#an entire day spent in bed only to end it with wonderful food.

[tonycries]

Bad Boys Bring Roses - G.S.

Synopsis. You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?

Pairing. Yakuza boss! Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, yakuza! au, fake marriage, annoyances to lovers, elders suck, mentioned k*lling (not reader or Satoru), Satoru is INSANE and SO down bad, one bed trope, praise, biting, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, flower language, kníves, bit dark, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.1k (whoopsies)

A/N. I just HAD to get this out of my mind like I wanna write an entire book series on this. Spent too long researching rose language as well so see if y’all catch that hehe.

You thought the wedding invitation was a joke when it had arrived - a delicate, lacey little card that you’ve probably read over a million times by now. It had been stuffed haphazardly into your mailbox, along with a ridiculously large bouquet of purple roses. Seemingly inconspicuous when you first tore into the thick envelope, wondering which one of your friends was getting married now. 

And it was - that is, until you saw your name at the very top - right where the blushing bride’s was supposed to be. 

We hereby formally invite you to the marriage of…

What? 

No return address. No date. No groom’s name either. Only yours, written in beautiful, golden writing - inviting you to your own wedding, exactly a week from now.

You remember perfectly the way you’d flipped it over and over in your hands, the gears turning in your head as you tried to crack down on the motive behind this invitation. A threat? A joke? Texting all of your friends about what a cute prank that was - only to get a shared confused reaction, and a few “April Fool’s has already passed, y’know.”

Hell, you’d even cornered the mailman, desperate to get to the bottom of this. But that wasn’t particularly helpful when he was only able to shake his head in protest, pale as a sheet, and trembling ever-so-slightly as he sped away from you. Weird. 

Without a clue as to who sent the letter, or even a follow-up in the days after, you stuffed the invitation somewhere deep in the back of your closet and handed the bouquet to your mother. Not bothering to tell your parents where it was from - because who’d worry over a stupid prank like this? It was probably one of the kids from down the street that’d gotten their grubby lil’ hands on a printer. 

You, however, had more important things to focus on - like trying to help your father revive his failing diner. It was a family business, a quaint, hearty little shop. One that was quickly, and dangerously, losing both customers and employees with the brand new fast food place that’d popped up right across the street. 

Which is why you found yourself here - working overtime on a Saturday night, looking over the empty chairs and stacks of boxes from behind the counter. Whatever, it was only a few weeks until relocation anyway.

You heave out a sigh, eyes flitting to the clock beside you - 11:21pm.

Nine minutes more, you drum your fingers in boredom, maybe you should just close up early. Because sure as hell no one else was-

“Oh? Still open?”

“Ah- Uh, yes, welcome!” Jolting out of your reverie, you stand up ramrod straight, taking in the customer standing at the door. He wasn’t one of the regulars - no, you think you’d remember if he was. Cloudy white hair, piercing blue eyes that twinkle from above his shades, even in the dim light of the diner. He was so very tall, taking up almost all of the doorframe, only getting more and more imposing as he walks up to you in quick, long strides. Magnetizing. 

And if you dared let your eyes wonder, you caught a few tattoos peeking out from his unfairly snug button-up, clashing with its flashy blue color. Dragons? Trees? Or were they flowers - roses?

“Roses.” the man in front of you answers your unspoken question, voice so very deep, and melodic - tinged with something playful in it that you wouldn’t have expected at first glance. At your raised brow he continues with a wink, “Could tell ya were checkin’ me out, sweetheart.”

“F-forgive my rudeness, sir.” you sputter, face burning. You look away from the way his muscled ripple as he crosses his arms, immediately turning to fumble with the menus, “Please take a seat and I’ll be there with you shortly.”

You’d expected him to take up a booth, or maybe head towards one of the good tables around the corner. What you did not expect was for him to plop down on the stool right in front of you, flashing you a playful grin before humming, “S’alright, m’just waitin’ for someone.”

Oh. Well, it made sense that someone like him would be taken. Swallowing, you hand over the menu, before giving him a close-lipped smile, “A lover?”

Resting his head on his palms, not bothering to even glance at the list of dishes before him. “My fiancée.”

“Congratulations, Mr…”

“Gojo Satoru.” he tilts his head, looking way too happy with himself. “Please, call me Satoru.” 

You nod softly, picking up your pen and notepad to get this conversation over with - and maybe to also avoid his heavy stare that made something hot and uncomfortable coil in your stomach. “Right, Mr-” at his disappointed whine, “Satoru. Congratulations, must be one heck of a thing to plan.”

“Oh I’m having fun with the wedding planning.” He waves off your words with a chuckle, missing - or pointedly ignoring - the way you were waiting for his order. “How’s it going for you?”

What?

You narrow your eyes at the way Satoru was batting those long lashes up at you, deceivingly innocent and waiting for your answer. “I’m sorry- Me? Did you mean with the diner relocation plans or-”

“No no no.” he laughs, loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say at someone interrupting you if you weren’t so mesmerized by that little dimple at the corner of his grin. One that moves as he plows on, “M’asking how wedding planning is going for you, wifey~”

There’s a beat of silence. One. Two. With you gaping at the pure audacity as Satoru quiets down to little titters, seemingly studying your reaction in amusement. Which slowly, but surely, drains from his face as you grit out a sharp, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. We’re very busy and don’t have time to entertain your pick-up lines.”

Those widened blue eyes sweep the painfully empty diner, letting out a low whisper. “I can see that.” you let out a strangled noise of embarrassment at that. “But you’re really gonna ask your husband to leave?”

Huffing in frustration, “I don’t have a husband.”

“...you do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t. And who the fuck are you to tell me I do?”

“What?!” Satoru jumps out of his seat in shock, fast enough that the stool clatters to the floor with a deafening clang! Hands slamming on the counter as he leans over it - so close that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face with each hurried, shrill word that tumbles out of his lips. “What do you mean you don’t have a- I’m gonna kill those fuckin’- After I bought Canva premium just to make that invitation? Did the flowers come at least?”

And while Satoru is panicking, words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute - only one of those rings in your mind - invitation. 

“You.” you hiss, barely audible over meltdown in front of you. Pointing a finger accusingly, “You’re the one behind that prank with the dumbass roses.”

That seems to snap Satoru out of his dramatic monologue - and you’re glad it did. Because he looks up to meet your glare, “Hey! You didn’t like the roses?” 

And for the first time, you see Satoru more serious than he’d been ever since stepping into this diner. Eyes somewhere behind you, ablaze and almost…frightening. “Didn’t you ask him?” 

You whirl around to see your father, who’d apparently rushed downstairs at the commotion. Baseball bat to fight off the intruder hanging in midair as he stands frozen, taking in the scene before him - but more importantly, that man in front of him. “You.”

---

And, well, it’s not everyday that you’re having late night tea with your parents and one of your father’s…business associates. Even rarer when said business associate is…you gulp, praying to whoever’s above that this is all some sick dream you’ll wake up any second from. 

“So, let me get this straight…” you sigh, pinching your nose in frustration. It’s been an hour or two of trying to understand whatever this was. Giving a stern look at the two men squirming across from you in the booth. “My father was conned by one of your-” you gesture your head at Satoru, which only makes his smirk grow, “-men to take a loan from your um-”

“Family, yakuza. Anything goes.” he supplies helpfully.

You wave him off, trying as quickly as possible to brush off the ‘yakuza’ bit that makes your stomach lurch. “And now he owes you a favor of…what exactly?”

Satoru leans across the table, t-shirt opening tantalizingly. Voice dropping to an almost-pleading murmur, “Look, I just need you to pretend to be my doting, loving, charming, gorgeous-” backtracking at your withering glare, “...Anyway. I just need a fake wife for a few months, convince my family to get off my back about arranged marriage n’ carrying the Gojo legacy. Then bam! you stomp all over my heart, we divorce and I’m too heartbroken to ever get married again. Easy.” 

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

You bet Satoru’s disappointed groan echoed across all 23 words of Tokyo, because it was definitely ringing in your ears amongst whirlwind thoughts of marriage? To a yakuza? Completely, and utterly ridiculous. And from his talks of “carrying the family name” it seemed like he was some sort of future head as well. Though, he definitely wasn’t acting like it right now. 

“Alright. Plan B, then.” 

Oh? You couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t that much of a manchild as sits up from where he’d been splayed all over the table in tragedy. Lacing his fingers together before turning to your father, continuing in a more diplomatic tone, “But I want the cash you took. In full. Now. Gonna hafta disguise my best friend as my wife, n’ dresses for a six foot man aren’t cheap.”

Your mother looked like she could faint right then and there. Choking out a noise of surprise, “B-but we’ve deposited it all for the relocation- Please, can’t we pay any other-”

At the firm shake of his head, you stammer, “Now? Aren’t you some yakuza nepo baby, can’t you just ask your parents for money?”

“No.” Satoru chuckles, in a tone which told you that he probably could but might just lose his head for it. Only further supported as he muses, “Not unless I want a finger cut off for dealin’ money on the side. Seriously, sweetheart, why did you think I sent you the invitation last week?”

“Take me instead.” you father cries, trying to negotiate above Satoru’s half-joking mutters of “Ugh, I’m not into ol’ men dumb enough to sign yakuza contracts.”

It was all too much. You couldn’t take out the relocation deposit - it was a new start, possibly the only thing to save your family. Nor do you have enough in savings to pay back the loan. And if Satoru’s warning was anything to listen to, then you knew that dealing with the yakuza could be dangerous. Why you? Why you? Why you? 

“Fine.”

The moment that word leaves your lips, it’s like the whole world freezes. Everyone in the room - including yourself - unsure of whether they heard you right. “I’ll do it.” you clarify, voice hesitant but firm. Eyeing the way Satoru’s eyes begin to sparkle, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips. Raising a finger to shush your father’s protests, “But for a month, until we leave this place. After that m’going with my family and you’re never to contact us ever again. Deal?”

And oh Satoru seemed over the moon, reaching out to grasp your hand in a handshake - so warm, and softer than you’d imagined. “Swear on m’life, wifey. You can kill me if not.”

He was so intimidating - and intimidatingly exhilarating.

Only an hour more of arguing and a quick phone call later, men - yakuza, you assume - were flooding your family’s little diner. All tattooed and burly, looking somewhat comical as they carried your few packed-up suitcases outside. Well, at least they stayed for a late dinner. 

And ended up being witnesses to a very rushed, very rushed signing of marriage agreements. Evidence to really show up your alleged marriage. It barely even lasted a few minutes before, well, that was that - you were married, to the son of a yakuza head. 

You say a quick goodbye to your teary parents, soothing them with promises of “I’ll be back before you know it. One month. That’s all.” 

“And don’t worry about a thing,” Satoru sing-songs, coming up behind you. “If there’s anyone she’s safe with, it’s me.”

“You better keep your mitts off of my baby.” your father warns, raising the baseball bat still clutched in his hand menacingly. 

“I won’t lay a hand on her, father-in-law. And anyone that even thinks about it…” he cackles, breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll kill.”

Prancing off to hold the door of that shiny black Mercedes parked outside open for you. “Ladies first.”

With another quick hug to your parents, you hastily make your way inside. Feeling extremely out of place amongst the overly luxurious interior in your slightly-stained work uniform. God, the covers on these cushions themselves probably cost more than your house. 

“Like the car? I can buy you one. Or four, as a wedding gift.” Satoru grins. 

Oh, right. You weren’t in here alone - you were here with your new…husband. The word felt so strange to even wrap your head around, instead you turn to meet his easy smile. Clenching your jaw as you grit out, “So how do we act m-married?”

You swear he brightens up impossibly, scooting closer to you on the seat. Heart lurching as he raises his eyes to meet yours, dizzy with the heat of his proximity, he promptly pulls out his Notes app. 

“Well, you see. I forgot to send this with the invitation so you better memorize this before we get home.” flashing you a long, long list of likes and dislikes, “Here’s my favorite color and my favorite Digimon and-”

That car ride could not have been longer. Because in addition to arguing with Satoru about who the best Digimon was, you had to fill out your own version of his overly extensive list. “So we can be foolproof.” he’d whined. And you’d been so engrossed in the process that you barely noticed the looming estate out the window.

“We’re here, young master and madam Gojo.”

It took a second to register that the driver was talking to you as well as Satoru, immediately pushing your face against the window to take in the scenic site before you. Heavy wooden doors - probably taller than an average house - opening to reveal sprawling gardens. Koi ponds and rose bushes lining a pathway that led to a traditional Japanese house - all power and glory. You half wondered whether you were still in Tokyo. 

“Home sweet home.” Satoru grunts. “Such a beautiful hell, huh?”

Your home, for the next month. At least. 

And if you had any doubt that Satoru was in fact the future yakuza head, that all went out the window at the welcome you got. Men lining the wooden hallway, bowing at the waist while your all-new husband wraps a hand around your shoulders, pointing out the various rooms and ornaments as he led you in. 

“-and this is going to be our room.” he brings you in front of a large tatami room, one the size of your entire diner. 

“Ours.” you repeat. Walking unhurriedly to the king-sized bed in the middle - the only bed. Heart pounding as you take it all in. 

“Ours.” Satoru echoes, happily. And if he was any bit as affected as you are, then he doesn’t show it, instead pulling out a blue yukata from the closet, a golden Gojo emblem stamped on the back. Made with such a pretty, delicate fabric that it made you shiver to think how much it cost. “Now, I had these made jus’ for you last week. You can give me a lil’ fashion show tomorrow, so make sure you get some rest, wifey.”

It’s only when he says the word “rest” that you realize exactly how tired you are. Your long shift and the entirety of this having your eyes feeling heavier than usual. 

“Um…” you start, risking a glance at the bed. 

Satoru jolts, “Ah- don’t worry, sweetheart. You take the bed.” beginning to saunter outside to meet his team. “Got some work, so I’ll be sleeping in my office. Dream of me~”

And, really, you almost felt bad splaying yourself out on the crisp navy sheets. Sinking into the heady smell of fabric softener, and something so so Satoru. Addictive. Like an expensive cologne that made your head spin, one that wafted through your mind as you dreamt of summer weddings, and blue, blue skies.

“Ichiji.”

“Yes, young master.”

“See to it that the madam is safe. Anyone try anything funny and you bring them back alive. I wanna be the one to play with them, okay~?”

“Of course, young master.”

---

Admittedly, you probably have the best sleep of your life at the Gojo estate- or, it would’ve been if your husband didn’t burst in every morning at 7am. Handing you a ridiculously big bouquet of white roses, straight from the garden, before dragging you outside. 

Milling about the estate, Satoru was never too far behind, chattering away. Letting you hold onto his strong arm crossing the bridges, occasionally having you show up to yakuza meetings as his plus one. Relishing in the rumors spreading all through the yakuza syndicates in Tokyo. Gojo Satoru, and the commoner wife he’d do anything for.

Weirdly enough, some strange little part of you thinks he puts in a lot more work than necessary for some pretend relationship…

“I think that stupid plan is really working, y’know.” you muse to him after a few days of this. Dipping your fingers into one of your favorite koi ponds with a nod at the figures watching you from a distance - Gojo clan elders, you assume. “Those old coots hate being within a five mile radius of me.”

Satoru huffs out a laugh, “That so? S’probably the method acting then, huh? Taking good care of me, wifey?” he wiggles his eyebrows, nudging you from where he was holding an umbrella beside you. 

Furrowing your brows mockingly, “S’funny for you to say, they don’t even look at me. But they follow me around everywhere.”

“Do they annoy you, must I do my duty as a husband and gouge their eyes out?”

He…didn’t sound like he was joking. 

Rolling your eyes, you pointedly ignoring the way your heart lurches at the word “husband.” Still so jumpy at the idea. “Speaking of, your parents give up the marriage proposals, yet?”

At this, Satoru clenches his jaw. “Still nagging, but they’re finally considering you as my actual bride rather than some hijink.” he spits out, seemingly recalling whatever conversation they’d had before. “And they want to have some family ‘dinner’, but it’s going to be awful and you don’t-”

“Let’s go.” you interrupt, nodding determinedly. “The realer this marriage seems, the faster we can divorce, no?”

He blinks at you slowly, “That’s…true. For the divorce, then?”

“For the divorce.”

And, well, that was settled - you were to meet your new in-laws. The ever-elusive heads of the Gojo clan. Also one of the most powerful yakuza in all of Japan, but, semantics really.

You spend the evening cooped up with Satoru in the library, poring over the bloody history of the yakuza - with the Gojo’s heading them all. The only time he actually leaves your side is a few hours before the dinner. 

“For you.” he’d murmured, lips ghosting your ear, slipping something cold onto your finger. You look down to see one of the most beautiful rings you’ve ever seen - gold, with delicate blue and white diamonds encrusting it, cut in the shape of roses. “Can’t be married without a wedding ring, huh? Think of it as a good luck charm for tonight.”

And with that he’s swept away in a flurry of bodyguards and ruffled men, and you’re left standing there all alone. Cheeks burning, wondering how the hell he knew your perfect fit. 

You worry longer about the dinner than you spend actually preparing for it. Though, that’s probably because of the group of stylists that come into your room to help you dress. Wordlessly fussing around you despite your weak attempts at conversation, eyes averted. Almost like they were…scared of you. 

But there wasn’t much time to think of that - not when you’re being marched off in the direction of what you remember Satoru had called the family dining room. “More like a fuckin’ meeting room for those hardasses.” he’d snarked.

The moment you step in, all eyes turn to you - the only ones you recognize being Satoru’s, who immediately stands with a smile. “Ah, wifey! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” pulling you into a tight hug. His voice drops into a low, raspy murmur in your ear, “Ya look fuckin’ gorgeous in my colors, y’know.”

Traitorously, jolts of electricity run down your spine. Especially at how fucking gorgeous he looked in traditional wear. Whispering back, “Playing up the doting husband bit, huh?”

“Only for you.”

Pulling away, you drink in his dangerously handsome state. Hair so effortlessly styled, tattoos winking at you from just above his yukata - blue, to match yours. So pretty.

Stammering out, “Corny.”

“Only for-”

“Now that the girl is finally here, may we begin with dinner?” A stained voice sounds from behind Satoru, old and tinged with a tone that years of customer service told you did not bode well. Craning your head, you look over his broad shoulders, meeting the eyes of several disapproving elders. 

Shit. Some of the most dangerous people in this country right now. 

Gathered here - for you. 

Automatically, you knew which ones were his parents - painfully upright, and hauntingly beautiful in a cold, calculated way. Sat right at the head of the long table. With a jolt, you realize that you two are seated right opposite them. 

“So.” his mother starts, as you take your seat with a bow. Satoru doesn’t waste any time on niceties, plopping down right next to you, scooting closer than necessary. “Congratulations on the…wedding, my son.”

My son. You ignore the way both parents pointedly avoided looking at you. Your husband, however, does not. “What~ Not gonna wish my dear wife as well?”

It’s a silent staredown - one that has the entire room on edge. You don’t realize that you’re clenching your fists in tension until Satoru untangles them, slipping his larger hands into yours. Gaze still alarmingly intense and locked on the other side of the table.

He wins.

“Congratulations. Let us begin now.” 

You breathe out a sigh of relief, the tension only slightly broken as butlers stream into the room, carrying decadent trays of food. Well, at least the food might make up for how appalling this dinner is going to be.

It’s only 15 minutes in that you realize how very, horribly wrong you are - because the elders of the Gojo estate really don’t hold back, do they? Thank God you memorized every part of that stupid likes and dislikes list.

Besides picking apart every aspect of your relationship that they could manage to squeeze out of you between the appetizer and the main course, the main scrutiny tonight seems to be you. But in that icy, subtle way that has Satoru’s jaw clenching tighter each second. 

Lips curling, Gojo senior eyes you over his wine glass. “So, dear,” voice dripping with underlying venom despite the pet name. “Is it true our Satoru missed an esteemed marriage meeting with the Zenin group to ambush you at some rundown old diner?”

You fight to keep the smile plastered onto your face, painful and cracking under the pressure. A hand squeezing under the table to stop Satoru from opening his mouth to retort, you answer instead, “Well, ambushed wouldn’t be the word. You could say we fell in love over the counter - at my family’s diner.”

“A waitress, she said?”

“Now we know why it was this rushed. Probably pregnant.”

“The scandal. How far the Gojo name has fallen.”

The few stifled gasps from the other end of the table are so dramatic that you could almost laugh. But you don’t. Breath hitching as Mrs. Gojo chuckles, “Marrying the daughter of a lowly diner owner? How... quaint.”

“Mother, be quiet or-”

“What?” she throws her hands in exasperation. “Can’t I say anything around here. Honestly, Satoru, I’m just trying to make conversation with your new wife.”

Before either you or Satoru can react, his father speaks up, apparently not done with the interrogation. “You understand that we’re just worried, right, dear? Especially with marrying into prestigious families, of course.” The emphasis on “prestigious” is not lost on you.” And it drives you insane. 

Steeling yourself, you train your eyes on the untouched food below you. “I understand.”

Plowing on as if trying to infuriate you, “And you understand that this position is dangerous? You’ll be targeted.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Don’t be swept up in our Satoru’s charm and wealth, dear, my son just wants a way out of duty.” tone dripping with disdain, Satoru’s grip becoming tighter and tighter on yours. “The Gojo syndicate owns half of this city, we could bulldoze over that little diner of yours with only one phone call”

“My wife and I are leav-”

“I said I fuckin’ understand.” Your words hang in the air like a foul stench, and you raise your head to glare. If looks could kill, all the elders in this room would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on their graves already. “Neither me, nor my husband would ever let that happen because he knows a thing or two about respect, unlike you.” Lacing your fingers tighter with Satoru’s. “So shove your mighty family up your wrinkly asses. I don’t give a flying shit.” 

Eyes wide, jaws dropped, the old couple opposite you finally seems stunned into silence. And if it was any other situation you could’ve almost laughed at how similar they looked to Satoru when he found out you thought his proposal was a prank.

His father adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps that is so.”

Ah, if only the rest of the table would be quietened just as easily. 

“Not only is she a slut she’s a-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not even sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. Because in a split-second, the knife that was at your side is suddenly embedded, deep into the wooden table - barely even an inch away from the elder that had spoken up. 

“You’re lucky I’m matching with my wife n’ didn’t want to dirty this new yukata.” a voice sounds from your side. Melodic and so so eerie that you don’t realize for a second that it’s Satoru - your Satoru. 

He loops an arm under your legs as he stands up. Easily maneuvering you into a princess carry, forcing you to cling onto his robes for dear life as your feet dangle from the floor. You look up - maybe to snap at Satoru to put you down - only for the words to die in your throat at how absolutely fucking feral your husband looked. Eyes wide, aura menacing. A grin gracing his features, not the familiar one which had your heart racing, no - something so dangerous and cold. 

“Now,” he hums. Turning his back to the room, gaze still locked with the shocked heads inside, “My lovely wife and I will be retiring. Won’t you all say goodnight to your future madam?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the way everyone in that room mumbles out a disdainful little “Goodnight, ma’am.”, or the way Satoru cackles as he carries you to your shared bedroom. Laying you gently on the mattress with a quiet, “Be right back, sweetheart.”

What the fuck happened?

He could’ve killed that man. And looked like he wanted to. 

Your brain yells at you - run away run away run away- But you weren’t…scared? In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been less fearful in your entire life. Especially not when Satoru stumbles back into the room, clearly rushing. Something warm spreading in your chest at the trays of food in his hands.

“Dinner’s better without a bunch of fossils on my kill list.” he grins. Settling right next to you on the bed, setting out the dinner he’d brought for you. And, well, you didn’t doubt that they really were on his kill list. 

“Hey, wifey.” Satoru speaks up after a few moments of silence, satisfied with the food laid in front of you. “M’sorry for putting you through that. No more family dinners from now.”

You inch closer to lay your head on his sculpted shoulder, a hand bringing up the food to his pretty lips. He smelled so good, faintly like pine, and clouds. It made you so dizzy. “Eat, Satoru.”

That’s all which is said, because maybe that’s all that was needed. And for a second there, you almost forget that this is all pretend.

---

“Hey, uh- mister. You alright?” you call out, voice barely audible over the rain. 

The sullen figure didn’t react at first, soaked through and eyes trained on the ground. Unmoving, even when you hesitantly drew closer, umbrella quivering in your hands. 

You should turn around - walk away like everyone else on the sidewalk was doing. But no, something about the way he sat alone, stoic to the storm around him made you inch closer. “Here.” you hold out your umbrella. “S’our diner’s, but you look like you could use this more than I do.”

He jolts, as if hearing you for the first time. A flash of blue, so quick you almost think you miss it. Still not raising his head fully, the man’s snowy hair tousles as he jerkily closes around the handle. Pretty. And so so sad.

“It’ll be alright.” you nod. 

And with that, you turn, running back in the rain to the haven of the diner, where your father was waiting impatiently - he’d just bought the boxes to start packing up for relocation. Fingers still burning ever-so-slightly where his hand had brushed against yours. How strange, you wondered his name.

---

Satoru stayed true to his word over the weeks that followed. His parents seemed well and fully intent on avoiding you. And, well, other than a few disdainful remarks, the elders mostly scurried away in fear at your very sight. 

The only thing that made your skin prickle was that the housekeepers had a penchant for peeping in on the two of you. Increasingly following you - they always did, but now…honestly, it was a bit disconcerting. 

But other than that, it was almost…peaceful. You wake up every morning to a large bouquet of burgundy roses at your bedside table - and a husband. Because Satoru had taken to sleeping on the little couch at the corner of your room every night - saying something about not wanting to rouse suspicion because if he actually had a wife he’d be “taking her to bed every night”. Somehow, you didn’t doubt it. 

“Funny how it’s getting close to a month of being married, but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” you deadpan. Looking down at where he was resting his head in your lap, sprawled across the soft grass in the garden.

Something else also happened - something different.

Because Satoru was a bit touchier, a bit closer. Like right now, preening into your fingers carding through his soft hair. “Oh~? Why, wanna take me to bed, wifey?”

“You wish.”

“Maybe I do.”

Your hands still, pulse racing as your eyes bore into Satoru’s, trying to figure out what sort of bad joke this was. Subconsciously, you find yourself leaning down closer - too closer. Close enough that you could count every shade of blue in his hungry gaze. But by the grace of whoever was above-

“Young master, please excuse the intrusion but you have-”

Sitting up abruptly, addressing the newcomer in a stone-cold tone. “How many fuckin’ times have I not told you to never bother me when I’m with my wife?”

The servant bows apologetically, sputtering out apologies as you move to get up. Flashing a smirk at Satoru’s dramatic pout, “I have to catch up on some reading anyway. See ya, Satoru.” 

“Noo~ my sweetheart don’t leave me~” 

You stifle a laugh at his little tantrum, so different from when he was serious. He was so….dizzying. “You’ll be okay, Satoru.” Glancing up nervously to meet the servant’s intense stare, studying the scene before him, how different his master was. “I’ll be at the library now.”

And Satoru notices - of course, he does. He sees that tiny flash of concern in your eyes. One that you might not have noticed yourself. He lowers his voice as you walk away, so you don’t hear him speaking behind you. Words dripping with a similar venom he always heard from his parents, “Now, tell me who you’re spying for. Names, first and last.” 

Satoru doesn’t join you in the library that day, the first time in weeks. And you find yourself missing him more than you should. It’s dark out by the time you’re raising your head from the books, joints aching from poring over them for hours. The house seems a lot quieter. Somewhat bigger. 

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. 

Scratching the back of your head, you wander through the wooden hallways to your bedroom - wondering what was amiss. Your feet take you there as if on autopilot, thankful for Satoru’s meticulous tours. 

“Hey,” you smile softly at a servant making your bed, “Where are-”

Your question dies in your throat at the way she yelps at your words, hurrying down the corridor with a jerky bow. Weird. Leaving you all alone, and confused, muttering to yourself, it’s only then that you notice the flash of red by your bedside table. 

Not a bouquet. Only a single, red rose - a note tied around the stem, something you’d never gotten before. 

“The marriage proposals have been revoked, your contract is fulfilled, my ex-wife.”

Oh, reading that hurt more than it should’ve. You should be happy at being free, a few days earlier than expected at that - but it was over - just like that. You didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to leave him.You didn’t want to leave him.

 Were you going insane?

Clutching the flower like a lifeline, heaving out a sigh, “Maybe Satoru knows…”

“Thinking of me?”

Startled, you whirl behind to face your husband. In the dim-lighting, making out the stoney expression on his face, eyes wide and a little duller than they had been earlier today. 

“Satoru?”

His eyes light up at the mere sound of your voice - then you’re engulfed in him. Wrapping you in his arms, bowing his body into yours, so tight that it almost hurts. But you let him, fisting the fresh yukata in your hands - and that’s when you realize, he’s changed his robes since this morning. “Are you okay?” you whisper into his shoulder. Drinking in the smell of his cologne, and something faintly metallic. 

Every cell in your body is screaming at you to take the opportunity - to run away from this yakuza and his slaughter and whatever this was. But how could you? Staying rooted to the spot, not even a speck of fear.

Satoru heaves out a heavy breath, tickling the hairs at your nape as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Those nosy elders won’t be bothering you anymore, sweetheart. You’re free to go.”

A shudder runs down your spine at his words, and you didn’t want to think too hard about what they meant. Instead, you guide him to your bed - and, surprisingly, he allows you to. Letting the two of you sink into the plush mattress. With Satoru still in your arms. He repeats, “You’re free to go.”

Run away. Run away. Run away-

There it was again - that strained little manta. You stare right into his eyes, voice thick at the sinking feeling in your stomach. “My 30 days aren’t over yet.” 

“Leave. Please.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, like your hands drawing patterns down his back had broken some dam. “M’not a good man.” 

You press your lips to his forehead, searing and a desperate attempt to soothe the man. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I’m yakuza, sweetheart. Doomed to follow my parents here.” he mutters, strained and voice more unsure than you’ve ever heard. And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into your skin, “I hate it here, and you should, too. All these fuckin-”

“So go with me instead.”

“What if-”

“Toru.‘ you cut off his words, slurring and spilling out of his mouth. Gently, you pry him away from his little haven, reeling back to take a good look at the face he’s been hiding for so long. Hair mussed, curtaining his whirling eyes - all disheveled and vulnerable where he was once so suave. 

Your eyes bore into his, unwavering. “It’ll be alright, Toru.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. Only when his lips meet yours, soft, and so so sweet, do you realize that this is everything you ever want right now - possibly these past few weeks. “Y’can kill me if you don’ want his.” he mutters into your open mouth.  

It’s so desperate - a messy clash of teeth and saliva, Satoru was drinking you in like you were the last drop of water on Earth. He tasted so sweet, like candy almost, and the gentle caress of a lover. You were addicted like you could do this forever and ever and-

And then he’s pulling away. A disappointed little whine leaves you involuntarily as he parts, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the space between you two. Satoru’s mouth drops into a soft oh! at the noise, surging forward minutely like he was about to kiss you senseless again. Only to halt with a pained grunt, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. 

“M’sorry.” Claiming your lips once again, like a man possessed. Drinking in your breathless gasps. Like he never wanted to let go. “F-fuck, sweetheart. Y’don’t know how crazy you drive me.” he pants.

“Why did you pick me?” you blurt out, a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind every time Satoru slipped his hand in yours, introducing you as his loving wife. “Was it just the debt?”

He’s kissing your pulse now, canines hovering over the erratic little cadence. Breathing you in like you were intoxicating. “No.” he’s licking a long, languid stripe up your neck. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of skin he could reach. 

“Then why?” your words come out in almost an embarrassing plea. But by the way his breath hitches, you know that Satoru loves it. 

“Because.” he breathes, “You treated me like a human.”

He’s capturing your lips with his again, nipping at your bottom lips. You squeal as he pulls, suddenly wanting him to tease you like this everywhere. To have him absolutely ruin you like you know he could - treat you like the wife he claimed you were. 

But Satoru wasn’t done yet - far from it. He chuckles, kissing down your neck, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Remember that night? You probably don’t, was rainin’ so hard I thought I’d drown out there.” Worshiping the valley between your breasts as he hastily unbuckles your bra. “That night was when the marriage proposals had come in. They said I’d either carry the legacy or be forced to leave the family. Kicked out of my own home.” 

And you’re reeling from both his words and the way Satoru was rocking his hips into yours now, something hot, and so achingly hard pressing in the damp area between your legs. “Thought I was gonna take ‘em all out that night.”

“Take them all out?” your breath hitches.

“Every. Single. One.” Fingers dancing across the hem of your panties. “Wouldn’t have felt bad about it either.” 

Satoru’s licking down your navel now, humming in confirmation into your skin. “But then…” he groans, taking in the first fucking sinful sight of your drenched panties. So flimsy and already dripping for him - and after just a few kisses, really? You were heaven on Earth. “But then along came you. So pretty and all worried f’me. The daughter of that diner owner I’d loaned money too.”

You watch, heart racing as Satoru swallows in awe. Darkened gaze locked on the way your slick beads out of your pussy, bare thighs trying to close - give yourself some semblance of dignity. But no- how could you? When Satoru’s holding them apart.

“And then I knew…” he’s sliding his index underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertip before popping it into his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut at the taste, and you’ve never seen him look so blissful. “I just had to have you.”

Rip! 

The cold air brushes against you before you even know it - only when you feel Satoru’s hot breath against your dripping cunt does it hit - this bastard just ripped your panties off. And he was dangling it like a badge of honor, breathing in your juices so animalistically. 

Your lips wobble as he just admires your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. “Hah- please.”

“Please what?” he grins, and you can feel him licking little circles around your inner thigh. So close. “The wife of a yakuza boss has gotta know how to use her words.”

“You’re awful.”

“And yet you married me.”

With such a cute lil’ whine that makes Satoru’s cock twitch so painfully, you buck your hips closer to his hot mouth. “Wan’ your mouth on me, to eat me out. Please, Toru.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, “There’s my girl.”

You gasp when he surges forward, burying his pretty face nose-deep in your pussy. Holding your breath as he lazily licks up your folds - long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub. 

Drunk off your pussy with the way he’s so messy - seemingly unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor, ravaged clit to dipping into your sloppy hole. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You haven’t been touched this good in ages, and Satoru was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

“Shhh, don’t worry, wifey.” words muffled into your cunt, “Your husband’s gonna take care of you.” He’s throwing your legs over his broad shoulders.

“Real good care of you.” Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. Messy enough that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Roaming for that one spot he knows will have you moaning deliciously. Pressing down, hard.  “Found it. Gonna have you screamin’ my name til’ the entire estate hears.”

You tug on his hair, urging Satoru’s mouth towards your cunt - partially because you wanted him there, partially because you really needed him to shut up right now. 

And shit how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?

Satoru is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his pretty pink lips around it. Pumping his fingers in and out, hitting that little spot each and every time. Looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over and-

“Sh-shit. Toru-”

“Mmm, yes- fuck, love it when you call me that.” he groans. And oh he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you - eyes half-lidded, such a pretty blush disting his cheeks - and making out with your pussy just as much. Tilting his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Feels good? Ya like when m’ruining your pretty pussy?”

“Yes!” you squirm. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Wanted it s’bad.” 

He’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. But it wasn’t enough - it never was and fuck Satoru wanted more more more-

“Move your hips, yeah- jus’ like that.” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Letting you pull and angle him just as you please. 

“Gonna be the best fuckin’ husband you’ll ever have. N’ anyone that says otherwise, m’gonna fuckin’ kill.” The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Make you cum harder than y’ever have. C’mon, say yes.”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and bullying his tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal. “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes-”

“Beg for it, beg for your husband.”

“Wanna cum- Ah! Please, wanna cum, Toru.”

One hand so messy toying with your dripping entrance - not having the patience or the sanity to even draw circles anymore. Just quick, hurried patterns to get you off. The other digging into your hips, so hard you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. Making you drag your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. Using him. 

“Hngh- Toru! Ah- fuck fuck Toru Toru T-”  You’re shaking - crying out as you cum. A guttural, strangled moan of your husband’s name. So violent, and hard that you don’t even realize at first. Just that you’re rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears.

And he doesn’t stop - not even once. If you were in any better state of mind you’d wonder whether it hurt - whether his fingers were cramping up, and his tongue was tired. If they were, he didn’t show, only letting you chase your high as roughly as you want. 

Greedily lapping up all your juices. Even when you’re blinking your vision back, chest heaving as you try to regain our breath. “S-Satoru.” you mewl, stars behind your eyes with each flick of his tongue. 

“Jus’ a bit more. Wanna taste all of you.”

You weren’t going to make it out alive.

Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation as Satoru finally rises from what you almost worried would be his favorite seat. “All done. Now, keep that pretty lil’ cunt on display f’me, my girl.”

And your cunt is clenching in- fear? Anticipation? As your husband finally unties his yukata, letting it slide off those milky, toned shoulders. And shit he was such a fucking masterpiece. The dim-lighting bouncing off every curve and dip of those carved abs. Delicate swirls of his tattoo inching from his collarbone, down, down, down, hugging Satoru in a way that made you so half-lucidly jealous. All the way till the last inky thorn meets the neat tufts of white hair peeking up from the hem of his underwear. 

“Touch me.” he groans into your ear. The words barely leave those pretty lips before your hands are everywhere. Dancing down his tattoo, groping at this pecs - too much to worship, not enough time. 

“Toru…” you trail off, hand reaching out to brush his waistband. Tugging just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, fat tip weeping down his length, already so soaked in precum. He was so intimidatingly long - longer than anyone else you’d had before. Thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. 

And he sees right through you.

“Now now, none of that.” he tuts, pushing your bare thighs as far apart as they’d go. He spreads your cunt so shamefully with his thumb. Spitting once, twice. Some of it splatter against your thigh as Satoru mixes his saliva with your slick. “Don’t worry, wifey, m’gonna make it feel good for ya.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he drags his fat head down your folds. Wetting himself, all the preparation he was going to give you because fuck Satoru needed to be inside your pretty lil’ pussy right now. 

Then you feel like you’re being split apart - as if Satoru’s cock was pushing all the way to your lungs as he presses through the first ring of muscle.

“Ah! Ngh- Toru, s’too big!” you yelp, eyes locked on the way your lips were stretched so lewdly around his tip. Clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in, inch by fucking inch. No mercy. Absolutely none at all. 

And while he sounded like he was on cloud nine, you were having your head spin, torn between wanting to run away from his massive cock and just push yourself down for more more more. His lips claim yours - absolutely animalistic because God he needed to shut up your pretty whines or else Satoru was going to cum right here right now.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breath. Ngh- You can take it.” Satoru pants into your mouth, fucking into you in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to fit inside your snug cunt. Sounding like he was losing his sanity each time your heavenly walls milked him. “So fuckin’ tight. Jus’ relax f’me. Oh yeah, jus’ like that. You can take it you can-”

You gasp for air when he finally bottoms out inside you, tears streaming down your face and clawing at his back. 

Satoru only coos, letting you mark him up all you want. Pace increasing relentlessly, “Aww, my good lil’ wife. Taking me so well, huh?” Starting to rock his hips just a bit faster into yours, “Always knew y’would.” 

“Can y’feel me, right-.” Balls smacking against your ass, his finger tracing an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “-here?” Thumb stroking where he could feel himself bulging inside you, pressing down. Hard. 

You almost sob at the pressure, jolting - you should’ve expected that the yakuza boss would fuck so mean.

And shit you can just do nothing but take it, hips jerking wildly as Satoru pounds into you with reckless abandon. Clutching at his shoulders, the sheets, his hair - just anything. 

“C’mon~ Don’t run away from me,” he grunts, strained like he’s struggling to maintain restraint. Lacing his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper onto his cock. “Jus’ fuckin’ got you, so don’t you dare run away.”

You can only nod. Eyes glazed, cockdrunk and letting him thrust so sloppily. “Won’t run away Toru…” you babble, “Wan’ you to make me yours.”

“Mine? Gonna be all mine?”

“All yours, Toru.”

And maybe you were an idiot, maybe you were a mastermind - because with a choked out little moan of what sounded like your name, Satoru’s pulling you both to sit up. The gravity makes you bury his cock deeper and faster into your tight pussy.

With the new angle, your husband’s hitting all the right spots easily, almost as if he knew your body better than you did. Veins rubbing so deliciously against your walls, shifting around your hips to fuck up into that poor, abused spot. 

“Ya like this, huh?” he groans, fingers now toying with your ravaged clit. Rolling it around harshly between two fingers. “Always knew this cute pussy could take me s’well. Just didn’t know it would feel this fucking heavenly.”

Faster, sloppier. Bouncing you on his rock-hard cock  like he was claiming you from the inside. So, so desperate and debauched.

And exactly where you wanted to be. 

You leave delicate pink bites down this pale neck, alongside those roses - marking him in your own way as you edge closer and closer. It was too much. Everything was too much. 

“Toru-” you sob. And he already knew what that meant. With how your voice breaks so adorably and the way you’re clenching around him hard enough that it’s almost difficult to ruin that cute pussy. 

“Close?” 

“Mhm…”

“Well then.” thrusts getting sloppy, with no reason or rhythm now. Grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Cum f’me like a good lil’ wife, then.”

And that makes you throw your head back in ecstasy - it makes you cum. Thighs quivering, jolts of electricity running down all the way from your overstimulated cunt to your hazy mind. It has you chanting Satoru’s name like a lifeline while his teeth dig into your flesh. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood.

Letting out low, muffled moans into your neck while he cums as well. Hot ropes of seed filling up your poor, bloated pussy, painting your walls such a sinful white. Cumming and cumming so hard you wondered whether you’d make it out alive.

And because of the obscene position, you could feel the way it dribbled down your legs. Thick globs landing in a pool on the overpriced sheets below, smearing so lewdly between you two. Hips still fucking up into you - not even thinking about it as he pushes his seed deeper and deeper. 

You managed to raise your eyes, still dazed to meet his - exhausted, and dark with lust and something else that you really weren’t in the right mind to decipher right now. 

And then Satoru’s lips find yours again, biting and tugging lazily. Tasting so unfairly of candy and sweet, sweet trouble. Body melting into you like all the worries have been lifted from his shoulders. He’s looping his arms tighter around your waist, crushing you into an almost-painful hug against him. 

Something soft. Something new. Something that makes a little part of your heart twinge to break the kiss and pull away mere millimeters. “We better not divorce after this.”

“Of course not.” He chuckles into your lips, resting his forehead against yours like he was trying to map the constellations in your eyes. “I haven’t even given you my wedding gift yet.”

Smirking, you lock your legs tighter around Satoru’s toned waist as he lets the two of you fall back into the mattress. Sinking into it - and each other - with both exhaustion and something of a quiet, unspoken little fondness. Batting your lashes up at him, “Mhm, I remember someone talking about giving me four mercedes as a wedding gift and I’m leaving if not.”

“Well then, better get to it. Four for my in-laws to get on their good side, too,” he nuzzles the bite mark on your neck. “Because I plan to stay like this for a long, long time.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me

dbf!Joel x f!reader

The first TLOU fic I ever read was a dbf!Joel story and it left an indelible mark on my soul. Unfortunately, I never bookmarked it so I have no idea which one it was. It's only natural that I had to try my hand at one at some point. So, here we are.

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 4.1k

Series Warnings: Mature to start, but will ultimately be Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. There will be angst, drama, fluff, humor, romance, smut... basically, the works. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname from her dad, which will be explained at some point.

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Chapter One: The Day That I Met You

If you asked him over a decade ago where he’d be now, Joel Miller would not have placed himself as a single father to a tenacious pre-teen desperately trying to keep things afloat. He spent too many hours in the week working to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. He would be lost without the help of his brother and the few friends he had. He had no social life to speak of and could not for the life of him remember the last time he went on an actual date.

No, back then, Joel thought he’d be living the good life in ten years’ time – traveling, going out with the boys, maybe have a girlfriend or wife. Basically, just getting to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Don’t get him wrong, though. He was still living a good life; it just was a different sort of good than what he hoped for back in the day.

He loved his daughter with every fiber of his being. Sarah was the best damn thing that ever happened to him, his entire world, and he wouldn’t change the past ten years for anything. He bent over backwards doing whatever it took to make his little girl feel cared for, happy, and loved. He just wished there was a little energy left for something for himself at the end of the day.

Joel Miller was drained. Mentally, physically, and emotionally.

He awoke with a groan as the bright sunlight broke through the gap in his curtains. It was Saturday – his birthday – and he hoped to sleep in, at least a little. Between the brightness of the morning and the stifled sounds of clanging pans and voices carrying up the stairs from his kitchen, sleeping in was not happening.

He hauled himself out of bed with a groan worthy of a man twenty years his senior and stretched out his limbs to ease the achiness in his bare back and chest from too much manual labor. Throwing on a pair of well-worn sleep pants and a faded tee shirt, Joel slipped from his bedroom and down the stairs. He moved rather quietly for a man of his size, stealing a moment to lean against the entryway into the kitchen and watch as Sarah and Tommy worked together making breakfast.

The counters were a mess of spilled pancake mix, eggshells, and… was that coffee dripping over the edge and onto the floor? It was a toss-up on who made the bigger mess, his ten-year-old daughter, or his grown ass brother. Still, Joel could not stop the smile spreading across his face as he watched them laughing and teasing each other. That, right there, was the reason he worked so hard, why the loneliness was worth it.

When Tommy flipped the stovetop off, Sarah turned to find her dad smiling goofily at them. “Happy Birthday, Dad!” she exclaimed, launching herself at his chest. Her lanky arms wrapped around his neck as he lifted her off the ground in a big bear hug.

“Thanks, baby girl,” Joel replied, pressing his lips to her forehead in a quick kiss before he settled her feet on the ground.

“We made you breakfast!” Sarah declared, gesturing toward the disaster zone formerly known as his kitchen.

“I see that,” he chuckled, voice still slightly rough with sleep.

Tommy turned with a smirk, hands grasping two plates filled with bacon, eggs, and pancakes. “Take a seat, brother. Let us take care of you on your birthday.” Placing the food on the small dining table, Tommy roughly patted his brother’s shoulders. “Don’t worry ‘bout the mess, I’m on cleanup duty after we eat.”

“We expectin’ company? That’s a helluva lot of food,” Joel grumbled. He needed coffee, stat.

“Yeah, JB is comin’ over to see ya before heading to the airport. His daughter finished grad school over the summer and is moving back home.” Tommy set more food and a full mug of dark roast coffee in front of his brother. The scent alone made Joel perk up a little.

The Millers hadn’t met you yet, having only become friends with your dad through work after you’d already left for college on the east coast. Your dad had a good decade on Joel, but he and the Miller brothers got on like a forest fire from what he told you. With visits home always short and rushed, busy catching up with family and your own friends, there was never time for your dad to introduce you all. Now you were coming home for good and would have plentiful opportunities for spending time with your dad and his friends.

“Speak of the devil,” Tommy muttered as the doorbell rang. Sarah bounded to the door to greet your dad with a hug. In many ways, the girl reminded him of you when you were young, and it always brought a smile to his face.

“There he is! The man of the hour. Happy Birthday, buddy!” Your dad, John, or JB as the Millers called him, ruffled Joel’s already mussed hair, leaving a few locks standing straight up in further disarray. Pulling a 12-pack of beer from behind his back, your dad set it on the table in front of Joel, topped with a little red bow. “I gotcha a lil’ something to celebrate.”

“Good man,” Joel replied with a chuckle. “Have a seat and help me eat all this. Tommy just told me your lil’ girl is coming home, finally.”

Your dad’s face lit up even more at the mention of you coming home. “She’s not so little anymore, but I sure am glad she’s moving back here. Said she had enough of the east coast, but I think she just missed her ol’ man.” After wolfing down some food, he added, “Think we could host a small barbecue here this coming weekend to celebrate? Your backyard is way nicer than mine and you got the pool and all.”

“Not to mention that fancy ass grill,” Tommy chimed in.

Swallowing a long sip of his morning go juice, Joel nodded. “Of course. Invite whoever you want. I’m looking forward to finally meeting your daughter.”

“Me too!” Sarah added. She heard a lot about you from your dad and hoped you were as cool in person as he made you out to be.

Joel’s mind started spinning upon hearing his daughter’s excitement. With her school hours being so different from his typical work hours, he was spending a small fortune on after school care for Sarah. She was still too young for him to leave home alone, especially on those days where he’s stuck late at a job. He was barely scraping by as it was and couldn’t really afford the cost of after school programs. Perhaps…

“JB, ya think your daughter would mind watching Sarah during the week while she’s home. Drop off and pick up from school and keeping her company ‘til I get home from work? I could pay her – it wouldn’t be much, but better than nothin’, I imagine.” He watched Sarah’s eyes light up at the suggestion and knew it was a good choice.

“I’m sure she’d love to. She wasn’t planning on finding a real job until after the holidays, so I know she’ll be free during the day,” your dad replied. “I’ll talk to her about it on the ride back from the airport and let you know.”

Three suitcases and a carry-on bag. That’s all you had left from six and a half years of pursuing higher education in North Carolina. You sold or gave away anything that did not fit into your luggage or hold sentimental value of your time away. Now, you were moving back home to save some money before you had to start chipping away at the mountain of student loan debt you accrued.

You loved learning, always have, but you were relieved to be done with school. Equipped with a bachelor’s degree in earth sciences and a master’s in education, you felt like a real adult ready to take the world of middle school by storm… well, starting after the new year, maybe. For now, you needed several months of limited to no responsibility to recoup your mental and physical energy. That last couple years of school really burned you out. Not to mention the last-minute rejection of a teaching position you thought was in the bag…

Anyway, you were better off leaving North Carolina behind and returning to Austin. You missed your dad something fierce and his particular brand of caring for you was exactly what your weary soul needed. It was you and him against the world, just like when you were a kid.

You flight was smooth and uneventful, yet you were relieved to deboard the plane. Something about being stuck in a tin can at the mercy of someone else’s ability to keep the thing from plummeting to the ground really aggravated your anxiety. Flying was something you would never enjoy; it was merely a means to an end when you wanted to travel long distances.

The journey to baggage claim was a slog with the crowd of passengers all heading to the same place. You were wondering how you’d wrangle three large suitcases by yourself when you caught sight of your dad. His broad smile took over his face when he spotted you, rushing over to sweep you up in a big bear hug.

“Hey Spud, how was the flight?” he asked as you waited for the baggage carousel to begin moving. “Looks like it was a full plane.”

“It was, but the flight was good. I’m really glad to be home.”

“Me, too, kid.”

You settled into a comfortable silence, watching various pieces of luggage pass by on the carousel. Your bags were scattered, and you had to wait several cycles to get all of them. Your dad lugged the final suitcase over the carousel with a grunt. “Jesus, what you got in this one? Bricks? A body?”

“That one has my gaming system and half a closet full of clothes,” you replied with a laugh.

Before long, everything was loaded into your dad’s truck, and you were heading back towards town. The radio hummed at a low volume as you both chatted about everything and nothing all at once.

“Hey, so I know you said you weren’t looking for full-time work until after the new year, but I have a proposition for you.” Your dad’s eyes stayed focused on the road, and you merely quirked a brow waiting for him to continue. “My buddy Joel – you know the one I told you about? Well, his daughter is ten and he needs some help with the school run and after school care. Our work hours aren’t exactly the same as elementary school, you know?”

You nodded, remembering all the times your dad spoke to you about Joel, as well as his daughter and brother. Despite never meeting them, you felt like you already knew their whole life story. “So, he’s looking for a nanny or something? I could do that. It would keep me from getting lazy while I navigate getting my Texas teaching certificate.”

Your dad grinned, one hand patting your leg. “I was hoping you’d say that. Joel will pay you, of course, but just… don’t expect much. It ain’t easy for him being a single dad trying to keep everything afloat.”

Again, you nodded, a soft smile creasing your lips. You knew all too well how challenging it could be for single parents, having grown up with just you and your dad. Much like what your dad told you about Joel’s experience with the mother of his child, your mom split when you were barely a toddler. Things weren’t always sunshine and roses, but your dad sure did his best to make sure you had a great life. Honestly, you wouldn’t trade it for the world, that life with your dad. You had a feeling it was much the same for Joel and his daughter.

“I’m happy to help, even if he doesn’t pay me. I’m sure his daughter will enjoy having a female influence in her life if nothing else. What’s her name again? Sarah?”

Your dad’s eyes twinkled with pride. “Yup, that’s it. I’m proud of the woman you’ve become, Spud.”

A mist of tears prickled your eyes as you mumbled out a “Thanks, dad.” After a beat, you added, “Must you keep up with that nickname?”

“Of course. You’ll always be my little Spud,” he laughed as you rolled your eyes. “Oh, by the way, we’re going to the Millers on Saturday for your welcome home party.”

“What’s all this?” Joel questioned as Tommy and Sarah placed a heavy, wrapped package on the table before him along with a few smaller presents. The remains of a birthday cake sat nearby, having been delightfully devoured by the Millers while celebrating Joel’s birthday.

“Just a little somethin’ from me and Sarah,” Tommy replied, a boyish grin alighting his handsome features.

Joel gazed between them with curiosity. Not big on celebrating his own aging, he rarely got big gifts. “You wanna help me open this, nugget?” Sarah’s eyes lit up, small hands reaching to tear the wrapping paper into shreds. It only took a few moments for the contents to be revealed, leaving Joel confused at the modern contraption sitting in front of him. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“You play video games on it, dumbass.” Tommy harumphed as he began a diatribe on the features of the gaming system – he had one just like it at his place and it provided hours of entertainment when he didn’t feel like going out. “I figured it would be a good hobby for you since you never want to join me in going out.”

“Huh,” Joel grunted in return, brows furrowed as he read the instructions on how to setup up the machine. His attention was diverted by Sarah shoving the smaller parcels into his lap.

“Here, dad! These go with it.” Together, they tore into the wrapping paper to find several video games, a few of which were family friendly. The final gift was a spare controller for the gaming system so he and Sarah could play together.

Despite still being unsure that the gift was a good fit for him, Joel was grateful to Tommy for the effort. “This is too much, man. You shouldn’t spend this kind of money on me, Tommy.”

His brother waved him off. “I found a great deal and you never get anything for yourself, brother. You deserve something to indulge in. Believe me, you’ll have fun with this.”

The rest of the evening was spent with Tommy setting up the system and showing the father-daughter duo how to play some of the games he picked out. The living room filled with lots of laughter and teasing, and Joel found himself really getting into the fun of the video games.

After tucking Sarah into bed, Tommy showed Joel a game that was too violent for the little girl but entertaining for the men. The game was set in Washington DC which had been ravaged by a brutal pandemic and the main character was part of a group of agents fighting off nefarious gangs trying to take over the city. Joel caught onto the gameplay quickly and the two men found themselves building the loadout for Joel’s character, taking out bad guys, and chatting well into the night.

At two in the morning, the pair looked at each other with bleary, red-rimmed eyes and finally called it a night. Joel directed Tommy to crash in the spare room as he shuffled off to bed upstairs.

It didn’t take you long to get settled into your dad’s house. It wasn’t the home you grew up in and you only visited a few times after he bought it. After years living away on your own, you thought it would be an adjustment being under his roof again, but it wasn’t. He understood the need for personal space and never hovered unless you were hurt or sick. He gave you the downstairs bedroom – it was the largest in the house, with an ensuite bath and huge walk-in closet.

“Dad, no! Why in the world is this not your room?” you questioned when he placed your bags on the brand-new, king size bed he had delivered the week prior.

“Hell no, Spud. What do I need all this space for? I like the upstairs rooms better – the light is all wrong in this one anyway.”

You looked around, holding in a giggle. The room faced south, giving you just the right amount of natural light all day. That’s what your dad didn’t like. He preferred to live like a bat in a cave with blackout curtains and limited lighting.

“Alright, well, I love it. The natural light is perfect for me. I can actually put some plants on the windowsills. Thank you!” You kissed his cheek as he left you to get settled.

You spent the week rearranging the bedroom how you wanted it, setting up your gaming system, and putting all your clothes into the walk-in closet. Your dad hadn’t done much with the room other than furnish it, so you made a few trips to the store to get a bathroom set, floor lamps, and wall décor to make the room your own.

Before you knew it, Saturday morning dawned bright and warm. The day of your welcome home gathering arrived, and you would finally get to meet the Millers. An excited energy had you moving about your space in a flurry, tidying up and getting ready early. You’d seen some photos of the Millers that your dad sent you – Sarah was adorable with her dark, springy curls, and Joel… Joel was handsome, in a broody, overworked kind of way, with dark, riotous curls and big, warm chocolate eyes. Kind eyes, you called them.

“Hey Spud, you ready?” your dad called from the kitchen as you put the finishing touches on your hair. It was pinned up, leaving the smooth skin of your neck bare. The sundress you picked hugged your curves in just the right way, falling just at your knees in a flow of lightweight material. In early October, Austin was still hot, and you hoped the Millers’ yard was shaded.

“Bring a swimsuit! They have a pool!” he yelled as you grabbed the last of your things. Turning back to your closet, you grabbed a dark green one-piece suitable for family-friendly swimming and tucked it into your bag.

“I’m ready!”

Your dad smiled at the sight of you. “Let’s go then. We’re heading over early so you can officially meet the Millers and we’ll help them setup before everyone else arrives.”

“Sounds good. Who all’s coming anyway?” Your eyes widened as your dad rattled off a list of people he invited, including his work buddies and some of his and Joel’s neighbors. He would have invited some of your old friends from high school, but you all lost touch over the years. The party was turning out bigger than you thought. Your heart swelled with how happy your dad was to have you home for good.

The Millers lived in the same neighborhood, only a few blocks away, so close you could have walked if not for the scorching sun. The drive took only a few minutes before your dad pulled into the driveway of a two-story home similar to your dad’s, with simple landscaping and two wooden rocking chairs on the wide porch. Lovely and quaint, the house made you more curious about the people who lived there.

“Dayum! Get a load a JB’s daughter, Joel,” Tommy called from the living room, leaning over the couch to look out the front window. “She’s smokin’ hot!”

“Dammit, Tommy. Stop spying on ‘em,” Joel growled, sneaking a peek over his brother’s shoulder to do a little hypocritical spying of his own. Breath caught in his throat at the sight of you and he couldn’t break his gaze away, even as JB led you toward the front door.

“What was that about spyin’, brother?” Tommy teased, practically dragging Joel away from the window as a knock sounded against the door. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it.”

Tommy opened the heavy wooden door revealing the pair of you standing there, matching bright eyes and wide grins greeting him. “Well, hello there, beautiful. I’m Tommy.” Reaching a hand toward you, Tommy completely ignored JB, who just scowled at him.

“Nice to meet you, Tommy,” you replied, offering him your hand and name in return. Joel’s scowl matched your dad’s expression as Tommy held your hand for several beats too long.

“Back off, Tommy,” your dad grunted, swatting at the younger Miller brother. “This here is Tommy’s brother, Joel. The one who actually owns this house and the better Miller, if you ask me.”

“Ain’t no one askin’ you, old man,” Tommy’s smart mouth shot back at your dad.

Joel ignored both men, eyes like dark pools as he gazed at you, awed at how small and delicate your hand felt in his. “Howdy, darlin’,” his voice rumbled from his chest. “Come on in. There’s someone else lookin’ forward to meeting you.”

Leading the way through the kitchen into the backyard, Joel felt the heat of your gaze burning his back. Were you checking him out? There was no way. You were beautiful and likely in your early twenties. He felt ancient, though he was only in his early thirties, the hard labor of construction work having taken its toll on him.

“Hi Dad!” a young, sweet voice called from a small swing set where a precious little girl entertained herself. “Who’s this?”

Joel introduced you to his daughter, leaving the two of you to get acquainted as your dad called him away.

“You were away at college?” Sarah questioned, motioning for you to take a seat on the swing next to hers.

“I was,” you replied. “But I’m back for good now.”

“That’s good. What grade did you get to? I’m in fourth grade.”

You thought about it a moment. “I guess it would be 18th grade. But you stop counting grade numbers after 12th and start using different words to describe what year you’re in during college.”

Sarah listened raptly while you explained the different terms, what you studied in school, and what kind of job you were hoping to get.

“You want to be a teacher?” she asked, awed.

“I do! I want to teach middle grade science.”

“I love science! Maybe you could be my teacher when I get to sixth grade!”

Joel returned with your dad and Tommy in tow to find you and Sarah having a blast. The little girl sat in your lap as you kicked your feet out, swinging as high as you could, singing some camp song you remembered from your youth.

“See? Told ya she’d love to spend time with Sarah,” your dad said to Joel. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, staring at the two of you with a glazed look in his dark eyes.

Shaking himself off, Joel turned to your dad. “Guess I better work out some details with her.” He stepped over to the swing set, taking a seat on the empty swing and hoping to the heavens above that it held his weight. He struggled internally on how to start the conversation and was just about to blurt something out when his amazing daughter saved the day.

“Dad! She wants to be a teacher! A science teacher! Isn’t that cool? Did you ask her about watching me yet? I think she’d love to.” Sarah rambled on excitedly, amusing you and Joel. Turning to you before Joel could chime in, Sarah turned to you with baby cow eyes, adding, “You would love to, right?”

How could you ever resist that look? No one could. Both you and Joel were powerless as you nodded, and the offer became official. Cell numbers were exchanged and before you knew it, you had a job starting Monday.

Hours later, slightly drunk on spiked fruit punch and buzzing with energy, you thanked Joel for hosting the barbecue and giving you a job. You kissed his stubbled cheek, forcing thoughts of how attractive he was as far down as they could go. You could not develop a crush on your boss. “I’ll see you Monday morning, bright and early!” you declared before following your dad through the front door.

TBC

[silentsamlikesham]

Go To Bed

Request from @luffys-little-sister-lyloa ! I'm so sorry this took so long and I kind of...ran a bit wild with it! Apologies if you wanted this pre-established I just started writing it and I ended up with angry confused boys...Hope you enjoy <3 Wordcount: 4,845 -------------------------------------------

The crew is a mess. After the last island, most of them are confined to their beds. Their injuries range from painful breaks to almost fatal wounds. Sanji had spent the last two days being one of the four crewmates able to do anything. Chopper, Brook and Zoro being the other three. 

They'd gotten separated on the last island and hadn't faced as much as the others. Sanji had been thrown from a cliff, unconscious while most of his crew was being beaten to an inch of their lives. 

He lets out a yelp as the spoon in his soapy hand bends, and then snaps in two. He drops it on the counter, carefully examining his hand to see if he'd bruised or nicked himself. 

Fuck. 

This is not the time to hurt himself, to draw any attention to himself. He needs to get these dishes clean. He needs to start on dinner. He needs to make snacks to help with recovery. He needs to clean the galley- no, the ship. The whole ship is a mess. He can't have his crew recover in this filthy environment. He needs to do a stock check. Do they have enough of everything? Is there enough food? When can they even risk docking again? 

The hot water sears his skin as he dips plate after plate in, scrubbing them until his fingers feel only smooth porcelain, until the dried lumps of food are washed away entirely. He cleans one after another, the pile diminishing slowly as he moves to dry and place them away at the same time. 

His legs ache from running, his whole body is bruised from his fall, a headache buzzes just behind his eyes, but he can't stop. He doesn't need to rest; the others need to rest. He needs to be useful, to fucking do something.  

He didn't do anything on the last island. 

The last dish lands in the cabinet with an echoing clank. Sanji doesn't even pause as he moves for a cloth, washing down the counters of the kitchen. His elbow complains, his shoulder cries in pain as it stretches and the inside of Sanji's cheek bleeds as he gnaws away at it. 

The sharp pain is enough to distract him. He just needs to focus. 

He brings damp cloths down to the infirmary next, wiping the sweat from his crewmates that have passed out. He stays with Robin who has woken up for a bit. He reads some of her book to her, barely keeping his eyes open as he speaks as clearly and quietly as he can. 

She nods off to sleep moments before Sanji is coming close to joining her. He rubs at his eyes, pressing his palms harshly against them. The light from the hall shows dark stars dancing around Sanji. The veil of sleep creeping into his vision. 

He ignores the call. There’s still so much to do. 

He finds himself standing in the pantry, wondering how he got here. He must have walked. Why doesn't he remember walking? 

He stares at the boxes and finds there's a notebook in his hand. Right. He'd grabbed it from his locker. 

He pockets it, grabbing the first box of fresh food. He needed to deal with these first, check for mold, plan the next meals around them. He drops them on the kitchen table and jumps as the table rocks against him.  

Why did that surprise him? 

He opens the lid, ignoring how clunky and strange his hands feel. The lid slides off the bench beside him and onto the ground. Sanji goes bright red from how harshly he jumps at the noise. 

He feels drunk. Is this some belated effects of his head injury? 

He shakes his head, feeling no shots of pain. He must be fine. He's just tired. His body is tired after two days, that's all. But that's fine, fine, fine, fine. His mind is sharp. He can still help. He can still work. He can't sleep anyways. Not with so much to do. 

He just needs to count, to write figures down, some basic maths and move around some heavy boxes. That's nothing. It's nothing compared to what he did in the Baratie. Heck, he usually has to do this work fighting off a hungry Luffy. 

This is easy. 

Zoro wanders into the galley. He'd been asleep on the deck for most of the day, having taken watch during the night. He'd been vaguely aware of what the crew had been up to, had heard Sanji moving between the galley and the crew, had heard Brook playing his violin from the crow’s nest and had been annoyed several times by Chopper to have his bandages changed.  

He assumed Sanji and Chopper had headed to bed. He's meant to take over Brook's watch soon. It's best that the doctor and their second-best fighter, currently upright, are free during the day. 

Keeping that in mind, Zoro finds himself blinking slowly in the doorway of the galley. His plan was to grab something strong and head to the crow's nest. He's not expecting Sanji to have forgotten to blow out the lanterns, to have left so much out on the table. He's not expecting Sanji to be standing hunched over a notebook, his visible eye flicking between several open crates and his hand moving aggressively across the open page. 

Usually, Sanji would notice Zoro right away. The cook had a sixth sense for people trying to enter his space and he was usually greeted by an insult by now, or a yell to get the fuck out. But the Cook hasn’t noticed him. He seems engrossed in his task.  

Zoro watches him from the doorway. The lanterns cast a sharp shadow across the blonde’s face and it’s easy to see the dark circles under his eyes, the fresh litter of bruises that colour his forearms visible from where he’s rolled up his sleeves. He’s sitting hunched for once, always one to keep a good posture, no matter how sore or tired he seems. His hair is greasy, almost sticking to the side of his face where it usually rests, rather than hanging there.  

All of these are signs that something is wrong, but what really makes Zoro worry is when he takes a few more loud steps into the room. The Cook jumps, caught off guard, and his eyes flick groggily to Zoro.  

“What do you want?” Sanji’s tone is flat, he doesn’t use a nickname or an insult. His cheeks flush pink, like he’s flustered, like he knows he’s been caught out. 

“A drink.” A quiet pause stretches, and Zoro feels a twist in his stomach. The request usually brings out a raging fire in the form of the other’s temper. But Sanji just waves a hand towards the liquor trolley, his eyes flicking back to his work. 

“What are you doing?” Zoro ignores the invitation to take what he wants and instead wanders over to the table. He receives a half-hearted glare for it but takes it as a win when Sanji just sighs and tosses some fruit back into a box. 

“Stock check.” 

“Oh. Is it...okay?” Zoro knows nothing about keeping track of food, beyond knowing what goes off quick on a pirate ship. He couldn’t fathom how Sanji keeps it all in check. He tries to glance at the ledger the cook is scribbling in, but the writing is swirly and looped tightly together and Zoro can’t make any of it out in the dim light. 

“We’re fine.” Sanji flinches when Zoro looks sharply at him, the swordsman catching the wobble in his voice, the dread that seeps in because Sanji isn’t certain himself. They have enough food for a while, for at least a couple of weeks. But there’s a hunger gnawing at Sanji, a tension in his clenched fists that says otherwise. He just can’t convince himself that he hasn’t screwed this up. That he won’t wake up tomorrow and find half of their rations gone. 

“Good.” Zoro doesn’t argue, doesn’t ask why Sanji seems to be trembling, his leg tapping furiously off the ground. “Then you should go to bed, I can put these away.” 

Zoro waves a hand at the few crates still left sitting on the table. Sanji looks at them like he’s seeing them for the first time before his expression hardens again, a scowl directed at Zoro. 

“No, you’ll put them back wrong. It’s fine, I’ve some other stuff to do anyways.” 

Zoro’s tilts his head and looks at Sanji like he’s lost it. Sanji drags his chair back, standing up and glaring at Zoro. 

“What? Go on your watch, Marimo. You’re pissing me off.” 

“No.” 

“No?” Sanji squints at Zoro in the low light, staring at him like he’s grown a second head.  

“You haven’t slept, have you?” Zoro folds his arm. He reminds Sanji of some disapproving parent.  

“What the fuck is it to you, shithead?” Sanji does not have the mental capacity for an argument right now. He needs to get the crates away and then...then he’ll tidy...he’ll clean something. 

“You look like shit.” 

“Wow, thanks.” Sanji scoffs, ignoring the idiot to pick up the first crate. 

Zoro doesn’t let it go. Not when he notices how slow Sanji is moving, how sluggish he is as he tries to find a grip on the box. Without hesitation Zoro slams a hand on the crate, banging it back onto the table  

“What the fuck, Marimo?” 

“I said, you’re going to bed.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“I mean it.” 

“I don’t take orders from you.” Sanji scoffs, dropping the box to grab the opening of Zoro’s green jacket and tug him close enough that Zoro can feel spit hit his chin.  

“Captains out cold.” Zoro growls, grabbing Sanji’s wrists, their gazes locking into their usual heated glare. “That means I’m in charge.” 

“Bullshit.” Sanji scoffs. Since when has Zoro ever taken charge? 

“Mutiny, Cook?” Zoro grins, knowing the best way to handle this is to get the blonde riled up enough to comply.  

“You can’t just order me to go to sleep.” Sanji narrows his eye and attempts to pull back, but Zoro keeps him close refusing to drop his wrists. 

“I just did, Ero-Cook.”  

Sanji let out a long breath through his nose, his frustration building. 

“Let go.” 

“Go to bed.” 

“Why do you fucking care?” Sanji snaps, his composure in tatters as he realises he’s shaking. Like he can feel his whole body shaking. It’s the kind of embarrassing energy that makes Sanji want to lash out or cry. He’s not about to cry in front of Zoro of all people.  

His leg is swinging before he can think to aim or put any real power behind it. He can’t twist his hips much while being held in place, so he ends up with a weak swipe at Zoro’s shoulder. 

The swordsman drops one of Sanji’s wrists to block the kick. Instead of knocking it away, he loops his arm under Sanji’s knee and holds tight. 

“Bed.” 

“Die.” 

“Why are you so stubborn!” Zoro groans, dropping Sanji’s leg so he can grab the man by the shoulders and gently shake him. 

“Why are you acting like my sleep schedule is any of your business.” 

“Because it is!”  

“As if, Marimo. Since when do we care about each other?” 

“I’m the first mate, it’s my job to look after the crew.” 

“Well, I’m perfectly fine so why don’t you worry about the ones actually injured?” 

“You’re shaking, dart brows.” 

“It’s cold in here!” Sanji cringes at his own retort, knowing it’s bullshit. The galley is always the warmest room on the ship and tonight was humid, the air stale outside.  

“Liar.” 

“Fuck off!” 

“You seriously have the energy for this right now?” Zoro groans, letting go of Sanji’s shoulders to wave his hand angrily in front of his face. “What is so goddamn important it can’t wait until tomorrow? Do you not get we’re the only two that can properly protect the ship right now? I don’t need to be worrying about you too. So, stop acting like a selfish brat.” 

The words stung. They cut deeper into Sanji’s soul than anything else the pair have ever thrown at each other. Of course, he understood what was happening. He was ready to beat the crap out of anyone that came near the ship right now. Selfish? Was it selfish to want everything perfect for the crew? Was it selfish to want to make up for how useless he was before, to make it up to his crewmates who couldn’t even lift their heads right now? Did Zoro not get this is all his fault? That he’s meant to be like this now, suffering. 

For a haunting moment, Sanji is certain he’s going to burst into tears. His eyes are burning, he can feel a lump in his throat, knows if he speaks again his voice will crack and break. He’s so tired, so fed up with the way his mind is spinning the same thoughts around again and again. He can’t break, not now. 

So, Sanji does the only other thing he knows how to do when he’s feeling this much emotion. He lunges at Zoro, swinging his legs in a frenzied rage.  

“I’m not asking you to fucking worry about me!” Sanji roars, his shoe smacking satisfyingly into the side of Zoro’s head.  

“You Shitty-Cook.” Zoro hisses in pain, his eyes narrowing to angry slits as the pain blossoms across his skull, rattling his teeth. What is wrong with this guy?  

“If I have to kick your ass to get you to sleep, I will.” It’s the only warning Zoro gives before he unsheathes his swords.  

He lunges low and uses the end of one of his hilts to drive a punch into Sanji’s gut. The Cook wheezes, coughing as he brings his knee up high to deflect the rest of the impact. Zoro manages to lift his head in time to avoid it, his chin just barely brushing off the fabric of Sanji’s pants.  

Zoro’s second sword cuts through the air, the blunt side aiming for Sanji’s temple, but the Cook is quicker again. He ducks and uses the momentum to place a hand on the ground and swing his hips fully around, launching both his legs in a hurricane kick at Zoro.  

The Swordsman jumps back just in time before both of them rush forward, two swords clashing with a now flaming shin. Zoro is barely breathing, his focus completely on the fight. That’s when he realises just how out of it Sanji is. Operating on pure adrenaline, Sanji's breaths are already labored, and his anchored leg trembles under the strain of supporting his full weight. 

“As if you could.” Sanji taunts, trying to keep a veil of confidence between them. His stomach is aching from where Zoro just left a fresh bruise. Usually, the pain would be a comfort, would be something to focus on while fighting but now it felt more like the beginning of the end for Sanji. The room is spinning, he has cotton mouth, his eyes are struggling to focus and keep up with the glint of Zoro’s swords.  

“Why-” Zoro pulls his swords out of the ‘X’ position they’re in, drawing them outwards and letting Sanji stumble forward, the Cook losing the place he’d been leaning all his weight on.  

“-are you pulling this shit right now?” 

Zoro leans forward as Sanji stumbles, making sure the other hits face first into his chest. Sanji tries to push off him but for once his feet aren’t co-operating with him. His shin extinguishes as he embarrassingly trips over his own feet.  

Zoro uses the misstep to wrap his arms tightly around Sanji, pinning him to his chest while his swords hang in the air either side of Sanji’s head. Sanji tries weakly to break his hold by pushing his back into Zoro’s arms but they’re like two flexible metal rods twisting around him. The position is awkward for his legs too, it’s impossible for Sanji to find enough leverage to get into any of his usual stances.  

“Answer me, Cook.” Zoro growls, starting to get genuinely pissed off. He needs to go on his watch, and he needs to know that when his watch is over, Sanji can take over. That someone capable is on standby when Zoro gets his own rest, takes his own breaks. Their crew needs them right now and Zoro has no idea why Sanji is choosing now to be so insufferable. He might just kill the guy if this ends up being about Nami asking him to do her chores or something. 

“I’m not-” Sanji struggles in Zoro’s hold as he grits out a response. “-pulling anything, shitty Swordsman. You’re the one being a dick- Fucking, let me go.” 

With his strength dwindling Sanji goes for a dirty move, he pushes his knee forward, trying to get Zoro in the groin but he misses, kneeing him hard in the hollow of his hip instead. 

“Bastard.” Zoro flinches, his body jerking for a moment as if the Cook had just hit his mark. Zoro drops his swords and uses his hands to twist Sanji around, pulling his back against Zoro’s chest and wrapping his arms around him again, pinning Sanji’s upper body in place and making sure he can’t knee him again. 

“See how weak you are right now? You can’t even match me, Ero-Cook. How do you think you’re going to hold up against an actual enemy? Are you really this stupid?” 

“Shut up!” Sanji yelps, doing his best to struggle against the wall of muscle behind him. He tries to dig his heels into the ground to get some kind of momentum to push off, but all his limbs are starting to feel like they’re submerged in water. It’s like he’s coordinating himself in slow motion.  

“Let me go you fucking brute.” Sanji slams his head back against Zoro’s shoulder, his frustration boiling over. 

“Did you hit your head when you fell from that cliff? I think it’s given you brain damage.” Zoro growls in his ear, tightening his grip enough that Sanji is gasping for his next breath, his ribs pushing against his lungs. 

Sanji flinches at the comment. He barely remembers the fall. One moment he was rushing towards the crew as a devil fruit user pounded into Chopper and Robin and the next moment he was being pushed by a force he couldn’t even see. He’d grappled with the rock the whole way down, desperate to stop his fall but then there was a sharp pain cutting into the back of his head and the next thing he knew he was waking up back on top of the cliff, lying on the ground beside his other injured crewmates. 

He failed them. 

He was useless. 

Zoro is still talking in his ear, but Sanji can’t discern his words anymore. The world around him begins to blur, and the once distinct lanterns in the galley transform into mere shards of light, losing their clear definition. Their white haze fogs Sanji’s view, making everything look strange and further away as the world seems to break into colourful blobs of nothing. 

“Are- are you crying?” Zoro splutters, staring over Sanji’s shoulder in disbelief.  

Sanji should be embarrassed. His rival, Zoro, is seeing him like this. But now that the dam is broken Sanji doesn’t have the energy to feel humiliated. He can’t stop seeing the blood on the side of Nami’s head, the harboured breathing from Usopp, Chopper clutching his arm as he tried to treat everyone...how much of that could he have prevented? 

“Are you more injured than you’re letting on?” Zoro accuses, moving to push Sanji away as the blonde had stopped fighting him, but when Sanji’s knees buckle, he grabs him by the waist again. 

“I’m fine.” Sanji insists, only to sob loudly as he tries to take in a deep breath.  

“You’re losing it.” Zoro decides, having no idea how to handle Sanji when the other isn’t trying to kill him. 

“You’re getting some sleep, Cook. End of story.” Zoro doesn’t leave any room for discussion as he starts marching to the door of the galley. He half-lifts Sanji in front of him, carrying him like a barrel out of the room. 

“Stop treating me like a child.” Sanji yelps, feeling winded by the forearms digging into his stomach as he desperately rubs at his eyes. 

Zoro must hear the choking in his speech because Sanji feels him moving his arms. A part of him is relieved at the idea of Zoro getting the fuck away from him while he’s having a complete mental breakdown, the other part feels a pang of disappointment.  

An embarrassing squeal stops Sanji’s train of thought, sadly coming form his own mouth, as one of Zoro’s arms slips lower. Suddenly, Sanji feels the back of his knees being knocked out as Zoro scoops him into his arms bridal style.  

“What are you doing?” Sanji snivels, wanting to yell and kick the other in the face, but instead his words are starting to slur. Now that he’s horizontal, he can’t fight his body relaxing, his eye lids drooping as his head hits off Zoro’s chest, his crewmate's heartbeat thumping rhythmically against his ear. 

Zoro looks down at Sanji with a raised brow, but Sanji isn’t glaring at him. He’s nestled his face against Zoro’s pec, his breathing evening out as he drifts off to sleep. 

Zoro stands there stupidly for a moment. The cook weighs nothing to him but his presence is heavy. His hair is tickling Zoro’s neck and chin, his breaths are hot against Zoro’s skin and Zoro has made the mistake of resting one of his hands on one of Sanji’s bulging thighs. Zoro can feel the back of his neck heat up as his thoughts betray him. 

“I have no idea.” Zoro whispers his response to Sanji’s last question, heading towards the Sunny’s crow's nest. 

“This isn’t the boy’s room.” Sanji slurs when Zoro knocks the door closed with his foot. 

“No shit, dumbass.” Zoro grunts without any real heat behind the words. Sanji seems to pull enough strength together to lift his head because Zoro now has a piercing blue eye glaring at him. 

“Wha-whatda I doing ‘ere?” Zoro can’t help but snigger at how incoherent Sanji is becoming. The rumbling of his chest makes the Cook sigh, slouching his head back again.  

Zoro does not trust Sanji to stay in bed right now. He is also becoming increasingly concerned that the other has internal bleeding in his brain or something from how he’s acting.  

“I’m making sure you sleep so I get to nap after.” Zoro grumbles, moving to drop Sanji on the bench that curves the length of the crew’s nest. 

“Prick.” Sanji snorts, making Zoro roll his eyes. He suddenly feels a whole lot better about dumping the Cook on the hard wood planks.  

“What the fuck?” Sanji puts a hand up to the back of his head, rubbing at the spot where it connected with the wood while he tries to sit back up.  

“Sleep.” Zoro pushes down on one of Sanji’s shoulders and watches with amusement as Sanji’s elbow slips out from under him and he ends up banging his head again. 

“Ow, stop doing that.” Sanji waves his hand blindly trying to slap at Zoro but only ends up brushing Zoro’s forearm with the strength of a fatigued kitten.  

“And I can’t just sleep on hard wood like you, you neanderthal.” 

“What you want a pillow, princess?” Zoro snorts, crossing his arms. 

“Yes.” Sanji mumbles, trying to cushion his head on his arms. 

Zoro is prepared to turn to the metal bar in the crow’s nest to start his pull-ups but then his eyes catch the glint of still drying tear streaks on Sanji’s cheeks and suddenly he’s feeling the rare emotion of guilt. He had to go and fucking cry, didn’t he? 

Zoro channels his frustration into grabbing Sanji by the hair and yanking his head up. The blonde lets out a yelp, trying to grab Zoro’s hand as he thrashes on the bench. 

“Calm down, Shit-Cook.” Zoro sits down on the bench, pulling Sanji’s head back down onto his thigh.  

Despite how groggy his movements are, it’s obvious how quickly Sanji tenses up.  

“What are you doing?” He tries to sit up, but Zoro still has a handful of blonde locks and with a hiss of pain he puts his head back down. 

“Sleep.” Zoro snarls. 

“You’re bossy.”  

“And you sound like an idiot right now.” 

They’re silent for the next minute. Zoro twists his head to look out the window, keeping an eye on the empty sea around them. He’s convinced Sanji has nodded off but then- 

“You can let go of my hair now.” Sanji mumbles, his words vibrating off Zoro’s thigh. 

Zoro jumps, glaring down at his traitorous hand that’s still gripping Sanji’s hair like a dumbbell. 

“Shit, sorry.” He drops the hair, brushing the strands down.  

Sanji lets out a low hum at the gesture, surprising them both. Zoro notes how his shoulders drop, his hands unfurl from fists and instead are brought to curl under his chin, as though he’s trying to get comfortable.  

So, Zoro doesn’t stop. He pointedly looks back to the window, his cheeks dusted with a light pink that Sanji would have a field day over if he was to look up right now. His fingers card through the long strands, startled to find shorter spikier parts down the Cook’s neck. His nails scratch across skin and Zoro is sure Sanji is going to find some second wind and break his hand with a kick, but it never comes. 

He knows the Cook hasn’t fallen asleep. He can tell by the irregularities in his breathing, the way he keeps shifting his weight, the tension that Zoro could cut with one of his swords if he was to try. Zoro has no idea what’s going on in the other’s mind, but he can feel it humming with words, like a frenzied beehive. Just as Zoro is about to lose his patience and threaten to knock Sanji out to get him to sleep, the curly browed idiot breaks the silence. 

“Thanks, Zoro.” 

What the hell does that mean? 

“Whatever.” 

Eventually Sanji does pass out. Zoro lets out a long breath he’d been holding back, desperate for a drink but realising he’s not going to be able to get up for anything for the next few hours. He’s still brushing through Sanji’s hair, stupidly mesmerized by how soft it is, how it falls like silk through his fingertips. It’s too intimate for them, Zoro knows this, but he thinks of how stressed Sanji had looked earlier when he was alone in the galley, how small he’d seemed in his arms. A shadow of the man Zoro fought side by side with. 

Zoro isn’t someone that’s good at comforting people. He’d never liked being comforted; he’d loathed anyone who had tried to pity him after Kuina, or treated him differently for months because of it. He was always at a loss when someone cried in front of him, glad that in recent times the crew were always there to react instead of him. 

But this is Sanji. 

Zoro doesn’t know what that excuse means. Why his mind fills in the answer to what the fuck am I doing with it’s Sanji, but it does. 

So, Zoro plays with his hair. He swallows hard when a hand snakes its way under his thigh like it’s a damn pillow and he doesn’t move it. He even closes the one open window he was enjoying the breeze from just because the idiot shivers once.  

Zoro doesn’t even know why Sanji is upset. 

It doesn’t matter. 

No ships attack in the night.  

Most of the crew sleep soundly, recovering in their beds. Tomorrow, Sanji and Zoro won’t bring any of this up. They’ll argue and fight as normal and no one will know what transpired.  

But Zoro will know how soft Sanji’s hair is. He’ll know the Cook likes it being played with. He’ll remember the weight of Sanji’s head on his lap and the weight in his chest that lifted just watching Sanji drift off. 

Sanji will be rested. He’ll forgive himself, and he’ll get back to his usual routine. He’ll panic about what happened for weeks after, burning with shame and tip toeing around Zoro until the Swordsman pisses him off enough that the awkwardness disappears completely, and he’ll remember to.  

He’ll remember what it was like to be forcefully cared for. To have someone argue through his self-sacrificing bullshit and demand he do what’s best for him. To have someone watch over him when all he wanted was to be left alone. 

Next time, they’ll both remember.  

[babydollmarauders]

TOLERATE IT — JOHN MARINO

john marino x fem!reader

summary: in which y/n’s love is tolerated at best, and she wonders what ever happened to her loving boyfriend

warnings: not much dialogue in the beginning?, happy or sad ending depending on the way you look at it, not proofread.

notes: i love writing angst but as a john girlie, this hurt me— but i did this to myself

the page turns, John’s fingers skimming it gently.

his head is dipped low, one leg perched on the other. he’s sat on the other end of the sofa, engrossed in his book; whereas i pay no attention to the movie that plays on the tv, rather watching him instead.

his demeanor is peaceful, and i know better than to actually disturb him. this is some of the only time he gets to relax, and i don’t want to take that away from him. so i sit quietly instead, just enjoying the rare company.

but i can’t help but wish he would actually do something with me. watch a movie, cuddle, talk, anything. instead i’m subjected to medium silence and the sound of paper flipping.

i turn the tv off, rising from the couch, and his eyes flicker up at my movement, but he dismisses it quickly, going back to his book.

“i’m going to bed.” i tell him softly, quietly yearning for him to join me, but instead he just hums in acknowledgment. “are you gonna join me?”

his eyes scan the page for a few more seconds as i stand before him, waiting for his response. finally, he looks up at me properly, shaking his head.

“no, i’m good.”

my heart sinks at his reply, but i nod, “okay.”

i spend my entire bedtime routine hoping that he’ll walk into the room. that maybe he’ll change his mind and for once, we’ll go to bed together; like we did early in our relationship. but when i climb into an empty bed and he’s still in the living room, i have to accept the fact that it’s not happening. that those days are apparently over.

**

i stir in my sleep, shifting under the weight of an arm draped over my waist, and for a second my heart leaps in my chest, thinking John has decided to cuddle me as i slept. but when i turn under his touch, my eyes fluttering open, i find him asleep. the spooning an unconscious movement, and as soon as it’s started, it’s already over, his arm drawing back as he moves in his slumber to lay on his back.

i settle on my side, resting my head in my hand as i watch the steady rise and fall of his chest in the darkness of the room. the silence piercing as i watch him breathe.

what ever happened to the boy who held me as we slept? the same one who comforted me when people criticized our five year age gap. the one who told me he would do anything to keep me happy.

***

my heart races in my chest as i set the dining table.

the usual plastic plates and cups being replaced for fine china and wine glasses. a singular candle is lit in the middle of the table, next to the steaming pasta that waits to be served. homemade french bread sits beside it, a dish of herb infused butter resting atop of the wood as well.

i spent all day in the kitchen, making everything from scratch. the noodles, the sauce, the bread, the butter, all done today by me. as well as John’s favorite chocolate cake, in which i got the recipe from his mother.

it’s officially our two year anniversary, and i took advantage of the fact that John had practice today and then was going to the gym. i figured a slightly early dinner and then dessert would be a good plan before i gave him his present and then hopefully we would make our way to the bedroom.

but now i sit in my seat at the table, awaiting his return. he had told me he would be home by six, but the clock on the dining room wall displays that it’s a quarter past seven and he still isn’t home.

i’ve stuck the food into the oven to keep warm at this point, but the empty chair across from me and the soft music that floats through the house taunts me.

“alexa, stop the music.” the instrumental cuts off abruptly, tears welling in my eyes at my boyfriends absence.

i’m just about ready to eat by myself and call it an early night when i hear the front door open, footsteps echoing through the house, getting closer and closer. they halt when he reaches the dining room, and i look up to find him standing in the doorway.

his brows are threaded together, his gym bag slung over his shoulder.

“you made dinner?” he questions, setting his bag on the ground beside him.

i perk up immediately, disappointing myself with how quickly i’m ready to move past his lateness.

“yeah.” i smile, motioning toward the empty seat. “take a seat, i’ll go grab it out of the oven! i was waiting for you to get home.”

he nods, sitting down as i scurry towards the kitchen. i bring the pasta and bread and butter out one at a time before taking my seat across from him.

i’m on the edge of my seat, eagerly awaiting his praise for my cooking and the setup, or even just a ‘happy anniversary, baby.’ but it never comes. we eat silently as he scrolls on his phone, and when he finishes his food, he quickly stands to dismiss himself.

“wait!” he stops at my shout, furrowing his brows at me. “i made cake.”

my eyes are soft, silently begging him to stay.

despite the fact that he evidently forgot our anniversary, i’m still eager to please him; vying for his attention and love, the best i can.

he nods, settling back down in his seat.

“dinner, cake, wine, and glass plates?” he laughs, “you were feeling fancy tonight.”

my heart shatters in my chest. even though i know he forgot the date, it still hurts to hear him speak like it’s just another day. proving even further that he doesn’t know how special today is.

“well, yeah, it’s-” i’m so close to reminding him, but then i think of how guilty he’ll feel, and i stop. “it’s just been a good day.”

i plaster a smile on my lipstick covered lips, hoping he’ll buy it; and he does. he gives me a small smile back and i excuse myself to the kitchen, taking a moment to blink back tears before i cut into the cake, setting a slice on a plate and hurrying back to him.

i place the dessert in front of him, before sitting back down, just watching him as he eats. i’m no longer in a cake mood, my appetite gone as i push my still only half eaten pasta around my plate.

“Jack said hi, by the way.” he speaks between bites and i hum.

“that’s nice, i’ll have to text him.” i acknowledge. “i talked to your mom today.”

“you did?”

“yeah, i called her for the cake recipe.” i explain. “she said to tell you to call her.”

maybe she can remind him what day it is, seeing as she remembered it as soon as i called her.

“okay, i’ll call her soon.” he tells me, finishing his last bite before he stands once more.

“anything else, or can i take a shower now?” he asks, as though i’ve inconvenienced him somehow.

“you can shower.” i wait until he’s walking away, heading down the hallway to our room before i speak again, lowly whispering. “happy anniversary.”

i know i deserve better; that my love should be celebrated. i know that i deserve someone who will remember our anniversary; maybe even someone who will get me flowers just because and who will spend time with me and appreciate my love rather than tolerate it, but i love him.

***

i sit backwards, on my knees on a chair in the living room, facing the front door. i wait eagerly, checking the time on my phone religiously.

i know John should be home soon. a week long roadie finally ending with his long awaited return.

it’s half past two in the morning, much later than i normally stay up, but i refuse to let him arrive home without a proper welcoming.

my eyes are half lidded, but excitement still courses through my veins, remembering his three goals and seven assists in this past four games.

i perk up at the sound of the front door unlocking, watching with baited breath as it creaks open. John steps through the doorway, looking exhausted, slipping his shoes off and dropping his roadie bag on the floor.

i squeal excitedly, gaining his attention as i hop off my chair and run straight into his arms.

“welcome home, Johnny!” i cheer, snaking my arms around his neck, and jumping up to wrap my legs around his waist.

he stiffens for a split-second, letting out an ‘oomph’ before his hands fly to my butt to hold my weight.

“jesus, y/n, warn a guy, would you?” he huffs out a laugh and i lean back to look at his face, expecting a smile but all i see is a blank expression and tired eyes.

i give a sad smile, unwrapping my legs and letting my body slide down his.

suddenly, i feel incredibly insecure, my happy mood diminishing and quickly being replaced by regret.

“you’re right, i’m sorry.” i breathe out, backing away. “i guess i was overly excited.”

i turn quickly in order to keep him from seeing my now glassy eyes, tears threatening to spill as i retreat down the hall to our bedroom.

i don’t expect for him to accompany me, but suddenly i can hear his footsteps behind me, slowly following.

“what was that?” he questions as we reach the bedroom.

i can feel myself reaching my boiling point, choosing to ignore his words as i walk into the en-suite bathroom. i turn the shower water on, but he follows me into the bathroom too.

“y/n.”

y/n. not ‘babe’ or ‘love’. just y/n.

i swallow the lump in my throat before i turn to face him.

“aren’t you gonna go to bed?” i ask in attempt to avoid his question. “you seem tired.”

“aren’t you?” he raises a brow, and i shake my head.

i jab my thumb towards the shower behind me, “i’m gonna shower first.”

“i see that.” he huffs. “what was that? you just walked away from me.”

i sigh, knowing what’s finally coming, and turn to shut off the shower water before facing him again.

“doesn’t feel good, does it?” i walk around him, back into the bedroom, but he’s hot on my heels.

“what?” his hand grips my wrist, spinning me back around to look at him. “what are you talking about?”

“look, if this is all in my head, tell me now.” i start, only confusing him further by the looks of his expression. “but, you don’t love me anymore.”

tell me i’ve got it wrong.

he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before he opens them again. “what are you even saying? i’m dating you, aren’t i?”

“are you?” i laugh bitterly, taking a couple steps backwards. “or are you tolerating me?”

“y/n,” he sighs, shaking his head. “you’re tired. and i must’ve upset you somehow, but you’re not making any sense.”

“you don’t appreciate me!” i shout, my hands gesturing wildly in the air.

“i cooked a nice dinner for our anniversary and you were late and forgot the date! and while you’re off playing hockey and winning games, where am i? here! i sit here and polish plates until they gleam and glisten. i clean the house and sit and wait for your return, and then when you do get home, you don’t even seem happy to see me! at all!”

John blinks in surprise at my outburst, his lips parting to speak, but i cut him off before he can get a word out.

“i made you my everything and you don’t even seem to care! i’ve been begging for you to love me again but i’m done! what happened to the man that assured me that my past relationships didn’t define me? the you that actually spent time with me?”

my chest heaves as i regain my breath, watching his expression change from confusion to defensiveness.

“i spend time with you!” he huffs and i roll my eyes.

“no, you sit and you read or you watch games or you do something by yourself on the other side of the couch.” i clarify dejectedly, nearly ready to give up. “you don’t do things with me. and if i try, you wave me off.”

“i just- i don’t understand where this is coming from.” he tells me, and i slump on the end of the bed, furiously wiping away tears that have begun to fall.

“that’s just it. you assume i’m fine with this, because i’ve let it go on for too long. i’ve sat here, and i’ve painted you in the best colors, and i’ve put you on this pedestal. i told myself that if i just did more- if i just did anything you could ever hope for- then we would be fine. that eventually you’ll love me again and you’ll treat me how you used to and we would be happy. but instead i watch you live your life and i’m delegated to the sidelines, begging to be even a minor part of your life. you tolerate me living with you. you tolerate my existence. and you tolerate my love.

“but i’m done. i can’t do it anymore.” my face falls in my hands, sobs wracking my chest.

i’ve finally given up.

John is quiet, but i can hear his feet padding against the floor for a moment, moving farther away before he comes back.

his fingers spread across my thigh, and when i drag my hands away from my face, opening my eyes to look at him, he’s kneeled on the floor in front of me.

“i’m sorry that you feel i don’t love you anymore. i never meant to make you feel like you’re just tolerated in my life. but i promise you, i see you. i do appreciate everything you do for me, and the love that you give me.”

his hand leaves my skin, fumbling with something in his grasp before holding it up.

my heart skips a beat, those butterflies returning in my stomach as my lips part in surprise. my eyes lock in on the diamond ring that sits in the little black velvet box in his hands.

“i promise, you’re not just going tolerated. i love you, and i want you in my life forever.” my gaze flickers up to his face, and i already begin nodding my head. “will you marry me?”

i nod even faster, an excited grin spreading over my lips, and he smiles softly, removing the ring from the box and slipping it onto my outstretched finger.

i admire it for a second, appreciating how right it looks to have a ring on my finger.

this is it.

this is what i did it all for.

what i’ve waited my whole life for.

my hands cup his face, pulling him in to press my lips to his.

“i love you.” i whisper, my lips still burning for his, and in response, he pulls me in for another kiss.

when we finally part, we begin to get ready for bed, effectively ignoring the outburst i just had. and once we climb into bed, i kiss him once more, melting into his touch like i used to.

“i’m sorry, you must be tired. i took up so much of your time tonight, you could’ve been asleep by now.” i mumble, listening to his heartbeat under the weight of my head.

“it’s okay. don’t apologize.” his fingers run through my hair and he turns off his bedside lamp, blanketing the room in darkness. “i love you.”

i fully plan on responding, but amongst the comfort, my eyes have already turned heavy, and speaking feels like too much work. my breathing evens out as i bask in the closeness of this moment.

i love him.

[pinkcherryblossom18]

I Bet On Losing (You)

Aegon ii Targaryen/Reader

Summary: Another trip, another month of nothing but grueling time spent with a family that neither you nor Aegon truly wish to be part of. A family that pushes you both, to anger and to tears.

I almost cried while writing the ending...take that as you will.

TW: Modern AU, Chubby!Aegon, Angst, Mild fluff, Hints of smut, Miscarriage mention/refrenced, Descriptions of a miscarriage, Past suicidal thoughts, Forced abortion mention, Aegons childhood, Referenced alcoholism, Otto Hightower, Viserys Targaryen. This is some heavy shit. 

Word Count: 7.7k

The backseat is full of blankets that Sunfyre has easily taken over with a quick leep from the back where his dog bed is along with his food bowl and water bowl but you knew that Aegon was already going to feed him whatever you two picked up in the five hour drive. Along with Sunfyre and the blankets is a cooler, it’s small and painted red, inside it holds a pack and a half of hard seltzers for both you and Aegon when you two get to the Targaryen summer home. A bottle of rum is also within it but you two have promised not to touch it until you got there as it was your only bottle of actual alcohol for the month. Something that you two had started with in three months of dating and a tip from the fifth AA meeting that you both went to before you both got involved. 

Its a vacation that neither of you wanted but one that you two have no choice in as Aemond had threatened Aegon over text and Alicent had made sure to call you every day over the past week, asking for speciality items the two of you may want or wondering if she should perhaps visit, just to help you pack. You had kept the peace and politely turned her down, instead you asked if she was alright and how everything was going and if she had finally gotten some kitchen staff to come to the summer home to help. She hadn’t. 

She had been quite certain that you were the only one packing, it wasn’t entirely true but not exactly wrong either. More so it was you having to fold everything when Aegon just tossed his clothes into his suitcase. 

A sigh comes from beside you and the hand that you hold in your own squeezes with a strength that most wouldn’t think that the plump frat boy that was Aegon would possess. It doesn’t matter as you squeeze back. Both of you have reserves for this trip; neither one of you wants to go. Both for the same reasons but also your own. 

It wasn’t an option though, that was abundantly clear to everyone who attended. Aegon’s father only made it mandatory so that they could all be together for once, so that they actually looked like a family and not a clumped together mess of lies, vices, insults and piercing glares that started physical fights. The only way out was if someone had a life threatening cause that made them stay away or if you were Daeron, you had already been invited somewhere else. The boy had used that excuse since he started high school, always having a reason to be away and you couldn’t blame him. 

Two hard seltzers were already opened, they both rested in the cup holders with you both separating hands every once in a while to take a sip, then your hand conjoined once more with ferocity that only came from the clingness that was adopted by anxiety and dread. 

Aegon sighed again but you kept staring out of the window. Cars flew past, those in them ranged from color to gender to what they were doing. Some had white skin, others bronze; some were women and some were men and most of them were on their phones or talking to another that was in their car. You wondered what people would think if they looked into Aegon’s car, they would probably see two people who were both frowning with one gripping the wheel so tight that the sound of the leather against flesh was audible and the other looking out the window with sad looking expressions, watching as the cars passed. 

It was probably a horrid sight, they most likely thought you two to be displeased with each other, two people going through a rough breakup but forced into a space so small that it was bound to be suffocating. It wasn’t the truth and you both knew it so that was truly all that mattered, it was the upcoming couple of months that was weighing on the both of you like bags of bricks that was close to breaking your backs each time this reunion was set. 

Aegon sighed again and you breathed deeply, trying to push off the questions until later when the roads weren’t filled with cars all too close to experience the type of anger that can come from the both of you. But it all seemed inevitable when he sighed once more, again. 

You didn’t even move your head off of the window when you asked him: “If you want to say something just say it.”

“I want to say absolutely nothing,” he replied quickly and you rolled your eyes and looked at him. A small quirk of a smile was on his face and you fought to keep one off of yours. 

“Oh?” His smile widens more and you lean your head back onto the seat, staring at him as he stares out into the road. “So you're just suddenly having breathing problems?”

He nods. “Which is a good reason to go back home,” he says, eyeing an exit that leads to the opposite direction of your intended location. 

You laugh and shake your head at him as he starts to move toward the exit. “Aegon, we’re literally thirty minutes away from the house. Plus your mom would want to visit us if we told her that was the reason,” you state and he sighs. 

Shaking his head, Aegon flashes you a small pout that only grows bigger when he faces away from you again. “You have to spoil my plans?” He whines childishly. 

You only shrug. “Make up a better plan,” you say and he only scoffs. 

Silence takes over the car once more but with an atmosphere that shrouds that tension that had once been there. Small smiles stay on both of your lips and only leave when you both sing along to a song that plays on the radio. 

The tension returns when Aegon turns onto the exit and the car approaches the small grove which leads to the house. In any other circumstances, you would have been delighted to visit the God’s Eye, the Riverlands provided beautiful spaces of untouched land surrounding it and it was a popular place for tourists and people on vacation. Houses close to it were expensive and those who held as much wealth as the Targaryens did could secure one. 

“How much do you want to bet that mom is going to ambush you with marriage questions an hour after we show up?” He suddenly asks as soon as he turns on the gravel road leading to the house. 

You shake your head. “I’m not playing this game.” It always leads to losing at least a hundred and only gaining very little. 

“And why not?” He asks, playing innocent too well for who he was. 

“Because you cheat,” you shoot at him and Aegon only chuckles.

Aegon never lost at this game, even in the last few years that you two had been playing it you’ve never won. Had never even come close to winning. 

Groaning, Aegon gently slaps at your leg in some type of encouragement. “Oh, come on. It’s just a bit of fun,” he says, trying to coax you into his asinine idea of a fun game that only he can win. He knows it too but it’s never stopped him from trying to persuade you. 

“Not for my wallet.”

He shoots you an unimpressed look. “Come on, how much?”

You sigh and pull out your phone, ready to record your bets and the money that you’ll probably lose. “I’ll bet ten she’ll wait until tomorrow during lunch to ask me.” Last time she had asked you not even an hour after you two arrived. “How much do you wanna bet that your dad won’t even remember my name?”

Aegon snorts. “That’s unfair, he never remembers.” He pauses before tapping your phone. “Twenty. I bet thirty that Aemond will only speak to us a total of nine times for the entire two months.”

“That’s too easy,” you say, typing down the bet. “How much do you want to bet how long it’s going to take for Otto to mention class structure?” 

It had happened as soon as he sat down that first night last year, the year before that he mentioned it before you two had even shown up at the house. 

“Forty that he mentions it as soon as he sees you,” he says confidently. 

You think about it for a moment. “Fifty that he’ll do it during dinner,” Aegon nods at your words and you add “and Daemon makes fun of him for it.”

“He didn’t last time,” Aegon points out.

“That was because he was too busy staring down your sister's shirt.”

“So?” Aegon shrugs and then a smirk comes onto his face. “I said something and I was staring down your shirt.”

A chuckle comes from you when Aegon glances at your breasts. “That’s because it’s a natural state for you at this point,” you quip and he only shrugs.

“I don’t hear you complaining.”

You shake your head and move his head so that he’s looking at the road, his headlights starting to reflect meaning that you were close to the gates. “Look at the road before you make us crash into a tree.”

“It would at least get us out of this.”

Like every year, you and Aegon are—surprisingly—the first ones out of the rest of his siblings to show up, pardon for Rhaenyra. It’s only her, Daemon and their three youngest children, the eldest three had opted for driving in a less crowded vehicle but forgot that Jace was now living in the North for college so it was taking longer than normal. Rheana and Baela were still in Driftmark with their grandparents but had said that they would be there in a week or two. 

The meetings have gone smoothly so far, Rhaenrya was kind and welcoming as usual and Daemon had kept his distance but still made his normal quick quips. Alicent had been the one to greet you two, with a big hug and a smile as she led you inside with Sunfyre following you and leaving Aegon behind with the luggage. She had shown you the new additions to the house, mostly in the kitchen which included more counter space, like it wasn’t already a vast block of wood. 

Thankfully, she hadn’t mentioned marriage yet.

Later, you heard the sound of Dreamfyre through the house, then Vermax, Arrax and Tyraxes when the boys finally showed up. The only indication that Aemond was here was Vhagar hopping onto your and Aegon’s bed and curling up in a ball right on his pillow. She hissed and scratched at him when he attempted to take her off of his pillow but allowed for you to pull her into your lap, petting languidly at her graying pelt with soft purrs. 

Vhagar hissed when Aegon’s hand went near her and you laughed, continuing to stroke the cat’s fur. “That’s unfair,” he pouts. 

You shake your head at him and look down at the old cat in your arms. She was old but you never knew how old, all Aemond had told you was that she went through two previous owners in his family before ending up with him. And that Rheana was still upset about the fact that Aemond got her mother’s cat. “She would probably like you more if you didn’t kick her all of the time.”

A snort comes from Aegon and he plops down beside you, making Vhagar grumble before settling down again. “In my defense, I was eight,” he said in self-defense. 

“No, you act like you’re eight,” you quip.

A small shriek comes from your lips when Aegon pokes your side. “That’s rude,” he murmurs, his head settling on your shoulder. 

“You love it,” you say and he hums in agreement. 

His pale hair spreads over your shoulder like a waterfall, you remember when it was longer before he cut it and sometimes you found yourself missing it. Your hand starts to play with the ends of his hair and chuckle when some strands tickle you under your chin. His eyes open a few seconds later, never truly able to handle silences for too long unless it was in the morning, with you both still dreary from sleep and finding comfort in each other's arms basking in it like you would die without it. 

Sometimes his hand would travel downward and trace over your stomach, bringing in a certain sadness to your mornings that not even the greatest of warmths could fix. No other warmth than Aegon’s, who ran hot and held you during nights when the sadness from three years ago settled back in like a tidal wave. 

You two could try again, truly you two could. It wouldn’t be difficult considering that you both fucked like rabbits anyways but you couldn’t do it. 

Fear lingered heavily on your shoulders everytime Aegon would bring it up, even as something to get you more worked up during sex or it just slipped out. It always ended there and the ruined orgasm was nothing more than a small hindrance to what you felt. To the fear that clung to you like glue; that hovered over you and would shadow you for the rest of your life. 

It didn’t matter if it wasn’t your fault. 

The anguish followed you everywhere, on every piece of happiness that resembled what you felt when you heard the news. Even with Aegon and him recovering reminded you of your loss, how he was more focused on stopping, wanting to be present, wanting to be there unlike how his father had been. How you both had fallen back into that old routine when it happened, how you both cried all night with a bottle of whiskey in your hands and your arms wrapped around each other.

Those bright blue eyes look up at you, full of stars and adoration. You were sure that if anyone else saw him like this, they would believe that this was Aegon Targaryen, the party clown, the alcoholic, the druggie and man whore. You were sure the same could be said about you. “Yes I do.” He let in for a kiss but then yelped and pulled back with a pained groan. Vhagar growled at him and went to strike him again. “Fucking—Aemond!” He yells and a few seconds later you hear soft steps coming toward your room, Aemond’s was only a few rooms down as he refused to be any closer. “Get your cat before she rips my balls off!”

Aemond glides in with quick strides and scoops Vhagar off of your lap. “That would be an improvement.”

“Hey Aemond,” you greet him and he flashes you a small smile.

“How was the trip?” He asks. “I imagine it was difficult having to deal with two dogs.”

You stifle a laugh behind your hand as you feel Aegon nestling further against your neck, only pulling away for a second to say: “That was actually funny, brother,” with a mocking smile before shoving his face back into the crook of your neck. 

In his arms, Vhagar glares at Aegon and then jumps out of Aemond’s arms and leaves. “Not as taxing as usual, one of them was more behaved than usual.” You giggled when Aegon nipped at you with his teeth before relaxing once more. “How was the trip? I heard about that hurricane in the Stormlands, I was meaning to call but never got the time.”

He only shrugs and leans on the door frame. “It was nowhere near me.”

“What grave news for all of us,” Aegon mumbles, hot breath raising hairs on the back of your neck. 

You swat Aegon’s back and smile at Aemond. “I’ll talk to you later Aemond,” you say, voice sweet and cautious unlike how Aegon is being. 

He nods. “I’ll see you then,” he says and then leaves.  

A loud thud echoes throughout the room when you push Aegon off of you and he accidentally falls to the floor, not expecting to be shoved. “Can you not be civil with him?” You ask, exasperated. “Especially with everything that went down a few months ago.”

Aegon pushes himself off of the floor ad lays down on the bed before shrugging. You turn toward him, seeing him propped up against the pillows, your eyes darting to the exposed skin of his stomach for a second before looking back at him. The only indication that he knows is a small smirk on his lips. “He would despise it if I treated him like you and mom do,” he states simply. 

“Kindly?”

“Like glass.” Aegon shifts and grabs your ankle, and you scoot closer to him on the bed. “It didn’t work on me, it doesn’t work on him.”

You huff. “Well I can’t comfort him the way I comfort you.”

That smirk on Aegon’s face widens and he moves his face closer to yours, hand finding the back of your thigh and throwing it over his legs. You stumble and fall onto his chest before righting yourself up. “I might be needing some of the comfort now,” he breathes, his eyes catching themselves on your breasts. 

“Not going to wait until midnight?” You ask him. 

Aegon groans, his head falling back against the pillows. “We always wait until midnight,” he whines.

You shake your head at him. “There’s a reason for that,” you say pointedly. 

His head emerges from the pillows, a mischievous smile on his face. “Perhaps if my grandfather hears how I fuck you, he will leave you alone,” he says, his hands starting to push up your shirt. 

You push his hands down with difficulty. “Maybe he will say that I am corrupting you,” you counter. 

His eyebrow quirks. “Maybe then I can convince father to send him back to Oldtown for retirement as his memory is deteriorating, rapidly.”

A giggle comes from your lips and you lean down, pecking his lips. You go to pull away and almost fail at such a task when Aegon’s hand threads through your hair, wanting to keep you where you are. “Merry Christmas to me then,” you mumble against his lips. 

“No one in this family has ever resented early presents,” he says, “this would be put into the photo album as the best one yet.”

You laugh and sit up straight. “That would be your favorite present?”

A lewd smile comes onto his face. “Second to that blowjob you gave me last year,” he says, his smile widening at what you presume to be at the memory of you sucking his brain out of his balls.

You poke his chest. “Your turn this year,” you remind him. 

Once more his hands go under your shirt, one going up and the other playing with the top of your pants, waiting to be invited in. “Another early Christmas present,” he hums, his fingers grazing underneath your bra. 

Humming, you bend down and kiss his lips once more. “Sure…at midnight,” you say and jump off of him, laughing at the pout on his face. 

“Tease,” he shoots at you, hatefully but his lips are upturned.

You blow a kiss at him. “Love you too,” you say before leaving the room.

The dinner table is filled with individual whispers. Awkward glances are exchanged every now and then when one thinks that they have spoken too loudly but despite that, everyone keeps to their own. 

Jace, Luke and Joffrey are talking to each other, though it’s mostly only the oldest two and the six years old seems content on listening but not understanding what his older brothers were saying. 

Aemond and Helaena are immersed in their own world of bugs, college and whatever else they liked to converse about. 

Rhaenyra and Daemon are busy with little Aegon, Viserys, and Visenya but Rhaenyra is exchanging small talk with Alicent. 

You and Aegon are talking only to each other, still taking bets and wondering who was going to win the first one. Small quips are made about his family, about what they were doing when they weren’t all together that he somehow knows and what he is sure is going on with his own family. You put little faith into his words but are sure that he’s most likely right about most of it. 

All of you are waiting for Otto and Viserys to show up and pretend to be one big happy family for the rest of the dinners that are on their way. The fabrication of feelings was only made for the older man as he was growing only sicker as the days went on, Alicent had spoken to about it during her monthly calls to check up on the both of you.

You’re sure that she’s only calling to make sure that you’re both sober still and not passed out in an alley somewhere like you two would have been four years ago.

Soon enough the door opens and you can hear the sound of a cane tapping against the ground and a scratchy voice followed by another one that sounded more refined and arrogant. Now came the part that everyone despised the most, now card the need to act like you all loved each other to some degree other than mild tepid disinterest that you all held for each other. 

The sound stops and in the threshold of the dining room stands Viserys Targaryen. His face was wrinkled and pallid; his structure was seeming to be on the verge of becoming bone thin and even with the cane, he still needed the assistance of Otto Hightower to walk. 

A shaky smile was spread over his lips as he looked at the viewage in front of him, finding nothing wrong at all. “Ah, what a joyous sight! All of my family together again,” he says joyfully. 

The dinner went downhill from there. 

Stories were exchanged. Happenings that were not given to others in the family were talked about and only a few jabs here and there were thrown but not enough to elevate the underground tension that lingered underneath everyone’s skins. The wine flowed freely, everyone besides Alicent, Otto and Helaena were already on their fourth or fifth cup of the red liquid. You and Aegon went through it as slowly as you both could, only refilling your glasses when the other was done with theirs; the two of you were only on your second glasses and still regretfully sober. 

You could feel Otto’s eyes on you the entire time, judging and calculating, rounding up whatever he had in his arsenal to eventually fire at you. Alicent was also watching you but was also keeping her eyes on Aegon, watching and perhaps waiting for one of you to slip back into your old habits. 

Otto cleared his throat, tearing you away from Helaena who had been telling you of some drama that was happening at her work. “I wasn’t aware that the rabble was still with us this year,” he says smoothly, taking a sip out of his glass. 

Aegon’s hand nudged yours, twenty five added to your wallet already. Now Daemon just needed to butt in like usual. 

The smile on your face fell and was replaced by a fake one. “Well I’m surprised that you’re here as well Otto, especially eating dinner for the early bird special was only two hours ago,” you say innocently. Chuckles disperse across the table by those who are listening. 

A sardonic smile copied your own. “I don’t have a big enough appetite to eat twice,” he remarked. 

You nodded. “Many don’t when they get older.”

“And how is college?” He asks. “Still studying…English?”

Your eyes narrowed into slits. “Yes, you say and nod toward the top of his head. “Your hair looks great tonight, but I would recommend trying to master the comb over.”

A wicked look comes into his eyes. “How is college?” He asks, taking a sip from his cup. 

You shrug. “It’s alright, the classes were different toward the end but I came out on top.”

“Not a common occurrence,” Aegon mutters beside you. 

Alicent gasps. “Aegon!” She chides. 

Aegon only raises his hands up in surrender. “Simply stating a fact mother, you have always told me not to lie,” he says cheekily. 

She only sighs, a changrine look on her normally perfectly molded face as she looks away from her eldest son.

Under the table, Aegon passes you twenty five dollars and you grin in satisfaction. 

It’s a few minutes later when you are halfway through your meal that Alicent turns back toward the both of you. A look is in her eyes that helps to remind you that she is Otto’s daughter. 

With her hands clasped in front of her, she peers at the both of you thoughtfully and you reach into your pocket, ready to hand Aegon his bet money. “Have you two considered…moving along in your relationship?” She asks, sounding hopeful for the news that she has pestered you both about for two years now. 

Aegon shakes his head and plucks the ten out of your fingers from under the table. “No mother, we still aren’t ready yet,” he says calmly. 

A disappointed look is on her face, all of the hope and yearn draining out quickly. “After four years?” She asks, her voice slick with confusion. “I married your father after a year.”

“Months,” Aegon whispers to you.

At the same time you tell her: “We just aren’t ready yet, Mrs. Targaryen. With college and work, life is just too busy at the moment,” you explain, hoping that this will be the last she will bring it up. 

“The AA meetings must take much of your time as well,” Otto says slyly. 

Agitation nips at your heels with barbed teeth, making them bleed and hoping that you will soon see nothing but red. “They do but we only go on Wednesdays and Saturdays,” you explain to him, trying to keep your voice even. 

Otto opens his mouth once more but Jace intervenes with a gliding grace. “I met someone,” he announces and everyone’s attention goes toward him. 

“Really?” Aegon asks in disbelief. 

“Who is it?” You ask, hitting Aegon on the arm. 

“What is she like?” Rhaenyra asks, a bright smile on her face. 

Jace breathes deeply. “His name is Cregan, he’s on the hockey team,” he says and everyone stops in their tracks for a moment. 

“He?” Alicent asks and a quick glance toward the end of the table, you see Otto’s lips curl up in disgust. 

Jace nods. “Yes, he.”

The smile on Rhaenyra’s face is still bright when she asks: “When can we meet him?” 

A smile is on Jace’s face, relief is in it. “He’s in Winterfell right now with his family but he should be free soon.”

Alicent nods. “Well we have more than enough room Jace, it would be nice to meet your…friend,” she says slowly. 

“I had a male friend once,” Aegon pipes up, “the memories still make me—

“Aegon!” Alicent shouts, her eyes darting toward you. 

You sink into your seat as Aegon places his arm on the back of it. “Oh she doesn’t mind, we’ve had our own play dates with our male friends before,” he says and you feel an overcoming heat on your cheeks from both embarrassment and the memory. 

 A groan comes from the chair from the end of the table as Viserys leans forward, looking toward his second son. “Ah Aemond, how is Alys?” He asks. 

The air grows stiff as everyone stills, even Aegon stops in his laughing tracks and stares at his brother. Worry paints his eyes and you're sure that he would be ready to assist his brother should he need it. “I wouldn’t know,” Aemond states, his face an absent canvas of burdening pain. 

Viserys only looks disappointed, seemingly not noticing the breath that the rest of the table holds. “Well that’s unfortunate, she was quite lovely,” he remarks. 

At that, Aegon pushes away from the table and stands before reaching down to grab your hand. “Excuse us,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically choleric. 

Alicent’s eyebrows furrow as Aegon pulls you out of your seat. “Where are you going?” She asks, concern lining her voice. 

Aegon only brushes that concern away and starts to leave, bringing you with him. “Somewhere where I don’t want to pull my brains out of my ears. Come on,” he whispers to you. 

“It was nice seeing you again,” you say to the table before turning toward Helaena. “I’ll talk to you later, Hel.”

Aegon pulls you out of the room and down the hall toward the stairs. His jaw is set tightly, anger toward his father plain in every muscle of his body as you two go up the stairs. 

He pulls open the door into your room and pushes you up against the door once it is closed. “You are one of the rudest men that I know,” you joke. 

A grin comes onto his face but his fury is still evident. “Must not know many men then,” he remarks.

“Aegon—”

He cuts you off by mashing his lips with your own, stopping your words as he releases all of his anger that he possibly can into one kiss. Your arms go around his neck and pull him closer and you two only part if it is entirely necessary. 

Pulling you toward the bed, you pull away from his lips with heavy hesitance. “It’s not midnight yet,” you tell him. 

He only shrugs and pushes you down on the bed before glancing at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s seven, close enough,” he remarks before grabbing your jaw in his hand and kissing you hard.

Sunfyre has made his home in your lap despite being too big to fit. Not that he cares. The golden only tries to snuggle in further whenever you try to push him off of your lap and you know exactly who he learned that from.

The sound of the shower is starting to lull you into a daze and a yawn falls out of your lips, a sudden tiredness starting to cling to your bones. You settle against the pillows and close your eyes, water hitting porcelain, the weight on your lap along with the slight nip in the air combined with the heat the Sunfyre is giving you; a light sleep comes to you easily. 

It’s the sound of the door to the bathroom hitting the wall that makes you jolt awake and Sunfyre finally gets off of your lap. You look toward the direction of the noise and see Aegon staring at you sheepishly.

You shake your head at him and then let your eyes drift down toward the wet landscape of his torso. Droplets of water cling to his pale skin and drip down every now and then, making your eyes follow them. They fall over his shoulders and down between his chest and over his stomach, traveling over the slight bulge and finally being taken by the towel wrapped around his waist, something that you’re surprised that he’s even wearing. 

Aegon looks at you, amused. “Do you have no shame?” He asks, striding toward the bed with a smirk on his face. His hand plays with the towel around his waist, looking ready to drop it at any second; no matter if you tell him to or not. 

You roll your eyes at him. “Do you?” You ask, leaning up on your elbows, jostling Sunfyre who only grumbles unhappily before settling down again. 

He places his hand on his heart, looking at you with mock offense. “Of course I do, I’m a proper gentleman after all,” he says, kneeling on the bed, moving closer to you with every beat of your heart. 

A small snort comes from you and your arms wrap around his neck when he props himself above you slightly. “Yeah and I’m queen of the seven kingdoms.” He hums softly as his lips meet yours,digging into you with everything that he has. Grasping onto your sides and pushing a grumpy Sunfyre out of your lap so that he could take the dog's place. You pull away, hand massaging the back of his neck and the back of his scalp. “How bad do you think this is going to be?” You ask. 

He raises an eyebrow. “On a scale of one to ten?” He laughs and kisses you once more before sliding off of the bed. “Twenty six.”

You flop back down on the pillows, letting out a long sigh. “That’s not reassuring,” you whine before turning your head to watch as Aegon changes. The clothes he takes out are fairly simple, he doesn’t truly care to dress up for his family much. Only for galas or certain restaurants does he care to dress up to the nines, always tempting you throughout the night. 

As you watch him, your fingers start to intertwine and trepidation builds up in your very core. Nervous for the dinner and the looks that Otto has given you for the past month that you two had been at the vacation house. All of them were slimy and cruelly calculating. It was only a matter of time until he mentioned what happened. He had last year and you both had left early, that was the second year you two couldn’t make it through an entire month alone with Aegon’s family.

“Do you think he’ll bring it up again?” You ask Aegon. 

Aegon huffs and you watch as red starts to color his pale cheeks, his fists clenching around a freshly pressed shirt, no doubt wrinkling it. “I hope not.” He shakes his head and scoffs. “He better not or I’ll bash his already flat face in.”

Pushing off of the bed, you walk toward him before wrapping your arms around his thick waist. You press a kiss against his shoulder blade and he looks over at you. “My hero,” you whisper, smiling into his skin. 

The dinner goes as it always does, separate chatter among chosen groups with very little intermingling. Jace talks to you every now and then or even Baela who had only shown up with Rheana two nights ago. Helaena makes an effort to speak to you as well and a few sentences are exchanged between you and Aemond but not enough to win you that bet. 

You don’t converse with Rhaenrya or Daemon, not even to Alicent who wasn’t speaking with anyone. Otto was even talking, seldom only to Helaena and Viserys but that still weighed something. Her shoulders were sagged, the pressure of cooking, cleaning and managing getting to her more over the last week now that the rush of conforming to a new schedule and making sure that everyone was settled was over. She had even taken your request for help when she was cooking dinner, truly showing that she was starting to get into the stressed stages of the trip. 

It's a few minutes later when you all start dessert that Viserys clinks his spoon against his glass and stands. Daemon and Otto sit up in alert, ready to catch the older man should he fall away from his wobbly legs. 

With a groan of pain, Viserys raises up his glass, ready to do a toast that always marks the first month of the trip. 

Alicent stares at Aegon, waiting for something to happen as you both rarely ever stay this long. Normally, you two would have left last week, over all of the bullshit that circles around the family. The bullshit that Aegon says had started his whole drinking problem. 

Viserys clears his throat and a weak smile forms on his lips. “It brings me unattainable comfort to see you all here for these two months. All together again as friends, family, cousins, uncles, fathers and mothers. It’s a sight that I do not get to see often,” he says and you smile warily. 

A quick glance around the table shows that everyone is doing much the same. 

And Alicent is still staring at Aegon. 

Viserys seems to not notice it and his smile only grows bigger, warmer even. No matter if the words that he says are nothing but spit in everyone else's food. “To my family, it is always a joy and pleasure to be around you all.”

He goes to take a sip from his drink and the rest of you go to follow but a whisper makes it to your ears. 

“That’s bullshit,” the whisper snaps. 

The table goes silent, all of you stopping in your very tracks. 

Alicent glares at her son. “Aegon,” she whispers harshly at him but Aegon isn’t looking at her. 

His eyes remained focused on his father, narrowed and of poisoned hate that you almost wonder if Aegon had ever even loved his father. If he had at any point in time, it doesn’t show.  

Stopping his action, Viserys looks at his eldest son. The son that he had killed his first wife for, only to have one with another woman. The son he sought for but never ever truly wanted when it came to competition with his eldest daughter. “What did you say?” He asks, his voice a cold that you had never heard come from him. It didn’t match him; his face, his body, his very demeanor but it sent chills down your back anyways. 

Slowly, Aegon stands up and blue meets blue in a harsh battle of dominance and emotions padded with soft fluff that's finally deteriorated and grown into a poisonous black mold. “I said that’s bullshit. Family,” he scoffs and then shakes his head, “we don’t even know what that word means.”

You reach up and grab his hand, those harsh eyes meet yours and watch blankly as you shake your own head. Not here, you hope he can see. Not here, not now. Not like this. 

He doesn’t seem to understand your meaning and faces his father again. 

“Aegon, sit down,” Alicent says harshly, backing down when Aegon settles a glare on her. 

A dark look painted his features as he shook his head, the jerking motion making you grip tighter on his hand. “No, you might all pretend that this is nothing more than a slight inconvenience but we all know the truth: this is the worst two months of our lives every year.” A cruel laugh passes his lips and he runs a hand through his hair. “Why do you think Daeron never shows up? If you remember him.”

Viserys looks at Aegon, offended. “Of course I do,” he defends quickly, unconvincingly. 

“You liar!” Aego shouts and Viserys flinches. “You know you can have all of the speeches you want but we all know who they’re really for. You’re perfect Rhaenyra.” You glance at the woman, she only looks at the table and Daemon looks at Aegon murderously. “Rhaenyra who has never done anything wrong in her life. The perfect heir, the perfect child. The perfect whore.”

Daemon jerks out of his seat and Jace follows him with a large crashing sound from his fists hitting the table. “That’s enough,” Jace warns. 

Aegon is still only looking at his father. “Come on, those are no Velaryons but they look quite similar to her old bodyguard. What was his name again sister?” He asks, turning toward Rhaenyra. “Harwin? I think that’s it.”

The next to stand is Alicent, fire in her eyes as she leans across the table to look at her son. “Aegon, you have said quite enough. Make your peace and be done with it,” she snaps at him. 

Aegon only nods but it is not submissive, he is far from done. “Yes mother, I have made my peace with Rhaenyra but can you say the same?” He asks her and Alicent doesn’t respond but doesn’t sit down either. Aegon ignores that and looks back at his father. “My perfect wife and my perfect kids, that was what you would say to your clients during galas but it isn’t true is it?” 

He points as he talks, starting with his second brother. “Aemond fucked a woman twenty years older than him and got her knocked up. Helaena is so high all of the time that she can barely walk in a straight line. Daeron is never here, he would rather be anywhere but here!” He shouts.

It is now that he looks at his mother again, a cruel smirk on his face. “Mother—oh mother,” he leans closer to his mother and it is then that you can see just how much they look alike, “you still crave that realm's delight don’t you?”

Viserys bangs his fists on the table. “Sit down Aegon or I swear—

“Swear what?” Aegon snaps. “I always knew I was going to get disowned at some point, so that doesn’t scare me. Perhaps you’ll swear that you’ll make sure my girlfriend has a miscarriage again. Well you and Otto.”

The table goes quiet and tears start to prick at your eyes, phantom pain caused by the tea that Viserys had handed to you that day causing you to taste bile on your tongue. 

The pain comes back tenfold, as does the feeling of blood running down your legs and the screams that tore your throat open as you laid there on the bathroom floor in Rhaenyra’s arms, sobbing profusely as Alicent went out searching for her son.

The ride to the hospital is fresh and clear in your mind. The fact that you could have died is a whisper in your brain, fresh and still cutting jagged lines into you. The doctor had only meant to soothe you but all you had wanted was to join your child in a similar fashion. 

A similar fate. 

The hangover from when you were released from the hospital and went straight toward the bottle is still loud and clear to you. The jackhammer against your skull when you woke up on the couch, curled into Aegon and wanting nothing more than to go home still throbs whenever you look at a bottle of whiskey. 

The funeral had been fast, you didn’t want to be there longer than you had to be. The small, dead baby lying in the even smaller casket had you throwing up. 

Little Aenar Targaryen, a little boy who had never had the chance to take a single breath of air, never got to even meet his parents who loved him like no other. 

Little Aenar Targaryen who never got his little stuffed dragon that his grandmother had made for him—the stuffed dragon that you threw away in a sobbing rage a few months after the funeral—or the room in his new home that you and Aegon had made so meticulously with the help from Helaena, Aemond, Daeron, Alicent and Rhaenyra. Who had never got to see the handmade butterflies Helaena had made him or lie in the crib that took his father and two uncles to build. Never got to see the walls that you, Alicent and Rhaenyra hand painted a wonderful light blue color—the color was no longer there, neither was the crib or the butterflies. 

All because of your blood. Your status. 

Otto would have rather seen you and his great grandchild dead than alive and full of blood not tainted by the blue that he and the rest of his family carried. He hadn’t failed to remind you of such a thing in the years since, only managing to make you and Aegon leave early and not come back until it was necessary. 

Though it wasn’t Otto this time. It was Aegon. 

In all of his pent up rage and padded room full of wrath that were straightjacketed to the walls, the miscarriage had been the biggest and burliest of them all. More likely to burst out of its confinement and it was only second to Aegon’s childhood, full of neglect and mental abuse that had started his drinking problem at the ripe age of twelve.  

A small sniffle and a squeeze of your hand made Aegon look at you and all of the rage went away in a flash. Regret replacing it. “Aegon, stop,” you whispered to him, your voice raspy with the straining effort not to cry. “Please.”

He nods and faces the rest of his family. “Goodnight family, it was a true joy and pleasure to see you again,” he says curtly before storming off, the sound of the dining room doors slamming sounding his departure. 

Pity is all that you see when you look around you after Aegon leaves. Alicent is reaching towards you when you stand up. “Excuse me,” you say before leaving the room swiftly.

Aegon is throwing clothes into your suitcases when you get to your room. Every single item is piled on top of each other but you can't bring yourself to care like normal. “We’re leaving,” Aegon says harshly, clearly expecting it to be someone else. 

“Yeah I kinda figured that,” you whisper and Aegon whips around.

He quickly gathers you in his arms, squeezing you against his body, like he's trying to protect you from his own words. His hand is a soothing and clutching presence as it grips your hair, fingers scratching in the same rhythm as your tears. “I’m sorry. I just—I couldn’t do it anymore,” he whispers to you before placing a kiss on the top of your head.

You pull back and smile slightly when Aegon’s thumbs start to wipe away your tears. “I know but Aegon, do you know what could happen?”

He shrugs. “I get kicked out of the family Christmas picture, that’s the most that he’ll do. The rest of them…I’d leave now just in case Aemond decides to slash my tires,” he jokes and you chuckle at him. 

“That would keep you here,” you quip.

“Of course, perhaps he’ll do it when he passes by Kings Landing on his way back to the Stormlands.”

A laugh bursts out of you. “You’re awful.”

“I know.” He grabs your hand and the suitcase, the rest could be left here, none of it was truly important and Alicent would more than likely send it to you during their second month in this hellscape. “Come on, it’s time to go.”

[hiraeth-sonder]

Wistful Moon - Changting Pavilion

Jingyuan x Reader

We all have to leave one day, he just hopes it won't be too soon

//This wasn't meant to make me cry, why did I cry writing this. This is probably all over the place. Poem is 离思 by 元稹.

曾 经 沧 海 难 为 水, 除 却 巫 山 不 是 云

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

For you to so freely partake in drink should have tipped Jingyuan off to your emotional state much earlier than it did. Albeit, when you were under such lovely lighting and garbed in attire he could only, pathetically, describe as undoubtedly becoming, he found it hard to think of little else, caught up in the sight of your very being.

Your fingers wrapped around your cup of wine, curling into cold ceramic and bringing it to your painted lips, soft and inviting. His eyes keenly follow along the movement, watches your throat bob as you swallow, how when you lower your cup, a bright smile pulls across your face in response to something someone said. He does not think there is anything more beautiful than that smile, and though you have always told him you hated how wide it is, how you keep smiling with too much teeth and how it always happens when you least like it to, Jingyuan adores that smile of yours. It is yours, so wonderfully yours and so wonderfully a symbol of your unadulterated joy. And whenever he sees even the slightest hint of it, that flush that always threatens to expose him starts to tinge his cheeks. 

You turn briefly to take a glance at him, that smile of yours still on your lips and he feels it once more. If only for a moment, you turn away and he does not know whether to thank or curse the aeons for having that sight so fleetingly. 

Another refill of your cup, you drink once more, then another refill. You have come to your fourth cup since the wine has been served, and he worries that at this rate, you will be passed out drunk before the event ends. Jingyuan moves to take your cup away from you, something you respond with a non-committal glare before you slump by his side. Resting your head against his shoulder, he watches your eyes scan the room absentmindedly, as though looking for something, someone. 

It is when his lieutenant returns to your side that he properly comes to the revelation of your drinking. He had just received his military commission, and for someone such as you who has spent the past few years practically raising him as your own, this was a far earlier call than most parental figures experience. The sudden realisation that one day, you may no longer see him at the breakfast table with his horrid bed hair, no longer have him begging for food and pocket change, they surely were not thoughts anyone would like to have so soon (he is not sure whether it is just you feeling as so). 

Your eyes seem to focus on the child’s presence, waving him over as a milder smile now decorated your lips. Yanqing comes to your side, and in a move he clearly did not expect, you wrap an arm around him to pull him close to you, his standing form pressed against your seated one. 

“Qing’er, you’re so big…” You sigh, speech just the slightest melancholic. Reminiscing of days long gone, he thinks he can catch the hint of tears welling at your eyes. “I remember when you were still so small, you always loved it when I would carry you around.”

Yanqing’s cheeks flush at this comment, especially in public, and he splutters to retort back, to say something to brush past the sappy notion. Still, you do not let that stop you, turning your gaze to face him entirely as you hum, “I’m so proud of you, y’know that?”

He only nods, and though it is clear he does not quite know how to respond to your sentiments, he lets you hold him just a little longer, his hand on yours. 

Jingyuan watches on, the quiet moment enhanced by the fact that with so many eyes looking away, the two of you had only looked all the more poignant. He wonders how long this has been weighing on your mind, how much it ached you to keep it inside in fear of the child’s reaction. And though he would love for nothing more than to comfort you, what you needed was not him but to reaffirm Yanqing’s presence. 

It is not long until the festivities die down and the two of you are left with only each other as company. Now certainly allowed more freedom than before, you lay in his embrace, his arms wrapped around you as the Luofu’s simulated moon hangs high in the sky. 

“He’s so big now,” Your voice is hushed, barely a whisper and seemingly meant for only your ears. 

“That he is,” He hums, feeling your fingers play with his hand as though distracting yourself from speaking more. A soft, practically inaudible breath escapes him, his eyes remain on you as he murmurs, “My love, what has gotten you so sentimental?”

There is no response out of you for a moment, merely the sound of your breathing, just the slightest laboured and all too preoccupied with keeping your emotions under lock and key. Yet when he meets your eyes, the dewlets clinging to your lashes and the strained quality of your voice only tortures that heart of his that so ardently belongs to you. 

“I hate thinking about the day you’re no longer with us, or I’m no longer with you two.”

How can he bear to think of such a future as well? Though the two of you are more than aware that it may one day come (after all, neither of you are green in your years), it has been a thought he pushes away every time it surfaces. He has plans for if he is to become mara-struck, plans for if he goes peacefully, but for you, it is different. He would have to strike you down should the former occur, but he does not know whether he would be able to live with it. 

So he pretends it will not happen. He pretends that the two of you have all the time in this world, all the time to watch the moon and lay together side by side. 

All the time in the world for him to memorise your face so that if one day it should really happen, he may be reminded of the joy you brought him, and not the grief your passing will cause. 

“All the better for us to spend what time we have together,” Jingyuan mutters, pulling you closer to him as he nuzzles against you.

You sniff, that smile of yours, bittersweet but still, always, so beautiful presents itself to this world. Your eyes flutter open and close, and eventually he is left with nothing but the slow rise and descent of your chest, soft breathing his lullaby for the night. He traces along the curve of your jaw, the wrinkles of your lips, the marks upon your face, everything that made you. 

You are still clinging to him, so tightly it was almost as though you were afraid that he would leave when your eyes opened in the morning. He does not blame you. 

Looking to the moon, he prays, the first time he has done so sincerely, so desperately, that the three of you will not be ripped apart so soon, that at the very least, make it so that he will be the last to go once more.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

取次 花 丛 懒 回 顾, 半 缘 修 道 半 缘 君

[kairiscorner]

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

holy shock guys you need to restrain me rn

so imagine,

overworked salary man miguel o'hara x reader

day in, day out; from 8 in the morning to 5 in the evening, from monday to friday, miguel o'hara goes to work. not by choice, mind you, but to "serve his purpose in society and keep money and services flowing" for the insatiable society he is cursed to live in. he grumbles every morning when his alarm clock for 6:00 AM on the dot beeps and beeps until he decides to live that morning his mundane existence.

begrudgingly, he gets up and off the bed, dreaming to himself in his half-asleep stupor about how wonderful it'd be to get back under the covers and pretend he didn't have anything worthwhile to do. actually, he didn't need to pretend; his work was just that, anything but worthwhile. miguel has lost track of time on multiple occasions, only checking the calendar when he has nothing to work on, which is incredibly rare, mind you, and the look on his face when he realizes monday wasn't yesterday, for today is now friday.

miguel used to be a more sociable, confident, and sort of cocky guy. before he knew about the turmoils of the real world and lived every day like it was his last, miguel's now counting down his days--many of which has slipped from his mind entirely--until the day of his retirement, or his demise from all the workload he's been getting that seems endless. he wishes he could just have one day where he's not worrying about accounts or reports or having to face empty coffee cups by his table that aren't even his, or having a nosy co-worker look over at his monitor and chuckle about his work and point out his mistakes.

if only he could grab his keyboard and smash it against their heads without any repercussions, he'd do it in a heartbeat. and he'd do it again, and again, and again. he was tired and in need of solitude; though everyone else his age was doing the same thing without audible complaints and without much violent tendencies, he wanted an immediate exit from this hellish routine he was compelled to live out until he reaches his 60's.

he sighs as his virtual assistant, affectionately called lyla, greets miguel every morning--though he wishes he'd hear a voice other than hers the minute he awakes from his slumber, or lack of it. he mumbles back a good morning, not that the AI slept or anything. he makes himself coffee and reluctantly checks his phone for any updates at work. putting on his glasses and squinting, then pulling away from his phone as he adjusted his reading glasses, he deduced that it was the usual mail he received, with a lot of irritating nicknames from his boss. if he could punch him for every time he called him "mike", he'd've murdered him by now. but the man helps him pay his bills and put food on his table, he had to bear it. for a little longer.

miguel sighed as he put away his phone and readied the shower, thinking all the while if he should stop by a convenience store for breakfast or just make some toast. he had some time to kill, maybe he could make himself breakfast. as miguel stepped into the shower, he realized something was wrong. "mierda," he cursed as he grumbled and took off his reading glasses that he brought with him into the shower. all the kinds of things he does when he's out of it are phenomenally funny. yet miserable when you think about he's a man in his early 30's with a dead-end, nowhere job he finds no comfort or excitement in, barely has a social life, no friends that reach out to him for stuff other than high school reunions he has no interest in attending, and no one but a virtual assistant to greet him a good morning like she was coded to do.

miguel sighed as he finished his shower and turned the tap off and dried himself. as he wrapped the towel around his slim waist, he took a peek at the clock by his bedside table. how wonderful, he spent a long while in the shower lamenting his misfortunes, and now, he doesn't have the time to make himself breakfast anymore. could his day get any better?

miguel donned on his white button-up and realized he messed up the order of buttoning his shirt, the bottom most button without its counterpart buttonhole, and the buttonhole on the top most part of his clothing was without its counterpart button. he sighed as he undid his clothing, wishing his office would get rid of this pretentious dress code.

he finally did his buttons right and put on his blazer in an instant not caring to button it yet since he had to catch the commute by 7:00. he took his suitcase and was about to leave his apartment, when lyla appeared and reminded miguel about his dark red and blue striped tie that he left hanging on the backrest of his seat at the dining table. miguel groaned as he re-entered his home, lyla greeting him a welcome home, and him leaving before she could even finish her greeting.

miguel went down the stairs of the underground subway station and huffed as he caught his breath. he used to be so much more active when he was in his 20's, but that version of him has long since died when he signed his soul away to corporate slavery and his only form of exercise now is making his way from his home to the daily commute and back. he tapped his foot against the cement pavements and stood behind the bright yellow line; he hoped he'd make it on time before his boss, his annoying, stupid boss would chew him out for being a minute late again.

there were significantly more people boarding the trains that day, figures, it was a friday–everyone would be eager to go to work for a more rewarding weekend that'd be ahead of them all. however, for miguel o'hara, weekends only last for a minute; that's because he spends them all either finishing up work dumped on him by his extremely incompetent workmates or sleeping all day to make up for the 120 hours he spends in the earlier portion of his week working his ass off.

he barely got any sleep last night, staying up until 1 AM finishing up the organized reports he had to file and sending them to his head manager, that good for nothing, and stayed awake until 4:20 AM, listening to the ceaseless ticking of his bedside clock. insomnia's a thorn in his side, all the time. it also doesn't help that right now, as he's waiting for his daily commute, he felt the lack of sleep catch up with him as he felt his eyelids get heavier and heavier. he opened his mouth a little to yawn, feeling his eyes water as he did, signaling that sleepiness was upon him.

you know, maybe he could just shut his eyes a little and stand right where he is. yeah, he can do that; just giving hid eyes a rest as he–and he just missed his train.

wonderful, fantastic. now there wasn't anyone else on the platform waiting for the next train, it'd take too long. he sighed as he was about to leave, when he heard panting and the clacking of heels coming into the station. "shit!" he heard a voice cry out as the clacking got louder. he watched as you entered the station, exhausted and shaking in the knees. you must've ran a long distance to get here, for your forehead was beading with sweat, your chest rising and falling as you took in copious amounts of air, filling your tired lungs.

"did... did it..." you panted out, your speech broken as miguel approached you slowly, but didn't move any closer when you stood straighter, albeit in a strained and forced manner; pretending not to be panicky right now as your only train that'd get you to where you needed to be on time had just left seconds ago. miguel nodded with a slight frown on his face as he was predicting what follow up insults his buffoon of a boss would throw at him this time for being late, apart from a threat to cut dock him off his pay, or even worse, fire him on the spot–his sloppily done tie? his still tousled hair after probably three bottles of gel? his permanent scowl on his face, and the wrinkles that came with it?

he didn't want to think about it, it gave him headaches every time he thought of it, especially as it was becoming more and more of a reality as he stood there on the station platform with your spent figure from rushing in here, doing nothing. you sighed as you slumped on the mahogany bench nearby, sitting on spilled coffee someone so nicely left for you to sit on. "dammit!" you exclaimed in frustration as you got up, trying to get the stains off, but it merely spread over your clothes, making the mess more noticeable.

miguel wordlessly took off his unbuttoned blazer and offered it to your agitated figure. he looked at you with a nonchalant look on his face. "here, it'll hide the stain." he said as he peered at you, neither amused nor disappointed, just... utterly tired. you hesitated for a moment, but you took his blazer with a nod and a rushed, "thanks" as you wrapped the blazer around your waist and rubbed your face with your hands as you sighed yet again, even longer than the previous one.

"i'm getting fired after this, that's for sure." you murmured as you leaned your back against the wall and shut your eyes as you frowned. miguel, for some reason, joined you by the wall–leaning his own back against the wall and letting out a held in breath. "so am i." he confessed as you looked over at him. "well, guess that makes two of us." you muttered as you looked down at your shoes. "this might not matter to you anymore, but um..." you said as you looked back up at him, who now looked down at you; and as your gazes met, you pointed to his collarbone area. "the... the tie." you spoke as he peered down and noticed that his tie had come undone, what with it hastily being wrapped around his neck.

"well then, a lot of people might have seen it before you did, fuck." he said as he grabbed his tie and fumbled to tie it back on properly, grunting every now and then as his attempts to tie it all ended in failure. you couldn't take it anymore and told him to let you tie it for him. he couldn't resist, seeing as how you wouldn't take no for an answer after watching him fail time and time again.

"you have a... very pretentious looking tie." you remarked with a smirk as you did his tie, with him looking away from you out of embarrassment. a red hue appeared across his cheeks as you said that, and he pushed his glasses up further on his face. "it was a gift from my very competent head manager. they said red and blue were my colors, so they gifted me this. yeah." he rambled with a head scratch. you smiled at his rambling, and as he finished rambling, you finished tying his tie.

"that's better." you said as miguel looked down at his now tied up tie. he raised his eyebrows in an impressed manner. the creases on his tie that were the fruit of his earlier, miserable attempts were obscured. "wow, you... did it so much better than i ever could. thank you." he remarked with a small smile as he took off his glasses and tucked an arm of the glasses behind his button-up's front. he crossed his arms over his chest. "honestly, i'm not scared of getting fired. i'm thrilled about it, actually. i won't have to see those imbeciles at work, gawking over my reports and leaving their trash on my table. i'm just pissed they'll have the satisfaction of cutting me off and not me cutting them off." he said as he looked at your face and down at your waist where his blazer was embracing your curves.

"and... so am i." you said in a rather surprised voice as you said it–almost as if you yourself didn't realize you also hated your job, didn't like nor relate to your brainless co-workers who were suck ups to your equally shitty boss. miguel gazed over at you. "if you want to... wanna get some breakfast with me?" he asked in a gentle, almost as a whisper, tone. "it's okay if you don't want to, i just didn't get breakfast this morning–" "i'd love to." you said as you smiled up at him. "i'll tender my resignation letter all the while." you said as you looked at him with shining eyes. miguel smiled wider than before, hearing your words. he might've just made a new acquaintance... one with a brain and a heart, and has also had enough bullshit from horrible working conditions. he'd be lying if he said he wasn't interested in getting to know you, though.

"um... what's your name?"

a/n: NANAMI KENTOIFIED OUR MIGGY O'HARA LET'S GOOOOOO

@thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @luvstarrstruck@binibinileonara

[myseungsunglove]

When darkness comes, you’re always there | Ksm

Pairing: Seungmin x Reader

Warnings: angsty feelings with fluffy comfort

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: It's been one of those days where your demons win every argument. Beat you down and remind you how worthless you are. There’s only one person who offers any solace when you get this lost and that's Kim Seungmin.

A/N: I had a really rough day on the day I wrote this. Like colossally shitty. I spent the better half of it crying alone in bed wishing I had something like this. So, as my own form of therapy, I wrote.

◠ ◡ ◠᭚ιαᵕ̈

Feedback Welcome

「© August 1, 2023 by myseungsungheart」

Some days you lose yourself and can’t remember how to get back to the light. The darkness consumes you, swallows you whole, and you’re certain you’ll be lost forever.

Today is one of those days. Seungmin has been home late every night this week, and today your brain decided it was the perfect time to wage war on you. It’s a full on assault and you find yourself defenseless and spiraling before you even know what hit you. Every horrible and self deprecating thought you’ve ever had seems to be joining the party. You’re sure you must be a nuisance to everyone around you. The boys, even Seungmin. You convince yourself that that’s why he has been coming home at three in the morning, so he doesn’t have to deal with you. Your polluted mind is certain this must be the truth and the reality that Seungmin is busy preparing numerous events for STAY can’t break through the dark lies that your brain is weaving so intricately.

You haven’t crawled out of the bed, drank water, or eaten a thing today. It’s nearing 10 pm at this point. The rational side of you knows the lack of food and water only compounds the problem and the intense feelings you’re experiencing, but rational you is not in charge today. You curl up into yourself, blankets wrapped tightly around your shoulders and up over your head, seeking solace in puppy m and sob. You’ve sobbed for hours without relenting at this point, and you wonder briefly just how much more liquid could come out of a person who is as dehydrated as you currently must be.

At some point you fall asleep, exhausted from the emotional turmoil of the day.

Something wakes you around 1, but you don’t really register it in your sleepy haze. You're hit with an enormous headache from the lack of any kind of nutrients for the better part of 24 hours and you realize that you’re still alone in bed. No Seungmin. The tears are flowing once more and you’re sure you’ve turned into a never ending water fountain at this point.

Your sobs are pathetic, racking your entire exhausted body. They aren’t loud, but they are mournful. You hadn’t fallen into a hole like this in a while. Seungmin kept you grounded in reality, but he’d been gone so much lately you had nothing to grab onto.

You feel the bed dip, the blanket lifting from your back as a body slides in behind you, arms sliding around your waist. Seungmin. He pulls you back firmly against his chest, his knees slotted in behind yours, his face burying in your neck.

“Shhh baby, I’m here,” he whispers. The pain and worry in his voice are evident. “How long have you been like this?” he asks, brushing your hair to the side and kissing you softly behind the ear. When you don’t respond, only sob harder, he squeezes you tight. “Did something happen?” he questions.

“No,” you choke out. “I’m just worthless is all,” you manage between sobs. “So annoying you don’t even want to come home,” you cry, curling more into yourself.

“What? Why would you ever think that?” Seungmin asks, genuine hurt in his voice.

You roll over then, and his hand moves to your chin, lifting your eyes to his.

“Baby, you know I’m direct. If I ever felt those things, the words would come out of my mouth. And they haven’t. Ever. Not once. Because they’re not true,” he pleads, his eyes darting back and forth between yours. “I know I’ve been working so late because of all the preparations for STAY, and I've managed to miss the signs that the most important person in my life is spiraling,” he says, clearly beating himself up. “I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, his lips pressing gently against yours as if he’s afraid he might break you with his touch.

The kiss sends a warmth through you that you haven’t felt all week, your arms moving to embrace him, snaking around his waist and onto his back to press him as close to you as possible. You want to melt into him because that feels like a safer place than your own toxic brain and body at the moment. He pulls away after several minutes of being glued to you, realizing how dry your lips are. He takes in your appearance, seeing the sheen of clammy sweat on your skin and pale color.

“Y/n, have you eaten or drank anything today?” he asks, his worry renewing as he looks into your eyes.

All you can manage is a broken sob and a small shake of your head as you hide from him and burrow into his chest.

“Shit, baby,” he curses, kissing your temple. He unwraps himself from you. When you whimper at the loss of his warmth he reassures you. “I’ll be right back, I promise,” he says, placing a chaste kiss on your lips and turning to leave the room.

He’s back quicker than you can fully register his absence, a water bottle filled with filtered water in hand. He puts out his hand, asking for yours, and you reluctantly take it and allow him to pull you into a sitting position. He sits beside you, handing you the bottle, his hand resting on your thigh, rubbing up and down soothingly.

“Drink,” he commands, leaving no room for discussion. You tentatively suck on the straw, the cool liquid hitting your throat and you groan a little at the relief it provides. Suddenly you realize the desert your body has become, and you're guzzling the water down. “Don’t make yourself sick,” he warns, noticing your reaction.

You slow down and pull away from the water bottle reluctantly, a small sigh emitting from you as you pull oxygen into your tired lungs.

“God I’m hungry,” you realize, your stomach now growling after the water intake. Your head is pounding from the abuse you’d put it through over the last 24 hours. You hated these spirals and what they did to you. You hated more that it made you feel like you had no control over anything.

“I’d imagine so. When’s the last time you ate jagiya?” Seungmin asks, no accusation in his voice, just concern.

“I honestly don’t remember,” you admit. “With you maybe,” you rack your brain. Yes, you had eaten breakfast with Seungmin yesterday morning. It had been at least 40 hours since you ate, you suddenly realized which immediately made the headache make sense.

“Goddamit,” Seungmin cursed, grabbing his phone from the night stand. “I can’t believe I let this happen. Fucking…” he trailed off as he typed furiously in his phone. You could see him beating himself up for the decisions you had made over the last two days.

“Seung, you didn’t let anything happen. I’m a grown woman. I should be able to take care of myself,” you said, your fingers on his chin pulling his gaze up to yours and momentarily away from his phone.

“I know that, but I needed to be here for you, and I wasn’t,” he growls, finishing whatever he was doing on his phone. “But that ends now. I just told Chan I needed a few days off. I need to be with you right now,” he says, his voice softening again.

“You don’t have to…” you stammered.

“I want to,” he says firmly, his hand reaching for yours and squeezing it. “Foods on its way too,” he adds, standing up, and pulling you along with him. “Let’s get you a shower before it gets here,” he encourages and you groan because you’re exhausted from the day’s emotions and also disgusting. “I’ll help,” he assures you, guiding you to the bathroom.

Seungmin is a perfect gentleman as he steps into the shower with you, taking care to wash your hair and body, no other agenda in mind tonight than to make sure you’re okay.

When he is finished and you’re rinsed and clean once more, he steps out of the shower, draping a towel around his hips, and grabbing yours. You take it from him and wrap it around you, tucking it under your arms. He leans in then and kisses you softly, his lips moving reverently against yours. His phone dings on the counter, signaling the arrival of your food.

“Ah, dinner. Finally,” he smiles down at his phone. “Get comfy and I’ll grab the food off the stoop,” he says as you walk out of the bathroom together. You throw on one of Seungmin’s t-shirts and a pair of his boxers and shuffle down the hall into the living room. Seungmin is setting out a shit ton of food when you pad in, looking up at you with a beaming smile on his face, and you momentarily wonder who delivers this late in the night.

“Babe, I’ll never eat all that,” you can’t help but laugh.

“I haven’t eaten since, hell, I can’t remember. I’m starving,” he chuckles.

You realize then just how busy he’s been if he hasn’t stuck to his pretty rigid schedule he keeps for himself and reality hits you as you allow yourself to understand it fully. The thoughts that consumed you earlier in the day and night are slowly losing their grip on you. You let out a sigh of relief.

“Go put on some clothes, Seung,” you say, bumping your hip against his and shooing him down the hall. “I’ll get us plates and chopsticks and something to drink,” you assure him, and he scurries down the hall, towel hanging from his hips and droplets of water still clinging to his broad back as his feet shuffle along the hardwood quickly. He’s gone no time at all, before he returns in a pair of black basketball shorts and a white t-shirt. Your tip toeing to get the plates and bowls down, and you feel him press against your back and reach up for them. He kisses your neck and moves to head back toward the living room.

“Let’s eat,” he says, smacking your ass gently and you playfully slap his hand away, your mood already much improved from Seungmin’s presence, the water, and the shower. It’s amazing how the simple act of taking care of your basic needs can shift your mentality. You grab a couple drinks from the fridge, chopsticks and a couple spoons from the drawer.

You both retreat into the living room, sitting on the floor by the table by the couch. Seungmin plates your food for you, knowing all the things you like and hands it to you before loading up his own. He smiles happily at you as he digs in.

“Now, I’m all yours for the next three days baby,” he smiles before taking a bite. “Let’s sort that pretty little head of yours out, and I promise I won’t miss something like this again,” he vows, chastising himself.

“Seung,” you start, but he shakes his head.

“Let me do this, okay y/n?” he practically pleads. He needs to take care of you. It’s like it’s coded into his dna or something.

“Of course, jagiya,” you smile, leaning across the table and kissing him quickly.

You're so thankful you have Kim Seungmin in your life. He’s grounded you back to reality many times before and you’ve done the same for him in his times of doubt. You weren’t sure how you got so damn lucky, but you’d thank whatever god you needed to over and over again to keep your Seungmin.

Tags: @krishastumblernow @ohish

[tklpilled]

aether’s never been on a proper date before. honestly, he’s never even had a partner before, or…whatever he and xiao are. he thinks it’s normal to be nervous, but he doesn’t want to be. he knows xiao. it’s not like this is a first meeting or anything, right? just a normal dinner together. with romantic feelings attached.

after kicking paimon out and leaving her for itto to babysit (which really just means shinobu is babysitting them both), he began cooking. he spent the entire day before stressing over the decorations in his teapot home, wondering whether xiao would like them, and while he’s still uncertain, there’s not much more he can do. he prepares practically an entire feast—grilled tiger fish, adeptus’ temptation, jade parcels, stir fry, and of course he tries his hand at almond tofu—anything he can think of that xiao might like. so, maybe it’s a bit of an overkill, but at least paimon will eat all the leftovers.

xiao arrives at their planned meeting spot exactly on time, not a second early, not a second late. aether perks up as soon as the familiar dark mist appears in front of him.

“you’re here!” he exclaims, jumping to his feet.

“did you think i wouldn’t be?” asks xiao, quirking an eyebrow.

aether invites him into his teapot, where the sun sets over a table for two, surrounded by a variety of trees and flowers. he’s lit candles around the area, giving it a welcoming ambience.

“oh, unless you’d rather be inside!” aether quickly adds, gestures towards the mansion.

he thinks he sees a tiny smile appear on xiao’s face. “this is fine.”

…so.

ugh, aether should have practiced for this.

they eat without saying much, aside from xiao thanking him for the food with the occasional compliment, in his own xiao-like way. it's somehow not overwhelmingly awkward—which isn't to say it's not awkward, but it's tolerable.

as he finishes his food, aether's mind starts to wander. he hasn't planned anything aside from this. will xiao leave right away? will he stay to talk? probably not, he's not exactly social, but aether can't think of anything to say and he absolutely can not have them sitting in complete silence for the rest of the night.

there's a squeeze on his knee and he yelps, kicking his leg out and accidentally banging it on the underside of the table. he looks up, embarrassed.

xiao keeps his hand where it is. “stop doing that,” he says, nodding at aether's leg. it's only then that aether notices just how violently he's been bouncing it.

“o-oh,” he stammers, nodding. “sorry.”

he expects that to be the end of it, but xiao gives him a curious look. he doesn't have time to question what it means before he feels another squeeze. his reaction this time isn't as dramatic, but it's still noticeable; he makes a surprised sound, his leg jerking once more.

“what’s wrong?” asks xiao, leaning in close, which makes aether squeak and nearly fall off his chair. “you aren’t injured, are you?”

aether shakes his head frantically. “n-no, not that, it’s just ticklish! nothing bad, you don’t have to—ack?!”

“i’m familiar with the term, i believe,” says xiao, looking down at his hand, which has just squeezed again. “it’s something humans do with those they’re fond of, yes?”

“um.” aether can’t do much but stare at him, cheeks growing hotter by the second. he thinks he knows where this is going. finally, he nods. “y-yes, that’s right.”

“then, traveler,” xiao looks up, locking eyes with him, “why don’t we do it?”

well, aether has a hard time saying no to that face.

they end up inside the mansion, in the farthest room from the entrance. no one else is around, but xiao locks the door behind them anyway. aether almost feels trapped, but he doesn’t hate it.

“so,” xiao starts, once he’s straddling aether’s waist on the bed. “i simply…squeeze?” he accompanies his words with a pinch to aether’s side.

the blond flinches. “w-well, it’s hard to explain…certain spots are more sensitive to certain methods.” he feels uncomfortable and embarrassed explaining tickling of all things, but xiao listens intently and nods.

“i see,” he says. “such as what?”

“um, well,” aether starts, shifting a little. “like this?” he reaches out and places a hand on xiao’s side, skittering his fingers up to his ribs.

xiao stiffens, eyes widening slightly. “right,” he says, his voice a little shaky.

“or like this.” aether starts to poke his fingers in the spaces between ribs, but his wrist is pulled away.

“i understand,” xiao insists, cheeks flushed a little. aether can’t help but laugh at the sight of someone so composed in such a state.

xiao, to be frank, isn’t great at tickling. he’s inexperienced and hesitant, but aether is ticklish enough to make up for it. 

“if you’re so ticklish, why do you leave your stomach exposed?” xiao asks, tracing his fingers along the bare skin. he’s getting better as he goes, seemingly fuelled by aether’s reactions.

“i-it’s nohohot like i’m ahasking for ihihit!” aether protests, trying his hardest to keep his hands out of the way. xiao hasn’t restrained them, but he doesn’t want to make it stop just yet. maybe he’s having a little bit of fun. sue him.

“you clearly enjoy it, at least.” xiao isn’t looking at aether’s face, more focused on what his hands are doing. “you’re letting me do this.”

“th-thahahat—xiahahahao!” aether squeals as a finger pokes his navel experimentally, before going back to dancing along his tummy. “thahat’s because ihihit’s yohou!” he feels himself blushing as he admits it. he’s glad that at least xiao doesn’t have much shame.

“i think it’s…rather cute,” xiao admits. “i enjoy hearing you laugh.”

aether makes an embarrassed whining sound. “l-lehehet me tickle yohou next tihihime! it’s ohonly fahair!” he's not sure what it is — a threat? a challenge? either way, he plans to tickle xiao one way or another, no matter how much the adeptus insists that he's not ticklish.

he can't worry about it now, though, because xiao has just figured out that light touches work wonders, and it's absolutely awful. with anyone else, it's torture — but with xiao, somehow, it feels like love.

[l3m0ncyan]

If only

Marc Spector x Platonic! Reader, Steven Grant x Platonic! Reader, Jake Lockley x Platonic!Reader

Reader is gender neutral

Summary: After a huge argument between you and Marc, you two go without speaking for weeks. Until one day, the Moon system is missing and you go out looking for them to bring them back and apologize.

Note: Inspired by The Last of Us >:) also its more Marc x teen!reader tbh

Word count: 8,357 (gaahd daaamn)

Warning: ANGST, death, graphic, mentions of suicide

—————————————————————

Standing above your city, you looked down at the passing small cars and pedestrians. Each of them had their own story, and you wondered how they were doing. If they were going through what you were going through.

Each thought brought you closer to the edge of the abyss than you were already. The wind tried to blow you back as if to save you from your actions.

However, why should you be saved? Your parents were killed by a villain, and you spent your entire life trying to make them happy. But they had vanished, as had your motivation. You had no one else to love you the way they did.

You missed them so dearly that all you wanted to do was go and see them.

After reaching an acceptance, you lifted your foot off the cement, ready to free fall into peace.

“Are you alright?” You heard a man's voice come from behind you.

You turn around to see the same man dressed entirely in white. He was wrapped in cloth and wore what appeared to be body armor on parts of his body. A golden crest adorned the center of his chest. In addition to his costume, his mask featured two white glowing orbs.

“If I was, I wouldn’t be thinking about jumping off,” you say. He nods, admitting his obvious question. 

Without much thought, you look back to the edge and lift your foot up once again.

He extends his hand immediately as a deterrent to you continuing. "Wait, I know you might feel like there's nothing else to live for; believe me, I've felt that way before. But how will you know that the finish line was a better end if you just stop here?"

You keep quiet and just observe him. The wind howls, as if to say, take his hand and listen to what this man has to say. It wasn't what he said that made you reconsider, but rather how he attempted to save you. Why you?

You step off the ledge and take a step toward him. You can see him almost breathe out in relief. 

His mask vanishes, and you are startled before seeing a man with dark brown curly hair and tanned skin. He appears firm, but his eyes convey kindness.

You reach out to him and take his hand in yours.

—-----

It was the middle of winter and spring four years later. The cold and plush feel of the sheets was incredible. The blanket on top of them kept you close and let you know you were safe.

However, a masculine voice broke all that peace. A well-known one at that.

“Hey, wake up”

The sound of metal rubbing against metal indicated that the curtains were being pulled apart, signaling the end of your comfort. You drew the blanket up to shield your face from the sun's rays.

It was immediately pulled down, and your body balled into a fetal position as the winter cold engulfed you. As you slowly opened your eyes, you noticed Marc holding your blanket away from you. As the drowsiness faded, you reached out an arm to reclaim it, but he yanked it away.

"I know the bed is comfortable, but it's time to go, kid." Marc draped the blanket over the bedframe. He then exited the small room and entered the main part of the apartment.

You sat up slowly, your bones cracking as you did so. You looked out the window, blinking away the sleepiness, to see the day was sunny but cold.

Groaning, you stood up and walked out of your room. You slowly shuffled towards Gus’s tank, grabbing the small plastic can of fish food.

“Already fed them,” a chipper voice was heard.

Looking through the fish tank to the kitchen, you noticed Steven preparing something on the stove. Giving a quick hum, you placed the food back on top of the tank.

“Morning to you, Gus," you said as you lightly tapped the glass of the tank.

You walked to the kitchen to catch a scent of what Steven was cooking.

"Good morning, you three." You sat at the table, awaiting breakfast.

Steven approached you, carrying a plate of vegan sausage and eggs with toast. "Eat up, you and Marc are-”

"Are we going to patrol again? But it's light out and people are walking around," you said as you picked up a piece of vegan meat from the plate with a fork.

"The guys who were trying to catch only happen to come out during the day. So you'll be bait," Marc clarified as he sat down and started eating from his plate.

“Like always,” You grumbled

You guys continued to eat your breakfast before getting ready to start your days.

—

You tried looking for the location that Marc mentioned earlier for today's small mission while walking side by side through the streets of London. Even though it was later, the cold was still with you two, so you wore two layers of clothing.

Shivering, you pulled the collar of your hoodie up to your chin to get warmth. “So who is it we’re trying to stop?”

"A group has been kidnapping people for human trafficking," Marc says before motioning to a table with two seats in front of a cafe.

You two sat at the table, puzzled as to why you were there.

"That's bad. And a coffee break?" As you leaned back in your chair, you said

Marc shakes his head and motions to a building under construction. It was surrounded by a green fence and a large tarp sign with the name of the construction company.

"That's where they're meeting; for now, we'll just wait for them to turn up." Marc reclines in his metal chair.

A waitress approaches and starts asking about your orders. Marc takes the lead as he examines the menu. Meanwhile, you're too preoccupied with looking behind Marc.

Behind him was a table filled with students your age. Each of them had a drink in front of them, and one of them appeared to make a joke based on the way everyone began to laugh.

You couldn't help but be envious of the scene. You were young but mature enough to attend college. However, you were unable to attend one due to a number of factors. As a result, you found it difficult to make friends or socialize with people your own age. Instead, you were with Marc, fighting bad guys.

A voice sounding muffled slowly became clear and snapped you back into reality, “Y/N”

Blinking in realization, you saw Marc and the waitress staring at you, waiting.

"What do you want, kid?" Marc inquired, sounding less annoyed and more patient.

"Oh, I'll just get some matcha tea." You looked up at the waitress for confirmation, and she nodded and walked away.

You two sat in silence, your gaze fixed on the group. Marc noticed as well after following your eyes.

“Anything on your mind?” He turned back to you.

You slightly jumped at how Marc was able to notice you in deep thought, “Nothing really…..actually there is something I’ve been meaning to ask you”

 Marc raised a brow and asked, “What is it?”

You shrank, not expecting to be able to speak, and said, "Uh, so I was wondering if I could go back to school..."

Marc stared at you and said, “College?”

You nodded, and the waitress returned with your drinks before you could explain further. You two exchanged an awkward smile before she asked if that was all. She returned to the cafe with just a nod from you two.

“How long have you been thinking about it?” Marc questions that once you two are alone again,

"For a while now," you cross your arms and lean back, your gaze fixed on the road and passing cars.the street and passing cars. "I was thinking I could fit it in on days when you don't need me and I'm stuck at home all day."

You say the last part with annoyance, which Marc notices.

Marc sighs, “Y/N…”

"I know you say that being out in public makes it easy for bad people to find me, but I guarantee you that I can handle myself." You put your elbows on the table to get closer to Marc so he can listen better.

“Y/N”

“I won’t get too many classes!”

“Y/N”

"I'll even stay late to patrol with you guys, and-"

“No!” Marc raises his voice.

You don't mind that a few people in the cafe are now staring at you two. You look down at your untouched cup of matcha, angry rather than sad. Marc sighs, running his hand through his hair.

"We can't risk problems like that; college might make things worse, and you won't be able to handle it on your own if something goes wrong," Marc declares.

You remain silent and stare down at your cup. Marc looks at you, his lips pursed in guilt. He tries to think of ways to break the tension, but nothing comes to mind.

A few cars speed up but then slow down to turn around in front of the previous building. Two men enter and take a look around before closing the gate to the entrance.

"Are you ready to go?" Marc casts a glance your way, but you avoid his sights.

"Please, just—...  We'll finish this job and then talk about college, okay?" Marc nearly begged.

Looking back up, you made eye contact, thinking about it before nodding, “Okay”

—

After going over the plan again, you were sent to speak to the group. A few men stood guard by the gate, watching you as you approached. "Hey, I believe I was told to come here?" You looked around and pointed to your phone.

"Another way she's getting people in?" one of the men asks the other.

"She?" You thought to yourself, "This is the first time I hear a girl is leading shit."

“Yeah, follow us” the man finally says and the gate opens, letting you two in.

You look behind you to see if Marc is nearby, but he isn't. You already know he's hiding and trust that he'll be there every step of the way, but being alone for this part is terrifying.

They lead you to the first floor of the unfinished structure. Because it isn't built, the walls aren't there, allowing the wind to blow inside. It is detrimental to your body's temperature.

Looking around, there are a few wooden tables with guns on top of them. It was clear that the group didn't care that it was out in the open.

When they notice you looking at the weapons, they zip tie your hands together without a warning. You struggle to pull your hands apart. The friction you create against the plastic causes your wrist to burn.

“What the fuck?! Get these off!” You give your best acting.

"Shut up, you guys always yell too loud and it's making me deaf," grunts the man. "Let her know that we have another one."

A man nods and walks away. The man walks towards you, pulling a chair to himself and sitting on it backwards. 

“Well get comfortable, because it’ll be the-“

"Will this be the last time?" You scoff, shaking your head. You didn't care if it messed up the plan; you were still irritated with Marc.

"You guys just don't know how to make conversation." you moan

"Looks like you're not scared anymore," the man says with a small laugh. "Can you tell me your name, kid?"

"Ew, don't call me a kid, and why does it matter what my name is? You're just going to change it, or however human trafficking works."

This time, the man laugh loudly, "Human trafficking?! That has nothing to do with what we plan to do."

A group walks in on cue, and a woman holds a long object wrapped in cloth. “We found it! Call Vanessa!”

You take a look around and notice how pleased everyone is with the info they have got. You're curious on what everyone is so excited about. Another woman walks in, her ginger hair tied in a tight ponytail. She's dressed in a dark green tank top, cargo pants, and combat boots. The thing is, she's your age.

At this point, it is obvious who is the leader of the whole situation and who they call Vanessa.

She walks by and glances at you and asks, “How many do we have now?”

“About 14, you think that’s enough?” The man from before stands up from the chair.

“We’ll see” Vanessa grabs the object and begins to unwrap it. 

You concentrate on the mystery item because some of the colors show through each time the cloth is unwrapped. Your eyes then widen with each repetition.

Unwrapped, Vanessa holds up a cane. A cane with a crocodile head on top. 

You recall Steven telling you about a fight he and Marc had with a man named Harrow. With the assistance of a goddess named Ammit, he used a cane similar to the one now in use to murder people.

Marc assured you that it had been destroyed and that you were safe, but are you still safe?

The way the two explained the power it possessed scared you. Jake, on the other hand, terrified you with his explanation of the world's future if it returned.

“Bring them to me, we’ll test it out” Vanessa says as she grips the cane.

You blink and realize what is about to happen. Two men lift you up and drag you towards Vanessa.

“Get off!” You try to get away from their grip but they tighten their hold. You search up and around the place, hoping Marc or Steven is there.

Vanessa brings the top of the cane towards your face. You move your head back to escape, but Vanessa keeps drawing it closer. 

Marc nor Steven nor Jake were seen. Since they were taking long, you acted on your own.

You use your right hand to pull out the pocket knife you're carrying. You take out the blade and force it through the loop of the zip tie on the plastic. With your hands free, you flip the knife around and aim it at one of the guys' thigh. You slam it into their femur, eliciting a scream from the man.

Both men lose their grip and you stand up, swinging the knife at the other man’s throat. As they back away, more come.

Vanessa glares at you before she tries to use the cane. It starts to glow and you back up into a corner. Theres nowhere to go as the rest of the group surrounds you.

Before Vanessa could send you flying, Marc comes in and side-kicks her down. The cane clatters to the floor and skids across the room. 

She lifts herself up and looks at Marc with hatred, "Its you"

Looking at Marc in his suit, he swings left and right at the men. A few members of the group appear from behind you while he is busy. You duck the punches with your knife in hand and target specific areas of their body with the blade.

With the last one dropping to the floor, you catch your breath and look over to see Marc still fighting. To your right is a woman shooting at him but of course not working. Still, it is throwing Marc off course as he fights.

You rush up to her, wrapping your arm around her neck and stabbing her in the stomach. As her body falls limp, she drops the gun to the floor.

Marc notices and finishes off the last man before walking to you.

“Let’s go” He says harshly

“They have the cane, we could get it back” You gesture to where the cane is.

“Let’s go!”

You both go quiet as you hear a loud buzzing sound. As if something is powering up. Turning around, you see Vanessa pointing the cane towards you two, a purple light glowing brighter and brighter.

Not hesitating, Marc picks you up before running out of the building and flies off the ground. A blast passes you two just missing by a bit.

Vanessa glares at you two as you make a break for it.

“Get more ready” she commands the last of her team standing, “He’s going to come back for this”

She holds the cane tightly in her hand, the metal crocodile shining from its polished material.

——

Marc set you down at the apartment after you kicked and squirmed in his grasp. His suit vanished, and he began to walk away from you, hands on his hips, looking down.

"I told you to stick to the plan," he said, his voice deep within his throat. You can almost feel the lingering anger from it.

"I did, but as you saw back there, I was almost killed!" you scrunch up your face as you set your sweater down and sit on the couch. "And I did just fine on my own," you crossed your arms and turned your gaze away from him.

"Really?" he scoffs, "Because it looked like you were being cornered back there, with what? A knife?" He mocked

You try to get a word in but right now Marc is blowing up, “You straight up ignored what I asked of you and almost got yourself killed!”

“But I didn’t,” you say firmly, looking straight into his eyes.

Marc bites his cheek and shakes his head, “You can forget about college”

“What?!” You stand up from the couch.

"You heard me, if I can't trust you to follow a simple plan, how can I trust you to go somewhere as simple as class?"

"Oh, so just because I decided to stand up for myself, you don’t trust me anymore?” 

You raised your eyebrows at him, and you both glared at each other. Steven could feel the tension rising and knew things were about to get out of hand. He made the decision to take control of the body right away.

Marc’s composure became timid and soft, and you knew why. Looking up at Steven, he gave a small, one sided smile.

“How about we cool off shall we?” He patted you on the shoulder and began to walk to the kitchen, “Ill make us lunch alright? How does that sound?”

He turned to you with a grin but you stared down to the floor and mumbled, “Im not hungry”

From there, you marched up to your room and shut the door.

“You two could have just talked it through,” Steven sighed.

Jake hummed in response, while Marc stayed quiet. 

“You guys might not be related but you sure act like father and daughter”

-

You sat on your bed, your gaze fixed on the wall across from you. There were a few posters and wall decorations, such as shelves with figurines, but directly across from you was a picture of you and Marc at a lake. Jake was cooking kebabs on the grill in the picture next to it. Another picture of you with Steven and Layla.

Just one mistake, and now you've lost the chance to get a normal sense of life. Lost the ability to make friends. Lost the ability to experience so many things all together.

As your thoughts ate you up, you felt a burst of wind. Soon after Khonshu was sitting at your desk that was in the corner of your room. He held his staff and looked at you, waiting for you to acknowledge his presence.

“Why are you here?” You said annoyed.

“I came to see if you might have been climbing through the window again.” He set the staff down, making it lean on the wall.

“You know about me sneaking out?”

“Yes, but don’t worry, I haven’t told your three fathers out there.” He slightly chuckled.

Your face scrunched up, “Don’t say that, you’ll probably jinx it”

After that, there was silence, and Khonshu exhaled, "They're just trying to protect you, especially Marc." They all do care about you”

“If they did care about me, they wouldn’t keep me locked up here,” you say, looking over to the window, seeing how it's still sunny out there.

Khonshu hesitates before continuing “...I know I shouldn’t say this but the reason why he has been keeping you safe is because he sees his younger brother in you” 

“He has a brother?”

“Had” he clarifies.

"Marc blames himself for his death and never forgave himself, despite the fact that he was only a child," Khonshu continues. "Perhaps that's why he wants to protect you and heal that wound."

You wrapped your head around what he said and only got angrier, “...So the real reason he kept me around was to use me as some kind of therapy?” 

Khonshu paused, “That isnt’t what I said”

“Well thats what it sounds like” you laugh and run your hands through your hair. You stand up from your bed and grab your other hoodie from your dresser and walk to the window.

“Where are you going?” Khonshu stands up, grabbing his staff in the process.

“Just– leave me alone” After you open the window and climb out onto the fire escape.

You descend the escape and walk to the place where you go to be alone. It’s a 20 minute walk from the flat but it’s worth it. It is an abandoned building with a stable flight of stairs leading to an open area with views of London. You walk over to the edge and sit, allowing your legs to dangle. Normally, you do this at night, but because the sun is shining, all you can do is stare at the sky and think.

-

As night falls, you can hear heavy footsteps ascending. When you turn your head, you see Marc in his white suit. His mask falls away, and you can see a sense of relief wash over him. His chest heaves as if he's just flown all over town looking for you. That he did.

You begin to stand up and he rushes towards you. He examines your face to see if your fine and then brings you into a hug.

“What the hell, you don’t just run off like that without telling me or sending me a text” he breathes out.

It would have been nice, but remembering what Khonshu said makes the embrace seem insincere. He was hugging his brother instead of you. You push him away, and he is taken aback but maintains his distance.

“Im tired, and I just want an explanation…” you finally say

Marc nods and asks, “Is it about college? Is that why you left?”

"Part of it” You breathe out, "But that’s not what I wanted to talk about”

“Then what is it?”

You take a moment to find the words but they aren’t hard to find. This makes Marc nervous though.

“Why did you save me?”

It went quiet, Marc looked at you confused, “What?”

“Back when we met, I was going to jump off that building, but you came and talked me out of it.” You hold your ground as you stare at him.

Marc stays quiet and you take that chance to continue talking, “I was supposed to die that day, I already had no plans for my life so I was ready. Instead, you came and saved me, why?”

“…I couldn’t just let you throw your life like that“ 

You scoffed, “Then tell me it was for me and not your brother”

Marc’s eyes widened and his jaw clenched, “Khonshu told you about my brother?”

You nodded, “So that’s why you saved me? To get closure or something?”

“No, Y/N I-“ 

“Then what?! Why was I so different that you had to save me?!” you said impatiently.

This time, you shoved him back. He stumbled but stayed on his feet.

“I’m now stuck here dealing with the bad part of the world again! I can’t even make friends because you think I’ll get hurt! And I have to live with hiding from everyone and everything, because of you!”

You try to shove him again, but Marc grabs your hands and pulls them away from you. He was hurt, but discovering the cane was back and failing to stop it was drowning it out. He didn't mean to say what he was about to say.

"Well, I couldn't just let you jump off and end up being a flat piece of meat! What?! Did you want to be another name on the list of people who couldn't deal with life anymore?!"

Taken aback, you step back. Marc notices what he said and closes his eyes in regret, “Kid, I didn’t mean to say that”

“…I should have jumped off faster,” you finally say, “I wish we had never fucking met”

Marc's lips part slightly and only stares at you. He forgets about earlier today and is only focused on you. How there are tears falling from your eyes when they only come out when you two are watching a sad movie. How you are angry when that only happens when you lose at Mario Kart. All these innocent reasons were out of the picture because he had said something he shouldn’t have.

“Y/N..” he reaches out to you but you slap his hand away.

"Don't fucking touch me," your words sting and tense Marc.

You walk past him and walk down the stairs, wiping all the tears with the sleeve of your sweater. Meanwhile Marc stays frozen in the same spot.

-

It’s been two weeks since your argument with Marc. Steven and Jake have taken turns in taking care of you since Marc decided to go AWOL.

He didn't do it because he wanted to; he did it because he knew you despised him. Despised him for never telling you the whole truth about your saving. But most importantly, for insulting your feelings.

The real reason you were angry with him wasn’t that he saved you. It was because he didn’t save you for you.

You were actually angry with him the first week. You didn't want to deal with him. You purposefully ignored him for the first week, only calling out to the other alters. When this happened, Steven and Jake felt terrible and looked at Marc, who only hid.

However, by the second week, all of that rage had vanished. You were no longer angry with him; instead, you missed him. You wanted to apologize, but you assumed he despised you because of the harsh words you used.

It was now raining and cold. It was like Mother Nature knew you were feeling gloomy and wanted to make it worse. You climbed out of bed and looked outside to the storm that was passing through. You frowned and turned to the door of your room.

You peeked to what was the rest of the apartment. It was quiet with only the bubbles from the fish tank bubbling and the rain hitting the roof. The boys weren’t here which left only you in the flat. You walked over to the kitchen and opened the fridge to see if there was anything to eat.

Failing to do so, you shut the fridge door and turned to see a yellow lined sheet of paper on the dining table.

Taking a closer look, it looked like Marc’s handwriting. 

Knowing it was from him reminded you again of how much you missed him and his company. You were regretting ever trying to argue with him. If you hadn’t, he would have shared breakfast time with you like every other morning.

Hey, we went to find the cane. Well, be right back. Steven made some vegan stuff and left it on the stove. Please eat.

Even though it was just writing, you can tell Marc was hesitant in starting the note and felt like he was on thin ice. He was probably convinced by the other two to write.

It is delicious! I recommend heating on the stove instead of microwaving. Eat! You need strength! Also, we have news for you when we come back :)

You smiled at how Steven was so cheerful. You were honestly excited about what they had to say. Hopefully it meant you and Marc can stop going through silent treatment.

Cuídate mija, don’t open the door for anyone. My card is on the bed if you don’t want to eat Steven's cooking ;)

You almost laughed knowing it was Jake, he always loved bullying the other two. Getting to the last part, you notice how it switched to Marc’s handwriting again.

We’ll be back soon.

Love From, 

Marc, Steven, and Jake

You stared at how the word "love" was crossed out and wondered if Marc was the one who thought of it or if the others did. Either way, it moved you and you felt even worse about yelling at Marc.

You fold the note and put in the pocket of your sweatpants. Going to the fridge, you grab the pot of pasta and walk over to the stove. You heat it over the flame and wait for it boil.

In the meantime, you return to your room. You stoop to the level of your bed and place your hand beneath it. You move your hand around mindlessly until it comes into contact with a small box.

Pulling it out, you open it two see two blunts with a lighter inside. Once you take out both the lighter and a blunt, you make your way to the nearest window. 

Taking a look at the lighter, you examine the almost peeling moon sticker on it. It was from a sheet that you saw at the market when you went with Marc for groceries a while back

You slipped it into the basket before he noticed it in the line. All he did was simply look at it and give a small chuckle, glancing at you before putting it with the rest of the items.

You smiled as you inserted the blunt between your teeth and lit the end with your lighter. You inhaled deeply and exhaled the smoke out the window and into the world. Notifying everyone who passes by that you are high at the moment.

The soothing patter of the rain put you in a pondering state. Wondering if you can handle another two months of not speaking to Marc again. 

Actually you couldn’t, and you didn’t want to. 

You didn’t want to give him the silent treatment anymore and you wanted to apologize. Apologize for not having a civil conversation which turned to a yelling battle.

You thought of the choice of words for Marc and how to repay him for the damage that was done.

Letting out another breath of smoke, you came to a closing. 

“Hope you aren’t angry with me” you sigh and put out the blunt.

—————

A Few Hours Earlier

—————

In his Moon Knight suit, Marc was jumping from building to building trying to find the new hiding spot of the group. The storm made it almost difficult to see any suspicious buildings in sight. However, they weren’t even in his mind right now.

“Mate, I think it’s time to talk about Y/N”

“Yes, I think you two should talk when we come back”

“I know,” Marc continued staring straight ahead, “I just don’t know how to apologize. They probably hate me”

“They don’t hate you, they idolize you”

“They do?”

“Of course, that move they did back at the hideout was yours. They have been watching you anytime you go and fight”

Marc maintains his silence but can't help but smile. This time it hits him how much he misses you as well. He misses being able to tell you about his day. Your movie nights and Nintendo tournaments. For you, he’ll do anything to make it up to you.

“…I’ll talk to them when we’re done with this,” he says.

Steven and Jake smile, “Then let’s get this done quickly”

Marc continues running on top of the roofs until he stops and sees a building with purple flowing out of the windows.

“That’s them”

Marc stands on the edge of a nearby building and examines each room, trying to find where the so called Vannessa is at.

“There”

Marc looks over to one window and sees Vanessa talking to some group members. In another window he can see the cane on a table unprotected.

Marc gets off the building and jumps into one of the windows closest to the cane. With the breaking of glass, everyone in the building is now alerted but Marc can take them.

That is until he feels his power begin to leak out of his body. Confused he looks to his hands and sees how his suit is starting to disappear to where soon he is just in his casual clothes. Looking around, he sees the group corner him with guns drawn. He doesn’t move a muscle and only raises his hands up to show surrender. Soon Vanessa makes her way in and stares at Marc. 

"I don't have a good feeling about this"

“Took you long enough. Got lost?” She said snarkily, “Oh wait, I forgot you're an ex-marine right?”

She then looks over to one of the men and gestures her head to Marc, “In the leg”

Before Marc can understand, a shotgun is loaded, soon aimed, and a bullet is fired at his thigh. Marc lets out a scream of pain and drops to his knees, holding the wound. Two men rush in and hold him against the wall.

"Marc!"

"Let me take control!"

Marc tries to get out of their grip, but with the pain in his leg throbbing, he feels his senses leaving.

Vanessa makes her way to him and crouches down to his level, looking into his eyes. 

“To cut it quick, remember how that red witch controlled that small town? Well it turns out she had a barrier going on, so I said why not I do it too. Point A you crossed and point B you are now powerless and,”

Vanessa takes out a blade and lodges it into Marc’s other thigh, which causes him to groan in pain, but he continues to look at her.

“Mortal. Oh, and I know about your weird alter, Jack? Jake? I don’t fucking know, but I know he’s a pain in the ass but with no mobility, he’s nothing”

"Hija del reputa madre"

Marc glares at her and stays quiet.

“Aren’t you wondering why I’m being a bitch to you?”

“Well when you see a bitch you’ll expect them to be a bitch” Marc remarks which causes Vanessa to land a punch on his face.

“Funny. You’re not going to be laughing soon. Do you know who I am?”

Marc huffs and just shrugs, “Why don’t you just tell me and get this over with”

Vanessa lands him another punch and this time Marc is now bleeding from his nose.

“Switzerland. You were there looking for the scarab, and my father,” Vanessa stabs Marc once again in the thigh, “was there and you killed him. For what? For trying to make the world a better place?”

Marc doesn’t say anything but just glares at her. Vanessa scoffs and gets up, walking to another table.

“Tourniquet his legs” is all she says before grabbing a bat. A woman does what she says and ties a rope above Marc’s wound.

Everyone watches Vanessa’s moves, awaiting for next command. She turns to him and winds her elbow back before landing a blow to Marc's head.

——

The rain was still going, which is what lulled you into sleep. You were laying on the couch with an arm covering half your face. The blunt might have also been part of the equation in your slumber.

The coffee table was a mess before but now an even bigger mess with the bowl of food that Steven made being on there with the fork inside. Next to it was your ashtray which had what was left of your blunt. 

You felt at peace before you heard urgent knocking at the door. Slowly opening your eyes, you sit up and hear your bones crack from being asleep.

Walking over to the door, you check the peephole and see Layla still knocking.

You open the door, and Layla looks at you a tad disappointed, "Hey, what’s up?”

“Can I come in? It’s urgent” She points to the inside of the apartment which you nod and let her in.

“Jesus, was that you?” Layla coughs and waves her hand to get the smoke that fills the room away.

“Uh, maybe. Anyway, what happened? You’re never this freaked out”

Layla bites her cheek, “Have you heard from Marc? Steven? Jake? Any of them?”

You blink, “Not as of lately, all I got was a note from them saying they were going to find the cane”

“Yeah, the last text I got was him saying he found the hideout, but I haven’t gotten a response.” Layla pulls out her phone.

She shows you the last message from him, which was about 5 hours ago. Usually Marc would need less than that to complete a job.

“Maybe things got heavy, they’re probably on their way now.” You try to reason, but in reality, you begin to worry.

“If they were, I would be able to see their location but it’s off. I have a bad feeling something might have happened” Layla's face is tense and she doesn't appear to be able to relax.

Usually Layla was the one who was the calmest amongst the trio. So whatever it was that happened must be bad.

“What do we do?” You cross your arms.

Layla fidgets with her wedding ring as she looks down, “I-I don’t know”

All you do is stare at Layla and try to think. The boys were always the brains in this sort of thing, all you did was follow. What would they do?

You can probably retrace your steps, but again, you have been missing out on all the meetings ever since you claimed your hatred for the side missions.

A blast of wind comes and blows away all the pages that were on the coffee table. You and Layla turn to the noise and see Khonshu. However, he looks rough and stressed. Having both of the ofthe group who always calm now stressed was odd and almost a bad omen. He doesn’t waste any time before he starts.

“They’re in trouble, the group created a barrier which caused me to unlatch from them” 

“What?” You say with disbelief.

“There’s no time! They are in grave danger and need help!”He bangs his staff on the ground to get the message across.

You feel your heart begin to beat rapidly. You’re almost frozen by the news that they're in danger. They have saved you countless of times so it would make sense to repay the debt.

“Take me,” you say and Layla looks at you shocked.

She grabs onto your shoulders, “Y/N, no. We have to go together, we don’t know what they are capable of”

“I can handle it on my own,” you say before removing her hands and holding them, “I’ll be fine, I’ll send you the address and you can meet us there”

You begin to walk to Khonshu which he does not hesitate to give you your own powers temporarily. You are quickly enveloped in a similar suit of the Moon Knight’s. If it was a normal situation, you would have gloated but today was different.

“Wait Y/N!” Layla calls out but you are gone. She looks around to think before she calls for an old friend.

——

All you can do is keep running, jumping from building to building. Nothing else is on your mind but the three men who have been by your side for the past few years.

“It’s right there!” Khonshu called out.

You looked down and see a building with a purple glow coming from inside the windows before it leaves. That must have been the barrier that was made to stop Marc and the others from having Khonshu by their side. 

Khonshu immediately takes you to the building's entrance. It doesn’t take you long before you burst through the doors. The suit disappearing at the same time. You don’t let Khonshu explain to you how many there are or what they are capable of doing. All you want is to see Marc again and apologize for everything you've said. How you are glad that you met him.

You look around the first floor quickly to find signs of one of the boys being there but they aren’t. Rushing up the flight of stairs you find an open space with a few tables of a few weapons. You walk to one and grab a pistol. You check for bullets which thankfully it has a few.

You never learned to handle one before which leads you to grabbing a knife from there too. Once you look over your weapons, you hear a large thud coming from upstairs and grunting. 

“Marc” You breath out and sprint up the stairs.

All that adrenaline begins to spread through your body. That is until you get to the top of the stairs.

The scene is horrifying. Your eyes widen and you feel the world go quiet, only your heartbeat can be heard banging through your ears. At first you thought it was your pulse going crazy.

Thud 

It was just your pulse.

Thud

It was your pulse, thats what you kept telling yourself.

Thud

Marc received another blow to the head. He was helpless. He could only lie on his stomach and let blood drain from his nose and mouth. His left eye was purple and swollen. Red had now stained his dark brown curls.

All of this pain inflicting on him was coming from the red haired woman. Vanessa.

You're enraged, and you swear you see red. You point the gun at her, ready to fire, when one of the members notices you and tries to take the gun from you. You two fall to the ground while attempting, causing the gun to skid across the floor. You pull out your knife before he can get up. You swing it at the man horizontally. Making a cut at his neck.

Unfortunately, it is not deep enough. 

When the other two members notice your presence, they tackle you. You try to push them off with all your strength, but they pin your arms behind your back. Their weight crushes you, causing your cheek to collide with the cold floor.

“Get the fuck off me!” You yell out.

The man who you cut wipes the blood off and glares at you. He immediately rushes to you and begins to kick you in your stomach, calling you a ‘bitch’. Before he can do more damage, another member holds him back.

“Hey! Hey! Thats enough!” Says the man as he tries to keep his friend from beating you.

You don’t care about the man though. All your attention is on the redhead. You have never felt so much anger as you do right now.

“You’re going to fucking die!” You growl.

She looks at you and cocks her head to the side, “It’s you from before”

You continue to glare at her before two other people come in. One man and one woman, they look at the scene before continuing on with Vanessa.

“Who’s that?” The man points at you.

The woman then adds, “How are they here? Why weren’t you on watch?”

The one with the cut on his neck yells, “I didn’t know he’d bring someone else!” 

“Well thats enough, it won’t take long until people report a noise complaint” the man looks at Vannessa.

“You want what I want, right?” She grips the base of the bat as she stares at the man.

The man stays quiet and just says, “End it. Now”

Realizing what they said, you stop resisting and look over to Marc’s body. You look at him with pleading eyes and beg, “Guys, get up. Get up!”

Even though they are badly hurt, you can see the small shift between Steven and Jake. Jake, who tries to move but fails. Steven, who tries to reach out to you but can’t.

They soon give control to Marc. He tries his best to open his eyes and looks over at you. He mumbles your name, you’re the only thing he focuses on once again.

“Marc, fucking get up!” Your voice cracks.

You look back at Vanessa and now beg, “Please stop!”

She ignores you and winds her arm back, having a tight grip on the bat.

“Please don’t do this…” you sob, “Marc, please get up!”

Vanessa then brings the bat down and smashes it against Marc’s skull. Blood spilling more than there was.

“Nooo!” You yell out feeling your throat burn from forcing your vocal cords.

You sob as you stare at Marc’s lifeless body. The man who loved and protected you was no longer here. He was gone.

One of the members walk up to his body and spit on him, wishing him to be in hell. That same anger from before comes back up and you try to get up.

“I'll fucking kill you!” You keep repeating to them.

The members of the group began debating whether or not to kill you. However, as you stare at Marc, all of their voices become muffled. Your gaze then shifts to Vanessa, who drops the bat and turns to face you.

You remember her features. In fact, all of their features. Memorize them so they don't believe they are free. Keep them close by memorizing them. Remember them for Marc. Remember them for Steven. Remember them for Jake. It's for them.

You breathe heavily before one member comes to you and kicks you in the head to knock you out.

-

“Y/N” Layla softly calls out to you, shaking your body awake.

She is wearing her suit given to her by Tawaret. She was too late though.

You open your eyes slowly and mumble, “Are they…”

Layla looks down and nods, “I’m sorry”

-

Back at the apartment, you stayed sitting on their bed. What once used to be their bed. The sheets are still undone and you can still see where their head lay. They would have done the bed by now. There would be food being cooked right now. Instead, it was their funeral.

You fidget with the Star of David necklace that used to be theirs. Looking at it, remembering how it sat around their neck.

A knock comes from the door but you don’t try to get up. Usually it was one of them knocking, usually because they forgot their keys or wallet. But they aren’t here. The door didn’t matter.

It opens, and you can hear hesitant steps approaching you. Layla can be recognised by her heels clicking on the wooden floors. "Are you ready?" she asks, holding both hands over her stomach as she turns to face you.

Her voice is almost a whisper. She must have been crying all night. 

“Yeah…” You look up at her and see you were right.

Her eyes were red and her face tear stained. Yet she tried to keep her composure for you. She wore a black slim dress with black heels. Her hair was tied in a low ponytail.

For you, all you had on was a black jacket, shirt, and jeans with black boots. 

You two made your way outside the building to a taxi. Layla spoke to the driver while you remained silent and gazed out the window. You were numb because the world seemed numb to you.

Soon enough you got to the cemetery and saw a few people there. Not family but more of colleagues from his Egyptian work it seemed. You and Layla stayed close to his grave, watching as his coffin lowered inside. All you could do was think about his beaten face inside that coffin. 

Once buried, everyone quickly left except you. You remained motionless, staring at the tombstone. You got down on your knees, grabbed a small pebble, and placed it on top of the stone, following a Jewish tradition you'd learned beforehand.

“I'm so sorry, I should have said that earlier. If only I did” you croaked.

After bidding farewell to last guests, Layla walked up behind you and put a hand on your shoulder, “When your ready”

"Um, I'll catch up to you. I just need more time," you say, looking up at her.

Layla gives a tight smile and nods, “Okay." She walks away, her steps fading away.

You breath out, seeing your breath in the cold. Your fingers were frozen but you didn’t care. As expected, you feel the wind pass by you. Knowing who it was, you didn’t bother in looking up.

“I am sorry for your loss, Y/N” Khonshu gently says.

You don’t say anything and continue to stare at Marc’s carved name on the tombstone. Khonshu doesn’t find it surprising and understands.

He thinks before he says, “As you humans say, they are no longer suffering here-”

“I want to go look for them.” You don’t look up at him when you say it. You grab a handful of dirt from the ground and slowly release it back down.

Khonshu, surprised, responds, "It's dangerous, they wouldn't want you to go alone"

"I know they wouldn't want me to, but I want to. Are you going to help me?" You take a step forward and look at him. He looks into your eyes and sees the revenge burning within your irises.

He stays quiet, which you take as a no. “Fine, I’ll do it by myself”

You clench your fist and look down at the grave. Marc's death plays over and over in your mind. Each face flashes through your mind, and you consider how each one aided in his death. How you begged them to stop.

“I’m going to kill, every last one of them” 

---

Anyways, wasn't that cool? :D

Also, I know the argument between the reader and Marc was dumb but you try coming up with an argument that isn't cliche or one that would be reasonable for you to get mad at. It was for the plot is what I'm trying to say.

If yall want me to write a happy ending to it let me know or don't idk

[itty-bitty-sunshine]

After two cups of coffee i decided to make a sillier thing than here

Still way too tired for this but have a short thingy

-

They noticed something was off the moment they came to live with you.

Back in the pizzaplex, you were practically picture perfect, there wasn't a moment you did not smile for them and were always eager to face whatever came your way with utmost energy.

Now they see your eyes, that you used to always hide, regardless of the hour of the day, and they look so tired. They cannot phantom how those can possibly be the same. When they moved in, you waited till they grew used to the place and then you made sure to fall face down on the bed and not wake up for another entire week.

You still smile, you still help them in everything, there is not a thing they ask of you that you do not get them. But the drop on your shoulders looks alien on you.

You had built them two whole new bodies, maybe that's why you're so tired. When did you even have time for that, anyway?

Or maybe it's the house. It sounds like nonsense, but you never stayed at home much. They remember how you spent your days and nights at the plex whenever you could, and when you didn't you would be out with that Sean guy from security.

The house is wonderful, spacious, and it's clear you modified it to fit them at some point. The room you gave them is old fashioned like that of a grandma, but you said they could mess with it as they liked. In each inch of this place there is a small detail somewhere, carefully cared for and cleaned, but they noticed how the garden was overgrown.

You care so much for them but when was the last time you did something for yourself?

And so, slowly, Sun made a habit of making you food. He learned all recipes on the book, and asked you to get him more. Each day he makes something new, and when you don't feel like eating, he cuts you a fruit. He lost count of the days they both had to grab you in your wandering in the woods with promises of snacks.

Moon never knew how bad you could be when it came to keeping track of the passage of time until you left the strict work routine of the plex. You would spend your entire day doing one thing, forgetting to eat even when they brought you food, and only stop when he forcefully would come to pick you up late at night. So he created a routine himself — he started dragging you to take a shower with him at the end of the afternoon, following you on walks so he'll be less bored and playing on the trees with you. You know it's time for bed when he tells you nighty night.

You started to get better at it when the three of you began to put mundane things on the calendar: Monday — Watch the movie Sun choose, Wednesday — walk in the city, Saturday — game night; and so on.

They have fun taking care of you, just like you have taking care of them, even if your mind is still foreign to them. You make up for the lack of kids to keep an eye on. You're not perfect like they believed, but that means you're human, despite your belief on the contrary.

They still don't know how to deal with how you wake up in the middle of the night and refuses to look Moon in the eyes when you meet him on the dark living room, or the ways you space out mid conversation with Sun like your brain and body had decided to work separately, but it's okay. You said you all had the whole eternity to figure this out, didn't you?

[crimsonedquill]

Hey! I'm in great need of angst right now. :) Would you like to write Sebastian x f!reader (not Mc) fic where reader is a friend with Seb and Ominis for years and has feelings for Sebastian as long but now is hurt/jealous of Mc being so close to him? Sad or happy ending up to you, thank you!

Lost Love (Sebastian Sallow x Jealous f!reader)

WARNING: Angst ahead

Did I stay up all night to write Sebby angst when I was supposed to be sleeping? Why yes, I did! Let's be real, since MC is basically a gaslighting bitch for most of Sebastian's questline, that angle was too good to pass up. Thanks for the prompt 🖤

“What do you think of them?” you asked your friends as you made your way back to the common room, your bellies deliciously filled with food from the start-of-term feast.

“The new fifth-year?” Ominis asked. “I can’t say I envy their position. Starting this late must be rather daunting, especially in a completely new environment.”

Sebastian chimed in, “I’m quite eager to get to know them, actually. Did you hear they got attacked by a dragon on their way here?”

“Somehow I find it hard to fathom that to be the only reason for your curiosity,” Ominis responded, the skepticism audible in his voice. “You probably couldn’t keep your eyes off her during the sorting ceremony.”

“My, the slander. Y/N, you didn’t see me looking, did you?” Sebastian turned to you with a grin.

Your eyes shot up, the question catching you a bit off guard. “Uh, no, I don’t think so –”

“See?” Sebastian said, turning to Ominis triumphantly. “Now, of course, were she to actually have caught my attention, I’d say you can’t blame a man for having good taste –”

The two continued bickering, but you didn't hear them. Something inside you stung, and you knew what it was. The truth was that you had seen Sebastian looking at the new fifth-year – in fact, you were pretty sure you’d witnessed him practically undressing them with his eyes. You wouldn’t put it like it bothered you… after all, you’d known the handsome Sallow boy to be a flirt ever since he was chasing girls back in Feldcroft – but still… it bothered you.

Entering the common room, the three of you stood in front of the fireplace. “Well,” Ominis yawned, “I’ll be taking my leave. I will see you two at breakfast, if you manage to be out of bed before then.”

“Sweet dreams,” Sebastian said with a chuckle, and he stretched his arms as Ominis disappeared off to the dormitory, causing an involuntary twitching in your stomach.

“I should probably be going as well. See you tomorrow?”

“Of course,” you nodded. You watched him walk to the archway, doubt scrambling your thoughts… then you suddenly opened your mouth: “Sebastian?”

He turned around to face you. “Yes?”

The words lingered on your lips. You had been planning to tell him, and now that you were, you suddenly didn’t know what to say. His gaze bore into you, causing you to blush.

“I –” you stammered, “it‘s good to be back, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” he smiled gently. “I’m glad to be here again, with you and Ominis. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded. “Yes. Eh, goodnight.”

The tension escaped you in a sigh after he left. This shouldn’t be so difficult. After all, the two of you had known each other for years; you had shared everything with each other, from tears and grief to dreams and laughter. Yet in some way, you figured this to be the exact problem – what if the things you wanted to tell him would change all of that forever?

As the days passed at Hogwarts, you found yourself consumed by doubt and disappointment. You had spent the entire summer psyching yourself up to confess your feelings to Sebastian, but now you were starting to wonder if it was worth the risk. Despite your attempts to focus on your studies, thoughts of him kept creeping into your mind – imagining his reaction, the way his eyes would light up if only you had the courage to speak up.

Finally, you decided to take the leap and walked up to him after Defence Against the Dark Arts. Shifting your books in your arms, you flashed him a smile and complimented him on his impressive duelling skills.

“Prewett must have thought I’d gotten rusty over summer break,” he scoffed, “I honestly wasn’t even trying.”

“Sure you weren’t,” you playfully nudged him. “So… uhm, I was thinking – perhaps we could go over our Potions homework this evening, someplace quiet?”

“Fine by me. Did you and Ominis already have some ideas?”

You noticed your throat getting dry, making it more difficult to speak. “Well, actually… I believe Ominis has been otherwise occupied, so I thought it could be just the two of us –”

“Ah, so it’s a date then,” he chuckled, not realising how your cheeks were turning red. “Well, count me in.”

“Great! So –”

“Oh, hang on, I’m being stupid.” He stopped in his tracks, facepalming himself. “I forgot I already have plans this evening. I promised the new student a little clandestine tour of the Restricted Section.”

“M-my, already spreading your bad influence, aren’t you?” you said, your smile masking the pain you felt in your chest.

“Force of habit, I’m afraid,” he shrugged. “It’s all rather exciting actually. I’m supposed to be helping them on some kind of quest – they haven’t exactly told me any details yet, but I’m convinced it’s something truly astonishing.”

“Well, keep us posted, will you?” You pretended to suddenly realise that you’d forgotten your quill in the classroom and told him to go on without you. The pain in your chest lingered throughout the day, like a relentless curse, refusing to release its grip even in the refuge of slumber.

— — —

At first, you tried convincing yourself that it wasn’t anything malicious. Sebastian had always been protective, mainly owing to his sister’s condition, and he was probably just putting in an effort to make the new fifth-year feel at home. Yet you couldn’t help but notice that they were spending more and more time together, to the point where even Ominis started taking notice. You ended up discussing the subject one day on your way to the Undercroft to practice some spells you’d recently learned.

“I suppose it’s a bit curious,” Ominis confessed, following the red glow at the tip of his wand down the stairs. “He’s been rather absent-minded lately – even more than usual, if that is what you mean to say.”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” you agreed. “It’s like he’s forgotten all about us – all he cares about is spending time with that… girl.”

You noticed Ominis turning his head ever so slightly in your direction with a frown on his face. Shit, you hadn’t meant to put it like that –

“Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but you haven’t sounded quite like yourself either lately. Is everything all right?”

“Of course,” you hastily said as you turned the corner to where the entrance to the Undercroft was. You noticed the hidden door of the clock swinging open and were momentarily thankful for the interruption, but your gratitude was quickly evaporated when you saw the person stepping out. MC’s smile disappeared just as swiftly as they saw you. “Oh, er –”

To your own surprise, it wasn’t you who lashed out at them. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” Ominis demanded.

Your heart sank when you saw Sebastian climbing out of the clock. He quickly jumped in front of MC, putting his hands up. “Ominis, it’s all right, she’s with me –”

Ominis cut him off, “You brought her here? What right could you possibly have had to do that without telling us?”

Sebastian's voice rose as well, “Oh come on, I would have told you eventually! You’re acting as if I couldn’t tell whether someone is trustworthy!”

“It’s not about trust, Sebastian. This is our special place. You should have consulted us before bringing someone else into the fold.”

“I think you’re a bit overreacting, to be honest.” Sebastian turned to you now, clearly looking for some help. Yet the only thing occupying your mind right now was the sight of MC behind him, their infuriatingly smug expression making your blood boil. You shook your head. “You should have told us, Sebastian.”

Sebastian's expression hardened. “Unbelievable. I expected more from you. Come on, MC."

He took her by her arm and pushed past you, leaving you and Ominis in a charged silence. Your heart felt heavy as you watched them disappear down the hallway, wondering when everything had started to change between the three of you.

— — —

Sebastian had been ignoring you for weeks since the incident at the Undercroft entrance. You had tried to reconcile with him, not because of your feelings, but because you hated the thought of losing your friend. Even though you eventually ended up making up more or less, it became painstakingly clear something was blossoming between him and MC. They were basically sitting together in class all the time now, and after some time he even took them to see Anne without telling either you or Ominis.

It left you feeling like something within you had shattered permanently. Worst of all was that you were utterly incapable of doing anything about it. Ominis was still looking out for you, but you were too embarrassed to talk about your feelings even with him. All that was left for you to do was to let the itchy pain of jealousy keep eating away at your insides.

Then, one day, you found Ominis in a quiet corner of the common room, pale as a ghost and on the verge of tears. After some effort, you managed to learn that he had been convinced by MC to take her and Sebastian to Salazar Slytherin’s scriptorium, and it had demanded a terrible price. Initially, you were just shocked. Then a wave of hot anger washed over you, stifling all other thoughts. Fuck your feelings – this wasn’t just about you anymore.

You stormed out and didn’t stop until you had found MC. They seemed surprised to see you; even more when you backed them into a corner, looking ready to tear them apart. “Y/N, what –”

“What were you thinking?” you seethed. “How did you have the audacity to put Ominis through something like that?”

MC was lost for words. “I – it wasn’t my intention! Sebastian told me it would be perfectly safe –”

“But you don’t know him, do you? How could you, you’ve only been here for a few months! And is it true you cast the Cruciatus Curse on him?”

MC’s eyes widened. “He… he asked me to!”

You didn’t know what you were hearing. However, before you could give them the verbal punch in the face they were so obviously begging for, you heard a familiar voice say your name. You swerved around. Sebastian was standing behind you, but he might as well have been a completely different person; he was clutching his side and his eyes had an unrecognisable darkness in them. “Y/N, leave her alone.”

“Sebastian, you’re hurt –” you said, taking a step toward him, but he interrupted you, “I’m fine. No thanks to my dear friend. Can you honestly believe Ominis would actually have let us die down there? Thank Merlin MC was there –”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, your attitude now a mix of indignation and anger. “He’s tearing himself apart in the common room because of what you put him through!”

“He’ll get over it,” Sebastian huffed, though you could see him shuffling his feet. “It was a necessary evil. I’ve never this been close to finding a way to cure Anne. Y/N, I can’t give up on pursuing this,”

Despite your anger, you couldn’t help but feel some compassion for the Sallow boy in that moment. Perhaps it was just your feelings talking, but you forced yourself to calm down, taking a deep breath before you looked him in the eye. “But Sebastian, is all of this really worth it? For Merlin’s sake, look at what it’s doing to you –”

“I said I’m fine,” he insisted, growing harsh again. “And in fact, I think it would be better if you stayed out of our way from now on.”

“But I could help you –”

“Oh yeah? Tell me, would you have casted Crucio on me if I’d asked you to?”

You fell silent, knowing you couldn't have ever put him through that kind of pain. “No,” you said softly.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. “Look, Y/N, I appreciate your concern, truly. But I know I can rely on MC here to do what’s necessary. It’d be best for you and Ominis to keep your distance until we’ve been able to figure this out. Do you understand?”

Doubt plagued your mind. Perhaps it would have been easier to believe him if he didn’t have that strange look in his eyes – that deep hunger of a predator which had smelled blood and would stop at nothing to reach it. But either out of love or some naive belief that you could save him if he got too close to the edge, you just nodded.

— — —

You told yourself that it wasn’t you. That it was just some wild goose chase, a hunch he was chasing after in the hope that it could finally be the miraculous means to save his sister. When he was done with her, he would simply cast her aside and come back to you. But you knew he wasn’t that cruel, and it also didn’t explain why it felt like he was slipping away from you as the days went by, to the point where you weren't even sure if you could call him your friend anymore.

Every now and then, you would hear about his escapades. Apparently, he had gotten into trouble with his uncle when he got caught using Dark magic, and he had been banished from seeing his sister after that. It broke your heart to see the handsome boy you used to harbour a secret crush on turn into a mere shadow of his former self, an obsessed mind constantly whispering to himself about revenge and “showing them”.

And then you reached the edge.

A few months had passed when Ominis came up to you, looking completely disheveled and out of breath. “Y/N – we need to get to Feldcroft, now.” he said urgently.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, feeling a foreboding sense of dread.

“Anne sent me a patronus. It’s Sebastian – he’s gone down into the tomb with MC and that infernal artifact. I fear he’s planning to use it.”

You wasted no time in summoning your broom and helping Ominis to mount it. The two of you flew to Feldcroft as fast as you could, fears about what you’d find there running through both of your minds. As soon as you landed in front of the tomb entrance, you both drew your wands and stepped into the darkness, determined to find Sebastian as soon as possible.

You were horrified to find a battalion of Inferni waiting for you down in the cavernous corridors. The two of you fought ferociously, and eventually you managed to battle your way into the final tomb chamber. You saw Sebastian standing in the middle, seemingly captivated by the artifact in his hands. MC was standing a few feet behind him. Upon seeing her, your vision went red around the edges.

“You!” you screamed, leaping forward. “You let him on! All of this is your fault!”

You disarmed them without much effort, all of the rage you’d been keeping inside bursting out in a loud roar. They had taken everything from you, and they would pay for it. You lifted your wand, prepared to cast a curse at them –

“No, leave her alone!” Sebastian yelled, and suddenly everything happened at once. The only thing you remembered was something striking you in your side and the world around you going dark.

The next thing you knew, you woke up in a bed, surrounded by an collection of pastel colours. You groaned and sat up against the pillow, causing a figure sitting next to the bed to turn his head towards you. “Y/N, are you awake?” the voice of Ominis asked.

“Just about,” you said through gritted teeth as you felt the pain radiating from the sore spot in your side. “How did I get here? Where’s Sebastian?”

Ominis took a deep breath. Clearly he had not been meaning to tell you all the details so soon, but to his credit, he wasn’t sparing you from them either. “It was all really chaotic. Sebastian hit you with a Blasting Curse, and you were knocked unconscious. Then the situation quickly spiralled out of control. His uncle arrived and attempted to take the artifact from him… he didn’t take that well. He… ended up casting the Killing Curse.”

Your head started to spin. That couldn’t be, right? Your best friend, the one you’d known all your life… a murderer?

“Where is he now?” you asked. “What happened to MC?”

“Don’t you worry, I warned her to keep her distance if she wanted to avoid incurring my wrath. As for Sebastian – Anne and I discussed what to do about him and… well, we decided not to report him. What he’s done is unforgivable, but the guilt alone will be enough suffering for him to bear.” He paused for a moment. “Of course, I couldn’t fault you for disagreeing.”

You stared up at the ceiling. Everything felt so surreal – it was like you were living a bad dream, struggling to wake up. In the end, all you could muster was a sigh. “Oh, Sebastian…”

Ominis put his hand on your bed. You shifted your own hand towards him, the tips of your fingers touching his. “You cared for him as more than a friend, didn’t you?” he asked.

“I think I still do,” you confessed. “Even after everything… I don’t know. I was going to tell him, that I’d had this crush on him for the longest time, and that I wanted us to be more than friends… it pains me now to think I might have been able to prevent all this.”

His grip on your hand was tight, and his voice was heavy with sympathy. “You couldn't have stopped him,” he said. “Don't blame yourself. He chose his own path, and nothing could have changed that.”

You turned to him, tears brimming in your eyes. “I know,” you whispered. “But it still hurts so damn much.”

He didn't say anything else, but he didn't have to. He leaned in and held you close, and you finally allowed yourself to break down. Your tears flowed, a mourning of not just lost love, but also a broken friendship.

[cookiesupplier]

Hell Ain't So Bad - Part Twenty-Two (nsfw)

pairing: Noah Sebastian x ofc (Ellie)

warnings/tropes: slow burn, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death, mentions of torture, thoughts of religious ideology, minor violence, swearing, cheating.

summary: Ellie was lost in the world, homeless with no idea what to do and nowhere to go.. Who would have thought that one day, she’d end up working in hell itself.. And what does this even mean?

author’s note: This is it! This is the last of Hall Ain't so Bad guys, and for the next instalment of this WIP series, A Friend Down In Hell will start in hopefully TWO DAYS! Hold on!

tags: @spicywhenspeaking @bngurngheart @cncohshit @valiantroeagleangel @blackveilomens @dominuslunae @tearfallpixie @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @wild-child-7747 @notingridslurkaccount @lyschko666 @lacktoesandtoddlerants @jilliemiw86 @emmmm127 @laurpartyprogram @badomensls

Ellie was up before Noah, which made perfect sense to her, she was the one who had pretty much spent the week barely able to get out of bed, more asleep than awake, he was the one who had appeared not to have slept for the entire week. Sure, his body could take a whole lot more brutal punishment than hers, while hers could pretty much bounce back from well, anything now, now that she thought about it.. It made her wonder how that worked. If she didn’t eat, or sleep, would she get sick the way he would? She knew he did, she was well aware that he did, and she knew she got a hangover, she felt it, but was it like breathing? Was it just an echo, her body remembering being alive and reacting as if she was, whether she needed to or not?

That was just weird to think about, to be honest.

She knew she was dead, that she wasn’t going to age here. Her life was over.. She had no intention of reincarnating, not ever, she’d told Noah that much when they’d talked before. Of course, that was when she thought she was alive, and it was about her leaving to go live out in the world for other means, but as far as she was concerned her reasons stayed the same. Not to mention now that they’d talked about how they felt for each other, it just made her intentions all the more poignant. As to what that meant, from his longevity to her not ageing because she was dead, her not being able to have kids because she was dead, that damn pharmacist, how had he not just laughed at her when she had freaked out over the Plan B, what the.. She felt stupid. Didn’t matter now. It did make her wonder, however, how he felt about that, never having a family, at the same time, she knew Noah had been pulled into the Ruffilo family when he was young. The thought of doing that for another young demon one day made her smile. Oh, they better not be as much of a handful!

Her mind was clicking over all of these things, but they were so far in the future, they had centuries, centuries, to worry about any of them, and that thought made her smile as she lightly brushed her fingers through his hair. Just one night's sleep and he was already looking so much more rested. The circles under his eyes had almost disappeared, the sallow of his complexion gone as he looked flush with life once more, even his tattoos looked more vibrant on his skin. Ellie guessed that it was his magic thrumming through his body, healing him, now that he finally managed to relax and get some rest. The next step would be to get some decent food into him.

Whether in the end she technically needed to eat or not, he did need to eat, and for that reason, she needed to get up and make them breakfast. Not wanting to wake him, she started extracting herself from her boyfriend so she could move and get out of bed, however, his arms around her waist tightened when she tried to. That was the only sign he wasn’t quite as asleep as he seemed, otherwise, he didn’t move in the slightest.

“I need to get up and make breakfast, you need to eat, King.”

Teasingly, she emphasised the last word after his mumbled claim as he drifted to sleep last night. His lips curled into a smirk, but still not moving, or letting her go.

“Noah…”

His eyes opened then, and Ellie couldn’t help but smile a little herself, seeing those warm brown eyes looking at her this morning was perfection, especially with how much more vibrant they looked this morning compared to last night. He was beautiful, and she’d missed this sight first thing in the morning,

“You need to eat.”

“Oh, I know exactly what I want to eat.”

He grinned at her as Noah brought his lips to her with the squeeze of his arms around her, the kiss so hungry, and the way his teeth scrapped over her lip had her whimpering a little, fuck.

“You, BabyGirl.”

Hearing him growl like that, softly, against her lips, had her thighs clench together, and she felt the way he grinned in turn, oh, he felt that. One of his hands slid down her body and slipped under the hem of her shirt, his shirt that she was wearing like a night dress at this point having lost the lounge pants during the night, his body always made her overheat during the night. His long fingers wrapped around her thigh and squeezed at her leg with a grin. Noah shifted over her, parting her thighs so he could settle between them as he moved to lay over her, he had her right where he wanted her.

Before she could argue that she, wasn’t food, he was already moving his way down her body, and really, did she honestly want to argue with him after a week without him touching her? Especially when he was already pushing her shirt up so he could kiss her breasts? His lips wrapped around one of her nipples, sucking at her before she felt his teeth nipping every so slightly at her sensitive skin as she arched up to him, his mouth pressing against her a bit harder. She moaned as his long fingers pinched and worked her other nipple into a peak before switching between them. Her nails were scratching down his shoulders as his teeth worried at her breast, biting into her skin, drawing a moan out of her.

“Fuck.”

Grinning against her chest, Noah glanced up at her before he pressed hungry biting kisses against her skin and continued down her body, until he was making himself comfortable between her legs, kissing, and nipping at her inner thighs. He squeezed at her legs as he tormented her, teased her, but not yet giving her what he knew she now was as desperate for as he was, especially when she groaned.

“Noah, please, babe, I need-”

Growling against her skin as his eyes flickered up towards her as she whimpered, hearing the way she begged him like that, after the last week, after being terrified of losing her, fearing her never trusting him again, it was blissful music to his ears to know how much she still wanted him. After everything they’d spoken of yesterday, the confrontation, the confessions, it was everything, and he couldn’t imagine a moment without her anymore.

“Don’t worry, BabyGirl, I’ve got you.”

After all, his breakfast waited, he didn’t even bother pulling her underwear off of her this morning, far too impatient with that this time, letting his magic take over and in an instant they were gone, just, gone. Thankfully they weren’t one of her good pairs, otherwise he’d get an earful about having to replace them later, he probably still would about her clothes always disappearing when he got impatient, but he’d replace all the underwear in the world if he had to. Mostly because the times he told her she should just stop wearing them earned him a look that rivalled the fire he got in his.

That was his BabyGirl for you.

Soon as her underwear disappeared, Noah’s mouth was between her thighs, his tongue licking up her slit, moaning at how wet she already was.

“Fuck, all this for me, you taste so good, and you thought you needed to cook for me.”

Smirking against her before he brought his lips to her clit and didn’t just lick at the nub, oh no, he nipped slightly before he sucked at it as he pressed two of those long fingers of his into her pussy. Curling them inside of her to find that magic spot he loved so much, hearing her cry out under him as his tongue swirled against her body. He was going to drive her wild and remind his BabyGirl exactly who she was with.

Exactly who she belonged to… and who belonged to her. Noah didn’t want this with anyone else, not now, not ever.

Fucking his fingers inside of her, groaning as he felt her pussy clench around them, fuck, she was so perfect, his eyes flicking up to her as he sucked at her clit, his teeth nipping slightly at the sensitive skin. Ellie had moved to tangle one of her hands into his hair and grip tightly before there was a hard tug of his locks in her fingers as she came apart under his mouth, making him moan against her.

“Noah, Noah, I need you, please, please!”

And he knew exactly what she meant, he could tease her about eating all he wanted, tease her about breakfast, but he’d missed her, he missed being inside her, being together with her.

“Off, BabyGirl, off, please.”

The rest of her clothes. He knew she’d kill him for just disappearing them, her underwear was bad enough, and if they’d been her good pair, he might have thought twice. Pulling back, sucking his fingers clean, and grinning at the dark hungry look he got from her at the action when he did, he stripped his clothes. He didn’t take his eyes off her when he did, watching as her, his, nightshirt came up over her head, tossed to the side, but instead of waiting for him to come back to her, Ellie moved towards him. Her hands came to his shoulders as she pushed him down to the back, pushed him back down to the pillows as she moved to straddle his hips.

“My turn.”

Lining herself up, Ellie sank herself down onto his cock, it had been too long since she’d taken him, and while it was a stretch. It was always a bit of a stretch to take his size, especially when she was on top like this, it still felt so very good to have him inside of her again. His hands gripped her hips as he entered her, eyes watched as his cock slid into her body, before looking up to her, his eyes meeting hers,

“Fuck, BabyGirl, I missed you.”

Sitting back to look at him, her hand running down his chest, over his tattoos, Ellie loved seeing him like this, as much as she enjoyed feeling the way his hands could roam over her just as much.

As her hips shifted when she moved, fucking herself on his cock, clenching around him with a moan, she leaned over him to trace her tongue over some of the marks on his skin as her nails ran down his sides. She’d wondered at one point if she’d ever be able to figure out all his tattoos with her time here. But now she had more than enough time. Ellie was going to memorise every single inch of his body, she didn’t care if it took her the next decade or the next century.

Lifting her body, she thrust down on his cock, again and again, rocking as she did.

“Touch yourself BabyGirl, go on, I want to watch you.”

Sitting up as she arched back, her hands moved to her breasts, fingers pinching at her nips, rolling at the sensitive flesh as Noah’s hands gripped her hips helping her keep her balance now she wasn’t holding onto him. With each thrust of her body down on his cock, she felt him deep inside of her, her thighs were tense around his hips, tightening with each thrust.

“Fuck, you look so beautiful.”

One of his hands moved between her legs to her clit, rubbing furiously, she could feel him start to tense inside of her, he was getting close,

“Cum for me BabyGirl, go on, cum on my cock.”

Moaning as her head tilted back, her thighs starting to shake, she was so close, and the moment he started on her clit she knew she wasn’t going to be able to hold back much longer, hearing him say that, hearing him, and she was already clenching around him, shuddering as she came. Her hands moved from her body to press her fingers to his chest, pressing against his skin as she leaned down, Ellie brought her mouth to his, moaning his name against his lips.

Noah was rocking his hips up with hers, helping her ride her orgasm out even as she was clenching around him, he unravelled, he couldn’t hold back either, not with her fucking him like that, practically milking him. Ellie could feel his cum filling her against the inner walls of her pussy as he filled her, and she moaned at the feeling even as she clenched around him again.

It wasn’t long, before they were both left laying there in each other's arms, her head on his chest, gasping for breaths a little, a sweaty sticky mess, and did either of them want to move? No, not even a little. Noah turned his head to look at her, lifting his hand to brush some damn hair back from her face,

“Fuck, BabyGirl, I love you. Missed this so much.”

Noah loved the sound as she laughed softly.

“I love you, you’re never getting rid of me now, hope you know that.”

Just as he did when she pecked his lips slightly with that teasing smirk, and Noah couldn’t help the rough growl that escaped him with his returning grin.

“I can live with that.”

And he would, they had all the time in the world.

Dividers: @saradika-graphics (stained glass) & @cafekitsune (MDNI)

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Fast Food- Travels

Designed to be read on its own, but you can find part 1 here and part 2 here.

Those were the days! No stress, no struggle, no weight of an inexorable prophecy hanging over my head. Just me, eating and sleeping as I pleased.

My first stop had been Saints-burrow, the town closest to my home. The humans there had hair like flax and skin like the earth, their skirts thick with spun valli-wool. They tended the fields with cheer, and welcomed me with open arms. 

Kindness was as rampant as tallgrass there, an endless flow of generosity the likes of which I'd never encountered. There was no need to steal, thieve or burgle, for they were all too willing to give it to me for free. 

I spent two years in the local inn, spinning tales to the tavern's regulars in exchange for a steady supply of ale and bread (though I suspect they would've given it to me for free), before I felt the itch to travel. 

Somedays I sit and wonder what happened to those people, to their children's grandchildren. I wonder if they would have wept to see what became of their kindness. I wonder if they would blame me and curse themselves for being so generous toward me.

My wandering feet, or wings, as the case came to be, took me down to Nyctomachia, the land of a thousand gods.

My first night there had been thoroughly godless, however. It had been a gloomy night, like many others to come, full of rain and mist. Amidst the dampness, I stumbled across the corpse of a man, dressed in the rich purple fabrics of high nobility. His chest leaked blood like a fireflower blooming out of his heart, and his pockets held nothing but death. There was still one thing to take, however, and I, ever the pragmatist, took it with both hands.

That night, I slept under the plush covers of a dead man's bed, wearing his face, donning his silk nightgown. Oh, and screwing his lovely, obliging spouse. I do suspect they knew all along that I was an imposter, and I do suspect they didn't care.

I came to discover that Nyctomachia held an array of wonders for me. There were the night markets, where people were crushed together and trinkets hung off the walls, ripe for the taking. There were the galleries, where an established gentleman such as my current identity could waltz in, and, in the form of a rather grotesque street rat, flee with stolen goods. Best of all, there was the Undercity.

It was a hidden network of tunnels, spreading across the entire city, home to every inhuman thinkable. All manners for creatures lived there, from ghouls, goblins and vampires, to harpies, dryads and even a few centaurs. I, to my shock, fit right in. 

I spent my days mimicking Sir Armuin Kinaei the twelfth, lounging about looking pretty while my spouse managed the estates. I spent my nights gambling away my stolen goods and getting drunk on spirit-mead, gossiping in bad pidgin the whole time. I spent fourty years like that, twenty carefree years that ended with my spouse dying on me.

It wasn't a sudden thing. Everyone had seen it coming a long way. Humans only lived for so long after all, and Akati was not young when I met them. It still hurt. It still hurt a lot.

It hurt enough that I disappeared into the night and never returned, leaving my possessions to the living who I held dear. I suppose it was just too much for my heart to bear, to watch any more of my friends die.

Little did I know my heart was fated to experience far worse hurts.

Taglist:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @fortunatetragedy, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finicky-felix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou (Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

Curiosity Part 2

Summary: Reader finally runs into Colby again but things quickly take a shocking turn.

TW/CW: Mafia/Vampire!Colby Brock x Reader, a man gets shot, Colby reveals his fangs, Reader is held at knife point.

Requested?: No

A/N: I'm not sure how I feel about this one tbh.

Part 1

(Y/N)'s POV

I had spent the past week since my late-night adventure unable to stop replaying the encounter. Specifically everything about Colby. The man wouldn’t leave me alone, constantly being in my thoughts and dreams. Part of me wonders if by some miracle he was doing it on purpose. I attempt to shake my head clear as I enter the office building in which I work. I have said nothing about the night to anyone. Sometimes I catch myself wondering if it was actually real or just a weirdly vivid dream.

I trudge through the first half of my work day and when it’s finally time for lunch I make my way to the break room for my food. I avoid eye contact with anyone around and only speak when spoken to to not seem completely off my rocker. I plop back down at my desk to poke and nibble at my food but am soon lost in thought, staring at the small fan perched on the edge of my desk.

After I’m not sure how long, a hand breaks my eye contact with my fan making me drop my fork into my still mostly full bowl. I look up at my coworker and best friend with confusion written across my face.

She chuckles, “You good (Y/N/N)? You’ve been really off all week.”

I shove the thoughts of Mr. Mysterious out of my head and nod, “Yeah, just haven’t been sleeping well.”

She tilts her head, “Are you sure? Seems a bit more than sleep deprivation. Kind of feels like your mind is just somewhere else.” I shrug, knowing I’m caught but hoping to avoid explaining myself. She doesn’t seem to accept my answer as she pulls up a chair beside me. She pats my shoulder gently, “Do you wanna talk about it? You know it’ll stay between us.”

The problem here is I really do want to talk about it but I don’t want to worry anyone or sound crazy. I decide to dance around the bush, “I may have met a guy.”

She slaps my arm, “No way! Who? Do I know him? What’s he like?-”

I halt her barrage of questions by placing my hand over her mouth, “Shhhh! It’s not like I want the entire office to know!”

She composes herself before whispering, “Sorry, sorry. Go on.”

“Well, he’s the mysterious type. Talk, dark, and handsome ya know?” I explain. She nods, encouraging me to go on so I do, “I don’t know I just can’t get him out of my head.”

A grin stretches across her face, “Ohhhh fun. When are you seeing him again?”

I think for a moment before shrugging, “I’m not.”

“What do you mean you’re not?” She inquires in shock, “If you can’t get this man out of your head then you obviously need to see him again.”

“I don’t know… I just… Something just feels strange about it,” I stumble out.

“If you don’t see him again, I’ll never let you live it down,” she declares before noticing the clock shows lunchtime is over, “Welp, keep me updated.” She gets up from her chair and wanders off, grinning at me over her shoulder before disappearing behind the cubicles. I take my lunch back to the break room fridge, thoughts quickly slipping back to Colby.

Finally, the work day ends and I make my way back to my apartment. Even as I go about my evening routine and get ready for bed I can’t help but wonder if my friend was right. Maybe I should go see him.

Colby’s POV

Sitting here, deep in thought at the bar there’s only one thing on my mind, (Y/N). All week she has had me distracted. I don’t bother to look away from my glass as someone enters the room. The chair to my right slides out before being filled. Clearing his throat, Sam speaks up, “Whatcha thinkin’ about man?” My only response is a shrug. “It’s her isn’t it?” He inquires. Again, I simply shrug. Sam claps a hand on my shoulder, “I’m telling you, bro. She’ll find her way back.” He orders a drink before suggesting, “Or maybe you go looking for her?”

I shake my head, “Wouldn’t know where to start.”

“With this,” Sam replies, sliding a slip of paper in between me and my glass.

My eyes drift down out of curiosity and find a receipt for a gas station not too far from here. “Where’d you get this?” I ask as I scan over the purchased items.

“She dropped it on her way in,” Sam answers, “I figure maybe she frequents there and if so, maybe you can catch her.”

Jake stretches and sits up on the nearby couch, “Or you could always stalk her Instagram like I did.” My head snaps up as he shuffles over showing me his phone. There she is. Somehow this goofy fucker found her. I look up at him in confusion. He shrugs, “Figured there couldn’t be too many in the city by her name,” he takes the seat to my left, “I was wrong… but I finally found her while you were over here in your sulk fest.”

I take Jake’s phone from him and scroll through it briefly before handing it back to him. I take a deep breath looking up at the clock, it’s late but worth a shot. I down the rest of my drink before scooting away from the bar and exiting the building. I need to find her, there’s just something strange about her that I can’t let go of.

(Y/N)’s POV

I toss and turn for hours after going to bed. Finally, I toss the covers off of me as I decide to make a gas station run for snacks. I guess I’ll just follow my new routine of snacking all night while I stare zombie-like at the TV screen. Slipping into my sneakers and shrugging on a jacket, I make sure to grab my keys on the way out. The walk to the gas station is quick and soon I’m heading back to my warm, humble abode.

Since I got so many snacks and drinks this time, I decided to throw my hood up and take a shortcut through an alley way. However, I soon find that to be a terrible idea as a man steps out of the shadows in front of me. I look up half expecting it to be Colby or maybe even Sam but the man before me is nowhere near the oddly comforting duo. This man looks like he’s seen some shit and quickly spits out, “Drop your shit, cutie, and give me your wallet while you’re at it.” I attempt to sidestep him but he blocks my way and holds a knife to my throat.

Colby’s POV

During my wandering around the area surrounding the gas station, I began to get more and more disappointed. That is until I saw her. My heart skipped a beat and I a smile etched its way across my face. There she was. I followed close behind, too nervous to actually call out to her. What if she thought I was a creep for looking for her? To be fair, I guess I am a creep considering where I am now. I watched as she entered the gas station and after some time returned with several bags. I almost reached out to her then, I wanted to offer to carry her bags and escort her home. Still, I stayed in the shadows. Perhaps, if I had stepped out and helped her then she wouldn't have walked right into a man I knew was dangerous. He ran with the Red Gang. He was a lacky but I’d seen him out and about.

My stomach drops as I notice him pull a knife from his pocket before placing it to her throat to stop her from sidestepping him. I don’t think this time, only act. In a flash, I pin the man against the wall by his throat, baring my fangs at him. He immediately cowers before me, “I-I’m sorry, Mr. Brock. If I had known she was with you-“ His words halt as I squeeze tighter.

Behind me (Y/N) speaks up, “Colby, don’t. Let’s just go.”

I look down, concealing my fangs and eyes before looking over my shoulder at her, “You okay?” She nods. I look back at the man in my grasp and decide it’s better to not start a turf war right now. I release him and turn to (Y/N) offering my hand, “Let me carry some of those for you.”

(Y/N)’s POV

Gratefully I look down and begin untangling some bags to hand off to Colby. As I return my gaze to him I notice the stranger raise his knife and aim it at Colby's back. Before I can speak up to warn him, the stranger lies dead, a red dot on his forehead where the bullet entered to end his life. Colby looks up in the direction the dot is coming from with a disappointed look on his face. I follow his gaze and spot Jake who waves with a smile upon making eye contact with me. I look back at Colby with shock on my features. Colby doesn’t look at me, only clenches his jaw before commanding, “Get down here,” not directed at me but at Jake.

In the blink of an eye, Jake is at our side, “You know I’m not gonna let you waltz into enemy territory alone, Boss. Always gotcha back.”

Colby purses his lips into a scowl before removing all of the bags from my hands and shoving them at Jake, “Back to the bar.”

Before I can even take a breath, I am standing in the middle of the bar in which I had originally met Colby, unable to even think straight.

Masterlist

More Colby Brock Imagines

[toast-tales]

Cursed Cravings, Chapter 9: A Taste So Bittersweet

In which Christopher gets a taste of the past, thanks to Danny. Contains: 2.1k words | Chapter 1 | Read this story on A03!

Christopher felt a little more confident about preparing Danny’s food the next morning, given that it hadn’t ended up all over his shirt the day before. It was a mindless task for him, but he found a simple sort of peace in preparing the food the enchanted kitchen kept stocked and fresh, portioning it as much as he could into a size that was manageable for Danny to consume. He often wondered why Sybil had given him a magically stocked kitchen with food for his size, not humans, but he wrote it off as just another form of torment. A way to further taunt him with the most glaring issue his awful, cursed body possessed—he couldn't taste any of it.

“I’m glad you’re finally eating the food I make for you,” he remarked smartly to Danny as he set her tray down next to her bed, where she was still tangled in the sheets, her hair bedraggled and her eyes laden with the weariness of having been woken up too soon, even though the sun had long since risen past the horizon. 

She sat up slowly, looking at him curiously as her eyes narrowed in confusion. “Wait, you made that?” She gestured toward her tray. “But Sam said you didn’t eat food. How do you know how to cook?”

Christopher tried not to look too taken aback, but it was hard to repress when she’d broached a topic dangerously close to questions he couldn’t—and didn’t want to—answer. “They told you that?” God, what else have they told her? I really need to keep a closer eye on them. 

“Uh…yeah. How do you…I mean, you’ve never had food before? Like, ever?” 

She didn’t seem judgmental, but her curiosity didn’t seem to heed the generally accepted standard of avoiding prying into other people’s lives. 

“...no,” Christopher lied smoothly. He couldn’t speak about the curse if he’d wanted to, or even allude to the fact that there had ever been a time that he had been human like her, and not truly a giant at all. Thankfully, he’d had plenty of practice in crafting a believable tale around his identity, so the lies flowed as easily as breathing for him. “I don’t really know what food tastes like, but I’ve read many books to help me learn how to cook for my…human guests. It’s always been an interest of mine, even if I can’t experience it fully.”

The statement wasn’t entirely untrue—it had been so long since he’d been human that he had started to forget what normal food tasted like at all. The meals he prepared for Danny didn’t even have a scent to him anymore—even Sam could smell the aroma of fresh-baked bread and sweet desserts without a body, somehow. But to him, it was all an empty, hollow sensation. If he tried to smell any of the food, or put it upon his tongue, it was bland and tasteless, prompting his body to respond with the same level of disgust as one might have if they tried to ingest a handful of dirt from the ground. 

For a few years, it had made him rather melancholy, to not be able to partake fully in one of his favorite hobbies anymore. Even before his parents’ death, he’d always found his way into the kitchen, begging the cook to let him try to make something. He’d spent so much time in the kitchen with Sam once everyone else had left, often taking the duty from his manservant entirely. It had helped to give him something to do, to keep his mind off of things.

Now, his tongue was stained with but one taste—only one thing met it with any sort of flavor. Thinking of it still made his stomach turn over.

Danny chewed thoughtfully, regarding him with an expression that suggested she believed him—just barely—but found his statement even more curious as a result. “Do you…want to know what your food tastes like? I could try…describing it to you.”

Christopher tilted his head, a slightly dumbfounded grin on his face as he was broken out of his trance by her unexpected offer. “You’d do that?” 

She shrugged nonchalantly, pointedly looking away from him again as if the idea had started to embarrass her. “I mean, if you’ve never eaten anything it might be a little difficult to explain, but I can try.” 

Christopher tried to hide his excitement and failed, his grin tipping upwards slightly as a humored curiosity stirred inside of him. “Go ahead, doll.” 

Danny picked up the tiny sliver of bread he’d carved off for her and took a bite thoughtfully. “It’s…warm. And…crispy, but soft on the inside. It’s sort of like…there’s something about bread that feels satisfying, and comforting. It makes you feel full. I guess, besides the way it tastes…” Her eyes gained a sort of far-off stare to them, as if she was looking at an entirely different scene. “...bread makes me think of family, and being content and safe. Even when we didn’t have a lot of other food, we’d usually be able to make some bread, at least, and that was enough for the moment.”

She blinked a few times, as if coming back to the present—looking slightly embarrassed as she did so and glancing down at the tray. “But, um. Your bread’s pretty good. I don’t know if any of that made sense.”

Christopher leaned lazily against an arm that he propped up on the chair, gazing intently past Danny. For whatever reason, her explanation filled him with a sort of nostalgia. Even if it wasn’t quite an experience he knew personally, as “family” had never been a concept so warm and loving to him, he thought that for a second he could taste bread on his tongue again, as if she’d somehow brought the concept to life for a fleeting moment. The taste was gone as soon as it had come, if it had even come at all—but the warmth it brought him remained.

The compliment also didn't evade him. A smirk overtook his face.

“It made perfect sense. Please, continue.” 

Danny gave him a somewhat uncertain, skeptical look before she continued on, picking up a piece of the sausage he’d cut down to be handled by her. Though he of course had no human-sized silverware to give her, he found it a little humorous that she simply used her hands to eat without a second thought. He used to get his own hands smacked for doing so as a child. 

“This is kind of…well, it’s a bit fancier than what I’m used to back home, but it’s, um…savory? And a little spicy. I, uh, guess you wouldn’t know what that means. Um…” Her head bobbed from side to side as she tried to think of a way to explain it.

Christopher did know those sensations, faint as they were in his memory, but he was finding her struggle a little humorous to watch.

“...it’s sort of like, your tongue stings a little, but it’s not painful. And…” She chewed on, pensively. “It’s like every time you think you get one flavor down, there’s another spice or something you can catch. I don’t know, I’ve…we don’t get to use a lot of spices back home. And meat’s kind of a special occasion thing, at least stuff like this. This is…it’s kind of exciting, like you keep unraveling new things the longer you eat it. But all the flavors work together to make something really, uh…” She waved her hands around in circles to articulate her point. “...complete?”

Danny waved it off, quickly finishing the bite of sausage. “Although, I mean, it was probably pre-made or something, but still.” 

“No, no, I’ll take the compliment,” Christopher teased, though he really had done nothing more than slice the sausage into a smaller size for her. 

She rolled her eyes, and moved on to the orange. He’d only managed to cut the wedge so small—it was still easily the size of her face, but she tore into it anyway. Juice dripped down her clothes, but she ignored it as she chewed.

He couldn’t suppress a small laugh, though he tried to hide it behind his hand as a cough. 

She glared at him. “What’s so funny?”

He gestured with a light wave of his hand to her whole body. “You’ve got a bit of…on your…”

“I was gonna change anyways.” She stuck out her tongue at him. “You’ll just have to do your guest’s laundry.” 

Is she really starting to boss me around? As if I’m the one that does laundry anyways. He didn’t correct her, though—he just found himself staring at her with a gentle amusement, caught off guard by her brazen nature as always. 

Danny continued on with her explanation, still utterly unbothered. “This tastes like…summer. Like the way sunshine feels on your skin, and how nice cold water feels when it’s really hot outside. It’s sweet, and a little tangy. But refreshing. It tastes…happy.” 

An unexpected sensation gripped his own tongue, the imagined citrus dancing across his taste buds almost as if he had taken a bite of the orange himself. Thanks to her, he could remember, for just a brief moment, how the fruit had tasted—for just a moment he became swept up in that simple joy she described, finding an odd significance and sentimentality had lent itself to the experience. It was just an orange she was describing—a piece of mundane fruit he’d probably never spared a second thought to all those years ago—but in this moment, he swore he almost felt…

…human.

He blinked a few times, having almost completely detached himself from the present moment. Danny was still eating, completely oblivious to his introspection as she munched on. He shook his head slightly as if to clear it, but instead felt a tiny surge of emotion well up in his chest. He couldn’t place its source, or even its nature. 

“...thank you, Danny. That was…very enlightening.” He rose to his feet to leave, bowing his head slightly towards her as he did. “I’ll leave you be for now.”

She gave him a quizzical look. “What, you have things to do?”

He turned away from her, not allowing her to see his face—which he was starting to lose control over keeping composed. “I…do have some errands I need to take care of. I’ll find you later.”

“Alright,” she replied, a little quieter than before.

He left the room and closed the door softly behind him, wandering down the halls aimlessly for a short while. He hadn’t a destination in mind, nor did he have errands to run.

All he could think of was the way she’d listened so intently to the story yesterday, and the way that she’d fallen asleep in his hands. The way she boldly defied him, even though she was dwarfed in size and class alike. The way she described her simple breakfast in a way that touched him, and somehow made him remember a time when he had been well and truly happy.

She spoke with me. She isn’t afraid of me—I don’t even think she hates me as much anymore.

A thought tugged at his mind, a tiny and pestering worry that began to impede on the light, happy feeling in his chest until it became corroded at the edges with anxiety.

I enjoy her company.

Sam had been right—he hadn’t been trying lately, not for the last few years at least. It was so, so much easier to limit his interactions with the people he kept, even as the crushing weight of loneliness invaded his soul. It was easiest not to grow attached, and to keep them afraid, or angry—because the light of trust in their eyes would always extinguish, and it would pierce his heart every time to remember the way they looked at him once he’d had them inside long enough to push the beast far enough back beneath the surface, when he let them out, just before he took their memories away. 

It was easiest to just ignore the people he kept here. To let them think of him as nothing more than a cruel monster. That was why he hadn’t been trying to be nice, even if being nice would surely be the only hope that one of them would fulfill the impossible conditions needed to break the curse. It was soul-crushing work, to do it over and over and over again, never able to consume the same person twice, always needing to find a new face to look at him and scream in terror.

Danny would be just another one of those faces. Within a week, he’d need to consume her.

I enjoy her company. 

I don’t want her to be afraid of me. 

He didn’t even think about the possibility of her being the one to break the curse—all he could think of was that of all the people he’d met, captured, and invited over the years, she was one of the first in a long time that he found himself, unfortunately and inexplicably, beginning to care for.

And how could he subject someone he cared for…to that? 

…oh no.

* * * * * * * * * *

Next chapter ->

Christopher may have started to care. But does Danny feel the same way? Is there any hope at all of breaking his curse? Next week is chapter 10, Chosen!

Thank you for reading!