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youvebeenlivingfictional · 1 year

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The Periphery

Pairing: Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Reader

Rating: M

Notes: This accidental behemoth is based on this post and part of the lil fic triptych with The Worst Best Man (Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader) @tropes-and-tales Team Prime (Bob Floyd x Reader)

No physical descriptions, no use of y/n. Also not beta-read. Because it never is.

Length: 11.1K

Warnings: Slowburn (i know, shocker); angst (I know, shocker); fluff; happy ending!!

Summary: You’d met Bradley a few times before the happy couple had announced their nuptials, and you’d always gotten a pretty good vibe from him. He was sweet, he was easy to talk to—and it helped that he was easy on the eyes. In fact, as soon as you’d been told that Bradley Bradshaw was going to be the Best Man, you were well on your way to having a crush on the guy.

“Alright, what have we got, what have we gooooot…” Bradley asked, turning the steering wheel and guiding the Bronco onto the avenue.

“Let’s see,” You looked down your checklist. “Candy and labels for the favor bags?”

“Check.”

“Final payment for the florist.”

“Check.”

“Final payment for the cake.”

“Check.”

“Drop off the…Card-thingies for the seating placement at the venue.”

“Place cards?” Bradley chuckled.

“You knew what I meant. Only thing left is putting the favor bags together and we are set.”

“Hell yeah. Up top.”

You glanced over, smile widening when you spotted Bradley holding his hand up. You gave him a high five, chuckling as he crowed, “Boom! Dream team right here.”

You leaned back in your seat, shifting a little bit. Bradley was certainly the easiest person you’d had to work with over the course of this wedding—bride and groom included. You’d met him a few times before the happy couple had announced their nuptials, and you’d always gotten a pretty good vibe from him. He was sweet, he was easy to talk to—and it helped that he was easy on the eyes. In fact, as soon as you’d been told that Bradley Bradshaw was going to be the Best Man, you were well on your way to having a crush on the guy.

“Oh—Shit,” Bradley muttered.

“What is it?” You frowned.

“No, nothing. I need to grab my tux,” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Just remembered.”

“Oh,” You frowned, glancing back as he drove past the shop. “Do you wanna go now?”

“Uh…You sure?” He asked, raising his brows.

“Yeah! The rest of my day’s clear, I don’t mind.”

“You are a lifesaver,” Bradley swore, pulling his car into a parking spot. You waved him off, setting the checklist on the backseat of the car.

“Hang on,” He warned. You frowned, shaking your head, then smiled as he rounded the front of the car, opening the door for you.

“You’re such a gentleman, Bradshaw,” You teased.

“I try.”

He held the door open for you at the shop, too, and you tried not to get too flustered about it. But Bradley really was a gentleman. He’d shown you that repeatedly over the course of wedding prep, checking in periodically to see if you needed help with anything, or just to chat.

He gave his name at the desk, nodding and offering his thanks as the attendant left to get his suit.

“You get your dress yet?” He asked.

“Yep. Picked it up earlier in the week.”

“You are on it. I don’t know how you do it.”

You shrugged, trying to ignore the bubble of flattery rising in your gut. “This isn’t my first wedding.”

“How many times have you been a Maid of Honor?”

“This is the…fourth time?”

“Holy hell.”

“I kinda like it,” You chuckled. “It was stressful the first time but the fourth time around, it’s sort of old hat, you know.”

“Bradshaw?” The attendant called out, waving the two of you deeper into the shop. “If you’ll follow me? We just want to make sure the alterations are all set before we send it out with you.”

You trailed after him, tucking your hands into your pockets, and grinning as he gave you a little wink before ducking into the changing room. You sat down in one of the chairs nearby, scrolling through your phone and shooting a text to Katie, the bride. You frowned as your phone began to ring, and you tapped on Katie’s name, taking the call and raising it to your ear.

“Hey, lady. How are you doing?” You asked.

“I’m okay. Are you guys done, have you gotten everything?”

You tried not to groan at the panicked edge in her voice.

“We have the stuff for the favor bags, we dropped the checks off.”

“Are you putting the bags together today?”

“Not today, but they will be done,” You leaned into the word to stave off her argument, “Before the end of the week, and dropped off to the venue on Friday.”

“Promise?”

“You have my word. Take a deep breath.”

“That Katie?” Bradley called out from behind the curtain.

“Yeah!”

“Tell her we’ll get it done!”

“I did!” You laughed before adding, “Bradley says we’ll get it done, too. ‘Kay?”

“Fine,” She sighed before belatedly tacking on, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will. Thanks, hon.”

“Anytime. Bye.” You lowered your phone, looking down as you heard the curtain being pushed aside. You glanced up, doing a double-take at the sight of him. Your stomach flooded with butterflies at the sight. You bit your lip, gaze sweeping him from head to toe. You’d been to fittings with a few groomsmen in your day, but Bradley looked damn good. The suit fit him like a glove. You stood from where you’d settled down, tucking your phone away and stepping closer, folding your arms across your chest to fight off the urge to reach out and touch. Luckily for you, he hadn’t caught sight of your blatant interest as you hovered in his periphery. He was too busy double-checking his buttons.

“…It fits well,” You offered.

“Yeah?” He asked, glancing back at you. You couldn’t help the way your smile widened as you nodded, allowing yourself to move a couple of steps closer.

“Yeah. Do you like it?”

“Wearing a suit feels a little weird,” He chuckled, turning to look at himself in the mirror. “But I guess it’s good practice.”

“Good practice?” You repeated, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“I’m getting married next year. Actually, all of this has been good practice. You’ve been a lot more helpful than you know.”

Your smile stayed frozen in place as your neck went hot, your blood roaring in your ears. It made sense. It made so much sense, and it had no right to hurt, to twist your insides up. You nodded, and dropped your gaze to his left hand, like you could spot where the ring would sit; you wondered what kind, what metal. Engraved? Plain? Gold? Silver? Bradley struck you as the type to have a plain outer band, and an engraving inside—some secret message, or initials, or the date that they met—the date of their wedding anniversary so that he’d never forget, but Bradley wasn’t the type to forget—

“You’re sure it looks alright?”

His question jolted you, made your smile twitch a touch wider out of panic, your eyes bright, attentive, and flickering to his face. Even with your newfound knowledge, your upset, your crushing disappointment—you couldn’t help the softening of your expression at his blatant nerves.

“Yes,” You nodded. “I’m sure.”

–

It was ridiculous, right?

It was ridiculous that it formed a knot in your chest. It was ridiculous that you were so rocked by the revelation that you couldn’t sleep. You needed to do something to get your mind off of what you’d learned; off of the sight of Bradley in that tux, bright and hopeful.

He’d told you all about his fiancé on the drive back to your place. That was sort of your fault. You had asked—but it had seemed rude not to, once you knew that there was someone in the picture. Bradley had told you all about Liz: how they met (she was a friend of his WSO’s), how long they’d been together (six months), how the proposal had gone (she’d been the one to plan it—from the ring, to where he proposed, to the photographer who photographed the occasion, to the party of friends and family that they went to afterward), how the wedding planning was going.

“It’s been a bit of whirlwind, planning-wise…Actually, the whole relationship has been,” He’d shrugged. “And our schedules are nuts. We kinda keep moving the goalposts.”

“On what?”

“…Well, when it’s gonna be, for one.”

His laughing admission had planted a little seed of hope in the nest of dismayed vipers making a home in your belly, but you wouldn’t allow it to take root. It was to be expected. Like he said, their schedules were nuts. But still…

When it’s gonna be.

It rose to the top of mind now and again as you worked on the favors through the night, putting custom labels on the bottles of wine, making sure each bag had a corkscrew, and tying a strip of white ribbon around the neck of the bottle.

When it’s gonna be.

Couldn’t they just elope, if they were so worried about that? Have a proper wedding later, when things were more settled, if it was causing them so much stress? You hadn’t brought that up, of course. It wasn’t any of your business.

When it’s gonna be.

You set the final bottle in the final bag, then dropped the corkscrew inside. You’d already put on the label, and the ribbon. You sighed heavily, looking around your living room. It was crowded with nearly two hundred completed favor bags. How the hell were you going to get them down to your car? Could you even fit all of these in your car? You groaned, leaning back against the couch and scrubbing your hands over your tired eyes.

Maybe you hadn’t only done the favors to keep your mind off of Bradley. Maybe you’d done it to avoid him, too, just a little. Getting them all done yourself meant that you didn’t have to spend an extra couple of hours with him. Sure, it would’ve gone faster with two, but if you wanted this crush to end with the wedding, you needed to start distancing yourself.

It wasn’t the kindest way to deal with the circumstances—and maybe your feelings would ebb, now that you knew there was absolutely no chance of acting on them.

Still, whatever happened, you’d gotten the favors done before the end of the week, as you’d promised Katie.

–

“When should I come by? I can bring pizza or something, we’ll get those favors knocked out before the party.”

It was a sweet offer, because Bradley was a sweet guy. You planted your elbow on your desk, plaintively eyeing your work email before looking around to see if any of your coworkers were listening in.

“Actually, I took care of them,” You admitted. There was a pause on the other end of the phone, and you bit your lip, waiting for his answer.

“You—…All of them?” He finally asked.

“Mhm!” You forced the tone of your hum to be bright and chipper.

“That’s, like…That’s like two hundred bags.”

“One hundred and ninety-seven, but. Close!”

“I could’a helped you.”

You thought that he sounded disappointed, but surely you were reading into it.

“No, I know! I know. I got them done, it was no problem. I had time.”

There was another pause on the other end of the phone, and you found yourself wondering if he was distracted with whatever he was doing on the other end of the line.

“…How long did it take?” He asked.

“A bit? I don’t know. I didn’t time it. It was fine, I was awake.”

“You did them last night?”

“Yes! When else?” You laughed nervously. “Look, it’s seriously fine. They’re all set.”

“Are you alright?”

You sagged back in your office chair.

“Yeah,” You fibbed.

Another harrowing pause. Then—

“Alright.”

It sounded like a tired concession. You forced yourself to draw in a deep breath, trying to lift the anxious weight moving to settle in your chest.

“I’ll need help bringing them to the venue,” You added.

“I can do that.”

You knew he could; you hadn’t doubted his willingness to help at any turn. You tipped your head into your hand, nodding a little bit.

“Sounds good, thank you.”

“You looking forward to the party tonight?”

No, you really weren’t. In your experience, joint bachelor/bachelorette parties were either hellishly boring, or nothing but trouble.

“Yeah!” You chirped. “It’s gonna be fun!”

–

Dinner had been nice. The first couple of rounds of drinks had also been nice. Moving to a club had felt like a bad idea, but there you were nonetheless, crammed between the bar and Bradley. You were trying to focus on anything but the feeling of his body behind yours and the scent of his cologne as you waited for your drinks. This was bad. This was sort of torture. You peered around your shoulder as you heard Katie shriek in excitement, and smiling as her fiance, Cory, leaned in to give her a kiss.

“They’re sweet.”

Bradley had to get close to say it—to speak it into your ear, over the sound of the music. He rested his hand on your hip, as if he had to hold and keep your attention, as if you wouldn’t know that he was talking to you. You managed a nod, your fingers flexing against the bar. You lowered your head, stomach twisting as the bartender pushed your drinks toward you. You reached out, passing Bradley’s drink back to him before you took hold of your own.

Bradley gave your hip a squeeze, steering you back toward the group. Oh—god. You closed your eyes tightly for a second before you turned to face Bradley. You pressed your drink toward his hand, forcing him to let go of you and take hold of it, and leaned in so that he could hear you.

“I’m going to get some air! I’ll be right back.”

You turned, squeezing through fellow clubbers before he could ask or argue. You gave the bouncer a murmur of, “Excuse me,” As you slid past him. You puffed softly as the sounds of the club dropped away. The air outside was warm; the breeze pushing over you almost smelled sweet compared to the stench of sweat and booze waiting for you back inside.

Ugh, god. You didn’t want to go back inside, but you knew you couldn’t get away with going home. Most of your stuff was inside, anyway—your phone, your wallet, your bag.

“Do you have a light?”

You glanced up at the question, giving the man asking a small shake of your head.

“No, sorry.”

“Eh. I’ll find one.” The man reached into his pocket, tapping out two cigarettes. “Want one?”

“I’m good, but thank you.”

He grunted, pushing the other one back into the pack before drawing one out and tucking it between his lips. He wandered away, and you leaned back against the outside of the club.

Maybe you could slide into the booth, grab your things, say goodbye to Katie and Cory, and just dip without him noticing—

“Sure you don’t want one?”

You looked up, nerves twisting as the man leaned close against the wall beside you. You shook your head, straightening up.

“Honestly, I’m fine,” You insisted, heading for the door.

“Hey, c’mon. You could at least keep me company,” The man argued, taking hold of your wrist and tugging you back toward him. Panic trickled through your veins as you tried to yank your wrist back, hissing, “Let go of me—”

“Hey!”

You hardly caught sight of Bradley before he was shoving the man harshly against the wall.

“The fuck, dude!” The smoker spluttered, dropping your wrist as he gave Bradley’s chest a shove in return.

“She said let go, asshole,” Bradley seethed, knocking the man’s hands away. Oh, fuck. You glanced nervously toward the bouncer and the people waiting on line as they took notice of the trouble brewing. Bradley could not get into shit on the weekend of the wedding—Katie would kill you both.

“He did, he let go! He let go,” You insisted, resting your hand on Bradley’s chest. When it didn’t nudge him back, you took hold of his hand, tugging him back with all your might and hardly budging him. “Let’s go!” You gave his arm another pull, pleading, “Bradley, please.”

It took another harrowing moment of contentious staring between the two before Bradley drew away, his tight, sharp gaze still set on the other man. You gripped his hand more tightly, raising your other hand to press against his shoulder.

“Let’s go back inside,” You urged. “Come on.”

It took another couple of pulls before Bradley acquiesced, trailing you back toward the bouncer. He hesitated at the door, eyes still set on the man before he allowed you to pull him in.

“Are you alright?” Were the first words out of his mouth.

“Are you crazy?” Were yours as you ripped your hand away from his. “What the hell were you thinking!”

Bradley looked stricken, brow knitting together.

“The hell did you expect me to do? He was all over you!”

“Why did you even follow me outside?”

“You practically ran out here, I thought something was wrong—and then I got out there and it was worse than I thought.”

You sighed heavily, turning away and shaking your head.

“Let’s just…Can we go back to the others?” You mumbled, turning from him. You heard him fall into step a couple of paces behind you, seeming to keep a measured distance as you made your way back to the rest of the wedding party. Once there, you embedded yourself deep into the corner with the bride and the other bridesmaids, forcing your smile wide and avoiding Bradley for the rest of the night.

–

It had been terrifying, having someone grab you—but the speed with which Bradley had come to your rescue was…Sort of hot? Sure, you could’ve gotten out of it yourself, but he hadn’t even hesitated. He’d gotten right up in that guy’s face—for you. You were certain that he would’ve done it for any of the other bridesmaids…Though you weren’t sure if he would’ve followed them outside…

No, he would’ve. Surely he would’ve. He was a good guy, it seemed like something he would do—

“Hey.”

He was nice, and sweet, and…Really, really attractive, god. The look on his face, the cords of his neck straining as he’d shoved the man, as he’d hissed, She said let go, asshole—

“Hey!”

You jumped at the feeling of Katie flicking the side of your head. The backseat of the uber was a tight squeeze with you, Karie, and Cory. You turned from looking out through the car window, smiling when you saw her watching you. Cozied into Cory’s side, she was peering at you with hazy blue eyes; her copper hair seemed dull under the glow of passing streetlights; her bride sash hung limply around her middle.

“What?” You chuckled.

“What’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re being all…” She waved a finger at you. “You’re being weird. What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“I heard Bradley tell Cory that someone grabbed you.”

Your face burned with embarrassment, but you forced your expression to a neutral set.

“It was some drunk guy outside of the club,” You excused. “No big deal, you know. Nothing I’ve never dealt with.”

“You were all weird when you came back, too. All quiet.”

“It was loud in there, and I didn’t have much to say. I was vibing.”

Katie’s eyes narrowed slightly, and you could feel her winding up for a question before she was distracted by the sound of Cory snoring behind her. You grinned as she shifted beside him, elbowing in the side with a hiss of, “Babe! Don’t snore, you’re gonna kill my uber rating!”

–

Loading the favor bags into Bradley’s Bronco was done in awkward silence. Neither of you said much, apart from, “Here,” and, “Thanks,” and, “I can grab that one.” Despite how carefully they were cushioned as you put them into the car, you found yourself looking into the backseat every few moments as you heard the bottles rattling from some bump in the road. You glanced at Bradley as you turned to look through the windshield again. You weren’t hungover, but you did have a growing headache.

“…Sorry I got snippy last night.”

It sort of pained you to say it, but you’d been repeating it in your head for the last two hours. You had to work your way up to saying it. You’d played with the phrasing, the tone, the pace, and it still felt stupid as it came out of your mouth. Before Bradley could say anything, you added, “I know you were just trying to help and I shouldn’t have freaked out at you like that.”

Bradley still didn’t respond, and it took everything in your power to not turn and look at him, to see if he was even listening, or if he was rolling his eyes. But after a moment, he offered, “S’alright. I may’ve overreacted a little.”

“…I thought you were gonna slug the guy.” You were trying to tease him, but Bradley didn’t even miss a beat:

“I thought I was, too.”

You turned to look at him then, stunned. Bradley kept his focus on the road, his jaw clenched, his gaze unreadable behind his sunglasses. You swallowed thickly, looking into the backseat again as the bottles rattled.

“Would you stop fussin’ over those?” He groaned. “They’re fine.”

“They better be. We don’t have any extras if they break.”

“Want me to slow the car to fifteen miles an hour?”

You could see him starting to smile in your periphery. Your stupid, crush-blind giddiness welled, feeling the tension in the car begin to break down.

“No…” You twisted back around in your seat, slumping petulantly. “Twenty will be fine.”

Bradley turned to look at you as the car came to a stop at a red light, gazing at you over the top of his sunglasses.

“Twenty-three, final offer.”

“Sold.”

Bradley’s smile made your stomach flip, and you both turned to look through the windshield again as the light turned green.

–

The wedding was perfect. The reception was painful.

Liz seemed lovely, and for as kind as you were trying to be, your attempts were made even more difficult by your wealth of feeling for Bradley, and the adoring way that he curled his arm around her shoulders, pressed a kiss to her cheek, her lips, her temple; the way he offered to get her a drink, or something to eat; the way his hand slid automatically to her hip, or her lower back; the way he hung on her every word.

You didn’t belabor it. When you spotted the two of them dancing together, her body cradled safely against his, you furiously pushed away your feelings of inadequacy and upset away in favor of looking at Katie and Cory. You relaxed at the sight of them—at the love in their eyes, the sureness there.

It reminded you that loving someone wasn’t supposed to hurt. So whatever it was that you felt for Bradley could be left behind, in that room. You needed it to be.

–

“You missed the bouquet toss.”

The sound of his voice made you shiver a little. Aw, hell. You’d only just managed to center yourself. Looking out over the moonlit ocean had calmed you, somewhat. But maybe whatever feelings you had for Bradley could be left…On the venue’s patio? But you glanced back, leaning against the railing and eyeing Bradley as he came closer.

“I’m alright with that. The last time I was in the middle of one of those, I almost got socked in the face.”

“Yeesh,” Bradley muttered.

“Yeah, bouquet tosses are no joke.”

He rested his arms against the wide railing beside you, looking out over the water. The two of you stood in calm silence for a while.

“So when’s your next Maid of Honor gig?”

You smiled, shaking your head. “Hopefully not for a while. I think I need a break from the wedding circuit.”

“You say circuit or circus?”

“Bit of column A, bit of column B.”

Bradley chuckled.

“Well, whenever it is, if you need a hand, you let me know.”

“Even if you’re not involved in the wedding?”

“Sure. This was honestly kinda fun. And it’s ‘cause I did it with you.”

The butterflies in your chest whirled restlessly as you felt Bradley look at you. You forced yourself to laugh, shaking your head.

“I wouldn’t foist wedding duties on you if you weren’t part of the wedding, Bradley. That would be mean. I appreciate the offer, though.”

“…Could I pick your brain about wedding stuff, sometime?” He hedged. “You know, as Liz and I get closer to ours?”

You could say no. You could remind him of what you said, of the fact that you were getting off of the wedding circuit once this wedding was up. You could stick to your conviction that as the necessity for your proximity passed, you’d keep your distance from him—

“Of course you can,” You nodded, turning to look at him. His sweet smile and the full weight of his gaze and focus were enough to crack you in two.

“Dream team?” He asked, holding his hand up for a high five. You nodded, giving him a quick high five before you curled your arms around yourself.

“Dream team.”

–

It had been a mistake to reopen the lines of communication. You’d made the decision while tipsy, sending him an innocent, innocuous message. You hadn’t even expected a response—but he’d gotten back to you within minutes. You could’ve cut the communication dead there, but you’d found yourself grappling for connection, for the feeling of being wanted. You knew you’d get it from your ex, for better or for worse, and you needed something to drown the rotting buds of affection that you still felt blooming for Bradley.

You hadn’t seen Bradley since the wedding, but the two of you had kept in touch. When he’d started calling you, most of the conversation had been around his wedding prep, but it hadn’t stayed that way. The two of you always managed to get off-topic—to ask and talk about one another’s lives, your days, your work. After the first couple of months, he seemed to drop the wedding chat entirely, just calling to talk. When you did try to steer it back in that direction—to a venue, or a time of year, or flowers—he managed to talk his way out of it. And you could’ve pried, but you let him avoid the topic. You were happy not to hear about Liz. Whenever your phone buzzed and his name appeared, your heart made a sharp leap from your chest to your throat. You craved the sound of his voice, missed the sight of his smile, reveled in his teasing and laughter.

So sure, starting a conversation with your ex, Ryan, had been sort of stupid. But it felt smarter than allowing your crush for an engaged man to completely cloud your judgement.

–

“Are you going to Cory and Katie’s for brunch this weekend?”

“Is that this weekend?” You groaned, tipping your head back. “Fuck, I forgot.”

“I thought you would’ve been on top of that! You were so on top of things for the wedding.”

“Well, that was different. That was way more involved.”

“Hey, brunch can be pretty damn involved.”

“You speaking from experience, Bradshaw?”

“I have faced some terrifying situations, but the worst of which was a bottomless brunch when they ran out of prosecco.”

You rolled your eyes, shifting in your office chair and stifling a snort.

“You’re such a weirdo.”

“So am I gonna see you?”

Am I gonna see you.

Not are we going to see you—because presumably Liz would be there, too. A few months ago, Bradley had mentioned wanting to bring her more into the fold, into his group of friends. Most of his friends knew Cory and Katie; most of them would probably be at brunch.

“Uh…” You eyed your calendar. “Maybe?”

“You too busy for me now?”

“For you?” You scoffed a laugh. “This isn’t your brunch, mister.”

“No, I know. That’s not what I mean, it just…”

Bradley trailed off on the other end of the phone, and you frowned, shaking your head.

“‘It just’, what?”

“It’s been a while since the wedding. It’d be nice to see you.”

“It’d be nice to see you, too.” The admission felt dangerous, but it was too late to draw back in—and it was mutual. You wouldn’t have dared say it to him if he hadn’t said it first.

“So come by,” He urged. “At least for a bit.”

–

For a bit. You could make it a short stop.

“We’ll be fast,” You swore. “Like, a hello and a bellini and then we are out of there.”

“Why are we going if you don’t even want to stay long?”

It was a valid question, but it made you bristle a bit. It was clear that Ryan wasn’t excited to go. Well, he’d never gotten along with your friends, anyway. He’d had a feeling that they didn’t like him—and he had been right. You hadn’t told anyone that the two of you were seeing one another again, and maybe it was unfair to ambush them like this, but you didn’t think you could be around Bradley and Liz—around their cooing and teasing and sweetness—without something or someone to distract you from the reality of the situation.

“You want me to drop you off somewhere?” You asked. “I can. I can drop you off and pick you up when I’m done.”

“I’m only meant—”

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to go.”

“I never said I didn’t wanna go.”

“You’re acting like it.”

“You’re the one saying we don’t have to say long!” He scoffed. “Can we park and get in there?”

You puffed your cheeks out and pushed out a breath, shaking your head a little bit. This was a bad idea. Maybe you should turn around and head home—

But your heart leapt at the sight of Bradley’s Bronco parked a few cars back from Katie and Cory’s, and you knew you wouldn’t turn around.

Quick in, quick out. One bellini, maybe half of a bagel, a warning that you had other plans and couldn’t stick around long. Ask Katie how the honeymoon was, tell Cory to call you when they needed to plan the baby shower, maybe high five Bradley, and then you’d dip.

“We always hang out with my friends,” Ryan grumbled as you parked.

“Why is that even something you’d complain about?”

“Because you hide me from yours.”

You put the car in park, stomach churning guiltily as you met his eye.

“You don’t like my friends,” You reminded him.

“I’m willing to try, but they need to be, too.”

“…Okay,” You nodded. “I’ll talk to them about it. Not now, but like. I’ll talk to them about it.”

“Thank you.”

You sighed softly, reaching out and taking his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Ryan tipped his head back against the rest, slightly mussing his ash blond hair. “I don’t get why you’re so freaked about this brunch thing. It’s, like. Supposed to be chill, right?”

“It is. It is, it’s gonna be a lot of people, their apartment is pretty small. You know how I get when it’s loud and crowded, and…Overloads me.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, glancing toward the building.

“Let’s get you in and out, then,” He offered. “And then we can get me in and out.” He waggled his brows, and you huffed, drawing your hand out of his and getting out of the car.

Ryan took hold of your hand again once the two of you were on the sidewalk, trailing you as you led him to the door of the apartment building. You could hear music and chatter coming from Katie and Cory’s. You drew in a deep breath before you raised your hand, knocking on the door. It was a moment before it opened, and as soon as it did, your heart stuttered in your chest.

Your attraction to Bradley had never faded like it was supposed to. You had worked at it. You’d reminded yourself of the pros and cons, beaten yourself over the head with the fact that he was with someone, in a committed relationship. You had pushed yourself back into Ryan’s arms because, for a time, you had felt wanted by him. Things had never been perfect between you. You butted heads, and you tended to not want to budge on your arguments. You were quick to anger with one another, with each little nitpick reopening the old wounds. Your relationship had been on-again off-again for a couple of years, with each period of on-again falling into the same patterns that had led to the two of you splitting up in the first place.

This latest stint with Ryan had only been exacerbated by your frequent conversations with and interest in another man. Every conversation, every touch, hold, kiss, conversation, had been haunted with the idea of Bradley lingering in your periphery.

“Hey!” Bradley grinned. He reached out, drawing you in without a second’s thought or hesitation.

You leaned into him, curling your arm around his middle and patting his back. You held for as long as was appropriate, and not nearly as long as you’d like; the scent of him threatened to draw you back in. You would’ve embraced him fully if Ryan wasn’t still holding your other hand.

“I can’t believe you made it—Katie literally just told me there was no way you were showing up,” He added, leaning back to get a better look at you.

“Yeah, well,” You smiled weakly. “We can’t stay too long, but we wanted to drop in and see everyone.”

Your repeated use of we seemed to jolt Bradley. His gaze dropped to your other hand, then swept up Ryan’s arm to take in his face.

“Bradley, this is Ryan,” You added, stepping back to allow Ryan to come into the apartment fully. “Ryan, Bradley. Bradley was the Best Man at Katie and Cory’s wedding.”

“Aw, yeah, I’ve seen pictures from the day-of,” Ryan held his hand out, giving Bradley’s a shake. “Nice to meet you, man.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Bradley nodded.

“Where’s Liz!” You tacked on, glancing around. A look that you didn’t recognize flashed across Bradley’s face, but it was gone in a blink.

“Ah, she, uh…She couldn’t make it.”

“Aw, I’m sorry,” You frowned—and you tried to mean it.

“It’s alright. Come on, come in,” Bradley added, waving you inside. “Sorry, I shouldn’t stall you guys in the doorway.”

“It’s okay,” You laughed, looking around before glancing back at Ryan. “Let’s see if we can go find the newlyweds.” You glanced up at Bradley, patting his shoulder lightly. “I’ll see you around.”

It felt wrong to say—it felt worse when you saw Bradley’s expression falter a touch. But you were already turning away from him and heading for a group of a few of your friends. You saw the flash of their horror and confusion before they pushed smiles onto their faces, squealing, “Hey!” as a group.

“Hi!” You smiled back, giving Ryan’s hand a reassuring squeeze. You leaned into each of them, kissing their cheeks before leaning back. Katie hardly leaned into you; her gaze was still set on your ex.

“Y’all remember Ryan,” You asked, waving back toward him. It garnered nods and murmurs of agreement.

“Nice to see you,” He offered before he leaned in a little. “I’m going to go grab a drink. You want one?”

“Sure,” You nodded, “Thanks.”

Before you could blink, Ryan ducked in, pressing his lips to yours in a quick, warm kiss. He didn’t overdo it, or make it pointedly salacious for the sake of your friends, like he may have in the past. Now, he gave your lower back a pat and turned, heading away from you, and leaving your little group in a pointed silence. You didn’t meet any of their eyes. You stared at Katie’s glass and warned them:

“I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

It forced them off of the topic, and onto a new subject: Katie and Cory’s honeymoon in Ibiza. You found yourself half-listening; the other ear was unwittingly searching out the sound of Bradley’s voice in your periphery. You caught on it now and again for a syllable or two, and your head would twitch in his direction. It was impossible for you not to. As badly as you wanted to go to him—to soak up his smiles and his warm, kind eyes—you rooted yourself with your friends, averting your gaze from their nervous and judgemental glances.

But when the conversation shifted again—when your ear caught on Ella’s comment of, “—A shame about Bradley and Liz, isn’t it?” Your head snapped to them.

“I know,” Katie sighed, shaking her head, “He’s such a good guy.”

“What happened?” You frowned, shaking your head. The others glanced around conspiratorially before they leaned in a little more.

“Apparently,” Katie leaned into it, “He and Liz, like…Imploded. She said it was taking them too long to get the wedding together, he said that it would take as long as they needed—”

“Neither of them would budge,” Ella shrugged. “Apparently she eloped with some guy she met, like, the week after they split.”

“Oh, my god,” You breathed. The news twisted you all up; you didn’t know how it was possible that someone could do that to Bradley.

“Honestly, I don’t think she really even wanted to be married to him,” Cassie offered. “I think she just wanted to be married.”

You found yourself twisting around to try and catch sight of Bradley then—like you could see some visible sign of the change, the distress; like the ring you’d come to imagine sitting on his finger had disappeared.

And then Ryan rested a hand on your lower back and pressed a bellini into your hand, and it was like a bucket of ice water had been tipped over your head.

Bradley hadn’t said a thing to you. You had been asking about Liz for months. You had questioned their plans: their honeymoon arrangements, their colors, their venue options; you’d offered to get him in touch with coordinators, with florists, and DJs and caterers and bakers and goddamnit, why hadn’t he told you?

Why hadn’t he at least feigned that the wedding was on hold? That they were regrouping, or restrategizing, or asked you to change the topic, or to just shut the hell up about it? Had he not wanted you to know? Was it a matter of his loss, his pride?

Finally catching sight of him across the room, you found him with a gaggle of guys. He had a glass in his hand, and a smile on his face as he laughed—the kind that made his eyes crinkle, and his chin tip up with the force of it. You saw his head turn toward you a touch, and you hurriedly averted your gaze, raising your glass to your lips and taking a deep draw from your glass. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. The alcohol seemed to burn and bubble as it dropped into your belly.

“Hon, are you okay?” Ella asked, frowning at you. “You’re looking a little green around the gills.”

“Uh…No, you know what, I actually, um,” You cleared your throat. “I’m not feeling well. I think we should get going, actually, we’ve got some other things that we need to, um…” You cleared your throat, glancing back toward Ryan. He looked as confused as your friends. Maybe he figured the two of you would stay for more than five minutes. You were a flurry of apology as you pecked their cheeks, grabbing Ryan’s hand and half-dragging him out of the apartment.

“They say something about me?” He asked tiredly as the two of you left.

“No,” You shook your head, climbing into the car. “No, it really—I really do feel like shit right now.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest; the blood was roaring in your ears; your head was spinning. You stuck the key into the ignition before you leaned back to put your seatbelt on, drawing in a deep breath as you tried to calm yourself down.

“If you feel so shitty, you probably shouldn’t be driving,” Ryan grumbled.

“I can handle it.”

“You could’ve at least waited for me to get something to eat—”

“Oh my god,” You groaned. “Maybe you should’ve grabbed a bagel while you were already in the kitchen, then.”

“You said you wanted a drink.”

“You offered to get me one!”

You turned to the car, turning the key in the ignition before glancing at Ryan, doing a double take and waving at his chest.

“…What?” He asked.

“Would you put your fricking seatbelt on, please?”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously!” You insisted. “God forbid something happen, I don’t want you flying through the fucking windshield—”

“You know what?” Ryan reached out, opening the door. “I’m gonna walk.”

“You’re gonna walk?” You scoffed. “You’re really gonna fucking—”

You winced as he slammed the door shut. You shook your head, glancing into the rear view. Fucking fine. If he wanted to walk, he could fucking walk. You glanced to the side mirrors and checked your blindspot before flooring it out of the spot and peeling down the block. You glanced down as you heard your phone buzz, certain you would have a text from Ryan, asking you to pick him up at the corner.

Instead, you spotted Bradley’s name. You found yourself pitching your phone into the passenger side footwell on instinct as you turned back to the road.

He hadn’t even thought about pulling you in when he saw you. He’d drawn you into his arms, completely disregarding Ryan—so much so that he seemed surprised when you pointed Ryan out. He’d acted like you were the only person there.

You pressed your elbow against the door, resting your head on your head.

Six months. You had been asking Bradley (or trying to ask Bradley) about the wedding for the last six months. He had played along. You felt stupid, embarrassed.

And goddamnit, you felt hopeful.

–

When you finally got home and retrieved your phone from the car footwell, you had three texts and five missed calls.

Three of the missed calls were from Ryan, as well as one of the texts—a request to sit down and hash out whatever the hell happened at the party. Another was from Katie (Bitch, you got a lot of explaining to do with a gif of Ricky Ricardo waggling his finger). You saw the missed calls and texts from Bradley last:

BB (#DreamTeam)

Sorry I missed you on your way out

As if it was his fault.

Well, then again, it sort of was.

You eyed the last time he called; it had been a few minutes ago. You huffed softly, considering your options. You shot a text over to Ryan agreeing to meet first. You knew that delaying your response in favor of calling Bradley would send your guilt through the roof. Then, you hesitantly tapped on Bradley’s name, putting the phone on speaker. You glanced around, sighing and leaning back in the driver’s seat as the ringtone brrrr’d in the absence of his response. It was one ring away from going voicemail when you heard him pick up.

“Hello?” He answered.

“Hey. Sorry, I was driving, I didn’t, uh—I didn’t see that you called.”

“That’s okay.”

You nodded a little before you paused, brows raising a touch.

“So what’s up?” You finally pressed.

“Seemed like you left in a hurry. I turned around and you were just gone.”

“Something came up.”

“Katie said you weren’t feeling well.”

Snitch.

“I wasn’t.”

“Feeling better now?” Bradley pried, and before you could even think of your answer, “Wanna go grab a drink, or…Dinner, something?”

You tipped your head back against the rest, closing your eyes. No. No. That was an awful idea. You needed to get together with Ryan as soon as possible, to get your shit together, to work out whatever you needed to work out—

–

“You been here before?” You asked.

“Uh—”

“Hey, Rooster!”

Your brows raised as he raised a hand, waving at a woman not too far off. He turned a bashful smile toward you as he lowered his hand, folding his arms on the bar.

“It’s near the base, so it’s pretty popular with people in the service.”

“It’s nice in here,” You nodded, looking around.

“Nicer than Katie’s?”

He didn’t bother trying to be subtle, leaning into the question. You slowly turned to face forward again, casting the bartender a smile and a thanks as she set your drinks down. Bradley waited until she drifted away before he added,

“You ran out of there like you were on fire.”

“Thought you turned around I was just gone,” You reminded him, raising your brows. Bradley’s eyes skated across your face.

“Saw you out of the corner of my eye,” He admitted.

“How’d you know it was me?”

“I’ve seen you ditch out of somewhere before.”

You turned from him, taking up your beer.

“You need someone to sock that guy, I’m your first call,” Bradley added, and you couldn’t help but smile ruefully as you shook your head.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

“Katie said he doesn’t treat you right.”

“The way Liz treated you?”

It fell out of your mouth before you can stop it. You watched Bradley’s expression harden, his jaw clenching as his fingers flexed around the bottle in front of him. He didn’t hold your gaze. As bad as you felt for mentioning it, you couldn’t have it over your head anymore.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You plied when he gave no answer. “I asked about that shit for months, like a fricking idiot.”

“You weren’t an idiot. You didn’t know.”

“Exactly my point! Why didn’t you at least pretend you had postponed it or something?”

“I didn’t wanna talk about it. I still don’t.”

“Then why’d you invite me out?”

“I said I didn’t want to talk about that, not that I didn’t want to talk at all.”

You both turned back to your drinks, gaze set contentiously on them.

“…I take it Katie told you about Ryan?” You hedged.

“A bit, yeah.”

“What’d she say?”

“That he’s a dick who won’t compromise.”

“Yeah, well,” You shifted on your bar stool. “I don’t exactly have a gold medal in that, either when it comes to him.”

“Just him?”

You considered for a moment, tipping your chin up and eyeing the opposite wall.

“We butt heads, we always have. It always starts out pretty well, and then…I don’t know. Little things start to break down, little communication errors or fights and they get bigger and bigger, and,” You raised a hand, mimicking an explosion. “He was peeved when we went to Katie’s, thought I pulled him out of there because they said something to me about him. I mean, they would’ve, probably. And they clearly said something to you.”

“She said she had no idea how you even linked back up.”

“I texted him a kitty picture.”

You saw Bradley frown out of the corner of your eye, his mouth working wordlessly as he seemed to grapple with something. It clicked, and you groaned, “No, an actual cat, you—” You reached out, giving his shoulder a light shove as the two of you dissolved into laughter, “You perv.”

–

You don’t let Bradley right back in, and you don’t show Ryan right out, either. Where your friendship with Bradley had been middling, your reopened channels of communication were slowly bringing it back to life. Where your relationship with Ryan had been waning, you gave it another shot in earnest.

–

“So when do I get to meet him?” Bradley asked.

“You already met him,” You chuckled.

“Not properly. I didn’t get a chance to really talk to him.”

“You want to?”

Bradley leaned back in his seat a little. You could feel his gaze sweeping you, even as you poked at your dinner.

“You don’t want me to?” He batted back. You shrugged.

“I have no problem with it. Kinda surprised, considering what Katie’s told you about him.”

“I like to draw my own conclusions. ‘Sides, if you’re with him, he can’t be all that bad.”

“Your opinion of me is way too high, Bradshaw.”

“Your opinion of yourself isn’t high enough.”

Your stomach flipped at his insistence, and you raised your drink to swallow your arguments.

“Gonna have to meet him soon,” He added.

“Why’s that?”

“I’m goin’ away.”

He said it so casually, so easily, like it wouldn’t hit you below the belt and ruin your appetite. You carefully lowered your glass back to the table.

“When?” You asked as lightly as you could manage.

“Next week.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“At least a couple of months.”

You nodded a little, belly squirming with nerves. It was a wholly irrational response. You knew very well what Bradley did. You just hadn’t come into contact with the reality of it before.

“So?” He leaned against the table. “When can I meet him?”

“…I don’t know, I don’t…” You shook your head. “I don’t know when he’s, um…” Your brain was scrambled all of the sudden. It was like it was being overtaken with the knowledge of Bradley’s leaving, the possibilities. “I’ll ask.”

“I’ll pencil it in.”

“Am I gonna see you before I leave?”

“With Ryan?”

“I mean if he can’t make it.”

You give Bradley a guarded gaze from beneath your eyelids, smiling as you see him nodding.

“Course you’re gonna. Dream team, remember?”

–

“Think your guy can pencil me in for when I’m back?”

You grimaced at his question. Bradley had been gone for almost a month, and asking that question for nearly just as long. Your phone time had only increased with his being so far away; you got a call from him every other day, if not every day. You shifted on your couch, eyeing your tv boredly.

“Be kinda weird for you to hang out with a guy I’m not with anymore, but yeah, I’m sure we could work something out.”

There was a moment of quiet on the other end of the phone before he asked, “When’d that happen?“

"Yesterday.”

“And what happened there?”

“We were not, uh…” You shook your head. “Ultimately, we weren’t compatible. I think that’s the nice way to say it.”

“What’s the mean way?”

“He’s a fucking dumbass.”

“Makes sense.”

“Does it?”

“Sure. Anyone who can’t make it work with you—there’s gotta be something wrong with ‘em.”

You tipped your head back against your couch, your feet kicking with childish excitement. Ugh, goddamnit, he always seemed to know the right thing to say.

“Anyway,” You pushed on as you settled back down. “I can still set you up with Ryan.”

“No thank you.”

“Gee, why not?”

“He’s not really my type. Sounds like he’d be Liz’s, though.”

You smiled a little ruefully, hand scrubbing over the side of your neck. It had taken some time, but Bradley had finally opened up to you about what had gone wrong. It hadn’t been anyone’s fault, he’d sworn. It was just that they were in different places, ready (or not ready) for different things. He’d gradually gone from not giving a damn what she’d gotten up to without him to wishing her well. You couldn’t imagine feeling the same good will toward Ryan.

“Doesn’t seem like she needs a fix up,” You quipped.

“She certainly does not.”

“Mm. How’s it going over there?”

“It’s been alright. Tiring,” Bradley admitted. “We’ve moved on to parameter-specific runs, and it’s, uh…It’s gonna be a hard one.”

You bit your lip. You weren’t sure what to say that he surely hadn’t heard a hundred times before. Tell him that he would be fine? Beg him to come home safely?

You hadn’t been able to spend time alone with Bradley before he’d left. Katie had wound up having a small dinner at her place—something for friends, something more casual. You couldn’t bring yourself to selfishly break off another bit of his time, and you’d soaked up all of him that you could while you were there. When the party had ended, you’d trailed him back to the Bronco. Your conversation had gone on and on outside of it, and then inside when you couldn’t bring yourself to stand still. Even then, practically facing one another in the front seat of his car, you’d found yourself feeling antsy. You’d wanted to tell him something beyond the fact that you would miss him. You wanted to tell him that you were worried about him; you wanted to somehow let him know that the news of his sudden departure had kept you up for the better part of a week; you wanted to know if he would be thinking of you, too; you wanted to reach out and touch—his hand, his arm, his cheek, something.

But you’d kept to your side of the car, bottled your protests and worries, and resolutely tried to ignore the way your heart leapt in your throat whenever his knee nearly brushed yours.

Now, the clarity of distance told you that you’d done the right thing. Laying some confession of interest or a kiss on him would’ve clouded the lines of communication that you had open now—lines that you weren’t willing to jeopardize.

“You’ll get it,” You finally said, “Whatever it is.”

“I’d tell you more, but—”

“No, that’s alright. I think that would just make me more worried, anyway.”

“You worry about me?”

Crap. You slid down in your seat, pressing your head back against the cushion.

“Course I do,” You admitted quietly, as if he could lose the sound of you over the phone—as if your mumbled confirmation wouldn’t be chased or leaned into.

“You don’t have to.”

“Oh, well, thank you for that absolution. I was only worrying for fun.”

“C’mon,” Bradley chuckled softly. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” You grumbled.

“It’s nice.”

“It’s nice? You enjoy making me worry? That’s just cruel, Bradshaw.”

“Swear to god, when I get back, I’m gonna—”

“What?” You goaded, heart ticking up in your chest. “What are you gonna do?”

Maybe it was a step too far. Bradley went quiet on the other end of the phone. Your mouth went dry as you waited with nervous anticipation. And then you registered the yell of someone on the other end of the phone, the use of his callsign.

“Shit,” He muttered, then, louder: “I gotta go.”

“Okay,” You nodded. It was better that he couldn’t see the nod, or the way panic washed across your face. “Be careful.”

He didn’t need to be told that, but you couldn’t help the plea.

“I will,” He swore. And then he was gone. You lowered your phone, watching as BB (#DreamTeam) flickered away, leaving your lock screen. Gonna what? What the hell was he gonna do when he got back?

Then again, you weren’t sure you cared what it was, so long as he did get back.

–

“Did I wake you up?”

“No!” You leaned over, turning your lamp on and pushing yourself to sit up, your phone clutched in your hand. You knew that the first thing you’d said to him, your groggy little opening gambit of, “Whazzit?” had probably given the game away, but hell, he’d asked.

You’d hardly heard from Bradley for the last few weeks. You hadn’t reached out. You hadn’t wanted to bother or distract him from his task. But on the late nights when you couldn’t sleep, you found yourself wondering if Bradley hadn’t contacted you because he couldn’t—because something had gone wrong. You’d found yourself constantly checking your phone, keeping it on the edge of your periphery on the off-chance he called or texted.

“You lying to me?” He added. At least he sounded a little amused by the prospect. You scrubbed your hand across your eyes. Damnit.

“…A little bit,” You mumbled.

“Go back to sleep.”

“Nooo,” You whined, kicking your feet petulantly beneath your sheets. “Talk to me.”

“You laying down?”

“…I was.”

“Lay back down.”

The order felt a little salacious, but you were sure he meant nothing by it. Still, you slid down as he said, tipping your sleep-heavy head back against the pillows.

“Talk to me,” You urged again. “Please?”

“You should’ve let me go to voicemail.”

“I said talk, not argue.”

“Now who’s arguing?”

You smiled, letting your eyes close.

“‘M not arguing. Making a point isn’t arguing.”

“It is when you use that tone.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

His reassurance made you melt into the mattress a little more.

“Good,” You mumbled. “I was afraid you weren’t.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Now you’re arguing again,” He chuckled. “You always this combative when you wake up?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“…Yeah, I would.”

For a moment, you were certain you imagined him saying it, or that you’d managed to mishear him in his hazy state.

“You could, you know,” You finally offered.

“Oh yeah? How would I do that?”

His voice was different than you were used to—low and soothing, and curled with a wink that you longed to see.

“How do you think?”

“Could always call you in the middle of the night again.”

You pushed a sleepy, ugly giggle, then slapped your hand over your mouth when you realized that the sound escaped you. Bradley laughed quietly on the other end.

“If that’s the route you wanna go, Bradshaw.”

“I am sorry,” He added. “I forgot what time it was over there.”

“S’okay, I don’t mind. I missed your voice.”

God, being tired made you far more loose-lipped than you typically were. You were already penciling in a reminder to be mortified about this conversation in the morning. But it was chased and erased by Bradley’s gentle,

“I missed yours, too.”

Your stomach squirmed at the sentiment, a goofy smile spreading across your face.

“Even when it sounds like I’ve been gargling gravel?” You teased.

“You don’t sound like that.”

It took you a few moments to answer. As badly as you wanted to stay awake, you could feel sleep sinking its claws into you, drawing you back down.

“No? Feels like I do.”

“You don’t. You might if you stay up talking to me, though.”

“Worth it,” You insisted. You didn’t know if he took longer to answer, or if it took longer to register with you. But his voice finally worked through:

“Go back to sleep.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Mmmkay,” You finally relented. “Get home safe, please.”

“I will.”

–

In the morning, you were far less embarrassed than you thought you would be. Sure, there were still things that you sort of wish that you hadn’t said, but they were clouded out by other things—like the way Bradley had reassured you that you didn’t sound like hell, and the fact that he’d missed your voice in the first place.

Still, all of those things were stomped out by one thing that you were almost certain had been a figment of your sleep-addled mind, something that you wanted desperately to be real, but would never bring yourself to ask Bradley about—

The sound of his warm, tender little murmur right before you’d drifted off entirely:

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You spent the morning stewing over whether or not you’d really heard Bradley say that, or if you’d conjured it up. Maybe it was something that you simply wanted so badly that you had imagined it.

Your eyes kept darting to your phone during work, your heart leaping into your throat every time the screen lit up. It was usually some app alert. Every time you perked up at the sight of it only to be let down, you felt silly. It was another entire day of ebbing excitement and rising disappointment, raising your hopes for absolutely nothing. By the time you left your office, you’d exhausted yourself. You were being ridiculous. Sure, he’d said he’d see you soon, but that was probably relative to—

“Did you manage to fall back asleep? Or did you stop talking because you were bored with me?”

Your eyes widened, your mouth falling open at the sight of him outside your office building. You didn’t even think as you darted toward him, barrelling into him. Bradley took hold of you as though you hadn’t run into him with any force. He held firm, curling his arms around your shoulders as you clung to him. Neither of you spoke for a few minutes. He smoothed his hand over your back as you grappled with it all—the feel of him; the scent of his cologne and aftershave; the fact that you could see him, touch him, prove to yourself that he was okay.

When you finally managed to talk yourself into loosening your grasp, you drew back a little, your bashful embarrassment bubbling up and trying to overtake the joy that you felt. Bradley simply smiled, cupping your cheek in a way that made your heart sing.

“Hi there,” He murmured.

“Hi,” You laughed nervously. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—I wasn’t thinking.”

“S’alright,” He shook his head. “I’m not complaining.”

“When you said you’d see me soon, I didn’t think you meant so soon.”

“I know. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, mission accomplished.”

His thumb swept gently over the apple of your cheek, his smile pulling wide to match yours.

“When did you get back?” You asked.

“Couple of hours ago.”

And he was there, with you? Your fingers tightened in the fabric of his shirt.

“Aren’t you tired?”

“A little.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“What do you want?”

Bradley’s tongue swept across his lips, his eyes skimming your face for a moment. Then, seeming to rethink something, he shrugged.

“Whatever you’ve got.”

–

Technically you didn’t have much, but Bradley didn’t gripe about ordering in pizza. Hell, when you suggested it, he let out a groan that rattled right through you before emphatically agreeing:

“Fuck yes. Please.”

The way he said it stuck with you for entirely the wrong reason, and you found yourself almost studiously perusing a delivery app for the best option to keep him from clocking your aroused embarrassment. You didn’t have a dining room table, so the two of you wound up eating side by side, close, with some nonsense tv show that neither of you were really paying attention to playing in the background. When you asked about how it had gone, as delicately as possible, he shrugged.

“I won’t pretend it was the worst mission I’ve ever flown,” He said. “But I’m going to pretend that it was the best, either.”

He didn’t go into specifics, but that was alright. You still weren’t quite certain that you wanted him to. The less you knew, the better. Besides, it didn’t matter, anyway. He was there, safe, with you.

“Well,” You leaned back, on your couch, dusting the crumbs off of your fingers. “I’m glad it worked out.” “Mm,” He nodded, pushing his plate away before he looked around. You raised your brows as he lowered his hand to the cushions, giving them a squeeze.

“So,” He smiled, “This where you usually call me from?”

“Usually.”

“Even last night?”

“Last night was a bit of an exception. I think we both know that.”

“Where were you?”

You nodded toward the hall. “My room. That’s where I gargle gravel.”

“I told you you didn’t sound bad,” Bradley laughed.

“Yeah, you did, and I still don’t believe you.”

Bradley shook his head a little. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his hand sliding across the cushion, a little closer to you.

“You sounded good,” He insisted.

“Good might be stretching it.”

“Good’s the tip of the iceberg.”

Your tummy fluttered at the feeling of his fingertips tenderly skating over the back of your hand. Your fingers wriggled, like it would entice him to touch you more—like if you didn’t move, didn’t react, he’d pull away or stop. Bradley lowered his gaze to your hands, and your breath caught in your throat as you felt him gently turn yours, his calloused fingertips skating across your palm.

“…Bradley?”

“Mhm?”

“This may be an incredibly dumb question—”

“Doubt it.”

“Wh—” You laughed nervously before you could finish the question. “Why did you…I mean, you just got back. Why’d you come see me?”

“Because I missed you.” He took hold of your hand, his thumb sweeping along the side. “I needed to see you.”

The word makes your pulse quicken, and you blink a few times to try and clear your swimming head.

“…Needed?” You repeated dazedly. Bradley nodded, lifting his head to meet your eye.

“Needed, sweetheart.”

The way he said it was so soft, and warm, and so perfectly familiar that you could’ve cried. But Bradley was already cradling your cheek, already drawing you close and leaning in to meet you halfway. You raised your other hand, cupping the side of his neck as your lips met for the first time. Your eyes closed as you savored the tender slip and press of his kiss. The mustache was a little bristly, but hardly as intrusive as you thought it may be. The slight tickle of it made you smile.

Bradley drew back, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw before he pressed his face into your neck.

“Goddamn,” He mumbled, voice rumbling against your skin. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.”

“You have?” You asked, sliding your hand up into his hair.

“Longer than I should’ve been.”��

You bit your lip, resting your head against his.

“If it makes you feel any better, so have I.”

He pressed a sweet kiss to the crook of your neck before sweeping his lips over your neck and jaw, up to your ear.

“It does.”

You shivered at the caress of his breath. You turned your head shyly, nuzzling the tip of his nose with yours before tipping your chin up, giving him another gentle kiss. Bradley sighed into you, his grip in your hand tightening as you shifted closer to him. You hummed softly as he leaned back, resting his forehead against yours, chasing his lips for another peck.

“Before I completely monopolize your time, is there anything else that you planned on doing tonight?” You asked. Bradley chuckled, shaking his head.

“I did want to do one thing.”

You tried not to let your disappointment show as you, just nodded.

“What’s that?”

“See how combative you are when you wake up.”

You grinned wide, raising your hand and curling it in his collar, drawing him closer.

“Just you wait, mister.”

Taglist: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @paintballkid711 ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @nolanell ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce

#Bradley Bradshaw x Reader #Bradley Bradshaw x You #Bradley Bradshaw/Reader #Bradley Bradshaw/You #Bradley Bradshaw fic #Bradley Bradshaw imagine #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Reader #The Periphery

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lizdonnelly · 25 days

Text

bodyache

Pairing: Elizabeth Donnelly x f!reader

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, smut, a dash of mommy kink for good measure

Summary:

You said, you said "Turn the lights down, I wanna be alone" I read your head away I couldn't stand how it pleaded, I needed to take Take a break, take me down, take me down there I wanna stare at the tears, how they watered your years

Based on a request for f!reader reassuring a vulnerable Liz.

---

"Santa leave her in your stocking as an early Christmas present? Wouldn't necessarily say you qualify for the nice list, Elizabeth," Arthur Branch chuckled, motioning towards you with his glass.

You felt Liz's grasp tighten on your hand. From the corner of your eye, you could see her head tilt in the tell tale manner it did whenever she was preparing to unleash a verbal ass beating.

"Pleasure to meet you too, Counselman. Heard you're quite the saint, yourself," you piped up with a facetious smile. "Curious how your daughter is staying back in Georgia with her mother again this year. Can't imagine why. Airfare must be too expensive these days."

Lena Petrovsky snickered.

Figured. Corporate types loved when an outsider said what they all couldn't. You were thankful for the bits of gossip Liz fed you over your coffee dates, as it was easy to weaponize them in times like this.

Next to her, a taller woman shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She adjusted her narrow black frames and studied Liz, as if judging whether or not it was safe for her to laugh as well. Out of all the suits stuffed into the swanky bar that evening, she somehow looked the most out of place, ducking out of the way awkwardly whenever a waiter slid by.

"What's it you do again, Miss? Are you one of the ladies that takes my blood when they wheel you into the ER?" Arthur jabbed. "I thought you had to be at least 16 to get a job around here. Mercy General must've fallen on hard times."

Ah, the good ol' age joke and a sexist joke to boot. What a BOGO. You knew his back was against the wall now.

"Really now, Arthur," Lena said, rolling her eyes.

"No, he has a point. I often confuse phlebotomists and trauma surgeons," you said lightly. "I'm sure it was an honest mistake."

---

Later in the evening, you found yourself sat in a booth across from the leggy blonde.

Snowflakes were beginning to fall outside, flurries catching in the light of the streetlamps. The music in the bar had quieted down, replaced by the sounds of the Manhattan DA's office trading stories and looking for any opportunity to climb the corporate ladder.

Your attention, however, was caught by Liz. Typically bold and brash, she seemed to hang on the periphery of the crowd tonight, sandwiched next to Lena. She said very little.

"Don't beat yourself up, you should be proud of the way you handled Branch."

You turned to face the woman, whom you learned was named Alex.

"How do you do it?"

"What, deal with him? Lots of Ibuprofen. He's that way with everyone."

"No," you paused, gesturing to the crowd with a loose straw you picked up off the table. "All of this. This whole ecosystem. It'd drive me nuts."

"The type of people who get to this level fought to get here, fought for nights like this. It's why we put up with law school, all those pro bono service hours..." she trailed off. Alex picked at her salad. "Liz isn't any different."

"She can turn it off, though."

Alex's brow furrowed.

"What?"

"Sorry, I'm only used to the Liz Donnelly who breaks down the door to my office whenever she catches wind that my position on a case differs from hers."

You grinned, thinking about how her short, blonde locks bounced whenever she was marching around the brownstone in a tizzy over something that happened at work earlier in the day. It occurred to you that the cause of those occasional outbursts must've been the woman sat across from you.

"I'm glad she's found someone," Alex said softly. "For all the shit she gives me, I've heard she's had it rough in this business."

"What lawyer doesn't, besides the ones that scoot by on family ties?"

Alex bit at her bottom lip.

"I assume the past 30 or so years haven't been the kindest to women, let alone those that... go against the grain."

---

"Yo, you catch the babe in the dress over there? Heard she's the one 'doin' a Donnelly' now," the paralegal snorted. He adjusted his quarter zip with a swell of pride as the other young men around him laughed.

Something in the pit of Liz's stomach turned at the phrase that still circulated around the halls of the DA's office.

She feigned interest in whatever Lena was rattling on about next to her. Gardening, her English bulldog Petunia, the new developmental milestone her grandson had hit a startlingly early age. Take your pick. None of it mattered.

"What's a chick like that doing with Donnelly? There's gotta be a good 20 year difference between them, at least," another one chided. "In it for the cash?"

"God, you couldn't pay me to deal with all that feminist, liberal bullshit."

"I think you're safe, man. Everyone knows that cougar's not coming after you," the other snickered.

Liz snapped her head around. Lena paused.

"Elizabeth?"

"Have a good night, Lena. I have to go make a call."

Liz slipped through the crowd towards you, leaving the judge confused, but altogether indifferent.

---

The ride back to the brownstone was unusually silent.

Typically, the drive back from one of her work events consisted of Liz recounting how "that motherfucker was saying an awful lot for a man who cheats on his wife with his clerk", or how "that public defender at the bar is the one I told you about who keeps getting hit by her repeat offenders". They were boisterous little getaways from reality that you loved sharing with her, thankful for a glimpse into what her world really held.

Not so much this time.

Liz's arm was limp around your shoulder, and as you studied her face, you noticed her wide brown eyes preoccupied with watching the moon from outside the town car.

It hung high above the city, fat and pale.

Snow crunched underneath the tires.

You squeezed her hand.

She gave you a half-smile, a million miles away.

---

Once inside, Liz flicked the lock on the door, took off her coat, and retreated into the depths of the hallway that led to her home office.

Your eyebrows rose.

Although there hadn't been any fighting you'd witnessed break out at the bar, something must've transpired. It was unlike Liz not to be pressing you into the wall, eager to shuck your dress off as soon as you both made it back. Stranger still, the attorney was rarely one of few words.

Badgering her to open up didn't strike you as a method that'd be successful. Years of learning how to maneuver through conversations with resistant patients throughout medical school and, more recently, residency had taught you better. Elizabeth Donnelly would be yet another test to your bedside manner, you thought as you padded up the stairs.

So be it.

When you reached Liz's bedroom, you headed straight for the bathroom, collecting some of the tea candles you'd brought over a few weeks earlier. Soon, they littered the surfaces of the end tables on either side of the prosecutor's bed and along the ledge next to the tub. After lighting each of them, you rifled through the drawer she had started letting you keep your clothes in.

You searched with the aid of the wavering flames of the tea lights until you felt terrycloth slide through your fingers. Your bathrobe. Liz would have a black silk one somewhere in her closet, which proved easier to find in the dim light than you thought it would.

Off came your dress. You missed the feeling of Liz pressing up against your back, her breath heavy against the back of your neck as you heard your zipper come undone. As you discarded your bra on the floor along with your panties, you felt yourself ache for the way she'd slide her hands around your back to cup and massage your breasts.

You steeled yourself.

No matter how much you missed her touch, you wouldn't be feeling it until Liz crossed whatever bridge she was stuck on.

You folded her robe neatly at the end of the bed, and headed into the bathroom to draw a bath.

---

Liz sat in front of her computer, scrolling aimlessly through a redlined document that wouldn't matter until the following week. Her eyes scanned the paragraphs, watching the words slide off the screen.

Anything to keep her mind off the feeling in the pit of her stomach would be a welcomed distraction, even if it meant numbing herself to her surroundings.

The ghosts of the voices from the douchebags at the bar whispered at the edges of her consciousness. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Fuck.

"Honey?"

Liz opened her eyes. The words on the screen blurred together into a tangle of symbols.

You reached over, thumb swiping at the power button on the monitor.

Liz felt her office chair spin.

She looked up at you, mascara and eyeliner smudged. Her eyes were bloodshot.

"Come on," you said softly, gently taking hold of her hands. "Let's get you upstairs."

"I'm not in the mood tonight, sweetheart, I'm sorry..." she trailed off. Her voice was hollow. Worry grew in the back of your mind when you noticed she couldn't hold your gaze.

"I know. I'm not expecting anything. I think you need to wash up. It's getting pretty late," you said slowly.

Liz withdrew a hand to wipe at her eye, nodding.

---

You led her upstairs, grounding yourself mentally once more when she was quiet at the sight of the candles.

Wordlessly, you handed her the silk robe, and began easing her arms out of her blazer. You could tell she was confused, but she didn't resist.

"Thank you," Liz muttered.

You pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. She shuddered.

Confidence growing, you pressed your palms against her shoulders, and walked her into the bathroom where the tub waited.

"You're an angel, really," she sighed. "I don't know why you put up with someone like me."

That was it.

"Someone like you?" you played along, watching closely as she slid into the warm water with you. You moved to sit behind her. Had she been herself, you knew she'd fight you on that, but here and now she allowed you to wrap yourself around her back and pull her into your arms as you shifted up against the wall of the tub.

She sniffled.

You ran a warm, wet hand through her hair. Liz leaned into your touch.

"Someone my age."

"When has that ever been something I said I didn't care for?" you asked without any edge to your voice. You pressed your thumbs into the muscles that lined her shoulder blades now, massaging at the tension you felt rippling under her skin.

"Doesn't mean you couldn't be thinking it."

You laid your forehead against the back of her head.

"Liz, you're better with words than I am. I know there's nothing I can say to prove to you that I really don't care about that."

She hummed as you rolled your hands over her shoulders.

"Well, your tactfulness is proving exactly why they all loved you tonight."

"You know how honored it makes me feel that Arthur Branch likes me, my entire night hinged on winning him over," you teased.

Liz's body trembled slightly in your arms as she laughed at this.

"He's a jackass, Liz. I don't care if he or the judge thinks I'm too young."

"I know," she said, her voice quieting again. "It's just that...seeing you light up the room does make me wonder."

Instead of responding, you leaned down to press a kiss to either of her shoulders, allowing her space to finally speak her thoughts.

"There was a group of boys eyeing you up while I was talking to Lena."

"A group of twentysomething year-old Vineyard Vines proto-lawyers, wow. Just about the only thing more enticing than talking to Branch," you snorted. You could tell Liz smiled to herself at that.

"We have those types at the hospital. It's funny, there's a lot of crossover between your world and mine. Well, in terms of the undesirables."

"That why you're not with some other hotshot young doctor?"

She stiffened. You planted featherlight kisses across her jaw.

"I like my food well-seasoned, so to speak. And female, at that."

"You like your food 'female'?" Liz snickered. She still kept her eyes shut. You could tell that although a few bricks had been removed, the wall she built around herself still remained.

"Hey, I told you you're the one who's good with words here," you giggled. "But I know a better way to show you what I mean."

---

You led Liz, legs hot and leaden with exhaustion, to the bed.

Knowing that she wouldn't cooperate with being pushed onto her back, even in the state she was in, you patted the edge of the bed.

She acquiesed.

You leaned down, cupping her cheek. Her lips met yours hesitantly. You pressed deeper, teeth tugging at her bottom lip before you dropped to your knees.

Liz's breathing grew heavier. You trailed kisses down her chest, stopping to pop one of her nipples into your mouth. She moaned at this. Soon, her fingers wound their way into your hair. You move to suckle at the other nipple, watching as she pivoted to help ease it into your mouth.

"Mmmph..." you groaned, mouth full of her.

She kissed at your forehead.

With a wet pop, you released her nipple from your mouth, trails of saliva dribbling down her chest and your chin as you continued your way down, peppering her body with open-mouthed smooches. Feeling her shudder and groan caused the ache that throbbed between your legs to grow.

"Goddamn," Liz swore from up above you as you began lapping at the wetness you were glad to find between her legs like a kitten before a warm bowl of milk. You moved to let her drench your face, never able to get as close as you wanted to be to her. Your nose rubbed at her clit, which in turn led her to tighten her grip on the back of her head.

You looked up between her folds to find her staring down at you fondly behind heavily lidded eyes.

Getting closer.

Not looking away, you moved to wrap your lips around her clit, tongue stroking along the length of it.

"That's it, sweetheart," she panted now.

You tongued and sucked at her eagerly, pressing into the hips she began to roll against your face, until you felt her body freeze as her orgasm rippled over her. You moaned, moving to lap up as much of her as you could.

Rising to your feet, you wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand and smiled.

"Well-seasoned, told you," you teased, chest rising and falling.

Something shifted in her gaze, and the attorney tilted her head towards the bed.

"Lay back."

You listened.

Soon, you fixed your eyes to the ceiling, head comfortable on the pillow you knew she preferred sleeping on. The waning flames from the candles danced along the walls, the smell of sandalwood and lavender from the tub still heavy in the air.

She nudged between your legs, moving to climb atop you.

A wave of anxiety floated across your mind, almost as if you were making love for the first time all over again. It was something in the way she regarded you. Tenderly, hesitantly. So unlike what people knew her to be.

You steadied your breathing as she leaned down to kiss you. Surprisingly, her tongue slid readily into your mouth. You felt her begin to stroke at your nipples. You reached up, pulling her head closer to you to deepen the kiss, your thirst for her mouth all over yours something she hadn't quenched.

She pulled back, smiling at your sounds of protest.

"Greedy," Liz teased.

"I can't help it," you groaned from beneath her. "I want more of you. All of you."

One of her fingers busied itself between your folds now.

"All of me?" she countered. "You don't want some young gun bedding you?"

At this, she slid it inside of you, slowly beginning to pump. For as much as you were trying, you felt your grasp on what remained of your patience slip.

"Lizzie, come on..."

"And what?"

You groaned, feet running up and down the sheets. Her movements were maddeningly slow, never quite full enough, deep enough. She knew this.

"Fuck me. Hard. Claim me like I know you want to," you panted.

Liz shifted.

You gasped as you felt her lift your legs up onto her shoulders. It was nothing, though, like the way your brain spiraled like the suds around the drain when you felt her run the tip of her strap along the edge of your hole.

Liz leaned forward, pinning her hands to your wrists and pressing them into the mattress. She bucked her hips forward, and a moan escaped your lips as she filled you.

The attorney thrust in and out of you with a ferocity you hadn't felt from her yet, let alone from anyone, despite how hot-blooded she had been with you in the past. Not allowing either of you a chance to catch your breath, hers came in hot, ragged puffs over your face. You couldn't break away from her gaze, which poured over you with an intensity edged with a certain sense of resolve.

She needed this. Needed to know you were hers to hold, hers to bed.

With each stroke, she nailed at that spot inside you that melted your brain, deep and heavy. There'd surely be bruises in the morning, but you weren't able to think that far ahead anymore.

"I'm the only one..." she huffed, "the only one who gets to do this to you."

Your heart thumped between your ribs, threatening to snap them apart and claw its way out of your open chest.

"Say it."

You could barely hear her above you.

"Say it for me, darling," Liz repeated, appearing to be riding close to her own orgasm as well, no doubt from the way the base of her strap was rubbing against her.

You squeezed your eyes shut. Blood thumped in your ears.

"Fuck...please, mommy...please...Iet me cum..."

Your heart dropped as you felt her studder in her motions. Eyes snapping open, you realized those words you whined weren't kept within the confines of your own head.

"Oh god, Liz, I'm so sorry, I-"

Something behind Liz's eyes darkened.

She covered your body with hers, tongue cutting you off as she roughly bucked once, twice, three more times to send you both careening into the waves of pleasure that erupted across each of you. She bit at your lip hard, drawing blood. You groaned. Hands groped across sweaty expanses of flesh, unable to grasp enough.

When you finally parted, the fog had cleared.

The prosecutor's shoulders were set firmly. Though her chest still rose and fell, the look in her eyes was wholly her again, albeit with a certain eagerness blooming within their depths.

"Don't apologize for that. Ever."

A weary grin spread across your face.

Relief, sweet relief.

Your heart bounded happily. She picked up one of your hands, kissing each knuckle.

"Satisfied?" you asked, shifting to slide beneath the sheets.

She patted your thigh.

"More than you know."

#elizabeth donnelly x reader #elizabeth donnelly #liz donnelly #liz donnelly x reader

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silentwillowwhisperer · 8 months

Text

miss you

Imagine Keith and Lance on opposite sides of the universe, using their not-so-secret communicators to talk to each other.

It would be so late at night that it’s really morning but they can’t resist talking to each other, it’s like two matched sides of a magnet. You can pull away, but you can tell that the invisible ropes between them are always there.

They’ve both had long days, Lance visited a planet of weird tube animal-people that he’s calling ‘the nation of hooties,’ and he needs to tell Keith absolutely everything about it. Keith has had a long day of missions and strict discipline and wants nothing more than to hear Lance’s steady voice spin exaggerated tales about the new places he visits every day.

He hates the fact that he’s in this new, unfamiliar place, but Lance makes it feel safer. He’s adaptable, sure, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t desire something constant.

Every night Lance opens up with something cheesy, like a dumb pick-up line or some lovey sentence that sounds like it’s from a really old rom-com. Keith always tries to keep a straight face, but Lance has a special knack for making Keith laugh.

They may have started out as so-called rivals, but now it’s just a joke between them. Now, they tell each other anything and everything. If one of them felt a strong emotion like jealousy or joy, the other knows. If one saw something that made their day, the other knows.

They’ve gotten so good at communicating with each other that they can pick up on the other’s mood just by making eye contact. Suddenly, they know each other better than anyone else in the world.

Lance had felt guilty about that at first, but as soon as he told Keith, the other boy had reassured him as if it were a second nature, easy as pie.

That’s the other thing, Keith may be a hot mess when it comes to words, but he never fails to comfort or sympathize with him in dark moments. Just seeing Keith’s face makes his heart swell up and his eyes shine. Keith once compared it to star shine, saying that Lance sparkled to brightly that you could see it trying to flood out of his eyes. He had a really weird, Keith-ish way of making Lance flush bright red without fail.

No one ever complains about the two of them talking late into the night. Yeah, Lance has very limited volume control and often laughs loud enough for the other paladins to hear it from their rooms in the middle of the night, but he always looks so happy and confident the morning after, so they let it slide.

Keith often gets out of bed and tromps around the blade base when they call, but the blades have noticed that his performance on missions improves significantly after he does so. Anyway, a bit of white noise is nice some nights, because it gets so quiet you could hear a pin drop from anywhere in the base (literally, their Galra hearing is a bit freaky sometimes).

One night when they’re both ducked under the covers of their beds and can only just make out the outline of their faces thanks to the hollow glow of the communicators, Keith whispers out, “I… miss you.” It’s almost too quiet for Lance to hear it, but it makes his heart crumble anyway.

Something about that quiet moment makes it seem like Keith said something horrible and world-shattering. The pale lighting reminds Lance of his great-grandfather’s funeral when he was six. Keith’s tired face looks like his Mama’s when he asked what death was after the ceremony was. She had cried, and even though he was too understand grief or what the funeral meant, her soft sobs stuck with him forever.

Lance doesn’t need to ask what happened.

All he can whisper back is, “I know. I promise I’ll be with you soon.”

If doesn’t make them any less sad, but they both latch onto the words anyway.

Shiro is a little bit put off when Keith returns back home to the castle and goes to hug Lance before speaking to anyone else, but he does enjoy tricking them into dating each other.

(Even though they kinda were already.)

(And he likes seeing his baby brother all cute and happy.)

————————————-

My brain lump isn’t thinking clearly, so if this doesn’t make sense, then that’s why.

#keith kogane #vld #voltron legendary defender #voltron #lance mcclain #klance #keith vld #vld keith #lance vld #blade keith #tawny post

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fitzs-trained-monkey · 1 year

Text

Treasure

Summary: Pirate Kol. What more do you need to know? I will say this is kind of heavily POTC based but in what world is that a bad thing? Oh... I also tossed a nice helping of yandere in here too. This one's for you Tumblr. || Kol Mikaelson x Siren!reader || Here lies my Masterlist ||

Word Count: Uh... Nevermind.

Warnings: ALL OF THEM! Yandere content, blood, blood drinking, use of the w*nch word, torture, kidnapping, non-consensual touching, I don't know if steamy is the right word but I'll use it. Seriously, this is in no way a healthy relationship.

⛈️ STORY BEGINS BELOW 🌊

The tavern was, by no means, the proper place for a lady of your position. You should have been tucked safely in your bed, away from the riotous clamor of thieves, beggars, and assorted drunken knaves. Alas, you had chosen to spend your night among them nonetheless. For there was no better place in all the town to hear stories of magic and macabre than from the mouths of the sailors what gathered there.

Voices bellowed, violins fiddled, and tavern-goers danced while ale flowed endlessly on tap. Ducking through the crowded door, you searched the crowd for a candidate likely to entertain you this evening. Off to your right was gathered a throng of bar-maids, wenches, and commoner women, seemingly engrossed in the tale of a visiting sailor. Your little town was nothing impressive - a mere stop along the way to greater places - yet nary a sailor would easily avoid making port here once in a while. Strapping young men were always coming and going and to say that you didn't welcome them would be a falsehood indeed.

With a hint of a smile teasing your lips, you strode delicately through the teeming pub with practiced ease before selecting a seat a little ways off from the mass of women huddled around the jolly sailor. You had always possessed a rather odd talent for discerning voices from crowded rooms, no matter how many bodies were packed between the walls. You singled out the storyteller's tones soon enough.

His voice was velvety and pleasant, serene and crisp like a winter's breeze. The words he spoke were carefully arranged on a wicked sharp tongue and the vibrant tonality of them held his audience's rapt attention. From the glimpses you caught of him through the shifting bodies, it was plain to see that he basked in it, grinning broadly with wild gestures and boisterous laughter. He was young, certainly not much older than yourself and the way he carried himself bespoke a charming arrogance most women would swoon for. The boy's thick hair was as dark as elm and hung in lazy, wind-tossed ringlets. His eyes seemed black as coal in the meager candlelight but they flickered with a spark of licentiousness. Doubtless, he was beautiful, with clean, sharp features and that exuberant air. Questions arose from his audience and he met them with a dazzling and clever wit. Listening was like watching verbal sword-play - a duel in which one side had the absolute advantage.

His gaze flicked from person to person with the proper variance to keep his listeners interested, yet never lingering in any meaningful way. You watched him with an amused quirk of the lips as he spoke a tale of cannibals, sirens, and a monstrous sea serpent he'd dubbed Bartholomew. As was so often your ploy, you sat close enough to catch his words yet distanced yourself enough to remain outside his realm of attention. Handsome though he was, you didn't much fancy becoming the focus of his charm.

Men seemed to have a rather untoward tendency to latch onto you and the longer they spent in your presence the more they seemed to lose all sense of propriety or decorum. Ever since one particular instance where the brute of a man had gone so far as to attack you, your father had assigned you multiple chaperones for any public appearance. It was bothersome, to say the least - suffocating certainly, and recently you had resorted to sneaking out just to have a chance to breathe.

So when the boy's eyes chanced to meet yours through the throng, you felt a spark of panic. There was something breathtakingly vast in those obsidian irises, looking into them felt like staring up at the night sky stretching onward into infinite blackness. The world in its entirety seemed to shift as his boundless attention, like a telescoping lens, narrowed its focus solely on you. His voice broke off mid-sentence and he seemed to lose his breath.

Other men had displayed similar reactions to you before, but never had one conveyed such devastating yet beauteous intensity. A flattered blush painted your cheeks, yet you couldn't find it in you to glance away. For a split second, you thought you saw a shadow of something sinfully animalistic flit across his face, but it was gone before you could register it. You felt aberrantly… ravished by his gaze. Though it startled you to find it was not a wholly unwelcome sensation.

He smiled, not a lecherous smirk but an earnest grin as though you were the safe harbor amidst a storm-tossed sea. You smiled - modest and demure- in return before the shifting crowd cut off your connection.

It was time to leave

Finishing what little food you had ordered, you gathered your skirts and stood only to trip over a stray foot. You stumbled forward into the arms of a stranger who steadied you with ease.

"Thank y- Oh!" You blinked. Before you stood that handsome sailor, holding you gently. His hands felt like flames licking at your upper arms.

"Good evening," He said, bowing his head to you. Your thoughts froze in place.

“Y-yes,” You stammered. “It is.”

He smiled gently and smoothed his hands down your arms, spreading those flames over your skin. You blushed fiercely as he lifted your hands to his lips and conferred a kiss on the backs of both. Those amaranthine eyes never left yours.

“Do my eyes deceive me or might I be standing in the presence of the divine, empyrean, angel sent to abide my recreant and wretched soul?” He said, brushing a lock of hair from your face. Your breath caught in your throat.

You had received compliments from men before - been showered with them - but never before had you heard something so astonishingly genuine part from the lips of a complete stranger. The compliments tossed at you were nearly always the scandalous sort.

“I’m afraid you must be mistaken,” You breathed, nearly trembling with nerves.

“That’s certainly possible, blinded as I am by your beauty.” He smiled, twisting that lock of your hair around and around his finger. There was something in that smile that vaguely reminded you of the way a parched man might look at a drawing of water - you might almost describe it as delirious, if not tamer than that. “Might you do me the honor of hearing your name?”

“My name is Y/N,” You replied. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Well then, Miss. L/N-” The way his tongue rolled around your name made your heart skip a beat. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought he’d noticed as a satisfied gleam flashed through his eyes. “-I would have you know, that I’d need not so much as glimpse another woman for the rest of my days if you would grace me with just one dance.”

Your stomach fluttered and you wished this could be so, but you knew better by now. Just one dance was never enough. Just one kiss was never enough. They always wanted more.

You bowed your head, avoiding his immeasurably heavy gaze. “My apologies, sir,” You said, breathless. “But I must be getting home. I’ve lingered here far too long already.”

Disappointment tugged at the corners of his lips. “I see. Perhaps I could accompany you?”

You offered a dry smile. “Only if you would wish to be intimately acquainted with my father’s sword.”

“I would prefer to avoid that, I think.” He laughed but it was sad. “Might I see you here again?”

“I should think not.”

He wasn’t the first boy you had rejected, but that didn’t make it any easier. You’d never felt worthy of the attention you received. It had never felt real before now. Smiling regretfully, you risked granting him a pat on the chest before stepping around him. You felt his eyes hover on your back as you weaved your way through the tavern and out the door. That sensation did not cease until you arrived home and closed the front door.

In your attempts to make your way unheard through the blackness of your father’s estate, you unwittingly walked directly into the map table which took up a significant portion of the entryway for the time being. Your hip bashed against the corner and you winced as several of the small wooden figures, representing ships under your father’s charge, toppled over. Thankfully, all the household maids were abed at this hour and your father was away on business so no one was likely to have heard. Taking your time to carefully study the map, you replaced the figures in their proper order and scampered off to bed.

You awoke to cannon fire.

The echoing blasts shook you from your dreams and you shot upright, whipping your gaze to the window which peered out over the bay. There, in the water, was anchored a ship you had never seen. Its cannons flashed in the night as it fired upon the shoreline, parts of the village had already caught fire. Such a sight could only mean one thing.

Pirates.

A sudden crash and a shout tore your eyes from the window. The sound of heavy boots pounding up the stairs flooded your heart with dread. Torchlight flared beneath your door and you had not time enough to move before it burst from its hinges.

You screamed.

A pair of men dragged you from your bed by your arms. You writhed and fought like a wild dog as they dragged you down the stairs. Grinning in vicious satisfaction, you managed to drive your foot solidly into the stomach of one of the brigands. After that, they resolved to hold you down as one of them coiled a length of rope around your feet and shoved a rag in your mouth before hauling you off again. They dragged you to the beach and tossed you into a longboat. You would have attempted to tip the miserable thing if not for the knife one of the dirty pirates held to your throat.

“Quite the beauty our captain’s found for himself, eh?” The one with the knife inquired of his companion. Tattoos covered his body and his right eye was scarred beyond recognition.

“Don’t matter much, methinks.” The other shrugged. A sandy-haired man with hardened eyes and a crooked nose. “Doubt this one will last much longer than the rest.”

“Sure seems a shame, lettin’ a body like this go to waste,” The first agreed. He brushed a finger over your cheek and you snarled.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Sandy-hair warned. “I doubt he would take lightly to his orders being disregarded.”

Tattoos scoffed. “That captain’s hardly more than a boy, he doesn’t give me orders. Besides, if he wanted this wench so bad, why’d he not take her ‘imself?”

“You know why.” The sandy-haired one quit rowing as the logboat approached the side of the vessel still docked in the bay. “Now unless you want to lose your hands, I suggest you keep ‘em to yourself.”

“I’m not scared of that kid,” Tattoos grumbled.

“You should be,” The other said.

More men gathered up above, tossed down a few ropes, and hoisted the boat from the water. As your kidnappers dismounted, they made the mistake of letting go of you for a moment. Seeing your opportunity, you spat the rag from your mouth and made a mad attempt to fling yourself over the side.

“Oh, no ye’ don’t, Miss.”

You screeched as one of the pirates caught you by the hair and tossed you onto the deck. Dazed, you caught a glimpse of Sandy-hair glaring at his companion, shaking his head. Filthy pirates stood around you in a loose circle. Some seemed almost scared to approach though you couldn’t fathom why. Tattoos leaned down and yanked you up by your hair again. He shoved you back and you stumbled over the hem of your skirt, collapsing onto the set of stairs leading to the helm. Your head smacked against the banister, splitting the skin at your hairline. Snatching your arms, Tattoos flipped you over, pinning your wrists over your head. You cried out in terror and he brandished the knife in his hand at your throat, shrugging.

“I get my turn, an’ he can have his,” The horrid man said with a cruel sneer. He moved the knife to slice open your dress. A sob escaped your lips and you squeezed your eyes shut.

To your surprise, there came a strangled gasp and that man’s terrible weight was lifted off you.

There was no tearing of fabric, no slicing of your skin, and your breasts weren’t suddenly exposed to the elements. Yet, you didn’t dare open your eyes.

Something crunched.

It was an awful, sickening, wet sound and morbid curiosity demanded you identify the cause. Timidly, you looked up.

Before you, Tattoos hung, suspended in the air by the throat. His spine bent backward in an unnatural way and his eyes, wide and unfocused, stared into the void, his jaw gaped limply, frozen in a silent scream. Your eyes flicked to the man standing behind him - a far too familiar brunette with a far too familiar voice.

“If you want to play the game, mate,” That silken voice advised. “You have to abide by the rules.”

You didn’t see him draw a blade as he dropped your assailant to the ground, but you caught a white flash of something that must have been a handle as he drove the weapon into the other man’s chest, plunging it straight through his heart. You stared at the corpse in front of you, far too utterly overwhelmed to be sure what you should be feeling at the sight of it.

“I hope the rest of you take that as a bloody warning,” Your savior said casually, kicking the body aside with a sneer. He cast his eyes to you. “Hello again.”

Your eyes flitted from him to the corpse, chest heaving with unsteady breaths. You were far too terrified to respond. The pirate smirked.

“Gefðu frúnni herbergið mitt,” He said in a tone like honey and thorns. Then he turned and two men parted from the crowd, stalking toward you. You shrieked again but couldn’t escape as they dragged you around the stairs and tossed you through a doorway. You pushed yourself up on your hands as the door slammed shut.

Taking stalk of your surroundings, the terror in your gut only crept up your throat like bile. Pieces of furniture were scattered around. An armchair, a bookshelf, a desk, and a bed. They’d locked you in the captain's quarters. Now, you may have been frightened out of your bloody mind but if these filthy pirates thought you were going to be a good little captive then they had another thing coming.

You needed a weapon.

Dashing over to the desk, you tossed aside an empty bottle of rum and rummaged through a pile of maps. You found nothing, so you moved on to the drawers. You had no idea what to make of the obscene quantity of random odds and ends contained therein but you didn’t particularly care to form an opinion. It wasn’t until you reached the back of the very last drawer that you found a silver letter opener. The decorative piece was by no means ideal, but the tip was relatively pointy so you considered that a victory.

Now all you could do was wait and see what fate had in store.

***

"What a pretty thing, you are." You spoke softly to the brilliant red creature as you gently stroked its breathtakingly vibrant coat. The fur was soft between your fingers and the animal didn't seem to mind your touch. "Are you a prisoner here too?"

The fox, of course, did not answer. Hours had gone by since your captors had locked you in there and you had come across the captain’s pet rather quickly. Skittish at first, it had grown used to you by now. A faint smile tempted your lips as you moved your hand, scratching behind the animal's ears. It seemed to like that, judging by the purr of contentment it made.

"Do you like him?"

The voice from behind startled you, and subsequently the poor fox in your arms. It sprung from your hands and growled but the man behind you whistled sharply and it quieted before skulking over to where he stood in the doorway. He watched you expectantly and you supposed it best you indulge him.

"He is a very handsome beast," You replied, straightening your spine in an effort to appear strong. Your legs were shaking. "Remarkably tame."

The boy smiled. It was a kind, disarming smile, but you knew better. The devil lurked behind those beautiful brown eyes.

"Yes, I'm rather fond of him as well," He said, pushing off the doorframe and stepping further into the room. "I found Draugr injured in a field, having been nearly torn apart by wild dogs." He pushed the door shut and you stiffened. You tried to conceal your horror but failed, taking a step back instinctively. The pirate noticed but didn't comment, instead gesturing toward the fox that now playfully nipped at his heels. "He must like you though. He won't permit anyone else on this ship to touch him."

"Likely because you're all filthy brigands," You snipped. Only a moment later did you think better of it. Perhaps insulting him wasn't the wisest course of action.

To your surprise, the boy laughed, shaking his head. "I can see how you might think that," He said. He crossed to the far wall and sat down in an armchair, gesturing for you to take a seat on the magnificent four-poster bed. His bed. You froze.

Should you obey him? It was a risk either way. He was strong - a sailor - he could so easily overpower you. Had you not witnessed him cut down one of his own men, not hours before?

He sighed, eyes seeming strangely soft. "Calm yourself, darling. Fair though you may be, I've no vile intentions towards you," He assured, tone gentle and understanding. You decided it might be safe to sit on the bed.

"Then why have you taken me?" You demanded curling your knees into your chest. "My father is a merchant, but that's no great ransom. I am of no significant value to you. Why can you not bring me home?"

He watched you for a moment. There was something… regrettable in his eyes. The smile he offered was kind, if not forced.

"Not all treasure is silver and gold, love." His gaze flicked subtly to the gash torn across your hairline. The boy's lips pressed together and he shifted uncomfortably, forcing his eyes away. "You are of… other value to me," He admitted quietly.

Your eyes narrowed.

"And what value would that be, precisely?" You hissed, pushing yourself further away from him.

Oddly enough, the pirate seemed to wince. His hand reached for you in a fleeting gesture, but he thought better of it. Instead, he spread them appeasingly - as if to show you he was no threat. At his feet, Draugr yipped and sprung onto his lap.

"I assure you, it's not what you're thinking," He said. Again, those soft brown eyes sought out your wound. "However, I would not deceive you…" He wet his lips and stared, transfixed at the last transient drops of scarlet that seeped from the cut. There was a distinct want in his gaze - a tormented and voracious hunger - like an animal on the brink of starvation. "I'm afraid what I desire of you is not a particularly pleasant affair."

The manner in which he eyed you drove your heart to increasing concern. Its rapid beating pounded in your ears as you curled tighter around yourself.

"If you are attempting to console me, then your effort is considerably lacking," You huffed. The air in the cabin, hot and stiff, only served to magnify your dire situation.

He sighed, closing his eyes briefly as though something pained him. "You needn't be afraid of me, darling." He offered the words almost pleadingly. "I'm not going to hurt you, yet. Please understand, this isn't something I want to do and I wish I could offer you a choice, but I can't. I-I need you and I'll explain everything. You're frightened, and rightfully so, but I promise you can trust me."

You laughed, though it was rather hysterical. "What reason have I to trust you? I don't even know your name! How can I trust someone who refuses to explain what they want from me?"

He chuckled slightly and smiled. Then he stood, prompting Draugr to bound off his lap.

The pirate's gait was graceful as he crossed the room, as graceful as any nobleman though you knew better than to be disarmed by such things. The predator he kept as a pet served as an apt reminder - a fox is as handsome and as graceful as it is deadly.

You didn't scramble away as he drew closer, though you certainly remained ready to, watching with leery eyes as he stopped and offered you his hand. You eyed it and scowled.

"Come now," He implored. "I'm not going to hurt you yet."

He said that as though it should be comforting. You took his hand anyway and he smiled - a rakish thing - as he lifted it to his lips. His kiss was gentle; it made your stomach turn and your skin crawl.

"My name is Kol," He said. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Your lips curled with disgust. "Don't pretend as though you care for me," You spat.

He tilted his head. "But I do care for you, darling. You intrigue me, and for that, I can only apologize. Tell me, what can I do to put you at ease?"

"You can start by explaining yourself," You growled, wrenching your hand from his grip. He let go willingly. His smile shouldn't have been so endearing.

He nodded. "Very well." He turned and walked to one of the cabin's stained glass windows, silent for a moment. "Do you believe in magic, Miss L/N?" Kol asked, gazing out over the ocean.

You raised a brow, unimpressed. "What?"

"Magic," He repeated, still watching the rolling waves through the window. The sun was going down, casting the world in hues of gold. "You know… spells, witchcraft, curses and the like. Do you believe in them?" His tone wasn't patronizing but you knew he must have been mocking you. Just because you had been sheltered and raised in comfort didn't mean you were childish. At any rate, he couldn't have been much older than you were.

Difficult as it was, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "I don't make a habit of dwelling on ghost stories," You replied, dryly. "Especially those spoken of by pirates."

Kol turned back to you, a quirk of amusement alight on his lips. "Is that so?" He wondered. "Pardon me for assuming, but that's not how things seemed last night."

So he did remember.

You frowned and crossed your arms, choosing to watch Draugr instead of his owner. You wanted to squirm under that heavy, ravenous gaze.

"Sailor's tales entertain me." You shrugged. "Nothing more."

"That's very practical of you, darling," He commended. You didn't like that smirk dancing in his eyes. "Might I be allowed to entertain you then?"

"I would prefer a straight answer," You muttered. He just flashed you a grin and hopped up to sit on a table.

"Long ago," He began, voice filled with a pleasant wistful nostalgia. "There was a boy blessed with magic. He spent his days in near constant mischief, indulging in every impulse and always pushing the boundaries in search of the next thrill. He reveled in his existence - in the rush and the power in his veins and the connection to the earth, sea, sky." The light in his eyes faded, melting into something bitter. Something cold and dead. "Then, one night, his little brother was mauled by a wolf."

"Oh." That was not where you'd thought this story was headed. Kol's eyes flicked to yours and you could see pain in them. Pain and anger.

"Fearing the loss of her other children, the boy's mother - a powerful witch herself - offered him and his siblings wine laced with blood and in so doing, she cast upon them a terrible curse. This magic, dark and powerful, dictated that her children might become immortal - they would be stronger, faster, unaging, and able to influence the thoughts and actions of others. But first-" Reaching for a cup of wine left on the table, he paused to take a sip. His eyes never left your own. You watched them grow dark as the sun outside sank beneath the window's view, casting his face in shadow. He sat the goblet down again and when he spoke, his tone was hollow and empty.

"-First they would have to die."

Now, you didn't necessarily want to encourage him, but you couldn't help being curious. His story reeled you in and held you captivated, much as before in the tavern.

"And did they?" You prompted when he failed to continue. "Die, I mean?"

Kol smiled but there was nothing in it.

"Yes." He nodded. "Their own father slaughtered them one by one that very night."

His eyes reminded you of a storm.

"And the boy?" You asked hesitantly.

Kol took a deep breath and tilted his head, watching you with consideration.

"When the boy awoke, he discovered himself changed. He was just as fast and strong as I described; however, to his horror, he realized he had been cut off from his magic - from the only thing that had ever made him happy. He felt helpless, terrified, empty, and alone." He paused and his eyes drifted down to his hands. "But above all, he felt hungry. See, his mother's curse had come with an unintended side effect - an insatiable hunger and an unquenchable thirst, unlike anything this boy or his siblings had ever known. Yet, the more they tried to appease this hunger, the more they came to realize something far more ominous.

"No drink could seem to satisfy, and any food put past their lips was to them naught but ash. They craved something else…"

He seemed to wait for you to inquire further, but your lips remained sealed. You didn't want to know. Kol tilted his head and raised a brow, smirking challengingly.

"What? Not curious to know more?"

You swallowed thickly and shook your head. That smirk of his stretched unnaturally wide - almost painfully.

He got up from his perch on the table and strolled back toward you, looking down at you for a moment before taking a seat by your side. You flinched away from him as he faced you. He was too close. Hidden within the folds of your skirt, you clutched the silver letter opener tight.

"Magic is a fickle thing," Kol continued. Draugr circled his feet affectionately and he smiled down at his pet. "Created by human blood they were... Now they would forever consume it. Unable to live for they could not die, neither yet were they dead; they were truly cursed."

"This boy had never before denied himself any fleeting impulse nor desire of his heart and that terrible hunger clawed at him like nothing else. He could not control it. Thus instead of seeking to help or understand him, his siblings thought it best to subdue their brother using a magical dagger that could put him to sleep for decades. Again and again, they betrayed him, until one day, he could bear it no more. He fled.

"In hopes of remaining hidden from his siblings, the boy joined the crew of a pirate ship. On one of his rare trips ashore to quench what little thirst he could, he met by chance a beautiful maiden with the most enticing blood he'd ever come across. After having spent so long on the brink of starvation, he simply couldn't resist."

Kol met your eyes. Something in them begged for understanding but you were far too unsettled to offer anything more than suspicion.

"That's an excellent tale, Kol." You drew yourself further away from him. "But I fail to see what it has to do with me."

The pirate bit his lip and looked away. "I know not what it is, but something within you is different," He whispered. "And I want to taste it."

Your heart nearly stopped. His story - this tale of magic - couldn't be real. He was just toying with you. He had to be.

"I'm not one to believe in curses, pirate," You reiterated, glaring coolly. "Only selfish, cruel men."

The boy chuckled darkly. "I am cruel, usually," He hummed, running a hand through his thick, silk-like curls. "I'm as selfish as they come - a hedonist, truly. Yet, for whatever reason, I don't want to hurt you." He laughed, shaking his head. "It's baffling…"

"Empty words." You pressed your lips together and shook your head, fighting back tears. "You're going to hurt me anyway," You accused venomously.

Kol sighed and shifted closer as though you sought his comfort, but you didn't. Your back was pressed against the headboard - you simply couldn't shy away any further.

"No, love. I don't want to hurt you… just-just taste you." Reaching out, he moved one hand to cup your cheek, and the other he settled on your knee. Your eyes flicked down briefly and your heart skipped. When you lifted your eyes again, you found he was already studying your reaction. An innocent, almost shy smile spread across his lips.

"Forgive me if I'm not comforted." Your eyes drifted down to his hand again and you swallowed thickly as fear rose within your throat, threatening to choke you. No man had ever touched you so intimately. Was your skin crawling, or were those sparks beneath his fingertips?

Kol tilted his head knowingly, yet his eyes were soft. He moved in closer, drawing far nearer to you than could be considered proper. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, he dragged his hand higher, resting it on your upper thigh. Your breath hitched in your throat, and each intake of air shuddered through you as the fear in your stomach mixed with something else. The boy tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

"See? You don't have to despise me," He claimed. "One often has to pick a flower to admire its beauty, and like a flower, I can care for you - treasure you. Anything your heart desires, you may have just as long as I may keep you."

There was something distinctly sweet about the way Kol carefully began to dig his fingers into your soft flesh. The strength of his grip increased gradually, blooming into something not painful but exquisite. Had you not known better, you would have thought his hand was burning you for all the heat that seemed to seep through your skirts. A shiver ran down your spine and you simply couldn't hold back a tiny whimper as it escaped your lips. The boy grinned, stroking your cheek.

You shook your head, tightening your grip on your makeshift weapon. "You're sick!" You hissed.

He smiled mournfully. "I'm cursed."

You clenched your teeth. "I don't believe you." Withdrawing the letter opener from the folds of your dress, you cried out and flung yourself forward plunging its dull silver into his chest with all your might. The blade sank in up to its handle.

Kol flinched.

That was it. Nothing more than a flinch.

Raising a brow, the monster glanced down at the silver metal protruding from his midsection and frowned.

"I was wondering where that went," He commented idly. Then, he grabbed the handle and pulled it out. The blade glistened with red and your heart sank as you watched the hole in his chest stitch itself back together. His eyes flicked between you and the bloodied, useless trinket in his hand. "Now I must admit - I'm curious, love. After killing me, what exactly did you plan on doing next?"

You fell back in shock. Tumbling in a heap onto the floor, you pushed yourself back up onto your hands, staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.

"That's…" You shook your head, trembling. "That's not possible."

The monster smirked, seemingly relishing in your dread. "You had best start believing in ghost stories, darling," He said. "I'm afraid you're in one."

All thoughts of escape were ripped from your mind and you watched in horror as your captor's angelic countenance transformed into a devil's. Kol's eyes filled with an unholy blackness that seemed to draw the last remaining beams of sunlight from the chamber, plunging you into candle-lit gloom. Demonic veins spread across his cheeks like the creeping vines of a poisonous tree and his lips peeled back, revealing wicked razor-sharp fangs.

All you could do was shriek in sheer uncomprehending terror. Scrambling to get away from that thing, you stumbled to your feet and made a mad dash for the door. It wasn't that you thought you could make it. You knew you couldn't. You just needed to try.

A pair of arms wound around your waist and you screamed again. Not in surprise but simply with dread.

"Shhhh… Come now, sweetheart, it's alright," Kol's soft voice assured you. With a rush of air, you found yourself straddling his lap. You cried out and tried to throw yourself off of him but his arms felt as firm as prison bars.

"No." You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. "No, no, no. Please. Please let me go. Don't hurt me. Please?"

You felt him wince but it did you no good. He just pulled you closer, weaving a hand into your hair.

"No, no. Shhh… I'm sorry, love." He held you as though you were something precious, rocking back and forth in a vain attempt to somehow comfort you. "I know you're frightened and I'm so sorry I'm scaring you, but you're going to be alright. It's all going to be alright."

"No! NO! You're gonna hurt me!" You sobbed. "Please don't hurt me! Please?"

"I have to, I'm sorry." Kol pressed a kiss to your cheek and his lips were soft and warm, but that couldn't make up for what he was about to do. He pulled away just enough to brush your hair off your neck. "I promise I'll be gentle with you, darling."

Hopelessness overtook you, ripping open a dark empty pit in your heart. It seemed as though the only choice you had left was to accept your fate.

"A-alright," You whimpered, releasing your tears to stream down your cheeks. Kol froze.

"Darling, are you-" He pulled back, searching your face with confusion. "Are you not angry with me?"

No. You were too scared to be angry.

You shook your head, eyes screwed shut. "I'm scared," You choked out. "I'm just scared."

That monster of a boy - you weren't sure what he was - cursed, pulling you into a tight embrace. "I know," He said. "I know you are and I'm sorry. But we're too far from shore now and I need you."

You pressed your face into his well-worn jacket, inhaling deeply. He smelled like black powder and ocean waves. "You said you would give me anything?" You sniffed.

His hand wove itself deeper into your hair, tugging on the roots as his arm around your waist constricted ever tighter, pressing you almost painfully against him. "Yes," He promised. "Yes, anything. What do you need?"

You couldn't believe what you were going to ask, but you didn't want to die feeling so empty.

"Could you hold me for a moment?" You whispered, voice crumbling to dust. The least you could ask for was a moment of peace before you died. Kol wasn't exactly your first choice for comfort but he was one of a finite number available. Though for whatever reason, be it obsession or madness, Kol at the very least seemed to care for your feelings somewhat.

He hesitated. "You want me to hold you?"

Not particularly. However, you would rather his arms around you over anyone else's on this accursed vessel. So you nodded.

"Alright," He breathed. You could feel him smiling. "Come here, darling."

Kol laid back, settling down among the pillows as he carried you with him. You were quite astonished at how gently he handled you - almost as though you were made of glass. Urging you to lay on top of him, he wrapped his arms firmly around your back and nuzzled his cheek against your hair affectionately.

You fisted his jacket and cried, pretending for a moment that the arms which held you didn't belong to the monster about to end your life. You pretended this was just a dream. You pretended you would see your father again. It was almost pleasant. Kol was warm. Every now and then, he would kiss your cheek, whispering sweet nothings in a language you didn't understand. Your tears ran dry eventually. Kol took to nosing along your jaw and throat while you sobbed quietly. It wasn't long before his lips began making the same rounds. Kol's butterfly kisses stopped on your pulse, lingering there and morphing into something a little less chaste. You'd never been kissed in such a way before. Maybe you liked it, maybe you didn't. What did it matter? You figured your time was up.

"Are you ready, sweet thing?" He murmured into your skin.

You shook your head. "No." You weren't ready to die. "But that doesn't matter."

He kissed your cheek as though that could replace an apology. "Just relax," He muttered soothingly. "Try to go to sleep." His hand rubbed circles into your back and it wasn't comforting but it was better than nothing at all.

"Will I wake up?" You wondered. After all, you'd always hoped to die in your sleep. There were worse ways to go.

"You will," He said. It didn't really matter if he was lying or not, you wouldn't believe him anyway.

"Kol?"

"Hmm?"

"I may not know what breed of devil you are but you're a horrid, filthy pirate and I hate you."

Kol brushed a strand of hair from your face with a thin smile, before leaning down to kiss your neck again.

"I know."

You closed your eyes and felt yourself drifting. The sea as your cradle rocked you to sleep and Kol spent the next little while combing his fingers through your hair. You weren't quite asleep, but you were close to it when you felt his teeth scrape your throat.

He bit down slowly, gently, pulling you closer as he sank his teeth deeper and deeper into your flesh. Horrid, burning pain engulfed your senses and you whimpered feebly. He stroked your side soothingly in response. A content purr-like noise rumbled in his chest as he drank down mouthful after mouthful of your blood. Kol moaned a little at the taste and bit down harder, seeming as though he couldn't get enough. It hurt and you discovered you had a few more tears to cry.

It wasn't too long before the groaning of the ship's timbers began to dull and you could no longer hear the spray of the sea. Your heart began to slow down more than it should. Despite being surrounded by Kol's pleasant warmth, you felt cold. You were dying.

So it surprised you when Kol's fangs retracted, tugging painfully on the broken skin. He was breathing heavily, though you couldn't see his face - too weak to open your eyes.

"Bloody hell, darling. What are you?" His voice was muffled and far away. Your thoughts were too muted with pain to do you much good so you just hummed and stretched in response.

Shaking his head, he leaned down again and began lapping sweetly at the still weeping marks, cleaning away any excess blood. Finally, he licked the wounds closed and sat up, drawing you into his lap where he held you as though you meant the world to him.

Wiping away the stray tear that had slipped down your cheek from his assault, the boy sighed and pressed the faintest kiss to your forehead.

"See, love?" He said. There was an awful lot of hope in his voice. His tone was thin - pleading almost, as his arms around you tightened. He drew a hand across your stomach, petting you slow and soft. "See? I-I didn't hurt you." You would disagree with that statement wholeheartedly if only you hadn't been so thoroughly drained. "I didn't hurt you. I can control it." Oddly enough, his words seemed to be aimed more toward convincing himself. "I didn't hurt you. I didn't hurt you."

***

It was a problem, you thought, that you could no longer discern how you felt about your situation. The days weren’t bad. As a matter of fact, they were rather pleasant. Though you had been warned away from the water so strictly your entire life, it didn’t take you long to fall in love with the sea and its ever-changing beauty. You spent your days perched on the prow of the ship, watching the waves in their intricate dance. No crew member ever dared bother you again; however, you did come into friendly acquaintance with a sailor who was both deaf and mute. You learned that his name was Bora’Dain and he spoke using a system of hand gestures that apparently only Kol could understand. The two of them were rather close and seemed to enjoy insulting one another any time one of them turned their back. Although you quickly learned that attempting to play cards with either of them was an ill-fated maneuver, Bora’Dain readily made up for his frustrating winning streak by teaching you the art of knife-throwing. Your days were something to look forward to.

The nights were not quite so pleasant. Whatever unknown factor it was that made your blood so appealing, wasn’t something Kol could resist for long. While he was bright and full of laughter during the day, come eventide that wicked appetite of his curse returned. His gaze would linger and his hands begin to tremble the longer he tried to fight it. By nightfall, you always seemed to find yourself in his arms and he could never bring himself to let go. Thus, each night ended quite similarly - with his fangs buried in your neck, greedily consuming your very essence and a promise that he wasn’t going to do it again the next day. It was a promise he couldn’t keep.

The mornings, however, were the worst. You would awake at dawn only to find yourself in excruciating, feverish agony. Turns out, the human body isn’t meant to undergo extreme blood loss. You were so terribly ill each and every morning. It would be hours before you regained strength enough to stand. You weren’t sure if it was a curse or a blessing that you weren’t alone. Every morning, you would wake cradled in Kol’s arms and he would hold you as you cried.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” You wept into his shirt one morning. Your entire body ached, your veins felt dry, your limbs were weak and useless, and your pulse and breathing were labored. “It hurts.”

Kol sighed and pulled you in closer, taking care not to aggravate your damaged flesh. “I took too much again, didn’t I?” You just tugged weakly on his shirt in response. He groaned and pressed a kiss to your hair. “I wish I could heal you.”

It was somewhat comforting to know that he was sincere in that statement at least. He had tried to feed you his blood before with disastrous results. For whatever reason, your body had rejected it. You’d nearly died. It was odd, according to Kol, aside from outrageously tempting blood, you were by all intents and purposes, entirely human. Yet, though meager, your body did seem to have its own form of increased healing - approximately a third the rate of any other human. Your body wouldn’t allow itself to be healed by any outside force, and that brought its own set of problems.

Namely, the scars.

Kol had decorated you with them. Dozens of pale raised marks stippled your neck, shoulders, back, wrists, and - lately - your thighs. All of the bites hurt, though some places were more sensitive than others. Kol just couldn’t seem to differentiate lust from bloodlust at times and it seemed he’d found a new favorite spot when you’d allowed him to start biting your inner thighs. He'd spent weeks begging for your permission and you thought that if you appeased him then perhaps he might mutilate you less often. He didn't. If anything, he'd continuously grown more eager, biting into your sensitive thighs with increasing vigor. Those wounds stung horribly, but the boy had become even more affectionate toward you once he’d had his fill. It was a trade-off you could stand.

“You must tire of hearing this, but I am striving to do better," He said.

"It feels as though you're getting worse," You whimpered. Kol's hand, stroking your thigh, brushed over one of his bites from the night before and you winced. He murmured an apology and pulled his hand away. Leaning down, he pressed his forehead to yours.

"I can't help it. You taste better the more I take," He admitted. "I don't know what you are, but it's beginning to concern me."

"Kol?" You opened your eyes, letting as much of your pain bleed into your voice as possible. "If you care about me, please just take me home?"

He closed his eyes. "Please don't ask me to do that, love."

"If you care about me, you'll take me home," You repeated firmly.

"I can't." The boy shook his head. "I can't let you go."

That was it, then.

"I don't want to die." You shuddered and coughed.

He sat up, lifting you into his lap to rest against his chest. "You're not going to die."

"You're going to kill me."

"No!" He buried his face in your neck. "No, I won't."

"Then let me go home," You pressed.

"If I take you back, I will slaughter your entire town," Kol growled. "My siblings will find and dagger me once more. Is that what you want?"

"No." You coughed again, groaning. "But you're killing me."

"No!" He ground out. "I'm not killing you. You're alright. I wouldn't do something like that to you. I know when to stop. I'm not killing you." Perhaps he could convince himself, but not so you.

"Then can you please just give me one day to rest?" You begged. "I'll feed you tomorrow, but please - I just need one day."

He took a deep breath, shaking his head. "If there were anything else to eat out here, I would take it. In a heartbeat. But there isn't," He stressed. "So, unless you're keeping a map to several fully manned vessels in that corset of yours - I rather doubt it - then the best we can do is find out what the bloody hell you are."

You blinked.

As though someone had lit a candle in your mind, a plan began to form. A horrid, disgusting, desperate plan. The sort of scheme one comes up with after spending too much time around pirates.

"Well, it's not in my corset but I think I may have what you're looking for."

Kol looked up, raising a brow. "I beg your pardon?"

With the weight of his gaze now settled entirely on you, the words seemed to tangle together in your mouth. You glanced away, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.

"M-my father," You stammered.

"What about him?" Kol demanded, resting his hand on your hip.

"He's a-a merchant - a prominent one. Recently, he was given charge over a fleet of ships," You told him.

Kol's eyes narrowed and a smirk tugged at his lips. "You know where they are."

You nodded. "I know where they are."

For a moment, you feared he wouldn't believe you - that he would think you were bluffing. Then that smirk broadened into a grin and he squeezed your hip gently.

"Very well, darling. What sort of cargo are these ships carrying?"

Your heart stuttered. You didn't know. "What?"

"Alas, I have to pay my men with something." He shrugged.

If he was looking for anything in particular then you were screwed, but you would say just about anything he wanted to hear if it would save your life. "Erm, anything, I suppose. Gold, silver, fine cloth, even slaves on occasion."

His eyes darkened. "People aren't cargo, love."

You swallowed thickly. "Then do something about that."

"Very well." He grinned and you yelped in surprise as he swept you into his arms and stood. "Shall we?"

Kol was a rather whimsical being, thus his moods could change on a dime. When this kind, playful side of him came out, it almost made you forget about the monster that bit you every night. You had learned to enjoy his better moods when possible, so you allowed yourself to giggle as he kissed your cheek and brought you out on deck.

"Gents! We have a heading!"

"Headin'?" A sandy haired sailor shouted, shielding his face from the sun. "Whot headin'?"

"Excellent query." Kol glanced down at you. "What's the heading, my love?"

You didn't yet have the strength to shout over the din. "North by Northeast," You replied.

"North by Northeast!" He declared, turning to ascend the steps leading up to the helm. "We sail toward fame, fortune, and a bloody five course meal!"

Within a few hours, whatever healing your body possessed seemed to work its magic. You were up and feeling much better - excited even. If you were lucky and found one of your father's ships within the day, then Kol wouldn't need to feed on you that night. That thought alone brought you much-needed relief and surprisingly enough, you didn't feel the least amount of guilt pertaining to what you'd done to obtain said relief.

"You know what would be bloody useful?" You called over your shoulder. Kol, Bora'Dain, and a few other crew mates sat behind you, playing cards on a makeshift table they'd brought out. Draugr was out and about on deck today, having caught several rats, he was quite content to curl up in your lap and present his ears for scratching. You happily obliged your favorite crew member.

The day was by no means bright nor cloudless. Morning mists had lingered over the water and the sun remained hidden behind layers of cloud. You were greatful for a respite from the heat; however, the choppy waves which agitated the sea hadn't made for a pleasant recovery from your usual sickness. Even through the fog, you were still hunting your father's ships but there was a lot of ocean to cross in the meantime.

"A way to prevent 'Dain from being such an insufferable cheat?" Kol guessed, scowling at the cards in his hand.

"Dis from you's, eh? Belligerent cad, you are." Ho-Jon scoffed. At hardly fourteen years of age, the black-haired boy was the youngest soul on board - a street urchin Kol had picked up in Singapore.

The entire crew, you had noticed, was a rather unorthodox bunch. It would seem Kol had collected for himself an assemblage of outcasts. Every brand of pariah, vagabond, or persona non grata was welcomed aboard, so long as they adhered to Kol's rules - from what you had observed, the pirate abided by a strict moral code which might have been useful to you, if only you could puzzle out what it was. However, for pirates, you had to admit, Kol's crew wasn't bad. For the most part, they treated you with more respect than plenty of the noblemen your father had encouraged you to meet.

"I'm the captain here -" Kol smirked. Despite his rank, he never treated his crew as lesser than himself, save in jest. "-cheating's my right."

Ho-Jon rolled his eyes.

"Actually, I was going to say a compass," You continued. "One that points directly toward whatever you want most."

"That would be convenient," Kol agreed.

Bora'Dain snorted and Kol glanced at him. The deaf man made a few gestures and he scoffed, leaning back in his chair.

"And how exactly do you figure that?"

Bora'Dain smirked but apparently felt no need to explain himself.

"He say compass useless?" Ho-Jon guessed. His accent was odd - like a dozen dialects rolled into one and though his grammar was somewhat lacking, the boy's knowledge of curses and profanity was quite extensive. Then again, he had no impairments in understanding Kol's impressive vernacular, so perhaps he just enjoyed his near-unintelligible slang.

"That he did." Kol nodded, crossing his arms. "Specifically in my hands." The black haired kid tossed his head back, laughing. Kol raised a brow. "Care to elaborate?"

"Well in'a you's hands, compass would on'a poin' du one t'ing." Ho-Jon shrugged and pointed in your direction. "Her!"

Kol's eyes flicked to yours and your cheeks flushed with heat. He didn't like you that way, you were sure. He just liked your blood. He turned his eyes back to their game, gesturing for Ho-Jon to take his turn.

"Mate, I think you best keep in mind the notion that it is within my power to keel-haul you at any time," He mused casually.

"Eh." The fourteen year old waved a hand. "Don'a think you do it."

"You need to broaden your imagination," Kol hummed.

The kid grinned. "There's is always broads in me imagination," He announced proudly.

You snorted. "And here I was sure you'd never even met a lass," You teased.

"Met you!" He countered.

"Yes, however, seeing as I was kidnapped, I don't count," You pointed out.

"Commandeered," Kol corrected, grinning wryly. "Kidnapped makes it sound rather fiendish."

"Stealing a lady from her bed is, by definition, rather fiendish," You said. "Not to mention you lot are, after all, pirates?"

Kol smirked. "Alas, the lady has a point."

"Of course I do," You quipped. "That comes naturally from being the only civilized person aboard this ship."

Ho-Jon gasped, playfully affronted. "You's a callin' me a heathen?"

"How uneducated of you, love," Kol said, shaking his head. "I'm the heathen, he's naught but your common knave."

"So it's true what Bora'Dain told me?" You asked. "In your mortal life, you were a Viking?"

Kol shot the African man a reproachful look. "I told you that in confidence, mate."

Bora'Dain shrugged and made a few gestures, one of which appeared rather rude.

"I don't believe that's any of your business," Kol said, voice clipped. Whatever was said must have upset him somewhat. The deaf man pointed at you, made another series of hand signs and scowled. You supposed that meant it was a negative statement. "Well if that be the case, you can resign your opinions to yourself." He snapped. A capricious smirk spread across his lips. "Oh, that's right, you do that anyway."

Bora'Dain didn't seem very amused by his retort, but the vampire paid him no further heed.

"Is it true?" You asked, swinging your legs back and forth. "Are you five hundred years old, or not?"

You could see Kol's jaw working. "Its true," He ground out. Then, trying to make light of it - "I've been sailing these seas since old 'Dain here was but a wee lad."

"So I suppose you've seen your fair share of Krakens then?" You asked, attempting to steer the conversation away from whatever had put him in such a foul mood.

"Krakens, love," He said, correcting your pronunciation. "And I'd like to think so, along with other manifestations of terrors from the deep." He blinked. "Speaking of which…" The easygoing smirk slipped from his face and he paused, tilting his head as if listening to something. A moment later, Kol stiffened.

"Please tell me I'm the only one who hears that."

"What?" Ho-Jon laughed, tossing his cards down on the table. "Tha' Imma winnin'?"

Kol ignored him. Standing, he crossed the deck to lean out over the railing, squinting into the watery goom. You noticed then that the lingering fog had thickened considerably through the last twenty minutes or so and the waves felt increasingly tumultuous.

"Ho-Jon, cover your ears," Kol mumbled, turning away from the railing with a weary expression.

The boy frowned. "You wha'?"

"Do as I say. Now!" Kol ordered. "Go wake your brother, and lock yourselves in my cabin. Do not come out until I come to get you, understand?"

Ho-Jon nodded sharply and scarpered off, disappearing below deck.

"Kol?" You caught his arm. "What's going on?"

"Sirens," He answered grimly. He turned back to the remaining pirates, shouting. "SIRENS!"

Moments later, you heard them.

A song crested over the lapping of waves, an ethereal chorus in harmony with the winds. Dozens of voices layered over each other, their dulcet tones rich and enchanting, enticing you to listen. The words ones you knew well - sweet as a lullaby. Casting your eyes down to the water, you were surprised to meet the gaze of a beautiful young woman with vibrant red hair and eyes the color of the icebergs to the north.

"Come, little one," She entreated. "Sing with us."

You couldn't quite say what made you do so.

Early one summer’s morning, I carelessly did stray

Down by the Walls of Whapping, where I met a sailor gay

“Draw them to the edge, little one,” The woman in the water said. “We can free thee from these fiends.” Her sultry voice was somehow friendly.

“You misunderstand,” You answered, frowning. “These are my friends.”

A pitying, almost motherly expression dawned across the woman’s face. “The dark one hurts thee, child,” She said. “We’ve heard thou cryest in the night and have come to avenge thy pain. Draw him hither, young one. Draw him to the edge.”

Was this ethereal creature right? Could you be free of him?

Conversing with a young lass, who would seem to be in pain

Saying: 'William, when you go, I fear, you'll nare be seen again.'

“How?” You breathed.

The siren tilted her head, petal-like lips pinching in a frown. “Knowest not thy power? Thy mother didst thou nary seek?”

You shook your head. “I never knew my mother. All my life, my father kept me sequestered from the sea.”

In the water, the woman smiled. Her teeth were rather sharp. “Thou holdest in thy hands the winds and the waves and the hearts of men. All shall obey thy will, daughter of the deep, for thou art as one of us.”

“I don’t want to be,” You worried. “I merely wish to go home.”

“Be free of the monster,” She said in lieu of an answer. “The blood he’s consumed will endear him to thee. Come now, draw him to the edge. Give him to us.”

“What will you do to him?” You wondered.

“We would drown him!” A chorus of voices trilled in delight. “Drag him to the depths and lay his corpse on the seafloor to rest!”

You blinked, brows furrowing. Was that what you truly wanted? Did you genuinely desire that Kol should spend eternity drowning for what he’d done to you?

All doubts were ripped from your mind as your eyes, seemingly of their own accord, sought Kol from among the chaos. He tossed a keg of black powder into the waves and looked up. When his gaze met yours, a power within you quivered with excitement. The singing grew louder, empressing on something in your very soul, compelling you to join in. You reached for him.

His hair it does in ringlets hang, his eyes as black as coal.

My happiness attend him, wherever he may go.

Kol’s eyes narrowed and he shook his head, as if trying to clear away an unpleasant thought. He began backing away. You reached for him again.

“Wait,” You whispered. He stopped, seeming unable to tear his eyes away.

“What is this?” He demanded. You shouldn’t have been able to hear him over the singing and the chaos, but it was as though your minds were connected. “What are you doing?”

“Come here.” You smiled as he obeyed. The boy took a few steps toward you and his expression crumpled, contorting in agony.

“Stop it!”

You feigned a hurt expression. “I thought you favored me.” Your tone seemed to twist, managing to sound profoundly broken, though you hardly had to try. ”Please hold me?” You were, in a way, a predator offering herself up as bait. “I want you,” You lied.

“No, you don’t.” He shook his head, yet drew closer all the same. “You hate me.”

“No,” You said. “It’s not your fault.” He craved so desperately to hear those words.

“You’re lying,” The boy hissed. You could see the conflict in his soft brown eyes.

“Kol, please?”

From Tower Hill to Blackwall, I will wander, weep, and moan

All for my jolly sailor until he sails home.

He was in your arms within a heartbeat, curling around you and holding you tight.

Humming along with the spirits in the water you could almost feel what your voice was doing to them - to him. The song washed over him in waves, preying upon every weakness, harnessing every vulnerability in order to better weave itself into a cruel illusion, perfectly tailored to the boy in your arms.

Kiss him… A soft yet demanding voice whispered in your mind. It was less of a voice and more of a craving - a dark, twisted, salacious desire that welled up within you as soon as he was close enough. You weren’t sure where it came from or how you knew what to do. All you knew was that you wanted to pull that boy under and watch as his own lust starved him of air. You needed to pull Kol in close and tease him with his most desperate desire until it burned so fierce as to consume him completely, driving him to madness. This was what you were, you realized.

A siren.

So you kissed him and he took to it like a man possessed. His arms circled your waist and he pressed into you, devouring your lips with frantic desperation, as though he knew this was a mere fabrication and yet was determined to bask in its warmth as much as he could. A starving animal that boy was, gluttonous for affection even if it were naught but a mirage. Kol begged you for entrance but you denied him, refusing to gratify his desire. Clutching onto his shirt, you leaned back…

And toppled into the ocean.

Kol hardly seemed to notice. It was pathetic, really. He was drowning - or going to - and he would rather kiss you than save himself. Because in this beautifully perverse fantasy, you loved him in spite of all he’d done and Kol wanted that, he wanted it more than anything. He was willing to die in pursuit of a delusion. Pathetic.

Kol moaned into your mouth and you swallowed each one like candy, drawing in water as well but that didn't matter. His heart rate began to slow and that terrible power inside you fluttered, squealing in delight. He was dying and it was ecstasy.

A bright orange flash struck your closed eyes moments before a massive, echoing blast shot through your body. The sirens in the water surrounding you shrieked and scattered in the wake of the explosion. You cried out in pain, lungs filling with water, and watched as Kol’s eyes fluttered open. Without a second thought, Kol grabbed your arm and towed you toward sunlight. You shot past the surface, gasping and coughing. Pain pulsed white-hot in your gut and you were vaguely aware of rope being tossed toward you before you slipped into blackness.

When you awoke, you were met with the sight of Ho-Jon’s face mere inches away from your own. You startled awake and punched him.

He stumbled back, holding a hand to his cheek. “Oh, I be’a seen how it is!” The kid huffed. “You’s just a’tryin’ to kill everybody now, eh?!”

You gasped. “Bloody hell, Ho-Jon! I’m so sorry!”

“S’okay, your high-demoness…ness.” He waved you off. “Don’t eat me and we’ll call it a draw!”

Your brows shot up. “I beg your pardon?”

The black-haired boy shrugged. “Not my pardon you’s be neeedin’ to beg.” The door opened behind him and Ho-Jon sent you an almost sympathetic look before turning to leave, muttering something about the cost of watching pretty women sleep.

Kol moved to stand at the foot of the bed and you pushed yourself upright, though you were sure no posture could conceal just how terrified of him you were. His eyes were freezing obsidian pits and to stare into them was to surely bear witness to the very depths of hell. You'd tried to kill him. He folded his arms and you could see his jaw working as he studied every inch of you.

"Now, now, darling," He muttered almost to himself. "What am I going to do with you?"

Swallowing thickly, you scrambled as far away from him as you could as he rounded to sit on the bed. He didn't look at you, instead opting to tug on a loose string unraveling from the once pristine silken sheets, now irreparably stained with your blood.

"Are you aware," He began casually. "just how unfathomably lucky you are that I can't truly drown? Another minute or two and you would have been just as dead as whatever poor bastard you were attempting to suffocate." The pirate chuckled but there was no humor in it. "See, the unexpected siren attack is precisely why I prefer to keep a deaf man aboard. If not for Bora'Dain, I think both of us would be rather uncomfortable right about now."

You bit your lip and averted your gaze, electing to remain silent. Kol watched you expectantly for a moment, then sighed. Within the blink of an eye, his hand shot out and caught your ankle in an iron grip, wrenching you back toward him. Your breath hitched as he lowered himself to hover domineeringly over you, resting his weight on one arm. You could taste hints of rum on his breath - he'd been drinking.

"So, my love…" Kol mused, cold eyes flicking over your face. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

You shook your head. "I-I don't know," You whispered.

He raised a brow. "You don't know?" Kol slipped his hand beneath your skirts and slowly began crawling it up your leg. A shiver raced down your spine and you swallowed thickly.

"No," You replied, breathless. Some long-dormant part of your brain told you that he was very dangerous at this moment. He was a predator and you were nothing.

"Really?" Kol's hand reached your thigh and he brushed his thumb over the freshest of the bite marks. You hissed in pain and he smirked. "So you didn't knowingly employ a hereditary seduction charm in an ill-conceived attempt to send me to the depths?" He questioned. You opened your mouth to reply but he cut you off, stroking his bite warningly. It had only just healed over - still so sore. "Don't lie to me, darling. Otherwise, I may be forced to do something unpleasant."

You pressed your lips together, blinking away tears. "Please don't get mad."

"I won't," He hummed, smiling in a way that was almost kind. "So long as you tell me the truth." His fingers probed around your sensitive spot where his teeth had left bruises, kneading the flesh a little until he found the site that made you whine. "Ah there it is," He breathed, sickly satisfied. "Go ahead, pet."

"I wasn't trying to drag you down," You told him. "I swear, I didn't know I could do that to you."

Kol sighed. "Oh, sweetheart." He shook his head. "I thought I told you not to lie."

"N-no! I didn't-"

His fingers dug into your thigh, clenching painfully around the wound, pulling the skin tight. You cried out, straining to get away but his grip on your leg was stronger than a vice.

"I'm not lying!" You begged, tears streaming down your face. "I didn't realize what was happening! I give you my word!"

"I see." He muttered, maintaining that excruciating pressure. "When you pulled us into the ocean, did you wish for me to die?" You whimpered, shaking your head as you braced for pain. "Darling…" Your torturer practically sang. "The truth, if you please."

"Wait, don't-" Kol tightened his grip, bruising your flesh and the taught, freshly healed skin split apart. You shrieked as hot, crisp agony rent through you with savage talons. Kol released your thigh but didn't remove his hand, allowing your slick, crimson blood to seep from the reopened wounds anew. All the while his face remained impassive - emotionless - as he swept his thumb back and forth over the riven flesh, painting your skin red.

"It was for but one moment," You wept softly. "I didn't know what was happening, I swear to you. I-I couldn't stop."

Kol inhaled sharply and you flinched, yet no pain came. "You did this on instinct?" He asked in hardly a whisper.

You nodded, still sobbing. "Yes."

"You couldn't control it?"

"No," You rasped. "It made me want to. I couldn't stop."

"And that's the truth?"

"Yes." Finally, you dared to open your eyes. Kol's expression was no longer cold, his eyes held regret. He nodded and pressed his forehead to yours.

"You have my sincerest apologies, love. Forgive me for leaping to conclusions." Then he sat up and removed his hand from your skirts. Blood coated his fingers. The boy stared at it for a moment before lapping it up ravenously.

"I should have known you were a bloody siren," He laughed, sucking the last drops from his fingers. "Though, I suppose that not knowing is precisely the point."

Thoroughly exhausted, you sighed, allowing yourself to relax though only slightly. "I understand not what this means," You mumbled rather weakly. "What am I?"

He shrugged and laid back, facing you with a playful smile teasing his lips and you wished it could last. You liked the gentle, attentive, flirtatious side of him - the way he treated you as though your smile were the most valuable thing in all the world. Yet when he grew angry, that boy disappeared and a wildly possessive, bloodthirsty beast took control before you had time to react.

The rapid change was nothing new. Kol's moods reminded you of the sea itself, every bit as whimsical, changing, and untamable as the roiling currents. He could torture you one moment and dry your tears the next. In fact, that was exactly what he did. Kol reached out and swept his thumb over your cheek, tenderly wiping away your pain with the same hand that had mutilated your thigh.

"If I had to guess," He hummed consideringly. "I'd wager you were a hybrid - a human with siren blood - presumably from your mother's side seeing as you never knew her. Your father is human, yes?" You nodded hesitantly and Kol frowned. "And he kept this from you all your life?"

"I suppose he did." You nodded, feeling empty. Timidly, you met his gaze. "Might you explain to me what it all means?"

"Of course." He smiled and took your hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to the back. "What would you like to know?"

You bit your lip, cheeks reddening as you watched Kol tenderly kiss each of your fingertips before nuzzling into your palm. It was as though he were two different people.

Innumerable questions danced in your mind, but you settled on only a few.

"Are there others like me?"

Kol shrugged, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand. "All factors considered, I'm inclined to answer no. It's quite possible you may be the only of your kind in the world."

"How come?" You frowned. "Why do I alone exist?"

"I think that's rather simple, actually. " He smirked. "Full sirens may survive on land for naught but a few hours; thus, I believe your answer would be fornication." He chuckled as your blush deepened. "Although, I must admit that I am extremely curious as to how your father managed it."

You raised a brow, taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I may not possess any personal experience in the matter, but…" He trailed off as if deep in thought. "You know, I do believe it would be rather difficult to properly bed a woman when she would rather drag you to the bottom of the ocean to pick your bones clean of flesh…" Kol flashed you a raffish grin.

Your cheeks burned and you gaped at him, floundering for something to say. "Wh- Excuse me?"

"Basic attributes of a siren, love," Kol reasoned, casually. "Shall I make a list? Uncontrollable desire to drag a man to the depths? Yes. Body and voice crafted by the gods? Absolutely. Baleful hunger for flesh of man?" He shot you a look.

"Of course not!" You exclaimed reproachfully.

Kol rolled his eyes. "Obviously you don't openly display all of them, fringing on your hybrid status, but I'd bet they're in there somewhere…"

"No!"

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," He teased, grinning. "If you're ever feeling the persuasion, I know a few places that serve the best-"

"Kol!" You laughed and elbowed him in the side. You weren't sure what possessed you to do it when he'd been so cruel mere minutes before but it felt natural. "I am not a cannibal!"

"How unfortunate. That could have been fun."

You giggled for a moment and sighed. "All that said, what is a siren… truly?" You inquired. That wasn't the question you really wanted to ask but it was the one you spoke. Kol drew in a breath and pressed his lips together. His soft brown eyes drifted to your hand, studying every detail as he took his time mulling over his answer.

"Sirens are, first and foremost, shape-shifters, darling." He began. "Their appearance depends entirely upon those who behold them as they take on whatever form an individual finds supremely enticing. A siren's powers of seduction are ambient, contained not only in one's voice but in their entire essense - down to the tiniest detail."

"Do you think me beautiful?" You found yourself wondering.

"Yes." The boy flung his other arm around your waist, drawing you in closer. "Effortlessly you enchant me, darling. Your eyes, your skin, your hair… your blood." His eyes closed and he smiled. Not a smirk, or a threatening flash of teeth, but a real boyish grin. "Yes. Yes, the scent of it, the taste of it, the timbre of your heartbeat. All of it. So perfectly delectable." His nose nudged the heel of your palm and Kol groaned longingly. Then he tugged on your hand a little more and planted his lips over the throbbing pulse inside your wrist. He hummed contentedly and your breath hitched as Kol took a special interest in tracing the veins in your wrist with his tongue as though they formed the most interesting treasure map in the world.

"O-Oh." You couldn't understand why you liked it so much when he was affectionate with you.

Now thoroughly distracted, you didn't want to disturb him and instead silently watched that boy lick your skin sweetly, so sweetly. For once, the action was absent of the constant hunger that seemed to control him. With eyes closed and expression docile, he reminded you of an affectionate pup. You tried to pretend as though you didn't like it.

"Is this magic the reason you relish hurting me so much?" You wondered, tone soft and intentionally idle. Kol froze and opened his eyes, looking at you as if you had run him through on a cutlass.

"You think I enjoy hurting you?" He asked softly.

"Why else would you be so eager to torture me each night?"

"No, love." He sighed and offered you a rueful smile. "That's not me," Kol promised. "Euphoria from pain will always be my curse and I can no more control it than you can control your desire to lure a man beneath the waves."

You nodded. Oddly enough, you understood. The need to draw Kol to the water was still there, even now. It wasn't something you actively thought about and it didn't matter if it made sense or not. You just wanted it.

"I don't want to hurt you," Kol continued, fixing you with those fathomless eyes. You fought the urge to shrink from beneath them. "In fact, I would do just the opposite if only you would let me. I don't know if it's strictly your nature or mine, but please understand, love, that it is my deepest and most fervent desire to pleasure you until the only word you can manage to pass between those perfect lips is my name."

"O-oh…" Well, his words certainly left little room for debate. You flushed and tried to move further away from him, but Kol reached out and took your hand, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

"Alas, I will wait until that is what you want," He promised. "For now, I'll settle for ransacking your father's ships." He got up and held out his hand to help you. "Come along, darling. We can't be far behind."

As it turned out, you weren't very far behind your father's ships at all. A morbid sense of relief washed over you as you caught sight of white sails on the horizon. In spite of Kol’s reassurances, you knew you couldn’t trust him. You would have to look out for yourself.

Upon beginning your approach, you realized the only flaw in your plan. Your father’s merchant vessel was spectacularly well-armed - prepared to fight off any attempt at piracy. The Maria-Luna, as it was called, had easily twice the cannons of the ship you stood on - fondly named The Hanged Man’s Deceit. Furthermore and to wit, Kol was currently running a skeleton crew as honor among thieves is evidently a hard thing to come by - a rather untoward situation from where you stood, taking count of the veritable army of hired soldiers you could see roaming on deck. 12 on 50 didn’t strike you as the best of the odds.

“I think we might need more guns,” You commented, lowering the spyglass you’d borrowed from Bora’Dain. Beside you, Ho-Jon threw his head back and laughed. “What?” You demanded. He turned to you with a lazy grin.

“Oh, we’a got some tin’ betta’ den guns,” He said. You opened your mouth to ask but a voice from behind you stole your attention.

“Gentlemen!” Kol stood on the railing of the ship’s prow, grinning like a hungry fox. “Empty your pockets and take stock of the rum, I expect you ready to board on my signal!” His eyes found yours and he winked, stripping off his jacket before tossing it to you. “Hold this for me, would you?” Then he lept from the ship and dove beneath the waves.

“What the bloody hell’s he think he’s doing?” You exclaimed, shrugging the well-worn coat over your shoulders.

“Just’a wait, M’lady,” The black-haired boy smirked. Your eyes narrowed as you caught a glimpse of a dark silhouette darting through the water. Moments later, you raised Bora’Dain’s spyglass just in time to watch him climb out of the ocean and onto the Maria-Luna’s rear balcony. Shaking the water from his hair, he looked almost directly at you and proffered a mock salute before slipping inside. It was about two minutes later that the Hanged Man’s Deceit drew close enough for you to hear the screaming. Your face grew pale.

“H-he’s killing them,” You stammered. “He’s killing them all!”

Ho-Jon snorted. “Whaddid’ya think he was gonna do?”

You shook your head. “I-I don’t-” You hadn’t thought this plan through before proposing it. These ships belonged to your father. It was entirely possible for someone you knew to be aboard!

The kid shot you an odd look. “Sorry to say, M’lady but you’s should’a be happy, no? You survive dis’ long ‘cuz him hold back. Others dead way faster den you’s,” He said solemnly.

You spun to face him. “That bastard’s kidnapped other women like me?”

“Nah!” He waved a hand. “They’s all done asked to come. Only lasted two, maybe three days though.” The kid made a face. “Annoyin’ strumpets, they was.”

“I see,” You said, pursing your lips.

“Not you’s though!” He added cheerfully. “You’s, uh… kind, no? You’s say: ‘G’mornin, Ho-Jon!’ And ‘G’night, Ho-Jon!’ And ‘Perhaps don’a stick yer foot in da cannon, Ho-Jon!’" He grinned, displaying gapped teeth. "You’s nice.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder playfully. “That’s called being decent. You should try it sometime.”

Ho-Jon shrugged. “Nev’a learned. No’a nice du me budd’a rats.” You could hear the scars in his voice. “Kol done pull’a me outta’ da gutters in Singapore - owe him me life. Sometimes it hard though.”

“Why?” You asked.

The kid offered you a wry smile. “Don’ much like a hearin’ ya’ cry, M’lady.”

Touched, you wrapped an arm around him and pressed a kiss to his forehead even though he was nearly as tall as you. “Ho-Jon?” You said, smiling. “Let it never be said that you are anything less than a gentleman.”

The fourteen-year-old blushed. “Danka’, M’lady,” He mumbled. You ruffled his hair and he quickly shuffled off.

Evidently, Kol’s interpretation of giving a signal was to fire a chain shot from one of the Maria-Luna’s own cannons into the ship’s mast. Bora’Dain, who was a the helm, then skillfully provided to maneuver the Hanged Mans Deceit into position alongside the Maria-Luna. Corpses of soldiers and sailors alike - dozens of them - littered the deck and Kol stood, cavalier as ever, among them. He was soaked with blood and you couldn’t be sure how much was from others and how much was his own, seeing as his once white shirt now bore several vibrantly red holes.

“Greetings, rat bastards!” He spread his hands, grinning boyishly as the crew boarded. “May my spoils be yours!”

Whoops and hollers sounded from the crew as they went about looting the ship while you remained where you were. Guilt rendered your stomach uneasy and you didn’t feel much like rooting through the pockets of cadavers for loose change. More disturbing was just how little blood remained around them all.

Kol’s eyes lit up as he turned and caught sight of you. Before you could blink, he was standing in front of you, hands seizing your hips as he lifted you into the air, twirling you around. You weren’t sure whether to laugh or scream and you were still trying to process that decision by the time he set you back on your feet. He pulled you into another embrace immediately, tangling his fingers in your hair.

You raised a brow, frowning. “Kol? Are you ill?”

He shook his head. “Not at all, darling,” He said, burying his face in your hair. “No, I feel good. I-I’m full. Yes, I am completely full.” His arms around you tightened. “I haven’t felt this good in ages.”

A breath of relief that you’d been holding for weeks finally passed your lips and you relaxed, allowing yourself to melt into him. “How wonderful,” You breathed.

Kol kissed your shoulder, then your neck, then your jaw. “You don’t have to hate me anymore,” He whispered.

“Maybe not.”

For a while things were good. You were, honestly, happy. Your days were spent among friends, learning to swash-buckle and sail. Your nights were spent in comfort, cradled in the arms of a man who adored you. Your mornings were spent in bliss, filled with soft words, loving touches, and warm kisses that made your heart melt. All you had to do was provide the locations of your father's ships. As long as you did that - as long as Kol was fed - he didn't have to hurt you.

All was well until you directed him to the wrong ship. All was well until you spotted a familiar countenance among the bodies.

"Father?" You whispered, peering past the morning mist.

He wasn't supposed to be there.

"FATHER!"

He hated sailing. The motion of the sea made him sick. He owned the boats but he never accompanied them.

"No! No, no, no!"

His glassy eyes stared off into the distance, dead and unfeeling. His jacket was torn and stained with blood. You knelt by his side and clasped his cold, limp hands, screaming for him to wake up.

He didn't.

You couldn't be responsible for this - he wasn't supposed to be there.

No.

No, you weren't the one responsible.

A bloody pirate stood behind you. He was the one to blame. He was the one who had kidnapped you from your home. He was the one who tortured you - drove you to desperation. He was the one who had torn your father's throat apart. He was the one at fault.

Closing your father's dead eyes, slowly you stood.

"You. Did. This."

"Darling, I-"

"Darling?" You hissed. "Darling?" You spun around, seething with cold, violent hatred. "You cruel, capricious, selfish bastard! You break in to my home, steal me from my bed, feed on my blood for days, torture me, threaten me, kill my father - and you have the audacity to call me 'darling'?" You didn't care if you upset him - didn't care if he killed you. What more could you possibly lose? "Pretty words can't heal a knife's wretched work."

"I didn't know it was him."

You laughed, loud and bitter like waves crashing against razor-sharp rocks. "Do you genuinely think that earns you clemency?"

He didn't even have the decency to feign regret.

"I never intended for this to happen," He said.

"I CARE NOT FOR YOUR INTENTIONS!"

The wind picked up, swirling in a cyclone around you, driven by your rage and grief. Sea and wind would obey your will - they belonged to you. That was something he could not steal.

Tearing your way to the prow of the ship, you peered down into the water and screamed. Tears dripped from your cheeks, diffusing in the infinite ocean.

"Where are you?" You seethed, grip crushing the wooden railing until it splintered. "Damn it all, where are you?! I know you're there! I feel you watching! You said you would avenge me, now where are you?!"

Voices filtered up from the deep, bringing comfort and power.

"We art here for thee, little one. Fear not, for thine sisters surround thee."

"You said you would help me."

"Thy pain is strong, child. What desirest thou?"

"A rhythm of destruction," You answered. "And a watery grave."

"Be it as thou sayest, but such power demands a price. Thy sisters hunger, child. Wilt thou deny us their meat?"

"No."

You could feel the excitement of your sisters in the water. Their voices trilled with glee. As their melody began to rise over the waves, you offered it your soul.

My sailor hath betrayed me

His lapse I must abhor

Kol had hurt you for the last time. Now he would feel your pain. They would all feel your pain.

He did bite that hand which fed him

I'll suffer here no more

The clouds overhead swirled and blackened like a man with a rotten wound. The sea began to churn and toss, reaching - reaching upward to gently smother the sailors in your grasp and drag you all down to twilight depths. The winds howled and bellowed, proclaiming your hatred with the lungs of gods.

If the sea could know my anguish

A foul tempest wouldst be born.

Fear filled that monster's eyes but your own had twisted into a mirror. He would find no mercy there.

For hell, a fury hath no

Quite like a woman's scorn.

"Y/N, stop this."

The stinging scent of ozone saturated the air and you inhaled it deeply. "I'm afraid I don't want to, Kol."

A crack of lightning split the sky and the heavens opened. Slicing, driving rain poured down from above.

"You know you do. You're angry and you've got plenty of reason to be but you need to stop," He said. "You need to control this."

"No." You smiled, teeth sharper than they'd been before. "I shan't need to do anything for you, ever again."

"You'll damn us all!"

"Yes," You laughed, hair flowing in the wind as though you might flood the whole world. "Yes, damn you, Kol. I would damn you all to Davy Jones locker!"

"You can't kill me," Kol claimed. "Not like this."

"You're right." Your voice became as the wind - as the very storm itself. "But my pain will end and you will be lost to my sisters - forever drowning in the ocean's deepest pit until the end of time. Your suffering will dwarf my own."

"Stop this, Y/N, now!" He commanded. "Or I will!"

You spread your hands. "You can't."

Kol snarled and rushed at you.

"Don't touch me!"

The wind as your hand swept him aside, sending the monster careening into the rigging. A battle cry arose from your sisters in the ocean and whips of braided kelp and pearl lashed him down, coiling around his wrists, neck, and ankles.

A mighty gale heaved against the timbers of the ship, causing them to creak and groan. Waves assaulted the deck from every side, sending water pouring through the cracks.

This world could cease its turning dance

I'd not see, nor hear, nor know

Somewhere, a terrified voice shouted- "MAELSTROM!"

Yet, all was to you but numb satisfaction. A stroke of lightning lit the sky and rent the mast in twain. Walls of water crashed over the sides and the sheer force of the winds sent cast iron guns toppling, shredding the deck as though it were parchment.

For my heart hath been fragmented

By that jolly sailor bold

With one last flash of light, the Hanged Man's Deceit was swallowed up by the sea.

Tagging: @yn-ymn-yln@r13mar@rootbeerfaygo @iiskittles16ii @fandomrulesall-blog @dark-night-sky-99 @railingsofsorrow@apolloroid@thatweirdoleigh@misswe03@eat-cake@felinegrate@trikigirl271@cute-freak27@fayeatheart@archangelslollipop @aonungs-tsahik @sleepneverheardofher @space-princess-charming@heartbreakgrill@whatsupb18@enchantedlandcoffee@trikigirl271@kleinegamerin @slutforkol

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analogwriting · 3 months

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Childhood Crush

Chapter 21: Lithium

Killer x gn!reader word count: 2k a/n: got another 241 for y'all next

“You really should rest, y/n.” You look up from your clipboard at Wire who was currently in the doorway with a deep frown on his face, clearly worried about you.

You were currently on the ship Momonosuke had provided for you. After the vivre card had burst into flames and you were able to move again, there was a small sliver of paper left in the palm of your hand. You had placed it into a small glass box and used it that way. You couldn’t risk losing the paper, especially knowing that something terrible had happened to your brother.

You were a wreck the whole way there. Countless scenarios racked your brain with the possibilities of what happened. The amount of stress you had was off the charts. You couldn’t eat, you couldn’t sleep. What happened? Your brother was obviously alive but what about everyone else? How much longer would your brother be alive? Just how far was he? Just what happened?

The vivre card didn’t burn anymore, but it was glowing on the edges. That meant he was alive, but he wasn’t doing well. He was hanging on by a thread. You only had his vivre card though, so everyone else, you had no idea how they were. You had no idea who was alive, who was dead - which you hoped to fuck was no one. You were so stressed, you wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up with an ulcer or ten. You had no idea what happened, no idea his condition. Just a tiny piece of paper that you hoped wouldn’t burn anymore.

Luckily, it didn’t.

You ended up finding them on some small island. You had laid anchor and went into the jungle-like part of the island. You were basically sprinting through the foliage. Did they get attacked by a wild animal? No, that couldn’t be it. Your brother wouldn’t be overpowered by something as simple as wildlife.

You had reached a clearing where you saw everyone looking worse for wear. When they saw you, their faces lit up as if they had seen a god.

Though you were focused on something else. You were focused on the two that were currently looking like they were dead on the ground. Eustass and Killer. The only tell-tale signs that they were still alive was your brother’s vivre card and the unnatural twist of a smile that was on Killer’s face. You had found out when a SMILE fruit user died, their smile finally disappeared.

You had never been so relieved to see that haunting expression.

You immediately went to work patching the two of them up and stabilizing them before moving on to everyone else. Then, you loaded everyone up on your ship and set sail. It was safer than being sitting ducks on an island. Besides, based on what everyone told you with what happened, the island was close to where the battle was, so feeling the scene was a good idea. People wouldn’t know your ship either, so hopefully people left you alone.

“Y/n?” You were pulled out of your thoughts once more as Wire spoke again. “I’m fine,” you said and he just looked at you, folding his arms.

“We all know you’re pants at lying, just like the captain.” You made a face and sighed. He was right - you hadn’t slept in days, you weren’t eating. You were just so worried. Even before you found them, you hardly ate or slept.

Wire sighed, shaking his head. “It’s like a watchpot. Just cause you’re sitting here watching over them, doesn’t mean they’re gonna heal any faster. You also can’t properly take care of them if you’re not in the right state of mind,” he said. You looked at him, narrowing your eyes and frowning. You folded your arms, pouting a little bit. He was right, but you didn’t want to admit it. Damn, he was starting to sound like you. When did he start getting all wise?

You looked over to where the two were currently resting. It had been a week at this point. They’ve both been out the whole time with no signs of waking up. Their injuries were healing, luckily enough. It took many hours of operating to really make sure they were stable. The amount of broken bones and stitching you had to do - if you never did it again, it’d be too soon.

“I…I feel like if I stop to catch my breath, I might never breathe again,” you mumbled. You were just scared that if you rested now, you wouldn’t be able to find the motivation to get back up again.

“You’re a good doctor, y/n. They’re stable. It’s not going to hurt if you get some sleep. We’ll take turns keeping an eye on them.” Wire looked at you with a face full of concern. This wasn’t the first time he had tried to get you to sleep and you knew he was going to just keep pestering.

With a sigh, you stood up, looking at your clipboard once more.

“Just because you look at it again, doesn’t mean it’s going to change, y/n.” You glared at the man across from you. One of the cons of growing up with someone on the crew meant that he could see right through you. “We’ll come and get you if anything changes. Promise.”

You looked at him a moment longer before sighing. “Fucking-” You tossed the clipboard on to the desk and sighed. “Fine!” You threw your hands in the air and marched out of the room. Due to your lack of sleep, you were a bit more irritable even with Wire’s smooth way of speaking. You headed down the hallway and to your room.

You didn’t think you’d get any sleep but the moment your head hit the pillow, it was lights out.

When you slowly came to, you noticed you were having a hard time moving. You were also very warm. It took you a moment to wake up and when you did, you realized you weren’t the only one in your bed. In fact, just about everyone was in bed with you or around you.

You blinked in confusion, trying to figure out what was going on. It was dark outside, the moon peeking through the pothole, illuminating the room slightly. You let your eyes adjust before trying to move. You were currently in a mess of limbs. You realized that Dive was curled up into a ball into you as she usually did, but you also had Heat wrapped around you. You also happened to realize your cheeks were damp. Were you crying in your sleep?

You carefully slipped out of bed, not wanting to wake up the two in bed with you. Usually, you were a light sleeper. Were you really so tired that you didn’t notice everyone joined you for bedtime? Everyone else was scattered about the room, various snores and patterns of breathing filling up the room. Sure, the ship wasn’t spacious like the Victoria Punk had been, but there were plenty of other places to sleep.

After some careful footwork, you made it out of the bedroom and back down the hallway. You needed to check on your patients. You paused in the doorway, seeing Wire sitting at the desk stitching up something. He looked up as he saw you. “You’re awake.”

“What are you working on?”

“Eh, just working on something to pass the time.”

“How long was I out?”

“I’d say about ten hours.”

Your eyes nearly fell out of your skull with how wide your eyes became. Ten hours? You couldn’t remember the last time you slept that long in one sitting! You usually tossed and turned, getting four or five hours at most. But ten? That was insane!

“It makes sense considering you’ve been running on fumes the last few days. I can only imagine that you also didn’t sleep on the way here either. I’m surprised you didn’t keel over already or out for longer.”

You felt your face heat up at Wire’s words. Had you really been that bad? “Yes. You were that bad and you looked like a walking corpse.” You just glared at him. Alright, smart ass.

“I just woke up, can you ease up a little?” You ran a hand through your hair and grumbled. Wire just smiled at you, standing up. He walked over to you, putting a hand on your shoulder as he passed. “Well, I’m going to get some shut eye now. Make sure you eat something, okay?”

You yawned and nodded. “I will.” Honestly, you’d probably end up forgetting.

You quickly went to work, checking on the two unconscious men. You needed to take their vitals and run some tests. The vivre card was no longer smoldering and even seemed to regain some of its paper; and that smile was still on Killer’s face.

This was honestly the fucking worst. Two of the most important people in your life on death’s door and you were the last line of defense. You were up against the grim reaper himself. Things looked promising, but you knew better. You knew that shit could hit the fan at any moment and they could no longer be with you, but you weren’t about to roll over and let it happen either. You’d wrestle with the grim reaper himself if you had to. Hell, you’d probably trade your own life.

“Why did you have to go and pick a fight with Shanks again, dammit,” you mumbled, looking at your brother. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose and groaning.

You heard something come from your brother and every fiber of your being froze. You looked over at him slowly, eyes widened. You noticed his hands twitching slightly as well as his features. In an instant, you were at his side. You moved some of his hair out of his face to get a better look at him.

You watched as his face scrunched up. “Bigs?” he mumbled and you felt your eyes start tearing up. “Tungsten?” Your voice cracked halfway through the word, but you didn’t care. All that mattered right now was the fact that your brother had said something.

All the fear of what happened was hitting you at once. The tears started falling and showed no signs of stopping. You sniffled, wiping your tears away; well, attempting to. You watched as Eustass slowly opened his eyes, they seemed to struggle to adjust for a moment before fully opening. They weren’t particularly focused on anything before they fell on your face.

“Bigs?” he repeated, a bit louder this time. You nodded, smiling through your tears. “I’m here, mo laochain,” you said softly, using the old nickname you had given him a long time ago. The one in your native tongue. A tired smirk spread across his features as he let his eyes close again.

“C‘Mon, Bigs,” he mumbled. “‘M not little.” He let out a single scoff. It was a small noise, but you smiled all the same. That’s what he had told you one day when you used the nickname. Since it had meant ‘my little hero’, he didn’t want to be associated with being little anymore, so he had said those words. That’s when you had started calling him ‘Tungsten’ instead. Only, he’d always be your little brother. No matter how much larger he ended up being than you. He would always be little to you.

You buried your face in his chest and held him as he laid there, placing his hand on your head as he gently soothed you while you cried. Much like you had done for him so long ago.

#the last bit is what made me cry the other day bc im just an emotional wreck and i miss my own brother lmfao #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #killer x reader #massacre soldier killer #killer one piece #am fics #cc

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subjugatingfeminists · 4 days

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Introduction

I’m approaching 2,000 followers, so I figured I should add a more detailed introduction and maybe a mission statement of sorts 😏 First of all, this is an NSFW 18+ tumblr. That’s a hard rule. The block button is always there. Now you may be wondering things like, what is this tumblr about and how sexist is he really? Or, why does this guy come off like such a smartass and put so much effort into writing captions for porn reposts?

I’ll explain my thinking using the philosophy of Looney Tunes. Your typical MRA/red-pill/incel on here is Daffy Duck: loud, obnoxious, and completely lacking in self-awareness. And then there are men like me who are Bugs Bunny. If you watch closely, you’ll notice Bugs Bunny only fucks with those who have a ‘come-fuck-with-me’ vibe like Elmer Fudd. And I’m sorry to break it to you girls, but some of you are Elmer Fudd feminists. Don’t worry, it’s adorable 😘

I put effort into writing my captions because the brain really is the most important sex organ we have. Fucking each other online with our vocabularies is underrated, don’t you think? Most men on here shamelessly use their tumblr as a shorter route to women sending them titty pics like how those early explorers wanted to find the shortest possible route to Asia (guys, sorry to break it to you, but there is no true Northwest Passage on the internet). This is one of the few porn tumblrs on here that’s centered around an abstract idea: feminism versus patriarchy! It's a never-ending cultural 'tug of war' and this kink is for those with enough intellect to appreciate irony. Because ironically, this blog only works if you girls continue being feminists! However, it also means you have to put your feminism in a box and push it aside for a moment if you want to open up and consider why the pictures and themes of my blog make your panties so damp. Don’t be shy if you want to discuss theories on why your reactions betray your beliefs. We’re all anonymous on here, so how embarrassing is it really? Okay, it is very embarrassing, but that’s what makes it exciting, right? 😉

I’ve also made quite a few pen pals on here, so feel free to throw me a message about any interesting topic outside of sex like movies, music, politics, or history. And if my blog is ever destroyed by the Tumblr gods, then you’ll be able to find it resurrected with the same exact username with a number 1 after it. I’ve reposted less in recent months from being too busy, but I plan to return to the depravity this summer. Now here comes the exciting part!

I’ve been brainstorming on writing a long-term erotica that is based around a Patriarchal America setting, in which three feminist college students have three different, overlapping adventures in this new unexplored terrain. Absolutely no rights are taken away in the story, so no Handmaids Tale nonsense or any Stepford housewife robots. The story will include plenty of plot elements and themes that involve traditional gender roles, but it’s religiously secular. Since it begins with the 2028 election cycle, it will bring in real-life political dynamics and politicians, and briefly explain in the first chapter how a “Patriarchy Party” with a young charismatic JFK-esque candidate could use a unique policy position, effectively design and distribute propaganda, and take advantage of the electoral chessboard to defeat a Democrat and Republican at the polls (a certain orange-haired buffoon will be kicking and screaming out of the White House after losing his bid for a third-term). It will also have a twist ending that everyone might find surprising!

I want to brainstorm on this story with you girls! How well-written and stimulating can erotica potentially be? Can a male author write believable female characters when it involves a plot as strange as this? Let’s find out together. Bonus points if you fit the stereotypical feminist college student model and have any input. Speaking of which, I’ve received a lot of fan mail on here, but unfortunately I still have yet to come across the tumblr feminist of my dreams: the blue-haired, braless, feisty, fire-breathing gender studies major who wants to crush the patriarchy. I've never even met one in real life. Do these girls actually exist?? Maybe one day she’ll roll into my DMs and say “hi.”

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bedtimestoriesforbrokengirls · 1 month

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The Daily Dad — Mar 23, 2024

Things you might want to know:

Walmart Brings the Popular MacBook Air With the M1 Chip to Its Shelves 💭 This is interesting for two reasons. First, this is the first Mac that Walmart has tried to sell, and it looks like Apple is producing it exclusively for them. Second, $699 for an M1 Air is a fantastic deal… frankly, getting the base M1 for $300 less than a base M2 makes the M1 a no-brainer. The M1 has a slightly slower SoC and a significantly faster SSD, so I wouldn’t even consider the M2. (The M3, on the other hand… particularly a 15” model… that would be tempting.)

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alienaiver · 1 year

Text

Tales of Meet Cutes

Kozume Kenma x gn!reader

warnings: this is pretty fluffy! while reader is gender neutral, they are cosplaying male characters and are being described wearing makeup, so beware if thats not ur thing! :’) wordcount: 4.4k content: FLUFF, genderneutral reader, poc!friendly reader, canon compliant, post-timeskip, meet cute, kenma FALLS IN LOVE... HARD!, cosplayer!reader meeting kenma at a convention basically, kuroo’s the worst wingman but he swings it anyway!, kenmas a bit awkward but hes got the spirit, weirdly enough became an advertisement for the tales of games..., unbeta’d bcos i am sobbing about my con, reader cosplays mikleo from tales of zestiria and jack vessalius from pandora hearts! heres mikleo and heres jack (theres no switch release of zestiria this is just me dreaming btw </3)

notes: hihey!!! i was at a convention this weekend and have been ruDELY STRUCK by the post-con depression and its... its GIVING ME feelings. so i wrote this. im aware that conventions in japan are usually simply called ‘events’ and not cons like in the west but it felt sO UNSPECIFIC so ye. i actually do Not know what bouncing ball corp DOES... so im playing around. this is all based off of my own convention experiences but theyre obviously very local to my country so idk how it is in others <33333333 i hope u enjoy AWKWARD KENMA who stutters <3

It’s Friday afternoon and Kenma’s plugging the Nintendo Switch’s HDMI into the television’s port that the convention provided for their booth. Kuroo’s humming by their table as he places the flyers nice and orderly next to the game cases. Kenma turns to his friend, “you didn’t have to do this.” he says, flustered that Kuroo had to take a weekend off for him. Kuroo smiles, “’course I didn’t have to,” he looks knowingly at Kenma who bites his lip and stares pointedly at the floor, “but I wanted to. It’s a free convention, a weekend with my best friend plus, you’re paying me.”

It's true, Kenma has agreed to pay all of Kuroo’s meals this weekend no matter what he wanted – he knows Kuroo will seize the opportunity and ask for food he’s normally too cheap to buy himself, but Kenma’s happy to indulge.

Bouncing Ball Corp has for many years sponsored a big part of Tokyo Expo’s Game Room. It was one of the first places that properly introduced Kenma to streaming so it’s become like a silent thank you to them. The community is nice too and he knows a lot of his fans come here. For just as many years that he’s been a sponsor, they’ve tried to get him to have a booth or maybe even a panel but he’s been dodging them successfully every year. The attention seems like it’d be too much for him to handle for a whole weekend so he’s always declined and showed up stealth as a regular convention guest and enjoyed the Game Room. He was almost found out once because he beat a high score on the big center screen in front of an audience. He’s never ducked out so fast of anything in his life.

But this year’s dodging and parrying proved unsuccessful due to circumstances out of his power. You’d think running your own company would make situations like these impossible but alas. Kenma has been playing the Tales Of game series on his channel since the early beginning and after the third game, Bandai Namco reached out and they made a rather fruitful arrangement that’s served both of them well. Now, they’re releasing an anniversary Nintendo Switch release of Tales of Zestiria and wanted Kenma at the convention, advertising. He was put between a rock and a hard place when the game company reached out to the convention on his behalf – he knows they did it on purpose to render any of his moves ineffective.

So here he is, plugging the television into the massive outlet that runs through the room to accommodate every booth and game (is this even fire safety regulated?) with Kuroo by his side. One of the volunteers, a Gopher, has already stopped by multiple times to offer their assistance in setting up. Kenma thinks they might be a fan because the Game Room’s volunteer-leader has already been by upon their arrival and walked through whatever they might need from the convention and what they’ve brought themselves to the booth with him.

There’s usually not a lot of booths in the Game Room, traditionally focusing more on just having a lot of platforms and screens available with games ready to be played by the guests but it’s not uncommon to see a company or two advertise for something. At the far end, Kenma knows an indie-game developer is going to be. She’s also going to host a panel on how to make your own games and where to start. He’d like to stop by for that out of curiosity. There’s also a booth from a school where you can become a game designer who advertises for their education and tells people of the way you’ll have to go to reach that.

And then Kenma’s. He certainly feels out of place as he sets up the brand-new Switch with only one game inserted provided by Bandai Namco. He originally connects it to the Convention Center’s Wi-Fi but decides his own might be faster for the final download of the software. He hears Kuroo talk to someone behind him as he fiddles with his phone settings. The convention opens in just a few hours and he’d like to get lunch before anyone arrives. He dreads how he’ll have to be available here until at least after the dinner rush. He’ll have to eat a heavy lunch. He has a gnawing suspicion that Kuroo’s got food or snacks in his bag if the size of it is anything to go by. He hopes there’s the red bean Taiyaki that he likes in that bag. He really wants one now.

His stomach is gnawing, reminding him of that Taiyaki he imagined earlier. It’s past 7PM now and there’s been so many people that he really doesn’t want to come back tomorrow. Kuroo’s currently out, there was a tabletop event he wanted to check out and since there wasn’t that many people when he left an hour ago, he had said yes but they’re all coming back from their dinner and filling up the room again. The heat is unbearable; poor ventilation and so many machines turned on making it worse on top of the people crowding it. More than once he’s had to explain how the Switch controls work for curious guests and it’s getting repetitive in a way that he really doesn’t enjoy. Is he really an asset as a sales representative? He thinks not.

Maybe he should just take a peek in Kuroo’s bag. He probably wouldn’t mind, right?

Turns out that he definitely wouldn’t mind given that all there is in said bag is snacks that only Kenma likes and that he knows Kuroo doesn’t even the least bit pretend to enjoy. He stays crouched and rummages through it and lo behold, a red bean Taiyaki shines from the bottom of the bag. Out of the corner of his eye he spots two people nearing the booth, one whose color scheme is glaringly blue. He hears talk, someone jumping in excitement and thinks it might be an old fan of the game excited about the remake. He’s surprised by how few knows the game – it’s not that old, he keeps telling himself.

“It’s you!” a voice exclaims and with the Taiyaki hanging from his mouth, Kenma looks up with confusion and an accidental glare. Before his booth stands two people. One is dressed like an anime character from that fighting show he’s heard about and the other… Well, the other is none other than Mikleo, a character from the game he’s currently advertising. You’re standing with the game in your hands, sparkles flying from your eyes in excitement, your underlip worried between your teeth.

Kenma drops the Taiyaki from his mouth as his brain decides you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

(Luckily for him the snack lands on the bag and not on the floor. He doesn’t notice that at all though.)

“I shouldn’t buy it. I already have it at home for the PS3,” you start arguing resolutely, putting down the Switch case with much reluctance. Your friend laughs at you, “yeah that would be silly. But you were so sad about not finding any merchandise with Mikleo or Sorey on it in Dealer and Artist, so I’m glad we saw this!” you nod to your friend, eyes still glued on the game, “me too. I hope this remake will get it the revival it deserves. Maybe we’ll actually meet people who knows the game now,” you sigh before you start to continue on, “I don’t want to be late for the Tekken tournament though and if I stay here much longer, I’ll end up buying the game.” Your friend follows and you look back at the game one last time with mock sobs and an arm reached out towards it. Your friend laughs and drags you along.

Kenma stays crouched and frozen for a few more moments until Kuroo’s voice breaks through, “that cosplayer’s the character from the game, aren’t they?” his eyes are turned towards you before he looks down at Kenma, “you found the snacks?” he walks around the tables to get inside the booth, “we can go get dinner in an hour or so, is that fine?”

Kenma barely registers any of the questions that Kuroo asks him, still looking after your form. It’s easy to see where you’re going with your cosplay prop, Mikleo’s staff being his guiding star as you’re walking towards the big screen for the Tekken tournament.

Maybe he should join the tournament.

No, he definitely shouldn’t.

Right?

A palm suddenly touches Kenma’s forehead and Kuroo’s form is crouched next to him, looking only mildly concerned, “you okay? You need to get out a bit? Too many people?” the questions are many as Kuroo tries to locate what Kenma’s issue might be. It’s not a fever, so the redness in his face much be account of the crowd, Kuroo thinks. Kenma scrunches up his nose before he gets back to his feet, “I’m fine.”

Kuroo shakes his head before he picks up Kenma’s abandoned Taiyaki and gets back up, “let me know if that changes. I’d be more than happy to duck out for food early.”

Kenma reluctantly grabs the Taiyaki from Kuroo and continues to eat it in silence. Kuroo does what he does best and try to sell the game to whoever stops by even if they’re only stopping briefly. There’s an influx of people for the tournament and Kuroo manages to sell a few copies to old fans. Kenma fiddles with his water bottle as his eyes are glued towards the tournament area, hoping he’ll see you on your way out. He definitely doesn’t want to go for dinner before it ends.

Sadly, he doesn’t see you in the crowd leaving the area, all morphed together into one blob of mass. The Game Room is finally breathable again and they get ready to leave the booth, putting up the “Out for dinner, be right back!” sign and notify the Gophers that they’re leaving so they can keep an eye on the unattended booth for them.

Kuroo wanted something from the food stalls, much to Kenma’s chagrin. Kenma doesn’t particular like going out to eat but a restaurant’s volume levels is miles apart from the food halls of an anime convention’s. The line luckily isn’t long as Kenma stands with his phone, playing Valkyrie Connect on it to pass the time. Kuroo talks to the people around them in line, blending in even though this normally isn’t his crowd.

“Ah, thank you for holding the line! It was such a bother going to the bathroom in this,” you laugh, sounding out of breath as you pat your friend’s shoulder.

Kenma’s afraid to look up because out of his peripheral he spots the blue of the bottom part of Mikleo’s pants. The tail ends of your cap sways as you move around too and he feels his tongue grow a few sizes in his mouth. Kuroo continues talking with your friend who introduces you to him.

The good thing about Kuroo, that Kenma’s always appreciated, is his uncanny way of knowing when to push Kenma’s social buttons and when not to. So Kuroo simply lets the conversation flow with the two people in front of him, not letting their focus shift to Kenma in an effort to relief him.

He chances a look at you without lifting his head and you’re even more beautiful up close. Your wig seems to be of high quality and well taken care of, even after a whole day at the convention. Kenma doesn’t know a whole lot about makeup, but he can see that yours is sharp and accentuating the parts that make you resemble Mikleo the most. You’re wearing purple contacts and Kenma’s brain is fuzzy with the thought of what your real eye color must be like. Is your hair long underneath the wig? Or short? Your face seems perfectly sculptured and he has to look back down at his game so he doesn’t pass out from the way you shine.

“Whatcha want?” Kuroo suddenly asks Kenma and he realizes it’s already their turn. Kenma gulps loudly and shakes his head at Kuroo, hoping his blush isn’t too obvious. Kuroo nods at his non-verbal response before he orders two sets of bibimbap with two chicken bao buns. Kenma fumbles to get his wallet out of his pocket to pay for the food and Kuroo wordlessly takes the wallet from him so he can hand them the correct amount. “Anyways, have a great con!” Kuroo gladly tells you and your friend as they go to leave the queue and wait by the side for their order. Kenma stomps his feet mentally and looks you squarely in the face. Your smile is gentle and warm as he gets eye contact with you, “you’re a… b-beautiful.. Mikleo.” he stumbles over his words and hurries to join Kuroo by the side, feeling very childish with his breathing ragged and heart beating. He hears you making a reply behind him but he doesn’t make out the words as he focuses on Kuroo’s shoes and quieting his own heart.

When he reaches Kuroo, an unfortunate but very teasing smirk is on the bastard’s lips. “So it wasn’t a fever.” He teases, ruffling up Kenma’s hair. “Shut up,” he bites back and punches Kuroo’s stomach. Kuroo leans forward in mock pain and whispers close to Kenma’s ear with a teasing lilt, “they’re still looking at you. I think they’re flustered.”

Kenma just hits him again but dares not to look back to confirm whether or not Kuroo’s right, a pout evident on his face from Kuroo’s teasing.

Saturday morning comes around without too many hiccups and Kenma’s playing Octopath Traveler on his own Switch, precariously tipping the chair to alleviate boredom. Kuroo only teased him mildly yesterday and this morning, so he thinks he might be safe with his private crush. It’s lunch time soon and the big cosplay show is currently underway, which makes the Game Room pleasant, only a few people sitting by different platforms quietly playing games.

Kuroo’s at the cosplay show too, leaving Kenma behind. He’d offered to go together, but Kenma thinks the noises will be too much. He can always watch the show online at another date and he doesn’t technically mind manning the booth when it’s this quiet. A few fans have found out he’s here and passed by for pictures, but it hasn’t been too wild. He misses his cats even if he briefly saw them this morning.

He yawns as he finishes off one of the chapter 2 bosses, checking his battery percent as the victory screen loads. He’s still good to go for at least some time yet before he has to get up and dig the charger out of Kuroo’s bag.

“Excuse me,” your voice rings as you clear your throat and Kenma’s head whips up so fast at the sound of your voice that he loses balance and with a leg raised tall in the air, he falls backwards with a yelp that he’ll deny until the day that he passes.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” he hears the worried wobble in your tone as you shuffle around towards the little entrance to his booth but stops in front of it, unsure if you’re allowed to enter, stomping your feet anxiously. “I didn’t mean to give you such a scare, I’m sorry!”

As Kenma groans and places his Switch carefully next to him on the floor, he realizes that you’re trying to hold back a laugh at the scene in front of you, but your brows are still furrowed in worry.

You’re not Mikleo today.

He’s not sure who you are, really. He doesn’t recognize the design but then again, he hasn’t watched a lot of anime. But even if you’re in a total different outfit, with a different hair and eye color than yesterday, there’s no mistake who you are. You’re the one inflicting psychic damage on Kenma’s heart and he’s not sure how to handle this properly.

Your outfit is no less detailed or well-done than yesterday, with a blonde wig styled with a ponytail and a very exquisite-looking, long green coat lined with gold. You’re wearing a ruffled shirt underneath a black vest, knee-length boots and white pants. You must be hot in all that. He feels heat flush to his cheeks at his own staring and throws his head back to the ground, staring at the ceiling to avoid your gaze, exhaling a deep breath. You crouch down, still by the entrance to his booth and look at him, careful of the length of your ponytail – he can see now that it’s a braid. “Are you sure that you’re okay?” you ask, biting your lip in worry about how he has yet to reply to you. Maybe you shouldn’t have walked up to him at all.

Kenma tries to make his eyes meet yours but he finds that he’s not really able to. He’s frozen staring up at the ceiling, feeling his blood pump faster than he’d like. His palms are lying spread but he can feel the sweat gathering there and there’s quite a bit of saliva gathering in his mouth that he seems to have forgotten how to swallow.

“Uhm. Was it Kazu?” you look up at the ceiling to see if Kenma’s found anything interesting, “ah! Kuroo! He said you’d be here when I saw him during the show break…” there’s a pause as you seem to think about what you want to say and Kenma finds the courage to move slowly to sit up, the thought that you sought him voluntarily out replenishing his HP bar.

You follow him with your eyes, a triumphant yet tense smile on your lips at making him blush so exceedingly. He’s pretty when he blushes, you think.

“I was wondering if you’d like to… Uh, get some lunch together from the food stalls?” Kenma whips his head towards you again, his expression more constipated than positive and you raise your arms in alarm with an apologetic smile, “y-you don’t have to of course! Kuroo just suggested that you might be hungry and well… I am too, but my friend didn’t want to miss the award ceremony so I thought… maybe… you’d like to? We could talk about the Tales of games, if you’d like?”

Kenma nods and looks away to regain control of his voice, “I’d like to, let me just close up here before we leave,” he says and a new excitement rises in him from being able to speak a whole sentence without stuttering to you. He chances a look at you he feels like he shouldn’t have because the smile that adorns your features is absolutely breath-taking and Kenma feels his heart stutter at brightness in front of him. You move to get up and dust off your thighs before reaching out to him, “need a hand?”

The walk to the food stalls isn’t as awkward as Kenma feared it’d be with his newfound inability to compose proper sentences. You let the conversation flow freely and naturally, filling in when his answers are stunted. You’re so calm and patient that Kenma finds himself opening up more naturally as you reach the stalls, taking a walk through the area to figure out what you’d like. Kenma also learns that you’re dressed as a character from Pandora Hearts today, a character named Jack. “Don’t get the curry,” you warn in a whisper-voice and lean in close to continue what Kenma supposes is gossip but his heart is beating so loud in his ears he barely hears why you issued such a warning in the first place. He simply nods and trots along, hands buried deep in his hoodie’s pockets.

You settle on the food stall that sells pizza slices. It’s a small food truck with a pizza oven inside that Kenma’s frankly fascinated by. There’s not a lot of options that he likes on their menu and he feels embarrassed to order something where half of the ingredients needs to be taken off in front of you but he would also like to be able to eat said food in front of you.

When it’s your turn in the line, Kenma motions for you to go first and as he hears your order, his mind immediately relaxes – he’s not the only one with special requests to remove certain ingredients. As it turns out, you end up wanting the same exact pizza as him, so he taps your shoulder and quickly asks if you want to change it from two separate slices and just share a regular sized pizza. Your eyes shine at his question and you nod excitedly before turning towards the cook on the other side who happily takes the new order.

You’re seated in front of each other with the pizza between you, the conversation flowing naturally and freely between games. “Have you ever played Fire Emblem?” Kenma asks through a bite of pizza and you hum through your chewing, “not yet. I only recently got my hands on my own Switch and that’s my first Nintendo console so I think it’ll take me a while to rack up my arsenal,” you laugh and Kenma nods, “you could always watch a stream of it?” he tentatively ask and you shake your head and put down your slice of pizza to take a sip of your drink, “I can’t really concentrate on streams… they’re kind of boring,” you admit with a sheepish laugh and Kenma’s back straightens as he tries not to take it personally. It’s technically not a big deal and he usually isn’t bothered by whether or not people would like him but he has a very deep-seated need for you to like him right now.

“What do you do on the daily? Outside of cons?” you ask after you’ve swallowed your last bite of pizza, “something with sales?”

Kenma raises a confused eyebrow at you and you laugh apologetically, “I just thought maybe for Bandai? Since you’re selling their game at the con.”

That’s when Kenma realizes.

You have no idea who he is.

And hey, Kenma isn’t that conceited that he thinks everyone knows him but with all the games you have the same interests in, he’d figured you at least knew his name or something of the sort. He also had a tiny drop of fear that you might just be seeking him out due to his status. He’s not sure he wouldn’t just let you, given how infatuated he is with you. What a wonderful way to get played, he absentmindedly thinks.

He's glad it seems to be in a whole other alley. You might just be interested in him for him.

“I uh, I own a company.” He tries not to sound like too much of a jerk but the sentence makes it hard to not sound high and mighty, no matter how he’d said it. Your eyes widen and you slap your palms onto the surface of the table, “that’s so cool!” you exclaim and Kenma tries to will down a blush. “What kind of company?”

He must look like a deer in the headlights to you because you shrink in on yourself and apologize for prying. He’s not sure why he didn’t expect such a follow-up question but his brain malfunctioned at the way your eyes shone. You’re wearing contacts again today, bright green and making your eyes seem bigger than they actually are. There are golden lashes lining your eyes and once again your makeup best accentuates what he believes fits the character because it’s different than it was yesterday but still just as sleek and beautiful. He hitches a breath before he can properly reply, “uh, it’s called… Bouncing Ball Corp.” he admits with a hand scratching the back of his neck.

Realization seems to dawn on your face as your eyes narrow, seemingly in deep thought. Then your mouth opens in an ‘o’ shape before you burst out laughing, a hand to your stomach. Kenma’s sitting like a duck, watching you go through all of these motions, confused as to what they might mean. Then, you wipe a stray tear from your lash line and apologize for your outburst, “it’s just. Oh my God, please apologize to your friend. When we met him at the show…” you laugh again, trying to breathe calmly, “I thought he was trying to hit on me because he started talking about knowing some kind of CEO and a streamer. My friend knew who it was but I didn’t and he seemed embarrassed that I didn’t. Oh God,” you’re still laughing, hiding your face behind your hand as Kenma puts two and two together.

That blathering idiot.

How many times does Kenma have to tell Kuroo not to be his wingman? He groans as he hides his face on the surface of the table, letting out strings of apologies on behalf of his friend. “I’m so sorry he’s just… like that,” Kenma bites out as he raises his head back up, licking his front teeth. You wave your hand with a smile, “don’t worry, don’t worry. He seems… fun. And he really seems to care about you.”

Kenma nods and plays with the woody veins on the table, unsure what to say when you grab his hand, “but you can thank him for his meddling, I think. It got the two of us talking, right?”

Kenma’s body seems to freeze at the contact as he feels the warmth of your hand in his. Your eyes look hopeful as you worry your lip between your teeth, a half-smile on your face. Kenma smiles in what he hopes is a reassuring way as he squeezes your hand back with a courage he hadn’t felt in a while, “yeah, I’ll be sure to treat him to a nice dinner later. But I think I’d like to treat you to one first.”

You giggle as you look down at the table in front of you, “that’d be lovely. But I think you need to see me out of cosplay before you decide, don’t you?” you ask with nervousness teetering in your lilt. Kenma shakes his head, “I cannot imagine that you’re not beautiful underneath your costume. Besides, your personality’s what’s important and I like that a lot already.”

The smile you send his way make his heart pump again. Yeah, he definitely needs to thank Kuroo, no matter how stunted his attempt were, it ended up working.

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #kenma kozume x reader #haikyuu fluff #kenma kozume fluff #nohr.writing #I HOPE THIS MAKES SENSE...... AGAIN IT IS UNBETA'D AND MY BRAIN IS STILL AT THE CON. I THINK I LEFT IT IN DEALER HALL LMAO #TRADED IT FOR A HAWKS FIGURE #i hope i got across how absolute STRUCK kenma is w reader. how bamboozled he is by their beauty

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kylesvariouslistsandstuff · 2 months

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Some Mouse House news today. One story is true, the other *might* be true.

Today, Sean Bailey steps down as head of Walt Disney Pictures. The studio of Disney's massive film division that does all the live-action movies, and in some cases, animated tech demos that look like real-life simulations. Ya know, THE JUNGLE BOOK (2016) and THE LION KING (2019)?

He singlehandedly ushered in the whole remake craze (on top of saying some very weird and obtuse things about the animated classics they are largely based on), whilst trying to launch new franchises out of over-budgeted risky movies, and suffice to say? I'm more than happy that his replacement is Searchlight Pictures' David Greenbaum.

Greenbaum will now lead a combined Disney Live-Action/20th Century Studios effort, while Matthew Greenfield continues to lead Searchlight. This is a very smart move I feel, as Searchlight were usually quite good with budgets. They greenlit several outre and unique movies. Most recently Yorgos Lanthimos' POOR THINGS, which I loved. In the weirdest sense, and you'll probably think I've lost the plot in saying this, but... The $35m hard R-rated sci-fi black comedy with plenty of sex scenes felt more in the spirit of "Disney" - creative, game-changing, and bold - than a lot of the titanic-budgeted seemingly-noted-to-death movies released under the mainline "Disney" name in the recent years... That's quite something!

(Maybe it's just something of a shock to see a movie simply made by a FILMMAKER come out Disney. After all, when Walt Disney saw TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD in 1962, he was floored by the film and lamented... He wish his studio could make a picture like that.)

So yeah, as you can tell, I'm thrilled with this move. I feel that the output of the "Live-Action" end of Disney hasn't really been for me for a long time, creatively, and maybe Greenbaum will course-correct. Take a chance on different filmmakers, let them come in and make a really cool movie that isn't buckled under notes and mandates that attempt to make the proceedings "more Disney" - whatever that means. Less things like ARTEMIS FOWL and LION KING and this TRON-in-name-only sequel with Jared Leto, more stuff like the first PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN and assorted smaller movies. These things don't have to be $150m+ behemoths, either.

This move has been a long-time coming, I feel, especially after the film division lost money on HAUNTED MANSION and live-action LITTLE MERMAID, in addition to seeing diminishing returns elsewhere.

(And hey, on the off chance... Maybe we can see another Muppets movie get off the ground, haha.)

Sooo... As for the other piece of news...

Apparently Pixar is working on a movie called DUCKS.

And it's a full-blown musical, too... A first for Pixar...

Right now, this is all coming out of the rumor mills and I feel it should be taken with a grain of salt. Much like that soccer movie set in Barcelona that they were supposedly developing around 2018.

What's interesting is that a locked Facebook account and a locked Twitter account have been made for a "Pixar Ducks" thing. So maybe... Yeah... Maybe DUCKS is a movie in the works at Pixar. Or it's a short.

Some have pointed out that this news arrives a little after the release of Universal/Illumination's animated duck romp MIGRATION, which brings up the pairs of yore: A BUG'S LIFE and ANTZ, FINDING NEMO and SHARK TALE, RATATOUILLE and FLUSHED AWAY, the ill-fated NEWT and RIO... But really, sometimes great minds think alike. Remember how we had three animated movies about Sasquatches/yetis from September 2018 to September 2019? SMALLFOOT, MISSING LINK, and ABOMINABLE?

Sometimes it just happens...

I've also noticed people saying "Wait a minute, what about COCO? Wasn't that a musical?"

COCO, when it was coming out, was carefully described as a movie that was about music, not so much a "musical". I don't see COCO as a "musical", myself.

You see, I feel musicals inhabit a heightened reality of their own. Typically, in musical movies, when characters start singing, everything else around them is engaged. Like the whole block or the whole neighborhood or the whole area was prepared for this moment, and are going along with it. For some people, that's weird. "Why are they all singing? Imagine doing THAT in real life!" That's the point of musicals, I feel. The singing is the characters' feelings, their world, their point of view. These movies don't follow a literal reality, and that's what has always made them and their theatre counterparts so special for so many years.

COCO, by contrast, is about musicians. They pick up a guitar or instrument, and when they play music and sing, it's not of a heightened reality. Everybody else goes about their business, the whole block isn't singing- You get where I'm going with this, right? There's a clear difference between COCO and BEAUTY AND THE BEAST.

Some 30 years ago, when Pixar was working on TOY STORY... Their first ever feature film, they specifically didn't want to do a musical or something with an "I Want" song. A little list of rules, so that they wouldn't make something similar to what Disney was doing post-OLIVER & COMPANY. Many of the other animation studios were mimicking that formula as well, as evidenced by all the SWAN PRINCESS and FERGULLY types that were being released all throughout the '90s... It's understandable that Pixar and their tight-knit culture wanted to avoid that at first...

But we're in 2024 now, and Disney Animation has long balanced out musicals with non-musicals (BIG HERO 6, ZOOTOPIA, RAYA, etc.), while other studios have tried other kinds of musicals that don't try to recreate what Howard Ashman and Alan Menken perfected circa 1989. Like the SING movies, those are jukebox musicals, the TROLLS movies are more like pop musicals than they are Broadway...

So, some three decades after the release of TOY STORY (assuming that this film comes out in 2026 at the earliest), yeah! Pixar making a musical isn't so far-fetched. What this studio brings to that genre remains to be seen, but I'm interested nonetheless. They could possibly re-invent it in a very cool, fun way. I just find the title to be curious... Ducks... Talking animals... It seems very basic, but there's a lot we don't know, so I'll wait til I hear more. It could be about, say, duckpin bowling for all I know.

My other question is... Who is directing it? I know that the following filmmakers have pitched or are working on films at Pixar:

Brian Fee (director of CARS 3)

Enrico Casarosa (director of LUCA)

Domee Shi (director of TURNING RED)

Dan Scanlon (director on ONWARD and MONSTERS UNIVERSITY)

Kristen Lester (director of Sparkshort PURL)

Rosana Sullivan (director of Sparkshort KITBULL)

Aphton Corbin (director of Sparkshort TWENTY-SOMETHING)

Daniel Chong (creator of WE BEAR BEARS, storyboard artist on CARS 2 and INSIDE OUT)

Their schedule currently looks like this:

6/14/2024: INSIDE OUT 2

06/13/2025: ELIO

03/06/2026: Unknown

06/19/2026: Unknown

TBD 2026: TOY STORY 5 (likely summer)

So, logically, this could be their spring 2026 original movie while TOY STORY 5 expectedly takes the prime summer slot. Maybe! Perhaps it swaps spots with something else, I don't know.

We do have a D23 Expo coming up this year, so maybe we'll learn what Pixar's post-ELIO films are that aren't sequels. If DUCKS is real and it's moving along quite nicely, then that should be the one. We shall see...

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randomfoggytiger · 1 year

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X-Files Collector’s Edition: Creepy and Cozy Cabins

Cabins: the final destination of many, many fic tropes. For our intrepid heroes, cabins are a great setting for either great understandings of relationship-kind, or a temporary haven from their chaotic and bloodthirsty world. I like to keep an eclectic assortment of such fics and mix them all together like a crazy salad.

Loose chronological order below~!

(Edited: Added jordan’s Alligator Moon.)

Canon

aka Jake/ aka_Jake ’s (Gossamer) 14-Day Quarantine (Gossamer)

““Mulder?" My name rasps from Scully's throat.

Ignoring the nurses' scowls, I return to her bedside.

She clears her throat, takes a shallow breath. "I'd've...preferred Bigfoot."

Me, too, Scully. Me, too.””

Post Darkness Falls Scully-- not yet out of the woods-- is devastated at news of the ranger’s death. She slips back and forth between recovery and coma while Mulder tries to bolster hers, his, and Maggie’s spirits.

the_eternal_optimist’s Unheard Of

““The men barged right in, broke the lock on the door. I pulled my gun, told them I was FBI. They were on me before I could even move, Scully.” She winced. “A few of them had baseball bats. One of them had a—a rope, or something heavy like that. I lost my gun before I could even fire it. I think I took a bat to the back of the head.” He sighed heavily. “When I came to, I was like you found me—clothes gone, hands tied.”

“And they just stashed you there under the stairs?” she asked in horror.

He grimaced. “They, uh, they actually dragged me out to the tree line,” he stammered, suddenly sounding very small. “Threw me closer to the forest. Then they, uh, they took that rope to my back. Said something about beating the devil out of me. I think I passed out when it got too painful.””

Beginning in Chapter 3, Scully finds Mulder in the woods-- beaten to a pulp and covered in mud. She cleans him up in a nearby cabin; but his violent marauders return, not deterred by the protections of an enchanted house.

Juliettt‘s Confusion

““A sudden flash of light momentarily blinded her and she dropped to a defensive crouch.

<Silly. That's Mulder's flashlight -- he burst through the back door at the same time that you. . . .>

And then the crushing pain in her skull, the brief moment of terror and surprise, and blankness. . . .””

S2-3 Mulder and Scully wake with amnesia in a cabin. With Scully’s barely-there memories, she becomes a believer while Mulder scoffs at her “tall tales.” Skinner, flummoxed with their disappearance, arrives too late for true answers.

@discordantwords‘s (Ao3) Somewhere North of Fiji

““Behind her, she heard the slosh of water and a furtive sound, a strange squelching that she couldn't place. She glanced back at the water, saw nothing, then looked over at Mulder. He had the phone to his ear and did not seem aware of anything amiss.

She became aware of a strong odor, the stench of rotting fish.

"Mul-" something grabbed her from behind, needle sharp teeth sinking into her ankle. She tipped backwards, and the last thing she saw was Mulder's startled face, staring on as something small and gray rushed straight for him.””

S4 Mulder and Scully are half-drowned, half-mauled by the Fiji Mermaid who just. Won’t. Die. No matter how many bullets are blasted in its gut.

jordan’s Alligator Moon

““As Scully ducked between trees, her arms out to ward off branches, brushing spiderwebs and Spanish moss out of her way, a blind, unreasoning panic began to seize her.

Before it could take hold, she summoned the last of her courage and reached back to the holster in the small of her back. She tore back the velcro flap, grasped the butt of her weapon and drew it. The motion slowed her, and she let herself come to a full stop, the gun in her hand, to face her pursuer defiantly.

Scully! No!" Mulder had slid in the leaves like a first base runner and reversed direction to run back to her. He scooped an arm around her waist and dragged her backwards. For one second she saw the shimmer of something in the air, something she could only comprehend as sheer power, and she felt its malevolent intent like foul breath in her face. Then she was being half carried, half pulled by Mulder into a sudden clearing.””

AU FTF? Mulder and Scully track their suspect into the woods. They instead find his mangled corpse and near death by Windigo. While tracked in a cabin surrounded by a circle of sugar, Mulder uses his childhood dreams to figure out the mystery while Scully silently fumes over his aborted moves and imposed distance.

@sarie-fairy‘s (Ao3) Skamania County

““I’m okay. I landed on something soft, sort of.”

It was then she managed to roll over, move from where she had fallen as Mulder began to descend. As she did, a sharp pain tore at her torso, and her head throbbed.

“Hold on,” he assured.

It was pliable, yielded as she shoved away.

“I’m coming down there, Scully,” he soothed.

And … furry?””

Post The Unnatural-- Scully-- while fumbling around the snowy woods with Mulder hunting for Sasquatch-- finds a dark hole, a dead man in a zip-up suit, and a serious injury to her side (in that order.) Mulder is left to half-panic, half-haul her to a cabin and stitch an emergency suture.

Love this fic! Classic pull-together of humor balanced with knife’s edge danger, and softened with tender care. (Also, found @mondfuchs‘s art through this!)

XP1′s Dire Straights

““Good. Good. Okay. Just scratches then.”

“’Scratches!’ she says!”

“Well not…I mean it probably only cut the epidermis. You don’t see any fat do you?”

“On you? Never.”

“Mulder-”

“No I don’t see anything like that. Just a…a whole lotta red.””

Mulder and Scully escape a dire bear; but she is more seriously injured than he’d thought. What ensues is amazing banter to keep their minds off of their serious worries as the two clean Scully’s wounds and cheekily address their mutual unspoken interests.

This is an amazing fic. Only dialogue-- but it’s so well-written that you can tell exactly when each character picks up an object or what the other person is doing simply by how they SPEAK WORDS. Great stuff.

@suitablyaggrieved‘s (Ao3)

Unnamed

““Looks like they left in a hurry, their things are still here and there’s smoke here. It’s warm. They haven’t been gone long.” Scully stands up and dusts herself off. Mulder stands nearby, looking down at the topographical map he had with him.

“Two cabins near here, so where did they go?” Mulder hands the map over to Scully and scours the area for clues.””

Mulder and Scully question an eerie park ranger for directions. Their sixth senses tingle in fear over the snarling children behind him in the cabin.

Unnamed

““Mulder, are you sure that this is the right way?” Scully asked, removing her hood and wiping her brow from the rain. She looked up at him, her mood indifferent.

“Of course,” he said, not at all sure, and worried that he was leading them down a dangerous excursion.””

Mulder and Scully are lost in the woods due to his bad directions. And, because their lives aren’t hard enough, they hear an animal howl.

Pairs well with--

@scully-loves-ruthie‘s “One time he made a bad joke about pms”

““Thump, Thump, Wack! The pounding on the door growing more intense with each hurtle the beast’s body delivers. Mulder's back is pressed firmly against the other side of the door, his dress shoes digging for stability in the burnt orange motel carpet. Scully splayed against him her arms shoving into the door while adding her body weight against his to stop the impending break in. Their foreheads touch as each breath shimmies out of their lips arduous, biting back panic.””

Mulder is just happy to battle werewolves with his gf, Scully. Sometimes it comes out in awkward jokes (that I love, fyi.)

@leiascully‘s (Ao3)

““That was a sigh for the ages. Penny for your thoughts.”

“I’m not sure they’re worth that.”

“I adjusted for inflation. Humor me.”

“The world was wide enough, Scully.”

“For what?”

“For us and the Jersey Devil.””

Years and locations may change, but Mulder’s curiosity and empathy never abates for the cruelties of the universe and its victims. Gf Scully listening skills and logic never changes, either.

@lotsoforangesoutside/lotzzoforanesoutside‘s (Ao3)

Conversation in the Very Very Late at Night -FOURTEEN-

““Ah, don’t tell me you didn’t know how I felt about you, Scully.” He murmurs softly. “I’ve been in love with my best friend for a long time, and I’ve never done that before.”

“Because your best friends were always guys?” She speculates, suddenly thinking about the Lone Gunmen.

“No, because I’ve never had a best friend.” His eyes tell her that he is being sincere. “So I didn’t know the etiquette on being in love with a best friend.””

A rainy, cozy cabin is the perfect time for Mulder and Scully to reflect on their past best friends and current relationship.

The Cabin

““Mulder takes her to a cabin owned by his uncle. He speaks of Cousin Barry and Cousin Ira, the shenanigans in their youth, the movies they watched together, and the visits to the amusement parks.

Listening to him about his childhood with Ira and Barry, one would think he’s got the best childhood a boy could ever dream of.””

On-the-run Mulder and Scully take a break at his cousin’s cabin. His girl-cooties banter is the cherry on top of their ooey-gooey good times that they have soaking in this speck of normalcy.

@wexleresque/hllsteeth‘s Fictober 2021 - Chapter 17

““The news does not come as a surprise to either of them given the winter storm that rages outside, howling and covering everything in ice. It feels like the little cabin might topple over when a particularly strong wind hits it.

“At least we still have power.” Mulder says, looking up at the single bulb in the ceiling that bathes them in a yellow light. They dust off a chess board that looks like it's been sitting long-abandoned in the corner, settling in for a long night of waiting. They’re seasoned experts at being exiled together, a concept that is oxymoronic as it is true.””

Mulder and Scully are snowed-in; but he creates a cheery evening with roasted marshmallows and cheesy fireside stories.

truthwebothknow1′s My December

““Please tell me you are going to knock me out for this." Scully was shaking her head; his heart lurched painfully, feeling the bite of metal scoring his ribs. He pulled his best-beaten spaniel look that he'd thought worthy of an Oscar. To his horror, a single tear slid like a dewdrop down her face. It was then he noticed the blood at the edge of her hair for the first time. He was gasping now. Suddenly he felt like every, meal he'd ever consumed were fighting on mass for an exodus up and out,of biblical proportions.””

S7? Mulder is victim to a horrific car accident, with barbed wire embedded in his flesh in crucial spots that necessitate immediate removal-- without meds-- by Scully and Skinner. Santa makes it all better, but not until he’s had his fill of hurtfic.

Scullysfan’s Mileage

““She didn't answer for a moment, and then gave a solemn nod. "Yeah. I guess... I feel like the walls are closing in." His stomach roiled and clenched when she crossed her arms over her chest as though seeking protection. He had to lean forward to catch her next words, she spoke them so softly. "Like I'm going nowhere."

He knew the feeling well. ...

That a similar weight would burden the woman standing before him became suddenly unacceptable. ...She started when he swung his feet off the desk and planted them on the floor. "Then let's blow this pop stand," he exclaimed. "Let's go somewhere.””

Pre-Requiem Scully has a nosebleed. Mulder convinces her to do a roadtrip through America to keep her mind off the impending results. They visit old haunts, new places, find a dead baby, visit a children’s hospital, and enjoy a few days in a treehouse cabin.

@atths--twice/ATTHS_TWICE‘s (Alt. Ao3, FFN) Creature Comforts

““Scully?” Mulder called, interrupting her thoughts.

Knocking twice, he opened the bathroom door as she opened her eyes and looked at him, the candle on the counter flickering. He grinned and she sighed with a small smile. “You good?”

She hummed in response, closing her eyes briefly and sighing.””

On-the-run Mulder rents a cabin; and Scully is delighted to have a real bath and watch a movie with him.

mmeadowlarkk’s Merry and Bright

““A few more months here and there and we can… think of something.” He catches himself sounding like he’s making a promise. They have stayed loyal to focusing on the present.

If not one day at a time they take it one week at a time, and if they feel safe enough, two weeks at a time. Like this cabin, somewhere in Duluth, Minnesota, they’ve been here for a week but decided to stay for another one. The town isn’t that far and they’re still isolated enough that no one has driven by or looked their way.

“Did you make more coffee?” she asks like she didn’t neglect her first one. Half of it, anyway.””

On-the-run Mulder notices Scully’s new quirks and patterns while sidestepping her tepid hesitancies against decorating their rented cabin for Christmas.

@aimmyarrowshigh‘s (Ao3) 047. Canada

“The cabin is so far off the grid that the grid might as well by a figment of their imaginations.”

Mulder and Scully bunk out in a cabin... but not for good reasons.

AUs

theramblinrose’s

The Lake House - Chapter 2

"“Mulder,” Scully said after a moment of smearing a bit more of the strawberry jam on the newly acquired bit of toast, “can I—talk to you?”

Mulder smiled to himself. One of the main reasons for this trip was to give Scully the opportunity to talk about what she was feeling—something she’d already indicated that she desired to discuss with him at some point.””

Mulder and Scully are married and expecting a child. More importantly, they are shaken from the events of Irresistible, and rent a cabin getaway to recover.

The Lake House - Chapter 3

““This is the best baked potato I’ve had in years,” Mulder offered. “I’m serious. I don’t know why we’re ordering out as much as we do.”

Scully laughed to herself.

“Because we don’t usually have a whole afternoon to dedicate to preparing dinner,” Scully responded.

Mulder hummed his agreement. “I’ve been thinking about that,” he said.””

The vacation continues; but this time Mulder wants to talk.

LuvTheBeez’s (mulderscreek) Snow (Goss)

““Scully paused for a moment at the entrance to the living room, watching as her husband carefully crumpled pieces of newspaper into intricate shapes. Some of the pieces were rolled carefully into long, tight wands, some barely crumpled, all arranged with exquisite care under the equally carefully-arranged pieces of wood. Scully could practically feel the concentration coming off him in waves.

"Mulder, it never really occurred to me before, and I certainly admire the skill with which you construct that masterpiece you've got going there, but I seem to recall a bit of a phobia you used to have about fire." She placed his mug down on the mantle. "How have you gone from fear to Master Fire Builder?"

"It's all about control, Scully." Mulder paused for a moment as he twisted the life out of another geometrically perfect square of newspaper. "This is our house. This fireplace is a perfect little contained area, inside our house, where one can have a controlled fire that *stays* in control. If I build the fire, I have control over it. I am its master. I *am* Fire Boy.”"

S5 Mulder and Scully and baby’s last minute Christmas shopping is derailed by a grocery store stickup. Her contractions pick up as the body count rises; and soon the two are trying to quietly maintain equilibrium while they’re marched into a getaway car and driven into the mountains, hoping against hope that Skinner somehow bugged the vehicle.

This is a beloved favorite of mine-- the dialogue, the synchrony, the mature banter and next-level “vibes” they have as a team between these two is unparalleled... and all the little details are important throughout, necessitating an almost immediate reread. GREAT stuff!!

RebeccaRusnak/Anonymous‘s (mulderscreek) Small Blessings

““She shook her head in understanding. Normal wasn’t something they did that often these days. In fact, she hadn’t felt normal in years. Mulder had probably been living in the Twilight Zone even longer.

They fell silent for a second, each contemplating. He broke it first. “If you leave, I’m going to go, too.”

She nodded slowly, not agreeing but acknowledging.””

FTF Scully and Mulder (huddled in their snocat) fantasize about the lives they could live if they left the FBI. She also doesn’t allow him to dodge a compliment.

Namarie/namarie24’s (mulderscreek) All I Will Remember (Goss)

““Mulder shifts in his seat, and says, "It just seems like a huge coincidence to me that Krycek appears and convinces us all that there's still something to be found in Bellefleur. And then someone breaks into the hospital records where Scully was admitted, and then leaves this warning for me to find as soon as Scully and I go back to work."

Skinner's expression flickers at the mention of Krycek, but he waits for Mulder to finish speaking before he replies. "Not that I don't think he's capable of manipulation and breaking into confidential records," he says, "but if Krycek is responsible for it, why would he bother leaving you a warning? Why not just let things unfold?"

I give Mulder a significant look, and he shrugs. "That is the question, sir.””

Post Requiem Mulder and Scully wake in a vast forest, alone. She relays her pregnancy news as the two pick their way back to civilization (with the unexpected help from the owner of a cabin they squatted in.) After they’re picked up by Skinner, Krycek decides to claim credit for freeing them; and leaves them with a cryptic warning about future threats on her and the baby’s life.

Karen Rasch’s By the Wind Grieved (Gossamer 1, 2)

““So you see, Mulder, even if I were to spend the holidays with my family, the chances of us having a old-fashioned Christmas are next to nil," she said, leaning towards him across the table. "I mean...I would love a big old tree, a fire burning in the fireplace, carolers at the front door. But that just isn't who we are, not who we've been for a long time."

"Do you miss them, though?" he asked quietly, sitting forward in his seat now as well. "Your family, I mean."

"I do," she confessed. "Part of me misses not being able to see everybody. But you know...given our track record, it's probably for the best." "What do you mean?"

"You've read the files," she said wryly. "You know the kinds of things that happen to you and me this time of year. All in all, I'd say we're safer here than we would be anywhere else.”"

S8 Mulder is returned in the late stages of Scully’s pregnancy with complete amnesia. After an attempt on his life, Skinner spirits the two of them (and interchanging guards) up to a cabin to winter until the assassins can be caught. The two grow closer as Christmas approaches, doing homey little crafts and bonding over the files; but Scully regrets not filling in all the blanks when Krycek shows up to hold them hostage until his backup arrives. The baby, of course, decides now is the perfect time to arrive.

@slippinmickeys‘s (Ao3, Gossamer) Three Part Harmony (8/?)

““I suppose one of us should go check it out,” Mulder sighed. He was run through with exhaustion and worn raw with nerves, but he leaned over Scully to open the glove compartment where they’d stashed the three guns. He grabbed the Glock, the closest one to hand, when Scully put a hand on his arm.

“Let me,” she said. “I’ve at least gotten a bit of rest today.””

On-the-run Mulder and Scully are now being incessantly tracked after saving Will from the same fate as his dead parents. A kindly waitress gives them brief respite in her secluded cabin while the two catch their breath and decide on their next steps.

Defnotmeyo’s (WBM, Alt. WBM) Choke Points

““And so there is Walter Skinner.

He’s blown people’s heads off in close quarters. Children, even. And when he dug himself from the swampy, stinking mass of Vietnam, and set to work repairing his head, after he met Sharon and decided she needed something better, something more than himself, he got down to the business of it. He set out for more. And so SSG Skinner, on his way to becoming a Gunny, became LT Skinner. The lowest of the low, yet more than that because he had his good conduct ribbon and people knew he’d been in the dirt. While the other Officers held the shrimp fork with ease, Walter tugged his collar and counted tongs.

And when, in the battlefield, the other LTs turned and evaded answering the big questions, LT Skinner stepped up and called the shots, sentenced people to life and death, his soldiers knew. He wasn’t some Academy rat. Walter has always been a Mustang. And he knows another when he sees one.””

My Struggle II/III Skinner reminisces on his impressions of early Scully and their subsequent friendship. He continues to be impressed as she whips everyone into shape-- dumping her ragtag group of misfits in one vehicle, snapping Einstein into place, and gunning it to find William in hopes of a cure.

Wow, this was long! You guys are troopers if you made it through (or even a quarter of the way.) Hope you all--

Enjoy!

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itsladykit · 10 months

Text

Life Cycles, Ch. 30 - No more secrets

Summary: Edge needs to know how bad it can get.

CW: Disordered eating, vulgar humor, discussion of consent and heat, references/implication of child sexual abuse*, implication of manipulation*, Fell-verse and Tale-verse culture clash, poor self-esteem/poor self-image. *Neither the implied child abuse nor manipulation actually occur. They're mistaken assumptions, but understandable ones. See the end note for more detail, with spoilers. This is a rather quick conversation, and it's explicitly stated that nothing actually happened, but it does touch on some uncomfortable topics, particularly since there are some real-world parallels that can be drawn on very easily. Stay safe.

They ate in uncomfortable silence. Rather, Rus ate, but when he checked Edge’s plate, he seemed to be deconstructing his sandwich, rather than eating it—pulling the meat and lettuce free, tearing the bread into smaller and smaller pieces. Rus’ soul felt frozen. His throat was tight, and his sockets stung. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to look away. Staring wouldn’t help.

By the time Rus was finished, Edge wasn’t even halfway done. Swallowing, he bumped his shoulder into Edge’s and asked, “remember when we first met?”

Edge snorted, tearing a piece of crust in half. “Do I remember calling you an inferior copy and storming out of the room? Yes, Rus, I remember that.” He sounded tired, even past the sarcasm.

Rus smirked, leaning into him. His throat was still tight and tense, but his soul eased a fraction at the contact. “to be fair, i spent most of the afternoon taking cheap shots at you first.”

Edge sighed, glancing at him. “That you did.” He eyed the piece of crust and actually ate it this time. Rus ran his hand over Edge’s spine, resting his forehead on his scapula. His soul hummed, pleased by the scent and proximity of his mate, even though the circumstances were less than ideal. “That was such a disaster,” Edge muttered, “How in the world did we ever get past that?” It was technically a question, but his tone made it obvious he didn’t expect an answer.

Rus kissed his scapula, thumb stroking over his lumbar vertebrae. “you don’t know?”

Edge turned his head, looking back at him. He opened his mouth, then shut it. His gaze grew distant. “…No,” he said after a few moments, “I really don’t. One day you were needling me about my LV, and it seemed like you were trying to get into my pants the next.”

Rus grinned. “and you let me.”

Edge snorted. “I thought maybe you’d leave me alone if I satisfied your curiosity.”

Chuckling, Rus nuzzled at his neck. “satisfied? stars, precious, that just left me wanting more.” He shook his head, reminding himself of Edge’s current state; now was not the time to start winding himself up. “but you know what changed, don’t you?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“it was the cat.”

“…Excuse me?”

“you know the annoying cat? from my ‘verse? you and red were over—for a potluck or something, i think. and that cat was getting into everything. it—”

“He,” Edge corrected absently. Rus grinned.

“he kept knocking the silverware off the table, jumping on the counters, getting into the food. i thought blue was going to blow a fuse.”

Edge snorted. “If I recall, you and Sans were taking bets on it.”

He laughed. “yeah, and i woulda won too, but…then you swooped in and said you’d handle it. i, uh, i wasn’t sure what you meant at the time.” He ducked his head, ashamed of the assumptions he’d made. He cleared his throat. “so i followed you when you took him out of the house. and i saw you sit down with him and give him treats. saw how you had him purring in minutes. that’s when i knew there was more to you than your lv.”

Edge was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Only you would re-evaluate your Judgement based on the way someone handled a pussy.”

Rus choked on his laughter, wrapping his arms around Edge’s waist. “stars, i love you.”

Edge looked at him from over his shoulder. “That was for you and you only. If I hear you tell anyone that I made such a vulgar joke….”

“who’d believe me, anyway?”

They kissed, the contact soft and sweet, devoid of heat—despite the thrumming warmth in Rus’ mana lines. He wanted, but more than that, he needed to know Edge was okay. He broke the kiss, pressing their foreheads together instead. He clutched at Edge’s ribcage, clinging so hard he could feel Edge’s mana pulsing through the marrow. And Edge…Edge welcomed him beautifully. His posture was loose and relaxed, his body willing and warm. But his soul—

Stars, Rus’ soul ached, yearning to make that final connection. He could sense Edge’s soul behind his ribcage, still unmanifested. Part of him couldn’t help but read that as a rejection of him and all he had to offer. He knew that wasn’t true—Edge’s physical reception was evidence enough of that—but he clung tighter regardless, some part of him terrified that Edge’s warm reception would cool, and he’d turn away completely.

“Rus?”

He made a soft sound at the back of his throat in response. A wordless inquiry.

Edge ran his thumb over his temple. “Can you tell me how it feels?”

“how it…?”

“Being in heat.”

“oh.” He considered that, pulling back from the embrace. “it depends on your partner, really.” Edge’s skull tilted and his brow-bone lifted. “remember how i went through all the things i would need from you?” He nodded. “well, i’d be in pretty bad shape right about now if you weren’t willing to do any of that for me.”

He picked at a piece of bread. “What’s it like, when it’s bad?”

Rus paused. “i…why don’t i tell you what it’s like when it’s good?”

“No. I mean—” He grimaced. “I want to know that too, but I need to know what the worst case scenario is.”

Rus studied him, not sure that this was a good idea. He eyed his plate. “finish eating first.” He expected Edge to argue with him about that, but he just gave a short nod and actually began eating, not just picking at, his food. While he did, Rus tried to figure out what to say and how to say it. He didn’t want to spook Edge any further, but if he held anything back, he might do something stupid—like try to go it alone.

So, when Edge finished, Rus pushed him into the nest, pulling the blankets and pillows into place. Edge watched him, eyelights following his hands as he rearranged the nest around him. “What are you thinking right now?”

Rus paused, eyeing him. “what do you mean?”

“It’s unusual for you to fuss like this. I want to know what you’re thinking about while you do it.”

“i…” Rus hadn’t really realized he was doing anything out of character. More slowly, he tugged at the blankets. “i’m thinking that i want you to be comfortable,” he said carefully.

Edge studied him. “What else?”

Rus blinked. “okay, i’m not sure what you’re getting at here.”

Pulling a hand free of the blankets, Edge cupped his cheekbone, thumb smoothing over his mandible. Rus’ sockets slipped closed, and he leaned into the contact. “I need to know what you’re thinking.” ‘Need’, not ‘want’ Rus noticed. “How much of this is you and how much is….”

Rus’ sockets popped opened. “it’s all me.” Edge shook his head. He didn’t say anything, just leaned back against the pillows, arms folded. “it is,” Rus said. He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “alright—it’s like this, okay? i’m still me. i’m not doing anything i don’t want to do. i’m just….” He huffed. “it’s like…karaoke night, right? maybe i don’t sing anything at the start of the night, but after i have a few shots, i’m up there singing ‘don’t stop believing’. the alcohol might make it easier to get up there, and it makes it more fun, but that’s all me on stage. it’s something i wanted to do and i’m having fun doing it. i just needed a little help to get there, you know?”

“It’s not just you, though,” Edge said, “If it was just you, you wouldn’t need the alcohol.” He swallowed as some of the mana drained from his cheekbones. “And I won’t fuck you when you’re impaired. You know that.”

shit. That definitely wasn’t what he’d meant to imply. “okay, never mind. bad example. just let me—” He rubbed at his sockets. “stars, edge, do we have to do this right now? i’m—” He took a deep breath. “you want to know what i’m thinking? this is what I’m thinking; i feel warm and comfortable and safe. i want to curl up in my nest with the man that i love, and i want him to feel warm and comfortable and safe too. that’s what i want, and that is all me—heat or no heat. i’m not impaired. i’m just…maybe i’m more willing to show it than i normally am, that’s all. okay?”

Edge’s posture relaxed a little. “I…I’m sorry.” He opened his arms and Rus took that as invitation. He draped himself over Edge, skull pressed to his chest so he could feel the hum of mana through his mana lines and smell the familiar scent of soap and bones. He curled closer, sighing as the tension drained out of his body. Tentatively, Edge rested a hand on the back of his neck, then ran it down his spine—petting him in much the same way he’d soothed the annoying cat more than a year ago now. “I can wait,” Edge said, “if you don’t want to talk about it while you’re…indisposed.”

Rus snorted. “i don’t mind talking about it, but i need you to understand that i want this.” He squeezed his ribs, just enough to show what he meant. “i’d want this—want you—even if i wasn’t in heat.”

Edge’s hand rested loosely on the back of his skull. “And if I were someone else…?”

Rus sighed, lifting himself up on his elbows, just enough to look Edge in the eyelight. “it depends. i’ve spent my heat with—”

“I do not need specifics,” Edge said in a rush, spots of color appearing high on his cheekbones.

“—people i’ve been attracted to, and we had a good time, if you know what i mean. i’ve also spent it with people i was just friendly with and didn’t find attractive. that was fine, but we didn’t fuck and….” He stopped.

“And?”

“it’s not as good, that’s all. but it wasn’t bad.” Stars, he did not need Edge forcing himself out of his comfort zone to try to make this good for him.

But another concern had Edge’s attention now. “Have you had a bad experience?”

Rus winced and looked away. “i….”

Edge sat up, his grip on him suddenly fierce. He was projecting subtly, and Rus tried to shake it off, but his soul basked in the waves of / safety / security / PROTECTION / rolling off him. “it’s not as bad as you’re thinking,” he murmured, settling into Edge’s lap with his skull on Edge’s shoulder and their sternums pressed together. “first time sucked. that’s all. i didn’t have a partner and i didn’t even really know what i wanted. blue was still a kid, so he didn’t understand why i didn’t want him around.” He sighed, nuzzling into Edge’s throat as the projections poured over him. A soft purr started in his chest. “i spent the first day holed up in my room. hurt like hell—felt like my bones were melting. and my soul….” He shuddered. Silently, he vowed that it would never be like that for Edge.

“What did you do?”

“blue eventually got so freaked out he called Tori.”

Edge blinked, then pulled back to stare at him. “You would have been little better than a child yourself! She—”

“no, no. no. it wasn’t like that. she just…sat with me. taught me how to make a nest. made tea. held my hand and scratched my skull. she helped me when i needed it. it was nice. she was nice.”

Edge was silent for several beats, then his grip tightened, and he pulled Rus close. “And when you were old enough, she asked you to be her Judge.”

His purring ceased. “no. i mean—yes, but…it wasn’t like that. she asked because of my kr. because i was the only monster underground who couldn’t gain lv—who had an advantage against monsters with lv. and she helped me because i was a scared kid, and she wasn’t just going to let me suffer. look, i know your king wasn’t a good guy—” Edge snorted at the understatement. “—but tori’s not like that. she did what she did because it was the right thing to do, not because she wanted to put me in her debt or something.”

Edge didn’t contradict him, but his grip didn’t loosen and his projections only grew stronger. Reluctantly, Rus pulled back so he could catch his eyelight. His features were tight and tense, his jawbone set. “edge….” He cupped his cheekbone, running his thumb over it. “we’re on the surface now. this isn’t underfell. you don’t need to be so suspicious. tori isn’t like that. most people aren’t like that. not here. not now.” Edge shook his head, pulling away to lean back against the pillows. His hands settled on the bottoms of Rus’ ribcage, holding him in place. His gaze was distant, and he absently ran his thumbs up and down Rus’ ribs. “edge?”

He shook his head again, gaze still distant. After a while, he said, “I don’t think you know how fragile this all seems to me.”

“what do you mean?”

Edge looked up at him, hands firm on his ribs. “You don’t ever feel like this could all just…crumble? That the humans could decide to send us back Underground? Or that the Fell monsters could decide to start living by Kill or Be Killed again? Or that you might wake up one day and all of this was-was just a dream and you’re still…?” He squeezed Rus’ ribs, as if to reassure himself of his solidity. “Doesn’t any of that frighten you?”

“sometimes,” Rus said. “i have dreams like that. but then i wake up and you’re there beside me and…i’m okay again. they’re just nightmares.” He’d had worse, Underground. Since coming to the Surface, his nightmares had grown less frequent and less dire.

But Edge shook his head. “I’m not taking about nightmares.” He set his jaw, seeming to come to a decision. “Do you know, on my runs, I always check the graffiti, to see if any of the Fell-verse gangs are operating again.” Rus blinked. “Or to see if the humans are becoming more hostile. And when we go out, I always watch the crowds to see if anyone is too interested in us, if they seem like they might….”

“edge.”

Gaze distant, as if he hadn’t heard, Edge continued, “If I think about it too much, I get upset when you’re out on your own, because I know you don’t do those things. You don’t even seem to worry about your social media presence, the information you give away, the way people could use that information to hurt you.”

Rus’ sockets widened. He really didn’t know what to say to that. “i…i could post less, if you…?”

Edge caught his socket, meeting his gaze. “That’s not…. No. You may not worry over these things, but you aren’t unsafe, either. If you were, I’d talk to you about it.” He shook his head, gaze inward. “No, you’re not the problem here. I know that.”

Rus looked down at him, stunned. The scar that split his socket seemed suddenly like an open wound, and the little cracks that littered his bones—old wounds Edge insisted didn’t hurt any longer—seemed so numerous. “you never said anything.”

He shrugged, looking unbearably young for a moment. “This is supposed to be your happy ending. You made it to the Surface. You shouldn’t have to deal with my Fell-verse bullshit.”

Rus held his face in his hands, cupping his cheekbones. “it’s not an ending,” he said, “it’s a beginning—our beginning. not just mine.” He took a breath, forcing back tears. “stars, precious, if this is what you’re thinking about all the time, it’s no wonder that the idea of going into heat freaks you out.” He leaned forward to kiss him on the forehead, then pulled him into a hug.

Slowly, as if unsure, Edge’s arms folded around him, returning the embrace. “it’s okay, you know,” Rus murmured, “to feel like this. everything up here is totally new and different. all the rules have changed.” He grinned, pulling back just enough to catch his eyelight. “it’s been an adjustment for me too—i had to learn to keep the door locked!” Edge snorted and buried his face in Rus’ chest, likely remembering their first real argument after moving in together. Rus allowed himself a smile, then kissed him on the temple. “we’re in this together now. your problems are my problems too. so, don’t hide these things from me anymore.”

Edge took a shuddering breath, face still buried in his chest. He nodded, and Rus felt his soul unclench. “Okay. No more secrets.”

“promise?”

“Promise.”

“good.” Rus rolled into the nest, taking Edge with him. They settled on their sides, facing each other. Rus ran his hand over Edge’s ribcage, fingers lingering on some of the more prominent cracks.

“Is that all?” Edge asked after a moment, “It just hurts?”

It took Rus a moment to understand what Edge meant, and when he did, he hesitated. no more secrets. Finally, he said, “at first, yeah. your bones ache and your soul cramps real bad. you feel hot and uncomfortable. but, uh, it starts to get worse over time. when you’re alone….” He swallowed, curling closer to Edge until their thighs touched and their floating ribs brushed against each other. “your mind starts playing tricks on you,” he said, “you feel…disgusting. vile. you can feel your sins crawling on your back, and you know that that’s why you’re alone. because no one could possibly want someone as disgusting as you. you feel so sure of it, so sure that your soul starts to ache, like it might split in half at any moment. and you just want to curl up and die.” He finished in a whisper, his arms tight around Edge.

Edge folded over him, holding him close to remind him that he wasn’t alone. And someone did want him, very much. Again, he felt his soul reaching out for Edge’s, aching just a little when it didn’t manifest in response. Rus squeezed him tight, wanting more and knowing that now was not the time. This was enough. It had to be.

“Is it like that for everyone?”

“i don’t know. that’s what it was like for me, that first time. until tori got there, at least.”

“And after?”

He sighed, nuzzling into Edge’s ribs. “the pain faded first,” he said, “it was almost immediate. soon as she touched me, my bones stopped aching. it took longer for my soul to stop hurting, though, and even longer to stop feeling like she was just taking pity on me, that i didn’t deserve her kindness.” He cleared his throat, tucking his face against Edge’s cervical vertebrae. “can i tell you what it’s like when it’s good now?”

“Is that the worst it can get?”

“that’s the worst i’ve had.”

“I need to know how bad it can get, Rus. Please.”

Rus sighed but didn’t pull away. “i don’t know. i guess i’ve heard of monsters having to be hospitalized for untreated heat. usually they’ve got something wrong with their soul, though, something that keeps it from releasing magic.” Edge went still beside him, and Rus propped himself on one elbow to get a better look at him. “edge?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. It’s…it’s fine.”

Rus’ soul ached. He cupped Edge’s cheekbone, thumb brushing the bottom of his scar. “breaking your promise already, precious?” His words struck true; Edge flinched. Still, he said nothing, and he wouldn’t meet Rus’ eyelights when he tried to catch his gaze. “c’mon, edgelord. you can tell me. we’re tackling this thing together, remember? i need to know what we’re working with.”

Edge’s hand clenched closed, but he gave an abbreviated nod. “I….” He cleared his throat. “My soul. The LV.” He finally caught Rus’ eyelight, allowing him to see the fear in his sockets. “It could….” He seemed unable to verbalize his fears, but Rus understood.

He stroked a hand over Edge’s cheekbone, his temple. “okay. that’s our worst case scenario then. so, let’s figure out how to deal with it.”

Slowly, Edge nodded. “Yes. Alright. That’s—” He cleared his throat again. “That’s a good place to start.”

“we could set up a doctor’s appointment for you. if they take a look at your soul, they might be able to say what kind of complications the lv could cause.”

Edge held himself stiff and still. “I don’t want anyone else looking at my soul.”

“i know.” He took Edge’s hand in his, still propped up on the opposite elbow. “but it would be better to know, wouldn’t it? instead of waiting to see if it’s going to be a problem.”

Edge sighed, sockets shut as his bones relaxed. He didn’t look relieved, though, just resigned. “I know.”

Rus kissed his cheekbone, moving in to throw an arm over his ribcage and to draw his fingers down the back of Edge’s neck. “so that’s step one. once my heat’s over, we get you an appointment with a doctor.” Edge nodded, obviously unhappy but unwilling to fight when he knew Rus was right. Rus kissed him again, murmuring, “i’m proud of you, you know.”

He snorted. “For what? Having a panic attack when I’m supposed to be—”

Rus silenced him with another kiss. “no,” he said firmly, “for talking to me about this. for letting me help you.”

Edge’s chest hitched again. “If Hook hadn’t texted you….”

The words hung between them like a condemnation. Rus sighed. “still, i’m proud of you. you could have walked out the door—”

“I wouldn’t have left you while you were in heat!”

Rus grinned; he sounded so affronted. “i know. but you could have. or you could have doubled down and kept up the lie.” He rested his hand on one spinous process, fingering the protrusion of bone. “there’s a lot of things you could have done, but you decided to talk to me about it instead. that’s not an easy thing to do, so…i’m proud of you.”

Edge shook his head and rolled onto his other side, turning away from him. “It’s getting late,” he said, “and I’m tired. Can we finish this tomorrow?”

Throat tight, Rus pressed against his back, looping his arm over his ribcage. “sure,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, “whenever you’re ready.”

Edge folded his hand around Rus’, drawing it up to his mouth to plant a kiss at the center of his palm. “Sooner than that,” he said, lacing their fingers together. “But thank you. For being patient with me.”

He kissed the back of his neck, settling more comfortably into the nest as his soul unclenched, reassured by the contact. “always.”

#fell papyrus #swap papyrus #undertale #heat fic #my work #spicyhoney #life cycles

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