#he would first off lose his shit a little bit cause he hasn’t had human interaction in like a year

[vldsideblog]

I think Keith would fall asleep if someone started playing with his hair.

#just a thought #he would first off lose his shit a little bit cause he hasn’t had human interaction in like a year #then he just gets really sleepy and comfortable #let him rest #he deserves it #vld #voltron #voltron legendary defender #keith kogane #keith voltron #keith headcanon #character headcanons #hcs #autistic keith #touch starved Keith #klance #team as family

[gococogo]

A Night of Christmas | Shaytham Oneshot

Synopsis: Christmas has rolled around and while Shay is out celebrating, Haytham is brooding. And it's on this night that Shay finds a little understanding on why Haytham doesn't enjoy this time of year.

Word Count: 2.8K

Genre: Angsty/Assassin's Creed Rogue

Pairing: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Other: Credit to @benkeibear for the divider. I know this is weird getting tagged in a random ass assassin's creed fic. But I hold up to the credit tag haha.

Christmas had its perks. Some bad and some… not as bad. But it’s a time that Haytham never truly celebrated. And that was something Shay found out pretty early on in being a Templar under his eye.

Every year, Shay had just found it as an accuse to drink is merry way. And it seemed like Gist did the same thing. Which was something that Shay appreciated cause the only thing he didn’t want is to be drinking alone again. Liam had given it up for his duties for the Creed. Saying that there was no time to hunker down and celebrate when there was shit happening in the world. Liam’s words, not anyone else’s.

The Greenwich tavern is lively on Christmas. The entire crew of the Morrigan is resided there. The man that owns the tavern -Stocky Dave- is a man that is greedy for money. And if there’s money to be made, Christmas is just another pay check in his books. Which means, Stocky Dave is probably the only tavern open on Christmas day. While every other owner is taking this time off to spend their night with their families or friends.

It’s hard to walk from the entrance to the bar as it is. Every single man is shoulder to shoulder and bellowing out their lungs to sing along to the out of tune piano in the corner. One of the crew members play a carol behind the janky keys, keeping everyone in tune. As best as he can. Everyone sounds like nails on a broken chalk board. In their drunken haze though they sound like angels of the heavens singing upon humanity with finely aged wine in their hands.

Gist pulls darts from the dart board with a drunken, sloppy hand. He chuckles to himself as he drops one of them, his fingers numb with ale. Shay watches him a couple of feet away, waiting for his first mate to come back with the darts. He sways where he stands, a cheeky grin upon his face as some of his crew members shove and push behind him. Some slapping him on the shoulder and others pestering in his ear.

He’s winning at darts. Against Gist, it’s not much of a challenge. His first mate thought he could best him when lost in drink. But that was his first mistake. Shay has a keen eye and even drunk as a skunk, he’s still able to hit the target. Even if he be a bit off at times, ninety percent he’s spot on.

…Lets make that eighty percent to be on the safer side.

Any other time, Shay would have told his crew members off. Told Gist that he has other matters to attend to. But it’s Christmas. And for the first time, it’s as if Haytham hasn’t got anything for them to do or any leads to go after. Which has led all of them here. Drinking and forgetting about yesterday, tomorrow and today.

Gist spews the darts into Shay’s hand, chuckling to himself as some of them fall out of his captain’s hands. One thing Shay has learnt knowing Gist. Is that the man is always sipping on his flask that he keeps inside of his coat. Leaving him smelling of whiskey at every turn. But, when the man drinks, he turns into a big child. A big man child.

With the darts Shay has, he holds one between his thumb and forefinger. He pinches one eye closed to aim down the board. But that doesn’t help the target from forming two on the wall. He thought one eye would at least get rid of the doubling up. He throws the dart, aiming in between the two hoping that somehow, he’ll get something.

The dart hits the wall with a loud thunk, nowhere near the board. He must be losing his touch tonight. Gist grabs onto the back of his shoulders and shakes him violently.

“You’ve lost, Shay! Another miss and you’ll be buying the next round!” His first mate shouts in his ear.

It’s deafening and Shay shies away from Gist. But his mate pays no attention to his discomfort. His mind is only the on round of ale that is going to be coming his way in mere seconds.

Now Shay can’t miss.

He wipes a hand down his face, feeling the sweat he smears off his brow. He didn’t realize how hot it had become in the tavern until right now. He’s sweating and can feel his shirt and vest sticking to him, coat long forgotten somewhere in the tavern. Just glad he took it off earlier tonight instead of sweating in the leather. Last thing he would want to do his to treat the coat with a massive hangover.

The two dart boards suddenly come together and Shay quickly aims with another dart. If he starts seeing double again, he’s undeniably going to be seeing the last of his coin leave his hand tonight. He aims with both eyes this time, and throws.

Bullseye.

Three men that have been watching the entire game suddenly rise in a roar of cheer. Louder than the carol being sung and only for a moment does it stutter. But it picks right up real quick after. Gist stares at the board with wide eyes before quickly composing himself. He may be a drunk, but he ain’t an angry drunk.

He holds out his hand to Shay with a cheesy grin. His captain takes it, shaking strongly. If Shay has learnt at least one thing tonight, he’s still good at darts while half a barrel in.

“I’ll grab us another round, aye!” Gist says as he’s already pushing himself through the crowd, trying to find the bar within the hoard of other drunken men.

Shay can’t help the chuckle that escapes his throat. He looks around the tavern, spotting many of his crew mingled in with others local to New York. But something catches his eye. In the front window of the tavern.

Haytham.

Haytham stands sideways looking in, inspecting the crowd that’s making the night rowdy. He’s still dressed up in his blue attire with his tricorn hat upon his head. His eyes dart from man to man like a cat watching prey. As if he had been walking past and stopped to see what all the fuss was about.

Shay’s stare is finally met with Haytham’s. The Grandmaster seems to straighten up, his eyes not leaving Shay’s. What is Haytham doing here? Is he looking for Shay? Has something come up? After that thought, Haytham moves off and out of sight.

Shay moves before he’s even thinking. He pushes through the crowd and being a large man himself, he gets through quite easily. He throws the tavern doors open and the cold air hits him in the face, shocking him. He blinks as if waking up from a dream, his eyes adjusting to his surroundings.

It’s faintly snowing. The New York street is already softly covered in a thin layer of white, giving everything a misty feel. Shay quickly spots the back of Haytham’s cloak walking under a lamp light.

“Haytham!” Shay calls out, running to the Grandmaster without thinking.

Too much ale fills his mind to think properly at this time of night. He’s lost track of what hour it is and it must be late. Or early for that matter it could be some time in the morning.

Haytham stops in his tracks under a lamp and turns to Shay, his face as flat as a day with no wind. He may show no emotion, but it’s already warning enough to tread lightly. Shay may have seen this sober, but not tonight. He stops a little too close to Haytham, the strong smell of alcohol scrunching the British man’s nose up slightly.

“What has you out tonight?” Shay asks with a grin.

 “A ponder is all.”

“A ponder out for me?” Shay steps a little closer. “I’m charmed.”

Haytham takes a large step away out of the street light. Shay straightens up suddenly, finally catching the hint. He clears his throat, taking a glance back to the tavern and around. No one is out on the street. They are either inside with their own family and friends or drinking like the rest in the tavern or little ally ways that no one stupid enough is to go down.

Shay licks his lips. “Want to join us?” He offers.

“No,” is all he gets back as blunt as an iron hammer.

Shay reaches out and grabs onto Haytham’s hand. But, unlike many a times before he’s done such a simple act, Haytham rips his own from Shay’s. The captain sobers up real quick then and there. His brows furrow and he stares at Haytham, looking for an answer. All he’s met with though is a cruel glare that Shay knows all too well.

“Like I said, I’m out for a ponder. Nothing more,” Haytham strikes back. “Not here to get drunk over a Christian holiday that marks no greater cause.”

A cord is struck inside of Shay and it hurts a slight. Something that shows clear on his face with a furrowed brow and open mouth. He wishes he could snap. Could say many a things. But this is Haytham Kenway. He cannot and should not. He keeps those angered words to himself.

“I’ll leave you be, Haytham,” Shay takes a small step aways. “I’ll see you morning come.”

With that, Shay heads back to the tavern in a sour mood hanging heavy over his head. Haytham doesn’t reply back, letting him storm back down the way he came. The rest of the night will be spent drinking in sorrow and not glee. Something that Gist catches onto straight away.

Shay gets to the bottom of his free drink of the night before he decides to call it in for Christmas. It wouldn’t even be classified as Christmas anymore since it is the next day already. That wouldn’t matter for the crew until the sun comes up over the horizon.

Alone, Shay plods home with his coat draped over his arm. His hidden blade bracers weigh heavy on his arms and heave down on his shoulders. He feels like he’s dragging his boots across the pavement with each step he takes. By God will he feel this in the morning. If any one were to sneak up on his drunk ass right now, they’d be able to get a few good hits in. So, to prevent that happening, Shay continues plodding.

Shay remembers his early years when he use to live with his aunt. It wasn’t for long, but he got a good few Christmas’s with her. The first one, it hadn’t been too long after his father had passed out at sea. It was the first time that Shay had felt some sort of happiness after those events. Liam had come to visit but he wasn’t there for long. It was just him and his aunt. It was a mellow day, sat around the fire place keeping warm. Yet, it is a memory to a hold tight on. A moment that pops up every time around this time of year.

Somehow, Shay arrives at the bridge to Fort Arsenal unharmed. He huffs as he opens the gates that creak loudly in the night. It scratches at his ears and nearly all of Greenwich would have heard. He locks it behind him and makes his way to the manor.

The front door opens with ease.

Shay lets the door open by itself as he blinks once, twice and thrice. He knows he locked it. He steps in with hesitance and gives a quick sweep of the manor. The fire place is lit, crackling and burning bright as if it’s been eating at the wood for an hour or so.

Haytham sits on the lounge in front of the fire with his hands twinned in front of him. He stares at the fire in his own world, the light flickering over his hardened features. He doesn’t look to Shay or even acknowledge his arrival.

His hat has been placed on the table in front of him and his coat hangs next to Shay’s head at the entrance. He’s made himself at home and waiting like a house wife. Waiting for Shay to get back from his long trip away at sea. Or, waiting for him to get back home from his long day at work. It almost feels like that to Shay, but he can’t help but feel like a child coming home to his aunt waiting to discipline him for being out too late.

Without a word, Shay sits down on the far end of the same lounge from Haytham. He looks into the fire, wanting to see what has Haytham so interested. A coal pops and a half burnt log falls into the ashes. Like fireflies, coal spews up into the chimney.

“Have you ever had a proper Christmas?” The question slips through ale soaked lips.

A silence follows that is filled with thought. Haytham breathes in heavily and releases it with a sigh.

“I don’t think I have,” Haytham admits.

Shay looks to him softly with a better understanding of him. Maybe not much. But those few words are much more than he would have offered to anyone else in the Order or in the street.

“Not even when you were a youngling?” Shay prods.

A lost look comes to Haytham as the fire dances in his eyes. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

“If we had, I was far too young to remember.”

A lie. But one that Shay won’t nudge at. He only hums in reply and looks to the fire a moment more. His eyes droop and his attention wavers as tiredness washes over him like waves. If he stays here any longer, he’ll fall asleep.

With a huff, Shay stands to his feet and walks a couple of steps before stopping. All so that he’s standing on the other side of Haytham.

“Would you like to join me for bed?” Shay asks with a short, outstretched hand.

Haytham finally looks at him, staring to the hand in front of him. The smallest of smiles itch at his lips as he shakes his head just as lightly.

“I won’t join a man that smells as if he’s fallen into a barrel of ale,” Haytham declares with a queer tone.

Shay can’t blame the man. He wouldn’t want to either. Not sober nor even a little tipsy. And he doesn’t think Haytham would get pissed drunk just to join him in bed to help aid his own hangover in the morning.

Instead, Shay leans down heavily with a hand on the arm rest and gives Haytham a soft kiss on the cheek. One that Haytham leans into ever so faintly with closed eyes.

With unspoken words, Shay calls in for the night. All while Haytham recalls his own first Christmas in front of the burning fire. His first Christmas with his father that he can proudly remember.

T’was early in the morning when Jenny had batted him over the face with a pillow. Shouting in his face that Christmas had arrived. That all he was getting was coal in his stockings this year. Haytham had shouted and protested that he had been good. Had raced down the stairs to prove his half sister wrong.

He remembers his father standing by the fire place. He can’t remember his face now. Long blurred and forgotten by events that would take a couple of years later. But he does remember the wide grin that wrinkled his eyes. A smile that made Haytham’s heart bloom something warm.

That day, his father had gifted him something so dear. A model ship. His own model ship that Haytham had kept in his room. Looked upon each night before he fell asleep. Wondered what it would be like to sail out to sea on such a thing. Have the breeze in his hair and the salt on his lips. What an innocent thought for such a young boy.

One that went up in flames like the model ship. One long forgotten until days like this. When everyone around would cheer and celebrate such a wholesome day. Haytham could only sit and think about the what ifs. What if he had sailed, something akin to the freedom that Shay has now. What if he had become the man his father would adore into his adult hood. What if he could remember his father’s face one last night. Not out of shame or pity. But one out of pride and joy.

Only if…

#coco posts #shay cormac #shay cormac fic #shay cormac fanfic #shay cormac angst #shay patrick cormac #shay patrick cormac fic #shay patrick cormac fanfic #shay patrick cormac angst #shaytham #shaytham fic #shaytham fanfic #shaytham angst #haytham kenway #haytham kenway fic #haytham kenway fanfic #haytham kenway angst #assassin's creed rogue #assassin's creed rogue fic #assassin's creed rogue angst #assassin's creed #assassin's creed fic #assassin's creed fanfic #assassin's creed angst #angst #ac rogue #ac rogue fic #as rogue fanfic #ac rogue angst #shay cormac x haytham kenway

[fascinatedhelix]

Those headcanons I promised:

Audrey:

She was always borderline cartoonishly flexible, she just thought she was double-jointed. She never saw a doctor about it - she’s probably like Steven Universe in that she’s probably never been to a doctor before - she just heard that being abnormally flexible means you must be double-jointed and she never questioned it until she learned she was an ink creature.

Audrey definitely didn’t age like a normal human child, if we’re to think that she hadn’t been around when Henry’s soul was basically photocopied into the Machine in 1963, despite her being a young adult in 1973. I’m thinking of a situation akin to that of Studio Ghibli’s The Tale of Princess Kaguya, where she kind of just grew up in fits and bursts in response to emotional highs. It would certainly correspond well to the alarm clock memory, which places a great deal of importance on time on Joey and Audrey’s parent-child relationship; not only was Joey reaching the end of his life, but Audrey was growing up at an abnormally fast rate.

Again, she wasn’t even aware of how abnormal her entire childhood was until Joey clarified that she wasn’t human.

She was likely homeschooled up until high school, when she stopped growing quite so rapidly, and her “choice to forget” happened when she went off to art college in 1967 or 1968. Joey died when she was just about to graduate.

Audrey, outside of the Cycle, tends to be a bit timid and awkward due to her relatively isolated childhood, and hasn’t the foggiest clue how to deal with actual children. She likes them, but she doesn’t really know what to do with them.

She got into a lot of shit during her college years, given how she was an art student during the whole Flower Power movement. She’s still got hippie clothes in her closet, even if she doesn’t wear them on the job for obvious reasons. She has definitely tried out some drugs; whether or not they worked on her given she’s made of ink is kind of a mystery.

Wilson

He’s actually somewhere in his 50s, but looks and sounds a lot older due to a number of health issues.

On the normal side of things, he was born in the 1920s, back before the health effects of smoking were well understood. Both his parents smoked like chimneys around him as a kid, and he picked up the habit in his young adult years as well.

When he was a young adult, he had one hell of an ego; coming from a ludicrously wealthy and very well liked family, young Nathan Jr had all the classic styling of a spoiled rich kid just looking to get into trouble.

One night he decided to try and show off to some of his peers by engaging in a little old fashioned street racing in the expensive new car his dad got him, and wound up causing a deadly car accident as a result. Not only did this accident result in permanent injuries to his face and chest, losing him his looks and one eye in the process, but it also killed several innocent bystanders.

This incident didn’t just have a majorly negative impact on his health, but it utterly trashed his public reputation and his relationships with his family and peers. Nathan Arch Sr had to make a public statement, his mother was shunned from her usual social groups for a while, and people began to really hate Junior for his arrogance and lack of accountability. He was never quite removed from his parents’ inheritance, but he was slowly phased out of their public image in the hopes of saving face. Perhaps most offensive to Nathan Jr’s sensibilities was how his father had explicitly disinherited him from future ownership of Archgate Films, the company Nathan Jr himself had proposed the idea of starting in the first place. Hence why Wilson drifts in and out of the studio under a pseudonym.

He’s also now got a speeding vehicle phobia; if the man does drive himself places, he insists on going, like, ten below the speed limit.

The Ink Demon/Bendy

Due to most of his experiences with physical contact involving him either getting attacked or tortured or him doing the same to others, he tends to interpret his own feelings of loneliness through a lens of bloodthirst. As in, he tends to think along the lines of “Oh, I don’t need a hug, I just need to kill something!” It doesn’t really help.

Similarly, he tends to be rather skittish towards most forms of physical affection, especially the kind that involve some sense of restricting movement (big example: hugs).

If he does experience romantic or sexual attraction, he’d only do so after having established that person in his mind as... well, a person, rather than a threat or a prey item. They’d have to be demonstrably intelligent, rather than yet another lunatic wandering aimlessly about the studio, they’d have to be strong and/or smart enough to challenge him, and they’d have to demonstrate compassion towards him, even if they knew who he was.

Sammy was kind of like a toxic parent to Bendy back in the early days, given that Sammy was the only person really paying him anything close to “positive” attention way back when. It was Sammy’s influence that gave the Ink Demon his sort of need to play the part of a dark overlord over the Cycle, as well as getting him far too accustomed to killing and eating people at a tender mental age (he was like a feral toddler in DCTL). Hence why the Ink Demon does not like Sammy; even if he doesn’t totally recognize Sammy as the cause for a lot of his personal problems, he does see Sammy as overbearing and generally unpleasant to be around (especially since I don’t think Bendy can actually control how others turn out from the ink, so Sammy’s pleas are to someone who’s as helpless as he is).

Here’s kinda how I think the Dark Puddles work: it’s kind of its own entity, with its own mysterious motivations beyond the Ink Demon’s scope of influence. A mysterious magical benefactor that may or may not predate the Ink Machine itself. Whatever the case, the Dark Puddles seem most interested in keeping the Cycle flowing, like the circulation of blood through a beating heart. But, of course, fresh blood has to be added to keep things going smoothly, and the Dark Puddles bestow gifts to those who offer it something new, whether it’s having enough sanity to try something different each rotation or being able to bring in external influences. However, it doesn’t like Wilson, because he is not there to replenish the Cycle, but to stop it completely and turn it into something it isn’t; he intends on usurping the Dark Puddles for his own pride, rather than creating something great for the sake of it.

#bendy and the dark revival #bendy and the ink machine #audrey batdr #batdr spoilers #batdr ink demon #batdr wilson #headcanons

[amethystaurawriting]

Creature Feature Friday: Demons! (a couple days late)

(picture credit: https://unsplash.com/@mateuszklein )

[ I'm not saying black cats are demons, I just imagine Amadeus' eyes being that colour ]

If there was ever a moment to run a red light, Eric was certain that being chased by a demon from hell was that moment.

Liam, as he had coined himself upon entering the mortal world, had stolen what looked like a car from the 1970s, painted in a bright violet that was straight out of Back to the Future. It had wings, a blackened windscreen and two massive headlights which made Eric feel as if he were being hunted by a monster.

He was, actually, but that was beside the point.

“We need to lose him before he flips this car, do something!”

“I ran a red light, what else do you want from me?!”

“Any pussy could run a red light, you little weasel, and it hasn’t made a damn bit of difference, has it?!”

“Maybe if I didn’t have a narcissistic asshole of a demon in my head, I’d be able to focus on losing the narcissistic asshole of a demon who’s trying to run me off the road!”

Amadeus went quiet for a moment and Eric thought he might have pissed him off so much he just disappeared, but no such luck was on his side.

“Turn right!”

“There’s no fucking road on the right!”

“Would you rather end up in hell again with that asshole and no protections from yours truly? Cause that’s what’s about to happen. Turn right!”

Eric looked in the rear view mirror to find Liam close than he had been a minute ago, the headlights brighter in his eyes as he rolled them and then slammed on the brakes, swerving into the field of sheep who moved out of the way quickly at the sight of an oncoming car.

“Happy now?”

“Oh, you can actually listen to advice now, that’s new.”

“Oh fuck off, it’s your fault he’s fucking chasing us in the first place!”

“I haven’t done a single thing to Liam in my life, he must be chasing you. He hates humans.”

“He was never interested in me until you came to this realm and jumped into my body.”

“That’s a coincidence, he’s clearly after you. Have we lost him?”

Eric glanced at the mirror to find it devoid of violet cars intent on murder.

“He’s gone.”

“Good, now turn left up here.”

“If you give me one more direction, Deus-”

“I’m trying to help you!”

“You’re trying to backseat drive.”

“Well I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t such a shit driver.”

“Don’t have roads in Hell, how would you know what a shit driver is.”

“I think running a red light is pretty self explanatory, Eric.”

As Eric took the left turn Amadeus suggested, more headlights came into view. More bloody demons.

“I suppose you haven’t pissed off any of these demons either.”

“Perhaps we shouldn’t have turned left.”

also featured on Instagram @amethystaurawriting

#demons #original content #university project #creative writing #short fiction #creature feature friday #writerscommunity #writing #writers on tumblr

[devildomdisaster]

Comfort spell gone wrong (the dateables)

Anonymous asked: for the lore Olympus ask but with the dateables. (Deleted this ask by accident but here it is)

Comfort spell gone wrong

Not only had the brothers been completely horrible the past few weeks but even your friends in purgatory hall and Diavolo himself had been too busy for you.

You understood that Simeon was busy helping Luke work through some things. But still, being brushed aside after the brothers had been so cruel towards you hadn’t helped your crumbling self-worth.

Solomon had heaved a big sigh and told you “They're demons Mc. It’s what they do. You’re going to have to grow a thicker skin. Besides, I don’t have time to help you with something so trivial.” Before handing you a page from a spellbook “if you really can’t deal with it yourself use this for comfort.”

You’d undeniably ruined Barbatos’s hard work when you’d tripped and tipped over the cake he’d been working on all morning. The demon had shooed you from his domain with barely concealed rage and asked you not to come back until “you can prevent yourself from causing me more work.”

Diavolo, despite always telling you you could come to him with your troubles, had snapped that Solomon seemed to be doing just fine. “So maybe you need to try harder, Mc. Rather than blaming your problems on other people.”

The spell Solomon had given you seemed simple enough. Although it was in an unfamiliar mix of Latin and Infernal. Couldn’t hurt to try though. At least not anymore than you were already hurting. You’d cast the spell, stumbling through a few words and thinking it hadn’t worked when nothing happened. Figures you couldn’t do it, you were still new to magic and just as useless at it as everyone had so kindly reminded you the last few days. It still sapped your energy though, stupid spell. You closed your eyes thinking that maybe it was better that the spell didn’t work. You’d never live down the embarrassment if anyone found out you tried to use a comfort spell.

Lucifer calls the others asking if anyone has seen you, after several days of radio silence from you. Solomon, Luke, and Simeon rush to the house of Lamentation once they hear you haven’t been seen for days. They find Lucifer and the brothers crowded around you, worriedly discussing the spell which has covered you and your room in vines. Babratos and Diavolo are already there, both looking guilty. Solomon feels his stomach drop when he recognizes the page from the spellbook.

“Lucifer, I recognize that spell, I gave it to them when-” Solomon begins

“Yes, it figures you would have your hands in this Solomon.” Lucifer glares.

It’s Simeon who steps forward to undo the spell, giving Luke’s shoulder a comforting squeeze on his way by. “Lucifer if you would,” he says gesturing to your form “this will take both our magics to undo, I believe.”

Solomon:

Shit, shit! Solomon recognizes that spell! He gave it to you.

It wasn’t supposed to do this, it was just a simple comfort spell!

But he can’t help feeling responsible for what's happened.

He feels like he should have known, should have realized something was going on when he gave you that spell.

You’d just wanted to talk, but he was so caught up in trying to find a way to make pacts with the brothers that he totally brushed you off.

He handed you a page out of a spellbook instead. And told you to deal with things yourself.

Solomon is crushed. He has always told you that if you ever need to talk to another human, he’d be there. But he wasn’t. He told you to deal with it alone.

When Simeon and Lucifer break the spell he is by your side in an instant.

Hands fluttering over your body, brushing withering plants off you. Feeling utterly useless.

The spell had gotten so convoluted and twisted in ways he’d never seen before, he hadn’t even been able to break it.

You blink your eyes open, Solomon’s distraught face coming into focus.

“Mc, I shouldn’t have given you that spell. I’m so sorry. I-I said I’d always help you if you needed me but all I did was hurt you instead.”

He wants to distance himself from you. But he knows that won’t make you feel any better. It won’t make him feel better either.

Instead, he’ll be far more careful with the magic he gives you. He’ll start teaching you more magic, so you can practice spells safely.

But he’ll also do his best to make sure you never need a comfort spell again.

He wants to be your comfort.

Solomon will plan elaborate outings and magic filled dates. He gets all these grand ideas and half of them turn into disasters but somehow he’ll make sure the two of you still have fun.

It’s easy for Solomon to forget that he needs to communicate better. But he’s trying. Instead of snapping at you again he’ll be sure to set aside time for himself. Besides, being in the Devildom is more fun with an apprentice anyways, plus teaching you magic gives him plenty of time to make sure you are happy too.

Simeon:

Simeon is shocked when he sees you.

A shiver runs down his spine when he feels the spell sucking the energy from your body.

His eyes don’t miss the botched comfort spell on the ground and he wonders why you didn’t come to him.

And then he realizes. You did. But he brushed you off to help Luke and even when you were hurting you didn’t want to burden him.

He feels like he’s failed you by making you feel like you couldn’t come to him.

When you open your eyes Simeon is the first thing you see.

He gently brushes the plants from your face and hair.

“Oh my sweet little lamb, you are never a burden to me. I am so sorry I made you feel you couldn’t come to me.”

Simeon brings you to Purgatory hall while your room is cleaned.

He gently untangles bits of plant matter from your hair, humming what must be some Celestial lullaby to you.

“Mc,” he begins once he’s removed the remaining plants from your hair and skin, and you’ve allowed yourself to relax into him. “Forgive me, Mc. I should have seen how much you were hurting.”

He is being so gentle with you. But his voice takes a stern edge as he tells you “Next time you feel like this, promise me you will come to me. If you tell me what’s going on I will always have time for you.”

Simeon makes sure to check in on you now, to make time for you. He’ll invite you to Purgatory hall for dinners and/or sleepovers. Oftentimes Luke joins you. But sometimes he’ll sneak you in so the sleepover is your little secret.

Diavolo:

Oh, Mc! He hasn’t seen a spell like this in centuries.

He knows it’s a mistake, but the power it must have taken to cast this spell is impressive.

He’s curious to know what kind of power you’ll have after you’ve been trained properly.

That not to say he isn’t concerned, it's just he knows the spell can be undone, and he finds it easier to deal with the situation if he doesn’t think about how close he came to losing you.

He’ll request that the brothers keep a closer eye on you, not that they weren’t going to anyway.

Diavolo will scoop you from the tangled vines, brushing the remaining vines from your skin as he carries you from your room.

He sits down on his throne, with you still held in his arms. For a moment you're afraid of his thunderous expression.

And then his eyes soften. “Mc,” he whispers. Emotion making his throat tighten, choking off his voice. “Why?”

“Why don’t you find a human who can do better than me Diavolo? You said so yourself, I’m a disappointment.”

“Mc, I didn’t mean! I didn’t want you to-! I didn’t”

He knows what he said. But he never meant for you to take it to heart like this. He was just stressed and he took it out on you.

“I’m sorry, Mc. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you. You haven’t disappointed me. I’m sorry I made you feel like you can’t rely on me. Please understand that I would do anything in my power for you.”

A frightening promise from the prince of the Devildom.

Diavolo is careful to control himself in the future. To prevent himself from letting his stress and anger get the better of him.

Careful to remind you how important you are to him, and not just because you are an exchange student, but because he cares for you.

Barbatos:

Anger. Fear. Barbatos tumbles between the two emotions.

It seems that by placing you in this timeline to protect you from Belphagor’s anger he has put you in a new kind of danger. One he didn’t see coming.

This makes him question his decision not to look into the future more than necessary.

Humans are so fragile. And this is just more proof of that fact.

Barbatos is by your side the moment you wake up.

He is lifting you to your feet and guiding you from your room.

Barbatos is a perfect gentleman as he helps you clean up. Helping you scrub the plants from your skin, wrapping you in the softest blankets.

But he remains silent the whole time.

Once you are safely tucked into bed Barbatos speaks. “Mc, I know I have made you feel useless. I should not have taken my anger out on you. I should have known better.”

For a moment you think he’s going to leave, that that’s all he is going to say.

But then he asks if he can stay with you. If the answer is yes, he’ll curl around you in your bed. Holding you to him as if you are likely to disappear.

It has been a long time since Barbatos has had something or someone he has been afraid to lose. “I’m sorry Mc. Please know you can come to me, even if I may be upset. I’d rather you make me face my shortcomings then lose you.”

Barbatos starts having you over for tea more often. He’ll take you on errands with him, if he thinks you’d find them at all interesting.

Mostly he just wants more excuses to spend time with you.

This made him realize how important you are to him and he’ll make sure you know it.

Luke:

Scared little sibling vibes.

Luke is so scared to see you like this!

You are so still and pale that he thinks you might be dead.

When you open your eyes he is so relieved.

Please don’t scare him like this again!

He’s got tears in his eyes, and he half yells half cries at you “Mc! You- you can’t just do something like this. What if- if you had died? I know these demons-” he shoots a watery glare at the demons “can make you feel sad but you’re my friend.”

He’ll ask you to stay at Purgatory hall for a while. He 100% thinks this is all the brother’s fault.

In fact he wants you to move into Purgatory hall permanently and he is so insistent that Diavolo might just let you if that's what you want.

He’ll make sure you know that he sees you as a big sibling, a friend that he could never replace “so please don’t think nobody cares Mc. I know we’re not really related but you’re like a sibling to me.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me diavolo #obey me diavolo x reader #diavolo x mc #obey me barbatos #barbatos x mc #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me simeon #obey me simeon x reader #simeon x mc #obey me simeon x mc #obey me solomon x reader #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x mc #solomon x mc #obey me luke #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

[levis-hazelnut]

Levi x Reader How To Be The Perfect Boyfriend

Summary: Levi advising others on how to make a woman happy (because men just seem to be oblivious to this and don’t know how to be the perfect boyfriend).

1. Always make time for her, brats. If you try to push her away, she'll find a way to get you to spend time with her.

As always, Levi would wake up after a couple of hours of sleep, which wasn't very healthy for him, and he would start his day. He has breakfast, has a half an hour break to do whatever he wants before his squad awaits him on the training ground. Once their training session finishes, he heads to his office, getting ready to make a start on the paperwork that resided on his desk. And that's when she comes in with a tray and a smile adorning her lips. She placed the tray on the wooden surface and gave him a cup of tea with steam dancing around over it. Levi quietly thanked her as she took her own cup of tea and sat on the edge of the desk. After taking a sip, smoky hues glanced at the face of the person he loved (though, he would never say that aloud unless he was in the mood to be sappy). He shot her a questioning look since she was just staring at him, her tea long forgotten. "What do you want?" he inquired. Without a single word leaving her lips, she leapt off of the desk and made herself comfortable on Levi's lap. He bit back a huff when she buried her face into the crook of his neck and placed butterfly kisses over his skin. "(Y/N), I have a shit ton of paperwork to do." "And...? Are you prioritising your work over me - your wonderful, loving, best ever girlfriend?" she sassed back, removing her face from his neck.

"You know I'm always putting you first. It's just that I want to finish this and deliver it to Eyebrows so he can get off my back." "Fine," the curt word left her lips as she got off of the raven-haired male. "I guess you don't love me anymore." The last thing he saw was a pout before she disappeared into his bedroom. He knew she was doing this just for attention, but he couldn’t sit around like this. Sighing, Levi ran a hand through his hair and scraped his chair against the floor, standing up and walking into the room his girlfriend decided to retreat to. She laid on her side, beautiful, (E/C) orbs on the radiant sky outside the window that was slightly ajar, letting a refreshing breeze into the room. Levi laid behind her, his chest barely brushing her back as he looped his muscular arms around her waist, tugging her closer to him. Even though he couldn't see her face, he could bet that she still forced on a pout that deterred a smirk from appearing. "I'm sorry, (Y/N)," he hummed, kissing the back of her neck. "I can leave the paperwork for later since I don't have to finish it until tomorrow." A smile sprang onto (Y/N)'s lips when she twisted her body around and snuggled into Levi after pecking his lips. He let a smile of his own conquer his lips, even though he was still mildly irritated that she always finds a way to make him waste time. "I love you, Levi." "And you know I do, too, otherwise, I wouldn't be here cuddling with you." 2. Do not call her 'brat' (unless you don't wish to reproduce).

There she was, training a bunch of poor excuses of soldiers meant to protect humanity. Yeah, well, forget about them, they have no significance. Only the woman teaching them does. She stood there with a wrinkle formed in between her brows, yet a miniature smile rested on her soft lips. Her arms were crossed over her chest as her melodic voice sounded over the hushed voices of scouts who had the fucking audacity to talk over her. She could obviously hear them, but being the generous person she is, she didn't bother in shouting at them. Or maybe it was because she knew it wouldn't make them stop. Anyway, back to her beautiful self: her luscious tresses danced with the faint breeze that caressed her face, which held glistening eyes, a boopable nose, and lips that Levi made swollen. Then, let's go to her amazing body that Levi has caused to ache and covered it in love bites and such. If you're getting sick of the description, just imagine the sexiest goddess and multiply her beauty by fifty. You'll still be nowhere near imagining the woman standing there, but it's the closest you could get. Once the scouts got to training and (Y/N) just watched over them, her boyfriend came into sight as he approached her. "Hey, my love," she beamed. "Hi, brat," Levi replied and was about to peck her nose, however, that didn't happen when he stumbled back when his girlfriend pushed him. A frown danced on his face. "What the hell are you doing?" "Don't call me 'brat'," she growled and edged closer to him before thrusting her knee into a place that seemed as if it had an effect on the boys watching as they all winced and let out sounds of pain. The Corporal dropped to the ground as his 'wonderful, loving, best ever girlfriend' smirked down at him before facing her squad. "Girls, this is how you deal with jerks that don't know how to treat you right. Now, get back to training!" After her little piece of advice, (Y/N) turned back around to the groaning Levi, sprawled on the floor. "Love ya, my honey," she piped and crouched down to peck his forehead. Fucking brat... Levi thought once her lips touched his skin. 3. Show that you love her; randomly attack her with affection, or just cheer her up when she's down, or simply keep her company while she's relaxing. Cheesy shit like that (do excuse my language, dipshits).

The sun beamed down on the training grounds (though, the sun could never compare to her smile) where scouts were lazing around because of the heat smouldering them. Levi could care less since he wasn't in the mood to scold them or train them. So, he headed over to (Y/N), who took cover under the shade of a tree that loomed over her as if protecting her. She sat down cross-legged on the emerald grass, leaning her back against the trunk of a tree as she had a book in her lap. As to not disturb her too much, Levi quietly neared her before settling on the grass beside her. She gazed at him with a tender smile touching her lips before facing the book again. He draped an arm around her shoulders and made her rest her head on his shoulder as he started to run his hands over her (H/C), silky tresses. The action soothed both of them. Shortly, lips softly pressed against the top of her head, which made her put the book down as she lifted her head off of Levi's shoulder to face him. A smirk stained his lips and (Y/N) leaned forward to kiss him. Fingers tangled themselves in her hair as she placed a single hand on his shoulder and shuffled closer to him. Teeth gently nibbled on her bottom lip and she parted them, letting his tongue slip into her mouth and dance with her wet muscle. A soft sigh left her lips and vibrated against his before they pulled away. (Y/N) licked the string of their combined saliva away, leaning her forehead against Levi's. No words were spoken, but that didn't matter since no words were needed. ~/~ Everyone had distress written all over their faces after another miserable expedition. Many losses, many injuries, many disasters. And everyone included (Y/N). She was in her room, lying down in her bed with the covers encasing her as she quietly sobbed, clutching a piece of fabric against her chest. Marie, her best friend that she's known ever since she joined the Survey Corps, had died on this expedition. She hadn't been there to try to save Marie and she blamed herself for that. She blamed herself for being a terrible friend. "(Y/N)?" Levi softly called once he padded into her bedroom. He got no response, except sobs as he approached her. The raven sat on the edge of the bed and gently tugged (Y/N) onto his lap and cradled her, tucking her head under his chin. He hushed her like a mother to a child and rubbed comforting circles on her back.

He knew anything he tried to do would be useless since it was her best friend that she lost. Losing anyone was difficult, but losing someone that was close to you was something that no one wished to experience. "... I-I wasn't eve-en th-there in h-he-er... last mo-oments-s..." "Shh. It’s not your fault, my love." With some more calming words, her sobs soon quietened and there were only a few tears. Levi forced her to get ready for bed and sleep since she hasn't rested since they came back from the expedition. Her boyfriend changed into something more comfortable before crawling in next to her. He wrapped his arms around his girlfriend protectively and pulled her close, promising that he'll keep her safe, no matter what. ~/~ The (H/C)-haired female stared out of her open window, watching over the scouts that messed around on the training grounds as a subconscious smile fell on her face. She was so engrossed in the azure sky, the puffs of white, the luminous spotlight and the scouts, that she didn't even hear her office door open. She continued smiling and staring until a fit of giggles suddenly took over. She tried slapping away the hands that tickled her sides and squirmed in her spot before slowly dropping to the ground as fingers proceeded to tickle her further. "Levi!! Stop, stop!! Levi, seriously...! I'm going to pee myself!" she said in between giggles and pants, trying to push the human on top of her off. Soon, there was no movement, only (Y/N)'s chest rising and falling as she caught her breath and gazed into grey hues. Once oxygen was back into her lungs, slightly chapped lips moulded with hers for a slow dance as she was pinned to the floor. "What was all this for?" she whispered with a grin when their lips parted. "I was bored and you were off guard." "Hm. I love you so much, Levi," she hummed and brushed his ebony locks back from his forehead. "I love you so much, too," he murmured before smashing his lips against hers once more. 4. Never call her a monster when she's on her period. Also, always attend to her needs before said monster comes out.

Levi just barely dodged the book that was thrown at him as he retreated into his office, trying to take cover from the monster that lay in his bed. Though, he shouldn't call her monster anymore since the book was launched at him for that very reason. Not wanting to interact with the beast any further, he sat at his desk and finished off the pile of paperwork that decided to wander onto the surface. "Levi!!” At the scream of his name, the aforementioned male's hand had slipped and caused the ink to ruin the page. He clicked his tongue as quietly as he could before getting up and leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom. "Yes?" "Could you get me some mint tea, my darling?" she asked with an innocent voice. "Okay," Levi said and walked away, leaving to get (Y/N) tea, being the amazing boyfriend he is. "Levi!" What's the fuck is wrong now? Levi groaned internally before facing her once again. "When you come back, can you cuddle with me?" "... Sure." "Okay. Thank you, my sweetheart." Finally, he was able to leave his office and not have to her screaming his name. Yeah, she was in a bed, but he would prefer if he was in that bed with her as she screamed his name. However, he can't do that right now. Levi made (Y/N) her tea before going back to his room and giving it to her. She took a sip, let out a satisfied sigh before yanking the short male down onto the bed. Damn, even though she's in pain, she's fucking strong. His chest collided with hers before he rolled onto the side, embracing her and rubbing circles on her abdomen that seemed to help her. "Levi?" "Hm?" "Do you hate me?" "... No." Ah, the hesitation. Why did he hesitate? If he didn't, everything would be fine. "I said: Levi, do you hate me?" she repeated, gritting her teeth. "Of course not, darling. I love you more than you could ever imagine." Ugh, those words made him feel nauseous, but if it meant he could keep his head, he would say it.

Well, it's not like he was lying. 5. Help her. She may be terrifying and strong at times, but she still acts like a damsel in distress when she's perfectly fine.

Levi sat at his desk, pen in hand as his eyes grazed over the words written on a piece of paper that resided on his desk. It was almost fucking midnight and he had to send in this report to Erwin by tomorrow morning. Distracting him from his work, (Y/N) stumbled into his office and dropped a tray that held two cups of tea. He barely regarded her before getting back to his task, knowing she was glaring at him, but decided to do nothing about it. "Levi!" "What do you want?" he muttered. "Would you mind helping me?" "You're the one that dropped it." Her eyes narrowed and she clenched her fists before standing up and storming over to his desk. This is when he finally decided to look at her when she towered over him with her index finger pointing towards him. "You're such a jerk, you know." "I know. Go clean up that mess." She sighed and flicked his forehead before doing as he said, no matter how impolite he was being. Once she wiped up the tea with wipes and a spray, she started to clean up the shattered glass. As she did that, Levi crouched down in front of her and helped his girlfriend, who just stared at him. "Stop looking at me like that, just be grateful I'm helping your clumsy ass." She smiled before quietly hissing in pain. Concern flickered in the raven's eyes, but soon confusion appeared when she was still smiling. "I'm fine. I just got a bit of glass in my finger." The female with (E/C) eyes stood up and put her finger in the light so she could see the glass. A shadow prevented that from happening as Levi took her hand and easily removed it before putting it into a tissue. "Thank you, my love,” she beamed. 6. Push bitches away. Once you do that, show her that she's the only one you want.

Levi had been forced to go to a ball of sorts with Erwin and Hanji. But of course, he despises snobby shitheads and pigs flaunting their money, so why would he want to go to an event full of those creatures? After much complaining, Erwin had told him that he could bring (Y/N) along, and that had shut Levi up. And there they were, dressed in formal clothes as they followed Erwin around, conversing with people. "This shit's boring as hell," Levi murmured to his beloved who had hooked her arm with his. "Do you want to dance?" "Are you stupid? I hate dancing." "Oh, come on, baby. We've danced before." "Yeah, I did that for you. I'm not doing it again. Not even if it would get rid of titans." "Fine... Could you get me a drink, please, then?" "Sure." She let Levi go over to a table and get drinks for both of them as she wandered over to Hanji who was talking to some woman. The brunette gave (Y/N) a grin before introducing her to the woman she was talking to. "It's nice meeting you, (Y/N). And I just want to say that the man you were walking with is gorgeous." "Yes, he definitely is," she smiled. Only Hanji knew that it was a fake smile. "I'm lucky since I've been with him for a few years now," she made sure to add, so this woman knows to stay the fuck away. "Oi, you lot, get off of me," Levi snarled, trying to push a couple of women away and making sure not to spill the drinks he was holding. "Well, you have nowhere to go, do you now?" one of them spoke, batting her eyelashes and dragging a finger from his collarbone down to his waistband. He put a glass down on the table and slapped that hand away before it could go further, shooting the woman a glare. "Touch me one more fucking time and you're going to lose that hand," he threatened darkly. Levi doesn't care who he's talking to, be it a woman or not. No one touches him like that. Yeah, right now, he sounds like a dickhead for treating women like this, but he would be even more of a dickhead if he didn't attempt to push them away when he has the most perfect woman by his side. "And I actually do have a place to go to. You see, my girlfriend over there wants to dance. You know the one in that icy blue dress? Yeah, that's her. And, oh look, she sees me so she's going to slap every single one of you if you don't fucking get your shitty hands off of me." Hm. Looks like that scared them, Levi smirked mentally once they all decided to move away. He straightened his clothes and passed (Y/N) a glass of wine as she glared at the women that scurried away. "Come, let's dance," the Corporal slipped her hand into his and led her to the other dancing couples. "I thought that you didn't want to dance." "I will if it means that those b*tches will leave me alone." The (H/C)-haired female gave Levi a tender smile (she knew that it wasn't because of that reason) as she placed one hand on his shoulder as the other clutched his hand. The raven's other hand rested on her waist before they swiftly danced as (E/C) and grey clashed. (Y/N) lifted her hand off of Levi's shoulder and he spun her around before bringing her back close to him. Soon, their dancing slowed down and all they focused on was each other's eyes before standing completely still amidst the other couples that moved their way around the hall. Levi rested his forehead against the one of the woman he loved, their lips barely brushing. However, a couple bumped into them which disrupted their moment that felt as if they were the only two people in the room. Levi caught his beloved before she could tumble over. Looking to see who it was, grey hues met blue and brown ones. Hanji and Erwin. "Tch." "Hi, (Y/N), Shorty! Keep your kissing for later." 7. If you love her as much as you claim to, propose. That will make her feel as if she's the happiest woman alive (and it will make you feel as if you’re the happiest man alive).

(Y/N) and Levi laid in bed together, entangled in each other's arms with their legs overlapping as they peacefully slept. (Y/N) had her face hidden in the crook of Levi's neck as her chest pressed against his. The raven tucked her head under his chin as his arms rested around her naked figure. They had stayed up most of the night, doing things. And the good thing is that everyone had a day off today so they could sleep in as much as they wanted. They may miss breakfast, but that didn't matter. The sunlight scattered through the curtains in Levi's bedroom, resting on his girlfriend's face which caused her to close her eyes tighter as a frown settled onto her visage. She turned away from the light, which meant turning her back to her boyfriend, who quietly groaned. He subconsciously tugged her closer to him and buried his nose in her hair. A yawn left her lips as she slowly opened her eyes, blinking a few times. She smiled at the feeling of Levi's arms that kept her warm and safe before closing her eyes again. When she did that, she felt light kisses peppering over her neck, causing a sigh of delight to leave her lips as lips trailed down her spine. He went further down and nipped on one of her butt cheeks so she let out a small yelp and lifted her foot to kick him. Of course, however, she had no idea where she was aiming. A grunt sounded and the grip on her loosened. "You really don't want kids, do you?" he grumbled in his husky, morning voice that also hinted with pain. "You want kids? Even though you hate brats?" she snapped with her back still facing him. She felt his hands travel over her hips to find her hands. He acknowledged which hand was which and took her left one in his. "If they're yours, I want them after we get married," he hummed, slipping something light and cold onto her finger. "... Wait... No. Are you joking? Levi, I swear, if you're joking, I'll straight-up murder you," she threatened after turning around to face him when she noticed a smile resting on his lips. "I'm not joking. I'm being serious," he chuckled lightly. "I love you, (Y/N). I don't want to lose you and I always want you by my side. So, (Y/N) (L/N), will you marry me?" "You idiot, of course, I will," (Y/N) sobbed and embraced her, now, fiancé. "I love you so fucking so much." And that, brats, is how to be the perfect boyfriend. You're welcome, dumbshits - by Levi.

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot #aot fanfiction #aot imagines #snk #snk fanfiction #snk imagines #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #x reader #reader insert #anime #levi will be the best bf #him with slicked back hair? beautiful #where do i get a levi ackerman

[dabiboy]

Hawks and reader are both virgins, doing it for the first time ! The mans busy, he hasn’t got a chance to smash yet 😆

I’m so so so so sorry this one took me ages 😭 I finished it just now, after like two weeks, hope you enjoy it!

[Warnings: NSFW, protected sex, virgin Hawks and reader, curses] Word count: 4343.

Free Fall 

''I really don't understand why did we have to travel all around the globe to see a suspect.'' You whined as you left the bags in the middle of Keigo's apartment.

''Commission rules, you know how they are kid. Can't tell them no'' Keigo walked across the apartment stretching his wings wide, it was lucky that he didn't break anything.

You and Hawks worked together, you were not trained by the commission but they were aware of your abilities, and decided that you and Hawks should work with each other. And that's how you ended traveling to California, but the guys they had checked was just a suspect, and it turned out that he had nothing to do with your case, so in order not to waste more time you had to fly back all the way to Japan. And there you were, feeling tired as hell in Hawk's apartment.

''I hate them so much'' You said again, taking your shoes off. ''Mind if I take a shower?''

''Go ahead, and you need it. You stink'' Keigo teased as he let himself fall on the couch.

You were not only working partners, but the two of you were also very good friends, trusting enough to ask him to get a shower. And even borrowing one of his shirts without asking him. So that's what you did when you got out. The bathroom was inside his room, so the first thing you saw when you got out was the large and comfy bed. Damn, you wish you could just lay there and have some good sleep. His bedroom was rather big, kinda messy but tidy at the same time, and it smelled like him, his perfume and scent. Maybe it was a bird thing, you thought. But it wasn't uncomfortable, on the contrary. It was nice.

After picking a random Keigo's shirt, you went back to the living room, and the blonde man's eyes went wide at your image. His shirt too big for your body, covering almost half of your thighs. Naked thigs. Maybe later you were going to ask him for a sweatpant.

"Earth to Hawks?" You called him with a smile by the third time. "You good?"

"What? Yeah, I just love that shirt" he could say.

"Oh, should I take it off? I don't mind"

"No, keep it on. It looks good on you" he scratched the back of his head as he stood up "I will take a shower too. Are you crushing here tonight or want me to fly you home? It is pretty late though"

"Oh, I'm not a damsel in distress, winged hero" you lifted an eyebrow "but I was thinking of staying, I feel too lazy to go out. Besides it is cold as hell" you pouted.

"Oh shut up" Keigo let out a low chuckle "Ok then, make yourself home" that was the last thing he said before heading to the bathroom.

The truth was, that things between you were kind of complicated. You had a crush on him, but you were good at hiding it. How could you not fall for someone like him? He was funny, caring, handsome, a bit of an asshole but that was part of his charm. However, you knew him a bit more than the rest. You had seen him worried after you got injured on a mission, or sad whenever he had failed. Or done something he wasn't proud of. You even knew his real name, but it was not common to call him like that.

But it thinking about it was not making things different. He was a busy man, and he should have an army of women behind him, there was no way he had the same feelings for you. You were just friends. That's it.

Minutes went by, and after drying your hair you went back to Hawk's room, it was about time to borrow those sweat pants. However, you got distracted when you saw the view from his room; the entire city shining at your feet. Your eyes went bright to at such beauty.

"What are you looking at?" A Keigo dressed in a tank top and grey sweatpants took you out of your thoughts.

"The city looks so pretty from here" you smiled "so many lights and colors. Don't you get distracted when you fly?"

"Yeah, sometimes when I'm just patrolling. Most times I don't even pay attention to it. To busy fighting the bad guys y'know" he laughed and stood next to you. ''It is not as bright as your smile, though'' Did he think his words? he didn't.

You felt your cheeks getting a bit red, what did he mean by that? He had it so clear. Since the day you walked into his office, he felt his blood rushing through his veins, the need to talk to you, to get to know you overwhelmed him. There was no way a jerk like him could get close to you. But it changed when you started working together, and it was as if two pieces of a puzzle finally found each other, working in perfect sync.

He looked back at you, a shy smile still plastered on his face. It isn't worth it to tell her how I feel, she must have a lot of guys waiting for her, Keigo thought. Or maybe he should risk it all, fuck it.

''Y/n? I-You'' He stopped ''You're the best sidekick I've had'' That was a compliment? You're an idiot, Hawks. He said to himself.

''Well, thank you. You make it easier though'' You gave him a sided smile as you left a strand of your hair behind your ear.

''Yeah, anytime'' Keigo smiled back at you.

There was a moment of pure silence between the two of you. His golden eyes were stuck on yours as yours were on his. You could swear he was analyzing every detail of your face, and you couldn't help but make your eyes take a little trip on his facial traits too. Smiles vanished as both of you realized what was happening, yet no one wanted to talk about it. Or let it out. Finally, Keigo parted his lips to let out some words but he got interrupted by his phone ringing.

''Shit, sorry. Gotta take this one'' He apologized, turning away from you quickly in an attempt of hiding his blush. He hated whoever was calling.

In the meantime, you let out a sight. It was the first time he had been so close to you, so close it was possible to see the definition of his stubble, a stronger color in his eyes, details that daily were unnoticed. Maybe you were crazy and those were hallucinations.

Getting away from your thoughts, you got closer to the big window, resting your hands on it as you look down drawn by the lights. But you had no idea that the window was not closed. Keigo left it open when he got out the last time. And there you were. Everything happened in a split of a second, the big window opening, you feeling the weight of your body being pulled down by gravity, Keigo ending his call and turning back at you. His eyes went wide and his wings puffed immediately.

That was it? That was the end of your life as a hero and as a human being? All those years of intense training were vanishing in a second. What the hell could you do if you were free-falling?

But there was one detail you forgot. Hawks was there.

His reflexes worked on time when he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you back in with the help of his wings to get the right amount of strength. He couldn't lose you, not before telling you everything he felt.

You ended up falling anyway, but not from the last floor of the building. You fell right on the floor, over the winged hero who had you secure in his arms. Keigo's wings hurt when he fell with his back on the floor, but you were fine. That's all he cared about.

''Shit kid, you good?'' He asked you, panic still present in his voice as he looked at you.

''Yes, damn that was so quick'' You let out a nervous laugh, and waited for a few seconds for him to set you free from his strong grip. ''Uhm, Hawks? You can-You can let me go now'' This time there was no nervousness from almost falling, they were because of the little distance that was between the two of you, the way his hands felt on your back and how his body felt against yours. Suddenly, his body started shivering lightly, and the following words just slipped out of his mouth.

''No, I can't. I really fucking can't... Ever'' He whispered that last word.

''What do you me-''

''Fuck it''

That was all you could hear before he slammed his lips on yours. It was a messy and shy kiss, but you felt even dizzier than when you were about to fall. He tasted like mint, and the way his stubble tickled your chin felt amazing. Your lips moved softly against him, in an attempt to calm him down.

''I like you. I fucking like you, y/n'' He said, eyes pleading for a positive answer ''I can't let you go cause I don't wanna be away from you. I just can't''

''Hawks...'' You whispered ''I-''

''Listen, you don't have to say it back. I know you must have lots of guys waiting for you, and better than me. With normal lives and-'' This time, you interrupted him crashing your lips with his one more time.

''I like you too, and there's no one else'' You said when your lips were still slightly touching ''You never leave my head, Hawks''

If someone were looking at that scene, they could notice the tension from miles away. And then they would ask, why do they keep wasting time? Hawks lifted his head to kiss you once more, this time eagerly. His hands found home on your hips as you softly rested your hands on his chest.

You felt your heart racing, it was the first time you found yourself in such a circumstance. It felt odd yet familiar, you didn't want it to stop. Daringly and as if it was an agreement the kiss turned into a heated one, his tongue caressing yours with need but with shyness.

''Call me Keigo'' He whispered as he sat on the floor, wings wide open.

You tangled your legs on his waist, feeling totally unsure about it. Was he comfortable? Was it like that? Those feelings and emotions you were experiencing, were normal? Thousands of questions roamed through your head as you continued kissing him. And then you felt it again, his hands shivering on your hips.

''You okay?'' You asked him tenderly, a hand caressing his cheek.

''Yeah, it's just...'' He looked away, hiding from your eyes. ''I've never...'' His golden eyes were looking at you again. Embarrassed, shy, and even scared. ''Damn, this must be so depressing'' Keigo scoffed, drifting his eyes away one more time. However, you felt a relief inside of you. And you couldn't help laughing a bit awkwardly.

''It's fine, I... I haven't either'' You shrugged your shoulders, his eyes lighted up looking up at you.

''Really?'' you nodded ''We can stop it here, though. I can go take another shower and-'' You shut him up again.

''I want you'' a whisper left your lips, sending shivers down his spine. You could feel now his hard crotch against you and your cheeks turned red.

''Are you sure you want me to be your first?'' Keigo's voice was almost unhearable, and you melt in tenderness when he caressed the back of your head with such affection.

''Are you sure?'' You laughed nervously.

''Totally'' His smile could brighten an entire city, and that night it was shining just for you. He moved a bit, creating friction between you and him. You let out a surprised yet pleasing whimper ''Shit, sorry''

''Don't worry, isn't that what is this all about?'' You laughed again.

''Yeah, you're right'' A kiss on your chin ''Come here''

He lifted you with ease so he could lay you down on his bed. And it was as comfortable as you thought it was. After a long struggle of getting rid of Keigo's shirt between laughs and jokes, he was kissing you tenderly and fiercely, feeling his own body shiver under your touch. You took the time to appreciate his body. It was not as muscular as other pro heroes, but his muscles were still well defined.

His lips on your neck feel like heaven, the way he kissed and lick your kiss had you wanting more, but the fear and the doubt were there too. And he could feel the exact same thing. Keigo's shaking hand move to the end of the shirt you were wearing. Once it was off, you tried to cover yourself. You were supposed to sleep in the guest's room that night, therefore wearing a bra after a long trip was not the best idea, but nothing said that you were going to be under Keigo's body.

He sat on his knees looking at you, jaw hanging low as he licked his lips.

''Shit, your gorgeous'' You heard him say as he crawled back to you again, kissing your mouth ''Can I touch you?'' His voice was still low, and even though he was trying to keep it cool the way his body was reacting was betraying him.

''Of course'' You said biting your lower lip.

His hand moved down until it reached your breast, cupping it delicately. He let out a sigh over your lips when he felt your hardening nipple against his palm. The slow squeezes were amazing. You were human, you had needs. You had done that before trying to stimuli yourself, but his touch was nothing compared to his. His was magical.

''I want to...'' Keigo said to himself as he lowered his face towards your chest. He licked your nipple and you moaned loud enough for him to hear it. He repeated his actions, kissing the underside of your breasts, sucking them tenderly, and trying to make you feel good. And God he was wishing he was doing it well. As he carried on with his not so shy ministrations, your hands touched his torso, feeling his warm skin on your hands. It was possible to feel his hard length pressing against your thighs, and surrendering to the temptation you played with the edge of his pants.

''Is it Ok if I-''

''Please do'' His voice came out a few octaves low as he went back to kiss your neck.

Carefully you slid one hand inside of his sweatpants, and he wasn't wearing underwear. How convenient. You gripped his hard cock on your hand, and your mouth went open in surprise. It was thick. And long. You gulped as you started moving your hand up and down, blushing when he bucked his hips.

''You can do it a bit tighter'' He said with a shy smile, and you did what he said ''Fuck, yes. Just like that''

The way his heavy breath was on your ear was working you up faster than you thought. And instinctively you moved your hips towards him as well. Keigo used one hand to get in between the two bodies, sliding his middle finger down your slit, trembling at how wet you were. It felt nothing like the porn videos he used to watch on the nights he needed some relief. A moan escaped your lips when you felt his finger on you, moving slow and even a bit fearfully.

In an attempt of digging your free hand on his back, it landed on one of his wings. They weren't as sharpened as you used to see them whenever he was fighting or patrolling, they were soft. You moved your hands through the feathers, but just when you did an erotic moan left his throat.

''Fuck don't do that, I won't last long if you touch my wings'' His voice was tight, making you knew that it was a sensitive area.

''Sorry'' You said, kissing his jaw ''They're just so soft'' The way you spoke in his ear sent shivers down his spine again, and as you kept stroking him he said in between breaths.

''I need you'' His voice was low but filled with excitement at the same time.

''Do you have a-'' Keigo finished for you.

''A condom, shit. Yes I do''

He suddenly remembered. Every single feeling was overwhelming him, it was the very first time he was in such a situation with a woman, and not with any woman. With you, the one who stole his breath from the very first time, the one that took care of his wounds, the one he tried to protect every day.

He stood up from the bed quickly, moving to the nightstand that was next to it. Nervously he looked among all the useful and useless things, and then he found them. Keigo remembered that night clearly, how one of his drunks friends at the party held in his apartment had told him to use them with some hot chick, but instead, he just kept them on the nightstand. To busy to do that while he was saving the world.

Going back to the bed he sat on his knees right in front of you. His chest was cleary moving up and down as he stared at you, and you could tell you were looking the same. Shy, exposed, uncertainty in your head, but confidence was in your head too. You trusted him with your life, and your feelings for him were strong. You just had to take that leap of faith. That free-falling.

''I will... Can I take them off?'' Keigo asked, looking at your still clothed sex.

''Yes'' you managed to say, feeling your face burn in embarrassment.

Carefully, he slipped the cotton piece down your legs, making you completely exposed to him. Your breathing became erratic, what was he going to think? Was it ok? But his eyes, his eyes were yelling his thoughts. They looked brighter, and the golden melted in them seemed shinier than never. Keigo licked his lips and swallowed at the image in front of him, and almost as a primal instinct he slid a finger on your wetness, making you and him moan.

''Fuck you're so wet'' He murmured, repeating his actions.

''Is that good?'' you asked timidly and a humming sound was made with your throat when he slid a finger along your cunt again.

''As far as I know, it is'' He laughed nervously. It was calming to know you weren't the only one feeling like that.

Your eyes went wide when he pulled his pants down, his cock sprang free from its confines, and just as you felt it when you stroke it earlier it was thick and long, not extremely big but it had a good size. And honestly a scary one for a first time. Even for him. With shaky hands Keigo opened the silver package, and after fast seconds he rolled the condom down his length.

''Ok,'' He took a deep breath, leaning close to you again. You moan when his erection rubbed your entrance, and you could feel your heart beating like crazy inside your chest. ''You sure about this?'' Keigo asked one last time.

''I am,'' You said ''But be gentle'' You said holding your breath for a short while.

''Sure thing'' He said above your lips ''I'm not less nervous than you are'' Keigo laughed, and the sound of it felt like peace among the sea of emotions you were at. ''I don't wanna screw this up'' Now he looked at you, eyes full with concern.

''It doesn't have to be perfect'' You reassured him, caressing his face, making him nod like an excited child who was trying to hide their emotion.

''I'm gonna do it'' A kiss on your lips ''Just tell me if it hurts and I'll stop, ok?''

After agreeing with his statement you looked at him getting on his knees again, pulling you closer to him. He spread your legs once he was in between them and with a shallow breath he grabbed his length, aligned it on your entrance. Softly he pushed his hips towards you, and a sharp pain made you close your eyes.

''Shit, are you good?'' Keigo stopped his motions immediately, not even thinking about the heat taking over his body.

''Yeah, you can go on'' You said clenching your jaw, adjusting to him.

He moved his hips a bit more, and a loud moan filled your ears. That felt a lot better than his hand. Keigo kept pushing slowly, hating the fact that he was hurting you. But it was supposed to stop, wasn't it? You moaned again, this time with a mix of pain and pleasure.

''Fuck your big'' You managed to say, closing your eyes again as he started to pull out slowly again.

''Sorry, not my fault'' He joked to lighten the mood. He bit his lower lips trying to oppress another moan. And without even pulling out completely he thrust inside you again, as slow as the first lunge. ''I... I need to move'' He said, closing his eyes with strength too.

You gave him a nod right after digging your fingers on his shoulders. Keigo's hips started moving again, a soft and steady pace as he was filing you up. He cursed at the feeling, so warm and so tight, he thought. It was hard to keep that steady pace with each thrust, but he waited. Waited until you felt comfortable enough.

The pain was becoming less by the second, at it was being replaced with pleasure. He felt so good, all of him. Not only the way he felt inside you, but the comfortable weight of his body on top of yours, his fresh scent after the shower, the praises he was whispering in your ear, all of that was bigger than the pain you felt with those first movements. And you loved it. It was with one specific thrust he hit the perfect spot, making you throw your head back and moan loudly, tangling your legs on his waist.

''More'' You said.

Maybe it was your instincts talking, but you didn't care. You wanted him, all of him.

Keigo's movements became sloppier, messier. He had never felt that way before, but it was amazing. And the truth was, that he wanted more as well. He moaned lowly, burying his face in your neck as he started pounding faster and deeper. You felt that tension building in your lower stomach, and when he twitched inside of you something tell you it was about to end.

''Fuck I'm close'' He said with a drowned voice.

''Do it, Keigo'' You caressed the back of his head while you whispered in his ear, the coldness of his earing feeling better than it should. How could a simple detail make you shiver?

Your hand traveled down his neck, to his back, and then to his wings. Another loud moan escaped his lips when your fingers dug in his feathers, playing softly with them. Lots of 'fucks' were leaving Keigo's mouth, and moans were leaving yours when he needly sped up.

And there it was. Something hit you, and it sent you right to the place where you could see the music and listen to the colors. You rolled your eyes to the back of your head, bucked his hips towards him as you fell into a void of just pleasure.

Keigo bit your neck as a growl was made with his throat, his hips still moving a bit as he came undone. His sweaty forehead landed on yours, and he couldn't control the urge to kiss you deeply.

''You good?'' He asked when he ran out of breath.

''Never been better'' You said with a lazy smile on your face, making him chuckle.

''I lasted too little'' Keigo almost apologized, as if that was a bad thing. Once again you caressed his face, pulling him in for another kiss.

''It was perfect'' You whispered in between his lips.

''Was it?'' A tiny smile appeared on his face ''Stay tomorrow. Let's have lunch, like a proper date. What do ya' say, mhm?'' He said, using the tip of his nose to trace your cheek.

''It was'' You assured him. Eyes went wide in joy and surprise at his proposal ''You won't be able to get rid of me, then'' You lifted an eyebrow in an attempt of being cocky but laughing right after.

''Fine with me'' Now it was him the one who was smiling cockily. His lips were on your again, smiling between the kiss. ''I guess you're not staying in the guest's room tonight, right?'' He looked at you, using his arms to make you free from his weight. He pulled out, and the two of you moaned lowly again.

''I wouldn't even think about it, I've been wanting to cuddle with you for so long'' You admitted making him laugh.

''Well that makes two of us'' A kiss on your chin ''You'll get all the cuddles you want'' A kiss on the tip of your nose.

''But first, we gotta take another shower''

''Yes, this is so messy'' Keigo laughed and threw the preservative to the trash bin next to the bed.

''Keigo'' You called him out of nowhere, and he looked at you like a confused bird at such a sudden call. ''I like you. A lot'' A shy smile was on your lips. He smiled widely.

''I like you too. So, so much'' He whispered, and pulled you in for another tender kiss. Good things were to come.

#hawks x reader #hawks headcanons #hawks #my hero academia hawks #mha hawks #hawks imagine #hawksbnha #hawks smut #keigo x y/n #bnha keigo #keigo takami imagine #keigo takami #keigo x you #keigo imagine #keigo takami smut #keigo takami mha

[annab-nana]

Twitches & Stitches - Peter Parker

You are a worrywart and along with other problems in your life, Peter being Spider-Man doesn’t really help to keep you calm. One night when he gets hurt, your own body tells him you're stressed before you do.

Warnings: some curse words; blood and wounds

Word Count: 3.2k+

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“Holy shit, Peter!” you exclaimed when you saw the battered and bruised boy through your window in the middle of the night. If you were not expecting him, the sight would’ve really scared you though seeing him in the state he was in wasn’t exactly calming. “Why are you here?”

He needed a hospital with a real doctor, not you with your Spider-Man band-aids and your little first aid kit. The left side of his abdomen was grazed with some kind of burn and his right thigh took a larger hit, looking similar to his side but much worse. Blood dripped from his nose, his busted lip, and the cut on his upper cheek near his eye. His eyes were clearly red and puffy, one of them starting to form a bruise around the socket. Scrapes, scratches, and small cuts littered his body everywhere else. You knew he was going to be sore and in pain for a little while even given his rapid healing abilities. As you ran to get a towel from the other side of your room, he held his wounded side with one hand and frantically pushed his sweaty curls back with the other.

“You always help clean me up. I thought you liked to do it. I can get May to help if you don’t want to right n-”

“No Pete, I do like that you come to me for help but this…” you trailed off as your finger pointed to the large cut on the side of his face before it faltered down towards his side and leg. “That needs stitches and extensive medical care. I don’t know how to do that. We need to get you to a hospital.”

“Actually, can you take me to the compound? Banner can help me there,” Peter asked when you pulled on your jacket and shoes and looped an arm around his waist to hold him up while he held the towel you got for him to his injured leg.

“Yeah, come on.” So, you got him into your car and began the drive upstate. It wasn’t too long especially since you were going a little over the speed limit—your boyfriend was bleeding so of course most laws were thrown out the window to get him some help—but a hospital would have been much closer. You understood why he wanted to go here: no one questioning how this happened, no coming up with a story to tell, people he was familiar with and comfortable around, so you took him.

“Y/n, calm down. It’ll be fine,” Peter whispered when his suited hand came to rest on your hand that you had been tapping anxiously against the steering wheel. You had not realized you were doing it, but you were scared for Peter. Of course, he was a superhuman with rapid healing abilities and super strength, but he looked awful and your mind began to wander to the worst. What if he did not make it back one night? What if he was kidnapped or tortured? What if he died? What would you do? You wanted to protect him but how could you when you were a measly human, no special abilities, just a big heart.

“I know. I just worry about you is all,” you muttered when you saw the compound come into view, the lush greenery of the tall trees behind it and the starry night sky about it appearing so beautiful.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, sweetheart,” he reminded you before pecking your cheek. “I always come out okay.”

As much as you wanted to protest and explain that he might not always be fine and that his powers didn’t make him completely invincible, you pushed it down and pulled in front of the compound. You turned off the ignition and ran around to his side to help him out and walked him into the building.

“What’d you get into now Peter?” Dr. Bruce Banner inquired when you both walked in, taking in the boy’s limp and bloodied body.

“Some guys with alien tech. It’s different than the Chitauri stuff. It’s much more advanced,” he explained while you two followed Banner to an examination room. You helped him to get up on the bed—though he probably didn’t need your assistance—but it was the thought and the care that you put in that made him feel better.

While they discussed what happened as Bruce stitched him up, you hung back a bit and took in the room. Every room in the compound fascinated you. Each so simple yet so intricate, so sophisticated and sleek. Most of the rooms were white especially the exam rooms of the medical wing. Everything was just so crisp and you loved to look around at it all.

Then your eyes landed on the boy you fell in love with who was smiling up at Bruce Banner who had cracked a joke you did not hear. Peter Parker. Did you know you were signing up to be Spider-Man’s girlfriend when you started dating him? No, but you loved all of him, even the parts that scared you.

It wasn’t that him being Spider-Man scared you. You couldn’t think of anyone better to take this huge responsibility on and take it on as beautifully as he did too. What terrified you were the possibilities that the job could entail. Just tonight he had a run-in with some scumbags with alien technology and this obviously was not the first time this had happened. After what occurred with Liz’s dad, you hoped this would go smoother or maybe he could get more avengers to help him this time. You couldn’t handle another building being dropped on him like it was nothing or even something worse. But now there was more of this unknown tech and it was more advanced? With his stubborn self, he’d go after them as soon as possible and it’d probably end up worse than last time. You just could not handle that. You couldn’t handle losing him.

“So how long has your eye been twitching?” Bruce asked out loud, not directed at anyone in particular but Peter assumed it was for him as did you.

“My eye hasn’t been twitching, sir, unless I can’t feel it,” he told him in a confused tone. Banner chuckled a bit before turning towards you.

“I meant you. You’ve noticed that right?” You did not know whether to nod or shake your head. Had you noticed it? Yes, but were you also too busy to care? Also, yes.

“I mean a little, yeah. I didn’t think it was a big deal though and that it’d go away soon. I’m okay, right?” You asked beginning to get a little frantic, but he was quick to reassure you.

“Yeah, don’t worry too much about it. We don’t need another thing to stress you out,” he commented, and by your tilted head and furrowed brow, he could see you didn’t know what he meant. “Eye twitching commonly correlates to stress and fatigue. Would you say that’s true?”

Peter’s wide and concerned eyes met yours. He didn’t know of anything that would be stressing you and he figured you got enough sleep. You handled everything so well so he had no clue that you could be stressed or tired.

“I mean yeah maybe. I could see it,” you answered the scientist who finished up what he needed to with Peter.

“Okay Parker, you’re all good and as for you,” he stopped and turned to face you, “Just relax and get some rest. Nothing bad will happen but it’s clear you need a break.” You nodded at him when he exited the door and as soon as he left, Peter hopped off the exam bed and walked over to you.

“You never told me anything about being stressed or worn out. Are you okay?” he questioned, his hands cupping your face as his eyes danced between your own.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Now let’s go back before my mom freaks out when she sees I’m gone,” you urged but Peter’s hand gripping your wrist stopped you.

“Text her and tell her you’re staying with me. Let’s go to my room here so you can get as much sleep as you need and then we can spend the whole day here tomorrow just chilling, okay?” he told you while still cradling your face.

“Okay well we need to move my car from out front to the garage,” you reminded him, and he grabbed your keys from your back pocket before you could.

“I’ll do that. You head on up to my room and I’ll meet you there.” So, you did as you were told. You went to Peter’s room, took off your shoes and jacket, and slipped under the blankets, the soft scent of him filling your nose.

Had you really been that stressed and exhausted that your eye was starting to twitch? Yeah, you could not fall asleep until you knew Peter was okay after patrolling, and sometimes you didn’t get that confirmation until midnight or later. Yeah, your mom had to work more so she could provide for you both and she was too tired from working to do anything, so you had to take care of the both of you. Yeah, school was getting a little more intense as the semester progressed and being a sophomore at a school for genius teenagers came with a heftier workload. But you were handling it. You always handled what life had to throw at you and you handled it with ease from the outside looking in.

“Okay, your car has been moved,” he announced when he slipped into his room and placed your keys on the desk that was placed near the door. He pressed the spider emblem in the center of his chest causing the suit to expand and loosen off his body before it fell to the floor. That left him in his boxers which was exactly what he wore to bed, so he slid underneath the covers and opened his arms for you to snuggle next to him. A small smile crept onto your lips as you scooted over and laid your head on his chest before entangling your legs with his own.

“How are you feeling?” you whispered into the space around you, your thumb slowly rubbing over the edge of the bandage that covered his side. You remembered the image of seeing him in your window only a short while ago and your heart dropping at the sight.

“Better now. I’ll be okay,” he stated reassuringly as his hand trailed absentmindedly up and down your back. “We need to talk about you though. What’s got you all stressed? I didn’t even know you were struggling. You’d know I’d help and that you can talk to me, right?”

“Yes, Peter. I know that and even I didn’t know how bad it was until Banner pointed it out,” you muttered, sighing against his skin as you hid your face in the crook of his neck. You didn’t mean for it to get like this. You thought you could handle it. You thought you were handling it fine, but your body was telling you otherwise.

“What is it?” he asked again, his other hand reaching to grab yours. “What’s making you stressed? Talk to me.”

“For starters, school. This sophomore year workload is a lot to handle when I have other things to worry about.”

“Like what?” You had not told him about your mom taking on a second job to make ends meet, about how she worked from eleven at night to seven in the morning at a hotel then slept for a little then worked at the diner she had worked at for years for however long they had scheduled her, about how she barely took care of herself let alone you, how you had to take care of her and yourself. Your mom was your hero. She had taken all of this like a champ, and you felt like shit for letting it all get to you through your damn eye twitches. You didn’t need Peter to worry about you. That would have made things worse, and he has bigger things he needs to worry about anyway. Also, he would have told May and you could not take her big brown empathetic eyes looking at you in pity before she would hug you and you would definitely break down then.

“Y/n? Sweetheart? Are you crying?” Peter whispered as he pulled you from his chest to look at you and indeed, a tear had fallen from your beautiful face onto his shoulder. “Why are you crying, baby? What’s wrong?” He asked when he sat up with you and pulled you back into his arms for him to hold you.

“I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to worry,” you mumbled against his neck where you had hidden your face once again. You hated crying though you were comfortable doing so in front of Peter.

“Darling, you can always tell me anything. I care about you so much and I thought you were okay because that is what you have told me and shown me. It’s okay to break down. God knows how many times I’ve broken down and cried in front of you,” he stated with a laugh which had caused a watery chuckle to escape you. He leaned down to press his lips to your temple. “Talk to me, baby. Tell me what’s on your mind and maybe you’ll feel better.”

So, you did. You explained how your mom had to get another job, told him how you were worried for her because she was not caring for herself and how you were having to act as the mom of the house since she was trying to financially provide for you both. You unloaded everything you had in your head about the situation with your mom and the stress you had been feeling because of it.

He held you through it all. He had shifted you both back to laying positions as he held you against him with one arm and held your hand with his other. Every word he listened to intently and it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. He was the best thing that had ever happened to you and you loved him with every ounce of your being.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner? You know I’d help you anytime,” he reassured you as if you had forgotten that he would help you. You knew he would be there for you in an instant when you would call, but something else had stopped you.

“Because… you’re Spider-Man. Queens needs you and you have bigger things to deal with like guys with technology from outer space. You should put that first, not my problems that I can handle myself.”

“I am Spider-Man, but I am also Peter Parker, and you matter most to me. So, I can leave the alien tech to someone else now that they’ll actually listen to me when I say there’s a bad guy and I can help you,” he reminded you and you nodded.

“Okay,” was you muttered before a beat of silence passed you both and then Peter spoke up again.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah.”

“Do I stress you out?” he questioned and as you were about to decline it, you remembered that he wasn’t just Peter Parker, but also Spider-Man, and that part of him did stress you out a little bit.

“Umm…” you trailed off as you got worked up again, tears swimming in your vision as you let out a shaky breath to calm yourself.

“I do, don’t I?” he inquired once more. The way his voice sounded so defeated made your heart split in two.

“Yes,” you spoke before the tears were flowing again. “But it’s only because I’m worried for your safety. I mean you didn’t see what I saw when you came to my window tonight. Peter, you looked awful, and what if it had been worse? What if you hadn’t been able to get up from the fight and seek help? What if y-you died? I don’t know what I’d do. I stay awake every night waiting for you to either show up at my window or for you to call and tell me you’re safe at home. Peter, I love you, but you being Spider-Man and risking your life constantly, that terrifies me. You handle it well, but I just get worried that one day you won’t come back.”

His eyes softened as you spoke while he was quick to pull you into his embrace and shush you to calm you from your cries. You had to admit that it did feel good letting all this out and telling him the truth finally, but these were the things that were weighing heavy on your heart and to just speak of them to someone helped lift that weight some.

“Baby, you know I will always come back to you. I think you underestimate me,” he chuckled as his hand ran up and down your arm in a soothing manner.

“I know you’re strong, asshole,” you laughed along with him before getting back to your main point, “but I am scared that you think you’re invincible and you’ll run yourself into something you can’t handle, and then what happens? You get seriously hurt or worse, you die and then I’ll be alone. So will May. Ned will not have his best friend. MJ won’t have someone to bug all the time. What are we supposed to do when we don’t have you, Peter? I-I can’t handle that.”

“Y/n, you can’t keep thinking of the worst-case scenario in this situation. There will always be that possibility, but I am sure that won’t ever happen. I can sense when something bad is going to happen before it does so I know when to get out of the way before something could potentially kill me. I will always be okay in the end and so will you so don’t worry too much about it. You’re stressing yourself out more than you need to,” he whispered calmingly as his thumb rubbed soothing circles into your skin. You sighed before cuddling into the boy. He was right. You did tend to let your mind wander to the worst, and you were stressing yourself out more than you needed to. You had other more important things to worry about like your mother and getting schoolwork done.

“I love you, you know that right?” you spoke softly against the flesh of his chest before pressing a light kiss where your words landed.

“Yes, I do. You wouldn’t worry yourself sick if you didn’t love me. I love you so much sweetheart,” he muttered into your hair. “Now tomorrow, we aren’t going to do anything that counts as work. We’ll sleep in, watch some movies, we can bake some cookies or something if you’d like?”

“That sounds nice,” you told him while nodding your head.

“Then that’s what we will do,” he stated into the space above you, into the darkness of his room. “Good night, y/n.”

“Good night, Peter,” you sighed as you melted into his body, his strong arms very present around you and holding you close and safe next to him. You could feel him. He was right there. He always came back so there was no need to worry. Your sweet little Peter Parker was not going anywhere. You had him right there and that was all you needed to feel calm.

--------------------------------------------------

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[adhd-disaster-willie]

you're the one that brings the sun; chapter 1/6

Summary: Alex is prepared for every single variable except, apparently, the one in which his roommate is drop dead gorgeous and Alex is an absolute clusterfuck of a human being who falls for the first pretty boy on he sees on campus.

Willex roommate au! 

Warnings: Swearing

Notes: The title is from the song “I Dare You” by the Regrettes. I’ve actually planned this fic out so here’s to hoping I don’t get burned out halfway through. It might end up having 6 or 7 chapters, 5 is kind of just an estimate.

---

When Alex was 11, his mother proudly plastered his report card to the fridge and exclaimed that one day, her little boy would go to Harvard. His father gripped his shoulder with pride and Alex beamed up at his parents like they’d just told him he had superpowers. 3 years later, he was 14 and teetering on the edge of failure in the majority of his classes. He wasn’t stupid by any means, just preoccupied. He’d started a band with his best friends and that felt like the most important thing in the whole world, and high school was new and scary, so it was easier to not pour all his focus into school. His parents’ smiles faltered but they kept up hope, Alex could tell. 2 years later, he stood shaking and crying outside of the Molina’s garage and suddenly, the concept of going to college begun to feel distant and fake. But he’s 18 now, and somehow, miraculously, gazing at the piles of boxes in the back of Ray’s car and swallowing down a lump in his throat.

It sure isn’t Harvard, but a part of Alex feels giddy at the fact that he’s attending a public college that was relatively easy to get into; oh his parents would be rolling in their proverbial graves. What didn’t make him quite so happy though, was the looming fact that he’d be living with some random person, because for some godforsaken reason, the college wouldn’t allow freshmen to choose their roomates. Some bullshit about meeting new people and socializing.

“Hey, ‘Lex. Dude, you’ll be fine.” Luke shakes his shoulders, before swinging one arm around him and the other around Reggie.

“Says the one who isn’t even going to college,” Alex grumbles, slipping from Luke’s grip and into the front seat of the car.

“Yea cause I don’t need it. Not my fault you’re both nerds,” Luke retorts.

“I’m not a nerd, I just like to have insurance-”

“Yea, back-up plan, safety net, heard it a million times. Reggie’s a nerd though.”

“Old news, dude,” Alex says.

“I am not a nerd!” Reggie protests indignantly.

“Tell that to your 2 years of college credit in math.”

Luke nods in agreement. “Nerd.”

“Math is fun!”

“You’re horrible.” Alex makes a mock gagging noise.

Julie comes bounding out of the house, her arms decked with various baked goods. She tosses herself in the backseat beside Reggie and Luke, looking quite pleased with herself at being able to force Luke to sit in the middle. “Tía was apparently up all night baking,” she explains, passing the sweets up to Alex. “Don’t be surprised if she shows up at your dorm with food every day.”

Alex snorts. “I would not object to that.”

Julie sighs, leaning back in her seat. “You guys are so lucky, I’m tired of high school. Damn September birthday,” Julie grumbles. Her birthday is just after the cut off date, so she would be 18 for the majority of senior year, but is just barely too young to be in the same grade as the boys.

Reggie leans over and pats her arm sympathetically, earning an offended squeak from Luke, who’s only pushed further into the back of the seat.

“Don’t worry!” Alex chirps sarcastically. “You get to spend more time with Luke, since he’ll be squatting in your garage!”

“Oh, joy,” Julie deadpans.

“I am not a squatter!” Luke protests, kicking the back of Alex’s seat.

“No kicking! I’m holding food!”

“Y’know Alex, you’ve been staying in the studio for 2 years, you’re not one to talk!” Luke argues.

“I have a job.”

“A stupid job.”

“A stupid job that gets you free coffee.”

Reggie nodds to that, chewing on a cookie. “Can’t risk losing your coffee privileges.”

Julie groans loudly and stuck her head out the window. “DAAAAD! Let’s goooo!” She cries.

“Wow, I didn’t know you wanted to get rid of me so badly,” Alex says, clutching his chest dramatically.

“Oh shut up Lexi, I just wanna meet your’s and Reggie’s new best friends!” Julie says, laughing.

“I’m not gonna be best friends with my roommate.”

“Yea, Alex forgot how to do that!”

“Luke I will smother you in your sleep!”

At this, Ray approaches the car with a raised eyebrow. “No one’s planning a murder, I hope?” He asks, chuckling as he slides into the drivers seat.

“No sir!” Reggie replies, grinning.

“Not yet,” Alex mumbles under his breath.

“Alright boys, who’s ready for college!” Ray says, starting the car.

“I’m gonna be sick.”

---

“And that’s the last of it!” Ray claps a hand over Alex’s shoulder and smiles encouragingly.

Alex nods tensely, gripping the strap of his fannypack tighter.

The dorm’s probably as good as he’s gonna get. One reasonably sized bedroom complete with two horribly uncomfortable beds, a kitchen with a fridge that was in no way large enough to fit even a weeks worth of meals, a tiny living room that would probably fit a couch and a TV at the most, and a bathroom that smelled suspiciously of mustard. Really it isn’t terrible, but Alex has a habit of noticing every little detail, especially the ones that could be a problem at some point. His roommate hasn’t arrived yet, so he’s standing amongst his various boxes, anxiety pulsing in his chest.

Julie grips his hand tightly and smiles, tears pricking the edges of her eyes. “Hey, Alex, you’re gonna be okay.” She squeezes his hand briefly.

Alex nods, exhaling shakily. “Yea, yea I know. It’s just…”

“A change, I know. But this is a good change. And-” she hauls Reggie and Luke over to them. “-we’re all here if you need to call someone and talk. And dad, and Tía, and I bet your roommate will be super cool.”

“Or a serial killer.”

“Just pray he’s not a football player,” Reggie stage-whispers, shuddering.

“God, don’t even suggest that!” Alex whines.

Encouragements and teary hugs are passed along, as well as a promise to meet at the Olive Garden nearby for dinner in a few hours, and then Alex’s posse is off to get Reggie settled, and Alex is left alone in the dorm. Alright.

Alex takes a deep breath, steeling himself, before beginning to wander the dorm. He’s anxious to start unpacking without his roommate and risk doing something that they wouldn’t like. Even choosing a bed feels wrong, he really doesn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with this person. But leaving the dorm meant people everywhere so that was a definite no. He sighs, lowering himself to the wooden floor and pulling out his phone.

“Yea… uh huh. Yes Caleb, I got here fine. No the Uber driver did not try and kidnap me. The boxes- the boxes are not too heavy. Okay. Okay. Yea, bye. Mhm.”

Alex looks up hesitantly upon hearing the voice nearing his dorm. The person standing in the doorway is well… less of a person and more of a large stack of boxes threatening to fall over any second. “Hello?” Alex stands up and makes his way to the boy stood in the entrance.

Said boy pokes his head out from behind his boxes and grins crookedly. “Hi, uh, I’m Willie!” And well, Alex is a goner. He swallows thickly, breath catching in the back of his throat. Willie attempts to adjust the boxes but ultimately fails, sending them tumbling to the ground amongst several muttered curses. “Well… nothing fragile in there,” he falters slightly. “I think.”

“Um…”

“Right! Sorry, uh.” Willie holds his hand out and Alex shakes it tentatively.

“Alex.”

“Alex, cool.” Willie smiles again, his dark eyes twinkling as he does so, smile lines popping out. He brushes his hair -which looks so soft and pretty- behind his ear to reveal a small golden hoop on his right lobe. Alex is dead, actually 100% dead. Because he’d been prepared for every single variable except, apparently, the one in which his roommate is drop dead gorgeous and Alex is an absolute clusterfuck of a human being who falls for the first pretty boy on he sees on campus.

Alex forces out a smile, all too aware that he’s still standing stiff and awkward in front of Willie, his grip on his fannypack tight enough to make his knuckles glow white. Then Willie coughs as some sort of attempt to fill the silence. “Sorry!” Alex squeaks. “Do you need help with the… the uh, boxes?”

“Oh yea, that’d be great!” Willie replies, beaming. “I don’t think there’s anything fragile in there, but y’know, my memory is absolute shit so if I broke some fancy china dishes I didn’t even know I owned, don’t be too shocked.”

Alex laughs anxiously. “Yea uh… I didn’t start unpacking cause I um… I didn’t want to claim a bed and stuff with-without your input?” His voice cracks at the end and he winces because Jesus fucking christ Alex.

Willie chuckles and Alex notes that he has the kind of laugh that echoes through your whole body and settles right in your heart. “ ‘S cool, man, I don’t mind.”

“Right, cool. Do you uh… are you okay if I take the bed farthest from the window? I’m not- not much of a morning person, and the window is… it’s east facing” Alex mutters, his gaze focused on his feet which are rocking back and forth at a rapid pace.

“Yea, of course,” Willie replies. “I don’t think I’ve woken up later than 8 in 5 years.”

“That’s horrific!” Alex cries, momentarily forgetting his anxiety. He steps back and blushes an even deeper red upon realizing how stupid he’s being. “I mean- I just… sorry, I just meant that-”

“You’re good, dude. I don’t bite.”

Alex cracks a tentative smile. “So uh… I’ll just start unpacking then.”

Willie shoots him a thumbs up and smiles once again, which is a thing he apparently does a lot.

An hour later, Alex’s belongings are unpacked and organized and the room feels a bit more his. He feels slightly lighter, exhaling and closing his eyes briefly. This isn’t so bad. Fiddling with the hem of his hoodie, he shuffles out into the living room where Willie is presumably unpacking. Except that he’s not.

Willie is laying upside down on a couch that somehow appeared while Alex was gone and he’s flipping through a tattered magazine while his belongings remain mostly unpacked.

“This quiz says that I should try roller skating,” Willie sniffs. “Some personality test this is- oh hey Alex!” He scrambles up so that he can look Alex in the eyes properly, and points to the magazine in his hand. “Found this in a box, not sure how it got there since I’ve never even subscribed to one of these, but there’s a chocolate chip cookie recipe in here.” He stops for a moment, pondering. “Personally I prefer peanut butter cookies, ooh especially fresh out of the oven. There’s this bakery near my house that-”

“Did you get… any unpacking done?” Alex asks, raising an eyebrow.

Willie looks around at his boxes and laughs sheepishly. “Well I unpacked one and opened 3 so… some, yes.”

“Where’d the couch come from?” Alex pokes the cushion warily, as if afraid that it’s full of bugs.

“Room across the hall,” Willie says, pointing. “They both brought couches and didn’t have room for two we got the one with more stains.”

“Right.” Alex’s reply is forced and tense, and he winces upon realizing. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected his roommate to become so comfortable so fast and he felt like he was several steps behind. Damn extroverts. Drumming his hands against his thighs, Alex slowly sits down on the other side of the couch, pointedly looking ahead instead of at Willie.

“So.” Willie scoots closer, sitting cross legged with his elbows on his thighs and chin resting in his palms. “What’s your major?”

Small talk, god Alex hates small talk. “Um, music,” he answers.

“Ah, that’s cool dude.” Willie nods.

“Uh, what about you?” Alex asks.

“Art,” Willie replies, grinning. “Be prepared for paint stains, like, everywhere.” He chuckles and nudges Alex’s shoulder playfully. Alex is going to implode, he’s sure of it.

Alex laughs awkwardly. “So uh… what’s wrong with rollerskating?”

Willie shoves his shoulder again. “Everything, dude! Well-” he cuts himself off, thinking. “-I just kinda suck at it, definitely better at my skateboard.” He jerks his head in the direction of a skateboard leaned against the wall and Alex wonders how he didn’t notice that.

“Oh, that’s- that’s cool. I rollerblade but I uh, I can’t skateboard to save my life.”

Somehow, they slip into a comfortable rhythm, and Alex notes that his anxiety no longer has him in a chokehold. Willie seems to have that affect; he’s just so… open. Alex doesn’t realize it yet, but he’s subconsciously created a folder in the back of his mind labelled “Willie,” and he doesn’t think he’s capable of forgetting anything Willie will ever say to him.

“- that’s why airplane food is just, horrible. Cause you basically lose like 30% of your tastebuds because of the elevation.” Willie smiles at Alex, gaging his response.

Alex would rather die than admit that he’s still trying to figure out how the topic of airplane food came up, so he just nods enthusiastically, actively stopping his eyes from dancing across Willie’s face, which is practically glowing in the evening sun. Evening. Shit. Alex pulls out his phone frantically. “Shit.” He says it out loud this time.

Willie’s brow furrows in confusion. “You good, dude?”

“Uh yea I’m just, I’m supposed to be meeting my fam- uh my friends for dinner and I have to be there in like 5 minutes.” He ignores the way Willie’s expression falls, convinced he’s just seeing things.

“Yea um, of course. I won’t keep you.” Willie stands up, his posture the stiffest that Alex has seen it in the whole 3 hours they’ve been acquainted for. “I’ll just… order a pizza.”

Alex hesitates in the doorway, weighing his options, which has never been his strong suit. “Do you want to join me?” He blurts impulsively. Willie looks at him in surprise. “I mean only- only if you want of course, we’ve only really uh, known each other for a few hours and you- you probably don’t want to, it was stupid. I’ll just- I’ll just go-”

“No! I’d… I’d like to, eating pizza alone in the dark sounds a little pathetic,” Willie responds.

Alex smiles genuinely. “Ok, ok that’s uh. Cool. That’s cool.”

---

Alex is already regretting this. The restaurant isn’t too crowded, he notices with a relieved breath. But it’s loud. It’s loud and yet only one group of people is talking. Alex doesn’t even need to guess who.

“Ok but- no- no- the whole song would be better!”

“Say banjo one more time, I dare you!”

“Banjo.”

“Julie, what the hell?! This is betrayal!”

“You stole my breadstick, it’s only fair.”

Alex coughs, quieting the table to a dull roar.

“Alex!” Julie pulls him down to sit next to her. “Oh? Who’s this?” Reggie is grinning wickedly and Luke waggles his eyebrows in a way that makes Alex want to shave them off.

“This is uh, my roommate Willie,” Alex responds, his voice raising an octave. “He didn’t have plans so I uh… I invited him, I hope that’s ok.”

“Of course it’s ok!” Julie pats the space on the other side of Alex and Willie sits down, appearing… oddly nervous.

“Congrats! Your Alex’s first new friend since,” Luke taps his chin, pretending to think. “7th grade.”

Alex’s face promptly falls into his hands. He’s seriously considering the whole, shaving Luke’s eyebrows in his sleep thing.

Reggie leans forward conspiratorially. “What’s your opinion on banjos?” He asks, making a point to ignore Luke’s dramatic complaining.

Willie raises his eyebrows, clearly confused. “Um. No comment?”

“I’m… sorry about them,” Alex says apolegetically. “Uh, this is Luke, Reggie, and Julie-” he gestures to each of them; Reggie waves, beaming happily. “-and Julie’s dad should be…” He trails off, looking around.

“He had to take a phone call, something about Carlos refusing to eat dinner until he proves the house is haunted,” Julie explains, clearly biting back a laugh.

“I… okay.” Alex shakes his head. “Are we waiting for more food or did Reggie eat it all?”

“Ha ha,” Reggie punctuates his statement by sticking out his tongue. “We’re waiting for the actual meals-”

“Yea Luke already ate the entire bread basket.” Julie shoots a glare in Luke’s direction.

“Well… you suggested we get hotdogs,” Luke grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. “Payback.”

“Okay,” Julie laughs.

Willie leans over to whisper loudly to Alex, “What’s the story with the hotdogs?”

“Don’t tell him!” Luke cries, leaning across the table and slamming his palms down.

“We don’t talk of the hot-dogs,” Reggie mutters miserably.

“Food poisoning.” Alex shudders slightly. “Very bad food poisoning.”

“We almost died,” Reggie says, eyes widening. “Like, for real death. I’m pretty sure I was a ghost for a few seconds.”

“Reg, you were not a ghost,” Alex says, speaking like Reggie’s a 10 year old talking about monsters under his bed.

“I was!”

“You were not!”

“So,” Luke smiles mischievously, taking Reggie and Alex’s bickering as an opportunity to apparently torture the latter. Despite Alex’s warning glares, he turns to Willie with an innocent expression. “What kind of music do you like?”

“Luke,” Alex hisses, all too familiar with Luke’s antics.

“Hmmm.” Willie is painfully oblivious to Alex’s panicked expression as he mulls over his answer. “A lot of stuff really.” He shrugs. “Rock, pop, I like those lo-fi playlists when I’m trying to study.”

Luke nods, clearly pleased with the answer, but he isn’t done and Alex wants to hide under the table. He knows what’s coming next. “Thoughts on… drummers?”

“Luke.” Alex is seconds from lunging across the table.

“Drummers?” Willie asks, tilting his head confusedly.

“Yup,” Luke says, popping the p and still smiling like he’s some sort of innocent puppy-dog and not an absolute bastard.

“Hot,” Willie jokes. Alex can’t even hide the way he manages to choke on his own spit, and Luke and Reggie have never been great at subtlety, turning to Alex with matching shit-eating grins. Willie either doesn’t notice or is kind enough not to comment on it. “Yea, pretty sure young Roger Taylor was my gay awakening.”

Reggie is full on giggling now, and Alex’s entire face is gleaming a bright red. Willie glances around the table, puzzled.

“Mhm.” Luke nods before swiftly turning to Alex. “Hey Alex, by the way, you left your drumsticks in the car, do you need them back?” His voice is sickeningly sweet, coated in some sort of poisoned honey. It’s Willie’s turn to choke on nothing, failing to disguise it as a spontaneous coughing fit.

“Fine,” Alex squeaks as he sinks further down in his seat. If he pulls out his phone and messages Luke a flurry of threats, that’s no one’s business. He dares a glance at Willie, who has become quite fascinated with his hands, which are tapping out a mindless rhythm on the table, his cheeks and the tips of his ears dusted red.

Needless to say, Alex makes sure Luke doesn’t even get to look at the next bread basket.

---

I hope you liked it! Tell me if you want to be added to the taglist :)

I’m hoping to update at least once a week, but who knows. Ok thats all.

chapter 2

Chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

#willex #jatp #willex fic #jatp fic #julie and the phantoms #alex mercer #willie jatp #willie nolastname #julie molina #luke patterson #reggie peters #ray molina #willow writes #ytotbts #you’re the one that brings the sun

[your-wings-of-freedom]

Nightmares (Levi x Reader)

Authors Note: Here we go sweetness. I’m awfully sorry it took so long! I had actually planned to do a Levi x Nightmare fic so when it became my first request, you bet I fangirled harder than ever before! I hope you don’t mind that I added my small original idea to yours. If you don’t like, I can always write up a slightly different scenario ^^”  First Levi x Reader fic. Yikes.

Word Count: 5,542 (Sorry!)

Summary: You scream out into the middle of the night from a nightmare, nearly waking the whole squad. As your captain and being someone he cares about, he does his best to calm you down.

You watched as Levi swung gracefully through the air despite being covered in titan blood, only for the wires of his ODM gear to be yanked by greedy hands, rendering helpless. You were too far to reach him. Your ziplined through the trees, screaming for his name. No matter how fast you flew, you weren’t fast enough. Multiple sets of hands fought over Levi, tear him limb from limb. His cries were mixed with yours as you screamed for him. Having reached him just as his eyes made contact with yours before the rest of his body became titan food. “NOOO! LEVI!” Your blood curdling scream echoed throughout the forest, and the chill of the room where your nightmare took place. Everyone, particularly in the Survey Corps have seen horrors to the extreme, and because of that, each cadet suffers with nightmares where it has them screaming out into the night. There’s no judgement or annoyance from those who share a room. It’s probably best that they did since it allows them to have someone there to comfort them. Despite taking up quarters in a building that had more than enough rooms to spare, some cadets still preferred to bunk with each other. You preferred to have a room to yourself if it was available. A lot of it had to do with the fact that you and Levi had grown closer and late-night visits became a thing. Particularly after a brutal mission that, not only left you a complete mess, but would have some sort of impact on Levi where his usual coping method of secluding himself to his room didn’t work.

Your room was never too far from where his office is. The man barely slept and would often spend the majority of his night catching up on paperwork, or making himself a cup of tea. Any small amount of sleep he did get, it was mostly just him nodding off in his chair, having not realized that sleep had overcome him.

Despite how late it was, it was still early in the night for Levi. His night went as per normal. Always staying up until the last member of his squad retired for the night. He may look like a ruthless asshole to nearly everybody else, but he’s not so bad once you get to know him. He’s strict, and firm, with certain things. But he’ll always join his comrades for meals, he’ll always sit and have a cup of tea with them, talk to them. He’s really not that bad.

He made another cup of tea and took it up to his office where a small pile of paperwork was waiting for him. Tch. He wasn’t a huge fan of paperwork. Particularly the reports that had to be completed from unsuccessful commissions; the field report that required details of what happened, what went wrong. There was the death reports of all the soldiers that had died and Levi had to sign off on it before sending letters to the families. He’d much prefer Erwin do this part of the job since he’s the Commander, but Levi doesn’t quite trust the man to do it with the weight of the burden he ought to rightfully carry. For Levi, he felt it’s the least he could do for those who gave their lives to save humanity.

Luckily tonight wasn’t one of those nights where it was a haunting and grim reminder of what would have occurred only hours before. Rather, the paperwork was dull and boring. Of course, he’d much rather that than the alternative. 

Cup and saucer gently placed on his desk, he sat down and glared at the pile of paperwork before deciding to procrastinate just a little bit more by taking his first sip of his tea, choosing to relish in the liquid for just another moment longer. An hour or so went by and he had finally signed off on the last piece of paper. How the hell he got through reading Hanji’s report without the need to stab himself in the eyes with his pen is beyond him. Slamming the piece of paper down on the top of the small pile of papers, he stood up from his chair and pulled the pile to him, tapping them into a neat pile before placing them in a manila file, ready to be sent back to Erwin in the morning.

It’s probably past midnight by now… the moon shone brightly, helping to illuminate the dimly lit room further. The night sky littered with stars … and not a cloud in sight, Levi’s come to notice as his footsteps took him to stand by the window and gaze out. It was a summer’s evening but there seemed to be a slight breeze in the air as the silhouette of the tree leaves could be seen swaying slightly.

 This small moment of peace was interrupted by the sound of his name being screamed in a terrifying manner not far from his office. His head sharply whipped around, bangs to sway harshly with his sudden movement.

Quick strides had him yanking his door open to already seeing a few members of his squad wearily stepping out of their rooms and into the hall as they made their way in the same direction that Levi was heading. He heard his name being called in half greeting, half question but he didn’t have time to tell them that he’s got in under control, not when you’re still screaming at the top of your lungs for him.

As soon as he opened the door, he saw your body writhing beneath the blankets and he didn’t waste a second by stepping into your room and immediately sitting on the edge of the bed. He didn’t miss your features being contorted into a face full of pure terror and pain. He didn’t want to know what the hell was playing out in your head, whatever it was, it must be worse than their own reality. Because even amongst the horrors and deaths they’ve faced, he’s never seen you look so scared before. 

It reminds him of the moment he lost Isabel and Furlan… but this seems far worse. Hands were placed on your shoulders and his voice sharp with authority tried to be heard over your screams, “Y/N! Wake up! Y/N! C’mon, I need you to wake up…” You weren’t known to be a heavy sleeper. At least, not this heavy. It took a while for Levi to wake you up, even him raising his voice to be heard over your relentless screams. Not that it was a competition, but you definitely won ‘Nightmare of the Year’, even Levi hasn’t seen a reaction this intense, not from him, and as far as he knows, not from the rest of the members of his squad either. You heard Levi call out to you, which was impossible because you just saw the last of him disappear into the titan’s mouth. Your traumatized mind must be playing such cruel tricks on your mind. All you could do was watch the titan finish devouring the man you’ve come to care about, the man you’ve come to…well… love. You can hear his voice calling your name again, as the titan’s bloodstained grin stared at you, taunting you in a way. You felt your face contort into something terrifying as you screamed with the heartache of losing the one you loved. That scream carried over when you woke up, not realizing it was you who was screaming into the dark room. It only turned into a scream of panic as you felt a pair of hands gripping your shoulders, and that’s when you fought against the constriction of the sheets that held your body day, panicking like a tortured animal. Your mind hadn’t quite caught up to reality just yet. The scream died from your lips and panicked, frightened whimpers filled the room instead. To be honest, Levi hadn’t expected such a violent reaction upon waking you up. His hands were knocked from your shoulders in your sudden state of panic as you desperately tried to crawl away from him but the writhing in your sleep had caused you to become too tangled up in your sheets. “Hey. Hey! Take it easy. Just a nightmare.” His voice deep and firm, hoping to ground you back to reality at least. His hand hovered in midair as though he was trying to calm down a frightened animal. Finally you were brought back down to reality and you stopped moving, frightened gaze settled on the face you just saw being eaten. You tried to swallow down the whimper that was caught in your throat but failed to do so and you could only close your eyes momentarily in embarrassment. Though you immediately regret doing so, because the moment you did, you were flooded with the same scenes again and your eyes flung open as another state of panic gripped you. “N-No. No. No. I can’t… I can’t get out… I can’t…” your breathing coming out in shaky breaths, the panic had risen to borderlining a panic attack as your chest tightened in fear and your lungs refusing to work properly. Your hands clawed at the sheets, trying to get yourself free from the grips that reminded you too much of seeing Levi gripped in a Titan’s hold. Levi sprung into action as he moved off the bed, gripping the sheets and tugged them back and forth to loosen their bind on you. Once there was an opportunity, you immediately sprung free and made a beeline for the other side of your room. You could finally breathe.

You inhaled deeply but another whimper-like gasp (something that sounds like a ‘nngh’ from the back of your throat) sounded as you took a deep breath. Your hands rested on your thighs as you hunched over, catching your breath.

Levi watched you spring out of bed and try to compose yourself. He understood how nightmares worked. On the odd occasion that he had them, some had left him springing up from his chair. So he understood this moment was pivotal in the need to have some space. He watched as you crouched down with a long, but still shaky, exhale, muttering a ‘shit’ as you braced yourself with your elbows on your thighs, fingers clasping together, thumbs crisscrossing too, and forehead pressing against the base of your thumb where it curves into the palm. It took everything in him not to walk over to you and physically help you through it. He couldn’t even place a hand on your shoulder. Not with everyone ogling at the door. It was probably already suspicious enough that he was the one in this room with you – but, he’s your Captain and the way you had screamed out into the night was not something that he could ignore. It’s no different to when he and Eren stole a couple of moments of privacy to talk one-on-one, right? Grey eyes snapped back to the few members of his squad that had gathered at the door in concern for their terror-stricken comrade. “Alright, show’s over. Back to bed.” The order was given before grey eyes snapped to Eren and bore into his green eyes that widened as soon as Levi barked his name, “Eren go downstairs and make some tea. Don’t fuck it up.” “Sir!”

He waited for everyone to disperse before he took a few steps over to where you were. “Must’ve been a fucked-up nightmare.” You heard his footsteps stop a little bit before you, but you didn’t lift your head. Not just yet. You needed to calm your nerves down, because right now, it felt like it was more than just your heart beating wildly. It felt like every part of your body was throbbing. Including your eardrum, which you’re surprised you could even Levi’s voice over the sound of whatever the pressuring sound in your ears was. “Yeah.” “Want to talk about it?” “No.”

Levi hummed lowly as he closed the rest of the gap between you both, you still didn’t lift your head. He could hear you taking long, careful, steady breaths, immediately recognizing it as a grounding technique. He remained quiet, not wanting to interrupt whatever progress you made with yourself, so he opted to quietly place a hand on your back in a form of some physical reassurance. That’s when he noticed how damp your pyjama’s were. Tch. Eyes snapped over to the mess of your bed in the dim light of the room and he knew immediately what he had to do; change the sheets. It might seem trivial, but even if he didn’t realise it himself, it was far more beneficial to do so in a situation like this. Imagine waking from a nightmare, and then reentering the same messy, sweat-soaked bed again? It’s practically an invitation for another nightmare. While Levi’s reasons lied with the fact it was disgusting to be sleeping on sweat-soaked sheets, the other benefits was a fresh set of sheets, freshly made bed, which should help equal a fresh reset of the mind for the remainder of the night.

“I’ll be back.” Levi murmured as he stood up and fingers trailed off your back. You immediately missed the warmth of his reassuring touch; you missed the calm demeanor he held despite not being the type of guy to mollycoddle you in moments of likes these. You almost whined when he left… no, not whined, begged. You almost begged him to not leave you alone. Luckily that pathetic noise caught in your throat before it could make itself known. You already looked pathetic enough, you didn’t need to sound pathetic on top of it. It’s just adding salt to the wounds. You heard Levi enter back in your room just as quickly as he left it. You heard him place something down; it sounded soft but firm, but you couldn’t make out what it could be. And then you heard the distinct sound of sheets being yanked off the bed. What on earth…?

When you felt like you could lift your head from the heaviness of the fog that shrouded your mind, your eyes opened to Levi changing the sheets on your bed. “Uh, Levi? Y-you don’t have to…” He didn’t even turn around, not even when you stammered slightly. “Tch. Just change into some new nightwear.” You bit your lip, contemplating whether or not there’s any actual need for you to change your nightwear. They’ll dry. It’s not like your drenched in sweat. Suppose to Levi’s cleaning standards, you probably already are. Hearing no movement from you behind him, he added “I won’t look, brat. Just get changed into something clean.” and there was the confirmation that this came down to Levi’s strict hygiene. It could have been worse. He could have ordered you to take a shower or bath as well. You stood up, shakily so to the point where you stumbled a little on your footing before you began to walk over to your drawers and retrieved a new set of nightwear out. You entire being trembled. You weren’t physically shaking on the outside, but you were definitely shaking on the inside. If that made sense? Your hands were the only thing that physically trembled as you changed as quick as you could while Levi had his backed turned. You didn’t even think about your bedroom door being left open and other members (or eren with the tea) could easily have walked in! Though at this point you were too mentally exhausted to deal with the embarrassment of all that. “Uhm..” You awkwardly stood there, completely changed into new attire (it felt much more comfortable, admittedly, now that your damp clothes weren’t sticking to your back), holding your damp clothes in a semi-neat bundle in your hands. Levi stood from straightening the blanket out, pulling back the blankets neatly in the corner, leaving it there as an invitation for you to get back in bed with crisp, dry sheets. He cautiously glanced over his shoulder before he turned to face you, making sure you were decent. He bundled the sheets in his hands and grabbed your nightwear from you as well. His fingers brushing against yours, causing you to meet his steely gaze. You were surprised to see a firmness to them, as though he were silently relaying something to you. You didn’t know what, but it made you feel like you should take a deep breath and trust in him. It was one of those knowing looks.

And with that, Levi left the room with your damp clothes and sheets. Suddenly your room felt colder, you felt colder. Your hands came up and hugged your arms as you glanced around the empty room before your orbs landed on the window. You couldn’t see much outside. Just the stars and the silhouette of the trees. In the daylight, it was an open field of just greenery. Grass for miles, trees, blue sky, flowers blooming. Things that one could take pleasure in but also have that trampled and slipped through your fingers in seconds, just like Levi did with those titans that plagued your dreams. In that moment, you were thrusted back into that vision; the darkness that had you screaming out for Levi. The colours of your world tainted in blood and flesh. His own screams matching yours. You hadn’t realized how rapidly the panic arose within you until you were struggling to breathe and you felt a pair of hands clasp over your wrists, which were resting on your forehead, your fingers curled in the air slightly. At some point you had pressed yourself back against the wall and slid down back into a crouching position again. Slender finger curled around your wrists and tugged them down, “Y/N!” Levi wasn’t even gone a full two minutes as he walked from one end of the building to the other, to dispose of your damp sheets and nightwear. He didn’t think you could get any worse than when you were slightly unresponsive from earlier, so he didn’t think it would be a problem to leave you on your own for a moment or so. It was when he walked down the hallway, back to your room, that he heard those struggling whimpers. The type of sound where you struggle to breathe in between trying to force down the uprising hysteria. (In your case, panic). “Hey.” His low, firm voice called out, losing the iciness that was usually toned in his speech. He got no response from you except to watch you bump yourself against the wall and slide down on legs that couldn’t seem to support your weight. “Y/N.” Footsteps brought Levi over to you but you still didn’t seem to acknowledge him. It wasn’t until he crouched down in front of you and pulled your wrists away from your face, that you finally acknowledged him. Your E/C orbs glanced at his stormy grey ones, his head ducked to be in your line of view, nothing but concern showing through those orbs of his despite the stoic expression he wore. You were on the verge of tears for various reasons. Mostly because you felt so helpless with your feelings, thoughts and emotions. It was overwhelming. You’ve never had a nightmare that affected you so. Levi said nothing. He continued to hold your wrists firmly, gaze locked on yours. What could he say to make it better for you? Nothing, really, except to validate your feelings and even then, it feels useless to do so. Instead, he just quietly held your gaze, quietly grounding you again. You held his gaze back, latching on to it as though it were a lifeline to you. Perhaps he could see that, hence why he hadn’t let go of your wrists nor moved away from you. He intended to stay until he knew for certain that you were going to be alright. The lack of verbal reassurance didn’t bother you overly. You knew he was a man of action rather than words – as the saying goes ‘actions speak louder than words’ and how fitting that seemed to describe him. He didn’t even pull away when Eren came by with the tea. “Uh Captain Levi, sir? I got the teas you wanted.” Levi gave you a slight nod, hopefully successfully relaying that he’s going to break eye contact but he’s still here. His grey eyes left yours to look over his shoulder at Eren who carried a small tray with two teas. “Put it on the table.” Levi gave the simple order. Eren nodded in response and carefully walked the tray over, placing it down on the bedside table. “Anything else, sir?” “That’s all. Go back to bed. You lot have an early start tomorrow.” Another nod from Eren, “Goodnight sir. Goodnight Y/N.” his green eyes cast over your slightly distraught form, breathing back under control again. “Goodnight. Sorry I woke you.” You murmured barely above a whisper. But you heard Eren hum in response, had you looked up you would have seen your friend’s face full of concern, but you kept your eyes downcast.

 Eren seemed hesitant to leave you but you were in the hands of Levi, and even though he might not be the most emotionally supportive person, or appear to be, he’s still the safest person to leave you with. Footsteps quietly retreated as Eren headed back to bed. He might still be naïve in his young age, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew there was something there between you and Levi. While you both weren’t publicly lovey-dovey, nor were you behind close doors, there still seemed to be the silent connection between the two of you. Kind of like how Petra, Oluo and the rest of the ‘Levi Squad’ had the silent understanding of they worked together.

Levi watched Eren leave the room before he turned his attention to you, expecting to meet your gaze but your head was ducked out of his view. His fingers uncurled their grip from your wrist but didn’t let go entirely. They trailed over your skin until he gripped your hands in his, fingers curling over your palm instead. Your own fingers curled lightly against his. At least it was some sort of acknowledgement, he was content to settle with that. Bare minimums, it was better than nothing. “Your tea’s going cold and that shit’s expensive. Come on.” He gave a small tug to your hands, hinting for you to stand up and move to the bed. He didn’t mind you were in a sulky mood, but he’d rather you sulk in bed rather than on the dirty floor. Standing up, he felt you move slightly, and with his help, you were standing upright. You could still feel your body trembling violently internally. If given any food, you likely would have thrown it up. You stumbled in your footing and Levi’s quick reflexes had his hands reaching out to balance you. “Easy.” He murmured in a gentle warning, this time he kept his grip on you as he guided you to bed. Grey eyes bore into your frame, taking in your features, your current state. He wondered if something else was going on with you other than the nightmare. Feeling ill, perhaps? You looked far more paler than when he left you to change your sheets. He pushed the blankets back just a little further so you could climb in bed without needing to squish yourself up in order to get beneath the blankets. You certainly hadn’t expected Levi to ‘tuck’ you in either. Though, his version of ‘tucking you in’ was to flick the blankets back up and leave it at that. Still. The small gesture touched your heart and you felt a little of the whatever-it-is-your-feeling ebb away. You leant back against the frame of the bed, hands resting your lap until a cup of tea was brought into view, and your hands welcomed the warmth of the cup. The bed dipped slightly as Levi sat on the edge, facing you, taking in your pale, exhausted features. You suddenly looked so small to Levi. Sitting in bed, slightly curled in on yourself despite your current position. You still looked bothered. Upset. He didn’t know what, but it unsettled him. You had a haunted look in your eyes; it was something Levi couldn’t just up and leave you be. Not that he was planning to just yet. But afterwards… he had a feeling that, even then, he didn’t want to leave you. He’d probably be content to pull up a chair and just watch over you for the rest of the night. But you still looked shaken up.

“What the hell happened in your nightmare?” he finally broke the silence since you were avoiding eye contact as you slowly sipped away at the tea. “Nothing… just the usual.” You quietly respond, though you were annoyed at yourself the way your voice wavered to a quiet tone afterwards. “You’re a shitty liar.” Typical Levi, calling bullshit the minute he sees it. “It’s clearly more than the titans to have you like this.” There was a long stretch of silence on your end and Levi waited patiently for you to answer. He could see you trying to collect your thoughts as your E/C orbs danced back and forth, and your brow gently furrowing. The last part Levi would have found cute had it been under a less distraught situation. Eventually you found your voice, even though it was a lot quieter than you thought you were being, “No, it was that. But…It’s just… you were there. And then you weren’t. They had you. They had you and I couldn’t get to you in time. And it was my fault. It was my fault. I tried, Levi, I tried so hard. I ran as fast I could.” The more you spoke, talked about what relayed in your head, the more the hysteria was building up in your voice until it caught in your throat on a threatened sob, which Levi immediately picked up on. He was quick to remove your half-drunk cup of tea from your hands and place it on the tray by the bed.

Finally the sob tore through, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

It was clear that you had thrusted yourself back in the dream as you relayed it to Levi, losing your place in reality for a moment.

Levi finally reached for you, in the sense of physical reassurance. His right hand reached for your upper arm, tugging you forward. He pulled himself forward too, so he could position you against him. His left hand came around and looped around the nape of your neck, pulling you into his chest. His right hand left your arm and immediately came around your back. “Calm down Y/N. It was just a nightmare.” Probably not the best words to be comforting someone with, brushing aside the valid response to a nightmare.  But Levi wasn’t one to verbally comfort someone without soft reassurances. He says it how he sees it. Stating the facts. But it was the calmness in his voice that people can find safety and reassurance with. Almost like he was trying take your burden and carry it so you don’t have to. Humanity’s Strongest. Your hands shot out from resting in your lap to gripping his shirt on either side of his hips. He could feel his shirt tugged down slightly as the material scrunching into creases, but it didn’t seem to bother him. If it did, he didn’t show any signs. Despite the fear of wanting to close your eyes again, your eyes immediately squeezed shut when your ear was pressed to his chest, the sound of his heart beating in perfect rhythm blocking out the screams from your nightmare that still echoed in your head.

Your exposed ear was resting in the crevice of this thumb and forefinger, long slender fingers threaded through your locks as he gently cradled your head to his chest. This had been the most comforting thing you needed, to be engulfed in his scent, his warmth. Despite being the cold, distant, stoic man he is, even when comforting someone to this degree, he still had warmth and compassion within him, it’s just hidden behind that exterior he wears. If you’re smart enough, understand him enough, you’ll be able to see through the cracks and realise it’s the things he does that offer comfort.

Your body shook with the sobs that you were trying to hold in but failing miserably at doing so. Your teeth had hold of your bottom lip to force the sounds from pouring out but if you bit down any harder, you’d cause yourself to bleed. So you surrendered the fight and let it all out. Your body trembling violently beneath his grip as your entire being was struggling to let out all that you held in.

You felt Levi’s grip on you tighten just a little bit, obviously not enough to hurt where his fingers were cradling your head. “It’s alright… It’s just a nightmare. You’re safe.” He couldn’t promise that the nightmare wouldn’t become a reality, because there’s always a chance that it could. And he didn’t see the need to make empty promises. But he couldn’t just silently let you cry it out like this. Not when your sobs were wails of pain. It’s likely you might have woken some more of your colleagues up, especially with your bedroom door still open, but Levi didn’t give a shit about it right now. And he certainly wasn’t going to let go just to shut the door. If someone came in to investigate, he’d have no issue telling them to scram. It really must’ve been a fucked-up nightmare for you. He could only imagine just how graphically the nightmare played out for you. He wouldn’t be all that surprised if you chose to stay awake for the remainder of the night. He’d rather you not because you all have an early start in the morning with training, but he’d also understand. As long as you’re still right to train, he didn’t care if you didn’t fall back asleep.

Levi’s heartrate didn’t change, it kept beating in perfect rhythm, matching the calm tone of his voice and demeanor. You were grateful for this because it helped ground you once more as your cries quietened down. But you didn’t move away from him, nor did he make any movement to pull away from you. He continued to hold you to his chest, his other hand giving your back a small rub here or there. He patiently and quietly waited until you were ready to decide what to do next.

But you never did. You stayed like that for a good long while, Levi never questioned it, never moved. He continued to hold you as long as you needed. Oddly enough, your eyes begun to flutter close. The emotions draining you completely with exhaustion. It wasn’t until Levi felt his shirt relax from your grip that he craned his head to take a glance at your features. Your nose was red from crying, your eyes were slightly puffy, lashes still wet from the tears. It was at this point that Levi finally made the first movement as he stirred you from dozing off to sleep so you could lay down properly. And you did so without little grumble. Too exhausted to fight it off. Levi stayed. He got up to close the door, but he pulled up a chair and stayed. It was only a couple of hours until the sun rose above the hills. If you could get a couple hours worth of sleep in, he’d be content with that. The room was already lighting up with the darkened morning beginning to fade as the sun made its way around to their side of the earth.

Arms and legs crossed, his gaze rested on your peaceful features, contemplating how badly this nightmare had shaken you up. He knows you’ve seen horrors, had a few close calls with death – they all have. But he’s never seen anything to have brought you down like this. Though, there’s always something that makes a person break. Even him. You always amazed him how strong you were. You carried the team the same way he did. Putting aside your emotions and feelings in order to push the squad forward and focus on the mission. You were their sounding board, their grounding point. Especially when they needed someone to talk on a personal level where Levi couldn’t offer them that. If it weren’t for your softness, you would’ve made a great Vice Captain.

He cares for you. More than you’ll ever know. More than he’ll ever let on, or admit to. It’s why he chose to stay rather than retreat back to his office. He didn’t feel comfortable leaving you after witnessing you break the way you did over something so trivial as a nightmare. Even though you were asleep and there was nothing more Levi could do.

He stayed.

#Levi x Reader #Captain Levi x Reader #Levi Ackerman x Reader #AoT x reader #Attack on Titan x Reader #SnK x Reader #Shingeki no Kyoujin x Reader #Levi Hurt Comfort #Levi Nightmare #your-wings-of-freedom

[sneezefiction]

embrace

Tsukishima x Reader - Scenario 

@belli-jelly’s event request: “#7 with Tsukki ❤️ thank youu!”

a/n: “embrace” with Tsukishima is such a soft idea. he just needs a hug and to feel loved n supported n stuff, ya know? i hope u enjoy!! <333

warnings: slight language, angst (but barely?)

wc: 1990

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Tsukishima makes his ways through the apartment door, kicking off his shoes a little more forcefully than usual. The thunk of the soles on the tile embodies whatever vexation he’d been simmering in for the duration of the day. A weak, frustration-fueled sigh exits his body.

From the kitchen, you can already tell that something is off. He hasn’t called out to you with his usual, “Hey stupid, I’m home.” You hadn’t even received his typical text telling you he was leaving the gym. The tense silence seeps into the airspace as he makes his way toward you, Tsukki’s feet dragging with every step.

As he turns corner, you’re greeted by features taut with fatigue. It’s as though he’d been running on empty all day, barely making it home with only fumes of energy leftover.

Tsukki’s eyes were undoubtedly strained. The white, intense light of the gym combined with deep concentration kept him on high-alert with eyes wide open at all times.

His shoulders maintained a somewhat slumped position, losing an inch or two of height in the process. The mental weight of handling everything on his own had finally reached him physically.

This hadn’t been a good day, per se.

And if Tsukki had the energy to speak, he would probably tell you how much he would rather be in a month-long coma than experience that level of misery again.

But the hushed air remains and a bizarre staring contest takes place between you two instead of passing words. It’s hard to speak when you know that, deep down, words could never do his terrible days any justice. That even a thoughtful sentence or a well-intended comment would simply drown under Tsukki’s sea of thought, never resurfacing or coming up for air to be heard or understood.

He’s too exhausted to process even the shortest of loving dialogues. And you can tell.

So you sift through other possibilities.

Ways to calm him. To remind him that you care and want to look after him.

Should you make him dinner? He’s probably already eaten. Watch a movie together? No, the light would bother his tired eyes even more. Just go to bed? He would only continue to stir through his disappointments and be kept up by the throbbing of soreness in his legs.

As your eyes trickle down the length of his body, which is now leaning on the countertop as he takes a long sip out of his water bottle, you come to one final alternative…

But it’s always a bit of a gamble. A slight risk.

To touch or not to touch.

Would he lean into it like a self-satisfied, curious cat, tilting his lean body into your affectionate antics? Or would his brittle, biting character and miserable mood cause himself to crumble and fall away from the warmth and comfort of your smaller arms?

On one hand, you might experience your beloved Tsukishima’s gentler side. The one that held you as though he were a mama bird wrapping her wide-spanned wings around your precious form. Instinctively protective. A second-natured response to the way you circled your arms around his torso, tugging him into your field, requesting closeness and vulnerability. It could potentially get his mind off of the day and focus him on the here and now.

But on the other hand, Tsukki had a track record of off days. Jumping away from the soft glide of the pads of your fingertips. On those days, your embrace seemed to resemble that of a thorny, roseless bush to the wavy-haired blonde. The chance of him tugging away, leaving you drained and drooping, was higher than you had ever wanted to bet on. The possibility of him ending up at the opposite side of the bed seemed to increase after experiences like these.

And to be honest, you could never be sure if the touch-deterring wall he built up was to protect himself or you. Yet you always try to find ways to chip away at his salty, skeptical barrier without overstepping any fragile, unspoken boundaries.

It’s a simple concept. However, avoiding his sensitivities is an endless dance and is much harder than it may look. Especially at the end of a long day of pro-league practice, where sweat, sulking, and inferiority complexes don’t usually mix well.

But this was the only viable option left, so you get over your own worries and approach Tsukishima’s weary form. You stop just a few inches before him, his eyes dropping to meet yours. He was even more beaten down up close. The defeated expression he carried in tandem with his worn-out demeanor made you physically ache for him. 

“Tsukki… you’re not lookin’ too hot right now.” You let out a breathy laugh, slowly lifting yourself onto your tiptoes to brush a hand through his messy hair, testing the waters.

He doesn’t flinch away from your movements, so you sink back down onto the soles of your feet, letting your hand run down the side of his face.

“No shit, Sherlock. I don’t exactly feel great either.” He shoots back, but there’s a somber, troubled tinge.

Tsukki inches toward you, looking away as he tilts the side of his head into the palm of your hand. Your fingers cup his cheek.

Everyone knew how Tsukki acted when he was annoyed or angry. Snappy, sarcastic comments would be strewn in an almost poetic manner, kindly crushing those under his scrutiny. Many had seen Tsukishima after a merciless game, beaten and worn out. He would still have a muted fire behind his efforts and would carry himself with dignity, even if he didn’t feel confidence rise inside of him.

But gloominess? It doesn’t suit him. Not now, not ever.

And currently, he’s emanating a dreary, depressing sadness, like being caught in a rainstorm without an umbrella to shield you. It’s helpless and uncontrollable. Utterly humiliating.

You can practically feel the strain of the day radiating off of him. Tsukki had a tendency to wither slowly and cautiously. Not allowing anyone to watch as his snarky comments fizzled out and his sharp gaze gradually dull. By the look in his golden eyes, it was obvious that something in him had already snapped like an old tree branch. Battered and bruised by storm after brutal summer storm, finally shattering under the repetitive pressures of failure and imposter syndrome.

In the past, he had let apathy take over in order to not burden you. Withholding affection, thinking it would keep you safe from his sinking atmosphere when in reality he wished to drink in your tenderness. To fall under your grasp, sinking his head under your chin and lay across your chest.

But maybe it was all too much.

Too much to hold in. To carry alone.

“Kei…” At the use of his first name, he physically softens. Drawing his arms around your middle and clasping his hands behind your back, he gently rests his chin on your head.

“You can always lean on me.” You whisper into the fabric of his shirt.

Your words carry a deeper semblance. That you really are here for him. Physically, mentally, and emotionally ready to lift him up.

You picked a good time for physical touch because he only pulls you in tighter.

He’s pretty warm and smells like sweat mixed with deodorant and his cedar-scented shampoo. You grasp the cloth and squeeze him into you, making sure to keep him steady and balanced. His breathing falls into a gentle rhythm, almost as though he were falling asleep standing up.

“If you weren’t so lanky I would pick you up, but you’re a damn tree.” You sigh, poking fun at him.

The touches were cathartic. Healing. Authentic. Your lighthearted comments kept things comfortable, hindering him from drawing away due to feelings of unworthiness or self-consciousness.

“Wow, okay, bold words for someone who can hardly seem to pick up a bag of flour. You couldn’t hold me even if you were my height.” He snickers, tension releasing and adrenaline wearing off from the high-energy day.

You shift to look up at Tsukki, your chin gently pressing into his chest. He’s already staring down at you. You can’t help that a blush works its way up your neck and onto your cheeks, the warmth from his unusual touch sending you unwarranted fuzzy feelings. As much as you wished this embrace could be all for Tsukki, you’d wanted to hug him with all your might for a while now.

“Y/n… Honest question, so don’t laugh at me. Why are you doing this?” Tsukishima breaks eye contact, arms shifting to lean your chest more on top of his as he sinks a little deeper onto the counter, his back supported by the ledge.

“What do you mean by ‘this’?” You inquire, eyes still fixed on him, searching his expression.

“I mean... You know when things are going to shit. You know when I need something. A back massage, a slap to the face, hell, even a coffee sometimes.” He snorts, trying not to take his own question too seriously.

You’re the one to sigh now. Doesn’t he know how these things work by now? That being in a relationship with him meant more than insulting the daylights out of each other and going out to dinner? Apparently even Tsukishima lacks a lot perspective when it comes to loving another human being.

“You’re stubborn as hell.” You state plainly, your face going blank.

“What?”

“You refuse to see that you need help too sometimes, babe. Hate to break it to ya, but I actually like listening to and hugging you.” You break into a small smile.

“What does that have to do with anything?” He rolls his eyes at your confusing sentence.

“Are you that dense?” You express with mock disdain at his response.

“Tsukki, I’m saying that you don’t burden me! That I want to be there for you even after shitty days like these! You’re an absolute dumbass!” You snicker and your smile reaches your eyes, crinkling and squinting as his meet yours.

Instead of saying anything, Tsukishima rests in place, dumbfounded.

It’s true, you always were there for him.

Cheering at every game. Cooking dinner for him when you knew he would get home way too late and practically starving. Letting him rant relentlessly about losses and seemingly endless practices.

So why was it that only after breaking down in every way possible, he would finally let you see his most vulnerable thoughts and fears. That he would allow you to witness his exhaustion only once it had reached its peak. That it took Tsukki completely collapsing to let you wrap you arms around him.

And you both guess that it’s because old habits die hard.

Tsukki would always be Tsukki. A little too cold and relentlessly set on drenching others in his never-ending supply of sarcasm. Reluctant to accept help until it was already showing through the bleeding cracks of his figure and laced within his pained speech.

Because for someone so good at putting up and breaking through blocks, Tsukishima needed help with the walls that he had built up under his skin over the years. He needed to see that he couldn’t always protect you from his fears, but that you would be there to help him fight them. Or at least hug them away when it all got too much.

And as he presses a gentle kiss onto your forehead, you know it will be okay. Because embraces like these are what chip away at walls of fear. It’s the first step and you can already feel the tension crumble away, allowing warmth to surround the two of you. 

So you begin to remind him more and more that you like hugs. And he lets you hold him far more often, slowly but surely letting you deeper into his mind and into his arms. A much needed and highly welcomed addition to your everyday life.

---

tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046, @miss-rin, @shou-kunn, @senkuwu-chan, @super-noya, @stcrryskies, @holaaaf, @sugacookiies

(comment or send an ask to be added to my general tag list) 

#haikyuu #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima #hq #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq scenarios #hq imagines #hq oneshot #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshot #tsukishima oneshot #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima angst #tsukishima scenarios #tsukishima imagines #600 follower event #sneezefiction

[jlsadphoenix]

a map and a shovel (to my achilles’ heel)

The evolution of Emma and Killian’s thoughts for each other, told through the early events of their lives together. | 2/2 | AO3

KILLIAN

EMMA

because how the hell had this man managed to see right past her walls in the few hours he spent in her company, when people who’ve known her months, years, had trouble doing the same?

for as long as she’s known him, even with his flowery language and pirate regalia and cluelessness to modern conveniences, he’s always felt the realest person around

Tagging: @teamhook @lillpon @ownedbycaptainswan @inwordsthatnobodyknows1121

1.

“Hey,” Emma starts, noticing a hand reaching out from a pile of bodies. “Hey, there’s someone under there!”

The man they pull out is thanking them, but there are alarms going off in her head. Something’s wrong, this doesn’t make sense. Their eyes meet, his eyes are fearful, yes, grateful as well, but just a bit calculating, too, and her instincts say there’s something more to him.

He sits at the table looking exhausted as Emma asks Mulan (shit, how was this her life, fucking Mulan) more. The story Mulan tells her about the man seems perfectly plausible, but, “Why would Cora leave a survivor?” It’s too messy for someone like Cora. So she offers him some water.

He starts to explain how he hid under the bodies to survive, but there’s something wrong. He’s — not lying, not completely, but Emma’d be damned if he’s telling the full truth. So she leans her elbows down on the table, bringing her head level to his, I’m pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me, she keeps her voice even, calm, face sympathetic, until —

“I’m telling you the truth,”

Her lie detector goes off.

Got you.

He’s good, she has to admit as she plasters on a sympathetic smile for him, but not good enough. I can guide you —

Ha, not a chance.

So Emma grabs him by the hair, pulls out her knife, and puts it to his throat.

“You’re not gonna guide us anywhere until you tell us who you really are,” she really can’t help the bit of pride that swells up at the flash of surprise in the man’s eyes.

2.

Just looking up at the beanstalk seems daunting. They had to climb that thing?

Whatever story you think you know, my dear, is most certainly wrong, has her scrounging her memory for what she remembered of Jack and the Beanstalk. Something with a cow, she remembered, and — was it a goose or a harp? Ah, she’s getting distracted, and Hook’s amused look and drawling voice really isn’t helping. Very bad form, he finishes his story.

“The treasure remains, and amongst it is the compass,” he says, focusing on her again, and really, why is he always speaking like she’s the only one in this group? “Once we get it, steal the ashes from her, then we’re on our way,” he finishes jovially.

“How do we know you’re not just using us to get the compass for Cora?” Mulan asks suspiciously, and really, Emma could become good friends with her, the way they easily agree.

Hook answers seriously, ‘cause you four are far safer company, clear of any deception. Good enough for now, she supposes, and suggests they start climbing. They’re wasting time sharing stories here.

Then Hook laughs a bit, says only he and one other can climb, and he is seriously getting on her last nerve, don’t be afraid to, y’know, really get into it, he grins, bouncing on his feet, looking completely delighted by this, and why did Captain Hook have to be gorgeous and not all perms and wax mustaches?

They move away from Hook, and she tilts her head back to peer up the beanstalk as the others argue. Damn, she can’t even see the top. How long would that take to climb? She absently hears them arguing over wars or something or another, and out of corner of her eye, she can see Hook trying to hide his impatience despite his earlier words.

The fact that she can relate to that irritation has her interrupting the others, because HenryHenryHenry; who cares about number of wars or who has more to lose when Henry is waiting for her? But she can’t trust Hook either, so she tells Mulan to cut the beanstalk down in ten hours if she’s not back down, makes her promise to bring Mary Margaret home.

Hook smiles cheekily at her, I was hoping it would be you, and she rolls her eyes as he puts the cuff around her wrist.

“I can’t climb one-handed, can I?” He protests, and begrudgingly, she gives him the hook, but, “Don’t think I’m taking my eyes off you for a second,” she warns.

He simply smiles, I would despair if you did, and up they climb.

3.

He’s talking.

She’ll ignore him, she will ignore him, she will ignore him, she will — “I’m concentrating,” Emma finally snaps.

“No, you’re afraid,” he says, and what? The hell does she have to be afraid about? “Afraid to talk, to reveal yourself,” he slows his climb to let her catch up to his side. “To trust me.”

Trust? Really? From him, of all people? “You should be used to people not trusting you,”

Hook only rolls his eyes, ah, the pirate thing, as if it was just some afterthought. You’re something of an open book, he tells her then, and Emma can’t help but pause, can’t help the faint amusement and curiosity, because she’s been called many things in life, but open book was definitely not one of them.

“Let’s see,” he starts, voice deceptively mild, “you volunteered to come up here because you were the most motivated, you need to get back to a child,” and Emma nearly scoffs, because he’s an eavesdropper, big surprise.

“Ah, but you don’t want to abandon him the way you were abandoned,” and still, his voice is casual, as though they were just talking about the weather, but Emma stills, because how could he know —

He looks away from her briefly as he explains something about Neverland, and Lost Boys, but she’s still scrambling to cover up whatever hell hole in her walls he managed to see past. The look you get when you’ve been left alone, but she didn’t come from Neverland, she’s not from some fairytale world despite what Henry says, she was just —

“But an orphan’s an orphan,” he continues. There’s something in his voice, but she won’t focus on it before this gets into more dangerous territory, but he doesn’t seem to notice, pushing on, love has been all too rare in your life, hasn’t it, and, have you ever even been in love, and no —

— nope no no no, absolutely not, she will not go there, will not think of her stolen bug, of stolen convenience store food, of a stolen keychain, of stolen moments in stolen motel rooms, of stolen watches, of a stolen future in a cold, empty jail cell with a positive pregnancy test, of two stolen years in —

No, she answers him, because how the hell had this man managed to see right past her walls in the few hours he spent in her company, when people who’ve known her months, years, had trouble doing the same? So she pushes ahead of the climb, resolutely ignoring his too perceptive gaze burning into her, focusing on the climb to run away from the memories that were threatening to resurface.

4.

She starts to turn away from the giant, to head back to the beanstalk, compass in hand, but then, try something new, darling, is ringing in her ears, and she hesitates, glancing back at the pile of rocks Hook is trapped under.

She can’t trust him, she can’t, she tries to convince herself as she asks the giant to keep Hook trapped but unharmed for ten hours. Every instinct she has tells her that he can be trusted, that he hasn’t once lied to her. Every instinct says that she can take a chance on him, that they could be allies, friends, maybe —

No.

No, no, he’ll turn on her the first chance he gets, she tries to think rationally. But he’s grinning at her, pure exhilaration on his face, and he calls her brilliant and amazing, without any lie or underlying motive, and he stares down at the compass in awe, and she can’t help but think of how human he looks when he’s like this, so far removed from any fairytale or cocky pirate captain persona or the man who would go to any lengths for his lost love.

Hook reaches for the compass and doesn’t even look all that bothered when she pulls away, simply smiling and offering up his hand, eyes bright, face open, and come, let’s go, and she takes his hand but she can’t.

If she’s wrong about him, she could lose Henry, could lose her way to Storybrooke, he could leave her cold and empty and lost in some dead realm, reminiscent of a cold and empty jail cell, lost for two years in Tallahassee.

She stares back at his bright and open face, watches as he gives her a tiny, encouraging nod.

She has no reason to be wrong about him.

She closes the shackles around his wrist.

His face goes slack with the shock, and it has her up and scrambling back out of his reach.

What are you doing, the way his voice trembles in his attempt to stay calm only serves to make her feel worse, eyes falling away from him. Her voice fails her as she tries to explain, explain that — that he — that she can’t—

“Emma, look at me,” he pleads, “have I told you a lie?”

He hasn’t. Not since she called him out on the blacksmith act, since she put a knife to his throat, since she tied him to a tree, and left him to ogres until she heard him call out to her, good for you, irritated and a little sulky and just a bit of grudging respect.

He didn’t lie when he smiled down at her, I was hoping it would be you, didn’t lie when he called her an open book, when he bandaged her hand with his scarf with a no, it’s not, or when she pressed him about the name on his wrist, despite the way he had shut down fast, faster than anything else she had seen from him yet.

His voice is still calm as he tries to reason with her, why do this to me now, gaze steady, as though it can still be easily brushed aside if she just lets him go, but —

“I can’t take the chance that I’m wrong about you,” because despite what her instincts say, she refuses to take that step (refuses to try something new), and “I’m sorry,” because she is. But he turned so quick on Cora, he could do just the same to them, turn back to Cora with the compass, and —

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry?” Hook pulls against the chain as he tries to move closer, voice furious. She’s shutting down, and fast. She can’t let him change her mind, she can’t take that chance, the chance she’s wrong, the chance of him betraying her, the chance of losing her way to Henry, the chance on him.

“And you’re not gonna die,” she refutes him, “I just need a head start, that’s all.”

And she’s turning away from him, walking back to the beanstalk, and he’s calling out to her, furious and desperate (betrayed, abandoned) but she won’t, she can’t look back, because —

She shuts her eyes against his shouts.

She leaves him behind.

(Because, despite her rationalizing, the more her instincts say he can be trusted, the more she wants to take that chance, to listen to her gut, to — to —

The more it terrified her. The more she needs to distance herself. What better way than to leave him in chains in some cold, empty room with a giant?)

5.

The compass disappears from her hand, and appears in Cora’s as she stares gleefully at it.

No.

No, what — ?

Emma pushes uselessly at the cell gates as Cora thanks Aurora for her help.

Thanks Auro—?

What?

She turns on her, furious, how would you do this, but she registers belatedly that Aurora looks as bewildered as them, and Cora’s crooning voice only confirms this as she pulls out a red, pulsing, beating heart. “You took her heart?” She stares, horrified. This — this is what it means when Regina — when Graham — when —

“Actually, I did,” Hook corrected her, voice low. Emma turns to him then, having tried and failed to ignore him leaning casually against the wall, staring fixatedly down at his hook, “it was a gift.” He finally turns to face them. He doesn’t say anything more, face completely closed off in a way she hasn’t seen on him aside from when she had asked about Milah, doesn’t flinch as Cora clenches her fist, Aurora crumpling in pain, doesn’t move until Cora passes him, pushing off the wall to follow.

“Hook,” she tried, desperate. She can’t lose the compass, lose Henry. “Wait,”

He pauses.

She breathed shakily, a desperate, irrational swell of hope as he turns to face her. “Please don’t do this, my son is in Storybrooke, he needs me.”

He moved towards her then, slow, measured steps, and just from the look on his face she knows she fucked up. “Perhaps you should have considered that before you abandoned me on that beanstalk,” his tone low and dangerous.

She shakes her head because that — it’s not — because — you would’ve done the same, and she keeps her grip against the bars, keeps her voice cool and knowing.

“Actually no.”

It’s said flatly, just plain fact.

That — that can’t be right.

She left him behind before he could do it to her, before he could do what he’s doing now, except—

He’s pulling out a bean on some sort of necklace, and she reaches desperately for it, unsuccessful, and this is a symbol, dangling the bean just in front of her, “something that was once magical, and full of hope, possibility... Now look at it,” once again his voice is deceptive, mild and unassuming, and she follows his gaze. “Dried up, dead. Useless. Much like you,”

He’s walking away, Emma realizes with increasing panic. Is this how he felt?

Just as I’m done with you, is this revenge for the way she left him chained up on the beanstalk, helpless but to watch her retreating back? Fitting, she thinks dimly to herself, watching him walk away.

He did betray her, just as she thought (because she did it first), and she thinks of her way back to Henry, fading with each step Hook takes away from them, thinks dimly of trying to call out to him (just as he did to her), thinks dimly of what could’ve happened if she had trusted him, trusted herself, would she still have wound up here, thinks dimly of how flat Hook’s words were to her, how closed off, a complete turn from the start of their climb up the beanstalk, thinks I did this, I did that to him, I got us caught in this trap —

She thinks maybe she should have trusted him, but now she won’t get a chance to right that wrong, doesn’t even know if she would want to if she got the chance.

6.

How could you not? You don’t believe in your parents. Or in magic. Or even yourself.

Goddamn Rumplestiltskin — Gold — whatever his name was now.

When have you ever taken a real leap of faith?

Because what they needed right now — when Henry was missing — was to separate.

You’re still just that bail-bonds person.

What the hell did he know, Emma thought bitterly, the burn in her muscles not doing anything to clear her mind. She paused a moment to catch her breath, pushing back the swell of frustration, the burning in her throat. Henry is missing. That’s the fact of the matter. This is no time to doubt herself, to —

“Aw, don’t stop on my account.”

Hook.

Of course. Because she needed more things on her mind, needed more questions she couldn’t find the answer to. “What are you doing?”

Getting ready for a fight, she manages to ground out, ignoring Hook’s quip, because like hell she would tell him that she was doing her own equivalent of a pep talk, of going through mindless, repetitive motions to try to clear her mind of Gold’s words, or tell him that she was starting to believe them, not because Gold had said it flat to her face, but because it was all already in her head.

And in what is starting to become a frustrating pattern, she doesn’t need to tell him anyway.

“Don’t let Rumplestiltskin get you down, love,” is said gently, free of any judgement, and dammit, how does he see through her so easily (open book), he had done it on the beanstalk, done it in Granny’s with a simple why are you really doing this, and the more time she spends in his presence, the more she understood the weight of her own words when Emma had told him you and I, we understand each other — God, was that just a couple hours ago?

“What do you want?” Because there was no chance she was going to go further with this. He pulls out a key as he starts to talk about Neal.

Yes, because an even better topic conversation with the man who can read her like no one else was her recently killed ex who she still has a shit ton of mixed and complicated feelings for.

Hook offers her a sword, then, a quiet this was his, has her looking up and taking a look at his face.

Emma might have a harder time understanding his particular motives right now, but she is not the only open book on this ship, she thinks, noting the way his eyes don’t meet hers, the way his head sways, the edge to his I’m not when she accuses him of being sentimental. What a terrible liar, she muses, trying to ignore the warm feeling starting to replacing the cold dread that Gold’s words had left.

“I just thought you could use it where we’re going, you know,” he hands her a shot glass, and Hook may be a terrible liar, but he’s certainly good at deflecting, she thinks, as he drawls out, “to fight.”

He pours her some rum, and somehow, the moment the glass was filled, she realizes that this was exactly what she needed. Not some pull ups to get ready for a fight, not to talk about her feelings with her parents, not pointless reassurances or empty promises and words. Just a moment to take a breath and process, free of outside influence. Thanks.

“To Neal,” Hook offers simply, and they toast and they drink and they sit in silence, and it is ridiculous how easy it is to be in his presence.

He comes with no expectations of who she should be, no underlying disappointment throughout every interaction when she is nothing expected, no pressure to be a lost daughter, or a mother who lost ten years with her son, or Neal’s ex, or some savior responsible for everyone’s happiness, or princess, or even a bail-bonds person.

With him, she simply is.

So she asks about Neal, because she can’t imagine him young and a teenager, playing pirate with Hook, because no matter how much he had broken her heart, how much just his name reminds her of the cold metal of a cuff around her ankle as she gave birth, or the cold metal of the watch on her wrist that night, being in Neal’s presence made her feel sixteen and recklessly in love again, and seeing him die made her wish for better closure, and being in Hook’s presence was easy and calming, and he was the only other person she knows who she could talk to about Neal.

(who she feels she could someday tell the whole story of her and Neal, without judgement or expectation or suggestions to forgive and forget)

Naturally, Hook sees right through her question, and true to form, as she is starting to learn, answers plainly and free of judgement or amusement or those stupid sympathetic looks that make her want to hit something. “Long enough to know I miss him, too.”

Their eyes meet. No more words are said, and it is quiet. The room is heavy. And it is easy.

7.

“Hook,” David says as soon as he separates from Mary Margaret. “He saved my life.”

Emma’s heart skips a few beats, focusing sharply on David, trying to find any injuries.

“Are you sure you wanna tell them that, mate?” Hook asks him cautiously, but Emma is far too worried about the idea that those two were in any situation at all that called for someone’s life being saved. Are they alright, what happened?

“On our trek,” David starts, “we were ambushed by Lost Boys. Pinned down, outnumbered, but Hook — he risked his life to stop me from getting hit by a poisoned arrow.”

He what? Now she turns to look at Hook, but he shifts uncomfortably, looking away from them all, forcing up a short smile as David approaches. “If it wasn’t for Hook, I wouldn’t be alive. Your flask, please,” Hook seems to be able to meet only David’s eyes as he hands him the flask. I thought he deserved a little credit.

Only now does Emma’s heart slow down a bit, because just how close had she come to losing her friend — her father? Thank you, Hook manages, but still looks supremely uncertain and uncomfortable, even with the gratefulness softening it just a bit. They pass the rum about, but Emma can’t help but stare.

Once again he surprises her, and once again, she sees that honorable gentleman peeking out from underneath that cocky pirate captain persona. She saw it when he took her hand, insisting on bandaging it, when he had smiled at her, so bright and open, her heart had skipped a beat, saw it when he had put himself to pains to reach for Aurora’s heart, when he had so blatantly thrown their fight at Lake Nostos (No way did she beat a pirate in a sword fight when she had only held a sword for a week), saw it when he turned his ship around, gave her the bean with a simple, maybe I just needed reminding that I could, saw it below the decks of his ship when he offered her Neal’s sword and they drank a toast to his memory.

To Hook, she murmurs, taking a swig of the rum, before turning back to him as the others return back to their camp.

He is turned away from her completely, staring fixatedly on a tree, and the words come out before she can stop herself, “D’you really save his life?”

“Does that surprise you?” he asks, and he barely glances at her before turning back to the tree. She gives back the rum.

“Well, you and David aren’t exactly... how do you say it? Mates,” she mimics his accent, expecting a smirk or a small laugh.

Instead, he finally turns to face her, serious and honest, “Doesn’t mean I’d leave your father to perish on this island.”

Thank you, is all she can say to the sincerity in his eyes and voice.

A slow, teasing grin spreads across his face, and she knows he’s putting up an act, directing their conversation to something much lighter, but regardless, Emma feels the mood lighten almost immediately, feels herself start to feel just a bit giddy, giddy from speaking to Henry, from David and Hook making it back safe, despite the sextant, from the rum, from this man standing across her, who constantly keeps her and her expectations on its toes, who she’s felt connected to since they climbed the damn beanstalk and he revealed just a bit of himself when he tied that damn scarf with his damn mouth, and turned his ship around and offered his assistance in helping Henry when there was nothing in it for him.

Perhaps gratitude is in order now, he muses, tapping his lips with his finger, and she can’t help but return his teasing smile, because “Yeah, that’s what the thank you was for,” but he just makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat as he takes just another step forward.

“Is that all your father’s life is worth to you?” Hook asks, and that giddiness seems to swell just a bit more, because, he saved David’s life. He turned his ship around, gave her Neal’s sword, gives advice freely, directed them to Tinkerbell, showed them what plants are safe to eat and which to avoid, even with all the doubts the others throw his way, and all the while, he simply turns to her, smiles, calls her excellent, backs all her ideas, and never once does he seem to doubt her.

“Please, you couldn’t handle it,”

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it,”

He pops the t, the corner of his lips tugging up, and he stares at her with bright, open blue eyes, so so reminiscent of the look he had given her when she pulled him out of the rubble, calling her brilliant and amazing, and asking to see the compass, and offering his hand up to her.

She should leave.

She should walk away now, head back to David and Mary Margaret and Regina.

Oh, fuck it.

Her hands close around the collar of his coat, dragging him in for a kiss even before she could finish the thought. She keeps a death grip on his collar as the other winds up in his ridiculously soft hair, and his lips taste of rum and Neverland fruits, and he doesn’t move for a moment, far too surprised, before his hand comes up her own hair and he breathes in harshly through his nose and he responds, and oh.

Hook kisses the same way he does just about anything else; with everything he has. It has her burning, because he kisses like he’s challenging her, kisses like a drowning man taking a breath for the first time, kisses like she’s the sun and he hasn’t seen daylight in years, kisses like he’ll never kiss anyone again.

They separate, but their foreheads are pressed together, and she still has a death grip on his coat, and they are breathing harshly, and all she can think is, oh.

That was —

“That was...” and he sounds wrecked, stunned, as if he hasn’t just given her the best kiss of her life, and oh, oh, oh, oh no, but even with the growing panic, she feels good, and he feels good, and they feel good together, and —

A one-time thing, she forces herself to step away, to turn and head back into camp, and she makes the mistake of looking at his face, as stunned and wrecked as he sounds, brow furrowing at her words, and the words taste a bit wrong in her mouth, tastes like a lie, but it can’t be a lie, because there’s no chance she’s letting herself —

“Don’t follow me,” she instructs him, not letting herself look at him again, “Wait five minutes, go get some firewood or something.”

“As you wish,” he calls at her back, and the smile that spreads on her face is completely involuntary.

Her heart is still pounding, lips still burning, and she still feels so so good, for the first time since Henry was taken, she was in some semblance of a good mood, and he was the one to put it there, with his stupid easy faith, stupid smiles and compliments and suggestions, urging her to find a way to speak to Henry, and saving David’s life, and the stupid way he doesn’t even expect anything back, not even acknowledgement, and the stupid, goddamn way he kisses like his life depends on it, why the hell does he kiss like that.

What the hell made her think kissing him would be a good idea? She can panic about this later.

(She can still taste the rum and fruits.)

(She thinks maybe she really couldn’t handle it.)

8.

The whole Neal thing isn’t enough to distract from the burn on her lips, the memory of those bright, open blue eyes, or the teasing voice, or that damn kiss, like Hook was breathing air for the first time.

“I kissed him,” Emma blurts out the moment she and Mary Margaret are out of earshot from David and Hook.

“What?” she asks, “Who?” As if there’s an abundance of options she has of people to kiss.

“Hook, I kissed Hook,” and the memory of his lips on hers are still so fresh, the taste of rum and fruits, that bright, giddy feeling he had managed to bring out of her still echoing in her chest, even as the thought of finding Neal makes her heart ache.

“Oh,” says Mary Margaret, voice high, with surprise or suspended judgement or maybe both, maybe neither, Emma doesn’t know, “Wh-why?”

Because he sees her and has no expectations for her, because he doesn’t lie to her, because of the way he had smiled at her, the teasing lilt to his voice, the easy faith he puts on her, because he came back and offered to help save Henry, saved David, and because they shared a drink, shared moments on the ship, on the beanstalk, in this damn island, because try as he might, he just can’t hide that gentleman underneath the selfish pirate persona.

I don’t know, she says instead, “I-I was — it’s been a while, I was feeling good —“

“Did it mean anything?”

Yes, she thinks instinctively, except she doesn’t know what it means, doesn’t even know why she brought it up, because it was a one-time thing, and, it was just a kiss, because it should have just been a kiss, but her voice is starting to pitch defensively, completely involuntary, and she can still feel the pull of his lips on hers, the taste of fruit and rum, and the way he had kissed like —

“I’m sure Neal will understand,” completely falters her thoughts, because the hell does Neal have anything to do wi—

Oh, right, they’re on their way now to rescue her apparently not-so-dead-ex, the father of her son, who she said I love you to right before he fell into the portal, and she had just told her mother she kissed another man. It must seem like Emma was worried about what Neal might think, which — No. “If he’s still alive,”

“Emma, I get what you’re doing, you know,” says Mary Margaret carefully, “you don’t wanna open yourself up the the hope that he’s alive, but you should,” completely stops her in her tracks.

Why, She stares at Mary Margaret, heart sinking.

She had wanted some closure from Neal, yes, she deserved that closure after all that he’s done to her, the memory of that damn alleyway, cuffs closing around her wrists, and months in a cell with nothing but a keychain, car keys, and a positive pregnancy test, the way she couldn’t even bear to look at her son after she gave birth because then she’d never be able to let him go, to give him a life he deserves, the two years in Tallahassee waiting, just waiting, had her building up her walls higher and thicker than when she had left the system.

But with Neal gone, Emma had thought she could finally let it go, move past that part of her life, could live without the constant worry she had lived with for years that she would see him again someday, except she did, in possibly the worst way, slamming into him in some New York alleyway, with him getting mad at her for bringing Gold to him, scoffing and dismissing her like she was still sixteen and he hadn’t set her up to take the fall fo his crime. No, then he followed he back to Storybrooke with a fiancée who wound up kidnapping Henry for Peter Pan, even as he and her parents had dismissed all her suspicions as some petty jealousy.

No, she wanted to get closure and move on. She wasn’t sixteen and in love with the cool, older guy who had understood her anymore. She didn't want to feel sixteen anymore. She wanted to feel at ease, like she feels around Henry and his endless faith and belief in everything, around Mary Margaret before things became so much more complicated, around Hook, of all people, when he offers her a drink, when compliments and praise slip freely from his lips but seems to expects nothing in return, when he is always so open and easy to read when they are alone, when he reads her unnervingly well, not needing her to speak her doubts before he replaces it with that easy faith and a small smile.

“Because you deserve a happy ending, Emma,” Mary Margaret turns to face her, earnest, “and happy endings always start with hope,”

But what did it mean if the only hope she feels regarding Neal is the dark, grim hope that this was just a trick?

9.

“I thought Emma would wish to have something to remember you by,” Hook’s voice is terse.

“Oh, thanks, but she’s got me now,” and what? The hell is this about?

She holds out an arm to stop Hook from following Neal, woah, what was that about, but Hook is standoffish, can’t meet her eyes right, and dammit, he’s been having difficulty doing that since the Echo Caves. His words are halting, tense and just a bit uncomfortable, “I assumed he heard my secret, I also assumed you told him of our shared moment,”

“Why would you assume that,” she asks sharply. This time, he has no trouble holding her gaze, because I was hoping it meant something, but that is not the point, that is not what meant something, because it occurs to her that the only time Pan could’ve told him about Neal was immediately after their kiss, and still — “What meant something was that you told us Neal was still alive. Thank you,” she seems to be saying that to him a lot, and each time, she means it more and more. “Otherwise you could’ve kept Pan’s information to yourself.”

“Why would I have done that?” he asks genuinely, as though it never once occurred to him, as though he didn’t have everything to gain and nothing to lose if he kept the information to himself.

“Maybe Pan offered you a deal, why else would he tell you?”

“It was a test,” he says simply, unbothered, “he wanted to see if I’d leave an old friend to die, even if that old friend happens to be vying for the same woman I am,”

She stares, and thinks of how refreshing it is to speak with him, the way he doesn’t beat around the bush, the way he states his intentions plainly, never bothering with a lie, thinks of that gentleman he mentioned once, so long ago, shining through again, always there, underlying most of his actions, “And you chose your friend,” she doesn’t mean to sound so surprised.

He only shrugs, “Does that surprise you?”

She thinks she’s more surprised by how unsurprised she is.

Emma has learned so much more about Hook in their short time together, thinks of how easy it always is to be with him, to speak with him, to understand him, because he never says the words, but she knows the reason she is an open book to him is the same reason he is an open book to her.

You are a pirate, she says instead, smiling at him, wanting him to smile back, to laugh, but when he does, it is tinged with an uncharacteristic self-deprecation, yeah, that I am, and he looks down, looks away from her, and Emma thinks he shouldn’t sound like that (thinks she doesn’t want him to sound like that).

He takes a step closer, and somehow, she doesn’t feel even slightly uncomfortable by his closeness, by his openness, his sincerity, “But I also believe in good form. So when I win your heart, Emma — and I will win it. It will not be because of any trickery. It will be because you want me.”

She’s already known this, deep down. He never mentioned saving David voluntarily, even cautioned against David’s acknowledgement, he decided to be the first to speak his secret, to bear his heart to save Neal, never once bringing it up as a point of praise, and he’s so so honest, expecting nothing in return, simply happy to lay his heart down in her hands. She has to turn this conversation away from the direction it’s going, she has no time to examine her own feelings and desires, not while Henry is still in danger, she isn’t nearly as brave enough to examine herself, too scared to find out what that answer may be, where it may lead her to, and she’s nowhere near as brave as Hook to simply put herself out there like he is. “This is not a contest, Hook,”

“Isn’t it?” he questions mildly, “You’re gonna have to choose, Emma. You realize that, don’t you? Because neither one of us is gonna give up,” he gestures towards Neal’s general direction, but —

“The only thing I have to choose is the best way to get my son back,” she corrects him, because Henry will always be her priority, now, on Neverland when he’s in constant danger, back in Storybrooke where he is happy and surrounded by family, even regardless of whatever danger Storybrooke winds up in, and even when there’s no danger to be had.

“And you will,” says Hook simply, as though there isn’t even a single shred of doubt in his mind, and once again, Emma is struck by his simple faith. The answer is plain on his face, in his voice, in the silence of her lie detector, but somehow, the quiet doubt constantly on the back of her mind is calling out to her, and she can’t help but ask, can’t help the creeping vulnerability, you think so, because she has the feeling he wouldn’t laugh, wouldn’t brush it away, or mock or whatever else.

I’ve yet to see you fail, and there’s a shadow of a smile on his face as he stares back at her, but Emma knows it’s not a smile of mocking, “and when you do succeed,” he continues, uses when because in his mind, her victory is already guaranteed, no matter if they have no concrete plan to get to Henry, to defeat Pan, to leave Neverland, “well, that’s when the fun begins,” and he’s smiling properly now.

“Guys!” Neal calls out then, and Hook’s eyes dart to somewhere behind her, his face smooths out into his usual vaguely disinterested expression, hiding away the heart he so easily opens when they’re alone, but Emma is slow to tear her eyes away from him, because she still shaken, moved by his confidence and belief in her, the same that she’s only ever seen on Henry, with his unfaltering faith in the goodness of people, even ones he’s called evil, with his but I believe in you, before he collapsed and leaving her in panic and believing in magic, for him.

(She thinks she could be in serious trouble with this man.)

(She thinks she might already be in serious trouble with this man.)

10.

Emma doesn’t want to leave. Not when she had finally found her parents, found her son, found a place she could belong (a place she could call home). She’s barely holding back her tears, can see Henry doing the same, and they’re at the town line, her Bug already at the edge, but she doesn’t want to go.

Hook approaches her as soon as she moves away from the crowd, and she starts to feel even worse.

She doesn’t know what to say to him, what she wants him to know, and judging by his uncertain expression, he feels the same.

“That’s quite the vessel you captain there, Swan,” he attempts lightly, and it brings out a smile from her, however shaky, because he always seems to be able to do that to her.

She doesn’t know what she wants to say to him, but she knows she could very possibly regret not saying anything at all more than anything else.

If she has to leave, if she can never see him again, Emma knows she has to say goodbye, knows she owes it to him, owes it to herself, owes it to them.

But the smile fades from his face, and he looks about the same as she feels, and “There’s not a day that will go by that I won’t think of you,” and she knows he is not lying, does not need to use her superpower with him because he wears his damn heart on his sleeve when it comes to her, because if there’s one thing she can count on, it’s Captain Hook — Killian Jones’ honor and dedication and honesty, knows that when he makes a promise, he keeps it, and she doesn’t even have to look much further than how they met, him dedicating himself to centuries avenging an old love.

There was something building between them, she knows. It’s why she ran from him in the first place so long ago on the beanstalk. She doesn’t need his open honesty about his feelings, doesn’t need the Echo Caves to know. She was in trouble with him from the start, since he read her like an open book, and she ran from it, and she knew the moment she kissed him that whatever it was, it wasn’t something she could keep running from forever.

Until now.

(Until she felt that she might not really want to run anymore.)

But even now, when they’ll never see each other again, when there’s no consequence to keeping his heart hidden from her, he tells her the truth, tells her he won’t stop thinking of her, and she thinks, for once, he deserves some honesty in return, because she may not know what she feels for him, may not return whatever it is he feels for her, but dammit she cares about him, and she’s going to miss him. So she says good, because that’s all she can manage to say, but he still manages to understand her meaning, and he smiles, and steps back.

(She thinks her heart might just break a bit more.)

They may never know what it was that was building, but she has never met another person she could understand so well, who could understand her so well, who she feels she could someday let her walls down for, who she felt truly connected with.

She never knew what kindred spirits meant until she met him.

But then Regina says she and Henry will lose their memories, lose the years they spent in Storybrooke, lose the knowledge that she had found her family, the knowledge that she was wanted, and that Henry has more family than he could possibly know to do with, but could still easily love enough to fill his big heart, and her own heart breaks, breaks for her son, for herself, for her parents and Regina, who can’t even have the comfort that they would be thinking about them, and for Hook, who had promised her everyday but she can’t even return the favor for one more day.

(somehow, she knows, even without her memories, she would have regretted not saying goodby to Hook.)

But they are out of time, and she and Henry get into the Bug, and she starts driving.

She can feel her parents gaze, can feel Hook’s eyes, can feel her memories fading, being replaced, but she holds on as long as she can, until there’s nothing left to hold on to.

(She wonders, later, at the incredible sense of loss she feels, wonders at her acquired taste for rum, wonders at the melancholy she feels when she stares out at the ocean, or when she watches Disney movies with Henry, wonders why everything just feels wrong, feels like there’s something missing.)

11.

Emma had started to wonder who was more insane; the madman dressed head-to-toe in leather rambling about curses and family — or her for thinking, for feeling, that some part of what he’s saying actually made sense.

The moment he had turned up, nothing felt right anymore (nothing had felt right all year), felt strangely like she had known the man who showed up at her door, felt very much insane for actually leaning into the kiss for a split second, felt like she wanted to trust him, felt so much like she was missing something, something so, so, important.

Except nothing the man had said made any sort of logical sense, and she can’t get him out of her thoughts, her head, and Walsh’s proposal wasn’t helping her keep her head straight, and even when she’s throwing him in jail, she can’t help but seek him out again. But she needs answers, and he’s just pleading with her to take a baseless leap of faith, to trust him, trust herself, and he hasn’t lied once to her, no matter how insane the words spilling from his lips are.

(Everything in her is telling her to do it, to try something new.)

“As much as you deny it, deep down, you know something’s wrong, deep down, you know I’m right,” he insists, but it’s not possible, and how could she forget all of this?

He pulls out that tiny blue vial again, offers it out to her again, and again, Emma is struck by the strange familiarity of the action struck by the feeling that she knows what it feels for him to offer a drink, (for her to take it). “If you drink this it will,” he says quietly, and it’s all insane, he is insane, and she must be insane for wanting to take it, because —

“If — if what you’re saying is true... I’d have to give up my life here,”

“It’s all based on lies,” he insists.

“It’s real,” she protests, “and it’s pretty good! I have Henry, a job — a guy I love!”

His face falls, and he looks down at the grown as though he can’t meet her eyes, as though it will give him something to say, give him courage, and “Perhaps there’s a man that you love in the life that you’ve lost,” and Emma —

Stares. He’s talking about himself, she realizes. Knows it in herself, knows it like she knows anything else, although, perhaps that’s the wrong analogy now that he’s turned her life upside down in the span of a day.

“Regardless,” he plows on, as though he hadn’t really meant to reveal so much, like he’s trying to cover up his vulnerabilities, cover up the heart he hadn’t meant to open up to her, “if you wanna find the truth, drink up. Do you really want to live a life of lies? You know this isn’t right, trust your gut, Swan, it will tell you what to do,”

“Henry always says that,” she says quietly, staring at him, and he stares back, open, honest, earnest, and she thinks that maybe her resolve has crumbled.

“Then if you won’t listen to me, listen to your boy,”

Emma has no reasons left, not when he clearly means well, not when all her instincts are saying he can be trusted, that she can take a leap of faith with him, not when he’s looking at her like that, not when both he and Henry trust her to trust herself, when he had — intentionally or not — revealed himself to her with a man that you love in the life that you’ve lost.

So she takes the vial and drinks and —

She remembers, remembers lighting a candle on a cupcake, remembers Henry smiling at her on her doorstep, remembers Storybrooke, the clocktower moving, the dragon she fought when she finally believed, remembers Henry, cold and pale and lifeless until he woke with a kiss, remembers her parents, Neal, shot, falling through the portal, remembers Hook, the way he had looked at her at Echo Caves, remembers saying goodbye, remembers leaving —

She hadn’t even realized she had closed her eyes until she opens them, sees Hook watching her, anxious, worried, and oh, “Hook,” she breathes out, and he lights up at her, smiles like everything is okay, alright.

“Did you miss me?” he grins, and Emma wonders if it’s possible to have missed something she never even knew she had lost, but she remembers now, remembers the drinks they shared, the moments they had alone, the words and promises given, remembers the times she had wondered why she suddenly had a taste for rum, had a strange sense of melancholy whenever she took Henry to the seaside, knows now that yes some part of her had missed him even when she didn’t know she had lost h—

(He is not hers to lose, she reminds herself.)

(But she also remembers ‘until I met you’, remembers ‘when I win your heart’, remembers ‘not a day will go by’, and she simply knows, knows from the way he looks at her now that he had kept that promise, and she thinks, somewhere deep, deep down, that he just might disagree with that.

She wonders at how she is more scared at the fact she isn’t as scared at that as she should be.)

Later they are sat at her apartment, and she sets down two glasses and a bottle of rum as he recounts what happened after their return to the Enchanted Forest, recounts his return to piracy, and “Glad to see you haven’t changed,” she quips, because her mind is still reeling, the sudden simplicity and comfort of her life the past year twisted upside down, the sinking feeling that her memories of holding Henry as a baby, of changing her mind, of taking care of him and raising him are just stories, and nothing feels real anymore, nothing feels right, and if just one thing, just one person could still be the same, that would be very much appreciated.

But Hook only picks up his glass, “There wasn’t anything for me in the Enchanted Forest,” he says simply, “Why would I stay?”

And Emma has nothing she can think of saying, but she wants to say something, because again, he’s talking about her, knows he is, even if he never says the words, thinks (hopes) he hadn’t just disappeared off all on his own, thinks maybe he doesn’t do all that well on his own, thinks of the centuries he had spent on revenge for his first love, thinks of the promise he had made her in Neverland and at the town line, and thinks just maybe —

She opens her mouth, but before she can scrounge up something to say, he tilts his glass for a toast, and she falters, tapping her own glass to his. “And all was well,” he continues, leaning back in his seat, “until I got a message, a message saying there was a new curse, and everyone had been returned to Storybrooke, the message told me that the only hope — was you,”

“You came all the way back here to save my family?” she doesn’t mean for it to sound so doubting, but once again, there was absolutely nothing in it for him, he clearly hadn’t even been caught up in the curse, hadn’t even been with any of them for a year, yet he had gone to pains to track her down in New York, gone to pains to keep trying to convince her to trust him, no matter how long it had taken, how many times she called him crazy, or had slammed the door in his face, or left him to prison.

I came back to save you, is said plainly, so matter of factly that it nearly sounded flat, and Emma doesn’t know what to say to that, because again, he isn’t expecting praise or gratitude, isn’t saying it for anything other than to keep honest with her, because he had again, come back for her, because even back in Neverland he never kept his feelings a secret from her and she can’t even bring herself to return the favor, because he isn’t even expecting her to return the favor, and just how had he managed to find her, get to her?

So instead, she asks him who could’ve done this, but he knows just about as much as she does, alas, you’re the Savior, not me, and he downs the rest of his rum, but Emma can’t help but laugh, because, “You know what I was yesterday? A mother. Until you showed up and started poking holes into everything I thought was real. Drinking that potion was like waking up from a dream — a really good dream,”

She wonders at how easy it is to confide this to him.

“Well you have what matters most — your son,”

“Now I have to figure out how to explain this to him,”

Hook looks apologetic, “Alas, I could only scavenge together enough for one dose of memory potion,”

“I’d better start figuring out what I’m gonna tell him,” she replied quietly, and dammit how the hell had her life just gotten so much harder, so much more complicated in a single day? She has no idea what to even say to Henry, how to make this not sound absolutely insane, and —

The door buzzes, and Hook asks who it is, but oh shit how had she forgotten about Walsh? Henry invited him, she explains, and Hook turns, offers to get rid of him, but her life may not have been real, her memories all jumbled up and twisted and messy right now, but whatever lives she and Henry had made this past year was real, the eight months she spent with Walsh was real, and I owe him an explanation, even if she doesn’t know what that explanation is, or even where to begin.

“What are you going to say to him?” Hook asks, and Emma just feels very tired, just wants to take a damn moment to process everything, take a moment without having to figure out how to explain this insanity to Walsh or Henry, but Hook has been honest to her, and the least she can do is return that honesty.

“I don’t know. But I care about him too much to drag him into all this. Wait here,” she requests.

But turns out she hadn’t needed to think of something to say to Walsh, because Walsh is a fucking flying monkey and Walsh had just tried to kill her, because of course. Why had she even thought that having some semblance of a normal life would be possible for her?

Hook comes bursting through the door to the rooftop, calling out to her in worry, because of course he did, what the blazes was that, but Emma just feels the betrayal, the grief, rage, bitterness swelling up, and maybe the stress of the whole day is getting to her, because again, she just answers him honestly, “A reminder. That I was never safe, that what I wanted — what I thought I could have was not in the cards for the Savior,”

The way he looks at her just makes her feel a bit worse, like he knows exactly what she’s referring to, like he wants to disagree but wouldn’t know if he would be overstepping, like he wants to say something but doesn’t know what, but she’s exhausted, drained from the day, from finding out her life is a lie, from Walsh, so she pushes past him, “We leave in the morning.”

(The next morning Hook pounds on the door, she lets him saunter in and he greets her with a wide grin, looks amused at Henry asking if he skipped bail, looks offended at the slight against his clothes, and she calls him Killian for the first time, it’s strange how right it feels to use his name, no matter how wrong it feels lying to Henry, and she reaches for her red leather jacket, reaches for her armor, because she needs it after Walsh, after how her life turned out to be wrong, after how easy it was to confide in Hook.)

(Somehow, she feels that not even her armor can help her much when it comes to Hook.)

12.

“You’ll look for any excuse to use that thing, won’t you?” Emma doesn’t bother hiding her amusement as Hook shakes at the berries with his — well, hook.

“At least we know we’re in the right place, what now?”

“Now we start searching.”

“You know something, Swan,” he starts lightly, “whenever you’re around, I inevitably find myself trekking through some manner of woods or forest courting danger,” he drawls.

“And here I thought you weren’t afraid of anything, always looking for the next adventure,”

“Oh, is that what this is?” he questions her.

“Isn’t it? The hell were you doing for the last year alone on that ship? I’m guessing it was one swashbuckling tale after another. Until you decided to come back and save me,”

She isn’t being fair to him, she knows. But something happened to him in the past year, something has that melancholy constantly in his eyes shining even stronger, something he’s hiding from her, and Walsh is still fresh in her mind, just one more person she had opened her heart to, only to have been hiding something, only to have been lying, just one more person she hadn’t expected the worst from, only to turn around and betray her, and the bitterness at the memory is just rising, frustration from everything going on building, and she still doesn’t know why he came for her.

She isn’t being fair to him, Emma smiles bitterly, because Hook may not be lying, but he’s certainly hiding something from her, and she’s incredibly tired of people not being who they say they are, and fuck she’s stressed and frustrated, frustrated from Walsh, from the lack of answers, from the new curse, her false memories, lying to Henry, and Killian is right there.

“Exactly,” he answers her shortly, and Emma thinks this is the first time he’s really lied to her since they met, and her frustration grows. She isn’t being fair to him but she’s too frustrated to care right now, you’re lying, she turns, confronts him, and Hook’s eyes go flat. “Excuse me?”

“What happened back there, what aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing,” he says cooly, “It’s my tale and I’m sticking to it,” but I still don’t believe you, and she’s only half aware of why she’s still pushing it, still desperately wants answers, wants to know what was so bad that he’s lying to her, wants to know what he’s been doing, how far he had to go to find her, why he went through all that trouble to return her memories, return her to Storybrooke, why he came for her at all, because as much as she wants to trust him, as much as she already trusts him, experience has taught her there has to be more.

But he’s not budging, he’s standing tense, he sounds frustrated as well, “Let’s just leave it at that and you can just say thank you,”

“For my memories? I already did,” and then he mentions Walsh, calls it a would-be loveless marriage, and that — that wasn’t — is that — “Is that what you think you’re doing?” because as good at Hook is at making her feel good, feel at ease, he’s equally good at pushing, getting her on the defensive (just as she knows she is equally good at doing the same to him).

“He was a flying monkey,”

“I didn’t know that,”

“Were you considering it? His proposal?” he asks quietly, and why is he — does it matter, because she really doesn’t want to get into this with anyone, with him, “Humor me,” and Emma kind of wants to laugh at the situation, two people who can read each other ridiculously well, keeping their secrets close to their chest, pushing for answers, but neither willing to budge. But as frustratingly as ever, as much as she wants to shove him away, wants to keep her own feelings, own thoughts in check, he is frustratingly good at pushing her, pushing her buttons, frustratingly easy to speak to.

“Yes, okay,” she snaps, “I was in love, so of course I was considering it. But as usual, he wasn’t who he said he was, and I got my heart broken, that enough humor for you?”

Because the lies, the betrayal is still raw, because she had lived a damn good life in New York, with her son and a guy she had loved, because Hook had shown up on her doorstep and woke her up from that life, because now, once again, she’s been burned by love, betrayed by someone she trusted, because Hook is frustratingly good at bringing out all sorts of feelings she’d much rather keep locked away, because she had started pushing him for answers and in the end, she was the one spilling her secrets, and now she’s even more upset and frustrated than when they had started speaking.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m glad to hear that,” he says instead, and what? Is there any right way to take that? But because it’s Killian, she knows he means what he says, and she has already let him see past her walls, showed him a piece of her heart, so she gives him the benefit of the doubt, you’re glad to hear I had my heart broken, because she wants to know —

And he’s taking a step closer to her, “If it can be broken,” and her sharp intake of breath was completely involuntary, because he’s so close, he hasn’t been this close since their kiss, and the way he looks at her — “It means it still works,”

She had wanted answers from him, but he’s answering the wrong questions. She doesn’t need her superpower to tell he’s sincere, not with the way he’s looking at her, like he’s speaking from experience, like it’s a lesson he had recently learned (like it’s a lesson she had been the one to teach him), but she has nothing she can say, nothing she wants to say, not when he’s still hiding something, not with Walsh still fresh in her memory, in her heart, not with this damn new curse, and goddamn everything, not now.

Not when, as much as she trusts him already, trusts him to have her back, to be around Henry, she can’t trust him with her heart.

So she does what she does best and runs. (She can hear it takes him several moments to follow, wonders what he was thinking, wonders why she cares about what he thinks.)

13.

Her magic swells, and she can feel the hot cocoa in front of her disappear, shift, reappear over to the booth Killian sits in, on top of the book he’s reading, and the success has her slamming her hand down the counter in delight, “Boom! Granny’s to-go. I should open a franchise,” she sings out, because she feels great, and it’s always so easy to be with Hook, and even just thinking about him makes her think of what he did for her, for Henry, for Ariel, and she feels good, dammit.

“It’s impressive,” he offers, and what, that’s it? She settles into her seat across from him, and she wants him to look impressed, sound more impressed, but he’s been looking drawn and exhausted since he helped Ariel, and she wants him to smile at her, laugh with her, tease her, wants him lighten up, to open up about whatever is bothering him.

“Wanna see something really impressive?” she asks him, pleased smile spreading as she looks at him, and he only sighs, looking back, and nope, that isn’t lightening up, so she waves her hand, feels the surge of magic, and hears the clink of his hook falling onto the coat rack. The continued success has her giggling (god, giggling, what the hell does being in his presence do to her?).

She wants him to laugh, to smile, to make some snarky comment or casual praise, or tease her, wants to help remove whatever cloud has been settling on his shoulders, whatever it was that had him distant, closed off.

Instead, he scowls, getting up to retrieve his hook, that’s bad form, Swan, tampering with a man’s hook, and if she hadn’t already been worried for him before, she certainly would be now. “Okay, seriously, what is up with you?” she keeps her tone light, because maybe she’s reading too much into it, but she’s still curious, worried for him.

“I apologize for my rudeness,” he sighs, getting back to his seat, “It’s a long story, too long for now,” and he takes a swig from his flask, and clearly she wasn’t reading too much into it, but now she is properly worried for her best friend.

Oh god.

Emma had to stop and take a moment as it occurred to her. Because somehow, somewhere along the way, between Neverland and New York and the Wicked Witch of the West, Killian Jones, Captain Hook, had become her best friend — her confidant.

Because in this completely fucked up town filled with fairy tales, where her parents are Snow White and Prince Charming, and she’s after the Wicked Witch with her friends Belle, and the Evil Queen, and — yes, Captain Hook — for as long as she’s known him, even with his flowery language and pirate regalia and cluelessness to modern conveniences, he’s always felt the realest person around, both of them equally cynical and sarcastic, both burned by the world, both had to learn to fend for themselves early on.

How was this her life.

But regardless, something serious is bothering him, and she has confided in him many times before, back in Neverland, in New York, about Neal, about Walsh, about her doubts, her frustrations, and for once she wants to be able to return the favor, “Okay,” she starts slowly, “obviously, something’s —“

But then Belle slams the door to the Diner open, stumbling in with a great, old, massive book, calling out to her and dropping the book on the table hastily. “Zelena’s plan,” and she must’ve been running to them because she’s still panting, “I figured out what she’s doing,” and suddenly Emma has more to worry about than how Killian had managed to secure his spot as her best friend, has to take a rain check on figuring out what was wrong with him, has to push her worries aside for now.

(They may not be in the forefront of her mind, but it certainly resurfaces every time her eyes fall on him, sees the shadows in his eyes, sees the way he looks like he’s holding the weight of the world on his shoulders, sees the way he has no patience for just about anything, the way his quips are born more often from frustration than attempts at humor, and the way she doesn’t know how to help.)

14.

“I never should have brought Henry back to Storybrooke,” Emma tells Hook, because no matter how pissed of she is with him at the moment, he’s still the easiest person to talk to.

“You did what you felt was right,”

“I did what you manipulated me into,” and yeah, she isn’t being all that fair to him, knows she’s not being rational, knows it was very much her own choice, but she’s still so angry, still lashing out at him, because he lied to her, put Henry in danger, and she cursed me, and had broken her trust, and he’s talking about her parents and the town needing her, but “Henry, also needed me. We were happy in New York, and when I’m done melting this witch, I’d like us to be happy again.”

“You know, as content as you were in that city, it wasn’t real,”

“It was real for me,” she denies, “For him, everything that happened, happened,” but, as always, Hook isn’t afraid to keep pushing her, even when she’s already furious with him, when he knows she’s angry, and like it or not, a big part of you and Henry belongs in this town, but Henry had nearly died today, Neal had died in her arms, Zelena’s after her unborn sibling, Killian himself had been cursed, been turned into a weapon against her, turned into an attempt at taking her magic.

“What does the boy think?”

“He’s a kid! He wants chocolate milk in his cereal, I’m his mother, I know what’s best for him.”

“What’s best for him?” he asks, slowing his walk to face her properly, to urge her to a stop as well, and he looks rather unimpressed by any of her arguments, “or for you?”

“Excuse me?” she scoffs, pushing past him.

“You’ve taken care of the boy quite well here,” he points out, catching up to her “you talk about danger all you like, but it isn’t that. So tell me, what is it? Why are you so scared of staying? I think it’s because you can see a future here — a happy one,”

She does not want to get into this with him, doesn’t want to consider just how right he might be, doesn’t want to look any deeper for why she wants to run back to New York, so she reaches for the nearest thing she can to push him away, “Let me guess — with you?”

It hits the mark, and before Emma can even start to feel guilty at the look on his face, the look she put there, Zelena interrupts, drawling sarcastically, and Emma has no patience for her, the weeks of frustration that had been building in her, the fear for Henry, for her parents, for her sibling, the anger for Neal and Hook —

“Next time you try taking my power, why don’t yo try enchanting the lips of someone I’ll actually kiss,” she snaps at her.

“See, Emma, you’ve got a decision to make,” and Emma’s just getting more annoyed by the tone of her voice, “You can keep your magic, which makes you oh-so-sad, or you can save the man that you can’t wait to run away from,”

She barely even has time to register Zelena’s words, to question her, before Gold sends Hook flying and into a water-filled well, holding him in place, and —

Her heart leaps into her throat, any anger she had been holding on for him rapidly fading in the face of him being in danger, and she’s running for him, grasping at his shoulders, pulling and pulling, but he doesn’t budge, he’s trapped and drowning and he’s struggling, struggling, and Killian is the one drowning but Emma can’t breathe, because his fight is fading, he’s falling limp and —

“Try all you like,” Zelena calls out to her, and Emma snaps out of it, turning to her, “you can’t free him,” and Emma thinks the coldness of her voice might just be worse than the mocking, because she’s staring down at them impassively, only the faintest smirk on her face, but Killian is still underwater, and she disappears in a cloud of green, and only then does she finally, finally, pull him free.

The relief is short-lived.

She’s calling out his name, but he’s just lying there, and he’s not responding, not breathing, she’s calling his name but he still won’t wake up and he can’t die, she couldn’t handle it, Hook, wake up, she thinks of Graham, thinks of Neal, and she couldn’t bear to lose one more person she cares for, and Killian, come back to me, she doesn’t even care if she’s begging, because he’s too still, he shouldn’t be this still —

Not this man who’s always so animated, who speaks thousands of words with just a look, who wears his heart on his sleeve, who feels and shows his emotions with all his whole being, who’s constantly emphasizing his words with hand gestures or his stupidly animated eyebrows, or his deep blue eyes, who’s smile and humor always manages to brighten her own mood, who had come back for her, who keeps coming back for her.

She can’t lose him.

She has nothing to help him with, but he’s still lying in front of her, Hook, she tries again, but there’s nothing around, and she’s out of options, but they still need her magic to stop Zelena, but Killian is dying, and she thinks the last time she felt this all-consuming fear was when Henry had been cold and limp and breathless, under the sleeping curse, and when he had given his heart to Pan.

She can’t lose him.

But without her magic, they’ll be out of options, out of weapons.

See, Emma, you’ve got a decision to make.

She can’t lose him, magic be damned.

Son of a bitch, she mutters, before pinching Killian’s nose shut to give him CPR.

(As if there’s any decision to be made.)

She feels her magic drain, feels the wrongness of it, but Emma pulls back, and he’s still not breathing, and she’s starting to get desperate and she’s cradling his face, and, Hook, come back to me, she whispers, she pleads —

And then he’s twisting, coughing out water, and Emma thinks maybe she could cry from the relief, she certainly feels herself slump over a bit, and her hand comes up to cradle the back of his head just before it slams back on the ground, and he’s saying her name, and it’s shaky, it’s weak, still just a bit waterlogged, but Emma can’t remember the last time she felt so relieved, so happy to hear someone just say her name, but Hook’s hand comes up to his lips and —

“What did you do?” he asks roughly, “What did you do?” because of course he cares more about her magic than his own life, because he’s so ridiculously selfless despite what he pretends, because she had been furious at him just minutes before, had told him she couldn’t trust him anymore, didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt, because she keeps pushing him away, keeps running from him even when he’s the easiest person to talk to, confide in — maybe because he’s the easiest person to talk to.

But she won’t take this from him, not now, not when she had nearly lost him, not when she can’t bear to lose anyone else she cares for, not when all she could think of when he lay limp and lifeless was how much he means to her, his smiles and jokes and sarcasm and cynicism and even his damn broodiness, how much she couldn’t stomach the idea of losing him, losing what he is to her, even if she doesn’t know what that is yet.

Right now, right this moment, all that matters to her is that Killian is still alive, that Killian is breathing, and she’ll bask in this for now.

15.

David’s calling her.

She should answer, but she can’t think of anything to say to him, doesn’t particularly want to talk to him about this, doesn’t want to try to get him to understand. You’re making a mistake, Hook calls out, because of course he’d be the one to come after her, to follow her, and if she didn’t to speak to David about this, she definitely doesn’t want to speak to Hook, who’s far too good at knowing how to push her.

“Don’t listen to me, listen to your son,” he says, undeterred, slowing only once he’s reached her, “he thought this,” and he pulls out the stupid, goddamn storybook out of his satchel, holding it out to her, “might remind you of what you’re leaving behind — your family.”

“Henry is my family, and I am taking him where he is safe.”

“No, Swan, safety first nonsense is just that. You defeated the bloody Wicked Witch, you defeated Pan, you broke the curse — but you keep running. What are you looking for?”

Because he always seems to know that there’s more, always manages to read her fears, and really, there isn’t much point in lying to him, either, so she answers quietly, home, hopes he’ll leave it at that. Except he never does. “And that’s in New York?” he questions doubtfully. “That wasn’t real,”

Except the last year, the last year when she had some semblance of a normal life, with her son and a job (a guy she loves), and yeah, they were fake memories, but she and Henry can go back and make new memories, make it real, make it feel like home, but Hook shakes his head, “Why can’t you do that here, with your entire family?”

And her eyes fall to the storybook he’s still holding out to her, and she’s reminded, again, of the story her parents were telling her new brother, some ridiculous first meeting with a robbery, and ogres, and knights, of magic and True Love, and Emma?

Emma is no fairytale story, no outlandish adventures, no balls and gowns and crowns and ruling kingdoms — just foster home after foster home, either unwanted by the family or she herself making the decision to leave, to run. She was just a bailbonds person with a criminal record and a son from a teenage pregnancy, and she may have magic, may be from True Love, or whatever else fairytale story she hears, but that’s all they are — stories — and she snatches the book from his hands impulsively, “Because of this! I don’t see my family here, I see... fairytales, I see stories of princes and princesses and — that’s not me. I was never a part of any of this,”

Because Emma feels that if anyone can understand her, it is Hook. “Then what are you a part of, Swan?” he asks gently, because her instincts about him are rarely wrong, and she realizes, suddenly just how swapped their positions are now from the year before, when she told him he could become a part of something rather than going off and being alone.

He had done it, had helped them rescue Henry from Neverland, had found her and returned her memories, brought her to her parents, stood and helped and fought at her side, and is now — one of the heroes. And now he sits with her, asks if she is a part of something, if she would rather try and be a part of something or go off and do what she does best. “Besides being with Henry, I don’t think I’ve ever been a part of anything,” she answers him honestly.

“But you could be,” Killian finally moves to sit beside her.

Emma sighs, shutting the book, turning to face him properly. “Look, when I was a kid, I ran away, it’s just what I did,” she would get no judgement from him, she knows this, “The first time I did it, I had the same exact thought. I wondered, what if I’m making a mistake, what if I miss this place?”

“And did you?”

“Not the first time. Not any time.”

“So you just keep running,” and Emma can’t quite figure out what’s in his voice, but she has never found a home, never found a place she missed when leaving, and home is the place, when you leave, you just miss it, and she couldn’t miss what she never even remembered she had, couldn’t miss her parents or Storybrooke or Hook, not the past year, couldn’t remember if she ever, truly regretted running from some place, something, someone, and really, she doesn’t even miss New York, only the vague idea of a normal life, and until she feels that? She’ll just keep moving, keep running, keep her walls high up, keep doing what she does best, keeps being alone.

“So you’re just going to leave your parents then? Don’t you even care about them? Or anyone in this town?”

He’s not talking about the town. Emma knows this as well as she knows he had been talking about himself in New York, perhaps there’s a man that you love, but does he really not know? She still remembers him cold and lifeless, not waking up no matter how hard she shakes him, how loud she calls his name, still remembers the cold terror that she might lose him, remembers all the drinks they shared, the times he was her first thought when looking for someone to take care of Henry, remembers him sitting across from her in an empty diner, the weight of his curse leaving him distant, snappish, and all she had wanted was to hear him tease her again.

She thinks sometimes he is the only one she wants to talk to, thinks he might be the only one she feels comfortable telling all of this to, thinks she’s —

She’s leaving, but she doesn’t want him to doubt, “Of course I care. I just have to do what’s right for me, and Henry, and —”

There’s a great, glowing beacon reaching up to the sky, and she’s up and heading towards it before she even registers getting up from the bench, and, again, Hook is up and calling after her, chasing her.

16.

“You might not be able to move, Swan,” Hook starts, sounding mildly amused, “but you cut quite the figure in that dress.”

Emma can’t stop the pleased grin spreading on her face. You’re not so bad yourself, pirate, she thinks delightedly, but before she can speak, Midas approaches and greets them, who do I have the honor to welcome into my home, and oh shit, they hadn’t discussed aliases, and Hook is being absolutely no help, “Charles, Prince Charles,” she interrupts his stammering, “And I am Princess... Leia.”

Henry would be so proud, she thinks as she curtsies. They move in, and she’s been told so many stories, but now she’s living it, thinks of all the time Mary Margaret and David mention this or that ball and, “What’s the big deal about these things?” she asks Killian, but he doesn’t answer.

He doesn’t have to, after all, and Emma stares at the people mulling about in lavish clothes and sharing food and socializing, and stares at the center of it all, where people have paired up, dancing smoothly to the music, and it really is as fairytale as it sounded.

“You were saying?” he whispers teasingly, and only then does Emma realize she’s gaping, and all these princes and princesses, dancing with one another in unfamiliar movements — what am I supposed to do?

But Hook is taking her hand gently, slowly tugging her into the crowd, and he’s got a look on his face that Emma doesn’t want to name, smiling at her delightedly, blend in, and for a pirate, he doesn’t look remotely out of place, looks completely at ease with the situation, and hang on, wait, so many things could go wrong, she doesn’t know how to dance, and, “Wait, are you saying you know how to do — whatever this is?”

“It’s called a waltz,” he says cooly, settling one of her hands on her shoulder, moving the other to his false hand, and “There’s only one rule,” he continued, gently resting his hand on her waist, and he’s so close to her, their eyes meet, and and he’s completely open to her, another one of those moments when he’s completely dropping his pirate persona, the flirtatious bravado, letting her see that gentleman beneath, and he’s staring at her like he’s —

“Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing,” he grins and starts to move, and it isn’t difficult at all to follow his lead, because they make a great team, they always have, and that partnership had always carried over, whether it was knocking out giants, or getting around Neverland, or fighting Zelena, or even in quieter moments, when they are alone, when they have a conversation with a single look, or their easy banter, or, apparently — dancing the waltz.

He’s grinning at her like he just can’t help himself, and she’s smiling back because she just can’t help herself, and with Hook it’s so easy, and once again, she is so unspeakably glad that he is here with her, that she wasn’t alone falling through the portal, that he is the one who somehow managed to be by her side through this. She still doesn’t know if he had fallen in like she had, or if had simply followed her, because he always follows her, and she can’t think of anyone else she’d rather have by her side right now.

(she thinks she’s falling in —)

“Watch the mocking, I’m actually getting the hang of this,” she whispers to him, because there can’t be any other reason for why he’s looking at her like she’s the greatest thing he has ever seen.

“I’m not mocking you, Swan, I was just thinking about what you said in Storybrooke, about not being a princess,”

“Really,” she nearly laughs, “You get my first dance at my first royal ball, and all you can say is ‘I told you so?’”

“I believe what I’m trying to say, your Highness,” he corrects her, “is that you appear to be a natural,” she spies her father across the room before she can respond, and they quickly look away before anyone can notice them staring, and it isn’t all that hard to pretend to focus on Killian’s face, because she doesn’t have to pretend at all.

They dance, and Emma is helpless to grin back when Killian is looking at her like that, and Emma thinks the feeling of his hand on her waist feels right, and he feels good standing this close, and they are good together, they always have been, and Emma thinks that right this moment, the world consists only of the two of them, because she thinks she’s already halfway in —

17.

“But you can,” Killian insist, “All he said we need is magic, you’re the Savior, Swan, you can do it,”

“Not anymore, I lost it,” she reminds him, because she still can’t really feel it, can’t reach her magic, no matter how much she tries.

“When Zelena dies, all of her spells were undone, your powers should’ve been restored,”

“Believe me,” she snaps, “If I could make it work, I would, you think I’m faking it?”

And clearly he isn’t interested in holding back his opinions much longer, “I think not having magic makes it a hell of a lot easier for you to run back to New York and pretend to be somebody else,” and Emma thinks this is the first time he really gave her his own opinions on her leaving, gave her his true thoughts, told flatly and matter of factly, rather than just a vague disapproval and gentle persuasions to change her mind.

“But listen to me, Swan. You’re not. It’s time to stop running.”

Except Emma already knows this, has finally accepted it after one to many blank expressions, her parents looking at her, but not seeing her, of Ruby giving nothing more than polite conversations, of Blue’s knowing looks, and even the way Killian’s past self had looked right through her, missing all of their shared moments and connection, just another warm body to take to bed for the night.

“Yes, I run away, that’s how I’ve always survived, but believe me, I want this to work, I wanna go back. I wanna stop running.”

Almost immediately, Killian softens, “What’s changed your mind?”

And she remembers the way they were all helpless to watch her mom get executed, the way she had panicked, so scared of losing another loved one, remembers the way Killian had pulled her into him, remembers the way all she could do after was replay that single moment over and over until Killian mentioned his brother, until they realized Snow was still alive. She thought of the way she leapt forward to hug her mother but she had simply smiled politely before moving on, thinks of how her father had helped with her escape from Regina’s dungeon but barely gave her more than a curious look, remembers the way Killian had wiped her tears, the way she had watched her father fall in love with her mother, thought of what Mary Margaret had said to her so long ago, back when she had just been her roommate, thought about how she had been so busy trying to keep out pain with her walls, she hadn’t been able to let love through, either.

Not her parents’ love for her, not her own love for them, for her new baby brother, had constantly kept Killian at a distance because of how he made her feel, regardless of how little reason she has to not trust him, regardless of how much she feels she could someday return his feelings (especially because she feels she’s already on her way to returning them).

“I had saved and lost her, too. And that’s what I’ve been doing to her since I met her. It’s gotta stop,” Killian is only watching her patiently, encouragingly, and it just makes the words tumble out of her mouth, “When Henry brought me to Storybrooke, he told me I was the Savior. I didn’t see what he was really doing. He was not bringing me back to break a curse, he was bringing me home.”

And she misses it. Misses the loft, misses the diner, the clocktower and library, misses the docks and the forests, and her parents and her brother, and Henry, misses the grilled cheese and onion rings, misses the cocoa with cinnamon, the coffee at the sheriff’s station, misses the feel of magic and Leroy’s screaming about danger, misses it all, and Neal was right, because she feels at home in Storybrooke, at home with Henry and her parents and her brother and she wants to go home, because “Being with my parents these last few days but not really being with them — I’ve never missed them more.”

She’s ready to accept it now. “Storybrooke — it’s my home,”

But Killian is smiling down at her, knowing and proud, and she doesn't know why he’s smiling, but it’s Killian and she can’t help but return his smile. “What?”

“Look down,” is all he says, still looking entirely to proud and pleased and smug, and the wand is working, and she’s just staring, looking back at him to see if it really is, if she really does — “I’d say you’ve got your magic back,” he says simply. “Now, shall we go?”

18.

Emma’s home. Emma’s home, and she’s called her parents mom and dad and Henry is delighted by the fact that they're staying now, and she is too, except —

Except something isn’t right, something is missing, someone is missing, and she has told the story of her fairytale adventure, has shared her success to he mom and her dad and Henry, and even her baby brother but —

But Killian, who had been by her side throughout it all, who was the only piece of home she had left as they were trapped in the past, Killian who had taken her to Rumplestiltskin, helped plan Snow stealing the ring, who had taken her hand and led her to the dance floor, who had opened himself to her as they danced her first dance at her first royal ball — Killian who had pulled her close when she thought her mother was about to die, who comforted her and wiped her tears, who she is halfway —

He is not at her side now. She misses him.

He isn’t even in the diner. She finds him alone outside, and her heart aches at the lonely picture he paints, playing with his flask.

She does not want him to be alone.

“So,” she starts lightly, taking the seat closest to him, “do you think Rumplestiltskin is right? I’m in the Book now. He said everything besides our little adventure would go back to normal. Do you think that it is?” She does not even know why she’s asking this, just knows she doesn't want him to sit alone.

“He’s right,” he says, “Otherwise I’d remember that damn bar wench I kissed.” he eyes her slightly, and Emma has to laugh, how would that prove anything, because Hook had looked right through her as well, does not look at her like Killian does, like he’s in —

But Killian just smirks at her, looking unfairly attractive as he reminds her, “I know how you kiss. I’d have gone after her. But I didn’t, my life went on exactly the same as before.”

“Must’ve been the rum,” she murmurs, because he isn’t lying.

“Everything’s back to normal. You’re a bloody hero, Swan,”

“So are you,” she reminds him, because sometimes it seems he needs the reminding, and he only chuckles, only looks away, but Emma won’t let him dismiss it that easy, not when he has done so much for her and for her family, not when he had brought her back from New York, “I wanted to thank you, Killian.”

He looks up, meets her eyes, and he looks so confused, as if she has no reason to thank him, and it just makes her want to push this further, regardless of the more dangerous territories the conversation might head towards. “For going back for me in the first place in New York. If you hadn’t —“

“It was the right thing to do,” is all he says, and Emma — Emma has wondered, for so long how, how he found her, how he tracked her down, for he crossed realms to find her, to save her, to bring her home. She’s been dancing around the question for so long. “How did you do it? How did you get to me?”

(Emma doesn't even know if she’s talking about New York or her heart.)

“Well, the curse was coming. I ditched my crew and took the Jolly Roger as fast and as far as I possibly could to outrun it.” he says it like it’s nothing, you outran a curse, but she should really stop being so surprised by him, “I’m a hell of a captain,” he laughs, and continues, “And once I was outside the curse’s purview, I knew that the walls were down, transport between worlds was possible again... all I needed was a magic bean,”

“Those are not easy to come by,” he shifts, then, looks away from her, looks uncertain and melancholic and suddenly, Emma feels that she is missing something major, and Killian looks like he doesn’t want her to press anymore, but —

“They are if you’ve got something of... value to trade.”

“And what was that?” she asks lightly. How many doubloons or jewels or gold and treasure —

“Why the Jolly Roger, of course.” he says as if it’s obvious, as if it’s something anyone would do, as if it was just another object, another piece of jewelry, like it wasn’t possibly one of the biggest sacrifices he could make, and Emma —

Stares.

Stunned.

Because he’s plastered on a forced smile, kept his tone light, because he’s trying to shrug it off like it’s nothing, trying to keep his bravado up, as if it’s —

Maybe she heard wrong, you traded your ship for me, but he only drops the act, and he’s staring at her, honest, “Aye.” and she knows, knows what this means to him, to her, knows he’s giving her his heart to keep or break, knows he likely wouldn’t care either way, because he came back for her, took her to Neverland, helped save her father’s life, helped save Henry’s life, and he bore his heart to her for the first time on the beanstalk, and again under the decks of his ship, in Neverland, at the town line, in New York, in the forests of Storybrooke, in the past, knows she has had his heart for so long now, and she knows he wouldn’t break her heart because he is who he says he is.

Because he’s saying it not to gain favor but simply because she had asked and he didn't want to lie. Because she thinks she might already be halfway in love with Killian Jones. Because she’s tired of denying that she couldn't bear to lose him in her life.

So she kisses him, and he doesn’t even move until her lips are pressed to his, letting her take the lead and they are kissing for the first real time, because Neverland was passion and attraction and heat of the moment, but now, now doesn't kiss him for his ship, or as thanks or for some diversion tactic, she kisses him because she can’t bear not to, because as much as she had buried away her weaknesses, as much as she put up mile high walls around her heart, he sees right through them, and waits patiently for the ones he can’t get past, and she wants to let him in.

They stop for a breath and she smiles at him, because it’s perfect, and he smiles in return, and this time he is the one leaning in, and Emma’s letting down her walls to love her family, to love her home, to someday, maybe, love Killian, and she’s letting down her walls to be loved in return, and she has never felt more safe, has never felt more at peace.

She thinks she’s finally ready to take that chance and let him in.

#ouat #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #cs ff #my fanfic #j’s stuffs #a map and a shovel (to my achilles’ heel) #title from Sleeping At Last’s ‘Eight’ #this is basically analysis headcanons and metas disguised as fic #introspective as hell #vaguely anti neal sentiments expressed in this chapter #but I was writing it as critically as I can #which also means addressing the trauma neal put her through #and her own canon thoughts and feelings regarding neal #regardless of whether or not you think he did it intentionally or not #an irresponsible amount of italics #once again it’s my first time I’d love to know what anyone thinks good or bad hit me #seriously so much italics someone take these away from me

[merci-bitch]

My Sweet Little One part II

Rose The Hat x fem!reader

Warning(s): swearing, slight abuse, PDA? 

Words: 2,5k

A/N: It has been quite a while. Hasn’t it? Haha. Well there might be a part 3 to this. It’s not as long as the first part which is 8k, and I have no idea how to make links so sadly I can’t link it here. ;/ . Hopefully there will more stories coming soon!

I made Y/N mine, alright. And everyone knew it, for sure. The next night she laid in my bed, I made her scream my name until her vocal chords were raw and made sweat crack across her place physiognomy.

No one could have her body the way I do, specially that loathsome rube. But he doesn't matter now.' I told myself. Though I wanted to make him pay. Rip his heart out and eat it on a silver platter after making him after making him suffer. Who the hell does he think he is? Laying his hands on my Y/n. They might both be steamy but he should see me. Oh yes, I am a cathedral compared to his small amount of steam.

"Rosie?" Y/n's voice pulled me out of my self induced trance. "Yes love?" I hummed. "You were zoning off again. Is something the matter?" I loved hearing the sweetness in her voice. It was like music to my ears.

"No darling, I'm quite alright." I smiled and placed my lips against hers and gave her a soft kiss. 'If only she knew though.' I thought to myself but shoved that aside for the moment. I could feel her soft hands gently caressing my bare skin and moved closer to her. Normally I preferred being the big spoon but on this moment, I didn't quite mind. She was home now and has been for quite a few weeks but still, I missed her.

"You're sure?" I nodded and ran my hands through Y/n's hair. "You're so pretty. You know that right?" She nodded and I smirked. "There is no one quite like you." Y/n's cheeks flushed cherry red and I chuckled. "No shame, darling. I only speak the truth."

"I know." She gave me a small smile that made me swell up inside. "Have you thought about my offer?" Y/n let out a sigh and I sat up. "I have but-"

"But what?" I tried my hardest not to sound angry. "When you stabbed me before, you told me it was for steam?" I nodded cordially. "Is that...what you guys eat?"

"Does it matter?" I expected to have her argue with me a little bit but surprisingly she didn't. Which I was thankful for. I took Y/n's hands gently in my own and kissed them. "Look, I know it's hard for you to wrap your head around but their pain is our gain. Don't you want to have a life with me? Unconditional bliss?"

She looked down as she slowly sat up and started fumbling with her hands. I wanted to say things, but I didn't want her to run away again. I didn't want to lose her again. She was mine, and only mine.

—— You don't know what it's like, not knowing who you are. To have lived in the shadows and to have travelled this far. Now I've seen a flashes of fire and echos of screams. But I still have faith, faith that someday my memories will come back.

In my dreams, it's all real. And my heart has so much to reveal. And my dreams seems to say, 'don't be afraid to go on, don't give up hope, come what may.' I know it will all come back! One day!

In my dreams shadows call. There's a light at the end a hall. Then my dreams fade away, but I know it will all come back one day. I just remember, rain against the windows. Sheets upon a bed. Terrifying nurses whispering overhead.

It was all strange. Rose, everyone. They say I was found on the side of the road. It had recently rained. In the darkness and cold with the wind in the trees. A girl with no name, and no memories but these above. I don't know a thing before that. Traveling the back roads, sleeping in the wood. I was always taking what I needed, working when I could. Keeping up my courage, foolish as it seems.

In my dreams I've always dreamed of a city. I dream of a city beyond all compare. Is it Paris? Paris... A beautiful river, a bridge by a scare and I hear a simple voice whisper, 'I'll meet you right there in Paris.' Paris.

Dancing bears, painted wings. Things I almost remember, and a song someone sings. It's almost December. Once upon a December. Someone holds me safe and warm. Horses prance through a silver storm. Figures dancing gracefully and across my memory.

Far away, long ago. Glowing dim as an ember and things my heart used to know and things it yearns to remember. And a song someone used to sing.

Heart don't fail me now and courage don't desert me. Don't turn back now that we're here. People have always said, life is full of choices and they aren't wrong but they never mentioned fear. Or how the world can seem so vast. On a simple journey to the past.

Somewhere down this road. I know someone true is waiting. Years of dreams just can't be wrong! Someone's arms will open wide and I'll be safe and wanted. Finally a place where I belong. Well, starting now I'm learning fast! On my journey to my past.

Home, love and family. There has to be a time where I had them too. I wouldn't be complete until I find you. But always one step at a time. One hope, then another. Who knows where this road may go? I wanna go back to who I was. On to find my future. There are things my heart still needs to know. Yes! Let this be some kind of sign and let this road be mine. Let it lead me to my past, and bring me home. At last!

—

"So, when the fuck was you gonna tell me."

"Hm? Tell you what my dear."

"Cut the sweet act Rose."

"What's wrong with you? Did they tease you again? You want tea?"

"Oh fuck you."

"Watch it."

"Watch it?! You have some fucking nerve Rose."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. The fuck did you think was gonna happen?"

"Seriously, what do you mean Y/N."

"Did you think I was gonna forget your words? Think I was gonna forget how useless and worthless you called me?"

"Y/N, I-"

"Shut it. I know exactly what you said, I'm not stupid or will I ever fall for some cover up you're calling this. I was happy without you!"

"You would never survive without me!"

"I did perfectly well for 10 fucking years Rose!"

"You call that happy?! With that Danny? You call that happy Y/N?"

"He loved me! He took care of me! More then you'd ever done, he took me for what I was. He picked up the pieces you broke."

"You better watch it. I don't mind killing you myself."

"See, this is exactly where you and I are different. I spend years not fitting in but thinking it was fine. Cause you were 'there' and cuddled me. Did you ever really love me? Cause you're blaming me for everything here, when it actually was you who fucked it up."

"I fucked it up?! You were the one who was so fucking ungrateful!"

"Ungrateful?! I have a fucking soul!"

"No, you don't! Cause you fucking sold it to the devil. You're not human. We turned you Y/N!"

"Excuse me what?"

"What?"

"No, don't change subject. What did you say?"

"Nothing."

"Did you fucking turn me without me saying you could?! Rose what the fuck!"

"What, you're mine. Just had to claim you. You'll be fine."

"Fine?! I don't wanna feed of dead kids Rosie!"

"They're actually quite delicious."

"You're fucking sick."

"Didn't stop you from fucking me."

"I didn't really have a choice."

"I didn't fucking rape you."

"Nah, it felt like it."

"You screamed my name out of pleasure."

"How come you were so sure of that?"

"I saw it, I saw your mind."

"What if that was just for play?"

"Oh, fuck you."

"I'd kill you if you tried."

"Oh, sweetheart. I'd like to see you try."

"Come at me."

"You can't be serious."

"Come kill me Rose."

"No."

"Coward."

"You're a bitch. A fucking bitch."

"Yet you put up with me for years. Took me back in when I was vulnerable. Loved me, well. Kind of. You held me close to you. Favorited me. So technically, I was your bitch."

"Exactly. You're my bitch."

"I was, not anymore."

"You'll always be my bitch. You're so weak for me, nothing will change that."

"Rose-"

"Begging already? Hm. Get on your knees."

"What?"

"Now!"

"Never."

"Get on your fucking knees before I make you."

"Make me then."

"You're playing with fire Y/N. I fucking hate you."

"Yeah, yeah. We've all heard that. How about something new?"

Before I knew it, her hand was wrapped around my throat. Holding me up in the air. Not a single piece of happiness or softness in her eyes. It was just dark. Her whole face was filled with anger. The veins in her throat showed as she strained. Her jaw clenched. Her hand squeezing harder around my throat. More and more air was ripped from my throat.

"You'll learn your fucking place. You disgraceful little piece of shit."

Her fingernails started to dig into the skin of my neck and my vision started to blacken out. Clawing at her hand. Choking on whatever air that was left in my lungs.

"R-Rosie-"

"Hm? Can't really hear you, my dear."

Her hand tightened even more and I felt my limbs go lump. Everything going dark.

-

"I don't know Abra. She's been gone for so long. She was missing when I came back from the bathroom at the cinema. You haven't seen anything?"

"No, I've been trying. It's like Rose is cutting her off from us."

"I just hope she's alright. She doesn't deserve all this."

"I know, but we'll find her."

—

"Sweetheart? Hey, wake up."

I felt someone slap my cheek. Groaning in pain, moving my head away. Slowly opening my eyes.

"Rose?"

"Yes, I'm right here."

"What happened?"

"My dear child, you passed out. You had a nightmare from sleeping and got up and started crying. Then you just dropped."

"Really? I don't remember."

"Oh, don't worry. I've got you."

Rose put her arms around me and pulled the covers over us, giving my forehead a kiss. I couldn't put my thought to it. Was that really what happened? I shook my head and snuggles close to Rose. Breathing in her scent. Relaxing. Smiling softly and looking up at her.

"What? What are you smiling about."

"Nothing."

"Come on, I can see there's something."

"I just -"

"Yes?"

"I love you, Rosie."

"I love you too Y/N."

—

"Rose? Is this really how it has to go?"

"Yes, my dear. Now come on. Stab her."

"I-I don't know, it's just a child."

"What have I told you before?"

"I-, their pain, our gain."

"That's it. Now come, feed your family."

Rose's hands were on my waist, her nose brushing against the back of my neck. I slowly raised the knife in the air. Feeling a sort of deja vu. Had I done this before? I couldn't have. Despite the child's cries, pleas and begging Rose was right. Their pain was our gain. I had to do this to feed the family. The true knot was my family.

Muttering a soft 'sorry' before stabbing the child. Stabbing it over and over again. Hearing both Rose's and Crow's laughter behind me. I felt angry for some reason, the child in front of me was the beat for my anger. The piece to take out all the unknown anger. Again and again. Until there was nothing left. Dropping the knife, shaking.

"You did so great, look at all that steam! Well last for weeks! If not even months. Good girl."

Rose gave me a wet kiss and stroked my cheek.

"Rosie?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Have I done this before?"

"What? Stabbing a child?"

"Yeah, I got like a deja vu."

"Well, haven't we all wished to kill children?"

Her carefree laughter filled the air. It didn't make any sense, but it had to.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Don't be so sad now, poppet. You did well."

"It just feels weird. I was a child too once."

"We all were. But now we are adults, we are the true knot. We live as more powerful then pathetic rubes. You said so yourself."

"I did?"

"Right you did."

"Oh, I can't remember much."

Rose stroked my cheek again and pulled me against her. Rubbing my back and watched the moonlight with me. It was silent. Was it nice? Was it confusing? Was it awkward?

"I just, this doesn't feel right."

"What do you mean?"

"It's like I've been walking, but with my face turned to the sun. This weight on my shoulders. And I feel as if I need to run. I do what I can to please you and the others, I just feel like an outsider."

"This is your home, can't you hear freedom calling? Calling you to stay. Don't you feel it in your bones? You belong here."

"In the morning before the sun starts shining, we gotta start moving again, can I drive with you?"

"Always."

—

"So I'm gonna stand up, and take my people with me. Together we are going to our brand new home. Far across the river. Do you hear freedom calling? Calling you to answer their prayer."

"That's what you got?"

"Yes, it was all I could find out."

"It's not really helpful."

"I know, I don't know what's going on. Before it was so easy to track her."

—

"I go to prepare a place for you."

Rose watched you sleep. She knew it wouldn't be long until your memories would come back. Her and Crow had been talking about what to do with you. She didn't want to kill you. She did love you, but if she had to she would kill you. You were steamy but she didn't know if it was that good. She had only tasted it once, but it was only little bit.

It had tasted like flowers. For some reason each time Rose would think about it. She would feel this, this heavy feeling in her chest. She didn't know what it was. It couldn't be guilt, could it? No. Of course not. Rose The Hat never had guilt. She was a strong a confident woman. Powerful. The queen bitch of castle hell.

Rose O'Hara knew guilt, knee pain and specially weakness. Rose The Hat could never dream of getting on her knees for anyone.

If she had to kill the one thing she loved. She fucking would.

#rose the hat x reader #dan torrance x reader #doctor sleep

[ashintheairlikesnow]

I Want It Back

CW: References to negative stimming resulting in self-injury, description of injuries, brief reference to past noncon, trauma response, traumatic memory recovery, internalized guilt, victim-blaming, and ableism, grief, PTSD

Found Out, Akio, Chris Sees, and Tell Me Everything.

“Will you talk to me, today?” They crouch in front of him, their hair limp and badly in need of a wash, settling along the back of their neck, hanging lank over their forehead. They take his hands in theirs, rubbing at the cold, long fingers to warm them, the pale of his skin against their own deep warm brown.

He rocks, forward and back, but he doesn’t look at them. His eyes are focused off to the side, one something they can’t see, something entirely inside his own mind. 

They wait, but nothing changes.

“Okay, so no words, yet.” Laken tries for a smile, soft and loving, but it gets no reaction. “That’s okay, Chris. That’s okay. You don’t have to speak before you’re ready.”

Jake managed to even out his hair, using a tiny pair of scissors from his shaving kit to get everything about the same length, and it’s shorter than Laken has ever seen it, shorter than they ever imagined it would be. Clipped close to his scalp, only the occasional visible hint of the blue they’ve always known him with, the coppery strawberry blond makes him seem even paler, makes his green eyes more intense and saturated, fades out his eyebrows almost entirely. 

He looks alien, here, curled up in the corner of his room at Jake’s house in Jake’s big shirt and loose, long pajama pants. Without his compression shirt his arms and his neck are so bare, so vulnerable. 

Like this - lit dimly in ways that seem to bring out a glimmer from beneath his skin - Chris is an unearthly, almost eerily pretty thing, human only in the barest outline of his form, in the bandages affixed over his forehead, his neck, one on his cheek. The other scratches weren’t deep enough to need covering but they’re still red, darker and bruising, healing so slowly and standing out even more than his freckles.

Laken thinks, with a sickening twist inside of them, that they are seeing what the people who hurt him saw, once. 

A broken, beaten, frightened boy, locked up so he had no way to escape, not even from himself. They are seeing what was molded into whatever he was when he was found. They are seeing what Jake recognizes from back then, and what sets the lines of his face deeper, harsher, with an anger he doesn’t dare express where Chris can see him.

Jake is at some other safehouse right now, talking to someone else, getting all his rage out while Laken, Kauri, and Antoni take turns making sure Chris isn’t going to hurt himself again. It feels strange, surreal, a sort of at-home suicide watch only Chris isn’t trying to do that, he’s just… lost, deep inside himself, in the cycle of crying and screaming and rocking married with long periods of near perfect stillness and silence. 

The light is not total, Antoni had told them earlier, strange and enigmatic, with his own sad soft smile. They cannot truly erase us. We are only pushed beneath our surfaces.

He'll cycle for a while, Kauri had said, and he's easier for them to talk to, really. When it comes back, you either push it back down like I do, or you don't. He's not. So it's… gonna hurt. 

What's going to hurt?

Knowing. Kauri's smile had weakened, then. Knowing that they tore you apart and told you that you wanted it that way. Knowing that it wasn't always like that, and knowing that it didn't ever have to be, except for bad fucking luck.

Laken doesn't understand, not really, but they're here for him, and it's all they know how to do. 

He needs someone to put their hands between his head and the wall, to get his feather into his mouth, get his fingers on the stimming bracelets on his wrist, at last resort to give him a pillow so he can get the motions out without causing himself any physical damage. They can do that.

Laken hasn’t slept in two days, except sometimes dozing on Chris's bed, and Chris hasn’t spoken in that long except to tell them to leave, that he’s too difficult, there’s too much pain in him that Laken didn’t sign up for, and they don’t know how to tell him that they’re not scared of his pain, they’re scared of losing the chance to help him carry it.

He’s barely recognizable as the brightly shining smiling boy they met on their first day at college, but he’s still their Chris, their sunshine, their light and life and love. Going through hard shit is what you do, sometimes, and they can carry him, for a while, but he has to let them.

He has to believe that he deserves their love. 

How do you tell someone they deserve to be loved when their mind is screaming at them, louder than you could ever speak, that they are too broken, too used up, too far gone?

“Baby, I still love you,” They whisper, and lean forward, resting their temple against his. He makes a low, soft sound, wordless, but he leans into the touch. His fingers are slowly warming under theirs. “I do. You can’t make me stop loving you, nothing that happened to you is too much for me to love who you are.”

His feet lift and drop, tap on the ground. His head tilts to one side and then the other, but the hair that he used to like feeling rest against his cheekbones is gone, and there’s nothing to feel. The empty spaces in his ears where his piercings go seem strangely haunting, to Laken, now. 

Places where Chris made himself look how he wanted, removed. The hair he painstakingly dyed, gone. Giving himself back over to whatever is in his head telling him that it’s not his decision to make. 

“I’m sorry it happened this way,” They whisper to him, keeping their voice low. A bird calls outside the window, a plaintive mourning dove, coo-coo, coo, coo. “I am so, so sorry. I know that it’s hurting you, and-”

“Go, go, go away,” He says, voice flat, and their heart cracks open, spills out sadness in a waterfall, but Laken knows what it means to push down grief in their own way. They’ve seen their mother bury her parents with stoic compassion for her children’s grief even while never really showing her own. They don’t let anything out but the same love that’s been written across them from the beginning. 

He's not trying to hurt them. He's trying to hurt himself, first, before anyone else can do it again. 

He rocks, and they shift back to give him even more space for it. Despite his words, though, his hands still hold theirs, tightly, refuse to let go. He’s lying, Laken thinks, and there’s hope there. He's a terrible liar, he doesn't know how to make his body tell the same lies his mouth does.

He doesn’t really want them to go. He can say the words to shove them away but he can’t stop holding on.

“Chris-”

“You, you, you can, there’s-... there’s other people, easier, easier people than, than, than than… than-than-than, than-... silence is better than stammering-”

“No it’s not fucking not, Chris.” Laken’s voice is a firm and certain hiss, and they duck their head, catching his eyes. “It’s not. I’d rather listen to your stammer for the rest of my life than live one more day with you silent when you don’t want to be. Listen to me, okay? Please. Please listen. I don’t care about easier people.” Laken sighs, rubbing his knuckles with their thumbs, but his eyes are moving over their face, more focused than they’ve been since Jake led him out of the bathroom. “Okay? You keep saying that, that I deserve someone easier, but I don’t want anyone easier. I have my shit, too, that I carry everywhere with me.”

“Not, not, not-not like this.” His eyes are so huge, so wide, so very, very green. Glimmering with the tears he can’t stop crying, shimmering wet marks down his face over the scratches he made on himself. Making himself ugly, Jake had explained, but Chris doesn’t look ugly to Laken. 

He just looks like the same beautiful man they love, but drowning.

“No,” Laken admits, pulling his hands to their mouth, kissing lightly at his fingernails, one by one. Some of them cracked and broke while he was scratching himself, and the rough edges pull at Laken’s lips, catch on chapped places. He watches them move, his eyes finally, finally focused on them, for the first time since he saw the video. His fingers twitch, a little, against Laken’s kiss. “Not like that, no. But Chris, what you went through doesn’t make you less, baby. It just makes you stronger for surviving it.”

He shakes his head, but his hands are tightening on theirs again, refusing to let go. It’s a lifeline, a rope they can throw him, something maybe he’ll grab and let them pull him up with. Please let me help you, please want to breathe air, please let us pull you up above the water.

“I-I’ve been… taken so, so, so many times, b-by so many people, handlers, and I-I-... I didn’t, didn���t remember, and I did, but I didn’t, and I do, now, and…” Chris rocks forward one more time, his forehead landing on Laken’s shoulder, and they take the hint to slide their arms around him, hand moving up through the soft shorn hair along the nape of his neck. “I, I, I had a mom, Laken."

Laken has heard bits and pieces from Jake, now - heard what Ben has found in his own searching and his conversation with the Akio guy and his mom - but they hold still, and they’re quiet, letting his hands move over them, the familiar welcome taps of his fingers over the curve of their shoulders, down their sides, to their back where he likes to tap them the most. It’s a good sign, they think, that he’s tapping. Tapping is his good stim, his comfort stim, that means he’s coming out of himself a little, if he’s not hiding it. “Yeah,” They say softly. “I, um. Ben and I were looking for some stuff, and we found-... what we think is a news article about it?”

He nods into their shoulder, nuzzling against the crook of their neck. “I, I had a dad, and a, a, a a-a-a mom, and they-they died, b-because I moved when I was, was supposed to, to, um, to, to stay still-”

“No,” Laken protests, but he shakes his head, and they go quiet again.

“And, and, and I did gymnastics and went to, to-to-to state and re, regionals once and I was… I was, was, was okay. I think. I had had had friends. I had, had real friends. I think I, I was a good person, until I-... until I moved, and they d-died… my, my, my dad liked dinosaurs.”

“So do you,” Laken says, gently, and they feel his lips move, the hint of a smile, an attempt at one. 

“Mmhmm. He, he, he had dinosaurs he kept from, um, from when he was a kid and g-... gave them to, to to me. When, when I was six I had a-a racecar bed we got secondhand from, from, from my mom's friend and, and, and my dad bought those, um, Hot Wheels cars. We-we watched the Tour de France on, on, on TV every year. My, my mom took me everywhere. I, I remember holding her hand in, in in in parking lots. We, we, we did everything together. She, she, she said, she said… said said, y-you and me, Tris, we, we, we can do the hard shit, together.”

“Sounds like a badass mom.” Laken speaks against a closing throat, the flush of their skin, tears threatening in their eyes, too. They move back to finally sit on the floor, and Chris moves with them, keeping himself pressed against their warmth, their solidity, their beating heart, their life.

“Yeah,” He breathes out, and there’s so many layers of pain in that single simple word. “They, they, they took… they took my mom and dad a, away from, from from-from me. Out of, of my head. They, they took them and I… I didn’t-... I knew I lost, lost something, but it was like I could, um, could see the shape of them in the-the light but I couldn’t have their faces any, any… more. And I, I, I see them… now. I see-... but, but, but I have to see it all. I can't see only, only them. I, I ,I… see the bad stuff, too." His breath catches, and when he whimpers Laken is already tightening their arms around him, anticipating the sound, the shiver through his body, the grief that rocks through him like a wave crashing against a fragile shore. 

Grief is love with no place to go. When their abuela died, Laken’s mom had said that to them once or twice when they were angry-crying all over the house. They hadn’t really understood it, then, but they got it now - Chris’s whole body vibrated with the force of grief that had been pushed down, sublimated, forcibly given no firm subject to focus it on, but the love had never been gone - and neither had the grief at the loss.

Only simmering, under whatever they’d done to remove him from himself, tension building all unknowing, a volcano beneath the placid sunny surface waiting to erupt. 

“I know, know, know she loved me and I know how sh-she died and I know that it was, was my Sir who hurt me, me, me me me first, and I know how, how how how… how he, he, he hurt me, and… I can’t, can’t, can’t make it be different things. It’s… all… all one awful everything. I can’t remember one, one, one thing at a time, I keep getting-... too, too, too much.” Laken’s thumb moves over his soft short hair, rubs the wrong way to feel its slight resistance to their touch. “It’s, it’s, it’s all one hurt and it’s so-so-so… so so so, so big.”

“You don’t have to carry that hurt all by yourself, baby,” Laken murmurs. “We’ll carry it with you. Your brothers, and me. Ben wants to help. We’ll carry your hurt with you, and maybe it’s not so heavy if you share it with us?”

He shakes his head, rocking again, but it’s the gentle low rocking he does to calm himself, not the out-of-control rocking where he could hurt himself without help, so Laken just holds him and lets him rock. Short hair and scratches and pain and all, he’s still their sunshine boy.

He’s just… he just needs help to find the sun again.

“We found one of your friends,” Laken tries, and Chris goes still, then rocks again. They let out a breath they didn’t realize they were holding when they feel him gripping onto his feather on his own, rubbing at the ridges of the vanes in the silicone. Controlling himself, redirecting himself, it’s all important, it’s all more ways he can throw his hand out to grab the lifeline they are desperately trying to throw him. “Akio Nakamura.”

Chris nods, in rhythm with his rocking, and whispers, “Ah, Aki. We, we, we, in the video-... we did a bunch of, of, of those. We, we did-... he, he, he was better than me, he was going to, to, to be professional, I just-... my, my, my dad thought I’d go to the Ol, Olympics but I just wanted to be moving.”

“He really misses you,” Laken says, and feels Chris pull back and away, raising his head to look at them. There’s an expression of uncertain confusion on his face, disbelief. He can’t imagine anyone wanting to remember him, they think, and that hurts. He can feel grief like a knife inside him remembering his parents, but he doesn’t think anyone ever felt that for him.

“He, he does?”

“Yeah. Ben, um… Ben went to meet with him and I guess his mom. He… he wants to see you, Chris. He misses you. Do… you want to see him?”

Chris is silent, watching them, and in the dimness of a room where they don’t dare turn on any lights, his pale skin seems to give off its own light, and underneath it all their sunshine boy is still there. Hurting, and scared, and sad, but he’s there.

“You don’t have to,” Laken says gently. “You don’t, I promise.” They take his hands again, move them to their own stomach, press his fingers there to encourage him to tap, to feel the certainty of  a warmth that isn’t going anywhere. “But he wants to. He missed you, he and his mom. They want to see that you’re okay.”

For the first time in three days, Chris smiles. It’s faint, and weak, but it’s there. “I’m, I’m, I’m not okay, though.”

“They want to see you anyway,” Laken repeats, softly. “Ben says this Akio guy was… was really broken up about not knowing you’ve been here all along. I won’t pressure you. No one will. But if you think you can… there are people who remember you, Chris, people who missed you.”

Chris swallows, nodding more to himself than to them. "People who, who, who missed Tristan Higgs."

"Tristan Higgs is you, Chris. You're the same person he was. You're both."

There’s a long pause, and Laken sees dust motes catching the light, and thinks to themself that Chris can stare at dust motes for hours on what he calls bad brain days, lost in the way he says they sparkle in sunlight. 

“Do, do do… do you think… do they know where, where, where my, my parents are?”

Laken nods, slowly. “I’m sure they do.”

He pushes himself back into the corner, but the distance isn’t there this time, and Laken feels like this isn’t retreating, but simply finding somewhere secure to think it through. “I, I, I hope I was a good, good person when I was, was Tristan. I hope I, I was… good. Like, like a nice person."

“I’m sure you were. You’ve never been anything but good, Chris. Nobody made you that way. That’s just who you are. Nothing that's ever happened to you has been able to change that."

His eyes flicker to theirs and then away, but something has shifted in his expression. Determined, not distant. A firmer set to his jaw, a flintier look in his eyes. “I, I, I remember Aki. But, but I can’t… remember him without remembering, um, without, without the guns and, and, and blood, and my Sir, and s-signing, and-... and… all, all of it. I want-... I want to, to, to have the good things all on their, their own.” 

“Give it time,” Laken says, wishing they knew that for sure, wishing they weren’t just bullshitting their way through this, wishing they knew anything about the trauma that Chris has survived. Wishing they could be anything more than just a partner, arms to hold him, a heart to love him. “It’s new, still. Give it time.”

Chris slumps back against the wall. “May, maybe. My, my, my aunt… gave me away. Because I, I, I was too hard when I was, was sad. For them. My, my, my aunt-... they, they told me when I signed, they, they said-... I remember it. I remember asking for, for, for help…” He looks down at his hands, opening them, staring at his palms. “I was, was too hard when I-I was hurting. Too, too, too angry, too bad, too much. She she said-”

“Fuck her. No, you weren’t.” Laken holds their own hands out - and this time he reaches for them on his own. They sit there, holding hands in the dark of his room. The only light comes from the sun cutting through the blinds. “You were a kid missing his parents, and if she wasn’t up to the job of being a halfway decent human being, there were other people who could have stepped up. Listen to me. You’re hurting right now, and not a single person who loves you thinks it’s too hard or too much to help you. You’re not too hard, it’s not too much, you’re our Chris and we love you. Nobody’s walking away from you now.”

He swallows, watching them.

“Chris.” Laken squeezes his hands, just a little. “We're all here. We're not going to leave you alone to hurt, you have people who will hold you through it. I love you."

He manages, one more time, the slightest smile for them. “I, I, I love you, too. I… I want you, you, you here. Please… please, please don’t-... don’t leave me.”

“Never.” They kiss his hands again, and this time he presses his knuckles into their lips, chases the reassurance in the sensation, the gentle platonic affection. “Everyone’s here for you, Chris.”

“I, I, I just want-... want someone to love me, even-... even like this,” Chris whispers, his head tilted back against the wall. Laken grabs onto the smile he still has, and holds on tight. “Even when when when I’m too hard, when, when it’s too much. Love me even when when when it hurts."

“I do, Chris. I love you, like this, like before, like any way that you are, I love you.”

They kiss every cracked fingernail, every bruised or bloodied knuckle, as they speak. He watches them, and they can feel inside themself that he’s ready to be pulled up out of himself, that for the moment he’s ready to grab the lifeline.

And the next time he drowns, they’ll be there with another one.

“I’m not leaving you, Chris.”

“Pl-please-”

“Not ever. No matter what happened or who hurt you, I’m not leaving you.”

There’s a silence, and he nudges himself back against them, eyes closed, and softly - slowly - he hums, tuneless and toneless, and Laken lets out a deep sigh of relief. Self-soothing, comforting sounds, but ones he can’t always make when he’s scared, sounds he hasn’t made in two days now. They sit with him, holding him, feeling the comfortable movements of his body trying to put itself at rest, the gentle taps, the vibration of his hum, the slight rock of him against them. 

Finally, he says, softly, “Do, do, do-do-do you remember Oliver, Oliver Branch?”

“Who?” Laken blinks, turning to look down at him, so fucking young even though he’s three years older than they are. “Wait, the, um, the… the, shit, the Governor who was on trial for trying to sell a Senate seat, right? And then he died?”

“Um. Yes.” Chris tucks his head against them, and they shiver at the brush of his soft hair over their jaw. 

“Yeah, kind of. We went to see him my freshman year, he used to host all these field trips for high schools…”

Chris swallows - the sound is audible - and then whispers, “I, I, I remember.”

“Did you go on one?”

Chris breathes, in and out, slow but not quite steady. They can feel the warmth of his breath against their skin. They run their hands over his bare arms, his arms that are never bare except when he’s sleeping, skin that feels raw, exposed, covered in scratches from his own fingernails. “I was… there.”

Laken blinks, caught off-guard, confused. They rub their thumb over the ball of his wrist, feel him shaking against them. “What?”

“Un, under his desk.” Chris swallows, eyes shut tight. “He, he, he kept me under his-his desk when the, the kids came to see him. Or, or in the hall, or… on the bed…”

“Chris, what are you-... are you saying-”

“I was-... his.” Chris licks his lips, and Laken stays very still, afraid if they move he’ll flee back to his corner, hide under the bed, disappear like dew in the sun. “The Governor’s… pet. For-... he, he, he used me for-”

“Jesus.”  Laken’s stomach flips, a drop down to their knees and back again.

“When, when you came to-to-to see…”

“Chris-... no-”

“When you came… I was, was probably… un-under his, his, his-his… his desk. He drugged-... drugged me, to, to to to to-to keep me quiet.”

Laken thinks about Chris, having a headache after a long study session, nerving himself up to take nothing more than a couple of Tylenol, the way he always hesitates before he takes his ADHD meds in the morning. Something clicks into place.

Chris’s hands twist into the fabric of their shirt, and his face reddens, fading out the freckles over the flush. The white bandage over one cheekbone suddenly seems too white, garish. “Some, sometimes he would have me-... or, he would, um, hide me. Down, down, down the hall. On his bed. Waiting for him to, to, to come back and-”

“Jesus Christ,” Laken whispers. “Jesus fucking Christ. So that night you got all fucked up because it’d been a year since your-... you called him your Sir-… died... you were talking about Governor Branch?”

He’s quiet again, for a long time. Then, as if confessing a sin, he whispers, full of shame, “Yes.”

Laken needs very badly to go throw up all the anger and disgust and loathing they feel, and worse than that – the guilt that they were maybe a few feet way and never knew there was someone who needed help. They couldn’t have known, and yet Laken felt some sense that they should have, that they should have had some sense that something was wrong, and… they didn’t.

They need to throw up, but Chris needs them to stay right here. That, they can sense – that if they walk away from him, he won’t understand that they are not disgusted with him. “Does Jake-”

“Yes.”

“Oh, Chris.” They kiss into his hair, feel the warmth of his scalp underneath. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry. Te quiero, cariño. So much. I’m so sorry.”

“Me, too,” Chris murmurs, and they hold while he rocks, gently, into their solidity. “I’m, I’m, I’m… I’m-I’m sorry, too. I… I didn’t know how to, to, to… be anything but good. They, they took everything else away from me, Laken.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

“They took m-my parents, and, and, and my friends, and my… my fight… away.” Chris sniffs. “They took eh-everything and, and, and it-… it-it hurts, but… but it’s coming back. It’s, it’s… it’s, it’s, it’s coming back. I, I, I want to-to-to see Akio.”

“I’ll text Ben,” Laken whispers, feeling a twinge of something like fear at the sudden burst of strength in Chris’s soft, sweet, sad voice. Not fear of him, exactly, but fear… for him. For his heart, and his head, and everything he was tearing down inside it.

And what all that darkness and weight would do to his solid, determined sunshine.

“They, they, they took my, my, my-my-my mom and dad, and, and… and Aki, and everything, and… I, I, I…” He looks up at them, then, and his eyes are bright and so, so very green, and brilliant with all the pain and courage inside him. “I want it all back.”

---

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly  @newandfiguringitout  , @doveotions  , @pretty-face-breaker, @boxboysandotherwhump  , @oops-its-whump  @moose-teeth  , @cubeswhump  , @cupcakes-and-pain  @whump-tr0pes  @whumpiary  @orchidscript, @itallcomesdowntopain

#whump #trauma recovery #trauma recovery whump #recovery whump #ptsd tw #grief tw #parental death #memory loss #traumatic memories #pet whump #oliver branch is gross #chris the strawberry blond romantic #laken mamani: frankly I want to date them #referenced self-injury #victim-blaming tw #ableism tw #past noncon reference

[walkerwords]

“The Savior Sessions” Part 26 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: AMC

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: Sickness is spreading in Alexandria, the reader searches for their lost love, and Negan meets the silent enemy.

Word Count: 4433

Warning: Swearing, Mentions of Blood

Song I Wrote To: “In This Shirt” by The Irrepressibles

Note: I am getting really excited about the final few parts of this! However, we have a bit to go! All official dialog is property of AMC and Skybound. 

-----

Negan really hated Beta and he hadn’t said more than three words since they crossed paths. 

After crossing into the Whisperer’s territory, Beta had fallen upon Negan quickly, disarming and blindfolding him. Negan wasn’t sure if the giant man was going to kill him, so he kept talking in hopes that the Beta would take him to the Alpha to decide his fate.

“Look, man, I have spent the last eight fuckin’ years locked up by your enemy,” Negan said. “I want them dead as much as you do, hell, probably even more. Their old leader fucked me up good once upon a time ago and I haven’t been in a very forgiving mindset since. You take me to your Alpha and I will spill every goddamn secret I know about those fuckers and beyond.”

“Too much noise,” Beta snarled at him.

“Right, you people are all about the whole vow of silence thing,” Negan said in a mock whisper. “I get it, it’s freaky as shit, but I get it.”

“I should just slit your throat and be done with it,” said Beta.

“Been there, done that,” Negan said. “It didn’t stick.” Even behind the blindfold Negan figured Beta was reaching for the knives on his belt. He wouldn’t blame him if he did want to kill him.

Negan had only been back in “I am Negan” mode for all of twelve hours and he had already started to hate himself for it. However, he had a job to do and this was the first step in doing so.

“The Alpha will decide your fate,” Beta said as the Whisperers who had hold of Negan pushed him forward. 

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Negan said. Beta whirled on him, ripping down the blindfold and Negan cringed at the sight of the man in the mask. Beta then shoved the cloth into Negan’s mouth tightly.

“Stop talking,” Beta ordered. Negan glared back at him and it was then that he could see what you must have seen as Beta stood above you with his hand on your throat. The thought of that, the thought of that monster’s hand on the person he loved, kept Negan on his feet and walking forward. He knew that you wanted to kill Beta, but Negan was starting to think that if you didn’t do it soon, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. 

Beta dragged him through the woods and when they came across the main camp, Negan relaxed further, slipped on a cocky smile, and started to plan. 

-------

You and Carol were walking through the woods, both of you scanning for your respective targets.

You knew that she was looking for the horde and you didn’t care. All you wanted was to find Negan and if walking aimlessly around offered you some sort of clue, then you were going to do it. Daryl had tried to accompany her that morning, but you had stepped in and offered to go instead. Daryl was clearly worried about her, but you knew that she didn’t want comfort, she just wanted to work and find Alpha. 

You were more than willing to give that to her. 

That morning as you were getting ready to head out, you had stumbled across one of your emergency packs. You had begun to stash them around the house in case you had to leave suddenly with Negan. All three were accounted for which told you that he hadn’t even bothered to find one before he left. This only proved your theory that something was wrong and that he didn’t just leave.

On top of everything else, Aaron was now in contact with one of Alpha’s people. They called her Gamma and you didn’t like that he was speaking to her. If you had it your way, Gamma would be bleeding at your feet and not playing “frenemy”. 

“I can see your wheels turning,” Carol said as you walked beside her. Your sword was swinging on your hip as her bow was level in her hand. 

“I don’t think they’ve stopped since the world ended,” you said with a sigh.  Carol nodded in agreement. “Can we be honest with each other, Peletier?” you asked. 

“Always,” Carol said, snorting as you used her last name, something you always did when you first met her. 

“I think we both know that we’re out here for different reasons,” you said. 

“You always were the smart one,” Carol said. She then stopped walking and turned to you. “Are you going to tell me to back down?”

“I won’t tell you to stop hunting Alpha as long as you don’t stop me from taking out Beta.”

“He’s in your crosshairs, huh?” she said, continuing to walk. 

“I don’t know why he’s gotten under my skin, Carol. I do know that that motherfucker is going to die by my hand even if I have to bite his damn jugular out.” 

“Okay, Rick,” Carol said with a knowing look. 

“Michonne told you that story too?”

“I think everyone’s heard it,” Carol said. 

“I miss him so much,” you sighed as you climbed over a fallen tree. 

“What do you think he’d do if he was here?” Carol asked. 

“I think he would have shot Alpha the second she showed up at Hilltop.”

“I agree,” Carol said. “I feel like we’re running around with our heads cut off without him in this war.” 

“Maybe we can learn something from the past. We won the last war, I don’t know why this one would be any different.”

“Negan wasn't evil,” Carol said. This stunned you for a moment and Carol caught onto it. “Surprised to hear me defend him?” 

“A bit,” you admitted. 

“You remember my husband?” 

“Ed?” you asked. “How could I forget?” Carol’s dead husband was an abusive asshole that deserved what he got. You remembered how Shane was ready to throttle him and you were willing to help. Lori was the one to calm the both of you down before you murdered him. However, you knew that Shane had always been right about him. 

“My husband didn’t care about me or our daughter. Ed was a horrible human being who preyed on the weak. Alpha is the same way. She doesn’t care who she hurts and she is willing to kill women, children, and anyone to get what she wants. Negan...he had a code. I don’t know if that makes up for all the things he did, but in my book, he’s a better person than Ed or Alpha.”

“I wish more people shared those thoughts,” you said. 

“I can tell that you love him,” she said. “I can see it on your face and in your eyes. He’s...I guess he’s your sanctuary.”

“Is it wrong that I feel guilty for that?”

“For loving him?” she asked and you nodded. “No, (Y/N), it’s not wrong. I also want you to know that it's okay, no matter who it is.” 

“Ezekiel said the same thing,” you said. Carol smiled at that. You didn’t know exactly what had happened between her and the King, but you knew they weren’t speaking as much and you figured they weren’t even together at all.

It wasn’t odd when parents broke up after the death of a child. You had seen it enough when you were a teacher. Carol was strong, but you did worry about Ezekiel. 

“What’s your opinion on him, Carol?” you asked after a moment. 

“On Negan?” she asked and you nodded. “Well, I am never going to forgive him for Glenn or Abraham, but I see that he’s changed. I know that he cared about Carl, and in his own way, respected Rick. I also know that he would never lay his hand on a child or a woman and if it came down to it, he would die for Judith. I think that regardless of what he’s done, at least we know he knows how to be a good man even if he hasn’t always been one.” 

Nodding, you tried to keep your emotions in check, but the tears came quickly. You hunched over, feeling a loss and Carol grabbed you into her arms. 

“I have no doubt he will come home to you,” she whispered. “Do not lose faith, my friend.” 

“I need him,” you choked out. 

“I know, honey,” Carol said. “I know.” 

—————-

You broke off from Carol not that long after her words of comfort. 

Needing to be alone, you began the trek towards Hilltop. You weren’t exactly sure what you were looking for, but perhaps if you saw it you would know. Carol had mentioned that she wasn’t just looking for Alpha, but the horde as well. Daryl had seen it when Alpha had taken him to the cliff edge. The Whisperers had the largest weapon you could ever imagine and if they decided to use it, you weren’t sure many would survive. 

However, you had your own weapon. That is if you could find him. Thinking back to the first day that you had spoken to Negan in his cell, Michonne had said that Alexandria could use him. Not just for a mental punching bag, but because he had run a community unchallenged for years. The Sanctuary, while it was a symbol of hate for Alexandria and the others, it was still proof that some people were born to be in power. Negan was the best shot you had at getting into Beta’s head. The only problem was that Negan may not want to help, not when he had come so far to become a better man.

“And now I’m the one wanting to make him relive that past life,” you muttered as you moved through the trees. 

“Talking to yourself? Never a good sign,” a voice said. You recognized it immediately, turning towards the young woman who stepped around a tree. Enid leaned against the trunk, her knife on her hip and a large button-up around her shoulders. You recognized it as one of Alden’s shirts. 

“I think a little insanity is healthy,” you offered, causing Enid to smile a bit. “How are you?” you asked. 

“I’m getting there,” she admitted. You hadn’t spoken to her much since the fair. Here and there you would check-in, but you had been caught in Negan for months. That guilty feeling returned. “What are you doing out here?” she asked. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” you said. 

“I needed to get out before Alden wrapped me in plastic wrap.”

“He’s become a helicopter boyfriend?” you guessed, continuing to walk. Enid fell into step next to you. 

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” she grumbled. 

“Alden is just worried about you,” you said. “Rosita and Gabriel are doing the same with Siddiq.”

“Is he doing okay?”

“He’s been distracted with his daughter and I think that’s helping. Rosita says that he isn’t sleeping though,” you said. 

“Neither am I,” Enid said. “I can’t get the look of Tara’s face out of my head. Seeing her die and then what they did with her body…” You reached out and took her hand in yours.

“I am so sorry you had to see that,” you said. 

“I’ve seen people die before, but that… that wasn’t human, (Y/N),” Enid said. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep without the nightmares.” 

“I wish I could do something to help you,” you said. 

“You are, you’re talking to me and you’re still looking for the Whisperers,” she said. “That’s why you’re out here, right?” You paused, trying not to fully lie. 

“Right,” you said, but Enid could see right through it. 

“Or are you looking for Negan?”

“Can’t I do both?” you asked. Enid shrugged. Negan was a rough subject with Enid. He had killed Glenn who had become like a father to Enid in some ways. He had taken care of her when she didn’t think anyone wanted her around. When he was taken away from her, Enid had taken over as caretaker for Maggie and you knew that Negan wasn’t winning any popularity contests with the young woman. 

“How do you know he’s actually changed?” Enid asked, surprising you. 

“Everyone keeps asking me that,” you said with a sigh. “I don’t think it’s something I can just explain. It’s something you have to see.” 

“Why do you think he’s changed?” Enid asked. 

“Because he had to and because he wanted to,” you said without a second of hesitation. “Negan wasn’t always who we met all those years ago.”

“I wonder what changed.”

“His wife died and the world ended,” you said. “Some people are built for this kind of world, others have to adapt and change with it in order to survive.” 

“So, you’re saying that the end of the world turned him into a killer?” 

“It’s turned us all into killers, Enid,” you reminded her. Enid was quiet for a moment before she continued. 

“Alden once told me a story about him,” she began. “Alden wasn’t always with Negan, he usually just stayed at the outposts, but one day Negan went to visit. They all went out in search of people or supplies and they found a small family. It was a husband, his wife, and their two teenagers. Twins, I think. Alden thought that Negan was going to recruit the man to be a Savior and take care of the teens and the wife.”

“Did he?” you asked. Enid shook her head. 

“Alden said that Negan...switched when he noticed something. It wasn’t until he got closer that he saw what Negan did. The wife was covered in bruises, the kids too. These weren’t the normal ones you would get from running from Walkers either.”

“He was beating them,” you concluded. 

“Negan gave the man one chance to admit what he had done. I guess the husband drew a gun on his family, threatening to kill them. Negan ordered Alden and some other Saviors to grab the kids and keep them safe as he dealt with the parents. The wife began to beg Negan for help and that’s when Negan tackled the husband, knocking him out cold.” 

“Did he kill him?” 

“He didn’t have to,” Enid said. “The son of a bitch had gotten bit and was going to turn and then turn his family. Some sort of sick ‘together forever’ type thing. Negan got the family into the Sanctuary and kept them safe. The mom died about a year later from a respiratory infection.”

“And the twins?”

“Alden doesn’t know. They were around fifteen or so. Maybe they left, maybe Negan got them set up somewhere else, I don’t know. I just know their names: Adam and Olivia. I like to think they made it and they’re out there somewhere.”

“Why did Alden tell you this?”

“I think he was trying to convince me that not everything the Saviors did was bad,” she said. “I think he’s still worried that I see him as an enemy, but I never did. At least not since he helped us win the war.” 

“I wish I could say the same about my own Savior,” you sighed. 

“Can’t you?” she asked. 

“Enid, we both know that Negan and Alden are two very different people with very different situations,” you said. 

“True, but that doesn’t mean Negan hasn’t done his fair share of good. Daryl told me about Judith, all the times he’s saved her. Maybe he’s not lost after all.”

“You sound like Carl,” you complimented. Enid gave you a small smile at that. 

“I know that he would be completely on board with you and Negan,” she said. “I also know that he would be by your side right now looking for him.” 

“Negan wouldn’t have left if Carl was still here,” you said. 

“Why are you so sure that he left?” 

“Are you suggesting somebody kidnapped my boyfriend?” you asked, raising your brows. 

“Stranger things have happened,” she offered. 

“Your wisdom is very… Greene,” you said. 

“Well, Maggie did help me see this world differently. I think we could all use a little Rhee/Greene wisdom right now.”

“If you find some,” you said. “Pass it along alright?”

“You got it,” Enid said. Bumping her shoulder with your own, you took a deep breath. 

“I can’t imagine what she would think about me right now, En,” you said. “I can’t imagine the betrayal she would feel.” 

“(Y/N), listen to me,” Enid said. “We spend too much time thinking about what others would think instead of just being in the moment with the people around us. I lost my best friends to Alpha and I lost a piece of myself, but I still have Alden. I still have that person who loves me unconditionally. I think that is more important right now.” 

“I can’t stop the guilt,” you whispered. 

“(Y/N), you’ve lost too much to feel guilty for loving someone,” she said. Enid then continued on, letting you absorb her words. The sheer fact that Enid was saying these things to you made you even more confused. It began to make you wonder if your friends were actually coming around to the idea of Negan being a part of the community or if they were just worried for your sanity. 

If you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t know which was worse. 

--------

When you returned to Alexandria, you found that Siddiq and Dante were being overwhelmed. 

“What’s going on?” you asked as you walked into Rosita’s house. 

“I don’t know,” Siddiq said, “it looks like some kind of bug is going around.”

“Are you feelin’ okay, Doc?” you asked, reaching to feel his forehead, but he swatted your hand away. 

“I’m fine, but Ro is on bed rest for the time being. I’ve been trying to get her to sleep, but Coco is keepin’ her up as usual.”

“I will talk to her,” you said. “Go check on the rest of your patients before Dante passes out from exhaustion.” 

“Will do,” he said. 

“Hey, where’s Daryl? I didn’t see him when I came in,” you said. 

“I think he went out after Carol,” Siddiq said. With a roll of your eyes, you nodded. Of course, he did. 

As Siddiq went to go check on the others, you headed into Rosita’s room. “Alright, Ma’am, gimme the kid, I need baby time,” you said, reaching for the little girl. Rosita handed her to you without a question, sinking back into her pillows. 

She did look pale and tired and you knew that she knew she should be resting. However, she was trying to be supermom. You respected that, but you also needed your friend to sleep. Sitting down in the armchair by the bed, you held Coco close to your chest, gently rubbing her back. 

“Find him?” Rosita asked. 

“Not yet,” you whispered, resting your eyes. “I did run into Enid, though.”

“Is she doing any better than Siddiq?” she asked. 

“Not really,” you said. “She’s having nightmares.”

“So is he,” Rosita sighed. “I’m worried about him.”

“I know, I am too,” you said. Siddiq was always the voice of reason. He reminded you a lot of Herschel. It was no wonder that Carl saw the kindness in him as soon as he met him. 

“(Y/N), about Negan,” Rosita began, but you shook your head. 

“I can’t right now,” you said. “People have been giving their opinion on him since we got home from the fair and even more so now that he’s gone. I just need to sit here and hold your girl so you can get better. Please.”

“Okay,” Rosita whispered, curling into her side so she always had eyes on Coco.

“Rest, mama,” you said. “You need it and I got her.”

“Thanks,” Rosita whispered as her eyes fell closed.

“Any time, Ro,” you said as he pressed a kiss to Coco’s forehead and settled into the chair, propping your feet up on the bed. It didn’t take long for you to relax and for the little Espinosa to fall asleep. As you set there, you focused on the small breaths of the baby and wished for a miracle. 

---------

From gravedigger to pig hunter, Negan was not having a good day. 

He was especially missing you and following the skins around all day was starting to give him a headache. The only thing that was keeping him going was a trinket that was tucked into his pocket. It was something he had taken from your house the last time he had been there. It was a small marble that you kept on the mantle of your fireplace. You had told him that you had found it the first time you visited the Kingdom. It was black and white which reminded him of you and him. 

He wondered if you had even noticed it was missing. Though, he figured that you were beyond pissed right now and a missing marble wouldn’t exactly mean much. Rubbing his thumb over the smooth token, he continued to follow the asshole in front of him. 

He and Beta were butting heads at every chance they got. He knew that the bastard didn’t like him, but he didn’t really give a shit. He wasn’t there to make friends with him. He just wanted the damn Alpha. However, that was proving to be a bit of a problem. 

Beta was testing him and he hated every second of it. Beta, however, seemed to be enjoying himself as he tortured, tested, and talked down to Negan. The latter had been around assholes his entire life and while Beta was a dick, when it came to being scary, he didn’t even touch Rick Grimes. Although, at least Rick would actually talk to him. 

“I just don’t see the point in all of this,” Negan said as Beta led him through the dark woods. Beta just continued to ignore him. Negan had been playing Whisperer custodian all day and he was tired of it. Now, Beta had him wandering through the dark for some reason and Negan was already annoyed. 

“Clearly,” Negan continued, “we are not jivin'. And, you know, to be honest with you, I totally understand the position you're in. You gotta be, like, the tough guy and keep everybody in line. I mean, hell, you know, I had guys just like you to keep my shit tight. Alright, maybe not just like you.” 

Beta’s jaw clenched, but Negan went on. “Uh, hell, if I had some monster your size, things would've turned out different. For one, I wouldn’t be lacking as much Vitamin D.” Beta didn’t get the joke. “Look, whether you like me or not, I will be joinin' this team, so maybe we should find a way to get along, you know, and stop pissin' on each other's boots.”

“You will never be one of us,” Beta sneered, getting into Negan’s face. “You’re too loud, too weak, too full of ego.”

“Some people like my damn ego,” Negan offered. 

“You are a waste, and Alpha will see it.”

“So, cards on the table, then? Cool. I dig that. See, I'm not here for you. I am here for Alpha. So, you go ahead, and you throw your little tests at me and you scowl and throw me on the ground like a five-and-dime Frankenstein. I don't give a shit,” Negan shot back. “See, big man, I ain't goin' anywhere.” Beta stopped walking and properly faced his antagonizer.

“Finally, something we can both agree on. You won't be going anywhere,” Beta said as the growls of Walkers echoed around them. The Dead stumbled towards them and Negan, who was weaponless, only got more pissed.

“Wait a minute. Did you just make a Goddamn joke? I would be impressed if I wasn't so pissed off right now,” he said. Beta then shoved him back towards the Walkers as he faded into the shadows, leaving Negan to the Dead. With a grunt, Negan turned to face his rotting enemies. “Oh, you have got to be shittin' me.”

------

Negan was covered in blood and the smell of rotting flesh, but he was alive. 

And he was pissed. 

Negan had fought for years. He knew how to kill in all sorts of ways and he knew how to kill Walkers. However, being thrown into that small herd with nothing but his bare fists had nearly killed him. The only thing that kept him going was you. 

He thought back to the training sessions, you, Lydia, and he had done in the living room of your home. The hand-to-hand and weapons training was important, but then there was what Lydia had brought to the table. The number one thing that her mother had taught her was how to improvise in a dire situation. Anything could be a weapon and only you were the one capable of getting yourself away from death. 

Negan had ducked and pushed his way through the Walkers, dodging their teeth and hands the best he could. When he spotted the fallen branch on the ground, he had laughed and picked it up. It wasn’t Lucille, but it would do. As he faced down the Walkers in front of him, he grinned. 

“Lydia, give me strength,” he whispered as he swung. 

Now, as every Walker was in pieces and he was drenched in blood, he strutted back into camp. Just as Beta was explaining to Alpha that Negan was dead, he made his appearance. 

“I'm ready for my Goddamn skin suit!” he announced as he walked between Whisperers, the branch on his shoulder. “You best bring that extra-long tape measure on account of my humongous balls.” He spotted Alpha immediately. She was looking at him with curiosity and as much as he hated to admit it, Lydia had had that same look when she first met him. 

Approaching the Alpha, he dropped the makeshift weapon and dropped to his knee in front of her. Alpha looked at him as if he was prey, but he didn’t back down. 

“Hi, I'm Negan,” he said with a cocky grin. “We haven't formally met, but I sure as hell know who you are. And whether my reputation precedes me or not, I'm all in.” Alpha reached out and pulled a piece of flesh off his shoulder. “Whatever you want, whatever I got, it's yours.”

Alpha leaned forward then and placed a finger on her lips. “Shh,” she said and Negan just grinned back, knowing he had cast the line, all she had to do was bite.

TAGS: @lucillethings​ @cameronsails​ @stark-dreams​ @amaroho​ @thanossexual​ @yes-sir-hotchner​ @boom-bunny​ @delusionalteenagewhispers​ @scootankle​ @ritajammer21​ @writteriguess​ @tea-atfive​ @jennydehavilland​ @waspyyy​ @yespleasejayhalstead​ @hoemadegrace​ @writingdeadangel​ @huffledor-able541​ @pulplorrd​ @felicisimor​ 

#the walking dead #twd #twd imagines #negan x you #negan x reader #negan x y/n #twd fanfic #walkerwords #savior sessions #the walking dead fanfiction #Negan

[babyboyblasty]

CHAPTER 12:

All the girls had at least one bag in their hand. Momo had eight (some big but most of them medium sized that only contained one or two things each), Mina four, Hagakure two, Jirou one, Uraraka one, Tsuyu two, and Aoyama five. The only one without any bags was Bakugou since he hasn’t bought anything. So far— and he will rather die than admit it out loud— hanging out with his classmates wasn’t the most terrible thing that has happened to him these past three days. He was actually kinda having a good time.

"You should have come with us to get your nails painted too, Bakugou-kun" Hagakure placed an invisible hand on his shoulder where he saw some glittery blue polish.

"Yeah! I think a nice /green/ would look great on you" Uraraka smiled, giving a wink to Tsuyu who shook her head.

“Actually, I think Bakubabe would prefer a firetruck /red/ ” Mina nudged Jirou who gave her friend a knowing look.

"On the contrary, I believe a nice dark color like black or purple would suit Bakugou-san best" Momo suggested, oblivious to what her other friends were hinting at. "Perhaps Bakugou would like to join us on our next trip?" she turned to look at him and he looked back at her then the rest who were waiting for his answer like they were insane.

"But I won't be a girl then" he replied like they'd forgotten. 

"We know that, kero, but Bakugou-chan is fun when he is not yelling," Tsuyu responded, a finger to her cheek.

"You joining us again would be très bien, monsieur" Aoyama smiled over at him, wiggling his fingers in front of his face to show off simplistic french tipped fingernails. 

Bakugou didn't really respond but he did smile a little on the inside. Not that they needed to know that though.

The conversation was dropped to start another one about what they've bought so far, cuticle care (via Aoyama), and what they wanted to do tomorrow in their free day. That somehow turned into Momo recalling a restaurant she visited with her parents where the food was magnificent and that led to Bakugou claiming he can make the best damn breakfast they've ever had and Jirou challenging him to cook breakfast for them tomorrow to prove it. He agreed of course and the girls couldn't wait. They already knew Bakugou was a great cook but challenging him was always fun for both them and for Bakugou since he liked to prove he was the best.

After walking around for a bit, the girls decided that they wanted to go into a store that just recently opened. It was one similar to Victoria Secret that sold lingerie and other intimate clothing that Bakugou didn’t feel comfortable in so the blonde stayed outside on his phone. 

"Is that Bakugou Katsuki I'm seeing? Or do my eyes deceive me" Bakugou could practically hear the smirk and sarcasm dripping from the words. Looking up, he saw Emo Deku 2.0 walking over to where he was standing, the smug bastard. 

"Is that the human vibrator I'm seeing? Or is it just a big pile of dog shit" he countered back, baring his teeth up at the guy. Shindou Yo always rubbed him the wrong way and just the sound of his voice and that dumb way he patronized and looked down at him like he was better was enough to make his blood boil. He thought he’d seen the end of him after their provisional hero license exam when he was a first year and Shindou was a third year, but fate has a funny way of working and Bakugou seems to run into the guy more often than he'd like when he's out doing public service hero work or at internships. 

"No need for insults, Bakugou. I was just surprised to see you, that's all. I heard about what happened over at the agency but I didn't believe it. I mean, you /are/ supposed to be the best, right? So how on earth was I to believe that a small time thug got the upper hand on the Great Explosion Murder God DynaMight?" Shindou tilted his head, looking down at Bakugou with fake curiosity and concern. "I could see I was mistaken though. Maybe you're just not as amazing as they say you are /just/ yet. That's okay though. It took me all three years at Ketsubutsu Academy to fully learn how to be a great hero but I guess some people need more time. It's okay being a late bloomer. Isn't that right, Katsuki?"

Bakugou was positively fuming and it took everything in him not to launch at him right then and there. He wasn't the same explosive boy from his first year that couldn't control his impulses. Besides, making him lose his composure is what that asshole wanted and he won't give him the satisfaction. He won't compromise his perfect record and possibly endanger someone by using his quirk in a public setting. Clenching his fist as hard as he could, he let the sparks threatening to ignite die in his palms.

"What? You've got nothing to say, Katsuki? How very unlike you" the black haired boy teased. It's been two years since Shindou Yo graduated from Ketsubutsu Academy High School and half a year since he's been working as a rookie pro hero. He was assigned to this mall by the agency he works at and imagine his surprise when he saw Bakugou just standing there in the open like that. Really, he just couldn't resist coming over and saying hi. The blonde was always so entertaining. 

"Pro-hero Grand! May we have your autograph?" a small girl and boy ran over to them, each holding a pen and notebook in their hands up to Shindou's face. The man's condescending smile changed into a friendly one at the flip of a switch. "Of course! It'd be an honor" he laughed and gave them both his signature. Bakugou let out a 'tch' sound, crossing his arms over his chest. "Thank you for your support!" he waved them goodbye and the children waved back with a 'thank you', running off back to a woman who they guessed was their mother.

"Does it ever get tiring being a two-faced bitch?" Bakugou growled and Shindou turned back to him, letting out an amused laugh.

"See? There he is. Or should I say she now?" he made a thinking face and laughed when Bakugou audibly growled like a dog. "That's what I like about you, Bakugou. Always so feisty" he cooed before stepping a bit closer. Bakugou kept his ground so they were almost chest to chest, Bakugou glaring up at the guy because of his new height. If he was smaller by one or two inches before, he is now nearly half a foot shorter than the bastard. "You know, this look actually kinda suits you. It makes you look cute when you're angry so really I can't even take you seriously. Not that I did before, but now I get the sudden urge to hug you. Isn't that funny?" he smirked.

"Well take a good long look, perv, because I'll be turning back to normal tomorrow morning," Bakugou spat. Shindou looked genuinely confused for a split second and it made Bakugou get a sinking feeling in his chest.

"Tomorrow morning? Are you sure? Did Eraser tell you that?" the pro hero raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips. 

"What the hell are you getting at?" Bakugou frowned. 

"Oh nothing, don't mind me. If that's what your teacher said then it must be true" he shrugged.

"Is there something you're not telling me? If there is, spit it out already."

"Like I said, it's nothing. Anyway, I must be getting back to work. The streets don't keep themselves safe, you know?" Shindou smiled and turned to leave but Bakugou immediately grabbed his arm, spinning him around to face him and gripping onto the black and gold top piece of his hero costume to pull him down to his eye level.

"Woah there Bakugou. Aren't we moving just a bit too fast?" the older of the two chuckled.

"Listen up, dumbass. I swear if there's something you're not telling me I'll—" he growled out before getting interrupted by a stern voice.

"Bakugou! What is going on here? Let go of him immediately" Iida stepped up to both of them. Midoriya, Todoroki, and the other three standing behind the tall, navy haired male were all ready to intervene if need be, Midoriya and Todoroki more so than the rest.

Bakugou unclenched his hands from Shindou's hero costume with a huff and Shindou smoothed it out with a throaty laugh.

"Thanks for that. Iida Tenya, right? Ingenium's younger brother?" Shindou smiled. 

The class rep nodded and answered 'yes, I am' before putting his hands together. "Pro-hero Grand," Iida gave a deep bow, "I apologize in advance for my classmate's despicable behavior. As class rep it is my responsibility to ensure everyone acts their best in order to better represent the name of U.A. My apologies again, sir!" Iida was practically yelling and it caused a few heads to turn their way in curiosity to what was happening, but they all looked away with a sharp glare from a certain ash blonde that basically told them to mind their own fucking business. "Is everything okay? Was Bakugou bothering you?"

Bakugou could have laughed. Of course they'd think that so he wasn’t even surprised.

"What?" Shindou laughed before the black haired hero began maneuvering the younger so that he had an arm around Bakugou's shoulders and his other hand was holding one of Bakugou's wrists like they were the best of pals. "Oh no, not at all. Bakugou-kun and I were just talking about old times. I was giving him a few words of my experience so far and some advice as a pro hero" the male gave a bright smile. "What you saw just now was a new move Bakugou was demonstrating to me. There is no problem here, right Katsuki?"

"Whatever."

Midoriya's eyes flickered over to Kacchan. Honestly, he doesn't think that that was what happened at all. He thinks Shindou said or did something that made Bakugou react that way. He's known the blonde for a long time now and while his childhood friend might be a hot head, he wasn't the type to start fights without reason. Todoroki, Shoji, and Koda thought the same but didn't say anything. They didn’t get good vibes from Shindou either.

Todoroki didn't like the interaction between those two one bit and Izuku felt the need to go up and pull his Kacchan away from him.

"Well, that's a relief" Iida answered with a bit of hesitance. He was still a bit suspicious but let the matter slide.

"I hope to see you all out in the field in a few years. Work hard" Shindou said his goodbyes to all of them individually before turning to Bakugou. "It was nice bumping into you, Katsuki-chan. And I meant what I said earlier too. You look good" he winked and Bakugou growled. "Take care, guys" he smiled, waving goodbye. 

They all watched the hero go before Iida was turning to Bakugou. "What happened between you two, Bakugou?" he frowned and Bakugou grumbled.

"Nothin' that concerns any of you. Now quit buggin me."

Iida tried not to take offense. After a few years of being classmates, he should be used to the blonde's somewhat hostile way of speaking. “As you wish. Why were you alone? Where are the girls and Aoyama?” he asked.

“In the store” he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

Almost as if by magic, Bakugou’s group started walking out of the store, some carrying new small bags. 

“Deku-kun! Iida-kun!” Uraraka grinned, going up to them excitedly.

“Uraraka-san. It’s good to see you” Izuku smiled. The rest of them caught up before Iida started lecturing the girls about leaving Bakugou alone.

“I can take care of myself, four eyes!” he yelled but Iida paid no attention to him as he continued talking to the rest about what he saw happening with Bakugou and Shindou earlier to make a point about why we should all be in groups or in pairs at all times. Mina gasped loudly and Momo turned around to look at Bakugou with sympathy.

“Did he do something to you, Bakugou?" the pink girl was stomping over to him, a furious look on her face. "Where is he? I’ll beat him up I swear” Mina frowned, looking around to see if she can spot the black haired hero around. For his sake, he better pray she doesn't. Apparently she thought the same thing Midoriya did.

"Bakugou-kun! I am terribly sorry we left you alone. I should have known better and stayed behind with you. I am so sorry for your troubles" she apologized.

"Hah? Do you think I'm some type of damsel in distress now or something? It's fine, ponytail. Quit apologizing" he grumbled, looking away. “You too, Pinky.”

Momo gave him a soft smile and went in for a hug. She was sure he'd most likely push her off so when he didn't, she was very surprised. He didn't hug back but Momo didn't expect him to and she hugged him a bit tighter, the rest of the girls going in for a group hug as well. The boys were unsure what to do (even though some of them really wanted to join) so they stood to the side and watched how Bakugou started telling them to quit being "sentimental fucks" and let go already. They could tell he didn’t really mind it when he didn't immediately threaten to blow them up though.

Bakugou couldn’t wait until he went back to normal tomorrow.

[ word count: 2318 ]

(the shindou and bakugou inspiration for this chapter was these two pieces of fanart!)

#bakubowl #fanfic #boku no hero academia #bakugou x everyone #bnha #gender bender #temporary fem!bakugou #fem!bakugou #bakugou centric #BAKUBOOBS!?!