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alwaysonthemend · 2 days

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Author’s Note: Hello my friends. I’ve been having the worst writer's block of my life and I am so so sorry that it’s been so long. This fic has been in my drafts for forever so I decided to finish it up since my brain is all out of new ideas. That being said, I’ve always planned on this being a two-part story so I thought I would leave you all with part 1 for now while I try to get my shit together lol. As always, I hope you enjoy. And if you see any typos… no you didn’t. Also don’t worry I promise that part 2 will have hella smut ;)

Content Warnings: Angst / talk of sex (non graphic - happened in the past) / sadness / feelings of not being good enough / low self esteem / unrequited love (for now) / miscommunication

Word Count: 8k

My Taglist: Here

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･

Maybe it's just the excitement of the last show. Maybe it’s nerves or just the tension and energy oozing from everyone as they all prepared for showtime. Maybe it's the fear. Maybe it's the joy of celebration, or maybe it’s the dread of things going wrong. And maybe, if you’re really honest with yourself, it’s the goodbye that stands menacingly on the horizon – like a sentry waiting to capture your heart in his iron first. Maybe it’s none of those things, or maybe it’s a combination of all of them. But it’s worse tonight – that need that you have for him. The one that seems like it’s become a constant storm cloud that hovers oppressively over your heart, no matter how hard you try to push it down. It’s still there – lingering and festering like a wound. You push the feeling away for what feels like the thousandth time. Tonight isn’t the night.

Show nights are hectic, especially a night as important as this one; Dreams in Gold is drawing towards its inevitable ending, and everyone wants these last few shows to finish on a high note – preferably with as few hiccups as possible. There’s only a handful more after tonight – with just a small break for the boys in between, before the last leg kicks off. And your job is simple: make sure the boys look good while doing what they do best.

Josh’s makeup is usually first, as he prefers to be ready to go a lot earlier than the rest of the band. A fact which, as he’s stated numerous times, is due in part to his nerves and anxiety before he takes the stage. His jumpsuits may be his armor, but his makeup is his war paint – equally as important (if not moreso) than his beautiful outfits. He’s jittery as he sits in his chair, leg bouncing and fingers drumming endlessly on his knee.

“Josh,” you mutter as you swipe some gold glitter across his eyelids, “you’ve got to stop moving.”

“Sorry.” He mumbles, voice soft as he tries to rest it for the night. “Just nervous.”

“I know.” You tell him, giving his knee an affectionate squeeze. “But you all are going to do great. You always do.” You pull out a tube of mascara and delicately swipe it through his lashes to complete his look. “What is it you always say? ‘Fuck fear’?”

Josh gives you an airy chuckle and a lopsided grin.

“Something like that.”

“Well, try and follow some of your own advice, Oh Wise One.”

He just rolls his eyes playful at you, but the tension eases from his shoulders a tiny bit. Small victories.

There’s comfortable silence for a while as you methodically glue a few rhinestones to his cheek bones.

“And when are you going to follow my advice?”

You quirk your brow at him quizzically, eyes staying focused on his rhinestones as you attempt to make them as symmetrical as possible.

“When are you going to say ‘fuck fear’?” He straightens his posture slightly as you pull away from him, brows pinching together. “The phrase seems…” he waves his hand vaguely towards you. “...particularly apt for your current situation.”

You turn your back to him to place the rhinestone case on the counter. You know exactly what he’s getting at but you’re in no mood to discuss such matters with him. He caught onto you a long time ago – his remarkable ability to pick up on subtle nuances and feelings from everyone around him becoming the bane of your existence for the past few months.

“Sooner or later, you’ll have to admit the truth to him. Once you admit it to yourself, of course.”

“I’m not admitting anything to anyone, Joshua.” You still haven’t turned back to look at him, instead busying yourself with pulling out the items you need for Sam next. “I wish you would just let this go. It’s just a stupid. It’ll go away.”

You both know that you’re lying.

“I highly doubt that, love.” Josh says sweetly, rising from his chair to come and stand next to you. He places his hand on your shoulder and the coldness of his fingers seeps into your skin at the contact – yet the warmth of the gesture isn’t lost on you.

“I know you.” He pauses, grinning a bit. “And trust me when I say I know him… given the whole twin thing, and all that. This isn’t just a passing feeling.”

“Maybe for me it isn’t.” You say, a slight bit of resentment bleeding out in your tone as you pull open a makeup drawer with more force than necessary. “But he’s just so…” You trail off, looking for the right word.

“Aloof?” Josh supplies knowingly, hand dropping from your shoulder to rest at his side.

You nod once at him, eyes dropping to stare at the bottles of foundation that line the counter in front of you.

“That’s his own fear getting in the way. You know how he is: him and emotions don’t get along too well. They haven’t since we were kids. He prefers to lock them all up and throw away the key instead of allowing himself to be vulnerable.”

“He doesn’t owe me anything – especially not vulnerability. We got drunk and fucked each other in a bar bathroom… hardly romantic or vulnerable to begin with.” You bite your lip, the unwanted and all-encompassing hurt from that night rearing its ugly head yet again. “And we both agreed that it was a mistake, and then we moved on. There isn’t anything else to it.”

“Sunflower,” Josh says, the nickname falling from his lips in almost a whisper, “you and I – and him for that matter, know that neither of you have moved on.”

You don’t say anything. You don’t know what there is to say. You want to believe him, you really do. You want to allow that shriveled up little seedling of hope in your chest to bloom. But you know better. You learned better.

“You don’t believe me.” It’s not a question. He knows you don’t.

“I wish I could. But he won’t give me anything to go on. One minute he’s there next to me and he’s flirting and being so sweet… and the next it’s like he’s a million miles away – barely even looking at me.” You sigh, and the weight of it all seems to press down on your shoulders as you slump forward, allowing yourself a moment of weakness with the kind man who stands in front of you. “I just wish he would talk to me. Why won’t he just talk to me?”

You hate the tears that burn behind your eyes and you hate the ache that opens up like a chasm in your chest. You wish you could hate him, too. Lord knows you’ve tried.

“Jake isn’t the best at words. But he’ll try. For you, I know he will.” He offers you a kind smile that soothes your aching heart a little bit. “Go to him. I promise he’ll talk if you’d just give him the opportunity to. He’s too afraid to approach you first.”

You glance at your watch.

“It’s getting close. I still need to do Sammy and Danny.”

Josh hears the unspoken dismissal and he inclines his head to you.

“Of course. I’ll leave you alone now. You know I’m only pestering you because I love you and want you to be happy.”

“I love you too, Josh.” You giggle. “Why couldn’t I have just fallen for you instead of your brother? You’re so much easier to talk to.” You lament, giving him a self-deprecating smile.

Josh’s eyes glitter with amusement and he grins at you, the apples of his cheeks growing pink with laughter.

“Oh I wish, sweet Sunflower.” He bows his head, allowing the curls on his forehead to fall slightly. “But alas, my heart belongs to another, anyway. A losing battle it would have been.” He pitches his tone upwards, summoning his most theatrical voice. “My heart burns with undying love for someone else.” He says, raising his arms with an obnoxiously over-the-top flourish.“My soul has been intertwined with another. The call of the universe summoned us tog-”

“Okay, yeah I’m sure.” You interrupt him, shaking your head in laughter at his dramatics. “Give your undying love a kiss for me, would you? In case I leave before you all?”

“Trying to steal him from me?” Josh asks, placing a hand dramatically over his heart, eyes widening in mock surprise for a moment before smiling at you warmly.“Of course I will. But you better not leave before saying goodbye. And that’s an order.”

You give him a salute.

“Yes sir, your majesty.”

And with that, he’s gone – curly head disappearing out the corridor and leaving you with a head swimming with too many thoughts to process.

Your relationship with Jake has been special from the start. From the first moment that you’d met him, you’d been drawn to him – like a moth to a flame. He made you feel alive and excited and terrified all at once. Trading flirtations with him became second nature – you poking fun at his pension for dressing in all black (pointedly referring to him as emo despite how much he denies it), and he always made sure to laugh whenever your naturally clumsy nature caused you to trip or drop something. But there’s never any malice in your little exchanges – your words instead dripping with thinly veiled joy (and perhaps a bit of nerves) as the two of you interact with each other.

Even your nickname comes from Jake. That first day that you had met him, you’d been wearing a dress with sunflowers on it. He’d complemented it – telling you the flowers brought out the color of your eyes. And so maybe you’d worn a pair of sunflower earrings the next time you saw him (though you’d never admit to him that you did it on purpose), and Jake had been quick to point them out before jokingly referring to you as Sunflower. And the name had stuck – a fact which you were infinitely glad of.

Your flirting with Jake continued to escalate as the two of you got to know each other better and it didn’t take long for your crush on him to develop into something more. Jake had carved a space for himself within your heart and no one else could fill it like he could. And before long, those flirty conversations between the two of you snowballed into a drunken, passionate-filled night in a bar bathroom – fueled on by lowered inhibitions and post-show adrenaline. It was fast and hard, but you’d enjoyed yourself thoroughly and hope had unfurled itself in your chest like a flower in the sun. Though it quickly withered and died once the afterglow had died off and Jake had told you plainly that it was an alcohol-fueled mistake.

He’d said sorry, and he looked like he really was. And you’d assured him that there were no hard feelings and that yes, it had in fact been a mistake. Though it was a mistake for different reasons than what he had thought. For him – at least you assumed, the mistake lies in that he allowed himself to become carried away, drunk and tense from a show. For you, though, the mistake is that you fell for him… and in the fact that you now knew what it was like to have him – only for him to be promptly ripped away from you again. Which only made his absence all the worse.

And although you’d both promised to act like it never happened, things changed. He grew distant. Never cold, but the familiarity and ease that had once existed between the two of you had been shattered beyond repair. No more flirty conversations or silly exchanges between the two of you. Instead, awkwardness has taken up residence. Every now and then, that old joviality would slip back into your interactions with him but he quickly catches himself and reels it back in. It’s confusing and hurtful, and you often lose sleep over his constant swinging back and forth. Regret lays heavy in your mind when you think back to that night at the bar, wishing that you’d put a stop to things before it got so far.

You’re snapped from your melodramatic thoughts by Sam boisterously crashing into the room, a goofy smile plastered over his face.

“I’m ready to be bedazzled!” He exclaimed, planting his lanky form into the chair and you couldn’t help the smile that overtook you, and the sadness of the moment prior is shoved from your mind as you fall into easy conversation with him.

Danny follows soon after Sam, and in the bustle of getting everything ready, you almost forget about everything. Though the thoughts still remain, brewing in the back of your mind like a thunderstorm just waiting to be unleashed.

The show is spectacular, as is to be expected from your boys. As nervous as they might be beforehand, they never fail to deliver a jaw-dropping performance. You’d watched from the sides, soaking up the energy of the last show and doing your best to not think about the months that you were about to spend without getting to see them at all. Though you all live in Nashville, there’s no reason for you to see any of them outside of work. And even though they’re technically your bosses, they have all quickly wormed their way into your heart, earning themselves the title of ‘friend’ above all else.

The night is turning out to be magical and you’re struck with a sudden surge of courage as you stand there watching them perform– or more specifically, watching him perform.

He’s truly in his element up there on stage, shredding on his guitar like there’s no tomorrow. You always enjoy getting to see this side of Jake, given how reserved he tends to be in his normal day-to-day life. In the time that you’ve known him, you’ve discovered that Jake is stoic and reserved around those he doesn’t know – content to sit in the corner and watch; but when he’s around people that he knows and trusts, his humor and kindness shine brighter than anyone else’s you’d ever met. You’d seen before how the fans often referred to Josh and Jake as the sun and moon, affectionately pointing out their subtle differences in personality despite being twins. But you had learned that Jake is by no means any less affectionate and joyful as Josh is, he’s just content to be a little quieter about it – making those times that he is loud all the more special.

Once the show was over, the boys and some of the other crew were planning on going out to celebrate – apparently having booked a private room at a restaurant downtown in which everyone could make a little merry before officially saying goodbye. You hadn’t wanted to go, but Josh and Danny had given you their best puppy dog eyes, and you’d begrudgingly agreed to accompany them.

Which is how you find yourself sitting at a table in the corner, brooding over your earlier conversation with Josh. With the tour being on break for now, you won’t be seeing any of them until it starts up again. And although you’re confident that Josh, Sam, and Danny will probably stay in contact with you here and there, (and maybe ask to get lunch every now and again) you know for a fact that the same can’t be said for Jake. If the past few months were anything to go by, you know that it’s going to be radio silence as soon as tonight is over. You watch him out of the corner of your eye as he goes around the room, making conversation with seemingly everyone but you. It hurts, and maybe it’s the liquor that’s coursing through your veins or the months of hurt finally spilling over, but you decide that enough is enough. You’re tired of living on what ifs and maybes. You hear Josh’s voice in your head, clear as a bell: Fuck fear.

With that thought in mind, you down the rest of your drink and stand up, determined to finally speak with Jake about what’s going on between the two of you. He’s across the room, talking with Danny’s drum kit tech. Jake looks effortlessly gorgeous, just as he always does.

As you begin your trek across the room the nerves and adrenaline kick in. You wipe your sweaty palms on your pants and roll your shoulders back.

He’s right there. All you have to do is ask him if you can speak with him for a moment. You know he’ll agree to – despite everything, Jake is still one of the kindest people you’ve ever met. He’d never intentionally upset you… or anyone for that matter.

Josh had told you that Jake feels the same. Josh knows Jake better than anyone… and you trust Josh. And you trust Jake not to intentionally hurt you. He’s just afraid – just like you are.

His back is to you. Easiest thing in the world to just… touch his arm to get his attention.

Just as you reach your hand out to touch his shoulder, a girl who you’ve never seen before slides up next to him, comfortably easing her arm around his waist. Jake throws his arm over her shoulders and draws her in close and you watch in detached horror as he turns his head to face her and presses a kiss to her cheek.

You draw back as if burned, spinning on your heel with the plan of getting the fuck out of here as fast as you can, hurt and embarrassment washing over you in waves – mingling with each other and making the perfect concoction for a panic attack.

Frantically, your eyes scan the crowd in search of Josh: your one comfort throughout all of this, but you don’t see him. God, where the fuck is he? Of all the times-

“Sunflower?”

It’s Jake’s voice, and you turn to see him, Danny’s tech, and the girl looking at you in concern.

“Are you alright?” Jake asks, dropping his arm from around the girl to turn around more fully.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” Your voice comes out breathless and a little frantic, doing a poor job of hiding your impending meltdown.

“Are you sure? You look a little-” Jake starts.

“I was actually just about to leave. Sorry.” You interrupt him, unwilling to spend a moment longer watching someone else have what you want so badly.

“Already?” Danny’s tech asks, and if you were in a better state of mind you’d probably feel guilty for not being able to remember his name. Instead, your mind is focused on the mounting panic rising in your chest, threatening to overtake you as you desperately try to keep your cool.

“I’m a little tired.” You supply vaguely, eyes scanning the crowd again in search of Josh. Still no sign of him.

“Well, I was hoping to introduce you to Lindsey.” Jake says, causing your eyes to cut back to him. He’s smiling, but you can’t decipher the odd look in his eyes.

“Hi.” She says, giving you a kind smile. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

She extends her hand for you to shake and your eyes briefly snap to Jake’s. He looks on edge, like he’s waiting for something. Your approval? You’re not sure.

You shake the girl’s hand.

“Hi. I’m Y/n.”

Lindsey smiles. She’s pretty. Very pretty. She’s not wearing a lot of makeup, just a little bit of mascara and some blush. Her clothes aren’t overly flashy and her eyes seem soft and kind. She’s exactly the type of girl you can imagine Jake going for and the thought makes you want to throw up. But instead, like the adult you are, you plaster a smile on your face to match hers.

“Jake’s told me a little bit about you. He says you’re a great makeup artist.” You know she’s saying that to be nice and to find some ground where you’re comfortable – obviously sensing that you’re on edge and trying to help in any way she can. But you just can’t do this. Not tonight. Not now.

“I’m alright, I guess.” You shrug, and you can feel how forced your smile is but you persist. “It’s really nice to meet you but I really need to get going. Jake?” You turn to him, doing your best to ignore the tears that are beginning to brim in your eyes. “Have you seen Josh? I told him I wouldn’t leave without telling him and his partner goodbye.”

He shakes his head no, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that can only be described as defensive and uncomfortable.

“Sorry, I haven’t. I’ll keep an eye out for him, though.”

“That’s alright. I’ll just shoot him a text later. Congrats on a successful night,” you say, nodding to the tech, Danny, and then to Jake before turning to Lindsey, “and it was really nice to meet you. I’m sorry I’ve gotta run.”

“That’s okay. I hope you have a good night.” She offers, eyes still watching you in concern. Somehow, her kindness makes this whole thing worse.

You turn away from the group and, as if in a dream, you make your way to the exit of the bar.

With no Josh in sight, you pull your phone from your pocket and call an Uber to take you back to the hotel where you’ll pack up your bags for the last time. This time tomorrow, you’ll be in your own bed away from all the madness. You wish the thought gave you more comfort.

//////

Three weeks pass agonizingly slowly. After being on tour for so long, the sudden change in tempo to your normally fast paced life leaves you floating through your days as if in a dream. Where once it seemed as though you barely had time to even sit down and think, now you have too much time to do exactly that. There’s only so many good shows that you missed and there’s only so many useless outings to be had before you find yourself going stir crazy. Distraction-less, your thoughts swirl hopelessly around Jake and your bitter, self-hating disappointment.

You think fondly about the first time you met. You think of your flirting and of the soft moments the two of you shared before it all went to hell. You even think of that damn bar bathroom; you think of the passion and the hope that had bloomed in you that night, and of the crushing disappointment and hurt that soon followed. And inevitably, your thoughts always seem to circle back to that last night, when you finally mustered up the courage to say something, only for the universe to seemingly throw it back in your face with a laugh and a middle finger. And the very worst part of it all had been Lindsey’s obvious kindness and concern towards you, despite having only just met. You hate that you can understand why he chose her.

Those thoughts feel particularly loud tonight as you stare down at an invitation to a group dinner from Josh. He, along with Sam and Danny, had texted you here and there – little things about what was going on in their lives since you last had seen them. But this was the first time that you had been asked to go out with them.

You’re torn. Torn between the desire to see all of your friends again and wanting to avoid having to see Jake (and even worse, Lindsey) if you didn’t absolutely have to. But, deciding to put your big girl pants on, you accepted, texting Josh a simple Sure :)

He responded almost immediately, eagerly letting you know how excited he was to see you.

And here you find yourself, nervously adjusting your top for the millionth time that night as you drive to the bar that Josh had told you about. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but to think about Jake as you had gotten dressed. You feel silly for still allowing yourself to be so hung up on him. You shake your head at yourself, almost in the hopes that the thoughts will slip from your mind at the action. Despite everything, you’re determined to have a good time tonight.

You’ve never been to this bar before, nestled away just a few blocks from Broadway on the East side of Nashville. It’s a nice place, but not so fancy that it comes across as too uptight or uncomfortable. Walking through the doors, you see that there’s a bar off to the right, with a few larger tables scattered across the floor to your left, and some pool tables and a dart board tucked away in the back. It seems laid back and comfortable – just the kind of place the boys like to frequent. Sam and Danny are already at a table, excitedly beckoning you over.

“Sunflower!” Danny calls, standing from his seat and opening his arms wide.

You jog over to him, grinning from ear to ear as you allow him to engulf you in a hug.

“I missed you.” He tells you sweetly, squeezing you a little tighter.

“I missed you too, Dan. Especially your hugs.”

“Quit hogging her!” Sam interrupts, gripping your wrists in his long fingers and pulling you from Danny and into himself.

Giggling, you hug him too.

“And I missed you.” You pull away from him, casting your eyes between the two of them. “I missed all of you guys. Speaking of… where’s tweedle dee and tweedle dum?”

The three of you sit, Danny pulling your chair out for you like the gentleman that he is.

“Josh is running late, as usual.” Sam supplies with an eye roll, “And I think Jake and Lindsey should be here soon. He said they were on their way a while ago.”

It feels like someone just dumped a bucket of ice water on you but you keep your expression smooth. Of course he would be bringing Lindsey tonight… Why wouldn’t he?

Unfortunately for you, they do arrive soon, and seeing Jake again feels like a punch in the gut. He’s wearing a pair of dark jeans coupled with a white button up, and his signature necklace glitters against his chest. He looks stunning, and Lindsey’s beauty only stands out more in the beautiful sundress that she has on.

“There you two are!” Sammy says loudly, and Jake inclines his head.

“Ladies,” he nods at you and Sam, “and Danny, good to see you.”

Sam scowls as Jake and Danny share a laugh.

“Y/n! It’s good to see you again.” Lindsey says with a smile, taking a seat in the chair directly to your right. You push back the annoyance, reminding yourself that it’s not her fault that Jake doesn’t feel the same towards you.

The table descends into easy conversation, though you find yourself having a difficult time keeping up. You smile and nod at what you hope is the correct times, but your thoughts are a thousand miles away. All you can think about is that night in that damn bar bathroom, and how good it had felt in the moment. You think about that night more often than you’d ever care to admit, but the memory is soured anyway by what followed. You can still see Jake’s face, passive and expressionless, as he shattered your heart in two.

And of course, you think of the last show, when you’d allowed Josh to convince you that Jake felt the same. God, you’ll never forget seeing him lean over to kiss Lindsey’s cheek, her arm wrapped around his waist just like yours had been that night at the bar. You wish, suddenly, that you’d ordered alcohol instead of water.

“Right, Sunflower?”

The question snaps you from your racing thoughts and you look up to see everyone at the table looking at you. Your cheeks flush as you wrack your brains to try and recall what they’d been talking about but you come up empty. You open your mouth to spew some bullshit excuse when you hear the door to the restaurant bust open obnoxiously.

“The party has arrived!” Josh bellows, drawing the attention of just about everyone in the building, and – thankfully, the attention of everyone at your table. You slink down further in your seat, suddenly feeling like you’ve run a marathon.

Josh and his partner take a seat to your left, and their presence instantly soothes you in a way you can hardly explain.

“What the hell are you two always doing that makes you so late to everything?” Sam asks him, taking a sip of his drink and quirking his brow.

“You don’t want to know, brother mine.” Josh says with a lewd grin, causing the entire table to erupt in groans of disgust. You laugh softly and Josh’s partner gives you a wink.

Conversations pick up again amongst everyone, though you mostly only speak to Josh’s partner, the two of you scooting backwards in your chairs to speak around Josh – who’s leaning forward as he tells an animated story about something or other, hands flapping about wildly.

“Does he ever run out of things to say?” You stage whisper at his partner, who guffaws loudly and assures you that no, Josh does not, in fact, ever run out of things to say.

“You should see him when we go to the store!” He tells you, eyes twinkling with affection, “He talks to just about everyone in the fucking Publix. I have to drag him out – for my sake and for theirs.”

“What does he even talk to them about?” You ask through a laugh.

“I don’t know. He talks a lot but says very little, most of the time.”

At that, Josh leans back into his chair and turns his head back and forth between the two of you, eyes narrowed and a mocking frown on his face.

“Are you two talking about me?”

“Never!” You tell him seriously, giving your best poker face.

“Absolutely not. I love you just the way you are, babe.” His partner assures him, and you know that he’s not kidding in the slightest. They’re annoyingly perfect for each other.

Josh looks on in suspicion as you and his partner lock eyes, both fighting to hold back your laughter and Josh raises an eyebrow at the two of you. You just shrug your shoulders and smile, while his partner smiles into his drink – the both of you completely unable to meet Josh’s eyes for fear of breaking out into giggles.

“Sure. Whatever, Very convincing.” Josh mutters, shaking his head and fighting a smile of his own. “Anyways, tell us what you’ve been up to, Sunflower.”

You feel warmth overtake your cheeks as everyone’s eyes turn to you and you wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole as Jake’s gaze finally lands on you as well. For the life of you, you can’t get a read on him – a fact that hurts you beyond measure.

“Oh, not much, to be completely honest.” You tell them, shrugging your shoulders. “Not much to do around here when I’m not dealing with you guys’ craziness.”

“Nothing?” Danny asks in disbelief, “No family or friends you’ve been hanging out with?”

“You guys are the only friends I have here in Nash.” You glance down at your lap. “Just been me, myself, and I.”

Josh, in typical Josh fashion, changes the subject upon noticing your discomfort – and you promptly excuse yourself to the ladies’ room. Rising from your seat, you scamper quickly away from the table.

You splash cold water on your face and smooth down a few fly-away hairs. Gazing in the mirror, you smile at yourself. Even you can see that it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

You jump as the door to the bathroom opens, eyes widening as you see Lindsey entering. You fight back a frown. She’s the last person you want to see.

“Hey.” She says simply, coming to stand beside you in front of the mirror,

“Hi.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You tell her, and wince at the harshness of your tone. “Thank you for asking though.” You add, softer this time.

“You and I both know that’s not true.” She says kindly, giving you a soft smile in the mirror. “I know we don’t really know each other, but… I’m here, if there’s something you want to talk about. I’m good at listening.”

You sigh, heart warming just a little at her obvious kindness and sincerity. You don’t know whether it’s better or worse that she’s a good person – it would be easier to dislike her if she wasn’t. But it’s also easier to accept Jake choosing her over you knowing that she’s a genuine person. Deciding to go out on a limb, you choose your next words carefully – keeping them truthful, but vague.

“Just guy trouble. It’s stupid, really. I don’t know why I’m letting it affect me like this.”

“A breakup?”

“Not necessarily…” You scratch the back of your neck, nerves beginning to show themselves again. “We, um- we slept together. Once. And I really liked him. But he said it was a mistake and we haven’t really spoken since.”

“Did you,” she speaks slowly – delicately, even. “Did you know him well? Before?”

“Yeah. He was always so sweet. Flirty, but not obnoxiously so. I really thought something was there. Something… real.”

“Mmm.” She hummed, looking in the mirror to smooth her own hair down. “And you haven’t spoken to him since?”

“Not in a way that matters. Not about what happened.”

“Maybe you should try.” She says, tilting her head at you. “You never know unless you try.”

You duck your head, fighting the tears that begin to burn behind your eyes.

“He’s with someone else now. And they seem to be happy. I don’t want to cause trouble where it’s not necessary. I just need to…” you trail off for a moment, staring at your reflection hopelessly. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

“You love him, then?”

Her question makes you freeze for a moment. Do you love him? You hadn’t really wanted to put a direct name to how you feel about Jake. But standing here, crying over him to the girl he chose over you, you figure you’ve hit rock bottom already anyway.

“Yeah, I do.” Your admission comes out quiet – broken in such a way that you almost don’t even recognize it.

“I’m sorry.” She says, her gaze dropping down onto the counter, staring at the little puddles of water. “I wish I could say something to help, but I know there’s nothing to say. It just fucking sucks, feeling like that.”

You nod, sniffling a little and wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

“And you know what the worst part of it all is?”

She just shakes her head, allowing you to continue.

“The girl he’s with now… I get it. I totally get why he chose her.” You let out a watery laugh and you see Lindsey’s eyes fill with her own tears as she watches you fall apart. “I would have chosen her, too.”

You blink and suddenly you’re being hugged. You’re stunned for just a moment before you hesitantly wrap your arms around her loosely.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” She says, pulling away from you and placing her hands on your shoulders, willing you to meet her gaze. “You’ll find the one. I know you will.”

“Thank you.” You sniffle again and laugh quietly, “God, this is so embarrassing.”

“Don’t be embarrassed.” She says kindly, dropping her hands and smiling. “Sometimes you just need another girl to listen. I love the guys – and they’re more sensitive and understanding than most, but they don’t get stuff like this like we do.”

You nod at her, taking a deep breath to gather yourself.

“Ready to go back out?”

“Yeah.” You say, and you follow behind her as the two of you make your way back out to the table.

The rest of the night passes by in a blur. After your return from the bathroom, you don’t allow your thoughts to prevent you from enjoying time with your friends. They really are all you have and you’ve missed them terribly. You catch eyes with Lindsey every now and again, and she always gives you an encouraging smile as she watches you engage, and little sparks of affection and thankfulness for her warm your chest. It really isn’t her fault.

After you’ve all eaten, and the alcohol begins to take more affect, Sam suddenly rises from his seat and slams his palms against the table (effectively causing all the plates to rattle obnoxiously)

“Daniel!” He says, pointing a finger at poor Danny who looks back at him with wide eyes. “I challenge you to a game of pool right this instant. I’m tired of sitting.”

Danny rolls his eyes playfully and stands, rubbing his palms on his jeans.

“Don’t start something you know you can’t win.” Danny tells him with a grin.

“40 bucks says I beat you.”

The rest of you watch on in amusement as the two bicker all the way over to the pool tables.

“Jake?” Josh asks, turning to his twin, “Wanna play?”

“Fuck ya.” Jake responds, also rising from his place. “Ready to beat your ass.”

“In your dreams, Jakey.”

“Don’t call me that.” Jake says petulantly, brushing past Josh with a deliberate nudge against his shoulder.

You, Josh’s partner, and Lindsey follow the boys over to the tables, laughing at their antics. Everyone is sporting a buzz now and you’re well on your way to getting your own little buzz. You figure you deserve it.

You watch on in amusement as the boys allow themselves to let loose – you love watching them like this. They’re like little kids, giggling and messing with each other as they play pool.

“I haven’t seen them all together like this.” Lindsey tells you from her seat next to you. “They’re like…”

“Children?” You supply, giggling softly. “They’re always like this. Even during a tour.”

The both of you laugh loudly as Josh sinks a ball, exclaiming loudly in triumph before Jake interrupts his celebration to let him know that he hit one of Jake’s into the pocket and not his own. Josh lets out a particularly petulant “Fuck!” and Jake tosses his head back and laughs.

You watch him, completely unable to pull your eyes away from him. He looks… transcendent like that, joy and laughter making his eyes crinkle at the corners in the way that always makes your heart melt. A pang shoots through your chest as memories of when he used to laugh with you like that enter your thoughts unbidden. You shake your head at yourself, tearing your gaze away from him to look at Lindsey – only to find her already looking at you.

You can’t quite read her expression – but there’s puzzlement in her eyes. You look away, unwilling to answer (or even acknowledge) her silent question.

Before long, the boys are far too drunk to be allowed out in public any longer, and Josh’s partner begins making the rounds to let them know that it’s time to go. He’s met with grumblings of disappointment but the boys don’t protest as you all begin to make your way outside.

“Well, Sunflower,” Danny says, smiling widely with flushed cheeks as he looks at you, “I guess we won’t see you again until tour starts again.” He extends his strong arms, waiting to give you a goodbye hug. You fall into him, letting your eyes fall closed as he squeezes you.

“You give the best hugs, Danny.”

“So you keep telling me.” He grins, pulling away as Josh’s partner ducks in to hug you as well.

“Me next!” Sam exclaims loudly, yanking you from his grip to pull you into his lanky arms.

“Bye, Sammy.” You giggle. “Till next time.”

You pull away to see Josh waiting patiently for his turn.

“See you soon, Sunflower.” He says, pulling you flush against him. Just as you go to pull away, he pulls you in tighter and leans in close.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers, just loud enough for you to hear. You blink away the tears that want to fall at his words.

Lastly, Jake stands, hands awkwardly in his pockets as he waits. You’re not sure what to do until he opens his arms for you. Hesitantly, you wrap your arms around his waist, breathing in his scent as it envelopes you.

He leans in close – so close that his lips are almost touching your ear.

“See you later, Sunflower.”

“Bye, Jake.” You say quietly.

He squeezes you tighter, letting the embrace last for just a moment too long.

Pulling away, you catch Lindsey’s eyes, and for the first time tonight, she doesn’t return the smile that you give her.

You trudge your way back to your car, suddenly wishing that you hadn’t gone tonight. And even more, you wish – desperately, that you didn’t have to see him again at all.

Climbing into your car, you allow yourself to put on your sad song playlist and wallow in your misery the entire way home, before collapsing heavily into your bed – the call of sleep pulling you under.

///////

Jake K 1:02 AM

I think we should talk

The text is the very last thing you want to wake up to – especially with the pounding in your head and the feeling of nausea that threatens to overtake you. You hadn’t had much to drink the night before but you have a feeling that it’s not the alcohol making you feel this way. You stare at it for a long while, thoughts racing through your fuzzy brain as you try and figure out how to respond.

You knew you shouldn’t have been honest with Lindsey – no matter how kind she is. Of course she would have caught on after seeing your inability to fix your face when you watch Jake and of course she would tell him what had happened in the bathroom.

And now he’s probably upset with you. Maybe he’s angry that you’ve kept your feelings from him and fucked him in a bar bathroom like it didn’t mean anything. Maybe he’s going to fire you. Maybe Lindsey wants him to fire you. Your mind races with every worst possible scenario as you shakily type out your response.

You 10:17 AM

Is everything okay?

The speed with which he answers tells you everything that you need to know.

Jake K 10:19 AM

Can you call?

You 10:19 AM

Yes. Whenever you get a chance.

Not a second later, his name lights up across your screen with an incoming call. Heart pounding, you can only stare at it. You haven’t had time to think. To plan out how you’re supposed to just act like everything is okay. With a heavy sigh, you accept that it’s too late for that and you swipe to accept the call.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Y/n.”

Your actual name… hardly a good sign but you will the nerves and fear from your voice the best you can.

“Is everything okay?”

A heavy, pregnant pause. Then finally,

“Lindsey and I talked last night. She um. She knows. About- About us.”

You close your eyes tight, heart hammering.

“Fuck.” The word escapes you with a sigh, tears already beginning to burn in the back of your throat. “I swear I didn’t tell her, Jake. I swear it. I just-”

“I know.” He interrupts. “She explained. I um.”

You can hear him swallow and you can picture what he must look like on the other end – eyebrows pinched, maybe playing with the chain of his necklace like he does when he’s nervous or stressed. You shake your head as if it’ll clear the image from your mind.

“Jake, I’m sorry.”

He sighs – heavy and defeated.

“Don’t apologize. I- I’m sorry that I hurt you like that. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t.”

Silence again, both of you just listening to the others breathing.

“I think it might be best if- if maybe you all find someone else for makeup.”

“No.” He starts, the word louder than any of the others that he’s spoken before. “You can't just walk away. You can't leave. ”

“But I think it would be best if I did.”

This time, you can practically hear him trying to come up with something to say in the silence. But you know there isn’t really much else to say.

“You’re our friend.” He finally says, voice just barely above a whisper.

That makes you pause as you think of the others – of Josh and his soft, reassuring smiles. Of his partner and the inside jokes the two of you share. Of Sammy and his ridiculous jokes and of Danny’s hugs. You think of all the other tech people – the ones who had taken you in and treated you like family from the very start. All the people that you’re willingly walking away from... and most of them will never even know why.

It kills you. The ache in your chest is a real, breathing thing as the reality of it all sets in.

“I’m sorry.”

“Y/n, don’t-”

You end the call.

End of Part I

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

@jakeyt

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@MyLeftSock

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@caprisunsister

@unabashedrookie

@broken0mens

@sacredtheslay

#dee's writing #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka angst #jake kiszka

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epicbuddieficrecs · 5 hours

Text

Weekly Recap | April 22nd-May 5th 2024

I'm back!!! You get two weeks worth of fic since I went on vacation last week! :)

Complete

up down jump around by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (7x06: There Goes The Groom, Karaoke | 1,6K | Teen): Buck appears out of nowhere, crashing into the seat next to him and landing half on top of him. “We should go,” he says. Eddie frowns. “Go where? I thought you wanted to party?” Buck rolls his eyes, exaggerated in a way that tells him Buck is not on his first beer. “No, I mean, we should go next,” he says, and makes a sweeping gesture in the direction of the karaoke setup.

hold your breath and feel the tension by chromatophorica/ @chromatophorica (9-1-1/Lone Star Crossover, Getting Together | 17K | Teen): Following the arson attack at TK and Carlos' apartment, some of the 126 decide to visit LA for a while to unwind, hanging out with the 118 crew. Buck absolutely is not having feelings about the friendship between Marjan and Eddie. No matter what TK might think he knows.

Eddie's Housewife by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Getting Together | 2K | General): Eddie buys Buck an apron and dish gloves. Accidentally makes Buck his housewife. Realizes he's in love with Buck. All in that order.

know all the ways to appreciate your design (I'm a damn good lover) by extasiswings/ @extasiswings (Bachelor Party, Buck/Tommy, PWP | 3K | Explicit): He’s a beautiful man, don’t you think? Have you ever wondered what it would be like? Even a little bit? You have, haven’t you? Or: the one where Tommy is here for a good time, not a long time; Buck really likes it when he runs his mouth; and Eddie...well, Eddie doesn't have a clue

just another deathbed confession by actualalligator/ @actualalligator (Near Death Experience | 2K | Teen): Buck ends up buried when the floor gives out underneath him on a call. He calls 9-1-1 and demands to speak to Maddie.

Both Bermuda and Golden (Lost but Doing Just Fine) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (PWP, Threesome, BuckTommyEddie | 39K | Explicit): In which everyone has two hands and two holes and is keeping their options fluid. (Or: a collection of threesome fics.)

5. You Knew We'd End Up Here (Daddy Kink): Eddie was raised to say 'thank you' when someone gifts him nice things like ringside seats and helicopter rides. Buck likes honorifics and being good. And Tommy likes when men who look like Buck and Eddie do as he tells them. (Or: three scenes in the evolution of Buck, Eddie, and Tommy's relationship, all united by one particular word.) 6. But Mr. Pilot I Don't Have Any Money: Buck might not have the money to spare, but he's sure he can find a way to pay Tommy for a helicopter lesson... In completely unrelated news, Eddie has a key to Buck's apartment and a habit of dropping by.

yeehaw [revisited] by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (BuckTommy, PWP | 2K | Explicit): “Do you have a trampstamp?” Buck asks, looking at where the sunlight hits his skin perfectly, highlighting the faint, small, black text - too small for Buck to see exactly what it says from here. Tommy merely huffs a laugh into the crook of his neck, eyes still likely closed as he places a deep, languid, lazy kiss to the base of Buck’s jawline. “Mhm,” he hums. “I was wondering when you’d notice that,” he adds with another exhale of amusement.

🔥 If You Said I Do I Would Too by giselleslash/ @gigi-gigi (Fake Marriage | 5K | General): Eddie starts telling people Buck’s his husband to get out of annoying flirting situations on calls. Buck starts to like it a little too much.

this could be the year for the real thing by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Coda, 7x06: There Goes The Groom | 1,7K | Teen): His face is still a smear of soot, and Chris giggles. “Buck. Your face.” Buck frowns in confusion and Eddie steps over to him, hand already reaching to wipe the soot off his face, just like he has a hundred times at work. Except Tommy’s already there, licking his thumb and rubbing firmly at Buck’s chin, a gesture so familiar to Eddie that watching it happen separate from him feels like getting punched in the throat. or, eddie thinks about his best friend at a hospital wedding

tell me all the things that i wanna hear by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (7x06: There Goes The Groom | 1,3K | Teen): Or: Eddie realizes something at the bachelor party, but he doesn't remember until later.

take a chance (lay all your love on me) by bptlmevyemtc (Not Actually Unrequited Love | 35K | General): “You’re in love with me?” Buck asks, like a laggy computer system that just finished booting up. “Er. Yes?” Eddie says. “I thought we established that.” Buck nods, once, glacially slow, and Eddie sees when the synapses of his brain snap into place. “... But I’m straight?” the one where it takes eddie a while to get over buck, and it takes buck even longer to figure out he doesn't want him to

🔥 the ravi fic by archerincombat (Ravi POV, S4 | 15K | Teen): “Hey,” Ravi says. “Scale of 1 to 10, how bad would it be if I assumed Eddie Diaz’s girlfriend was his wife in front of him?” Lee groans. “Did you do it in front of Buckley?” “Yeah?” “A hundred,” she replies, turning the other direction before Ravi can demand to know why. At three in the morning, it hits him. He bolts upright in his cot. Oh my god, he thinks. Buck and Eddie are divorced, and everyone forgot to tell me.

tried and true blue by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (There Was Only One Bed | 4K | Teen): or, sharing a bed with your best friend is fine, usually, except for when your best friend is the particular combination of tipsy and stoned at his sister’s wedding that transforms him into 200 pounds of cuddlebug

🔥 does he love you better than i can? by diazchristopher/ @captain-hen (Post-7x05: You Don't Know Me, BuckTommy, Tommy POV | 10K | Teen): Nothing has ever happened between us, Evan had insisted. You have absolutely nothing to worry about, Eddie had told him unequivocally. There’s no reason he shouldn’t take them both at their word, Tommy thinks, decisively. or, buck and eddie insist that there's nothing going on between them. tommy wants to believe them. he really, really does.

put my heart inside your palms by markofalover/ @markofalover (Getting Together | 3K | Teen): Buck’s speaking again, telling him, “Go dry your hair, baby.” And like, he’s stuck in his daydream. Completely crazy about it. So it’s not exactly his fault that he doesn’t register what Buck said until he’s in the bathroom again. He straightens his shoulders out and looks at his reflection like maybe he’s actually lost it, but, no, those were real words coming from Buck, who is also real, so— ...or, how an accidental pet name, a thoughtful dinner, and a shared shirt makes them get their shit together.

written all over your face by bucksclipboard/ @excuseme-greentea (BuckTommy | 2,5K | Teen): A completely smitten Buck decides he wants to keep Tommy all to himself for just a while longer. When an accidental goodbye kiss exposes their new relationship, the 118 wants to be respectful – but when has that ever worked? or: buck and tommy try to keep their relationship a secret and fail adorably

with a smile and some hope by iriswests/ @fcntasmas (Established Buddie | 6K | Mature): or; five times buck wakes up before eddie, and one time eddie wakes up before buck

🔥 as easy as defusing a bomb by iriswests/ @fcntasmas (Sexuality Crisis, S5 | 7K | Mature): or; buck moves in with eddie while taylor finds a new place, and prompts what feels like puberty 2.0 for eddie diaz.

Kiss Me Once Cause You Know I Had A Long Night by I_still_dont_understand_13 / @sherlockcrossing (Prompt collection | 31/? | 20K | Teen): 100 kiss prompts.

Chapter 30. 70. what if i told you none of it was accidental: An accidental kiss that confuses you both, but only a moment passes before you crash your lips back against each other's Chapter 31. 72. Accidentally bumping noses

waiting for this moment to be free by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (Getting Together | <1K | General): Eddie opens his eyes to the dim flickering light of the TV, turned down low but not quite muted on one of those Ninja Warrior things that Buck loves. He's tilted sideways, cheek pillowed against the outside of Buck's arm, and he's apparently been drooling a little, which would be more embarrassing if it were the first or even the twentieth time it's happened. Or: Eddie, and Buck, and another couch.

you'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling by heartbeatdiaz/ @loserdiaz (Established Buddie, Amnesia | 1,7K | Teen): Eddie is pretty sure the only person he's ever been genuinely attracted to, is Shannon. So, he is very confused when he wakes up in a hospital bed with temporary amnesia and the inability to look away from the pretty, hot guy in a firefighter uniform. And then, procedes to have the second gay panic of his life... because of the same person.

This Old Love Has Me Bound by allyasavedtheday/ @littlespoonevan (Post-7x04: Buck Bothered and Bewildered, BuckTommy, Pre-Buddie | 9K | Teen): In an attempt to better understand his newfound bisexuality, Buck tries to figure out if he ever missed any signs with guys before. The universe keeps interrupting every time he's about to think about Eddie.

all I want (your eyes on mine) by bigfootsmom/ @bigfootsmom (PWP, BuckTommyEddie | 10K | Explicit): Buck is lying there, Eddie instantly recognizes the head of honey blond curls resting on the arm of the couch. But the head of short brown curls between Buck’s shaking thighs takes a second longer to place. But then they look up, blue eyes going comically wide as they lock onto Eddie. Tommy Kinard is on Buck’s couch. He’s on Buck’s couch between Buck’s thighs with his lips wrapped around Buck’s cock. ~ The one where Eddie yearns, Buck pines, and Tommy just wants to have a good time.

of want and need by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (PWP | 2K | Explicit): Buck and Eddie fuck for the first time. That's it, that's the fic. (sequel to slowly getting sober from the taste of your skin)

WIP

🔥 change the prophecy by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Alternate Timeline, Curse/Magic | 7/11 | 17K | Mature): Buck has never felt secure in any of his relationships; he’s been searching for someone to see him the way he feels he’s meant to be seen, but after things start going downhill with Tommy, he thinks that person might just not exist. Eddie cannot figure out what’s wrong with him when it becomes clear things with Marisol aren’t going to work out. But what if they’re both forgetting something?

🔥 Any Other Way by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, S2 | 10/18 | 53K | Mature): In a switcheroo alternate universe, Buck spends young adulthood in the military, while Eddie, who has no idea Christopher exists, spends his twenties messing around, finally enjoying freedom away from his family’s expectations. When they both end up in Los Angeles, at the 118, some things are different, and others will be the same in any universe.

🔥 Steal My Sunshine by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Altered Memories | 4/9 | 15K | Mature): Memories hazy and unreliable, Eddie Diaz wakes up every morning in a house at the end of a cul de sac, goes to his office job at a petroleum engineering company, and comes home to his wife and son. But something is missing, and the more Eddie begins to put the pieces together, the stranger the predicament he finds himself in.

some things fall when they're meant to fall by sibylsleaves/ @sibylsleaves (Post S7E5 | 2/4 | 11K | Teen): or, Buck tells Eddie some news. Eddie has a realization and breaks up with his girlfriend. Not necessarily in that order.

🔥 stuck now so long, we just got the start wrong by Daffi_990_ao3/ @daffi-990 (Canon Divergent, Different First Meeting | 3/10 | 24K | Not Rated): Probational Firefighters Evan “Buck” Buckley and Eddie Diaz meet on a call which ends with them at odds with each other. As the months roll by, they keep running into each other on the job, much to Eddie’s dismay and Buck’s delight. Can they put aside their first opinions and misunderstandings and allow the seeds of friendship, and possibly something more, to take root?

🔥 Cowboy With a One Track Mind by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergence, Not A Firefighter Buck | 3/4 | 16K | Mature): Spin-off Sequel to Evan Buckley & the Coma-Verse of Madness - Chapter 7 (Land): Grieving and tortured, Evan Buckley has been living alone in Montana in a remote cabin for nearly a decade. After an incident that leaves him missing six months of his life, and suddenly in connection with a group of strangers from Los Angeles, Evan must decide whether to remain in his self-imposed exile, or take a chance at life again.

🔥 for all the haunts and homes of men by euadnes/ @kananjarus (Canon Divergent, Post-Apocalyptic, Station Eleven Crossover | WIP | 14/? | 126K | Mature | Warning: Violence): The year by the old calendar is 2025. Home is gone. Home is a failed rescue mission and an echo of a memory. Home is a lost boy living in a wooden house by the sea. But first, there was a promise. Christopher, when it's safe, I'll take you back to your father. Buck had all but given up on keeping it after the world had died and everyone in it. But just as some oaths refuse to be forgotten, so the same can be said about the endurance of love.

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briar / @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon S1-S6, S7 Spec | 126/? | 393K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

Podfics

🔥 Leave The Light On (I'll Be Coming Home) by Mad_Lori/ @madlori // fic by @hmslusitania (Post-S5, Missing Presumed Dead, Amnesia | 4.5-5h | Mature): An accident on a call leaves Buck with custody of Chris after Eddie is... missing presumed. While they navigate their new family circumstances -- and fight to stay together, despite Eddie's parents' best efforts -- a John Doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named Christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home.

[podfic] Chimney's Guide to Dating a Buckley by Howard Han by Matriaya (Getting Buddie Together | 3-3.5h | Not Rated): And how stupid is it that reading 10 chapters of a guide to dating a Buckley by his coworker is how Eddie finally got his shit together and asked Buck out for a date? But, Eddie’s happy and so is Buck, so Chim might have had a point.

[podfic] Karen's Guide to Dating and Marrying a Firefighter with a Kid by Matriaya for KatieWrites (Getting Buddie Together, Karen POV sorta? | 1-1.5h | Not Rated): OR Buck's in love with his best friend and doesn't know how to figure out if Eddie shares his feelings.

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

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aziraphales-library · 2 days

Note

hello! i was wondering if you have any more fallen aziraphale fics? thank you so much 💗

Hi! Here are some fics to add to our #fallen angel aziraphale tag...

Aziraphale falls from grace. by Pinkishrose (M)

After Aziraphale comes back from Heaven and reconnects with Crowley, leaving his Archangel days behind him, Heaven gets mad, and makes him fall. But Crowley is here to support him during this, torturous time.

Aziraphale Come Down by TheNapoleonOfCrime (T)

Crowley stared at the television with wide eyes, dropping the drink he held right on the floor and causing it to shatter. He watched the video that had been captured of the angel, his angel, Aziraphale, walk through the busy roads like nothing. Aziraphale, his friend who he always knew to be cautious, to be perfect, walking around as if he was drunk. And his wings, what had happened to them? What had they done to him? Without another thought, Crowley ran out of the bar he had been so comfortably situated in. “Angel-!”

"Angel" He Called Me by AislinRegin (M)

Crowley falls twice so Aziraphale never falls alone.

Well, that won't do as an ending (Let's try again, shall we?) by longdeadking (T)

"Aziraphale would never— Well, he simply wasn't— It just couldn't— Well. The point was, Aziraphale's feathers were… turning odd, these days." or: Aziraphale is having some growing pains as he gets used to his new role as Supreme Archangel. Crowley is being a pouty baby about being left on Earth. Everyone else seems to be doing just fine. or: fuck canon all my homies hate canon. they will be married if i have to officiate the wedding myself. (canon compliant, picks up a little bit after the end of the show)

requiem of a fallen angel by viperinz (T)

“Tomorrow, I might knock on your door again,” Aziraphale says, and it’s so quiet that Crowley has to strain to hear him. “I… I want you to read this before that happens. Should I not come, I want you to know why. A-and what I wanted to say tonight, you deserve to know it.” He schools his expression, bringing it back to his annoyed one he had on earlier. “I don’t want your apologies if you’re going to leave. S’useless, isn’t it?” he grits out, putting a hand on his hip. It’s only for a second, and Aziraphale looks back at him with a small smile. One that doesn’t reach his eyes, and one that is full of utter devastation. “You’ve always been the best of us, Crowley,” Aziraphale says quietly, and Crowley closes the door.

When Aziraphale falls from grace after stopping the Second Coming, it's a slow, painful process. Crowley picks up the pieces, and holds him together.

One Vision by goodoldfashioneddeliveryboy (M)

Something Big. Something Falling. Something falling that started Up, which Muriel had felt, and had descended Down, which Crowley was now feeling. This wasn’t sauntering vaguely downward, no, this was crashing and burning, a comet encased in the hottest of flames, exploding and coming back together in a warped wave of furious celestial intent. The surrounding BANG as it thudded from the mighty Above to the murky Below was felt by all supernatural entities, occult and ethereal. On a bustling street in Soho, the Bentley's alarm wailed. In a dusty bookshop on Whickber Street, the lights flickered. In a deep pit of hell, Aziraphale burned. -OR- Mr SuPrEmE ArChaNgEL falls Tremendously, the two ineffable idiots begin sorting their sh*t out, but the Second Coming appears to still be Coming much to everyone's utter annoyance.

- Mod D

#good omens #good omens s2 #ineffable husbands #fallen angel aziraphale #hurt/comfort #mod d

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bloodychazorite · 23 hours

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Q!SLIME HEADCANONS N’ SHORT STORIES!!

(These are all the headcanons I use in my current fic and will probably use for my future fics, in case you’re curious!! :))

So, first, I don’t think Charlie is any bit human at all. I think he’s full, pure-bred slime with a Core that gives him sentience. The Core is a heart shaped, made of enchanted ruby and plated in gold around the edges.

During the time he was a God in the SCU (Slimecicle Cinematic Universe) he had three (That’s an incredibly long story that I may actually write one day so this is all you get for now). Now, he’s been reincarnated with one, sentient ever since. However, he’s full slime, nothing human about him. Without the Core, he’d just be straight slime. He’s probably one of the—if not just the only—sentient Slimes there is.

His skin scars because when he’s hurt enough, he needs to get more slime to repair himself. The slime isn’t his, however, so it doesn’t match his body completely for a while while it blends together.

Another type of scarring that can happen to him would be dehydration cracks. If he loses enough water, his slime will crack in a lightning-strike type pattern. It takes a while for those to go away as well, just because they need time to fill in.

Yes, he has bones, but he doesn’t need them. He has them because they make it so that he can keep his shape. When he was Gegg, he’d keep some but give the rest to Quackity for safe keeping.

“Where’s my left arm?” Charlie asked, digging through the bag Quackity kept on him.

The other only shuffled his foot back and forth, mumbling gently. He bit his lip as he spoke. “I needed food, man.”

“So?”

“So all I had was seeds and currently unused bones.”

A beat of silence, before a slow, creaking head turn.

“You used my bones for bone meal.” His voice was flat and his lips were pinched. “Are you deadass?”

“Just kill another skeleton man! I needed food!”

Charlie threw up the melty stub where his left arm should’ve been, waving it back and forth and dripping goo all over the ground.

“Do you know how fucking hard it is to find intact skeletons that will fit perfectly with the one that I currently have?! And that have five fingers?!”

Quackity rolled his eyes, shrinking in on himself. “Uh...No..?”

Charlie smushed slime into his face and laughed at his dramatic screaming. “It is incredibly fucking hard!”

Charlie keeps bones on him most of the time, in case he breaks the ones he’s got. Sometimes they take a minute to get used to, some of them too big or too long or too small, but it happens nonetheless. It’s also the reason he takes any fall damage ever. Without the bones, he wouldn’t take any fall damage. Those bones also determine his general height. If he wanted to be taller, he could find/construct a taller skeleton and get more slime.

Slimes are naturally acidic at a certain level at all times. However, with prompting, his level of acidity will rise. Prompting can look like danger, or threats. It can also be emotional, with extreme rage or sadness, the works.

“Oh no, not today fucker!” Mariana screamed as Slime tried to step outside during another argument. His skin dripped from the agitation but Mariana couldn’t care less.

Slime attempted to brush past him, breath heavy. “I’ll be right back,” He mumbled, "I need to go.”

He stepped to the left, Mariana doing the same.

Then, to the right, where she followed once again.

“Move your ass, I need to go now.”

“Hell no, you will stay and we will talk this out.”

Slime shoved past her, briskly rushing for the door. Mariana, wings twitching in agitation, whipped around and grabbed his wrist.

He smelled the burning before he felt it.

Before the white, lava hot seer hit his senses.

She nearly cried out in pain, staggering backward and scraping her skin against the hardwood as she fell. Scrambling into the wall, she groaned in agony and grasped the wrist of the suffering palm.

“Fuck- oh, fuck!”

Slime was right in front of him, suddenly, knelt with fear in his eyes. “Fuck, I am so sorry, I can’t control it I swear, I would never do that shit on purpose—” He rambled as Mariana writhed, swearing in shock and pain.

Her vision swam as she sobbed.

“I swear, I-I can’t… control it.”

He’s burnt a few holes in the floors before.

All in his slime, there are acid glands everywhere.

Because he’s got acid literally built into his system, the bones he’s got tend to break down after a while. Depending on how emotional or just how much he purposely activates his acid secretion, they could last from anywhere around two weeks to a month, usually. That’s what the skeleton in his basement is for, an extra set of bones.

Slime’s are the closest things to aquatic creatures without actually being aquatic. Being naturally drawn and attracted to moist environments, he can’t breathe underwater, but he doesn’t actually need to breathe so I guess it doesn’t matter. When swimming, he creates fins to help. The only reason he drowns is because he takes in too much water and becomes so liquidy that he just… dies, I dunno LMAOO

Being generally docile creatures, living either underground or in swamps, most Slimes have shit eyesight. They mostly rely on vibrations in the ground and auditory sensory input. Great hearing, terrible sight. Slimes are also ambush predators! They’re slow, but they’ll eat anything. If looking for meat, they’ll hide under the soil and wait for the vibrations of something with four legs.

“And where’s Charlie? I wanted to talk to him.” Phil asked as he stepped outside. “He said he’d be here.”

Roier, Cellbit, and himself had all been in Mariana’s house for a while now—Phil being there under the assumption that Charlie would be there.

Mariana shrugged and glanced around. “Ehh, somewhere.”

Then Juanaflippa sprinted forward and stopped on the open ground, jumping up and down. Her tiny feet pattered the ground as she skipped in circles around the open area. Bobby tilted his head in response before Richas yanked him towards the

Phil looked to Mariana for a look of mild amusement to say it was normal, or a look of confusion to make him feel like he wasn’t going insane because—even for Flippa—this wasn’t exactly typical from his perspective.

To Phil’s surprise, however, he stepped a bit forward and began to rhythmically tap his heel against the soil.

“Fuck-!” His heart found itself in his feet as something squeezed tight around his ankle, holding firm as he jumped away. He grabbed for a weapon as a light green hand pulled further from the ground.

A wrist, an arm, a… a goo monster.

A goo monster holding a suspiciously familiar pair of glasses.

“...Charlie?!”

His body tied itself back together, becoming more and more recognizable. They stared at each other for a minute.

“I swear I was aiming for Roier.”

Charlie, because of the core, has much better morphing and shape shifting abilities than normal Slimes. With enough observation he could literally be anyone. He’d looked at Juanaflippa so much that his Gegg looked a bit like her. The people he spends a lot of time looking at are the people he can most easily imitate.

“So you can just look… however you want?” Fit asked

“Uh-huh.” Slime replied offhandedly, focusing on the little craft they were working on for Richas’s half birthday.

Neither of them had ever heard of a half birthday before then.

“Without effort? You don’t even have to like… try?”

Sue him, Fit was incredibly curious. Sentient Slimes just didn’t exist, Slime was the only one he knew and would probably ever know.

He became even more curious (and slightly defensive) as Slime began to stare at him, an expression of scrutiny behind his gaze.

Then, a familiar lopsided grin and covered his face for a minute. A sloppy squishing sound resounded from behind his hands that made Fit wince.

The taller gasped as Slime’s face became uncovered.

Fit’s own face stared back at him, with only a few uncanny details astray.

“Christ, Slime! You just keep that ability all to yourself? Do you know how much trouble you could cause with that?!” He all but yelled.

Slime laughed, shifting his face back to its normal appearance. He winked before turning his head back to the project.

“Who’s to say I haven’t caused any trouble?”

Fit—from that day on—lived in fear of the people the Slime could be.

Charlie is all types of temperature sensitive. It's crazy.

Too hot, he’ll get all melty and struggle to hold his form. Leave his bones behind him and become a puddle.

Too dry, he’ll dehydrate and crack up. It’s incredibly painful, which is why slimes tend to stick around damp, humid areas.

Too cold, he’ll freeze, becoming a literal Slimecicle. Just like hypothermia, his fingertips, toes, and nose will turn a shade of blue first, eventually infecting the rest of his body. Also hella painful.

A good tactic if you really wanted to torture a Slime, stick them in the cold. They wouldn’t be able to stretch or morph after a while, it'll hurt like hell, and you get to decide how bad it is. GOOD STUFF

A 60 to humid 70 degrees Fahrenheit is generally ideal. The island tends to run a bit higher than that, but it’s not too extreme of a shift so he’s generally okay with some extra water.

Haha, he picked Eggxile in a place that was out of his comfort zone, just cause he knew he didn’t deserve comfort. He sent himself to a place that was too hot and too dry for a Slime. That's fun.

Uhh, that’s really all I can think of for right now, but I’ll repost this anytime I add to it :DD If you’ve got any headcanons you wanna talk about or you wanna talk about mine, please do!! I’ll literally talk for hours, you have no idea

LOVE YOU BYEE <33

#qsmp #charlie slimecicle #qsmp slimecicle #writing #ficlet #quackity #qsmp quackity #philza #qsmp philza #el mariana #qsmp mariana #posting this cause the next chapter of my fic might take a minute I'M SORRY #if you have any questions feel free to ask #as i said i'll talk for hours #may have some mistakes #i'll fix them in the morning #i thought adding the little short stories in between could be fun #might just be stupid LMAOO

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jaytriesstrangerthings · 11 hours

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Not Sick Fic

744 words of Eddie not being sick and Steve not finding him endearing.

---

“I’m not sick,” Eddie argues, punctuating his argument with an aggressive sneeze followed by harsh hacking.

“Are you holding a loogie in your mouth right now?” Steve crosses his arms and tilts his head in what the Party has taken to calling his Mom Stance (trademark pending).

In a disgusting display of defiance, Eddie swallows. “No.”

There’s a glob of neon yellow snot dripping from Eddie’s left nostril that he drags his crusty sweatshirt sleeve across before snorting up another drip of snot coming from the right side this time.

“You are…” Steve sighs, exasperated, “so gross.”

The furrowed brows and grumpy pout paired with Eddie’s pink nose and puffy eyes could almost be considered cute if Steve hadn’t just witnessed him swallow a loogie.

“How the hell did I fall in love with you?”

Steve knows exactly how it happened. He could write a library’s worth of books about all the things he loves about Eddie Munson. That doesn’t change the fact that Eddie absolutely refuses to admit that he’s sick and is being very gross about proving his health.

“Because I’m so totally handsome and I can do cool guitar stuff.” His voice is scratchy and nasally and Steve can tell he’s trying very hard not to sniffle or cough. “And I’m super rich on account of the cool guitar stuff.” Eddie bats his thick black eyelashes and flashes a big bright toothy smile in Steve’s direction. It’s usually quite charming but the new bead of snot dripping towards Eddie’s upper lip causes his charisma to take a hit. “Gimme a smooch.”

Eddie sniffles harshly, sucking the snot glob back into his nose. He leans in, lips puckered up and chapped from extended forced mouth breathing, eyes squeezed shut. Steve reaches out a hand to stop Eddie from falling when he continues to lean forward.

“You’re cute,” Steve admits, pushing Eddie back to balance on his own feet, “You’re also sick.”

“‘m not,” Eddie pouts again, opening his eyes and glaring at Steve.

Yes he is. Eddie is very sick. His nose is running a marathon and Steve could hear the congestion from a mile away. He’s running a 102 degree fahrenheit fever and shivering like a chihuahua on a sugar high. His eyes are red and puffy and his eye bags have eye bags. He’s sneezing and coughing and if the way he frequently grimaces and groans is any indication he’s nauseous too.

It’s wild to Steve, how easily Eddie tends to ignore his own health and well-being. He’s going to work himself to an early grave and take Steve with him. It’s frankly astonishing how long Eddie’s made it and Steve is half convinced that Death is simply scared of Eddie. It wouldn’t be surprising. Eddie is absolutely horrifying when he wants to be. And also sometimes when he doesn’t mean to be.

“Just lay down in bed, Eds. You’ll get better sooner if you rest.”

“Don’t need rest, ‘m not sick.” Eddie makes a noise like he might throw up if either of them make a wrong move. He clears his throat when the feeling seemingly passes. “Gotta finish planning out the next session for when the Party comes to visit next week and then work on some acous- acousti- ACHOO!” Eddie sneezes and a snot rocket launches toward Steve in a majestic arch of green and yellow nasal mucus. Steve, luckily, manages to move out of the way and not be hit by the bio weapon.

“Did you just say “achoo” as you sneezed?”

“I didn’t sneeze,” Eddie says, like a lying liar who lies.

Steve looks from Eddie to the small puddle of snot on the floor. “What’s that then?”

Eddie scoffs a couple of times, searching for a reasonable answer. His brain isn’t working at full capacity, which is reasonable considering he’s very sick, despite his resolute denial. “Science project.”

Eddie lives and breathes gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss, Steve will give him that, but Steve has mastered manipulate, mansplain, malewife. Especially that malewife bit. If the government ever comes around to letting Eddie put a ring on it Steve would make a wonderful trophy wife.

“Yeah? What’s the hypothesis?” That’s right, Steve knows science words. He may be a certified Ken but he’s not stupid. Eddie, of course, is a Barbie, but that was never really a question.

“It’s about projectile paths and stuff.”

Steve cannot believe how endearing Eddie is even when he’s being this gross.

---

#steddie fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #steddie #sick fic #eddie doesn't get sick like ever #sometimes he does science experiment though

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twinsunstars · 2 days

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Follow the Stars - a Bad Batch epilogue fic

Hiiii! So I wrote this fast even though I need to do a lot of coursework, so I hope you enjoy this fic I whipped up (as a May the 4th treat) about what I think happened when Omega told her brothers she wants to join the Rebellion, me adding some little tiny things to the scene with Hunter and Omega at the end (though that scene was already so perfect), and some other touches I think you guys will love. I also felt like the others would be more okay with letting her go than Hunter, so I just wrote this quickly based on how I see things lol. Also, forgive me, I have no fashion sense.

Feel free to share with others, and i hope you enjoy! Let me know your thoughts, I'll be happy to hear them!

@magicandmundane you're going to enjoy this :D

read under cut here if you just want to read on here than AO3 (I appreciate all comments left anywhere :)

The sun was warm on Pabu. Another wonderful day for a stroll or a boat ride out on the waters. The island barely changed over time, staying safely away from the Empire’s hands and its residents living in harmony as the days went on.

Omega stretched her arms out. She looked in the mirror, expecting her morning hair out of the shower to be the usual frizzy blond locks needing a heavy brush, but it was actually somewhat neater for once. Omega gave herself a confident smile, tying up her layers into a ponytail and reaching for her red bandana. Hunter had given his old bandana to her as a gift after they had escaped Mount Tantiss all those years ago, and Omega felt like trying out some new hairstyles.

The battle at Mount Tantiss was so many years ago, and Omega still remembered every bit of the struggles she went through. They had won the battle, and everyone was safe and free to put aside their lives as soldiers, filling those days with warm sunshine, ice cones, and family time. Eva, Jax, Sami, and Baryn had been safely returned to their families after Rex managed to locate them. Omega missed them every day, praying for their safety as young Force-sensitives.

The Batch had settled themselves into a small home in the middle of the island Shep had offered them to take after it had been vacant for so long. Wrecker had taken the responsibility of decorating, and Echo had many debates with him about positioning certain objects so the home was kept neat and tidy. Omega’s room was the only place Wrecker wanted to do completely by himself, just as he had done when they had the Marauder. Wrecker had put up some orange string lights similar to the ones he had put up before, and he was lucky to find them in stock at a nearby shop run by a local. There were also some light curtains and soft bedding that Wrecker had put his heart into finding and setting up delicately so that his little sister would be comfortable.

Omega had recently returned to Pabu a few days back after a small scavenging mission with Phee, retrieving a golden heirloom that was adorned with feathers and crystals from the depths of a cave Phee had described as “spiritual and archaic”. They had found the heirloom near a mystic waterfall that Phee said was rumored to grant wishes and protect those who come by if an individual sprinkled some of its water over themselves. Intrigued, Omega had done it herself, relishing the pure scent of the beautiful waterfall. The heirloom was safely delivered to a family whose ancestors had created the heirloom to bring peace and divinity to their village.

Omega adored all the adventures she would have with Phee whenever she came by and still listened closely to her stories like she was still fourteen and mesmerized by the way Phee would narrate all of those adventures she had before meeting Omega. Often, her brothers would tag along mostly because Omega wanted them to go with and she wanted Crosshair to have his first treasure-hunting adventure. Even Lyana got her chance to attend her aunt on one of those adventures once she got a bit older and Shep allowed Lyana to experience worlds outside of her home. Lately, the squad who always called themselves the Bad Batch preferred staying close to home and staying safe rather than risking themselves in places they barely knew things about.

The Empire was heard to be growing stronger each day, though there were many rebels out there who did everything they could to slow down their work and fight to bring their tyrannical reign down. Echo was one of those rebels, continuing to fight with Rex and the other clones who had survived the rescue from Tantiss, all willing to keep up the rebellion they had started. Omega heard a lot of stories about the Rebellion from Echo, and she would sometimes hear things from Phee whenever she witnessed rebel activity anywhere she went. Omega had left fighting and being a soldier behind after Tantiss to allow her life to have a childhood and live peacefully with her family, but something about the Rebellion’s cause and determination pulled her heart closer to the fight that called her name in her dreams.

“Omega, you ready yet? The ship’s landing soon!”

Omega heard Wrecker’s call, adjusting her jacket and taking a quick look at the red and black skull patch she had added onto her jacket; the symbol of her squad. Echo was coming to visit today, and he was bringing Emerie along. Phee had also said she was coming back to Pabu today after visiting an old friend, and it was perfect timing. Omega had planned a dinner with all of her family, and it was her chance to reveal what she had been wanting to tell her family for so long.

“Coming!” Omega hurried out of her room, smiling wide at her younger brothers who were waiting in the family room. Her brothers gave her a bright smile, their wrinkles starting to become more and more visible.

With their accelerated aging, Omega’s brothers were growing day by day, the gray streaks visible in Hunter’s hair and beard. His soft hair had grown a bit longer, which he had tied some into a small ponytail while leaving the rest down. Crosshair started to grow a beard that matched the gray hair he was already born with, allowing his hair to grow around his burn scar, and there were more wrinkles near his eyes. Echo had given Crosshair the robotic hand he had obtained during the battle at Tantiss, keeping his scomp link arm, which was still really beneficial. Wrecker had grown a full beard that was growing more gray to balance out the dark brown, and he had grown a liking to it. They all didn’t quite have much of a strong soldier’s figure anymore, but they were still able to show their strength.

The three of them were dressed in casual clothes native to Pabu, as Hunter wore a blue and red sweater with a brown bandana that Omega made for him with a blue cardigan and brown pants. Crosshair wore a dark gray knitted sweater with black pants, and Wrecker wore a red shirt with dark orange baggy pants. All comfortable out of the armor they had long placed in the treasure hall on Pabu to cherish the memories.

“Come on, let’s go meet Echo,” Hunter said. Omega nodded, following her brothers outside to head to the landing zone.

Pabu’s local market was cheery as always with everyone heading in to grab a savory snack or an ice cone as a treat at this time of day. Mox, Stak, and Deke were helping out the citizens who were out fishing, catching a few themselves and making deliveries to the shops. They had grown to the standard height and appearance of a regular clone, styling their hair the way they liked it and relaxing in their comfortable clothes. The young triplets never got to experience the life of a soldier like they had dreamed since their birth, but they enjoyed the childhood the boys were able to create for themselves on the island.

Batcher pranced around the market on her morning stroll, saying hello to many locals and getting pets and scratches underneath her woven collar. The lady she had befriended during her first time on the island had grown older and sat in a chair near a stall selling handmade bracelets, as Batcher enjoyed spending time with her. Batcher was growing older in hound years, yet her playful nature kept her lively.

She noticed Omega walking by with her brothers, barking and running up to her family. Omega smiled at Batcher, walking alongside Hunter to the landing zone. Batcher settled herself near Crosshair, displaying her soft smile at the man she helped heal and take care of ever since she had run off Wayland.

The family was just in time as a large cargo ship headed its way towards the landing zone, slowly setting the engines low and touching the ground. The ship opened up its entrance, revealing Echo and Emerie. Echo visibly looked like an elder, heavy wrinkles forming on his face and his stubble beard growing in, likely not having enough time to shave lately. He was dressed in some new armor the clones had helped him put together and painted in a design of red, white, black, and blue–representing both his family in the 501st and the Bad Batch.

Omega hadn’t seen Emerie in a long while, and she was glad her sister could carve out some time to visit. Emerie hadn’t aged much in physical looks, but she had cut her brown locks into a shoulder length hairstyle, letting it fly freely. She had gotten rid of those rose-tinted glasses she was given when she worked at Tantiss, comfortable in a maroon shirt with a blue jean jacket and dark teal pants, dark brown heeled boots adding a small inch to her tall height. Emerie had a small thin necklace that was made out of silver and adorned with orange crystals; a gift from Senator Chuchi.

She walked alongside Echo off the ship’s ramp, smiling wide at her sister. Omega ran over to the two, embracing them in a group hug. Batcher barked and ran over, excited to see Echo again. “I’m so happy you’re safe,” Omega said to them.

Echo chuckled. “I’m still in one piece. The Empire can’t dull my strength.”

Echo continued to fight against the Empire with Rex and the other clones as the Rebellion continued to grow in numbers, and had helped many clones settle down and find their place in the galaxy. The clones may have been growing older, but the fire they had as soldiers kept them willing to fight for the right cause. Some had remained on Pabu, their choice being to live a peaceful life away from the fight and the torture. They had settled themselves down in homes, and two had gotten themselves married to locals on Pabu they had connected with.

“You’re still growing old,” Crosshair piped up with a grin. Echo got a look at his brothers, and they definitely did not look like the same young energetic clones he had gotten to meet after being rescued from Skako Minor. They all smiled at their older brother. Wrecker came in for a big hug, causing Echo to nearly suffocate. Emerie chuckled.

“It’s good to see you again, sister,” Emerie said, giving Omega a personal hug. Omega gave her a soft smile.

“You changed your hair again. I like it,” Omega said. Emerie returned the smile and brushed a hand on Omega’s cheek. Her sister had grown so beautiful and so strong.

Luckily, Phee’s ship had just touched down as well. Phee stepped out of her ship, which remained painted in the colors Tech had painted his armor in when she had first met him years ago. Phee honored his sacrifice that way, remembering the man she grew so affectionate of. Tech loved sharing so much with her; Phee just wished there was more time for her to share more of herself with him.

Phee headed over to the family, Omega giving her a hug. Gray streaks ran through Phee’s dark brown curls, adding more color to the gold she already had intertwined in her hair. Phee may have been growing older, but her beauty never faded away.

“You’re getting bigger every time I come back. You’re as tall as me now,” Phee said.

“She’s still our little girl,” Hunter added. Omega gave him a smile. She wasn’t all that little now, but she knew Hunter would always see her that way.

Phee let out a laugh. “Of course she is. Now, what’s this about a special dinner you’re going to set up?”

Omega gasped. “You are all going to love it. Lyana’s helping me set up right now and cook. It’s a gift from me to all of you.”

“We’ll help too!” Wrecker exclaimed, Batcher adding in a happy bark. Omega nodded, the family heading over to the upper levels of Pabu to help prepare the food and set the table together.

Omega walked with Emerie and Phee, happy that she would be getting a chance to spend quality time with the people she loved one more time before leaving.

“Have you told them yet?” Phee whispered to Omega.

Omega sighed. “No. But I plan to soon. At dinner.” Emerie, Phee, and Lyana were the only people she had told about what she planned to do. They were supportive of her choice, and now Omega just hoped her brothers would be as well. Especially Hunter.

“I have a feeling this will not go well.” Emerie continued to walk with her hands behind her back, a habit she had developed growing up. She had listened to Omega tell her about her wish a while back during a comm call together. Emerie was worried about her and didn’t know if she was ready to join a fight that big, but Omega was free to make her own choices. Emerie made her own choice to join Senator Chuchi and the others to fight against the Empire and share all she learned to know during her time there, and if Omega wanted to do the same, she would honor it.

Omega had a feeling it wasn’t going to go well either. But she had to give it a try. She lived the rest of her childhood on Pabu. It was time for her to set off on her own adventure.

***

As Pabu’s sun began to grow golden in color, the dinner table had been set. Lyana helped Omega set down a few salad and rice bowls, setting a plate of bread rolls in the center. The dinner table was surrounded by many delicacies popular on Pabu, commonly the fish and seaweed rolls most people loved.

Everyone settled themselves down at the dinner table, ready to eat. Echo had changed out of his armor, sticking to a gold sweater with some blue pants. Shep and Lyana joined in, and Batcher napped next to Crosshair, her belly full after asking for food samples while everyone was cooking.

“First, a moment to present a blessing,” Shep began. He reached his hand out to his daughter and Phee, who sat next to him. Everyone held their hands together.

“We thank everyone for this wonderful food, and for Omega to help put together a beautiful dinner. May her life be filled with safety and happiness, and may we all prosper for the future to come.”

Everyone nodded, beginning to eat. Omega stuffed a fish and seaweed roll into her mouth, chewing to try and avoid talking. She wanted to express her feelings to her brothers, but now that the opportunity has arrived, she was too nervous to open her mouth. Emerie noticed her nervousness, shooting her sister a look of comfort. Phee and Lyana silently ate, waiting for Omega to make her move.

Omega swallowed, looking at Emerie. Her eyes told Emerie that she was nervous and felt like she couldn’t do this. Emerie gave her a smile, believing in her. Everything would be okay.

“Omega, you’ve been quiet.” Crosshair broke the silence, making Omega’s shoulder’s jump. Crosshair had noticed his sister was acting uneasy ever since they were helping to cook, and he had a strong feeling she was hiding something. “Is there something wrong?”

Omega swallowed, setting her fork down. She took a strong inhale in, slowly nodding a yes.

Hunter, sitting next to Omega, placed a hand on her shoulder softly. “What is it, Omega? We’ll listen. We can help you.”

I hope you can. Omega exhaled, deciding to stand up. “I have an announcement to make.”

She looked at her entire family, observing their soft faces, waiting for their sister to speak. Omega hoped everything would be okay and they would understand, just like Lyana told her.

“I have decided to leave Pabu and join the Rebellion. I want to help fight them and end the Empire’s tyranny. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

The table was silent. Omega waited for a response before saying anything else. Her heart was racing, and she felt like she would start to cry at any moment. Phee, Lyana, and Emerie looked around the table, observing the Batch’s faces.

Echo was the first one to ignite a smile, and then Wrecker. “Kid, that’s great! You’ll bring the Empire down!” Wrecker exclaimed, proud of his sister.

Omega smiled wide. “So you’re okay with it? I can go and fight? I’ve already got in with Senator Organa and the coordinates from him, he’ll be so happy to hear-”

“No.”

The sharp tone diverted everyone’s eyes to Hunter. Omega blinked. “What?”

Hunter looked up at his young sister with strict eyes. “You’re not going to go fight in the Rebellion. You need to stay here.”

Omega wanted to cry. She had a feeling Hunter wasn’t going to accept this easily. “Hunter, please. I’ve lived my life away from the fight ever since we won. The Empire is growing stronger, and the Rebellion needs more people for their cause. I need to help them-”

“And what if the Empire captures you again?” Hunter stood up this time, ready to debate. “The Empire could hurt you again and keep you hidden. Take your blood, torture you until you can’t breathe.” Hunter wanted to cry. He couldn’t imagine Omega getting hurt out there with him nowhere near her to help her heal. “There’s so many deaths out there in the Rebellion, what if you can’t escape?”

“I can handle that!” Omega felt like screaming. ““Hunter, I’ve fought the Empire so many times when I was young. You all know how I managed to survive Tantiss mostly on my own. I’ve been trained my whole life for something like this. You all taught me how to fight and how to be a soldier, and this is my chance to use those skills to help the galaxy be safe.”

Hunter was about to add another rebuttal, but Echo took his spotlight. “Hunter, she’s right. Omega can’t just keep sitting around on the beach and relax. She wants to do more, and her chances are out there.”

Hunter looked sternly at Echo. “Echo, don’t encourage this.” He blinked. “Did you get the Rebellion into her head? Is this why she’s bringing it up and wants to leave?”

“And what if I did?” Echo snapped, making Batcher wake up. “Omega has always had that rebellious heart inside of her, and you know how strong she is. Hell, she’s even taught me a few tricks. She can do this.”

“Echo-”

“Echo’s right, Hunter,” Crosshair piped in. “As much as I don’t want her to go either, she’s had a lot of training, and we’ve protected her since we won that battle. You all have more than me. This is her chance to make a change in the galaxy. You know you won’t be able to stop her.”

“Crosshair, you know what they did to you. What if they try anything on Omega? I won’t allow anything to happen to a girl so young.”

“Hunter, I’m not a baby!” Omega exclaimed. “I’m as tall as Emerie, I know how to take care of myself. I’m not afraid of the Empire.”

Wrecker frowned, afraid to say a word to try and avoid Hunter yelling at him. But he never liked it when Omega and Hunter argued with each other. “Hunter,” he said softly. Hunter turned to him with an angry look, and Wrecker felt like shutting up. But he wanted to be supportive of Omega.

“Omega is a strong girl. We should give her a chance to live a life outside of Pabu. We had our life, it’s her turn. She wants to follow the stars.”

“Wrecker-”

“Hunter, breathe,” Shep advised. He didn’t want to say more, afraid that Hunter could get more angry. Wrecker breathed, thankful Shep stopped Hunter before he could yell at him.

“You’re not going anywhere. You’ll stay here, safe and sound.”

After saying that, Hunter looked at Omega. Her lips trembled, tears welling up in her eyes. Hunter’s anger went cold as he looked at his little girl who was about to cry.

“You had told me that I could be whatever I wanted. I’m choosing to become a Rebellion fighter, becoming a soldier just like you all were. Why won’t you support that?”

Before Hunter could say anything, Omega stormed off, tears streaming down her face. Hunter’s shoulder slumped. He knew he had just made a mistake. But how was he going to be able to fix it in a way that would make sure everything would be okay?

Lyana and Emerie went after Omega to make sure she was okay. The rest of the table remained silent, refusing to eat more. Batcher whined, worried about Omega. Crosshair gave her a pet and a glare at Hunter. The brothers stood up, leaving the table to head back into their home.

Phee stood up to leave to check on Omega. “You’ve got some thinking and making up to do, Hunter.”

Hunter exhaled. He sat down in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose and wanting to let some tears out. Shep stood up, walking over to Hunter and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Kids grow up fast. It was hard for me to let Lyana out of Pabu with Phee, but she’s old enough to go out and explore on her own. You helped Omega grow up and taught her everything she needs to know. You know she can do this.”

Hunter knows. He didn’t know what to do about it though. He didn’t want his little girl to leave.

***

Morning dawned with the small moonyos awake and squealing as they ran around the land. Batcher ran after them, while Crosshair tried to get her to stay with him on her daily morning walk.

Omega breathed in, looking out her window at the sky. She loved flying up there, and she would miss it.

She got her bag ready, placing it over her shoulder. Omega had a lot to do. She stepped out of her room, meeting Hunter standing in front of her. He held a plate filled with sliced fruit.

“How did you sleep?”

Omega tried to take the frown off her face, but she just couldn’t. She gave Hunter a small smile and a nod. “Good. I need to go meet Lyana in the treasure hall. I’ll be back.”

“How about some fruit? There’s some sliced meiloorun,” Hunter offered the plate, knowing it was one of her favorites.

Omega looked at the plate of fruit. She stepped forward, taking the entire plate off his hands for her way. “Thanks.” She quickly hurried out. Hunter wanted her to sit down and eat, but she had already left.

Hunter knew she was really upset, and he felt sorry for being really strict with her. Ever since they had picked her up off Kamino, she was always willing to help save and protect those who needed it most. She never stopped fighting for the clones who became subject to the Empire’s experiments, playing a vital role in bringing that to an end. Omega was his little fighter, and she wanted to fight more.

Hunter just didn’t know if he was ready to allow her to go and fight. He had to fix this.

***

Omega walked to the treasure hall with the fruit plate in hand and nibbled on a slice of meiloorun, taking in the scenery around her in the market. She loved the aromas swirling in the air, remembering the times she would buy a lot of the sweet sticky treats that were covered in maple syrup and served on a stick. She loved them so much, Crosshair had to stop her once so her teeth wouldn’t rot and her stomach wouldn’t hurt. Omega was happy her childhood could become full of things natural-born kids were happy to have: ice cones, sweet treats, games, and a good family.

Omega walked nearby the central tree on Pabu, looking up at its blooming leaves. She circled around the tree, kneeling down in front of it.

After Tantiss, the Batch had set up a small memorial for Tech. The memorial was made out of flowers Omega had chosen with her brothers and Phee, and a few of Tech’s favorite items that were salvaged (though burnt) from the Marauder’s explosion, all arranged in a circle. Omega often came by the memorial to talk to her brother.

“Hi, Tech. Today’s a big day. I’m going to go join the Rebellion and become one of their pilots. You taught me to fly, and now I can put what you taught me to use. I hope you’re doing okay. Phee always told me you’re flying up in the sky, watching over us every day. I hope you’ll be up in the sky with me.”

Omega placed a slice of fruit down and took out some flowers from her bag, setting them down on the memorial. She stood up, saluting her brother and giving him a smile. Omega knew Tech was always with her, and she was ready to take him with.

Omega reached the treasure hall, entering to meet with Phee, Emerie, and Lyana. “I brought fruit.”

They were ready to say goodbye before Omega headed on her way tonight. Last night, the three had consoled Omega, and Omega had decided that she was going to leave on her own terms. The three knew they couldn’t stop Omega if they tried; it was Omega’s new dream she wanted to chase.

Phee, Emerie, and Lyana gave Omega warm smiles. Lyana approached Omega and wrapped her in a hug. Letting go, she took out a small handmade bracelet from her pocket. “To remember me by. We’ll match too.” Lyana raised her hand, a bracelet on her wristing looking identical to the one she gave Omega.

Omega smiled, putting the bracelet on her left wrist. “It’s perfect.” She looked over at Phee and Emerie, who were standing near the most valuable treasures to Omega which remained in this hall. She approached the two treasures, stroking one of Lula’s ears. She stroked the ears of the tooka doll that was gifted to her by Wrecker when she was young, missing the times she had slept with Lula snuggled next to her. Tech’s goggles were settled next to Lula, now held gently in Omega’s hand. Omega chose to have his goggles remain in the treasure hall to keep it safe.

“You said you planned on taking them along. You sure you don’t want them to remain safe in here?” Emerie asked.

Omega turned around to Emerie. “Tech taught me to fly, and I’m going to become a pilot because of him. I want him to be with me all the time. And Lula would love to accompany me on the missions.”

“Brown Eyes would be so proud of you,” Phee said.

“He would let you go.” Omega heard Crosshair’s voice, just as he, Wrecker, and Echo walked into the room. Gonky was with them, honking noises happily.

Wrecker rubbed his arm. “We… we’re not ready to let you go either. But it’s your choice. And we’ll talk to Hunter.”

“We’ll make him understand. You deserve a life on your own, and the Rebellion would love to have you as a fighter,” Echo said.

Crosshair walked up to Omega. She had grown so much, and yet he tried to harm her when they first met, all because of that stupid Empire. He had left all that behind, staying loyal to his sister. “Give them hell, Omega. They’ll never see it coming.”

Omega smiled, unable to hold back tears. Except for Echo, her brothers were long retired from the fight, but they chose to be supportive of their sister’s choice to keep fighting, just like they had always done. She leaped into Crosshair’s open arms, hugging her little brother close. Wrecker joined in, letting Echo join the hug as well.

“Thank you.” Omega broke away from the hug, wiping tears away. “Let Hunter know how much I love him, and I will miss him.” Omega wished she could tell him in person. She wanted to try and reason with him, but she didn’t want to argue with him again like yesterday.

Her brothers smiled at her, proud of the girl they raised. Gonky honked, talking to Omega.

“You want to come with?” she asked Gonky. Gonky honked more. The droid had some fight left in them, and they wanted to be with Omega all the way, offering their help.

Omega smiled. “Of course you can come.”

“Try to comm us when you’re there, so we know you’re safe,” Crosshair said. Omega remembered how much he loved to check on her, making sure she was safe and protected in every corner. Omega nodded.

“Comm us anytime you can, we’ll be waiting to hear all about it,” Wrecker added.

“If you ever need me, I’ll be a call away,” said Echo.

“As will I. I always want to be connected with you,” Emerie smiled.

“You’ll be one of the strongest pilots of them all. Let me know if you find any ancient treasures, or if you want to hear any more stories,” Phee said.

“Promise to stay in touch?” Lyana asked.

Omega smiled warmly at her family. “I will. I promise.”

***

Hunter sat on a rock, listening to the waves while the breeze ran through his hair. He heard Batcher’s barks coming closer, smiling softly. She was always around whenever someone needed help or comfort.

Batcher sat down next to Hunter, rubbing her head next to his arm. Hunter petted her, looking out at the water. He remembered all the times he had spent with Omega here. Swimming in the water, playing catch with Batcher on the beach, going out for a morning walk together. All the beloved memories with his young sister. She was technically older than them, but to Hunter, she was always their kid. His kid.

“I’ve got to let her go, don’t I?”

Batcher looked up at Hunter, letting out a small whine.

“I know, it hurts me as much as it makes you sad. She’s growing up, and Omega’s right. We taught her how to fight. Now it’s time for her to become whatever she wants to be.”

Hunter sighed, looking over at Batcher. “Come on girl, let’s go give our young one a farewell.”

***

Pabu’s silent nights were beautiful as always, the lights glowing around the water. Omega could hear the birds’ chirps grow more distant as she packed in her room. Everyone was getting ready for bed, while Omega got ready to leave. She fixed up her hair and made sure she had everything packed in her bag, the rest of her items ready on her ship. Omega was going to miss her family and friends so much, but it was just like Tech said; Change was something that everyone needed to learn to accept.

Omega stopped by her brothers’ room, the door half-open. She slowly opened the door without trying to make a loud creak, wanting to say a silent goodbye as he slept.

Omega had decided to write a note for Hunter, telling him her choice and that she loves him. She knew her brothers would let him understand. While Hunter slept, Omega carefully left the note next to the lamp.

Omega breathed, ready to leave her home. She headed down to the caves and looked up once more at the glimmering island, the home she grew up in. Omega cherished all the memories made here, and she would carry them with her whenever she went.

Heading into the cave to reach her ship, Omega listened to the water dropping nearby. She reached the part of the cave where her ship was landed, kneeling down and turning on the lantern. Omega heard a bark, looking up to see Batcher and Hunter. Omega smiled.

Of course he would be here. He’s always near me whenever I need him. Omega stood up, heading over to her brother.

“Thought you could just sneak off? Time hasn't dulled all my senses.” Hunter had sensed Omega near him while she had put down the note. He had waited until she had fully left to sit up, reading the note. He knew he was going to try and go against her word, and his brothers already let her go. Batcher wanted to say goodbye too in person, so he had taken her along.

Omega laughed, sitting down next to Hunter. “This shouldn’t be a surprise. The Rebellion needs pilots now more than ever.”

Oh, Hunter knew. She had already left them once before for the sake of their protection. He knew Omega was willing to leave on her own terms to help protect others.

Omega sighed. She had to stand up to Hunter. “I made my choice, Hunter. I want to do more.”

Hunter swallowed. “And we want to keep you safe.”

Protecting Omega had become their life ever since they had took her off Kamino and saved her from the Empire’s hands. Omega knew how much he wanted to protect her. “You have. But I'm not a kid anymore. You don't have to worry about me.”

She had grown up, but Omega was always a kid in Hunter’s eyes. He could never get over how tall she got all of a sudden one day and how she couldn’t fit the clothes he had gotten for her anymore. Omega had gotten so big for Hunter way too fast, it felt like it was just last year that he held a small girl in his arms every night.

“You’re our kid, Omega. You always will be.”

Omega placed a hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Hunter, you've all fought enough. This? It's my fight. I'm ready.”

Omega let go of his shoulder, standing up to head to her ship. Hunter wanted to reach his hand out. He didn’t want her to go at all. He wanted her to keep staying by his side. He wanted the little girl who would bury herself into his arms to remain with him every night, letting him sing her a lullaby to sleep.

Hunter sighed. “Yeah, I know you are. But I'm not.”

Omega turned to Hunter with a comforting smile. She gave Hunter a tight hug, holding her younger brother close. She let go, already missing his warm touch. She told him to keep an eye on her other brothers and Batcher.

Hunter nodded. He placed a kiss on her forehead, giving her a smile. “Off you go.”

Omega smiled. She hurried off to her ship, Gonky waiting for her to come onboard. She knelt down to Batcher, giving her some pets.

“Omega.” She stepped onto her ship, stopping when she heard Hunter.

“If you ever need us, we'll be there.”

Omega nodded, heading into her ship. She set her bag next to Lula, who sat in a chair, ready for the adventure. Omega powered up her ship, adjusting Tech’s goggles in front of her. She had decided to place them in front of her so she knew Tech would always be alongside her whenever she flew. The ship was ready to go, and so was she. Her adventures in the stars were calling her name. She looked over at Hunter, who gave her a salute. Omega returned it, ready to go.

The coordinates to the rebel base were in, and Omega lifted off, rising up to the night sky. Hunter watched her go with a proud smile on his face.

Batcher whined next to him, already missing her best friend. Hunter gave her a pet. “It’s all right girl. She’ll be fine.” Hunter switched the lantern off, looking back as Omega’s ship rose up to space. Batcher watched before following Hunter to head back home.

Hunter felt like crying, watching his little kid go. He knew she was strong, and she would be okay. She’ll be a strong fighter and a strong Rebel.

This was her calling. Omega was ready to follow the stars, as they would guide her to her destiny.

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whipitgod · 1 day

Text

I Panicked

Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham

oneshot - wc: 2.3k

summary: post fall hannigram, fits in the same universe as ‘pushed in’ but its not necessary to read that to understand this one. Hannibal gets a bit introspective as he thinks about how his life turned out, Will just really wants Hannibal to stop stabbing him

warnings: canon typical violence though non-graphic (will gets lightly stabbed), somewhat crack-ish as per usual, and a decent helping of some tooth rotting domesticity

a/n: YOU GUYS ARE ALL SO AMAZING!!! thank you for all the love on the destiel fic! this was fun to write because I’ve been sitting on this idea for a while so it was good to finally flesh it out, i hope you all enjoy it!! if you like this remember to leave a like/reblog! maybe even follow me :D! Happy reading!!

!!!!REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!!

All things considered, Hannibal had never expected his life to turn out like this; he had been, for lack of better phrasing, well and truly domesticated. They had settled into a small home in rural Argentina after pulling themselves out of the raging water Will had thrown them into, the nearest town no less than 30 minutes away; which Hannibal had initially taken issue with before seeing how at peace the younger man had been in the countryside.

Will had flourished in the new environment much to Hannibal's delight, the ex-profilers joy making it hard for Hannibal to be upset about their living situation. The home is nothing like how his home in Baltimore had been, the one they reside in now was single story and unassuming. White in color and surrounded by trees with a lake a couple hundred yards back behind the house, the home reminded him more of how Will's home had been in Wolf Trap. Hannibal found it difficult to complain about the home when it was shared with the younger man, whenever he felt the need to his mind would supply him with memories of Will walking through the back door after spending all day down by the lake fishing, the dog Hannibal had got him when they had first arrived at the home following close behind him.

Hannibal really had never pictured his life ever being anything like this, the concept of finding a shelter and choosing a dog for someone would have made him laugh a decade ago. He reasons that he had never had anyone to do it for before, because when they had arrived in Argentina almost three years ago Hannibal had barely batted an eye while he made quick work of locating a shelter about an hour away from the home to find a dog for Will.

Despite all this he still has his moments, he reminds himself sometimes that nobody is perfect; everyone has moments of weakness and lapses in judgment. Hannibal tries his best to maintain his composure and not let himself do anything too impulsive but sometimes the flood of emotions he gets in the face of the domesticity he and will now shared got the better of him; he had never been good at reacting rationally and it was apparent in how he tended to handle his emotions.

His most recent lapse in judgment had surprised even him, even now a week later he’s still a little unclear on why he had reacted to the emotions he shared with Will the way he did. He really had no reason to do what he did but Hannibal had never been a very reasonable man despite how much he tried to claim he was.

2 Weeks Ago

“Jesus Christ Hannibal, why did you stab me!?” Will’s hand presses against the wound made by the small paring knife Hannibal had been using to prepare dinner.

Hannibal, to his credit, feels at least slightly bad about the turn of events and responds with a flustered, “I'm not sure, I panicked,” the cannibal reaches to move Will's hand so he can inspect the wound, “my sincerest apologies Will.”

Will lets out a disbelieving sound akin to a laugh, “Panicked about what!” His tone is sharp, and he lets out a hiss as Hannibal prods at the wound, “We were just talking about our plans for tomorrow!”

Hannibal freezes momentarily at the words; why had he stabbed Will? The man honestly isn't quite sure, he supposes it might have something to do with the domesticity of the situation and the overwhelming rush of emotions he got whilst listening to Will talk about their plans like they were an old married couple.

“I believe I had meant to kiss you,” Hannibal meets Will's eyes briefly as he says this, “again, I sincerely apologize.”

Will just sighs at this, “It’s fine Hannibal, just help me stitch this up,” he shakes his head muttering a frustrated, “I can’t believe you stabbed me.”

“Of course, dear.” The older man pulls his hands away from where he had them still pressed against the wound, turning slightly to turn the stove off; Hannibal can’t believe he stabbed him either. Will begins walking towards their bathroom, hand clutched to his side and his gait a little uneven betraying the pain he was in; Hannibal really isn’t sure how he was going to make up for this one. The cannibal trails behind him, instructing him to remove his shirt once they had reached the somewhat small room.

“You’re unbelievable,” the words leave Will with a surprising amount of fondness, “Remind me to stop standing so close to you while you make dinner.”

Hannibal lets out a light chuckle at this, shaking his head slightly, “I will try and refrain from stabbing you going forward,” He inspects the wound on Will's lower stomach, sighing softly, “You don’t need stitches dear, but let me clean and bandage it.”

“Little victories,” it’s said with a teasing smile, “and I've heard that before Hannibal, it feels a bit hollow when you keep stabbing me.”

The older man huffs an affronted sound at this, lips curling down a bit, “I haven’t stabbed you in four months.”

“It’s fun that you keep track,” Will spots the guilty look gracing the cannibals features and sighs, he reaches up and places a hand on the man's cheek feeling the slight stubble there, “I know emotions aren’t easy for you, and for what it’s worth I'm proud of you.”

Hannibal scoffs quietly at this, shaking the man's hand off, “Don’t patronize me Will.”

“I'm not,” urged Will, “I really am proud of how well you’ve adapted to our life here; I know it wasn't easy for you.”

The cannibal offers him a small smile at this before patting the bandage that now adorned Will’s abdomen, “Good as new.”

Present day

Hannibal shakes his head at the memory, all things considered, Will had gotten over the man's slip up with a surprising ease; Of course nothing is ever truly easy with Will. The ex-profiler had a tendency to hold onto things to use them as leverage, bringing up Hannibal's misdeeds whenever the couple would argue. The most recent incident had been used to strong arm Hannibal into a fishing trip, the younger man lamenting how Hannibal never partook in the activities that he enjoyed; saying that the cannibal owed it to him to join him on the fishing trip after the older man had stabbed him.

Hannibal had decided not to argue, having learned that with Will he had to pick his battles carefully. The fallout of the cannibal denying him would be worse than a day sat on a boat under the hot sun; at least that's what he had thought up until he had seen the life jacket Will was insistent on having him wear. He thinks back on the argument the life jacket had caused with a huff of retroactive annoyance.

1 Week Ago

“Good lord, what is that?” Hannibal chokes out whilst looking at the neon orange life jacket that Will is holding out for him.

“You’ve never seen a life jacket?” Will's tone is sarcastic as he waves the life jacket in front of the cannibal's face; the older man staring at it like he’s trying to set it on fire with his mind.

“Of course I've seen a life jacket William, don't be ridiculous,” Hannibal waves a hand in its direction, “but why in god's name is it that color?”

“In case emergency search and rescue has to find your body in the lake.” The younger man says this like it's the most obvious thing in the world and Hannibal finds the statement a bit unsettling.

His brows furrowed as he finished processing what Will had said, “Do you plan on me ending up dead in the lake?”

“Depends,” Will shoves the life jacket to Hannibal's chest and the older man lets it fall to the floor without sparing it a glance, “are you gonna be this irritating all day?”

“Very funny dear.”

“I’m not laughing.”

Will, deciding the conversation is over, turns away from Hannibal to finish organizing his tackle box and assorted fishing gear, not sparing another glance to the man even when he starts grumbling quietly to himself; Will only picks up on some of it, not really paying attention.

“We’ll see who ends up in the lake,” there's rustling behind will and the sound of the life jacket being picked up off the floor, “could call it payback for the dress shoes I lost in the ocean.”

Will looks over his shoulder at the man and sends him an annoyed glare, effectively silencing the cannibal.

Present day

Hannibal hated that life jacket; he hated that Will hadn’t worn one as well even more. The fishing trip wasn’t all that bad, though he’d never admit that to the other man; he had complained too much to then turn around and say that he had had a good time. He had found fishing to be rather peaceful, the calm waves rocking the boat accompanied by a comfortable silence, well partial silence. Once Hannibal had stopped complaining there was a comfortable silence, and even though he would never admit it to Will, he knew that he had complained for quite a while.

Hannibal startles slightly at the sound of the back door banging open and the thud Will’s boots made as he entered their home, he hears the paws of the dog following shortly after, the dog never far behind will.

“Honey I’m home!”

Another thing Hannibal would never admit to was how much he enjoyed when Will would enter the house like that, finding a lot of pleasure in hearing Will call the place they resided ‘home’, the phrase always implying that it was their home; a space that they shared. The younger man enters the kitchen, setting the fish he had caught during his trip on the small island, before shifting his eyes to where Hannibal sat and sending the man a smile, eyes crinkling in the corners with the force of it.

“How was your trip dear?” Hannibal stands walking over to where Will is standing at the island starting the process of cleaning the fish. His hands reach out landing on the counter each side of Will’s waist as he peers over the man's shoulder at the fish in front of them, “By the looks of it, it went well.”

Will cranes his neck to look briefly at the man, eyes softening before he leans in and steals a chaste kiss; Their affection had become startlingly domestic compared to how it was when they had first arrived. They had behaved like touch starved teenagers for the first couple months, every kiss turning into something more. The two, now a few years into living with each other, expressed more casual intimacy than Hannibal had ever thought he was capable of. Quick kisses in greeting, or the gentle kisses Will would press to his cheek before he would rush out the door becoming a part of their routine; Hannibal frequently pressing kisses to the top of Will’s head when he would walk behind where the man was sitting, inhaling deeply as he does, taking in the smell of their shared shampoo.

The memories as well as the current position they’re in is horrifically domestic and Hannibal kind of wants to stab him again, though he stamps the thought down as quickly as it comes. Emotions swirl inside of him and he’s unable to pinpoint all of them though he’s able to pick out happiness fairly easily, the emotion had become commonplace after their years of living together; Hannibal had never thought it would be possible to feel as deeply as he does now.

“It was good,” Wills hands now working with a skill that had taken decades to acquire as he guts and cleans the fish in front of him, “how was your day? Do anything fun?”

Hannibal pauses for a moment considering, “It was good, though rather uneventful.”

Will let out a curious noise urging Hannibal to continue, “Oh yeah? Why's that?”

“The day somewhat slipped away from me; I haven’t even begun preparing for dinner.”

Will snorts at this, “Oh no, how will we ever survive,” his tone is teasing, and he laughs a bit as the words leave him, “we’ll starve before you manage to get dinner together.”

“I know, what a horrible twist of fate,” Hannibal presses a kiss to the side of Will’s head before continuing, “we managed to elude the FBI’s grasp for years only to succumb to hunger.”

Will’s shoulders shake with silent laughter before he sets the knife in his hand down, wiping the fish viscera off of his hands before turning in Hannibal’s arms, the man having yet to move them from the island, keeping Will caged. Will doesn’t attempt to touch the man, very familiar with his obsession with cleanliness, instead he leans his head forwards and rests it against Hannibal’s chest. The man's hands move from the counter then landing on the small of Will’s back, fingers toying with the waistband on the back of the younger man's pants.

Will heaves a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly as the tension releases from his body now that he’s wrapped in the other man's arms. They stay like this for a few minutes, Hannibal rocking slightly, a soothing gesture that makes Will’s shoulders slump even further.

The ex-profiler starts to laugh, the sound vibrating against Hannibal's chest prompting the cannibal to pull Will back slightly to look at his face, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I'm great,” more laughter leaves him, “I was just thinking about stabbing you.”

“Excuse me?!”

22 notes · View notes

desideriumwriter · 2 days

Note

hi! i saw you opened your requests and i have one :) i love fred, and i love angst even more. however, most of the angsty fred fics rotate around his death, which yes, it definitely hurts, but i'm looking for something else. i'm a sucker for unrequited love, maybe the reader could be pining after fred and he doesn't reciprocate the feelings or something along those lines. the only particular i'd like is hufflepuff!reader, other than that it's all up to you.

i love love love your writing, thank you in advance 💖💖💖

YES god yes, we all know i'll be on my hands and knees for any sort of angst, plus i've been thinking of writing one of these for awhile now. anyways, i hope you enjoy this lil blurb <3

wc: 682

“Something on your mind?” Fred’s voice ripped you from your daze as he began to walk beside you.

“Nope, nothing.” You shook your head reassuringly. Hoping he wouldn’t be able to see through your facade.

He did.

“Come on, you’ve been staring off into space.” He nudged you playfully, a small smile appeared on your face.

“Just thinking.” You shrugged and shook your head.

“Just thinking about what?” You mimicked your mumbled tone.

“It’s nothing!” You let out a breathy laugh, Fred stopped and stood in front of you.

“It’s something.” He grabbed your shoulders, his touch made it feel like there were fireworks bursting in your stomach.

“And you’re going to tell me.” He squeezed, tilting his chin down slightly to look you in the eyes.

You sighed as you tried to decide if you should tell him the truth or come up with a lie he wouldn’t believe. It was a shitty shot in the dark, and you were going to take it.

“You.” The word came out muttered, yet Fred was still able to catch it.

“Me? Why me?” He smirked, removing his hands from your shoulders and crossing them over his chest.

"Because you're funny, and you know how to get me out of a mood." You fiddled with your yellow tie, not knowing what to do with your hands. “And you’re super smart and talented, you know how to make all these insane potions, you don’t care how others see you or if you get in trouble,” Your eyes darted around, looking everywhere but his face. You didn’t know where you were trying to go with this, but you continued on.

“You’re charismatic and super handsome.” You sighed, you should quit talking now and cut this conversation short.

“And I just really like you Fred…I’m in love with you.” You scoffed in disbelief at yourself, by the time you were able to finally look at him, the smile had ranaway from his face.

He said your name softly, pitfully. You both knew what was coming next.

“Look, I like you too. You’re a really great friend, you’re brilliant even.” He began, your gaze fell to the floor.

You felt like an idiot, you felt humiliated.

You’ve been pining after him for so long, and now it feels like a moment of confidence has just ruined it all. You wanted to do so many things at this moment, you wanted to run, you wanted to kiss him, you wanted to slap yourself, you wanted to burst into tears.

Fred bit down on his bottom lip as his brows knit together, he was searching for the words.

“You’re talented and smart. And it’s kind of you to think of me like that, but...” He let out an awkward sigh, it felt like the ground was crumbling beneath your feet.

"I'm sorry, I just..I don't see you that way. I can’t say that I feel the same.” He gave you a tucked in smile.

A small, barely audible “oh” escaped past your lips. You nodded and tried to blink away the tears that were building up in your eyes.

It was quiet. So quiet and the look of sympathy on his face only made you feel worse.

“Well, uh, I better get going.” Your voice wavered, you tried your best to collect yourself. “I’ve got some papers to finish.” You sniffled and pushed past Fred, your steps speeding up as you walked down the corridor.

Fred called out your name once more, causing you to stop, you took a deep breath before you turned to face him.

“I really am. Sorry. I didn’t mean to lead you on.”

“No, it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have misinterpreted our friendship.” You gave a weak smile through watery eyes, turning away and continuing down the corridor.

Fred stood there, rubbing the back of his neck in guilt as he watched you quickly escape. George came out of his hiding spot from behind one of the stone pillars, giving his brother a rough pat on the back.

“Congrats mate, you’ve broken her heart.”

tell me what you thought!

#fred weasley #fred weasley fic #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley angst #blurb #fred weasley blurb #request

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forbebeandjam · 10 hours

Note

https://youtube.com/shorts/NVMmTIGYWkA?si=hnmx8xyXMwQjEYNk

https://youtube.com/shorts/KINS-YyHCMU?si=MtwCDwHbEKIIdWze

Hi, love! May I please request a fluffy + spicy fic with Bada x blushy smoll girlfriend, basically Bada filming tiktoks doing this to her girlfriend..

Bites & Nibbles | Bada Lee x Fem Reader | smutty fluff

Summary: “should we call out?” “We can’t…”

Word count: 591

Warning: very suggestive content! MDNI if you’ve read my smuts you know.

A/N: hope I did good in meeting your expectations!! Enjoy!!

It was a normal day for you. You got out of bed and walked to the living room to look for your girlfriend, Bada. You rubbed your eyes trying to get rid of any drowsiness from your slubler.

Bada was nowhere to be seen so you went to the kitchen assuming she had already gone to work. When you were pouring yourself a bowl of cereal, you felt a pair of arms wrap around you.

You immediately felt Bada kiss your neck as her scent filled your lungs. You smiled as her kiss managed to make all the drowsiness leave your body.

“Good morning, baby,” she said, and her voice made you blush.

“Good morning, Bada. Are you all ready for work or did you want some food as well?” you said as you shook the box of cereal.

“mh… I want to stay like this for a little longer. Please~” she practically moaned in your ear. Your cheeks turned a bright pink when you felt her lips against our skin once more.

“Bada, you need to go to work and so do I. Don’t do this again,” you warned and she unwrapped her arms letting out a deep sigh.

“You just look so good in my clothes. Why don’t we call out today?” You looked at the clothes you were wearing. Her oversized t-shirt. It was baggy on her and it was even baggier on your small body.

“You called out yesterday when I had to work from home. The restaurant needs you,” you said but with one swift move she had you on the countertop and she positioned herself between your legs.

“Fine, I’ll just have you for dinner then,” she said before attacking your face with kisses. She bit your cheek gently and sucked on the soft skin.

“Can you not!? You’re so annoying!” You said as you laughed and giggled at her childish actions.

“You’re just too cute!” She said as she wrapped you in a tight hug. You smiled and wrapped your arms around her shoulders kissing her neck slightly.

“Just now you were being suggestive and now you’re being all cute. Are you bipolar?” You asked and she buried her face on your neck.

“I can be anything you want me to be. Anything for you, kitten,” she said as her hand slowly made its way up the shirt caressing your thigh lightly. That sent shivers down your spine and you arched your back making your chest press against hers. She could feel your hard nipples through her shirt and she bit her lips.

She rubbed your clothed core with her hand making you let out a moan as you held tightly to her shirt. A smirk was plastered on her face as she slowly moved the panties in between your folds and moved them up and down so they would rub your sensitive area.

“Mh~ Bada… please…” you said and she kissed your lips.

“Please what, baby?” She asked innocently.

“Please just… fuck me,” you moaned but her moves came to a stop when you asked her that.

“Sorry, baby. I’m running late and I can’t call out, remember?” She said as she began kissing your cheeks again and helped you down from the counter.

“I’ll see you tonight, baby. I love you,” she said giving your face one last bite and walking out of the house leaving you dumbfounded and a mess inside your panties.

“Bada… you’re too much,” you mumbled as you admired the state only she could leave you in.

Thank you for reading 🩵

P.S. I know I didn’t add anything with TikTok but I just couldn’t find any correlation between my idea and TikTok 😭 sorry

#forbebeandjam #honeybee156 #street woman fighter 2 #swf2 #bebe #lgbt #bada lee #fluff #smut #bada lee imagine #bada lee x reader #bada lee smut #street woman fighter x reader

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juleswritesstuff · 1 day

Text

Jealousy, jealousy

Poly!Jegulus×GN!Reader

Hi! Ok so I have been in a 'Challengers' brainrot ever since it came out and this is what I gave birth to. This little fic doesn't have anything to do with the movie, it just lit a light bulb in my brain and I went with the flow. I know it may not be everyone's cup of tea, but I was inspired and...this is the result 🤭.

Hope you like it 💗

English isn't my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

Regulus Black was a possessive prick.

Or so Barty said.

“Merlin, didn't you notice the way he was looking at that guy ? The bloke is lucky he is still alive”

“Stop looking like a rabid dog, blondie is not even looking in Potter's direction”

“I swear you can't just curse a random dude for talking to Y/N, Reggie. He was just asking them about the books for Salazar's sake !”

So yeah, Regulus was apparently a possessive guy.

Then why haven't you nor James ever noticed or even witnessed it ?

Barty and Evan always told you and James how Regulus would get fired up as soon as he noticed someone just as breathing in your and the Griffyindor's direction.

But both you and James thought it absurd.

Regulus Black ?

The always calm and collected headboy of Slytherin ? The guy with the stone cold stare and the stoic expression ? The same calm and collected boy that liked to read and write poetry, looking at the stars and sleeping in on Sundays ?

Jealous ?

You and James had a good laugh.

But it never got beyond that.

If you had to consider one of you as the ‘jealous one’ most of the times that would've been James. The boy couldn't go a second without yours and Regulus eyes on him, pouting his way through it to get the attention of his partners, and sometimes sending dirty looks to people who were being a bit too insistent and pushy.

Other times it was you even. Having two of the most handsome boys in Hogwarts as your boyfriends was fun, until random girls tried to slip Amortentia in their cups at dinner, and a weird green concoction in yours.

Then it wasn't fun anymore.

The points deducted from your House were definitely worth seeing the two girls jinxed to puke slugs for a week.

So it was always either you or James. Never Regulus.

He was always calm, put together and, weirdly you must say, extremely affectionate.

So Barty's words didn't really make sense to you and your Gryffindor boyfriend.

Until tonight.

Gryffindor had won a match against Ravenclaw. One of the biggest and toughest matches of the last three years (or so James said), so partying was mandatory.

For a night the Gryffindor common room was opened to everyone who wanted to have fun, relax, and possibly and most importantly, get wasted.

The room was full.

People from every house were there, the sound of muggle music filling your ears (David Bowie, was it ? Salazar, Remus sure talked a lot about that guy).

After getting a drink you spotted some of your housemates talking to Remus and Lily. Dorcas, Pandora, Barty and James were there too.

You walked up to them holding your, now full, glass of firewhisky mixed with some sort of juice. Courtesy of Sirius.

“You guys keep hogging my boyfriend here. I wasn't even able to congratulate him on his victory” You said, arms going to circle James’ neck, careful not to spill your drink, as you left a kiss in his lips.

“You did so good up there” you whispered on his lips before smacking another small kiss on them and letting go.

“Did I ? Must've been my lucky charms” he said grinning, hands still on your waist as he took in the sight of you in Gryffindor colors. A rare occurrence, happening only when the match was a big one.

In all honesty both you and Regulus would rather die than ever wearing red and gold, but James needed to know that the two most important people in his life were there for him, so you made an exception.

Well, that, and the jumpers you always stole from him that were too big on both you and Regulus, but they smelled of James and they were a lifesaver in the nights where you couldn't sneak out to pay him a visit.

“Speaking of” James lifted his eyes to look around the room, scanning it in search of a particular mop of ebony curly hair and stormy eyes “where's Reggie ?”

“Was talking with Evan at the drink table. Said he would be here in a minute” You answered, taking a sip of your drink.

“Good, I have to thank both my charms. Can't miss one” James said with a goofy smile, one that could only be considered lovestruck.

The same kind of smile that curled your lips, too.

“Don't think you'll have to wait for long” added Barty with a smirk on his face, trying to hide it with the rim of his cup as he took a sip.

You and James shared a look of confusion.

Suddenly a voice spoke up.

“Hey, James. Nice match you had up there ! I think it was really thrilling-”

Cole Aleberstine, sixth year Hufflepuff, came to congratulate James as well.

You knew him, you had Divination together. He was a quiet and shy guy, and you were almost sure he had a crush on James.

Which was hilarious considering the whole school knew James was a taken man. A very taken man.

You never considered him a problem, he actually looked like he was terrified most of the time. His little infatuation with James was never acted upon.

You actually found it rather endearing.

But apparently not everyone thought the same.

The poor guy couldn't even finish talking when a louder than usual “Baby” was heard, and suddenly a flash of black hair and gray eyes was in front of the Gryffindor chaser, surging on his tiptoes, fisting James’ shirt in his hand and yanking the boy towards him in a hungry kiss.

James let out a yelp in surprise, and then proceeded to literally melt in Regulus' arms and at the mercy of his lips.

Oh, you knew that feeling all too well. The way Regulus kissed like he was starved, like it was the end of the world and only the taste of your lips could save him.

Yes, Regulus Black was a hell of a kisser.

And you were sure James was in heaven right now.

Being used to it you didn't have much of a reaction (the butterflies in your stomach begged to differ), but the flabbergasted faces of your friends were pure gold.

Even Remus and Sirius, who were more than used to your and the other two boys' antics, were left speechless.

You let out a snicker.

When you turned around Cole was gone, no trace of him whatsoever.

Regulus then parted from James’ lips and turned his head, looking at the empty place that was previously occupied by the Hufflepuff.

The most imperceptible smirk peeked on his lips, like he had won the lottery or something.

Your eyebrows slightly furrowed.

What ?

And then it clicked.

The way Regulus was definitely at the drink table before Cole showed up and then, as soon as he opened his mouth, he stormed there like a fury, kissing James like his life depended on it, like he wanted to swallow him whole, like he wanted everyone to know that the Gryffindor chaser was his.

A grin spread on your lips.

Oh, Barty was right.

Regulus Black was a jealous prick.

And he made sure that everyone knew by claiming you and James.

And only then your brain realized that all the time he was extra handsy in public, which was very uncharacteristic of him, he was trying to literally mark the territory.

A part of your brain wanted to find it a little excessive, but the other, more prominent, part found it extremely attractive.

Barty sent a knowing look in your direction.

The obvious ‘I told you so’ written on his face made you shake your head lightly in complete disbelief.

“Damn, I must've been really good then”

Said James, who looked thoroughly snogged, lips plump and glasses crooked on his nose.

“You were alright I guess” said Regulus, trying to appear as unimpressed as possible, but the sweet smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

James loved when Regulus was a little mean to him, all in good fun, of course, and it was entertaining for you to watch.

“I should start playing Quidditch too if this is the treatment we get from our boyfriend” you added, a playful offended tone in your voice.

“No need for that, mon étoile” Regulus said with a proper smile this time, detaching himself from James, picking you up and spinning around once before kissing you softly but just as eager.

Funny thing ? You could still taste James on his tongue and it made your head spin.

His lips like silk, molding perfectly with yours as you let out a content sound.

“Yeah, better not. I'd probably end up with a broken bone every two weeks”

You said chuckling and a little breathless, as he put you down gently, hands still on your hips.

“I already have one boyfriend with enough broken bones, I definitely don't need you doing that too”

He said as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“But- I mean, if you want to you can of course”

He added.

“I was joking Reggie, don't worry” you said smiling, endeared by him “I definitely like it more when my feet are on the ground”

“Pity” interrupted James “You would look so hot riding a broom with the wind in your hair” he stated, drinking from his cup.

“I'd say I ride enough things already, don't you think ?” you said with a smirk and a raised brow.

James proceeded to choke on the alcohol in his mouth, while Regulus cheeks tinted a splotchy red.

“Ok, enough” said Sirius, his face distorted in horror “there are certain information that we really don't need to know”

“Speak for yourself, Black. I wanna know everything”

Barty said, wiggling his brows.

Regulus threatened to make him bald for the rest of his life.

Laugher roared, and the night proceeded as smoothly as a party at Hogwarts could ever go.

#marauders #marauder's era #regulus black #james potter #regulus x reader #james x regulus #james x reader #sirius black #remus lupin #barty crouch junior #harry potter #polyamory #lily evans #evan rosier #pandora rosier #dorcas meadowes #marlene mckinnon

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iridescentpull · 1 day

Text

Day five of Hideduo/FitPac Kiss Week – Desperate/Dramatic Kiss & 2b2t/Fuga AU

[ ao3 link here ] [ fic below cut! ]

Pac would say he's lived through pretty unusual things.

But this has got to be the craziest.

One minute he's in the middle of the sea, escaping from a maximum security prison with Mike and Guaxinim, one leg less and with a stab in his shoulder. The next, he's falling from the boat and into the deep, blue sea, and everything goes black.

And now, he's here, in the land he's learned is called 2b2t. A world full of anarchy, and where only the strong can survive.

Pac is a survivor. He's survived the streets, he's survived prison, he's survived criminals and a cannibal. But this? This is something different.

He doesn't know how to get out. If he even can get out.

Until he comes across a man with an arm less and with a distrust of others. And with him, maybe, just maybe, he can make it out alive.

That was a month ago, and Pac would like to say he's gotten to know Fit quite well. At least, as well as you can get to know a guy with trust issues and who always carries around an axe and is ready to kill. But Pac is an optimist by nature, and he'll take any chance of survival that he can get.

Even if the guy seems to be a bit of an asshole.

Fit and him have been wandering around the land for the past weeks. The older was traveling to one of his bases hundreds of thousands of blocks away, and Pac didn't want to be alone so he decided to tag along. He has to admit, it has been... fun, traveling with Fit. They've gone to war, they've fought for their lives, and they've had their fair share of laughs. Pac is actually looking forward to arriving at their destination.

And if he caught a few feelings toward Fit? Well, that's his own business, isn't it?

"I think we'll stop here." The American says, inspecting the cave he's found. It's a bit small, and the roof is low, but there's no spawners and there's an entrance facing the ocean, which would make it easier to fish. Pac likes it.

They place their belongings on the floor, and they both go about their separate businesses. Pac prepares the sleeping bags while Fit hunts for some fish. It's nice, it's quiet, it's domestic.

Hours pass by and the pair are sitting inside the cave, a fireplace between them. Fit has a journal in his hand, documenting the day's journey while Pac is busy cooking the fish filets. It's not his best meal, but he can't really complain.

"Hey Fit?" The Brazilian asks, quickly giving a glance to the other. Once the older hums, Pac continues. "Do you have any dreams?"

Fit looks at him. "Dreams?"

Pac nods. "Yeah. Like, you know, dreams you want to accomplish." He says, flipping the fish on its side. "What you might want to do once you leave this place."

"Leave this place?" The other says, and there's a tone Pac doesn't know how to decipher. Fit chuckles, but there's no humor in his voice. "You think there's a way to leave this place? You're crazy."

The Brazilian hums. "There's got to be, right?" Pac says, and he's trying to be optimistic but the words come out a bit more bitter than intended. He sighs, running a hand over his hair. "I mean, if I ended up here, then it means there has to be a way to leave."

"Pac, there is no exit." Fit says, and his voice is tired, resigned. Pac knows Fit's lived here for longer than he has, but the younger doesn't want to give up. He can't. "Trust me. There's no way to leave."

And Pac rolls his eyes, because he is getting tired of this. "And how do you know?"

"I've tried to find a way to leave." The American says, putting the journal down. His voice is steady, but the way his hands shake is the only thing that gives his emotions away. "There is no way. You better start getting used to the idea of being here forever."

The male groans. "That's all you say!" He exclaims, and his tone is loud, angry. "Why don't you stop being so fucking pessimistic for once and just hope? You can't keep being a coward and not doing anything."

"Oh, I'm a coward?" Fit scoffs, and he puts the journal away, his attention now fully on Pac. "Tell me, you've lived in this world for a month. And I've lived here for years. I've seen people die and never come back. I've seen the cruelty of man and I've seen the evilness in humans."

"And yeah, maybe I'm a coward." The American continues, and his voice is hard, his eyes cold. Pac can't look away. "But at least I'm alive. And I won't let some newbie tell me what I should and shouldn't do."

Pac is speechless. The younger can't find the words, and he can't form any coherent sentences. His mouth keeps opening and closing, and there's a lump in his throat that won't go away.

He is mad. At Fit, at 2b2t, at this situation. He is so angry, he feels his blood boiling under his skin and he's about to burst. He wants to yell, scream, break things and curse this stupid server.

He wants to go home.

"Fuck you." He spits, and his words are poison, his voice is venom. His face is twisted with anger, and Pac is sure his eyes are red. He wants to hurt Fit, wants him to understand how Pac is feeling, how he wants to get out of this place, how he can't be stuck here for the rest of his life.

How he is afraid.

"You're a coward, a fucking coward." Pac is screaming now, his face is red. "There HAS to be a way back, why won't you believe me, caralho ?!"

He's pacing the cave, running his hand through his hair. Pac's heart is beating fast, and he is breathing harshly. He feels like a caged animal. He feels like a stranger in his own skin.

Fit snarls. "Shut the fuck up, do you want us to get found?!"

"Oh, I don't give a shit!" Pac screams, his voice hoarse. He turns to the other, his face red with fury and his eyes shiny with tears. "You've given up, you're just a coward. I will find a way to leave this shithole." He says, and his voice is broken. "I'm not staying here."

Fit stares at him, and his eyes are full of hurt, his face twisted with pain. "Fine." He spits out. "Be my fucking guest. Get yourself killed for all I care."

And Pac wants to scream, wants to yell, but the words are stuck in his throat and his mind is a mess and his chest is aching. "Fine." He repeats, and his voice is a whisper, a shadow. He doesn't have the strength to scream. "I will."

Pac packs his belongings and leaves the cave. He doesn't look back. He wanders through the beach for a few hours, before settling down in a crevice on the side of a hill. His stomach grumbled, but he ignores it. He doesn't have the motivation to cook anything. He doesn't have the motivation for anything.

The Brazilian falls asleep to the sound of the waves and the cold night wind. His last thoughts are of Fit, and how he wishes things could have gone differently.

He wakes up to the sound of fighting outside the crevice. There's a sword, and an axe, and the sound of wood being destroyed and rocks breaking. Pac feels his heart beat faster as he looks around, his hands searching for his weapons. He picks his sword, before slowly peeking over the edge of the crevice.

And then, he sees him. Fit is standing there, and his short hair is wild and his face is full of dirt. There's blood splattered over his shirt, and his axe is dripping with it. The American is panting, standing over a body, and there's a wild look in his eyes, and for a moment Pac is enthralled.

Then, Fit spots him, and the male is climbing up the crevice, and Pac can see the relief in his eyes and the way his shoulders slump. "You're okay." He says, relieved. Fit's voice is soft, and it makes Pac's heart clench.

"Of course I'm okay." He says, and there's still a hint of anger in his voice. The American sighs, and Pac can feel the exhaustion rolling off of him.

The male starts walking towards him. "Pac, I-"

"Fit!" The Brazilian tries to warn, but it's too late. “Watch out!”

The sound of a slash is heard, and the other is falling down, and his eyes are wide and his face is pale. There is a person behind him, holding a diamond axe and his eyes are gleaming with murder. He is about to give the killing blow when Pac pushes him, sending him tumbling to the floor.

"Fit!" He yells again, watching as the person who's been his only friend for a while, his one constant, starts to slowly close their eyes. " Fit! Fit, no!"

The Brazilian turned to the person in front of him, who's slowly approaching him with their diamond axe held up high. He could see their grin through the holes of their mask, and he felt so angry. It felt like he was reaching his breaking point, all the bad luck from the past few days coming together to finally ruin him.

"Filho da puta!" He yelled, crouching as the other figure swung their axe. The diamond sword in his hands felt heavy, but he didn't have time to think about that. He had a fight to win. "I’m going to kill you! I'm going to kill you!"

With every word, he swung his sword, hoping that he would manage to at least do some damage to the person who ruined everything. They blocked all his hits, however, and before he knew it, they'd knocked the diamond sword out of his hands and had him pinned against the wall of the building he was standing in front of.

He struggled as the other person watched, and Pac could see amusement on their face. He glared at them, his fists clenched as he tried to find a way to escape.

"Let me go!" He yelled, struggling harder against their grip. "Let me go, resto de aborto! "

The person huffed, and Pac wanted nothing more than to punch them in the face. "Not gonna happen, mate."

He continued struggling, and it seemed like the person was starting to get tired of it. Pac's eyes flickered to the axe that was still being held by his neck, and he swallowed as he felt the sharp edge of it prick at his skin.

"Now, now, calm down, or I might end up hurting you." The person said, and their voice sent shivers down Pac's spine. Their tone was very amused, almost like they were enjoying his pain. "Wouldn't want that, now would we?"

Pac glared at them, before grinning. "You wouldn't want to mess with me." He said, trying to keep his voice steady.

The other person snorted. "Sure, whatever you say, mate." They said, and Pac could hear the sarcasm in their voice.

"I mean, I did escape prison, didn't I?" He continued, trying to keep their attention off the fact that he'd managed to wiggle his left hand out of their grip. He could see the person's eyebrows raise. "And I don't think you'd want to mess with me, I know how to use a sword, you know?"

"So?" The other person asked, raising an eyebrow. "What are you gonna do, stab me with it? I don't think you'd manage, I'm stronger than you."

Pac hummed. "Maybe." He said, before kicking the person with his prosthetic leg. He saw their eyes widen as they flew backwards, and he took that chance to grab the axe out of their hands. "But I'm smarter."

"You son of a-" They cut themselves off, glaring at him. "Fine, if it's a fight you want, it's a fight you'll get."

Grinning, Pac rolled his arm. "Come at me."

The two started running at each other, their hands stretched out. Just as they were about to meet in the middle, Pac turned and grabbed Fit's diamond sword from the ground, and swung it. The person, however, wasn't as lucky, and Pac ended up stabbing them in the shoulder. They let out a cry of pain, and Pac grinned, pulling the sword out.

"How about that?" He asked, and the person growled.

"I'll kill you!" They yelled, running at him again.

This time, though, Pac was prepared. He swung his sword, cutting the person across their torso. They staggered back, their face twisted in anger.

"You little bitch." They snarled, and Pac rolled his eyes.

"Whatever you say." He said, watching as the person stood back up and ran towards him. He was able to dodge their attack, and they let out a frustrated noise as they ran past him. Pac swung the axe and hit the person across their stomach, making them cry out in pain and collapse against the ground.

Pac walked towards them. "A tip for you: always tie your victims first." He raised the axe, before slamming it down, killing the person immediatly.

Breathing heavily, he let go of the handle. His heart felt like it was beating out of his chest, and his head was pounding. His heart clenched at the realization.

"Fit!" He yelled, rushing to where the body of the veteran laid on the floor. He dropped to his knees, and pulled him into his arms. He placed a hand over the gaping wound on his chest, trying his best to stop the bleeding. "Fit, Fitch - I need you to wake up."

The man groaned, and Pac's heart skipped a beat. He pulled the male closer to him, trying to ignore the blood that was staining his clothes. His hand went to the bag the other was wearing, pulling out one of the healing potions Fit had inside.

"Hey, Fit." He whispered, uncorking the potion. "Come on, open your mouth, you need to drink this."

Fit's eyes opened, and the man looked at him blearily. "Pac?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's me." He replied, putting the potion to the other's lips. "Come on, Fit, you gotta drink this."

The veteran opened his mouth, and Pac helped him drink the potion. Once the other had finished, he threw the empty bottle to the side, and wrapped his arms around the male, pulling him close. He ignored the blood, and focused on the sound of the male breathing.

"Hey, Fit," he whispered, closing his eyes as he let his beating heart calm down. "Don't ever do that again, okay? Not here, not now, not ever."

Fit chuckled. "I'll do my best." He said, and Pac's heart ached. "I'm... I'm sorry for earlier. For saying those things to you, it was..."

"Hey, it's alright," Pac replied, looking down at the other. "I was being an ass, too."

Fit cackled. "That you were, that you were." He sighed, and Pac pulled him closer. "I guess, you're right. About being a bit of a coward, that is."

"Me? Right? Who would've thought you'd admit I was right." The Brazilian teased.

The other smacked his arm, and Pac laughed. "Shut up, you idiot." He sighed, his eyes fluttering shut. "I have a lot of things I regret, but I don't want to regret one more thing."

"Like what?" Pac asked, running a hand through the other's hair.

"This."

And suddenly, their lips were touching.

The kiss was messy, and awkward, and Pac felt like his entire body was burning, but he loved it. The kiss was everything he'd dreamed of, and more. When they pulled away, Fit had the dopiest smile on his face, and Pac felt himself mirroring the expression.

"Woah." Fit said, hazel eyes wide.

Pac laughed. "Yeah, woah." He agreed.

#hideduokisswk #fitpac #pactw #fitmc #aynee rambles #qsmp writing

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werewolves-are-real · 4 months

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I keep promising myself that ONE DAY, I will do enough research into 1800s China to write a proper Temeraire fic taking place there. But there's sooooo much I would want to research first. Even if I skimmed over court details as much as possible - which I don't want to do, tbh - it would just feel very shallow. And it's hard to properly flesh out any characters without any understanding of court life, dynamics between different classes... also just, you know, common beliefs? Attitudes? Religious beliefs too, etc etc.

One day! Hopefully. And we just get so little of Mianning (much less the other Chinese characters) it's hard to do them justice :( Doesn't help that no one really wants to tell Laurence or the aviators what they're actually thinking lol.

#I have some small bits from a fic I want to do #basically with confused amnesiac pre-Temeraire Laurence #who saves the prince's life and gets basically adopted into the royal family #then formally adopted when Temeraire hatches #right around the time his memory comes back and he gets to go back to England #hey I'm alive and a prince now here's my dragon #making his introduction to the Corps 100x as wild #and also after China Laurence disapproves SO much of barbaric England dragon-rearing #what do you mean you don't even cook their food??#Raw meat? Xiang is a prince too thank you #- But I want to do a LOT of stuff in China first and really build the relationship with Mianning as a main character #(and a growing complex dislike of Yongxing who loathes him at first sight)#but also not wholly without reason become missionaries opium etc etc #suspicious amnesia backstory etc #and I can't write any of that properly without! So much research!#I am too lazy for this sigh

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astraystayyh · 3 months

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pieces of you

single dad!chan. x fem!reader

genre : neighbors!au. fluff. angst. slow burn. mutual pining. 8.7k wc

summary : In which you and chan are each other's missing pieces. Alternatively, Chris and his daughter come knocking at your apartment asking for flour, and he's no longer embarrassed when you open the door.

a.n. : my chris best girl dad agenda is going strong!!!!!! my second fic for the winter falls collab with my writer xi hehe i hope you will all enjoy reading!! feedback is highly appreciated 🤍 the song chris will write for sowon is light by sleeping at last, highly recommend listening to it!!

winter falls masterlist.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“Shh, daddy smile.”

Soft murmurs linger just beyond your door, elusive words that could easily be dismissed as figments of your imagination. However, any doubt in your mind dissipates with three resounding knocks, jolting you from your momentary contemplation.

A reluctant groan escapes you as you glance down at your attire—a loosely hanging oversized hoodie, a testament to the numerous times it has been tugged down, and a pair of pajama pants whose matching top has mysteriously vanished. Clearly, you don't feel presentable enough to welcome anyone at this late hour. So, you remain motionless, futilely lowering the TV volume in hopes that whoever's behind the door will just continue with their night. But the knocks persist against your wish, so, with a resigned sigh, you rise from your seat, your blanket cascading to the ground in a soft descent.

“What–” the words dissolve in your mouth like a sweet nectar as you open the door, your eyes beholding no one in your periphery. A slight tug at your pants draws your attention downward, only to find the most adorable child your eyes have ever laid on. She's clad in Rapunzel-themed pajamas, wolf slippers bumping into your plain ones, and, to your surprise, a whisk cradled in her small hand.

“Hey there,” your voice softens as you crouch to meet her warm gaze. You find an innocent happiness gleaming in her eyes, a radiant spark shining even beneath the corridor's muted light. Two dimples adorn her cheeks as she smiles at you.

“Hi, my dad wants to tell you something,” she says, pointing with her whisk to the very end of the hallway. You crane your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive figure.

“Your dad?”

“Mm. He’s a bit shy, that’s why he’s hiding,” she confides in a whisper. But, despite her earnest attempt, her words still resound loudly in the vacant space, causing giggles to spill out of your mouth.

“And you aren’t shy?” you inquire, tilting your head.

“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head with conviction as someone emerges behind her. She instinctively wraps an arm around their leg, nestling her cheek against their thigh.

She isn't shy because she feels protected.

You rise from your place, eyes locking with a familiar shade of brown. Only these hold a mesmerizing quality to them making your very breath catch in your throat. Kindness pours from his gaze as it travels down your face, a sentiment that further materializes as delicate smile lines stitch around the corner of his eyes.

He’s beautiful.

Your eyes trail down to two pairs of dimples, mirroring the ones of his daughter perfectly. She is his living portrait, sharing his eyes, lips, and smile. Yet, his cheeks blush in a hue she does not possess, while his left hand fiddles with his earlobe, in an unspoken, timid gesture. For some odd reason, it pierces straight through your heart.

“Sorry for bothering you,” a smooth Australian accent rolls off his tongue, similar to rich butter spread on warm bread- it infuses your being with tingles pulsating from the base of your toes. You suddenly no longer miss your blanket.

“I'm your next-door neighbor. We were just making cookies and we realized we actually don’t have flour,” he explains, a bashful smile imprinted onto his lips.

“You didn’t check beforehand?” you ask, laughter tinting your voice.

“I forgot,” he admits, but his tone sounds almost sad as if beating himself over it. A fleeting shadow veils his face briefly, dissipating like a passing cloud grazing the sun.

“Can we borrow some from you? I told Sowon that we could go to the store but she said it’s too cold out,” he asks, his hand resting on his daughter’s shoulder soothingly.

“It is too cold out,” you agree with a frown, looking down at Sowon to which she smiles brightly, happy to have your support.

“And of course, I'll bring you flour. Don’t worry about it. Do you want to come in meanwhile?”

“It's okay, we'll wait here. Don’t want to intrude.”

“Thank you!” Sowon beams, her missing tooth in full display.

“Yeah, thank you so much…” he trails out, tilting his head as if to silently inquire about your name.

“Yn. And you?”

“Chris.”

“Nice to meet you, Chris,” you smile, shaking his extended hand. His fingers wrap around your palm, and it feels as if you’re grasping thunder, crackling with an electricity that your eyes can’t behold, yet your soul does, suddenly illuminated from within.

Your smile grows as you detach yourself from his hold, before bending forward to bop Sowon’s nose. “And nice to meet you too Rapunzel.”

Your words make her hide behind her father’s leg, peeking out slightly to look at you.

“See I'm not the only one who gets shy,” Chan chuckles, and Sowon whines in complaint, further burying her face in her dad’s grey sweatpants.

Adorable, so much it stirs a long-forgotten melancholy within your being.

“She gets a pass, she's still young, right Sowon?”

“Are you calling me old then?” Chan fakes outrage, bringing one hand to his chest while the other cradles Sowon’s back.

“Old enough to forget about flour,” you wink and he laughs, looking down at your slippers.

“Touché.”

A few minutes go by before you come back, a recipient full of flour in your hands. The sight before you makes you pause in your tracks– Chris, leaning against the wall, Sowon propped on his hip, her arms loosely hanging around his neck, her eyes closed.

“Did she…” you whisper and he turns to you.

“Yeah, fell asleep,” he smiles fondly, tucking a few strands of her hair behind the curve of her ear. “She’ll be disappointed when she wakes up to no cookies. She wanted us to have a baking holiday tradition.”

“You don’t know how to make them?”

“No, I was counting on a six-year-old to assist me,” he chuckles quietly, prompting a snort from you.

“Well, keep the flour, in case you need it again.”

“Thank you, Yn,” he grins, the smile taking over his entire face, grabbing the recipient from you.

“You’re welcome Chris,” you say, as you both linger around the door still, not making any attempt to move.

Your eyes refuse to peel away from his, as if there were a magnetic force drawing you to him, telling you that your gaze belonged to rest on him.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, leaning away from the wall. “I'll get going.”

“Yeah, sleep well, Chris.”

“Thank you,” he smiles before turning around.

An idea brews in your head, a germ sprouted by the clear adoration in which Sowon gazed at her dad, and the disappointment in his face as he said he would no longer be making cookies. Had you wished to dig a little deeper, you would’ve also found a long-buried feeling of a little girl who would have loved holiday traditions as well. You close the door before heading straight to your kitchen.

One hour later

You knock softly on Chris’ door, fidgeting from one foot to another. You almost retract back to your apartment after your fourth knock, when the door finally opens, Chris coming into your line of sight.

“Hi,” you greet, hands behind your back.

“Hey,” he smiles, leaning his arm on the doorway, right above your head. He tilts his head to the side, silently wondering what you want. The words dissolve in your mouth at the way his eyes fixate on you as if trying to peer behind your irises onto your mind.

“Cookies,” you bring the plate before him, as his eyes grow wide, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips.

“You made them?”

“Yeah, didn't want Sowon to be disappointed,” you shrug and his eyes grow wild, racking all over your face in disbelief.

“You didn't have to do this,” he finally says, tone softening, syllables ringing like a sweet sonnet in your ears.

“I know. I wanted to. and I'm a baker so making cookies comes easily to me, don't worry about it,” you shrug sheepishly, biting your lower lip slightly. You felt scrutinized by him in ways you haven't felt before.

“Thank you, Yn, I don’t even know what to say,” he says, his smile resembling a beam of light. A surge of pride courses through you at managing to bring it forth.

“No need to say anything. I hope I didn't wake you up,” you smile sheepishly and he shakes his head.

“No, I- I was working in my studio and Sowon is asleep. It's just us two. Always has been,” he adds, tone slightly changing, air growing heavier between you both. It's just them two.

“Studio?” you inquire, hoping to dispel the tension latching around you both.

“I'm a music producer,” he clarifies. “I made a studio here so I could stay the night with Sowon.”

“I'm sure she appreciates that,” you say as you hand the plate to him. His fingertips brush against your own, and a slight electricity courses through you at the touch, the hallway suddenly brighter from the fireworks ricocheting off of you both.

“I…. I'll get going.”

“Yeah, yeah, don't want to take more of your time.”

“I'll see you around.”

“Yeah, I'll see you,” he says, words not ringing carelessly into the air, sounding more like a promise. He'll see you, he'll make sure of it.

ii.

“Can you wait!” a voice echoes near the building entrance, and you prevent the elevator doors from closing as hurried steps near you.

You recognize the voice easily by the light tingles running down your spine, the Australian accent shooting straight through your heart. Its owner materializes, Chris— leather jacket hugging his muscles snuggly, black t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, cap nestled on his head, rebellious strands of ebony hair peeking behind it.

You find the breath knocked out of you once again at his sight. He's beautiful, even more so in broad daylight, where every feature of his comes to life, beckoning, demanding your sole attention.

“Hey, Yn,” he smiles in delight, uttering your name in a familiarity that infuses your being with warmth. Even though you've only talked once, two days ago.

“Hey, Chris,” you greet back, pressing the fourth elevator button again. you face the mirror to find Chris already looking at you, his eyes instantly locking with yours.

“The cookies were good,” he smiles softly and you grin. “I'm glad you think so.”

“Where is your bakery? I need to taste more of your baking.”

The butterflies in your stomach tone down at his words, your attraction momentarily forgotten as gratitude coats your heart instead.

“I can text you the address?” you propose.

“Yeah, here,” he takes out his phone, a picture of him and Sowon set as his lock screen— their cheeks are pressed tightly to one another, messily done eyeliner on both their eyes. you giggle to yourself as you grab the device.

“Cute picture,” you muse and he brings an arm to his neck, scratching the side of it timidly.

“She insists on trying her makeup on me.”

“She makes you look better,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes, tongue poking against his cheek.

“She wants to become a stylist,” he explains, as the elevator doors open. He lets you out first, arm stretched forward.

“I find her passion really cute so I buy her anything she asks for,” he shrugs and you chuckle, pointing to the bag of pink ribbons he is carrying.

“Let me guess, she wants to use these on you?”

“Yeah. She also said that I quote ‘need to learn new hairstyles because her friends always come to class with intricate braids, and she can't go to class with a simple one.’” He repeats, tone growing slightly high-pitched as he mimics his daughter's words. Yet, the fond smile on his face is louder, screaming of his love for her.

“She has you wrapped around your finger,” you muse, leaning against your door. The keys in your bag are long forgotten.

“She can be very scary for such a little girl.”

“What does she threaten you with?” you ask, feigning horror.

“No goodnight kisses,” he whispers, as if scared she'd hear him beyond the wooden door.

“Torture,” you gasp, placing your hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Yet, the smiles slip out of your face instantly. Was it normal for clothes to dissolve under your touch, layers of cotton and leather doing nothing to stop the warmth of his skin from seeping through you? Was it normal to be so affected by such an innocent touch?

“Uhm,” you clear your throat, “I can help you. with her hair, I mean.”

“You don't have to. I already took too much from your time with the cookies,” he seems truly apologetic, his tone sobering as if despising others doing things for him. You see yourself in him, in the way he wants to carry the world’s burden on his shoulders. It is a reflection you wish to mend.

“I don't mind, I remember feeling jealous of the other girls in my school so I made myself learn all the braids.”

And then you see his gratefulness, the twinkle in his eyes that you can only grasp for a millisecond before they disappear into moon crescents. Happiness looks grand on him, overtaking his entire face, brightening his features with a glow too ethereal to be of mankind, as if they were carved to translate joy. You find yourself willing to give up more of your time to see it.

“Thank you,” he breathes out and you nod, a grin taking over your face as well.

“You’re welcome. Let me just change my clothes.”

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

“And then, you pull the right strand all over to the middle one. Then you repeat, this way the ribbon is braided into the hair,” you explain to a very concentrated Chris, his eyebrows furrowed as he follows your movements.

“It looks easy when you do it,” he frowns and you giggle, handing the mirror to Sowon so she'd be able to look at her hair.

“Do you like it,” you ask, a tad apprehensive and she beams, dimples that almost swallow her chubby cheeks surging forth.

“Pretty!” she exclaims and you giggle, bopping her nose. “You are pretty.”

“And you are pretty too. right, daddy?”

You turn back to find Chris watching you, a smile so fond on his face that it renders your insides putty, coats your cheek in the palest shade of pink.

“Very much so,” he says, tone quieter, his eyes never leaving yours.

Sowon suddenly climbs on her dad’s lap, star and moon stickers in hand. She places them all over his face, and he sits there diligently, arms wrapped around her midriff so she won't slip away. Every carefully placed sticker is punctuated by a soft gasp from him and a small giggle from her. You could feel the love radiating from both of them, a feeling so strong it made your heart twist in your chest.

Were there red neon exits you weren’t aware of in your being? Ones through which love trickled away all these years ago? Were the spaces between your fingers carved to hold someone’s hand, or to make everything you've ever wanted slip from your grasp?

“What do you think?” Sowon startles you and you force a smile on your face, willing the heaviness in your heart to dissipate. There were questions you'd never find the answers to, you had to make peace with that.

“I love it!” you grin and Sowon nods, satisfied. You look down at your lap as Chris fixates his eyes on you, a worried crease growing between his eyebrows.

“Fun is over, you need to do your homework, Miss Bang,” he scolds and you snort, as Sowon rolls her eyes slightly.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he fakes offense and you giggle as Sowon huffs slightly. “Dad, I told you I have no homework. I already did it with uncle Felix.”

“Oh, right,” he deflates slightly before brightening up once again, “then, you should put away all these hairbrushes and ribbons, okay?”

“Will you watch a movie later with me?”

“Of course, baby.”

“Okay then,” she grins, quickly standing up to start putting away her things. you smile, getting up your turn to leave. Chris understands and stands with you on cue.

“You can stay and watch the movie with us.”

“It's okay, I have some things to work on,” you turn around, but then you feel his fingers wrapping around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Are you okay?” he asks, hand still burning straight through your skin, igniting a million nerve ends with a simple touch. You avoid his eyes, looking down at the ground. It seems to be response enough for him.

“We’re conditioned to say yes even when we aren’t, right?” he speaks softly, his words travel through your veins in a rapid course against the current of your blood— which one will reach your heart first and flood it?

Your facade cracks. His voice wins.

“So, you don't have to reply now,” his thumb swipes once across your pulse. “But I'll be here if you ever wish to tell the truth.”

iii.

You’ve grown exceptionally fond of Chris in the span of mere months, more than you would like to admit to yourself. It was an easy task, as natural as the current of a waterfall. Yet, you did not plan for it, for a new emotion to settle on top of your lungs, to make you more aware of your heart and how it beats, slightly faster, around Chris. But it happened serendipitously, against all odds, when he knocked on your door at 10 p.m. asking for salt.

“Should I start buying groceries for you?” you joked, and it took Chris a millisecond longer to respond, his gaze wandering across your face, as if discovering the world’s eighth wonder, hidden in plain sight all these years.

“For my defense, I have a daughter that likes experimenting with cooking,” he smiled, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Just with salt?”

“She added four teaspoons of it in an omelet. Then forced me to eat it because I always tell her food shouldn't go to waste,” he shudders at the memory and you chuckle loudly.

Chris knocks on the doors of your heart, once.

It happened when you spotted a cockroach the size of your palm on your bedroom wall. You would’ve killed it, you were going to, except it started flying towards you and you let out a loud shriek you didn’t know your vocal chords were capable of conjuring. So, you called Chris.

“Can you please come over,” you murmured, crouching near the entrance door, a pair of slippers in your hand.

“Why are you whispering? are you okay?” he sounded worried, and you heard the turning of a lock as he opened the door to his apartment. He didn’t ask questions, instantly coming to your aid. A sudden urge to weep filled your being at his gesture.

“There is a cockroach. a flying one,” you precised, horror dripping from your tongue and his laugh flooded your ear, tiny squeaks that made your hold on the slipper grow limp.

“I'm from Australia,” he knocked on your door, and you stood up promptly. “I've seen worse,” he said once you finally opened it, his eyes softening incredibly when they met yours.

He did kill the cockroach, by spraying your insect repellent enough times to asphyxiate you too. “I don't think I can sleep in there tonight,” you sighed, gulping down ice cold water, “why does it feel like we went through war?”

“We? You were behind my back all the time.”

“I was cheering you on, from afar. Spiritually.”

“I can’t believe a cockroach scares you this much.”

“You literally screamed when it flied towards you too.”

“I didn't scream! I made a very manly, non-terrified sound.”

“Mm, sure,” you giggled, voice softening at the blushing of the tip of his ears. Chris didn't have to force the door down to your heart, you willingly opened it for him.

And after that, it was a race to find the silliest excuses to see one another. Chris suddenly taking up an inkling for baking, you manifesting a newfound interest in music, Sowon needing her makeup done for a dance, Chris visiting you in your bakery, Sowon craving your cookies and you teaching her the recipe, Chris knocking on your door and you knocking on his. The same giddy smiles on your faces as you usher each other in. And it always, always ending with a movie night.

“Let's watch Tangled,” Sowon exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly.

“Baby, we watched this movie for the past…” he looks at you for support. “Three,” you whisper, a bashful smile on your face. “Yeah, for the past three movie nights,” he whines slightly.

“But I love it,” she says, her pout morphing into a huge grin. “Again! Again! Again!”

“Fine,” he concedes, mouthing “save me,” from afar to you. You giggle softly while Sowon cozies up to your side, your arm naturally draping across her body while her legs stretch atop Chris’ lap, naturally, as if having you both by her side was the way things have always been. The only reality she’s ever known.

It is a fleeting fifty minutes as the three of you watch the movie, Sowon reciting excitedly the lines that she seems to remember. But then the quiet is replaced by her soft snores, her body growing light against you.

“She fell asleep,” you whisper, tapping Chris’ shoulder to catch his attention. He tilts his head to the side, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his eyes land on his daughter.

“I'm sorry you have to watch the same movie every time,” he says apologetically and you shake your head.

“I don't mind. Tangled is a good movie.”

“Are you here just because of the movie?” he smiles, dimples peeking through. The juxtaposition between the weight of his words and the soft expression on his face makes a buzzing warmth spread through you. He’s cold and hot, in and out, yours but not.

“What do you want me to be here for?” you throw back, squeezing his shoulder slightly.

“The company.”

“I do find Sowon entertaining.”

“Just her?” he pouts and you giggle, tipping your head back.

“And you too, I suppose, by extension.”

“By extension, mm,” he hums, as he gathers Sowon in his arms, freeing her from your hold. “Then I guess I shouldn't come visit you in your bakery anymore. Since you only enjoy my presence by extension.”

“So sassy,” you shout-whisper as you both walk to Sowon's bedroom, “I like your company too, idiot.”

“Yeah?” he turns back to look at you, tone a tad bit too hopeful. He doesn’t care that he sounds eager for your approval, not when he feels as if he can only truly breathe when you're near.

“Yeah, Chris, I really do,” you speak earnestly, and Chris bites his lower lip slightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the gentleness of your tone. Your eyes follow his action instantly.

He lowers Sowon gently onto the bed and she stirs awake, blinking repeatedly at the both of you. “Yn,” she calls out quietly once her eyes land on yours and you kneel before her bed. Chris watches from the door entrance as Sowon cups her hand near your ear, before whispering something to you. He notices your body stiffening, your gaze fleeting to him before you relax, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

He wishes he could freeze time, stitch this moment into his eyelids until it is the only thing he sees when he goes to sleep. Loneliness is too big of an enemy for one person to fight off, but it seems more harmless when you are near.

Chris sees you right here, every night, not forcing your place into his family, but falling seamlessly into place. Perhaps you were the missing piece that’ll soothe the burn in his heart. Perhaps he’d let you in, even as fear paralyzes his being at the mere thought of asking you to stay.

One week later.

You've grown used to the knocks on your door at ungodly hours of the night, Chris seeking your company each time you both fail to fall asleep. Except this time, there is a chilling premonition in your heart as you walk to your home’s entrance, anxiety coiling like a steel ball in your throat.

“What’s wrong?” you ask upon opening the door, locking eyes with Chris's bloodshot gaze.

“Sowon,” he heaves, tone laden with fear, so different from how he usually pronounces her name. The syllables pierce through your heart like an arrowhead dipped in alarm.

“Sowon?” you question, peering behind him to his slightly ajar apartment door.

“Yes, she has a high fever, and it won’t come down. I tried everything, and I-I don’t know what to do anymore. She’s shaking, but I can’t—”He trembles, his quivers akin to delicate chinaware on the precipice of an earthquake, poised to shatter at your feet. You'd plunge to the ground first, anything to soften his impending collapse.

“It’s okay,” you soothe, your voice soft as you grasp his wrist. “Let’s go see her, okay?”

“It's her first time being this sick,” he whispers, clearly distraught, one hand running through his freshly dyed blonde hair.

“It's okay. Don’t panic, it happens. Did you give her medicine?”

“Yes, a few minutes ago,” he replies as you guide him towards her room.

“Good, it'll start working soon,” you reassure, opening the door and crouching before Sowon.

“Hey, Rapunzel,” you coo softly, and Sowon attempts to muster a smile. Her cheeks flush, eyes dim like withered petals.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, pressing your hand to her feverish forehead. You cast a wary glance at Chan, who's anxiously biting his thumb.

“Cold,” she whispers, and you nod, peeling off her blanket. “I know you are, but you have a high fever. We need to let it cool down, okay?”

“I-I’m shaking,” Sowon sighs, lower lip protruding and trembling, both from the iciness clawing at her frail being, and the tears welling in her waterline, like a cup on the brink of overflowing.

“Shh, don't cry. It will pass, it's okay,” you murmur soothingly, cradling her face on your lap, gently moving damp strands of her hair behind her ear.

“Chris, can you bring me a towel and a bowl with cold water?” you ask softly, and the man startles, painfully peeling his eyes away from his daughter, as if doing so would consign her to a dark fate.

“Sure. Sure,” he repeats, scurrying out of the room.

Sowon buries her cheek in your thigh, small hands clinging tightly to yours. You tie her hair up into a loose bun as Chan hurriedly comes back, a bassinet in his hand.

“Thank you,” you smile, as he kneels beside the bed, his hand resting on Sowon’s knee gently.

“Hey sweetheart,” he coos softly, and Sowon blinks at him, light spilling over her face.

“Hey daddy,” she replies as you dip the towel into the water, before squeezing the fabric to remove any liquid excess.

“You're being so strong. I love you so much my pretty girl,” he says, bringing her small hand to rest upon his cheek, bestowing a gentle kiss on her palm.

The moment feels so intimate, so tender, that you almost feel like an intruder. You imagine this is what thorns on roses must feel like, so out of place amid delicate petals and stems.

“I love you too,” she grins, and you remain silent, diligently wiping her face and neck with the dampened towel. You soon lose track of the number of times you've repeated this motion, but Sowon’s eyes are now closed and her body is no longer trembling.

You rest your palm upon her forehead, a sigh of relief escaping your body as you realize that her fever has gone down noticeably- the medicine finally taking effect.

“It's better now,” you smile reassuringly and Chris’s eyes widen, irises shaking as he looks back to his daughter.

“Will she be okay?”

“She will be. She just needs to sleep a bit.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Can we prepare her something to eat meanwhile?”

“Mm,” he absentmindedly nods, his fingers trailing down Sowon’s features delicately, resting upon her round cheeks.

"She looks just like you," you softly smile.

"I know," he admits, not with pride but in surrender, as if his reflection was nothing but a cursed fate. His voice tastes like ocean water, salty, acid, suffocating.

“Chris…” you trail off and he shakes his head, abruptly standing up.

“Let's make her chicken noodle soup. She loves it,” he says and you nod. A ticking bomb resides in his veins, devoid of a countdown, leaving you unsure of when he'll finally explode.

You get your answer soon after—it takes two minutes and thirty-three seconds for the first tear to roll down Chris’s cheek. You spot it as you retrieve carrots from the fridge, averting your gaze as Chan angrily wipes it away.

A few seconds later, five tears follow the same agonizing trail, and now the knife is shaking in Chris’s hands. He squeezes his eyes shut as if frustrated by his pain, by the emotions escaping through the cracks in his heart.

You stay silent, bringing the water to a simmer.

The clank of metal against the counter snaps your attention, and you see Chris with his head lowered down, his hands tightly clutching the counter.

Your tongue moves before you can order it to speak.

"Chris," you call out, your hand finding its place on his back. An ugly sob escapes his lips, a raw cry unearthed from the depths of the soil where he buried his feelings, never allowing himself the grace of grieving, then moving on.

“I'm a horrible father,” he utters so brokenly as if this idea were cemented into his head, woven into every thought of himself—an adjective that lingers like a phantom each time Sowon calls him dad.

“You're not, what are you saying?” you gently turn him around so he'd face you. But his eyes remain downcast, as if ashamed to meet your gaze.

“I didn't know what to do. I panicked. I-I wasn't enough to help her.”

“It's okay, you can't know everything, you are trying your best-”

“No, no, no, it's not just about this!” he snaps, despair clinging to his eyes as he finally looks at you. “It’s hard. It’s so hard to be here alone, and I- I try but it's not enough, I can't do everything and I'm not a good enough parent for her, there will a-always be something missing.”

“You're wrong,” you say but he shakes his head in disagreement. “Chris, you're wrong,” you cradle his face, taking you both by surprise. Your thumb swipes gently underneath the skin of his eyes, wiping his cascading tears.

“You love Sowon. And she can feel it, she can see it, she can hear it. Everyone can. A parent can't be perfect, but they should love. And you love her.”

“What if I can't even love her enough for a father? How will I ever fill the role of two parents?” he's leaning onto your palm, hanging onto your every word. You'd sit for hours and untangle every thread of his mind if you have to, until you single out the infested one and burn it away.

“She loves you Chris. She looks at you as if you hang every star in the sky. As if you're responsible for every good thing that happens in our world. She loves you and you love her.”

You gaze up at the ceiling, tears welling in your eyes. Chan notices the subtle tremble in your hand against his cheek.

“If I had someone who loved me as much as you love Sowon when I was a child, I would've turned out so differently,” you smile bitterly, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

“You won't be a perfect dad. You can't be. But she won't grow up with a throbbing heart, pulsating because of a void that cannot be filled. Her veins won't be poisoned by hate and abandonment. Because she knows what it's like to be loved,” you pause, as your voice breaks, traitorous tears rolling down your cheeks. “To be cared for.”

Your eyes hold his in a silent conversation, secretly telling him what your tongue cannot speak of— Sowon, an untarnished blossom, won't unfurl into a solitary flower the way you did.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers after a while, eyes softening in understanding. His knuckles brush gently against your cheek.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“So you'd find a reason within you to forgive,” he says, as he leans forward to press a tender kiss on your forehead. And somehow it feels more intimate than any way you've been touched before.

Five days later.

chris [11:32 p.m.]: you up?

yn [11:32 p.m.]: i just got bad flashbacks to my college years

chris [11:33 p.m.]: ajaksjsbsbbs

chris [11:33 p.m.]: i didn’t mean it like that ㅠㅠ

chris [11:33 p.m.]: wanna come over? i'm in the studio but im not feeling inspired

yn [11:34 p.m.]: and how will i help?

chris [11:34 p.m.]: i find your presence inspiring

You don’t reply, instead putting on your slippers and walking over to his apartment. He opens the door before you even have the chance to knock.

“What are you working on?” you ask once you’re settled atop his chair, spinning around slightly. He looks down at the pillow on his lap, lightly plucking its pink fur. “A song for Sowon,” he admits softly and your eyes grow a little wide.

“That is so sweet,” you pout, inching closer to him. “How is it going?”

“I've finished the melody and now I'm working on the lyrics. There is just.. so much i want to tell her, i'm unsure if ill be able to express it well.”

“Can I read what you wrote?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he searches through his papers. “Here.”

May these words be the first to find your ears

The world is brighter than the sun now that you're here

I'll give you everything I have

I'll teach you everything I know

I promise I'll do better

I will soften every edge

I'll hold the world to its best

And I'll do better

Tears spring to your eyes unexpectedly, you try to stop their flow but they fall upon the paper, splattering like a broken mosaic, mimicking the brokenness of your own heart.

“I'm sorry,” you spin around, your back to him as you attempt to dry your tears, and yet they show no desire to stop. Chris is in your heart and he’s kicking every other emotion out, forcing you to make amends with your sadness, the one you buried years, years ago.

Chris gently grabs the back of the chair, pulling you back to him before spinning your chair once again until you are facing him. You bury your face in your hands and his rests reassuringly on your knee, squeezing it slightly. “Is it so bad it made you sob?”

“Shut up, you know this isn’t the case.”

His hand delicately traces up your arm, gently lifting your fingers from your face. He kneels before you, his thumb tenderly wiping away the traces of tears on your cheeks.

“Talk to me?”

“It's so beautiful, so warm, so loving. Everything a parent should think of their child,” a traitorous hiccup escapes your lips. “Everything my parents never felt for me.”

Chris’ mouth morphs into a pout, eyebrows scrunching tightly. You shake your head, smoothing down the worried crease between his eyes.

“I don't feel sad over things I can't control and I love myself enough now to compensate for what I didn't have, but sometimes-'' your voice breaks, Chan’s hold on your hands tightens. “It stings to remember what could’ve been.”

Stings was an understatement, it is rather a pulsating void, throbbing in ache every day, calling out for its missing piece. How can I fill you with what was lost when it chose to walk away?

“Come here,” he whispers, coaxing you to your feet, his arms enveloping your body as he guides your head to the crook of his neck. His body runs warm, the material of his sweatshirt soft, and he smells nice too, the contours of his muscles tailor-made to complement the ridges of your own.

“You grew up well, Yn. You did well.”

You clutch his shirt, tightening your grip as you fist the fabric in your palm. He's patting your back, and time slows down to match the rhythm of his touch.

“Love can be hard, I know. Especially when the people who left are the ones supposed to be staying.”

He understands, more than anyone you know. He missed out on a different kind of love too, two facets of the same coin.

“You’re doing well too, Chris. You shouldn’t doubt yourself as much,” your arms trail up to encircle his neck, as his nose tickles your hair. You're the one hugging him now. “Sowon is really smart, she told me that she loves you a lot. She can feel it. She sees everything you do for her.”

“Is that what she told you that movie night?”

“Partly,” you whisper, and Chris leans away slightly, his warm palms still pressed to your waist, holding you close.

“What else did she tell you?” he asks, curiosity barely hidden in his tone.

You pause for a while, eyes going over the entire room before finally locking on him.

“She thanked me, said that I make you smile more.” You suck in a deep breath, gathering your courage. “Do I?”

“There are smile lines that don’t show on my face until you're near.”

“Oh.” That is the only coherent response you can formulate, and Chris giggles, a tiny squeak escaping his lips in a huff. “Cute,” he murmurs, planting a tender kiss on your temple. His lips linger, holding onto the moment a beat longer than necessary, causing your eyes to close in delight. Both of you find yourselves blushing as he leans away, a shared warmth coloring the space between you.

“Sorry, didn't mean to make the mood somber,” you say sheepishly as you sit back down, eyeing Chris’s laptop. “I wanna hear this,” you quickly point to a random track on his screen before he can reply, hoping to make the sadness flee away.

“This one? It’s not really good, let's listen to something else,” his rambling and eagerness to change the track pique your curiosity and you quickly click on the song before he can stop you.

connected.mp3 starts playing.

Sultry beats inundate your ears, weaving through your veins and whisking you away to the pulsating rhythm of a dance club. You knew Chris produced good music, yet you never fathomed that his voice could be so luxuriously rich, cascading over you like molten wax. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the suggestive lyrics, the innuendos peeking behind every word. And then, a sudden jealousy claws at your heart, at the thought of Chris hunched in his studio, fantasizing about connecting with someone who isn’t you.

You wished to be the only one Chris liked.

“It’s a- a demo for one of my clients,” he explains through a stutter once the song is done, and you nod meekly, willing your body’s temperature to go down, for the possessivity crinkling in you to fizzle out.

So, you put on your best taunting smirk.

“I know you want me don’t crumble.. No need to be desperate we’re just getting started,” you sing-song back. “You were feeling so cocky when you wrote this, right?” you grin, inching your chair closer to his. “Feeling yourself, Mr. Bang?”

He chuckles with a hint of annoyance, running his tongue along the expanse of his lower lip. Leaning back into his chair, he casually spreads his legs a bit wider, a gesture that suddenly leaves you feeling dizzy, on him.

“It’s cute how affected you seem by it,” he throws nonchalantly, crossing his arms before his chest.

“I'm not,” you smile, although your erratic heartbeat spoke of a different tale, you just didn't need to voice it to him. “I think you were the one getting all hot and bothered in your studio,” you stand between his legs, hovering over him as he leans back fully in his chair.

“I was thinking of a pretty girl.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he suddenly grabs your waist, you feel like your entire body is ablaze. “The prettiest.”

"Who is she?" you exhale, teetering on the edge of crashing your lips onto his, like an incoherent love poem, hastily scrambled on a notebook in a fit of anger.

“y–” The door suddenly opens, Sowon’s small frame standing by the door, she’s rubbing her eyes tiredly, her chick plushie dangling from her hand (a gift from her uncle Felix as she explained to you). You quickly scramble away from Chris as he clears his throat loudly.

“Daddy, I can't sleep,” she says faintly, a tiny pout drawn on her lips, and you can see Chris physically melt at her words, at the way she paddles to his chair, and tries her best to climb up his legs. She fails to do so, so he quickly scopes her up his arms until she’s buried in his hold. Her small hands wound up around his neck, and he tenderly pats down her hair, his gaze never wavering from her frame.

“Want me to sing to you, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she whispers, before making grabby hands at you, your heart softens like clay dough as you scoot closer, enclosing her fingers in your hold.

“Sleep well, Sowonnie,” you whisper.

“Can’t you stay with us?” she asks and you feel your blood freeze in your veins, your heart skipping three beats at once.

To stay. What a frightening concept. Even more scary when you realize that you aren’t opposed to it.

You yearn to stay, for the first time in years, you wish you could.

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, before smiling reassuringly. “I'll stay till you fall asleep.”

Conditions, it is the way it has always been for you. staying till you’re no longer useful, staying till you're no longer wanted. Staying, but always with a time limit, always with an expiration date.

iv.

You’re avoiding him.

Chris knows you are, since you no longer come over to his house, claiming that you’re tired, or that you have an important order to bake for the next day. He would have believed you had he not seen you only once in the past three weeks.

Those were excuses, and each one of them weighed heavily on Chris’ heart, on his home too, his studio particularly, the one that got used to the sound of your laugh.

He misses you. He never thought he’d miss someone again, craving you presence as if every breath leaving his body depended on you. He wasn’t a stranger to intimacy, fleeting hookups every now and then. Strangers invited him to their bed, knowing what they were signing up for– one night of pleasure, never to be seen again, their faces blurring into an indistinct mass in his mind, like an impressionist painting where no features stand out. Yet, with you, every detail is etched in his memory.

He could pick you out of a crowded room, recognize the delicate curve of your neck, the fullness of your lips, and the way your nose scrunches when you smile.

He could draw the moles scattered on your body from memory alone, recognize your scent from miles away– your cotton shampoo and the specific laundry detergent you love to use and a hint of vanilla that never truly leaves you.

He’d remember the curve of your lashes and the cascading of your hair, the airy giggles you leave across like a trail for him to follow everywhere, and your eyes– the way they gazed at him, softening slightly around the edges, shining brightly as if crafted from stardust, the way they softened even more when you looked at Sowon, voice growing slightly high pitched as you listened to his daughter’s rambles.

How did you manage to make his home yours without ever living in it?

“Dad?” Sowon calls out and he snaps his head up, locking eyes with his little girl. She’s sitting on a high stool, munching on her pizza, a pensive look on her face.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks, walking over to her side.

“Where is Ynnie?” she asks in a small voice and he freezes, mulling over his response. He settles for the truth.

“I don't know, baby.”

“Does she not want to play with me anymore?” Sowon whispers, and he doesn’t remember his daughter ever being this tentative about voicing a question.

“No!” he's quick to reassure, cradling Sowon’s face between his much larger hands. “Of course not baby she loves you a lot.”

“Okay…” she nods, a small pout drawn on her lips still. Chris senses his heart physically crack in his chest.

“Do you wanna work in the studio with me?” he says in a joyful tone, and she instantly cheers up, the twinkle in her eyes found again. “Yes!”

“Finish your food first, okay Wonnie?”

“Okay!”

In Chris's life, regrets have been scarce, and certainly not in the form of Sowon, his beacon of hope, as he named her. Having her was beholding a sun wherever he went. However, a fear lingers, a whisper in his heart, suggesting that letting you go might be his one true regret.

So when his daughter falls asleep, he knocks on your door once again. He's suddenly transported into that cold night, months ago, where he asked you for flour. Had he known you were behind it he would’ve knocked much sooner.

“Hi,” you greet softly once you open the door. He takes a step forward, his wolf slippers matching with Sowon’s bump into your plain ones. You avert your gaze, finding anything but him to fixate on.

“You're avoiding me,” he says matter-of-factly, voice soft, resigning to you.

“I'm not,” you contradict, even as your eyes remain on the ground. He finds himself missing the color of your irises.

“Look at me, hm?” he implores, and you stay rooted in place. A soft sigh escapes him as he cradles your right cheek with his warm hand, his thumb gently sweeping across your cheekbone. “Yn, please, I want to look at you.”

Maybe it is the pleading tone of his voice or the way his thumb tenderly grazes your skin, but something about Chris makes your resolve unravel, threads of fear unknotting before your eyes. So, you finally look at him. An exhale of relief escapes him.

And then you speak.

“You asked me if I was okay, and I didn't reply, back then,” you say, leaning your head further against his palm as tears well up in your waterline. “Do you still want to know my answer?”

“Of course, always.”

“I'm happy. With you, with sowon. I feel this warmth that I have never known before when I'm with you. It was almost easy to forget I've known you during winter,” you chuckle dryly, “but it is all an illusion, I lie to myself thinking I could stay, I… I can't, I-“

“What if I ask you to stay?” he brings your hand to his heart, where it beats erratically, pulse seeping through your skin.

He’s as scared as you are.

“Chris…”

“What if I told you, Yn, please stay with me,” he breathes out, guiding your hand to gently cup his cheek. “Would you? Would you stay?”

“I'm terrified,” you whisper, as he tilts his head, bestowing a tender kiss on your palm.

“I know, so am I. But, you make me believe that even my bruised parts are worthy of love.”

He wins, before years of skeletons and piled up doubts, he wins.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I'm staying.”

“You are?”

“I am,” you giggle lightly and he staggers back, the sun pouring into his smile.

“Um, wow, okay. Thank you for staying,” his voice sounds airy, happiness floating in his tone, and you find it contagious, imprinting into your own.

“Thank you for asking me to stay.”

“You made it less daunting,” he pats your head, smoothing your hair down. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He giggles in response and you can't help but mirror the sound. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Whaaat? I'm not,” his tone grows high-pitched and you roll your eyes amusedly.

“What happened to connected Chris?”

“He is flustered by the girl he wrote about.”

Your cheeks tint red as he places a hand above your head, caging you in place.

“I think the girl should get paid for being the muse.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, “I'll think about it.” His grin softens, as a content expression washes over his face. You know you must look the same. “Let's talk more tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” you grin, before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Good night, Chris.”

“Good night, yn.”

You quietly watch as he walks to his apartment door, his hand settling on the door knob. He pauses, for a few seconds where the air around you stills, before swiveling around and walking over to you again.

you win.

“I forgot something,” he breathes out, before crashing his lips onto yours, furiously, as if needing to imprint his essence onto you, tainting your soul the way you have tainted him, permanently altering the composition of his being. His lips move on yours as if they've done this before, a dance they have rehearsed countless times, perhaps in all the dreams Chris visited you in. Yet, nothing compares to how it feels to have him touch you, lick your lower lip and drag his hand up your hips, press you against your apartment door, and nibble at your neck.

Nothing could have prepared you for the passion he shows you, for how delicious it feels to be pressed against him, for the storm that your lips conjure, swirling in your heart in vibrant shades of red. Then, for the softness of his lips as they slow down their course, plump and rosy as they meet your own, tenderly, more gently, one kiss after the other. “My hope,” he whispers, as his lips find yours again, “my missing piece.”

He’s hot and cold, in yet seeking no out, finally yours.

bonus (one year later).

“So I brought the eggs, milk, sugar,” Chris enumerates as he takes out the groceries, and you turn to look at Sowon to find her already gazing at you, a mischievous look on her face.

“How much do you wanna bet he forgot flour?” you whisper and she giggles, burying her face in her hands to stifle her laugh.

“And… Wait, where is the flour?” he trails off and you burst out laughing, as you and Sowon high-five each other excitedly.

“Daddy, you are really bad at groceries.”

“Am I?” he smiles sheepishly, fiddling with his earlobe in a manner that still makes your heart melt, renders your insides butterflies speaking of Chris’ name.

“Yes, it’s good Mom bought it,” she says naturally, looking down at her iPad. You and Chris freeze in your tracks, eyes instantly locking with one another, yours and his, glossy with emotion, a loving tide enveloping you both.

It's her first time calling you mom.

You swallow down the lump in your throat, crafted not by thorns but by petals, not by ache but with love, before placing your chin on the small of her shoulder, murmuring softly. "Mm, will you help me bake, baby?"

“Yes! I wanna be a baker when I grow up, just like you.”

“What happened to being a stylist?”

“I can't be both?” she frowns innocently.

“You can be anything you want, princess.” you bop her nose and she giggles, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek.

In the grip of winter, Chris discovers a warmth that defies the season, casting off years of cold from the recesses of his bones. A soft smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, his hopes, his girls, the three of you clad in wolf slippers.

He’ll propose to you tomorrow.

#skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids angst #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids reactions #skz angst #skz fanfic #chan fluff #chan x reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz au

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2hightocare · 3 months

Text

ACQUAINTANCES!

Synopsis: Jungkook and you can only stand each other whenever you guys are fucking, well that’s what you guys thought initially.

Parings: fuckboy!jungkook x fuckgirl!reader

Genre: college au! fwb! e2l!

Warnings: smut!! Open ending, no confession. Rough sex, unprotected sex (pls wrap it) Smut with just a tiny bit of plot if you squint, reader is a squirter (sorry not sorry) daddy/mommy kink, cussing, blowjob, reader crying from pleasure, jk is a dirty talker, banter, a lot of bickering from both of them, cute fluff at the end for Valentine’s Day!

a/n: hai my loves, i disappeared for a while.. I’ve been really busy with school at the moment. But I wrote this short pwp for all of you as a valentines gift before I lag again.. I’m trying to write an actual f1 driver!jk fic right now so sorry if I’m not updating as much…. But anywho enjoy my little gift<3⭐️

“That’s my good girl, fuck." He plunges deeper into you, hitting your spot repeatedly. His hand lays on your head, pushing you down into the mattress, your makeup smudged from sucking his cock, and tears stream down your face.

“Right there, baby, that’s it.” Jungkook pounds into you from behind; your legs are shaking, trying so hard not to give out. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as his cock spreads your walls deliciously. “Agh fuck.” You moan loudly, your mouth hanging open, drool spilling out onto the white sheets.

You reach behind you, pushing him off you. A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he watches your legs shake. Your breaths are heavy, and you are trying so hard to catch your breath. “Take it off.” You whine about the condom; you reach for Jungkook's cock and pull on the clear condom, taking it off.

“Want me to fuck you, raw princess?” Jungkook groans, grabbing the base of his cock, giving your pussy a few slaps with his length, making you clench over nothing. Jungkook uses one of his arms to pick you up and turn you around, your back pressed against the comfortable mattress. “Feels good, huh?” He asks as he slowly rubs your swollen, aching clit with his thumb. Jungkook watches your expression, your eyebrows furrowed, your eyes cloudy, trying so hard to keep them open, his hand reaching to your tear-stained cheeks, squeezing them, making your mouth form a kiss.

“What do you say?” Jungkook asks as you slowly nod your head. You were fucked dumb, and he knew that, which made him chuckle softly. He could tell from how you couldn’t even answer the question or even fight him for it like you usually do.

“Speak up; use your words, baby.” Jungkook smirks, giving your cheeks a light slap before squeezing them again. “Feels so good.” You slur, and you squeeze your legs together to relieve some of the tension your center is feeling. You have come four times now, and Jungkook none.

“Good girl.” Jungkook says before helping you sit up as he leans against the header, his hard laying on his stomach. Jungkook is packed, to say the least; even when he’s soft, you can see his imprint in his underwear.

It scared you at first when he pulled it out because, how the fuck was that going to fit in you? You swear you almost got up and left.

“That’s not going to fit.” You say, your pointer finger pointing at his thick length in his hand. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Jungkook chuckles, and you give him a glare back instead, showing that you are serious. “It’s going to fit; we’ll make it fit, baby.” He grins. "Plus, you can take four fingers; you’ll be fine.” He comes closer to you and says, "It’ll feel so good, I promise.” He whispers into your ear, sending shivers down your back.

You crawl your way to him, stopping between his legs; his eyes bore into yours. “You’re so pretty.” He compliments you, swiping his thumb on your bottom lip. “Fuck off, you just want your dick sucked.” You roll your eyes, grabbing the base of his cock. Your small hand, not even being able to wrap around his cock, always sent Jungkook a sense of pride to his chest.

“Gon’ suck daddy’s cock?” Jungkook moves your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. “If you call yourself daddy one more time, I will bite your dick; don’t try me.” You glare up at him. "Well, isn’t she back? Not even five minutes ago, you were calling me daddy.” Jungkook chuckles at your expression. You looked hot with his cock inches away from your face, slightly twitching, waiting to be sucked.

You and Jungkook had history; to say the least, you both kind of hated each other. If it wasn’t because he said something you didn’t like, it was because he breathed a little too loudly around you.

Just something about his smug face looking at you and throwing snarky comments had you wanting to claw your acrylics into his skin. Which was something Jungkook loved; he loved watching you roll your eyes every time you saw him, and he absolutely loved it when you fought back with him.

You had no clue how you ended up throwing insults at him every five seconds whenever he would show up anywhere; you would say it was because he was a man whore. You heard from every girl on campus how good he fucked but left right after coming, or if they were lucky, he left before they woke up. But honestly, that really doesn’t matter now that you’re in his bed getting your guts rearranged almost every seven days of the week by him.

Jungkook doesn't hate you; he just loves challenging you. Plus, he thought the only way he could find himself talking and being closer to you meant arguing; he would take it. You are well known on campus as well; his friends warned him about you, but you were just his type. So who was he to throw out the possibility of having you in his bed?

You didn’t even know how you ended up becoming friends with benefits—something along the lines of a frat party, an angry make-out session, and sex in someone’s bed. Jungkook fucked you so good; you are hundred percent sure you passed out and saw stars.

What were strictly professional meetings? how you like to call them? Turned into sleepovers, hanging out, cuddling, and calling each other cute nicknames. You guys still fought; it was more like bickering now. What you both weren’t looking for was a catching feeling; it started as having sex whenever one of you was horny, but now you find yourself wanting to be with each other regardless if you guys’ had sex or not.

“Now I don’t want to suck your dick after you called yourself daddy; that’s such an ick.” You scrunch your nose, giving his cock a tug, making him bite his lip with a laugh.

“That’s an ick? Ick when you told me to call you mommy like a month ago.” Jungkook recalls making your eyes widen. “Stop, I was drunk.” You whine, rolling your eyes. “We both said we wouldn’t bring it up, plus I said it as in sugar mommy.” You try to explain yourself as Jungkook smiles down at you.

“Sugar mommy? I pay for everything, so just shut up." Jungkook chuckles, grabbing ahold of his cock, giving it a pump.

You only follow his movements with your eyes as your pussy oozes with your juices, your wetness dripping down your thighs. Jungkook presses his cock to your cheek before slapping it multiple times. “My favorite view—imagine this, but on my lock screen." Jungkook jokes, which makes you glare at him. “In your dreams.” You say.

“It’s definitely in my dreams,” he groans. Jungkook moves his dick to your lips before patting his length on them. “Open.” He orders, which you immediately do, taking his tip into your mouth.

"Agh,” he chokes in a moan as you suck on the swollen tip. You replace his hands with yours pumping in his shaft while you try to take as much as you can down your throat. “Fuck.” Jungkook throws his head back, and you bob your head up and down his cock.

“So big.” You breathe out before returning to bob your head at a fast pace. Drool accumulates in your cheeks, dripping down Jungkook's cock. “Don’t boost my ego more, baby.” Jungkook howls; his tattooed hand gets a hold of your head before pushing it down. You gag on his cock, but Jungkook doesn’t care as he continues to fuck into your mouth. “Aw shit, shit shit.” Jungkook moans with each thrust into your warm mouth.

Tears run down your cheeks as Jungkook uses your mouth. Your hands rest on his hip bones, tapping slightly whenever you need to breathe. “Right there, baby, that’s it.” Jungkook mumbles, his cock twitching in your mouth, meaning he’s close. Before he could come, he pulled your head off of him with a loud pop. Strings of saliva and pre-cum connect your mouth and his cock.

“Fuck!” Jungkook pumps his cock hurriedly, his eyes shut as strings of curse words leave his mouth. “Where do I come? Shit.” Jungkook moans, his abs flexing as his hips lift up with each thrust into his hand. “Tits.” You wipe your mouth, positioning yourself in front of him before he shoots strings of his sticky cum on your round boobs. “Ahh fuck.” Jungkook chokes on another moan, giving his cock one last pump.

His chest heaves as he tries so hard to catch his breath, peeking an eye open and seeing you on your knees with your tits adorned with his cum. You giggle at his state. “I think you just boosted my ego by putting ‘expert at giving head' in my resume.” You joke as his chest rumbles with laughter.

“The head game is strong. Who taught you that?” Jungkook asks, and an inch of jealousy pikes his chest as he thinks about you ever giving a blowjob to someone else that wasn’t him. “Myself, you can do so much with a dildo.” You flutter your eyelashes at him, running your hands down his chest. His cock twitches as he watches you lay back down on the bed, your legs spread open as an invitation.

“Have I told you how good of an idea it was to get this mattress? Yeah, this one is a lot nicer,” Jungkook says as he starts to hover over your much smaller frame. “Whenever we fuck, it doesn’t leave me with back pain,” he moans when he easily slides his cock in you from how wet you are, a sharp moan that leaves your throat.

“It's al- also comfy.” You moan between deep breaths as his cock hits your g-spot. “Yeah, yeah, whatever it’s comfortable to sleep on,” he chuckles as his eyes flutter shut when you clench around him, sending him deeper into you.

“Shit! tightest pussy ever.” His grip tightens on your thighs, which are pushed up by him. “Do you see how pretty your pussy looks being filled with my cock?” He motions to his length, buried deep inside you. The noticeable bulge on your tummy has him wanting to ram inside you without restraint.

He watches as you just hum with your eyes closed, “I said look.” Jungkook's hand gets a hold of your hair, pulling you upward, making you see his cock in you.

“I’m going to get a cramp because of you.” You moan as you watch his cock slowly slide out, making the bulge disappear before reappearing again when he slammed back, making your eyes shut with a scream. “You’ll be fine,” he laughs before slamming into you. The grip on your hair doesn’t loosen as your eyes vision is just his cock sliding in and out of your pussy over and over again.

“Open your eyes; come on, baby.” He gives your hair a little tug, making your eyes shoot open with your mouth wide open. “Fuck! Prettiest view, huh?” Jungkook's hips slam into you repeatedly.

“Ah, cramp,” you moan as he lets go of your hair, making you drop onto the mattress with a shake. His movements didn’t halt as he continued to fuck into you.

Jungkook holds onto your legs before powering into you. Your hands grip onto the sheets as the moans flow out of your mouth uncontrollably. Jungkook spreads your legs open before pressing his palm on your lower belly on his bulge, sending a sense of shock through your body. Jungkook feels your pussy tighten, which only meant one thing, “I’m going to squirt, oh fuck.” You rush out, trying so hard to push him off.

Jungkook found out you were squirted when he fucked you in the bathroom at a Christmas party. Your red skirt lifted up to your ass, and your Santa Claus hat held on for dear life with each thrust he slammed into you. You didn’t expect to leave the bathroom with a drenched shirt; you only laughed at his reaction.

Jungkook pulls out immediately, inserting three of his fingers in you before pounding them in and out of you. Your body spasms with each curl of his fingers inside you, sending spurts of liquid out of you with a scream. Your eye vision went blurry, and as your head went lightheaded from the immense pleasure you were feeling, your hands gripped so tightly on the sheets that they went white.

“Are you breathing?” Jungkook chuckles at your spent body on his bed. He gives your pussy a small slap before kissing your cheek. "Mhm,” you pout, closing your legs, which has him laughing before he stands up and makes his way to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” You peek an eye open, watching him put on his boxers, his dick still hard from your guys previous activities. “I'm getting you a towel and clothes, princess.” Jungkook enters his bathroom, picking up a clean towel before making his way beside you.

“Let me clean you; spread." Jungkook taps on your thigh. You cover your face as he cleans you up. Small moans leave your mouth from the oversensitivity. You felt comfortable letting Jungkook do these things for you; even though they were super intimate, it didn’t feel wrong when Jungkook did it.

“All clean, let me help you put this on.” He motions to your pink panties you left a week ago in his house. Just thinking of Jungkook washing your underwear made your chest ache. "Up,” he says to your arms as he puts his black shirt over you.

“You didn’t come,” you say, looking at his erection. "It doesn’t matter; it’ll go away. Are you craving anything so I can DoorDash?” Jungkook skips over your question. “Wings..?” You pout as Jungkook picks you up and places you on the chair in his room as he changes the wet sheets for a new set.

“Order some; my phone is over there.” He points to his phone on the nightstand. Your heart skipped a beat. Not ever did one of your exes ever let you touch their phones, so for Jungkook to tell you to get his phone like nothing made your heart speed up, even if you both didn’t establish the boyfriend and girlfriend label.

Let’s just say you ended your night with wings in bed and a cute man cuddling with you all night until the morning.

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supercutszns · 4 months

Text

rotten to the touch; luke castellan

series masterlist

wc: 3.2k

pairing: pre-tlt luke castellan x f! reader

synopsis: you’re pretty sure you’re an awful person. you’re pretty sure luke castellan is too. and you’re pretty sure you want to make out with him.

warnings: reader is flawed & not the greatest, luke is ... a little dark🫣, small mention of blood, swearing, lots of making out but no explicit nsfw, a bit toxic, & no more more ‘i can fix him’ or ‘i can make him worse’ it’s ‘he can make ME worse’

notes: this is… sluttier than my usual stuff so it’s not as good but i’m trying, feedback is appreciated! also i wonder what cabin we think this reader would be in, let me know where you’d place her im curious :) maybe i’ll write more of her in the future she’s interesting!! and thank you for 100 followers i am so grateful<3 designated song for this fic is crush by ethel cain

You are a miserable, wicked, asshole of a person, and everybody knows it. Including you.

It’s unclear to you why you turned out this way—every reason to blame never satiates the fury searing your insides. All the campers hate you. The counsellors, too. Even Chiron looks down on the viciousness inside you. You are Camp Half-Blood’s black sheep; a mean, bitter person with no love for the people around you. And it’s not just for show. You know you’re rotten. You know the anger will never go away.

It’s evident in the things you think about other people—the way you pick them apart in your head, toss them aside, because they just don’t see it. This miserable, unforgiving world, with children sleeping on wooden floors because the people who created you think you disposable. Because they can just make more of you. More, more, more, until one of you comes out rotten, born of all the ugliness they have inside them. You are the worst parts of Godly blood. The wrathful parts.

Everyone hates you. Everyone hates a person with an unquenchable anger.

But everyone loves Luke Castellan.

He’s a saint at Camp Half-Blood if there ever was one. Handsome, generous, kind. Goes out of his way to help out the new kids and gives them homes in his cabin. He’s the best swordsman in camp by a mile. Shit, you’d even love Luke Castellan if you didn’t know any better.

But you do, and you don’t, and it’s complicated, okay?

Because there’s something you know about Luke Castellan that nobody else does: he’s miserable and wicked, too.

You see it in his eyes sometimes. The way they look at you at dinner, when you’re picking at your food away from anyone else at your table. Something familiar rises in them, and your stomach twists. His body tenses whenever someone mentions his father, but the smiles he flashes are so charismatic nobody notices. But you do. It’s exciting.

During sword practice, he quips back and forth with the kids and laughs whenever they take a jab at him. He’s light, easy, carefree. But you see how he holds back, the tension in his shoulder, the way the arc of his sword never fully finishes. So you wait until everybody leaves and he’s alone, with the training dummies and the setting sun. And you. Hiding.

He slashes through them and spears through their heads. You see it, the gnashing of his teeth, the sweat curling down his cheeks. There’s something there. A chasm he’s hopeless to fill.

Before you know it, you’re going out of your way to catch him training alone. It’s creepy, you know, and awful, you know, but the more you watch him the more you see a sort of violence scabbed under his skin.

Whenever you see him now, the feeling you get is entirely foreign to you. It’s almost . . . longing.

Wherever she is, you’re pretty sure Aphrodite’s having a cosmic fucking laugh. And you’re sure she’s laughing double tonight.

The Aphrodite cabin is hosting some secret party for the older counsellors. You’re definitely of age to be a counsellor, but you’ve never been made one because that would probably make half the campers drop out. Chiron and Mr. D don’t know what to do with you. You’re sure you’ll be kicked out of camp soon for good.

But you’re here anyways, for a reason you don’t want to admit, and you stay tucked in a corner as the world around you mingles. Luke is on the other side of the room, lovely as always, laughing with a few other counsellors. He brings a drink up to his lips, and you have a startling thought of what it would be like to kiss him. And you’re fucked. You’re so fucked. Because for the first time in your life you want something tangible, something real. You want to hear him and feel him and pry him apart, and a part of you wants him to actually see you, see all the awful things that might make you the same. You feel like a teenage girl with a crush, and it is infuriating.

An Aphrodite girl comes up to you with a foolish smile. “Hey, sorry, you want a drink?”

“Fuck off, you idiot,” you snarl.

You wait for her to leave. She doesn’t. “You know, you don’t have to be so mean all the time,” she says evenly. “If you’re here, you might as well enjoy it. So yes, I want to give you a drink.”

“Have you ever thought that I’m not being mean? Maybe I just am.”

You glare at her. She looks you up and down. “Sure,” she shrugs, walking away. There’s a vivid picture in your mind of her falling through a hole in the cabin floor. It doesn’t soothe you, but at least the fantasy is there.

The night drones on. You’re sick of the smells and the laughs and the heat. And you’re sick of yourself. You can’t believe, underneath all your sourness, you came here to stare at a boy you barely know, and you don’t even know why. He’s fascinating, and you resent him, and he’s also beautiful. But he’s looked back at you all of three times tonight and you’re sick of the way your skin crawls when he does.

Leaving the cabin brings the relief of the cool night air, and the singularity of your body. You are the only one who feels this rage. You are the only one who hates.

To stave off your discomfort you walk around to the back of the cabin, to the crest of the hill facing the water. The stars above twinkle at you in spite. There’s a bitterness in your throat you want to wash down with something worse (maybe you should have taken that drink), but you know it won’t matter. Nothing matters. Those stars and whatever they hide are apparently the only important things in the universe, so why should anyone care about anything?

They stars only get brighter. It’s probably their goal to piss you off. You grunt, “Oh, fuck you,” to them. It’s not enough, never nearly enough to expel the rotten part of you. “Fuck you. Fuck off!” You groan at the sky. Nothing happens. Until:

“I’m guessing you’re not having a fun night.”

You whirl around. It’s hard to see in the dark, but whatever light is left catches a long scar on a cheek. Your stomach knots.

“Yeah, me neither,” Luke Castellan says, hands in his pockets as he meanders towards you.

Even when he’s close enough, you don’t say anything. If you do, you’re afraid it’ll be something ugly. Like I kind of want to make out with you. Are you awful too? I need a lobotomy.

The thoughts almost make you laugh. Been a long time since you’ve been funny.

He nods at the sky. “Those things don’t talk. You do know that, right?” He’s still so captivating, so self-assured, even when there’s no one around but you.

“Gods, you’re the worst,” you scoff. You really mean it, so you can’t look him in the eye.

“Then why have you been staring at me all night?”

It catches you so off-guard that you whip back to face him. He has an eyebrow raised and the itch of a smile that makes you burn with shame. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He shrugs, leaning against the cabin wall. “I’m not stupid. You’ve been brooding in the corner watching me the second you came in.” He cocks his head to the side, adding, “Actually, you stare at me all the time. At meals and stuff. I really hope you don’t think you’re being subtle.”

You huff. “Okay, if we’re really being honest here, you started that! You do it too! All the time!”

His hands shot up like he was being arrested. “Hey, I never said I minded it. A guy’s . . . just gotta wonder. What’s up with you spying on me when I’m training alone, anyways?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You watch me when there’s nobody else around. I’m not blind. It’s weird. If you want tips you can just ask me. Or if you like what you’re looking at, at least be upfront about it.”

You speak before you can take in that last sentence, or the way his smile took pride in itself when he said it, or how embarrassed you should probably feel. “You didn’t answer my question about why you started staring at me first.”

The anger (shame) blinding you made you forget how close you are to him right now. Close enough to touch, but not enough to see. But almost there. Almost.

“People think you’re mean,” Luke says after a moment, his dark eyes probing you. The words curl out of his mouth slowly, like he’s choosing them all with care. “You’re rude. You never listen to anyone. You judge everything. They all think you’re awful.” Again, he looks you over. “I’m not so sure.”

“If I’m awful, then you’re awful,” you spit before he can say anything else.

He just shrugs. “Well, I guess that’s why I’m not sure.”

It’s irritating, his calmness. He has the same anger you do. How come he can just . . . shove it down? You try to unearth any fury in his eyes, but it’s too far back. Simmering. “Jesus,” you mutter, “You’re worse than me.”

He looks genuinely taken aback by this. His scar deepens when his brows wrinkle. “What?”

“You’re a pretender—that’s what you are.” It’s your turn now, to step closer, to make his skin crawl. “Look at you. Everyone loves you. You’re this perfect golden boy and you’re sweet and attentive and whatever the fuck but you know it’s one giant lie. At least I’m honest, but you just sit pretty and act like you don’t have that . . . thing that I have. Resentment. Insanity. Whatever you want to call it. We’re the same, but I’m the only one getting shit for it.”

Now, you are close enough to really see him. The patterns on the wood behind him frame the vision of his ever-shifting face. You realize that this, like most things are to Luke Castellan, is a challenge. You also can’t remember the last time you saw him lose one.

But when you play, you play to win.

“You don’t know that,” he dares.

“Oh, I do. You’re rotten, Castellan,” you sneer, index finger jabbed into his chest. You can feel his heartbeat if you concentrate. “And you’re not owning up to it, so you’re also a coward.”

However scathing you look, it isn’t enough. If anything it only makes Luke’s manner more playful. Nothing feels playful anymore. Everything, inside and outside of your mind, feels like constant, exhausting war. Maybe that’s why you don’t slap his hand off you when it wraps around your wrist, keeping it pressed to the middle of his chest. His heartbeat thrums through you.

He tilts his face towards you, grinning, “Then why do you want to kiss me?”

All right. What the fuck. It feels like you’ve been electrocuted.

“What the—what are you talking about?” You blunder, but he knows, of course he knows, because there’s something between the two of you that has been formed and understood by eye contact alone. He can probably read your mind. As much as you don’t want to admit it, you’d like to read his just as much.

He cocks his head. “I mean, you did call me pretty,” he teases, and it’s almost endearing. “You’re pretty like this too.” His other hand comes up to your face, and you’re surprised you don’t flinch when his thumb gently smooths the crease in your eyebrows. “Don’t call me a coward, heathen. Then we’ll both be embarrassed.”

The nickname makes you want to fight, but the touch makes you dizzy. “You don’t want to kiss me, Luke,” you say with all the control you have, which, right now, is increasingly sparse.

“You’ve gotta stop telling people what they want,” he muses. The hand on your wrist traces further down your forearm. The one on your face snakes around your hips. “One of your more disagreeable qualities.”

His words fan over you. That fire simmering in his eyes has finally come to the surface.

“One of?” You challenge.

“You let me make out with you and I’ll give you a whole list.”

You snort, hoping it hides the shortness in your breath. “What a charmer you are.”

His lips brush yours. “Well, that’s what makes me so rotten, isn’t it?”

There’s hardly time to unravel if that’s a question or a statement because you grab a fistful of his shirt and he kisses you. Your heart detonates. It is not rotten in the slightest.

His body is warm and firm. You smell the cabin wood and the drink on his breath. It all matters, and none of it does. You’re warm everywhere as he wraps both arms around your back, and the way he kisses is, unfortunately, exactly how you thought he would. Your hands are tentative in his hair. So is your mouth on his. But Luke is so deliberate in the way he kisses that you know he’s thought about this, too. It makes you all the warmer.

His hand takes your jaw and tilts it up. You know your neck is shaky with breath, and you’re pretty sure he’s admiring it. You don’t complain when he presses a kiss to your jaw, then another one, like he’s testing the waters. “You’re so nice like this,” he mutters almost to himself, thumb running across your neck. “If only people could see you.”

“Then they’d see how mean you are too, no?” You huff. “You don’t want that.”

Another kiss to your jaw. “Not yet, sweetheart.”

Whatever feeling is harbouring in your body right now, it’s so fulfilling it almost makes you uncomfortable. You want to reject it. You’re not supposed to want things. Worse, you’re not supposed to get things. Luke starts marking a path down your neck and you are so determined to enjoy this that you’d kiss a fucking baby if someone asked you to. You might as well be a saint.

He bites the pulse point on your neck, sure to leave a mark, and a shudder rips through you. You’re pretty sure the bastard starts laughing. You hit his shoulder in retaliation.

“Easy, heathen,” he reprimands in your ear, and you know he’s still smiling.

“Don’t—don’t call me that.” You hate that you start to smile, too, and that your stomach burgeons with butterflies when he pulls back to look at you.

He touches the corner of your upturned mouth, kiss-bitten and red. His expression is boyish. “Hard to when it makes your face do that,” he goads. “I thought it was impossible for you to smile.”

“Be quiet.” You thread a hand through his camp necklace and bring him closer. You can almost taste his mouth on yours, but he sweeps past you at the last minute.

He gently tugs your earlobe with his teeth and whispers, “Yes ma’am.”

Fuck him. Seriously. You might have to.

It’s a tangle of teeth and hands and smiles kept hidden, as you slip your fingertips beneath his shirt and he does the same, and you’re both angry and greedy and incredibly destructive, but it doesn’t matter yet. Now you’re just teenagers fooling around at the back of a party, and it’s the first good thing either of you have had in a long time. Luke leaves you gasping whenever his mouth hits certain places, maybe too many places, and he teases you accordingly. “So sensitive,” he taunts, pressing his knee between your legs so he can see you squirm. You rake your nails through his scalp and he tilts his head back to groan. It shuts him up for a while.

He bites your neck until you say his name. You trace lines on his stomach till he takes your hand in his own. You’ve been hungry for something your whole life, and you finally have something to sink your teeth into. For better or for worse.

After Hades knows how long, laughter floats out from the front of the cabin. Sounds of feet tripping over each other and muffled goodbyes. You pull away from Luke, chests heaving together. His hair is wild, his shirt crumpled, and he looks entirely satisfied with it. Smug little shit. “Party’s letting out,” you mutter.

“What a damn shame.” His hand rubs your jaw, and it’s too tender a gesture so you angle your head away to peek over the side of the cabin. You barely pay attention to the kids straggling back to their bunks.

“Is now the time you tell me all my horrible qualities?” You ask once you’re ready to look at him again.

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Actually, I came up with more since I said that so I’m pretty sure it’ll take more than one night.” He fakes a wince, “Might have to spread it out for a few days.”

You roll your eyes, “Oh, you ass.”

“I’ll give you one for starters.” You feel like a tornado when he kisses the juncture between your jaw and your neck. “Your hands are too cold.” They’re tucked underneath his shirt right now, pressed against his back. You don’t move them. “And,” he adds, “you’re incredibly crass.”

“Thanks, dipshit.”

“Thank you for proving my point, heathen.”

The commotion at the front gets louder, and you know your time to go undiscovered runs short. “You meet me again tomorrow, and I start telling you the rest?” He raises his brows.

The prospect both repulses and excites you, although perhaps they’re hand-in-hand. You tentatively reach up to trace the scar on his face. A faint, jagged line that holds scripture within it. His eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Even though I’m rotten?” You ask, and there’s an echo of mischief in your voice, too.

He’s got a strange expression when he looks at you. “That’s not true.”

He leans down, angles his head to kiss you. It’s slow, but bitter, and he bites down on your lip until you’re pretty sure there’s blood. “Luke,” you murmur, and he kisses you softer. You lean into him like a hapless, lovesick fool.

After you part, he loosens his grip on you. The bumbling campers have gotten louder. He stares at you, and you see the chasm in his eyes again, brimming with fire. Same as yours. You know you’ll see him tomorrow.

He says, “You’re not rotten. You’re right.”

And damn it, you really do believe him.

#perrie’s fics #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo x reader #pjo series #pjo tv show #luke castellan smut #pjo #heroes of olympus #charlie bushnell #i like sexy evil people making out okay.#maybe will make a part 2 to this series because i’m just so fascinated by their weird little dynamic but we’ll see #i kind of hate this but WE MOVE ANYWAYS!!

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