#he wants his vision for his new hot husband she can deal with a little insubordination

[moeblob]

So it occurs to me that I posted most of their lore on my OC blog (though a few posts on here have the story info) and honestly I think it's very important to note that the entire reason a guy from Florida is recruited to help defeat the demon lord isn't him as the hero. His younger brother (by about ten years younger) is the Chosen Hero and... not very good at it. So the goddess (Solei) who had selected the hero has to begrudgingly go back to earth and convince his older brother to help save her world.

(Also Reynold admits to Solei that "Sascha could never be a bad influence. He's the best impulse control I've ever had" and she really doesn't like to hear it. That's terrifying.)

[marleyybluu]

Glasses

Husband!Oscar x black!wife!reader

Word count: 2k

Content warning: fluffy fluffy, Oscar is a stubborn husband, a little sexy flirtatiousness at the end, just your typical married couple and we love it, reader is hot for Oscar and his glasses (I mean I would be too tf)

A/N: bare in mind that i don’t have glasses idk how the process goes lmao I just made shit up so sorry if it’s not accurate I guess. Who cares we’re in make believe land rn

Sorry for typos && bad translations if any

(I know these aren’t glasses glasses but… you get it lmao)

"Mama..." Rafa says poking your arm, you look down at him and smile. "Yes?"

"Why is Dad making that face?" He asks pointing over to Oscar who's holding his phone down in his lap with his head tilted up slightly so that he can see the screen better. You shook your head. That old bastard was a stubborn one. You have noticed for months now that Spooky is squinting to read everything, he's holding things at certain angles just the see the words correctly. He even has the kids reading things for him when he flat-out can't make out any of the words.

And of course, you've confronted him about it, saying if he wanted you could schedule an appointment with an optometrist and get his vision checked but he tells you— "No, mamita, I'm fine."

Stubborn Jack ass.

You roll your eyes and sigh dramatically. "Mi hijo, maybe you can talk some sense into your big-headed father. Because he won't listen to me." You say loud enough for your husband to hear. He grumbles and looks over at you, so tempted to say something disrespectful but your son is there. You wiggle your eyebrows taunting him.

"Papa, I think you need gafas."(glasses)

Spooky breathes heavily like a dragon, you swear smoke comes out of his nose too. "Mira, baby, let me just take you to check your eyes. If I'm wrong I'll eat my words and do anything you want."

His ears perk up at the offer. "Anything?"

And you knew what that tone meant. Spooky had been asking for another baby sooner rather than later but you constantly rebuttal with the fact that your third child, Emilia, was only a year old and you refused to have two under two. "Yes, anything." You reply confidently knowing you'd win this battle. He says it's a deal and you smile proudly keeping a reminder to make his appointment later.

-- --

In the days leading up to the appointment, he swore up and down that you'd be wrong, that you'll soon be walking around with a round belly all over again and he couldn't wait to see it. You remain quiet and shrug, occasionally giggling at how cocky he was about this.

After dropping the kids off at your mom's, you two head over to the Optometrist. You're pleasantly greeted by the woman at the front desk who asks you who the appointment is for. Oscar finds himself a seat and huffs like a child. You roll your eyes and mention his name. "I'm assuming you made the appointment." She smiles light-heartedly. "That obvious?"

"Trust me, I've got one at home whose chain I have to pull to even get him to the doctor. They're all like that."

You giggle and look over your shoulder at him as he pouts and looks at his new shoes. The receptionist says she'll let the doctor know you two were there and be back to guide you to a room. You take a seat next to Oscar who immediately puts his hand on your thigh, squeezing at your supple flesh. "So, what do you think the next baby will be? I hope it's a boy, I can't lie."

"Will you shut the fuck up? You are not winning this bet, Diaz."

He looks around before trailing his hand up your dress, your eyes widen when his fingers brush over your panties. "Who you talkin' to like that? Don't let this bet get you fucked up."

You swallow your attitude and shrink in the chair, he removes his hand and gently kisses your temple. Maybe he'd get another baby out of you regardless.

It wasn't long before you two were called in. Once in the room, Oscar was told to sit in the chair that was hooked up to everything while you sat in the extra chair not too far from them. He starts by asking Oscar about his medical history; and if anyone in his family has problems with their vision but he says, "Not as far as I know."

You watch as he's asked to read the chart across the room and he instinctively squints, you cover your mouth to stop your giggles.

Even with the act of squinting he ends up getting a lot of them wrong.

He's tested furthermore and, honestly, it was not looking too good. He was struggling so much that it was truly getting to him, his nails scape at the jeans over his knee caps-- taps them once in a while whenever he lets out a frustrated sigh. You were beginning to feel bad for him, wanting to whisper the letters to him so he didn't feel so... shitty.

The lights in the room turn on and the optometrist sits in his chair. "Mr. Diaz, unfortunately, I do think you'll need some prescription glasses. You are more farsighted in your right eye than you are in your left. The left eye seems to be fine for now. So, I will put in an order for a pair of lenses and when they're ready we'll give you a call to pick out the frames."

Oscar sighs, he sounds so defeated. You two thank the doctor and make your way out of the office building and back to the car. He sucks his teeth while buckling his seatbelt, he crosses his arms and waits for you to put the car in drive but you don't budge. "Why are you acting like this?"

He shrugs. "Let's just go."

"No. What are you upset about?"

"I'm old."

There was a moment of silence, took you a a minute to realize he was serious. "I'm old, mama. I can't see shit, I'm tired, I'm cranky. I'm fucking old. Next thing you know I can't play with my kids, can't play Fútbol con Rafa, dios mio." (Soccer with Rafa, my God)

He was genuinely spiralling. "Papito, I hate to break it to you but we're supposed to get old." You say to him but it (obviously) doesn't help.

"Lo sé, mi amor, pero, they still have to make it to middle school and high school, I gotta see them through college."

"Who says you won't? Mi marido, (my husband) we will be there for all of their events, for all the big changes. We will still be there when they all leave the nest to create their own, and when they come back to visit." You reassure. "I'll still be next to you in a rocking chair. We are not going anywhere, anytime soon. Entiendes? No hay prisa." (Understand? No rush)

He nods, still pouting. You lean over and plant a loving kiss on his lips. "If you ask me you will make a sexy Abuelo. Glasses and all."

"En serio?" A little bit of confidence coming back to him.

"Sí, papi chulo." You purr pulling him in for another kiss. "You know we have a lot of time before we got to get the kids." He grumbles his lips travelling down your neck. "Let's go before you get us in trouble in this parking lot."

He shrugs. "Wouldn't be the first time."

You laugh. "I know, I don't want to relive it."

-- --

Days passed and Oscar finally got the call to pick up his lenses and choose the frames, you offered to go with him but he said he wanted to surprise you. You'd been waiting all day excited to see what would walk through the door.

You sighed flipping through the selections on Prime, the house was quiet with the kids either distracted or sleeping and you were bored-- until you heard the car door slam shut and his keys jingle right outside the door. The door swings open but he doesn't enter, not yet. He calls out for you and when you answer all too eagerly he chuckles at your excitement. "You been waitin' on this all day?" He asks.

"Yes, hurry the fuck up." You rush. He appears from behind the door and stands with his arms slightly open. "Cómo me veo?" (How do I look?) He asks. Your eyes widen and your jaw slacks. They were simple black frame glasses, they weren't obnoxiously thick or oddly small, and they were good enough to fit him. You sit up on your knees and lean over the back of the couch. "You look... good. Muy guapo, papito." You slur feeling a heat spread in your lower belly. His eyebrows raise in surprise, he knows that look anywhere.

"Quierida..."

"Oscar... " You had the filthiest line ready for him to hear until a pair of footsteps descended from the steps. "Whoooooa! Elliana, Mira! Papa got glasses!" Rafa announces rushing down the stairs to get a better look and shortly another set of little feet made their way over. The two children were so interested in what was on their father's face and how different he looked. "Can you see better?" Elliana asks and he smiles giving her a sweet kiss on her head. "Sí, mi corazón. Thanks for asking."

Rafa turns to you. "Mama, doesn't Dad's glasses look cool?"

Their eyes were on you but you could feel the taunting nature of your husband's eyes. "Yeah... mhm, he looks... they look-k good." You stammer causing Oscar to smirk.

He had seemingly found an upper hand on you with these glasses and he wasn't afraid to use it over the next week. He had them on even when he didn't need them to see that look on your face— the lust, the adoration— your pupils seem to expand whenever you see him in those spectacles. He just looked fucking hot.

It was the best when he walked around in his grey sweats, alone, with no shirt. Just his tattoos and glasses to complete his look and you ate it up every time. You tug on your bottom lip as you paint the picture in your mind. But why imagine, when you can just go see. The house was quiet, all the kids were sound asleep, you shifted out of bed as carefully as you could to not wake Emilia. Once you are successful you grab the baby monitor and creep downstairs, the television is off and the whole first floor is dark-- the only form of light shines through the windows courtesy of the moon. 

"Why the fuck would you do that!?" 

Ah yes, of course, he was in his habitat. The basement. You sneak your way down to see that the ceiling light is off and he just has the ones around his monitors on, though they are bright enough for her to see where she's going. His back is turned and he's so zoned in that your presence goes unnoticed for quite some time. You cross your arms and dramatically clear your throat to let him know you're here. "Yall give me a minute, wifey is here." You can hear the collective; "Hi wifey!" "Hola señiorita!" "What's good Mrs. Spooky?" 

You smile and greet them right back before he mutes his mic. "What's up?" He spins his chair to give you his full attention. "Emilia's awake?" 

You shake your head. "No, she's still sleeping. Just came to hang out." Your eyes ogle the print in his sweats. He follows your line of sight and chuckles. "You sure?"

"Mhm." You swing your leg over his legs and perch yourself on his lap. "I mention how fucking good you look in these glasses?" You purr leaning in. "They havin' an effect on you, ma. That I can see." He hums ghosting your lips with his. "And that's why you should listen to your esposa (wife)more." 

Your lips finally meet and it's not long before you two are practically nibbling at each other with a mutual desperation to end the sexual tension that's been created over time. "Let me hop off the game-" 

"No, it's okay. They can't see you right?" You smirk gnawing at his jaw. "No, they can't."

You reach between your bodies and slide your hand into his sweats. Oscar reaches up to adjust his glasses and when they begin to fog up he cleans them off and reaches to put them on his desk when you stop him. 

"The glasses stay on, Diaz." 

if you liked this fic, feel free to like this fic, reblogs and comments are appreciated. peace and love, see you in the next one🤙🏾

🏷️: @darqchilddaydreamz @educatorsareslutstoo @realhotgurlshit @bigenergy777

[chaotic-good-hippie]

a glimpse of us 

Pairing: Jonathan Levy x AFABreader (she/her)

Summary: Trying to deal with her husband’s affair, our protagonist takes a glimpse at their story, wondering if he ever loved her or if he just liked the idea of being loved.

“That's the thing about illicit affairs and clandestine meetings, it's born from just one single glance but it dies a million little times."

Word count: 3,500

Warnings: Angst, cheating, mentions of sex, no use of y/n, non-descriptive reader (but it’s kind of implied reader isn’t Jewish). Also, I'm not Jewish, so if anything related to their tradition is incorrect, please correct me.

Inspired by: Basically Taylor Swift's entire discography.

Other chapters: Chapter 2 · Chapter 3

Chapter 1: Shock & Denial

“I don’t understand.” The words come out of her mouth with a nervous giggle, the smile on her lips intact. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Well, don’t you find it a little suspicious?”

“No, why?”

Her confusion is legitimate because, at first, the idea of Jonathan and Mira even being in the same room together is absurd. Sure, they don’t hate each other– and for the most part– any kind of resentment is long gone, but they tend to avoid interacting unless Ava is involved. Whenever they face each other, there’s always a palpable tension in the room and, more than once, she’d feared their sarcastic and ironic remarks towards one another would turn into a screaming match or worse. Therefore, the only logical reason she can come up with as to why they’d willingly walk into a room alone, let alone a house, is that they had founded a secret underground Fight Club of something.

“Oh, no, it’s nothing.” Winona, her best friend, sounds as confused as her, but for another reason. “I didn’t mean to bother you; I Just thought I had the responsibility to tell you, that’s all.”

“Oh, it’s okay, no problem. Thanks.”

And for a couple hours after she hangs up, as she goes up and down the house cleaning and organizing, trying to figure out how to deliver the good news, it’s genuinely not a problem at all. She goes on with her night in a peaceful ignorant bliss, blinded by her excitement and good faith.

By ten, when she sits on the living room's couch with a cup of cocoa in hand and the biggest smile on her face, the weight of Winona’s words hasn’t quite settled in yet. She opens her messages with tingling fingers, a corny romance movie playing in the background, and she texts Jonathan with enthusiasm bubbling up her chest and hot cheeks.

«Thoughts on Italian? I have something very important to tell you.»

«Was thinking about that restaurant near Ava’s school, the one with the fettuccini you so much like. Maybe tomorrow night?”

«btw, I miss you. The house is so quiet without you and Ava :(»

Normally, she wouldn’t expect him to answer right away, especially considering he’s supposed to be mourning with his family. Still, she's so happy that she can't help but be a little impatient. So, after some minutes of scrolling through social media to distract herself, she ultimately gives in and calls him instead, heart on her sleeve. 

The phone rings for a while, much to her dismay, and she's about to hang up when his singing voice greets her from the other side of the line:

"Hey, sweetie." 

"Hello, handsome." She sings back, giggling, a mushy warmth blossoming deep in her chest. 

"Hi, baby." They both chuckle, and she can perfectly picture him smiling, messy curls falling over his glasses, a vision that makes her smile. 

"Why are you whispering? She whispers back jokingly. "Am I interrupting something?" 

"Oh, my mom fell asleep already, and I don't want to wake her up." He clears his throat, nervous, and while she knows he tends to do that when lying, she lets it slide. 

"Sorry for calling this late, my love, but I miss you horribly." 

"It's no problem." 

"How's your mom?" 

Even though she had offered to take some days off work to accompany him to his father's shiva, Jonathan had insisted on going alone. It bothered her a little, feeling it was her duty as his wife to be by his side in such a delicate moment. But ultimately, she accepted it after he told her he didn't feel like dealing with his mother's snarky comments toward her for seven days straight. However, she still called each family member to express her condolences and spent an entire night baking kichlach for Jonathan to take with him. When it came time for the funeral, she asked again to go with him, but he refused once more, claiming his mother only wanted her children and herself to be there. It hurt, but she wasn't about to disrespect the widow's desires, especially since she kinda abhors her. 

"She's fine. It's just... You know, the whole thing at the ceremony was really draining for her.

"Oh, my dear." She feels guilty for leaving him alone in a moment like this. Maybe she should try harder to build a relationship with his mother for the sake of their little family. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, don't worry, darling." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yeah. Well, you know how it is. It's like the... Being at the cemetery and then going to an empty house. It was a lot for her." 

"Of course, it must be terrible to lose your life-long partner." God knows, even if she had only been with Jonathan for three and a half years, she couldn't imagine a life without him now. "I'm so sorry, my love. Don't you want to stay a little longer? Maybe your mom would like that." 

"No, no, I gotta go back to work." 

"Okay." A huge smile creeps on her face at his words. "So you're coming back tomorrow?" 

"Uh, yes. Taking the 6:30 train out of Valley Stream, then the Amtrak from Penn Station." 

"I wish I could pick you up, but my shift starts at seven." 

"It'll be fine, sweetheart. I'll see you at home when you come back." 

"Ugh, fine." She bites her lip, trying to hold her excitement to not spoil the surprise. "Did you see my messages?" 

"No, I'm sorry. What they say?" 

"Can I facetime you? I want to see your gorgeous face." 

He laughs, but there's something hidden in the way in which he stutters before answering:

"Okay. Yeah. Just, uh..." She can hear him panting as he walks hurriedly, then a door closes. "Trying to connect here."

She hangs up, and not even a second later, his phone starts buzzing, her name displayed in big white letters on the screen. 

"Oh, look at you, such a marvelous sight." Her cheeks heat up, something she'll always be surprised by. No matter how many times he complimented her, he always managed to turn her into a giggly schoolgirl with his sweet-talking. "I love how that sweater fits you." 

"Only because it makes my boobs look bigger." 

"Oh, I like your boobs just the way they are, honey." There's an eco in his video. "I'll show you just how much tomorrow night." 

As she laughs at his flirty attitude, her eyes divert to his background, where she can see a strangely familiar tile. 

"Where are you?" A strange uneasiness suddenly overcomes her, a sign that her brain has already caught something her mind has yet to figure out. 

"I'm in the bathroom." 

"What?"

"I'm in the bathroom." 

"Oh." She tries to match the tiles to a room in his parent's house, but nothing comes to mind. 

"What did you want to tell me?" 

"Ah, yeah... Um..." She can't focus on her words, distracted by those damn tiles of unknown origin. "I have great news, amazing actually... So I thought we could celebrate in that Italian restaurant near Ava's school." 

"Basile?" 

"Yeah, there." 

"Uh, they have the best fettucini." He licks his lips, and she forces a smile, her mind rushing. "Seems good to me. May I have a hint of what we are celebrating?" 

"No, it's a surprise." 

The whole situation feels like a deja vú, from the way he's whispering to how he stutters every three words, anxious voice rushing through the conversation. It all takes her back to three years prior.

«Hey, how did it go?» 

«Are you okay?» 

«Hope it wasn't too bad.» 

«Wanna have breakfast together? I think I can make it before you leave for work.» 

Four innocent messages were all it took for Jonathan to blow up at her, even if she had only sent them because she was worried. 

When Jonathan had told her Mira was going to stop by their house to discuss the divorce, she became wary, but only because he'd been doing so well for the past few months, she feared her presence would trigger him. It took time, money, therapy, tears, and some inebriated late-night conversations, but his eyes had finally regained their light, and his lips remembered how to smile. It irked her to think a conversation with his ex could throw so much effort out the window in a matter of minutes. 

Thus, when he didn't call or text like he'd promised to, she immediately assumed the worst. And, as much as she wanted to drop everything and check on him, she had a duty at the hospital, so for now, she could only hope for him to answer the texts. 

Just as she was putting her phone away, it started buzzing, his name and photo illuminating the screen, making her smile. Even after months of dating, she felt like a teenager every time they talked or were together, a dozen butterflies fluttering in her stomach at the mere thought of him. 

"Hey." 

"Hey, hi!" She walked outside the emergency room and stood beside the entrance, watching the rain, to avoid getting in the way of doctors and patients. "How are you? I was dead worried–"

"Good, uh, yeah." He interrupted her, whispering in an irritated voice. "But, listen, it's not cool to, like, bombard me with–"

"Bombard you?" She tried her best not to match his tone, thinking he may have had a terrible evening and was just tense. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you; I just wanted to know how you were." 

"I told you I'd call you when she left." Suddenly, she went from a teenager to a scolded child with how he talked to her like she was stupid.

It took her by surprise, really; he'd never been anything but a gentleman with her since the day they met a little over a year before. He'd never been rude or condescending, not even in his worst days, and he always spoke to her with such tenderness she just melted on the spot. 

Why he's acting like a complete imbecile out of nowhere? 

"Yeah, I know, but it's almost midnight, and you–" It clicked then. "She hadn't gone yet?" 

"No, she hasn't. She's still here, okay?" 

"Oh, is everything all right?" Her blind fade was present there since day one. "Where is she?" 

"She's..." Out of all the possibilities, she certainly wasn't expecting him to say the next. "She's in bed." 

"She's staying in?" She really wanted to keep calm and be mature enough to not let jealousy invade her, but then a thought crossed her mind. "Wait, whose bed?"

"My bed." 

"And where were you before you called?" 

The line goes silent for some seconds in which she can hear him calmly breathe with nothing more to add. She waited for an explanation, anything that could soothe the turmoil of emotions tearing her apart from the inside out. Tears were already forming in the corner of her eyes, but she blinked them away as she bit her lip, troubled. 

"Why?" She inhales deeply, passing back and forth. "Jon, baby, I'm trying to understand you here, but you're not helping much. What happened? You were supposed to talk about the divorce and..."

"Listen–"

"Why is she in your bed? The same bed you made love to me just this morning..." He called her name, but she was so distracted in her ranting that she didn't listen. "And then you have the audacity to call me and complain about four text messages as if I was trying to control you or something." 

"We... we need to talk, 'cause this is–" 

The phrase sent her on a panicked rambling because nothing good ever came out of those words. She was shaking, the hem of her uniform getting wet as she mindlessly stepped on puddles. Her friends had warned her; they'd told her numerous times that dating an older married man wasn't the greatest idea, but she was already head over heels for him when all these happened. His gentle touch, sweet words, and ease with which he made her laugh and feel cared for; he was her safe space and vice versa. Or so she thought. 

"Yeah, of course, we need to talk. We're in a relationship, Jonathan, you kind of owe us some respect, you know? That means establishing certain boundaries with Mira..."

"This is really just not, uh...–" She kept talking over him, between upset and scared for what he had to say.

"We can talk about this over breakfast, alright? I'll pass by Starbucks on my way to your house, I'll be there by seven–" 

"I'm trying to tell you we should take a break because this is just not..." That's all it took to leave her speechless, a shaky sight leaving her lips as the first tears fell down her cheek. "Not working out for me right now." 

"What are you talking about?" Her voice cracked, anger boiling down her throat. "It was working perfectly fine this morning, Jon." 

"No, uh, uh..." He didn't know what to say, a part of him breaking at the sound of her crying, the other just wanting to hang up and go back to Mira. 

"Jonathan, what the fuck!? When I left this morning, you swore she would only be there an hour or so to start the divorce arrangements. You kissed me, we had sex, we ate together. Everything was fine, and now you just decide it's not? What the fuck is wrong with you?" 

"Okay, you know, let me just... Let me stop you here before you say something that you're gonna regret" It only made her angrier, the way he was avoiding talking about the subject and treating her like a child. "Look, I'm... I'm really sorry it has to end like this, but, uh... Honestly, I've been feeling for a while that–". 

"Bullshit, Jonathan!" Some staff turned to see her as she yelled, and her cheeks heated up at the undesired attention. She was a crying mess, and she felt ridiculous for falling that hard for someone in only a matter of months while he just pretended to feel the same. She breathes deeply and lowers her voice, trying to control herself. "Jon, listen to yourself. Five seconds ago you wanted some time, now you're breaking up with me over the phone?" 

"Well, you know, that–"

"Jonathan, I love you." He immediately goes silent. 

Neither of them had said it before, but she had been tempted to more than once. As she lay on his chest, intertwined bodies under the covers; as he drank his coffee in the morning, wet curls fell over his glasses; as he talked about his students and his job; as he and Ava played. She knew she could only suppress it for so long, but she was scared of freaking him out, of it being too big of a sentence for his heart. 

"I love you, I really do. I love you so, so much." She sobbed, internally hitting herself for her bluntness in a moment like that. "Please, we can talk about it, please."

"I'm not..." He wasn't sure of what to say, caught off guard by her confession and the pain in her voice. 

Did he love her back? He had thought about saying it more than once, but the words always died out on the tip of his tongue. Sure, he was scared of loving again, but mostly he didn't even know if he was ready or completely over Mira. He felt terrible because she was perfect: Clever, funny, gentle, and caring, and the sex was the best he had had in his entire life. Then why couldn't he bring himself to tell her what he was sure he felt? 

"You don't have to say it back, it's okay." Her heart was being ripped open inside her chest, but she wasn't going to guilt trip him for it. "I, just, um... Please, please, don't leave me." 

He pronounced her name in a breathy voice, blinking his own tears away. "I'm sorry, it's better this way." 

"Jon–" Her beeper goes off, and huffing, she checks the message as she roughly wipes the tears from her face. "I have to go, they need me here." 

"Okay, bye." He swallowed the lump in his throat, resisting the urge to take back his words. How could he after everything he just said? "I'm sorry." 

The tile is the same as the downstairs bathroom in his old house, the one he shared with Mira for over ten years. She comes to the realization with trembling hands, a tight pressure on her chest making it difficult to breathe. 

"I love you." Jonathan says with a smile, not noticing her entire world is shattering right beneath her because of him. "Can't wait to see you tomorrow." 

It took him so long to be able to say those three simple words that every time he pronounced them, she treasured them in the deepest of her soul. But not today, today they feel like the worst of burns. 

"I love you too." The words are bitter on her lips. "I'll leave you, you must be tired, and you still gotta travel tomorrow." 

"Okay. I'll see you at the restaurant at 8, is that okay? 

"Yeah." 

"Great, love you. Laila tov."

"Laila tov." 

He hangs up, leaving her alone with the TV voices and her inner turmoil. Her previous excitement is gone, and all she can think about now it's Winona's words:

"I saw him entering his old house with Mira, and they've been there for a while." 

“No.” She whispers for only the wind to hear. “Not my Jonathan, not him.”

My Jonathan, a conjunction of words so familiar to her tongue, it almost feels wrong to say one without the other. Yet, as she absently fidgets with the gold band on her finger, she wonders if they were ever true or if it was just her turning a blind eye to the obvious. She wants to laugh and brush the whole thing off as her being sensitive, but her inner voice keeps telling her there's something terribly wrong. 

Surely, this all has to be a misunderstanding, right? Jon, sweet loving Jonathan, wouldn't betray her trust and lie straight to her face with no remorse. Not when he knows how much it hurts and how much she loves him. And even if he did, he wouldn't be as stupid as to do it in his old house and with his ex-wife. Not when her best friend lives just down the street, with a perfect view of the master bedroom from the second floor. 

It's Jonathan, her Jonathan, and he'll never hurt her like that. 

She doesn't even realize what her fingers are doing until the dialing tones sound beside her ear. One, two, three, then a female voice picks up:

"Hello?" Elisheva, his sister, greets her softly. 

"Hi, Shevi" She's holding her breath, livid and a little nauseous. "I'm sorry for calling this late, I just wanted to check on you and your mom." 

It isn't a lie, she truly cares for them even if Myriam sees her as an intruder in her family. Besides, she doesn't take it personally; Mr. Levy's hostility isn't directed at her as a person but rather at her status as his son's second wife.  

"Oh, no worries. We're as good as we can be, thanks for calling." Shevi's always been friendly with her, making an effort with Arie to integrate her into the family after getting engaged. "Although, it's a shame Jon couldn't stay longer, you know? Maybe that could have cheered up mom a little."

"He's not at your house?" The surprise and distress in her voice confuse Elisheva. 

"No, he left right after the funeral, at four." No, it couldn't be. Jonathan had told her he'd stayed with his family until tomorrow, and even if he'd decided to leave early, he should have been in the house hours ago. "He isn't home yet?"

"Oh, yeah, I just remembered." She lies, holding her tears and embarrassed. "He said he was going to stop by a friend's house, he probably lost track of time." 

The conversation pretty much dies there, and after wishing her goodnight and promising to call in the morning again, she hangs up, feeling a hole in her chest. 

She blankly stares at the TV for some minutes, dismayed, convinced she'll wake up any minute, and he'll be beside her. Messy hair, soft lips slightly apart, and his chest rising slowly in rhythm with his light snores. She'll cuddle him, bury her face in the crook of his neck and leave a trail of kisses from his jaw to his lips; he'll wake up and return the gesture, and they'll have morning sex and have breakfast together, and everything will be just fine. 

This was all a nightmare. 

Just a nightmare. 

A nightmare. 

Then, as a bucket of cold water, the cuckoo clock on the wall chimes, and her inner hell unleashes. 

[lubdubsworld]

物の哀れ ( ‘the sadness of things’.)

Characters : Alpha! Jungkook x Omega ! OC.

ABO Dynamics.

Genre : Arranged Marriage / Temporary contractual Marriage.

Warnings : Non- Con/ Extremely Dubious Consent . High functioning alcoholism. Genre related consent issues. Implied suicidal thoughts. 

Summary : A recently widowed Jungkook agrees to a contract marriage to keep his company afloat. His grief overwhelms him and it is hard to look at his new wife as anything other than an intruder .

[  Author’s Note :  物の哀れ ~ Mono no aware can be translated as ‘the sadness of things’. It comes from the words 物 (mono – thing) and 哀れ (aware – poignancy or pathos). The ‘sadness’ in question comes from an awareness of the transience of things, as taught by Zen Buddhism. When we view something exceptionally beautiful, we might feel sad because we know it won’t stay so beautiful forever – but appreciation only heightens the pleasure we take in the beautiful thing in that moment. ]

Chapter 1

 Chapter 2

I wrapped the white wool shawl tighter around my shoulders. The night was still chilly and the and smelt faintly of impending rain. Why they would plan a party outside while it rained, was beyond me.

After my little skirmish with Jungkook, I had found Namjoon quickly only to be told that we couldn’t leave for another hour at least because there was a  certain investor who wanted to meet Namjoon . The guy was running late and he had to wait for him. So here I stood, shivering lightly, all while keeping an eye on my husband as he got progressively drunk.

Namjoon’s words made me sigh a little.

“You can’t decide what someone else’s normal is, Namjoon. Especially when it comes to grief.  But the drinking is an issue. And you’re right about the therapist. I know she’s doing her best but I’m not sure if she has the right answers for him. Or even the right tools to help him.”

“I’ve been searching up on therapists who specialize with alphas. There’s one in Itaewon , his name is Kim Taehyung. I really think he could help. He’s an alpha himself.”

“That sounds good. Betas may not fully understand alpha mating bonds or what it’s like when one of them dies. Taehyung may have a better understanding of what Jungkook’s going through.” I nodded, a little hopeful. 

Therapy with the beta lady the hospital had recommended wasn’t really helping Jungkook the way it ought to.

Namjoon hesitated.

“Would you be willing to go with him? Taehyung insists a family member stay in the waiting room just in case...” he asked gently. I turned back to look at my husband, leaning on the mahogany countertop of the bar, fingers curled around a glass of whiskey.

“And I’m the one you want to consider for that? That’s ridiculous. Jungkook hates me.” Did I really have remind him of this salient fact? 

“I’ve offered to, before.  He doesn’t want me there." I sighed as Jungkook threw the drink back with ease.

“That was three months ago though. Things have changed now right?” Namjoon prodded.

I laughed, shaking my head.

“Not between us they haven’t. He’s spending more time with Mina and he isn’t throwing stuff around but he still loathes me.”

“He loathes what you represent: his own shortcomings and failures. Your father wasn’t kind in his approach and you are a reminder of all the things he can’t control.”

How fucking unfair,  I thought playing with the tiny  ring on my finger ( or should i say handcuff really? ), my wedding ring , the platinum band engraved with my husband’s name, a drop of his blood embossed into the metal. 

An archaic tradition, that carried no meaning in modern Seoul but the idea of it was still alive and well. The idea that what we had was a blood bond, imbued in our veins now.  An alpha’s connection with a beta or an alpha mate was usually quite fragile. But an alpha and omega mate bond. That was supposed to be powerful. 

Unless the alpha was still phantom bonded to a dead wife , that is. It was odd thing. Mate bonds had to be mutual to work. So there was no bond between Jungkook and I . We didn’t have any feelings for each other of course. But wearing someone’s blood on yourself changed that . it forced a bond that wasn’t there. It was ancient magic and it worked on my kind. Not on his. 

How fucking unfair because it wasn’t like I could control any of this either? 

I grimaced. I had thought of taking the ring off 

“Ouch.” I said with a smile. Namjoon waved off my self pity with an eye roll. 

“You know what I mean. Even for an Alpha, Jungkook has always held on to his pride. Losing his wife and his company all in the same week probably left him feeling incredibly helpless and your father browbeat him into this whole thing. Of course he isn’t going to be eager to share heart to heart talks with you. ”

I held my hand up. 

“I know all that Namjoon. I was there, remember? And I’m not blaming him for any of that. Trauma makes you do shitty things and I understand that . I also understand that if he was in his right mind he wouldn’t behave the way he does now. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t change his mind for him. If he doesn’t want to get help, I’m kind of helpless myself, you know?”

Namjoon reached out and squeezed my hand.  

“I’m just asking you this because , he does listen to you at times. I’ve noticed it. He doesn’t outwardly agree with you but he takes your opinions into consideration. And, Heejin you live with him and you’re the one who managed to convince him to start scenting Mina. ”

And God, how exhausting that had been. I had kept at it because Mina was so young and she needed her father’s scent to grow. And while i could be persistent when necessary,  I couldn’t work miracles. 

“Namjoon oppa, “ I said softly, trying to explain myself without sounding like a horrible human, “  I don’t hate Jungkook. Far from it. I want him to get the help he needs and I’m here for him. If you can convince him to go see Taehyung and he’s okay with me coming along, I won’t say no. Mina needs him and there’s nothing I would like more than for him to get better. ” i smiled a little, “ But he’s still going to have to be the one to make that choice. i can’t make it for him.” 

Namjoon nodded.

“ Fair enough. Well,  I’ll talk to him about it. We’ll set something up. Thank you for not refusing Heejinah. I know it can’t be easy for you either. 

I opened my mouth to respond but out of the corner of my eyes I caught a glimpse of someone, staring intently right at me.

 I turned sharply, eyes locking with those of Kim Yugyeom and I stiffened, stepping closer to Namjoon on instinct.  Yugyeom smirked, winking at me. 

I shuddered in disgust. 

Creep.

Namjoon followed my line of vision and swore.

“This motherfucker.” He made to move towards him. and I grabbed his arm, fingers digging into his forearm. The last thing i wanted to witness was an alpha alpha showdown in the middle of a party with me in the middle. 

“Please, no. Don’t make a scene. It’s what he wants.”

“Jungkook has the shittiest friends on the planet.” Namjoon shook his head and I couldn’t agree more. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mina’s appointment with the doctor went about as expected. She was right on time with her milestones and I sat in the waiting office for a mere twenty minutes before being called in. The doctor, an alpha named Min Yoongi gave me a small smile of recognition before flipping through the pages of her file.

“ Jungkook didn’t come along?” He asked casually, grabbing a pen and making a note of her weight and length before plotting it on the small graph. She was a little on the smaller side but she was growing well. 

“He’s busy...” i said with a shrug, “ So I still keep giving her the polyvisol supplements?” 

Yoongi nodded, “ The nurse will fill in the prescription for you. Are you sure he’s busy? He called me last night and told me he wanted to come see me?” 

I blinked. 

“He did ? “ I couldn’t quite process this. 

“He wanted to talk about how she’s doing and I told him he could come in for her appointment today.”

I imagined a world where Jungkook actually spoke to me, instead of forcing  me to navigate stormy waters on rotten plywood. Nine more months, i told myself firmly, already digging for my phone. Nine more months and I would be out of this living hell I’d gotten trapped in. 

“Can I try calling him? He’s probably forgotten. I think he might regret missing out.” I begged and Yoongi gave me a small smile, waving me off. 

“Of course you can Heejin-ah and tell him that if he wants I can drop by at the office and talk to him as well.” 

I nodded quickly , moving out to the waiting area while the nurses held Mina, soothing her before getting her ready for her shots. I tried calling him and not surprisingly he didn’t pick up. I called his office next and Jungkook’s secretary picked up the phone .

The woman hated me. 

“He’s busy.” She said curtly.” He’s specifically asked me not to bother him with stuff that isn’t important.” 

Her whiny voice grated on my ears and i bit my lips to keep the irritation in. 

“Since when does his daughter make that list, Ms Lee?” I said calmly and she hesitated. 

“He’s in a meeting right now and-”

“I’m in the hospital with his daughter. I hope you’re willing to take the heat when he finds out that you wouldn’t let me get through to him. “ I said casually. 

It was a twisted version of the truth for sure. Meant to imply that Mina was hurt in some way. But I couldn’t bring myself to regret it much. I had enough on my plate without dealing with twenty year old secretaries who fancied themselves in love with their hot boss. 

 “I... just a moment, Mrs. Jeon.” 

I loathed the name. It wasn’t mine. It was hers and I felt like a thief every time someone addressed me that way.

After two minutes, Jungkook’s  familiarly low and perpetually exhausted voice came out ,

“Hello? Heejin?” He sounded listless and his voice just a little slurred and i groaned. 

“Please tell me you aren’t drunk.” I whispered. 

“I’m not. “ He said shortly. “ What’s wrong? What happened? Is Mina alright? ”

“Did you tell Yoongi that you were going to meet him today?” 

He was quiet for a second. 

“i’ll talk to him.”

He hung up and I stared at the phone. I realized that I shouldn’t have called him in the first place. Should have asked Yoongi to call him himself. What was wrong with me? Even a few syllables exchanged with Jungkook felt like staring into an abyss . 

I moved back to the clinic , just as Mina plaintive wail filled the room. The shots were done. It took us another thirty five minutes to finish filling her prescriptions and for Yoongi to finish examining her. She was already dozing off and I wasn’t supposed to feed her for another thirty minutes so perhaps the nap would do her good.  I had just finished settling her into her Bjorn carrier  when Jungkook’s voice came from the entryway. 

“Is this the way to Dr. Min’s office?” 

I glanced back to watch him . He looked ridiculously handsome in a three piece suit, jacket thrown over his arm and hair lightly damp from the misty drizzle outside. I saw the secretary’s mouth actually drop open and stay agape as she tried to process his questions. i could see the way his beauty had rendered her entirely witless and as someone who had experienced it first hand , i could sympathize, 

But Jungkook was beginning to look annoyed from the lack of response and i decided to give the poor girl a break. 

“He’s waiting for you.” I called out and Jungkook startled. He glanced up at me and for some reason he looked surprised. He always looked surprised when he saw me. As if i was just some monster out of his worst nightmares turning up in odd places . As if he couldn’t quite believe that i did exist in his life now. Unwelcome but impossible to avoid. 

“You’re here.” He said blankly. 

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. 

“Yes, i am. I’ve been here for three months now. “ i said shortly, before i could stop myself, “ Mina’s fine.  She just had her shots. I’m going to drive home and put her down for a nap. Do you want me to come with you ?” I pointed at the clinic. 

He hesitated before shaking his head. 

It was all according to script then. Jungkook would never include me in a single thing. Even if i was smack damn in the middle of the room with nowhere else to go. 

“Alright. i’ll see you after work.” 

“We’ll have guests for dinner today. ” He said suddenly. 

I stared at him, confused.

“For dinner??”

“ Sooah’s parents.” 

Oh, God. 

Wary of the extra nurses suddenly filling the room, the little whispers and the curious glances, i kept my smile even. 

“Of course. ” I bowed a little before turning on my heel and walking away. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sooah’s parents were, for lack of a better word, selfish . 

They had lost a daughter, so of course i could understand with their need to keep their daughter’s memory alive. But the way they chose to do it was unhealthy and borderline vindictive. 

" She’s growing well.” Mrs. Kim had the same statuesque figure as her model daughter and she held her grandchild with a slightly unsure grip and Mina felt the uncertainty in her grip, breaking out into cries at once. I stayed still, my throat dry from disuse. I hadn’t said a word since they came in. 

We were seated at the table, dinner was done. 

Jungkook sat next to me, staring straight ahead while his father in law tried to engage him in conversation. 

With Jungkook, the grief came in waves. Some days, the waves were small and gentle, like the ones that lapped at your feet on the shore of a tranquil lake. on those days e went about his day as usual, spoke to his friends and signed deals.  And somedays they were big, behemoths carrying guilt and accusation, crashing over his head with a vengeance. 

On those days , he looked like he’d been run over by a two ton truck. 

Today was just one of those days and i could sense it.

The man was going on an on about some charity that Sooah had been involved in as a young girl... Could Jungkook make a contribution in her name?. Could Jungkook pay for a concert of her favorite singer in her hometown..?  Could Jungkook possibly consider contributing to opening a foundation in her name? 

I could feel the urge to scream, grow by the minute.

 Each syllable that spilled out of her father’s mouth was aggravating, the sentences began and ended with her name, over and over over again and It felt terribly like she was standing right next to me, ice cold and dead but real and relentless at the same time. He spoke of her like she was still alive and i couldn’t fathom how that was healthy. How that was going to help Jungkook move on.

 If anything it made it harder for him to move on. 

And in a moment of chilling clarity, i realized  that this is what they wanted. 

They didn’t want Jungkook to move on from her. They wanted him to be consumed by her. In the wake of that realization , i felt anger surge. 

There was just enough hurt and heartbreak and pain and grief in this room without these idiots adding to it. 

“Jungkook is tired tonight, uncle.. Perhaps we can discuss this later.” I said finally, unable to bear it any more.

The man gave me a glare.

“I wasn’t talking to you girl.” He said sharply. I frowned. 

“We’re trying to help Jungkook. “ The woman said sharply. “ Unlike you and your father we do not prey on the weak. “ 

Jungkook shifted at the phrase and I glared at her.

“He isn’t weak. “ I snapped, resisting the urge to add on a you bitch , “He’s grieving . And what he needs is space to process his grief. Not you people trying to shove your daughter into his throat with every sentence. “

“Don’t you dare talk about our daughter!” Mrs. Kim snarled and i felt a headache come on.

“I thought that was why you were here? To talk about her? Or should I say use her as an excuse to get money out of him??  What you’re doing is unfair and awful!! . Jungkook isn’t ready to talk about this and one look at his face should tell you that, if you even bothered looking at anything except his wallet.” I shouted. 

“Heejin, that’s enough.” Jungkook said hoarsely and i bit my lips. 

Of course he wasn’t going to support me even if we were on the same side. Defending him, protecting him was exhausting and it was such a thankless job. i wanted it to end. 

“I think we should call this a night. please, just leave” I said sharply, standing up and reaching for Mina. She glared at me but handed the baby over. 

“You don’t get to make that decision. My son in law is who I’m here to see. You’re just the parasite that’s attached herself to him. You sit there in my daughter’s place and you dare disrespect me this way. ” The woman snapped.

“Its still my house. “ I gritted out. “ I’m married to Jungkook whether you like it or not and so i have the right to ask you to get out of my house.” 

“Heejin, stop.” Jungkook’s voice only made me angrier. He sounded drained and empty and still these leeches wanted to suck him dry. And he was too  blind to see it. 

“I’m done with this” I stood up moving to the small pack and play that sat in the corner of the living room. i placed Mina in and watcher her eyes flutter shut gently. 

i turned back to stare at Mrs. Kim.

“i want the pair of you to leave. Get out before I call security.” 

She gaped at me. 

“you had a wedding... that doesn’t make it a fucking marriage. “ she sneered. “ Its probably not even legal until you consummate it. So go ahead, call the cops right now. You think i wouldn’t take you to court. ??!! ” 

She was spouting absolute nonsense, probably driven by her own grief  but i wasn’t feeling particularly charitable tonight. 

“Why don’t you ask your son in law that? Ask him if the marriage was consummated or not...” I smirked. 

She faltered, eyes wide and disbelieving.

“No. You’re lying ...he wouldn’t.” She turned to Jungkook who looked at me with fury in his eyes. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He said sharply and I scoffed.

“With me? What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with these idiots that they think they can come here and ask you to sign a fucking cheque when you’re still out here grieving for their daughter?!”

“You don’t know shit about them or her...” 

“I don’t have to. I don’t have to and i don’t care to either. All I know is that i married you and you’re my husband and whether you meant those vows or not, i did. I swore in front of my God and my family and I’m going to keep those promises. I’m going to protect you because I love your daughter . I’m going to protect you because you need to fucking live to be able to care for her. “ 

i turned to stare at his in-laws. They were staring at me, some of the fire dying out and in the span of a few minutes they somehow looked older . 

“You don’t deserve to be here.” Mr. Kim said finally, voice cracking and i exhaled. 

“And yet, here I am. And I’m not leaving. you are.” I said calmly. 

They stared at me for one more second before standing up and moving out of the dining space and into the hallways leading out. 

“We’ll call you later Jungkook-ah...” The man said before walking out of the door and slamming it shut behind him. 

The silence between us grew heavier as the seconds ticked. 

“We can’t decide how people grieve.” Jungkook said softly. 

I stared at him in disbelief. 

“You’re telling  me  that , Jungkook? Or did you forget all the times I indulged you when the only way you could grieve was apparently  by forcing yourself on me.” i snapped. 

His eyes widened , just a fraction before going blank again. 

He took a deep breath and went on. 

“They lost their daughter and they’re hurting. We can’t tell them they aren’t allowed to honor her memory...They’re clearly in pain...”

“Not more than you!” i snapped. “ You’re the one in pain here Jungkook. Your pain is so much more than theirs ..... Or may be it isn’t i don’t know.. But i do know that I can’t sit here and watch them bleed all over you when you’re cut just as deep as them.” 

“You don’t know shit about e!” He roared. “ Don’t you fucking dare talk about my grief like you can understand it...like you actually know what its like to lose the woman who had your fucking heart, because if you did you wouldn’t have agreed to this fucking marriage...you wouldn’t be here in this room with me, intruding on my grief and my pain... “

The sound of his voice made my entire body freeze in fear. I stayed perfectly still, jumping when he crossed the distance between us and grabbed my face, fingers curling around my jaw. 

“ You want to know how i wanted to grieve? I wanted to grieve in solitude!!! I wanted to grieve without some fucking stranger hovering over my shoulder like a fucking plague!”

I exhaled shakily, fingers trembling as i reached up to hold his wrist, my entire jaw throbbing with how hard his grip was. 

“It’s the price you pay for getting your company back. Jeon Jungkook. “ I choked out.” Or did you forget that marrying me is the reason you aren’t homeless on the streets “

He laughed a little yanking me closer and wrapping an arm around my waist.

“You’ve learned to talk back these days...” He muttered , “ I think I preferred the girl who hid in the nursery for the first three weeks of our wedding.” 

“I wasn’t hiding . I was avoiding you. Because your misery was contagious and i didn’t want any of it on me.” I snapped and his hold on my waist tightened. 

“Are you trying to make me angry? ” He snapped, fingers curling on my waist and I swallowed the whimper of pain that threatened. 

“Maybe i am... Maybe anything is better than watching you walk around this house like a corpse. You’re alive so I don’t see why you act like you died with her.” 

He growled at that, eyes blazing as he stepped back enough to stare into my face. 

“You’re right... I didn’t die with her. Although i wanted to...Maybe if i wasn’t such a fucking coward, i would have gone through with it.  .” He laughed and I felt my heart go ice cold at the very thought of it. 

“You didn’t die... So why don’t you get some help. There’s no shame in getting help... Taehyung...”

“I don’t need help. i need to be alone.” He snarled. “ I need to be allowed to cry and mourn my wife the way I want to but you and your father made sure that i couldn’t.”

I sighed, looking away in defeat. 

“Fucking look at me!” He snarled, hands grabbing both my arms and yanking me forward. “ Why won’t you look at me huh?  is the guilt finally catching up?” 

“No. No guilt. Just loathing and resentment.” I snapped back and he laughed again.

“Well too bad. Because you know what? You’re right. I paid for my company with my right to grieve and you...you paid for my name with your right to say no . “ 

I swallowed as he yanked me away from the table, dragging me to the couch in the side. 

“ I never refused you a thing.” I choked out, breathing ragged as he shoved me into the soft leather surface, crawling on top of me at once. “ I only said no when you were drunk out of your mind. When you thought it was okay to fuck me and call me by her name.” 

He made swift work of the buttons of my blouse and I stayed still, arms lying by my side. 

“ Are you telling me you want this ? You expect me to believe you want my hands on your body?” He sneered, fingers moving up to grip my hair. “You don’t want this and you don’t want me....Just like i don’t want you either. i’ll never want you. ” 

“You don’t want me.??.. You have a funny way of showing it..”  I scoffed , staring right into his eyes rolling my hips up into his  , greeted by the hard press of his length against my thigh.   “ And to be honest i don’t give a damn if you’re still in love with her , all I want is my name on your lips if you want to get off with me. Because I’m not just a toy you can use to replace your dead wife. I have  a name and you should remember it.  "

He growled again, fingers squeezing hard against the back of my head till my scalp felt like it was on fire.

“I hate you. “ He said clearly. “ I hate you and everything you’ve done to me.” 

“Everything I’ve done to you? Oh you mean save your life? Taek care of your baby girl like she was my own? Give you the chance to rebuild your entire career.? Turn you into multi millionaire again?  Good. Hate me. The feelings mutual. “ I snapped. “Now if you hate me so much why are you still here? Get off me.” 

“I’m not going anywhere, wife.” He sneered. “ Because like you said, I’ve paid for this.” He drawled, reaching down and squeezing between my legs. “And I’d be a pretty bad businessman if i don’t collect from my investments.” 

Before I could retort, he pulled back, just enough to grab me by the waist and flip me over on my front. I flinched when he grabbed my arms, yanking them back and trapping my wrists together in his fist at the base of my spine. My cheeks pressed into the leather couch, sticky and uncomfortable. 

i heard the sound of his zipper, the clink of his belt buckle. 

Coward. 

I shivered when he pushed my skirt up.

“Don’t enjoy this too much, yeah?” I snapped, “ You hate me remember?” 

“Easy enough to forget its you when I don’t have to look at you.” he retorted. 

He slipped one arm under my waist, lifting me up just enough for him to yank my panties down. 

“Just remember , you don’t get to blame the alcohol for this .” I sneered. “ You’re sober and clear headed and you’re hard for me. “ 

Somehow that seemed to bother him.

He stopped . 

I could feel the hesitation in his limbs. 

It made me laugh. 

“You know Jungkook, i took you for lot of things but a coward wasn’t one of them.”

“What the fuck does that mean huh? I should put you in your fucking place for how insolent you are with me... ” he pressed down on me and i gasped when I felt his chest pressing into my back, his face inches from my own. I flinched when he sank his teeth into the mating mark on my neck. 

“it means that if you’re going to do this, if you’re going to talk big about putting me in my place like the big bad alpha that you are, at least own up to the fact that you’re attracted to me. ” 

“ You forget your fucking place, omega.”  he hissed, voice sharp and furious against my ear. “ Another word out of that mouth and i won’t be responsible for what i do.” I gritted my teeth when he curled his fingers around the inside of my thigh, parting my legs and settling in between. 

He pushed into me in one strong thrust and my eyes flew open in shock. 

“Fuck.... why are you so fucking tight...” He groaned and my shoulders began to throb as he fucked into me, setting a punishing speed that left both of us panting . We were too fucking would up for it to last any longer than a few minutes and yet, i could feel pleasure swell inside me, wetness seeping out of me and onto the leather couch beneath us. 

I wondered just how fucked up this whole thing was. Just how much damage were we doing to each other?? But it was hard to care too much about it, because even if though it was a terrible way to talk things out at least he had talked. It was nothing new....nothing earth shatteringly enlightening but he had said it all out loud and that made a difference. 

“You think you can come into my life and dictate how i fucking live.” He grunted against my ear, fingers tightening on my hair. “ it pisses me off.” 

“Everyone dies, Jungkook. People die and they leave loved ones behind but Life goes on. It has to go on. You can’t just pause life to grieve. Mina needs you.” I felt my eyes begin to sting with tears, the adrenaline from the argument fading and my body threatening to go limp as he drove into me at the same punishing pace. 

He didn’t respond, fingers closing around my throat and squeezing lightly instead.

“Save your platitudes before i decide that the warmth of your body isn’t worth the grate of your voice on my ear.” He snapped and I whimpered when he stilled, spilling into me. 

He stayed pressed up against me. breathing harshly against my ear and i waited till both our breaths evened out. 

“It’s not selfish to move on Jungkook. You aren’t insulting your wife’s memory by wanting to move on.  “ I said softly. ” Someday your heart and mind will agree with me. Whether you like it or not. That’s just how pain works, Jungkook. One day it’ll pack itself up and walk out of your heart in the middle of the night. You just have to hold on till then.” 

He didn’t reply, merely drawing himself up and off me. 

Once i heard the door to his bedroom slam shut i dragged myself up , thighs shaking and sticky. I grimaced at the mess on the couch. I stared at the packet of baby wipes on the table nearby and shuddered. That just felt wrong. 

I’d just have to go grab a washcloth from the bathroom. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On that weekend, we had another dinner to attend, this time with a few investors from out of the country or so Namjoon told me. 

Although we didn’t talk about what happened and he didn’t try to touch me again, things were subtly different. 

Something had changed in the way Jungkook behaved with me. There was a little less of the usual zombie like indifference and he actually seemed to be avoiding alcohol actively. It was a welcome change. But to make up for it, Mina went into a growth spurt. Which meant ten minute naps every hours or so with wailing sobs in between. 

i was exhausted. 

So much so that Jungkook told me that he didn’t want to pick Mina up from Seokjin’s place till the next day. 

It was a little past one in the morning when I finally trudged into the apartment. Jungkook wasn’t black out drunk but he was definitely a little loose limbed, eyes just a shade more glassy than usual.

“Tonight went well. I’m thinking the guy from Macau is definitely going to consider investing.” He muttered, gripping the door frame and taking off his shoes.

I toed my own heels off, feeling upset and bereft.

“Why would you tell Jin oppa that we’ll get Mina in the morning? She’s not used to being away the whole night.” I complained, feeling jittery and nervous because the house felt so empty and strange .

I didn’t like the idea of being alone with Jungkook without the buffer of his daughter between us. The house felt foreign, the walls seemingly closer together , the space to cramped.

Jungkook dropped his keys in the bowl and tugged on his tie, watching me carefully.

“It’s too late and Jin hyung said she was already asleep. He’ll drop her off in the morning. Just relax. Would you like a drink?”

I stared at him. 

What now? 

He looked nervous and a tad worried.

 Swallowing , I shook my head, turning on my heel.  

“I’m going to bed.” I was almost at the door to the nursery when he grabbed my arm, seemingly moving faster than I could breathe.

“Wait, Heejin… “ He stopped, worrying his lip between his teeth before sighing, “I… I need to say something..” He finished and I exhaled sharply.

I tugged on my arm but he wouldn’t let go.

“Jungkook , let me go.” I said sharply. “ I’m not in the mood tonight . You aren’t drunk now and I’m running out of reasons to excuse your actions.”

His hold on my arm relaxed but he didn’t let go.

“Namjoon hyung told me about that new therapist.... Kim Taehyung?? . I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He said roughly.  

I sighed, defeated. It was expected and yet it stung. I wondered if perhaps I was just beating a dead horse at this point. But Mina deserved to have a father who loved her with all his heart and Jungkook’s heart was so filled with grief it had no place for his daughter. If there was any chance I could help change that, I would take it.

I tugged my arm away again and this time he let go.

I tried to smile encouragingly. it was hard because i was all out of comfort, my own exhaustion too overwhelming at the moment.

So I took a deep breath and reached out to lightly touch his arm. 

“Listen, no one’s asking you to make a decision tonight, Jungkook.” I tried to smile a bit more widely but it probably came out as a grimace, “ Just sleep on it and think about why you think it isn’t a good idea. Taehyung’s an alpha and he may understand you better. Think about it and you can let Namjoon know later.”

He didn’t reply, merely staring at me till I began to feel a little hot around the collar.

“Well, Good night then.” I made to turn away but he grabbed me again, this time by my wrist.

“Wait.”

Patience wearing just a little thin, I stared at him, waiting as he requested.

“I’m sorry about what I said that night. At the party last week. About you not being her mother.   I shouldn’t have said that.”

It was the first time he had apologized for anything.

It took me a second to even remember what he was talking about. 

“Alright. I’m not mad. And I understand why you said it. Its fine. And you’re right. I’m not her mother and I should be more careful. ”

He nodded and then stepped back.

“ I’m sorry. For a lot of things. ”  He bowed awkwardly and I could only stare at him, shaking my head. The apologies were somehow both welcome and abhorrent to me. 

They were the kind of apology you would offer a stranger. And that made them insincere because I wasn’t a stranger. I’d been through too much these past few months, to be treated that way. 

For now I could only accept them at face value. 

“ Its alright. Just go to bed Jungkook. And listen to Namjoon oppa . I know you don’t trust me but you should trust him. He only wants what’s best for you. ”

I sounded twenty years older than I actually was and grimaced.

"There’s one more thing. Can I... I need... “ He stopped and stared at the floor. 

I felt a huge sense of foreboding rise up at that. 

“Are you going to pull the i paid for your body card? “ I said bitterly. “ You made it very clear that i can’t say no. I don’t see why you’re bothering to-”

“You can say no.” He said softly. “ You can say no.” 

And then he looked up at with limpid doe eyes, shining with all the stars in the galaxy and I wanted to sob at the unfairness of it all. 

“ And if I say no, where will you go? To a brothel? you’ll come back smelling like another beta or omega and you can’t come near your daughter till it fades. Which is what? A week? “ 

Jungkook didn’t say anything and I felt helpless. 

“Is that why you sent her away tonight?” I demanded and he looked genuinely surprised. 

“What? No. Of course not . i just...You looked exhausted. I thought you’d like a night off. And just... I don’t want to have sex. Can you just sleep with me. I just... I don’t want to be alone tonight.” 

“What’s so special about tonight?” i rolled my eyes already moving to his bedroom instead of the nursery. 

He stared at me for a few seconds, eyes empty in the dark of the hallway. 

I waited a whole minute before sighing. This was excruciating and my heels hurt from wearing heels all evening. i wanted to curl into the air mattress on the floor of the nursery , possibly lie sleepless till dawn and then drive down to pick Mina up from Jin’s place. 

“Jungkook , let’s just go to bed and forget-” 

“Its her birthday.” 

I barely heard him, his lips barely moved and his voice was so low. 

I stared at him. Not sure if I’d misheard. 

“What?”

“Its her birthday. “ He repeated. 

“You can say her name.” i said calmly. “ You’re not betraying her by saying her name out loud in front of me.” 

He went a little stiff at that and i wanted to kick myself for the remark. What a hypocrite I was. I’d reprimanded Namjoon for trying to dictate Jungkook’s grief and here I was , doing the exact same thing. 

“I’m sorry. God, Jungkook... I’m sorry. i shouldn’t have said that.  i didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me.. I... of course you don’t have to be alone. Should i call Namjoon oppa? Or Jimin?” I asked gently. 

“It’s Sooah’s birthday.” He was still staring at the floor, apparently he hadn’t heard a word I’d said. 

I had a sudden flash of memory, remembering that Jungkook used to sing. He had sung at his wedding seven years ago. Serenaded his wife as she walked down the aisle. I had been young then but i remembered thinking how evident his love was in every syllable sung .

Something i could hear even now, in the way he said her name. 

“Okay. What would you like to do? I... I can make seaweed soup.” I said softly. “ We can go see her if you like?” 

He stared at me. 

“I want to go alone.” He said finally. 

I hesitated. 

“I’ll drive you. i’ll stay in the car. You can’t drive.” I reminded him. 

Jungkook’s driver’s license had been suspended after one too many traffic violations. I drove him around often . 

He didn’t reply, staring out of the huge bay windows and i sighed. 

“Alright... Why don’t you go change  into something more comfortable yeah? i’ll get the soup going and we, “ i bit my lips, “ , I’m sorry, And you can go see her.  “ I smiled, before moving to the kitchen and grabbing the dried seaweed. I soaked it in cold water, before getting the beef, garlic, soy sauce, salt and pepper and the sesame oil from the cupboards. 

Ten minutes later, the soup was boiling away and I peered out at the door leading to his bedroom. I was still wearing the cocktail gown and my head was beginning to throb. I oved to the nursery and stripped quickly, slipping on my white t shirt and a pair of pink corduroy shorts. 

I would be in the car anyway.  By the time i finished taking off all my make up, the soup was done and Jungkook was slumped over the counter. He looked drained, more so than usual . In fact he looked notably worse than how he was ten minutes ago. 

Torn between the urge to draw him into my arms and the helpless knowledge that he would absolutely hate me touching him , i merely hovered near the stove, pouring the stove into a small airtight container. 

On a whim I moved to the cupboard  in the corner that housed all the crockery and threw it open. 

“What was her favorite bowl?” I said casually, staring at him. 

He blinked, staring at me like i was speaking a foreign tongue. 

“Her favorite bowl , Jungkook The one she always drank or ate from?” 

He swallowed but leaned his palms down on the granite countertop, levering himself off the tall stool of the kitchen island and making his way over to me. I stepped back, giving him space to peer into the depths of the black marble shelves. 

He finally stuck a hand in and drew out a pale yellow and mauve bowl , a little worn but intact. 

He held it carefully, running his fingers gently over the bowl, savoring the surface his wife had once caressed with her own fingers. I watched as his lips curved, a pale pale imitation of a smile but a smile nonetheless and I felt my breath catch in my throat. 

This was probably the first time he’d smiled in the three months i’d known him. 

My heart began to pound, a steady staccato that began rising in volume and i willed myself to stay calm. 

“I..uh.. I can wash it for you.” I said softly .

The smile disappeared as quickly as it had come and he stared at my outstretched hand like it was a snake . 

Face almost eerily blank he cleared his throat. 

“I’ll do it.” 

i watched as he moved to wash the bowl under the spray from the faucet and finished clearing up the kitchen. i grabbed a small bag to keep the sea wood soup in and held the bag open when Jungkook finished washing the bowls. He grabbed a fresh kitchen towel and carefully wiped down the moisture before wrapping the bowl in the towel and keeping it inside the bag, carefully. 

I smiled and zipped the bag shut. 

“Lets go shall we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

I sat waiting in the car, staring out into the darkness of the parking lot, while the rain poured torrents outside the glass windows of the car. I felt unaccountably alone, like I was the only human being left on the planet. 

It had been a little past an hour since Jungkook had disappeared into the building that held his wife’s ashes. I wasn’t sure if i should give him a call. Had he fallen asleep in there. 

I told myself I would wait another hour and if he didn’t come out, I would go check on him. 

I dozed lightly against the window, exhaustion beginning to creep in. I wanted to sob at how tired i was. I could have gotten a full nights sleep, something i hadn’t had since the day I took Mina into my arms. 

But then, i remembered the tiny smile that had sprung up on his face and i grinned despite myself. That was progress wasn’t it? It definitely was. I was sure that if only Jungkook could be convinced to go meet Taehyung , the alpha therapist, things could get so much better for him. I wanted to have him at least halfway to being ..... capable of handling his own daughter, before i left him. if not the worry alone would eat me alive. 

I was just getting ready to perhaps climb over the console and nap in the backseat when my phone rang. 

I glanced at the dashboard, frowning. it was two thirty in the morning. 

Who?

I grabbed my phone from the bag and my heart leapt to my throat. 

“Jin? What’s wrong? What happened to her?” I could feel my heart threatening to give out, any number of terrible possibilities running through my head in a vicious loop.

“nothing happened, Heejin , take a deep breath... She’s just running a fever. it was quite low earlier but its hitting 101  now and I’m getting a little worried. I’ve given her cold baths and kept a wet towel on her but it doesn’t seem to be coming down.” 

“We’ll be there in ten minutes! “ i said quickly.

“I’m sorry, Heejinah, i don’t have any experience with babies and-”

“it’s alright...thank you for calling me oppa!” i hung up , already fumbling with the door and stepping out into the rain. i was soaked through in three second flat. What a day to wear a white t shirt. 

I ran quickly, stumbling a little on the gravel pathway and hoping to God i was going the right way. I ran into the foyer, the poor security guard falling asleep over his desk glancing up at me in sympathy. 

“there was a man here earlier?”

“Second floor third room.” He said casually.

I nodded, already rushing for the steps. I climbed the four flights of stair in two minutes, my heart threatening to give out. I found Jungkook in the room , kneeling on the floor and he looked at me in shock that swiftly turned to anger.

“Jungkook-” i gasped because the run up had robbed me of my breath. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He moved so quickly I could barely blink before he was right up in front of me. 

“Jungkook, I... We need...” I tried to draw a breath in but before I could form the words he grabbed my arm, so hard that I whimpered in pain. 

“I told you i wanted to be alone, what the fuck is your fucking problem?!” He snarled.

“Jungkook-” Before i could finish, he yanked me just a bit closer to him before shoving me out of the room with his wife’s portraits and the small ornate vase that held her ashes. 

it wasn’t that hard. 

He didn’t push me in a very brutal way. 

In fact it was probably with lesser force than what anyone slamming a door would use. 

But,

Jungkook was six feet two. He weighed a 170 pounds. 

I was a hundred pounds wet and barely came up to his shoulders. 

And it was just my luck that the wall opposite to the door had a large concrete and granite horse figurine placed right in front of it.  

I crashed into the torso of the equine, my bones rattling inside me and I whimpered when my wrist made contact with the hard surface, bending a bit out of place. 

I slid to the floor in a wet lump, trying to catch my breath and process what had just happened.

Jungkook stood frozen by the door horrified as he stared at his hands, as thought he couldn’t quite fathom what he had just done. 

A sharp burning pain began in my sides and I gasped out.

“Oh, fuck.” I swore. 

Jungkook moved to help me up but i was already crawling away from him, scrambling to my feet, ignoring the ache in my side.

“I’m sorry.” I said softly, holding both my hands up. “ It’s Mina...she’s running a fever. We need to go get her.” 

“Heejin-ah, I’m...”

One more apology and i would officially lose it, i thought slightly hysterically. 

“its my fault.” I said sharply, “  I should have probably tried calling you from the car instead of barging in like this but Jin called and i got worried...I wasn’t thinking straight so I’m sorry about that... I think we should go get her as soon as we can.” 

“Did i hurt you?” He demanded , reaching out for me again and I nearly fell again trying to move away from his touch. 

“No.. No I’m fine.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure, we don’t have to go the doctor.?  “ He asked nervously, watching me carefully wipe down her body with the slightly damp wet cloth. I nodded, carefully squeezing the water out before dipping the towel in water again. 

“She’ll be fine. Her fever’s come down and with babies this young, its safer to care for them at home than to take them to a hospital.” I said casually, 

 “I wasn’t talking about her.” He said stiltedly. 

I blinked, staring up at him in surprise. 

“What?”

“I think we should go to the doctor. You fell hard. ”

“Jungkook what are you even on about?” I said crossly, steadfastly ignoring the pain in my sides. It was sharp and unbearable with every breath I took in but I was too terrified to go to the hospital and have them tell me I’d cracked my rib or something. 

Partly because that would be so inconvenient. 

Partly because Jungkook would probably go back to being a guilt ridden shadow of himself if that happened. 

“I’m going to call Yoongi hyung.” 

Before I could protests some more he was already on his feet, moving to the living room.

Yoongi arrived thirty minutes later , annoyed and sleepy, dressed in a soft white t shirt and stone wash jeans. 

“It’s four thirty in the morning , she better be dying Jungkook..” He rasped out near the front door and i flinched at the murderous tone to his voice. 

Suddenly , i hoped desperately that my ribs had cracked. 

Yoongi stepped in , staring at me . He took in the mess of quilts i sat on and sighed. 

“Come here and take your shirt off.” He said gruffly. 

I blinked, feeling blood rush to my face. Was he always this handsome? Hating the very unwelcome flutter of nerves, I moved to stand in front of him, grabbing the hem of my t shirt .

But the movement jolted my rib and pain sharp and lancing shot through my side. I yelped and dropped my hand again breathing harshly which only seemed to make things worse. 

I swallowed and Yoongi blinked, reaching out to gently grip my elbows. 

“Hey...relax ... “ He said gently. 

I felt the press of a warm chest at my back.

“Let me help hyung.” Jungkook’s voice rumbled through my body, his chin brushing the top of my head and he bent over me from the back, fingers gripping the hem of my shirt and carefully lifting it up to just above the curve of my breasts. 

Yoongi was staring at Jungkook over my shoulders expression unreadable. 

“So you do know how to act after all.” He commented drily and I heard Jungkook inhale sharply behind me. 

“Hyung...” He said sharply, and Yoongi merely rolled his eyes. 

“How did this happen?” He ran slender fingers all over my skin, feeling each dent and dip carefully. 

“I ..uh.. I sort of fell into a statue? It was made of concrete and quite heavy.” 

His face shifted into a frown. 

“Jungkook , tell me you didn’t push her.” He said sharply and I jumped a bit.

“No...he didn’t.” i said sharply and Yoongi ignored me , staring right at the alpha behind me. 

“I didn’t mean to.” He said finally.

“You broke her rib, kid.” 

I groaned in defeat. Behind me Jungkook stiffened.

“It was an accident.” I said sharply and Yoongi gave me an unimpressed look.

“If i had a won for every wife that told me that.” 

“It was my fault and-” I shut my mouth. I did sound like the poster child for abused wife in denial. 

“Relax... I’m not going to send your handsome husband to prison.” He chuckled. “ This time.” He added, giving Jungkook another glare. 

“It won’t happen again. ever. “ Jungkook’s voice shook a little. 

I sighed, already imagining the self flagellation that was probably going on inside the alpha’s head.

Yoongi’s voice drew me out of my head. 

 “Its not a break. It looks like a crack which is easier to heal. But i still want you to come in tomorrow. We’ll get it x rayed. Its going to take a couple of months to heal.” 

I gaped.

“Months?” 

“As long as you take it easy you’ll be fine. Now where’s the little one?” 

Yoongi dropped off a small bottle of pediatric paracetamol and told me to keep an eye on her temperature before bidding us goodbye. 

Once the door closed behind him, Jungkook turned to me , eyes wide and lips parted. 

“If you apologize , I’m going to throw this  at your face.” i said calmly, fingers closing over the neck of the ceramic vase on the table. 

Jungkook blinked. 

“I’m sorry. “ He said nonetheless and I sighed, pulling my hands away. 

How fitting. Neither of us could act out of character. 

Jungkook couldn’t stop blaming himself for everything under the sun. 

I just couldn’t bring myself to hurt him in any way. 

“Just go to bed , Jungkook. I’ll be fine.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : As always the pain is here and probably going to get worse. But Jungkook seems to be turning mildly human so let’s see if he can keep that up. Also handsome pediatric doctor Yoongi as second lead because i like to torture myself. 

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[newtonsheffield]

Any chance of getting some spicy royals content on this fine Sunday? After they’re married/during their engagement, I have a vision of them doing their events and then going back to palace and just like tearing each other’s clothes off and doing it on any and all available surfaces.

My friend, you understand the Royals vibe.

Their whole romance started because essentially they couldn't keep their hands off one another. That's not going to change when they're together, in fact, it makes it all a little worse. The young queen and her future husband are well known for probably being too in love.

Kate wasn't stupid, she knew what the entire country was saying about her when rumours of her relationship with Anthony started leaking from the palace as these things often did. And she supposed she was a good part to blame. People couldn't help but notice the Security that lined the corridor outside Anthony's flat, and really that meant there had to be someone of note inside, and there was, of course, the very public way Anthony had gone about things. It didn't take long for the rumours to start.

She called off the wedding for him

It was all arranged for publicity

The Queen Regent demanded she marry him if not Stirling

He's a traitor and so must she be.

It was vaguely amusing honestly, the idea that Mary of all people would be encouraging Kate to do anything to Anthony that wasn't punching him in the stomach. The palace PR team had practically begged her not to acknowledge Anthony publicly

"All due respect Your Highness, This will be a disaster." Jenkins had said, the bridge of his nose pinched in his fingers, barely 2 days into her relationship with Anthony,

Kate had bristled, "What are you suggesting, Mr Jenkins?"

"I'm suggesting, that publicly, Our new Queen has no consort, whatever you do in private is of course your own business."

Kate had frowned, "And what about when we get married." A small hiss escaped several people in the room and Kate had pretended not to see the way Mary stiffened beside her, plowing ahead. "Surely eventually I'll have to marry someone, what do you suggest then?"

And no one had really seemed to have an answer for her, which of course meant the answer was clear.

Hopefully you'll come to your senses before then!

But it hadn't been necessary in the end. Sophie had sent them to a primary school, and aided by a rather adorable Hyacinth Bridgerton, Kate and Anthony (Kathony as they'd been dubbed) had emerged as they country's new it couple. Requests poured in for comment, the were star crossed lovers people that certainly weren't supposed t fall in love but couldn't resist the pull. And allegedly, everyone could see it. Just from the way they looked at one another.

It seemed every day in those first few months blurry pictures emerged of them, Anthony's head resting on her shoulder on a street corner, Kate's legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her through the garden on his back, Anthony crowding her against a tree their lips nearly touching. It was relentless, and rather than sullying the image of the royal family, it seemed to make public opinion soar. Yes, their new queen was young, beautiful, and very much besotted with her grouchy boyfriend. It really was quite the narrative, and not very far from the truth. Before long reports of them slipping away at public events seemed to emerge, and this the palace could not abide.

"Kate, please, please do not sneak out of this event." Sophie was practically begging, looking sternly between her and Anthony. "I mean it, "I get it, you just got engaged, and it's adorable that you're so happy but Can we stay to the end of one event this month?"

"Ahh Sophie, when you look this good, lady's are bound to drag you behind a topiary animal for a quickie." Anthony had said, with that insufferable smirk on his face."

Kate had scoffed. "Won't be a problem, Sophie, Anthony won't be getting any for a while."

As it turns out, it was a problem. Before they'd even left the palace Kate was warm. Anthony had been sitting in the small living area attached to her suite by the time her styling team had finished flitting around her, and honestly, the sight of him made her mouth go dry.

He was wearing a light grey suit, the waistcoat of which had a light checked pattern through it, cut tightly across his broad shoulders, his red tie and pocket square in stark contrast. She didn't really need to look at them, she'd known before she even walked in what colour they would be, they always matched, Anthony insisted upon it. Insisted on her crest being neatly embroidered into them, and it was a little unflattering but it aways sent a little possessive thrill through her.

She'd cleared her throat and he'd looked up from his phone, smile already in place though it turned just slightly predatory at the sight of her.

"Well, well, your majesty, don't you look lovely this evening?" His fingertips had trailed over her bare back a little delightfully.

Kate had scoffed, her cheeks burning, "we promised hands to ourselves tonight."

Anthony laughed, "There's almost no way you're going to be able to manage that, Darling. I look delectable this evening."

God his arrogance was startling, even if he wasn't far off the mark. "You look average."

He wasn't deterred. "I'll make you a deal, Princess" She'd been the queen for months but he still called her by her original title, his eyes shining at her. "If we stay until 11:30, I'll give you a reward."

A shiver had run down her spine as she'd thought about last night when he'd bent her over the back of the sofa, his hands hot against her. "Won't be a problem. Prepare to get on your knees for me."

"It would be my pleasure."

By the time they'd been there an hour, Kate was struggling, Anthony's hand was hot on her back, his eyes burning into hers as he laughed and smiled, his glasses shining in the dim lighting, and it didn't help that she was sure the air conditioning was broken.

And he wouldn't leave her alone. Usually at these events after a while they were tugged in different directions, mingling with this lord and that, as directed by their teams. But tonight Anthony shrugged off all of his instructions, keeping his arm like a vice around her, the smell of his cologne a little overwhelming, his deep voice rumbling through the both of them, his finger tapping his watch every time her own hand slipped under his jacket or to the edge of his trousers, a stupid smirk on his face. God he was absolutely unbearable, and she wanted him so fucking much, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

Her eyes didn't leave his watch from 11:28, counting down the seconds as they slipped by, clearing her throat as soon as 11:30 ticked around.

"Can you have the car brought around Steve?"

Anthony's smirk intensified into something like a wolfish grin as they waved once more to the assembled party before they slipped out the side doors.

"Well, Your majesty, very impressive restraint shown tonight." his voice was like gravel in her ear, both hands on her waist now, one on either side, his teeth already nipping at her neck, it was all she could do not to groan loudly.

As soon as the car door was opened, Kate had tugged Anthony inside, her hand wrapped around his tie, his hips bucking against her at the sharp tug she gave it.

"What are you doing?" Her own voice was rough as Anthony attempted to settle into the seat beside her, his eyebrows raised.

"Sitting down so we can go home and fuck?" There was something so innocent about the way he said it, that made her heart flutter with love for him, his hand fiddling nervously with his glasses.

Kate clucked her tongue, tugging on his tie until his knees were resting on the floor of the limousine in front of her. "But we have such a long drive home, Lord Bridgerton, you better get to work."

Anthony's eyes darkened immediately, his hands tugging roughly at the hem of her dress, calming as he slipped underneath it, his lips trailing up her thighs, hands forcing her legs apart.

"Fucking hell I wanted to crawl under this dress the minute I saw you, wanted to do it right there in that fucking room again."

Kate tried to force her voice into something like nonchalance, failing miserably as she shifted her hips a little desperately "Well it would have certainly given the Lords something to tut about, you know how they like that."

His chuckle was slight muffled through the layers of her dress. "They're just jealous, they don't get to have you."

And then his mouth started moving over her, hard and relentless, and fuck she couldn't breathe. The privacy partition was thankfully already up as it always was on the way home from events, but still, Kate knew the driver, and Steve who always rode in the front of her car could hear her, and there was something oddly thrilling about it. Oddly thrilling about the obscene noises that were pulled from her chest, about the soft sound of Anthony's mouth on her, the soft moans falling from his lips at the taste of her, his voice coaxing against her.

"That's it, Kate, you've been such a good girl for Daddy."

Her eyes rolled back in her head, unable to help herself as her hips bucked against him helplessly, desperately seeking just a little more friction.

"Please, Anthony, Please."

He chuckled again and then he started moving impossibly faster, his fingers joining his tongue, forcing her higher and higher, she could see the reflection of them in the window as the streetlights passed, th obscene image of them branded on the back of her eyelids, And everything shattered. A soft scream tore through her chest, Anthony humming happily in response as her chest heaved, her breathing erratic.

Anthony's head popped out from under her dress, checking his watch a little dramatically.

"Well that took 5 minutes so I think I can probably do that another 3 times before we get home."

He managed another 4, one rolling against the other like an endless wave, her screams getting louder and louder, condensation covering the windows in the back of the car. And Anthony's smug smile as he tugged her boneless from the car, really was absolutely insufferable.

[zafirosreverie]

Hey can you make a Agatha x reader where Wanda hurts the reader on accident and Agatha goes full witch and kicks wandas butt and then flys reader home and takes care of her wounds please. Love you fics by the way.

Aww you're so sweet. Thank you so much, love! I had so much fun writting this ❤.

I got another request for Agatha with a vampire reader so i decided to do both in one. I got a little carried away tho, so there will be at least two parts. Let me know of want more. Hope you like it!

Share my infinite (Agatha x Fem!reader) part 1

“Thank you” you said to the man in front of you as you left the grocery store and walked to your house. It was a pretty day in Westview, as always. The sun was bright, the birds were singing, the grass was green and everyone was trapped in a horrible pain inside their minds. Yeah. Beautiful. 

You sighed and groaned, covering your eyes from the light as you kept walking. God, you hated being here. Sure, it was nice at first, having the opportunity to see another scenery, one different from the forest you lived in. But having sun all the fucking days? Your worst nightmare. You loved being in the dark, the rain, the grey sky. It calmed you like nothing else could, with the exception of your girlfriend. 

You smiled at the simple thought of her. You and Agatha had been together for the past 100 years, and every single day, you fall in love with her a little more. How could you not? She was smart, passionate, funny, beautiful and powerful. You knew she wasn’t exactly a good person, but you weren’t an angel either, and she was hot so she could get away with it. She was just perfect. 

And she was so patient with you, always teaching you new things and happily answering your questions about everything. She even taught you some magic tricks, even if you weren’t a witch. Actually, you thought it was one of the things she liked about you, she could teach you everything about her culture because you were not part of it, which meant you always found everything she told you pretty amazing.

But, it was also one of the things she feared the most. You not being a witch, meant you weren’t biologically immortal like her. Somewhere on your genealogical tree was a dark secret. You had vampire’s blood on your veins. Just a little part that allowed you to heal quickly and age pretty slowly, but you were not a full vampire either, and still had a date of expiry. And that knowledge broke Agatha’s heart.

She has been trying to find a way to make you immortal like her, but she hasn't found one yet. That’s why she was always so protective of you. She was already fighting against time for you, so the thought of you being injured and taken away from her even sooner, scared the hell out of her. 

When she felt a strong magic coming from this part of the world, she decided she needed to know what it was, because maybe, just maybe, this could be the answer she needed to make sure you’ll stay with her forever. 

You chuckled at the memory of her trying to convince you to come with her. Of course you would have come even if she didn’t ask you to, but you always found too cute how her baby blue eyes lit up with hope whenever she found something that, perhaps, could give you eternal life. It made you feel so special, that Agatha loved you enough to keep searching for a way to make you immortal, even after all these years. 

“Y/N!” a little voice came from behind you and you turned to see Billy and Tommy walking up to you, bright smiles in their faces. You waited til they were by your side and smiled too. 

“Hi boys, how are you?” you asked while they hugged you. The twins were the only other thing besides your precious witch that helped you endure Wanda’s ordeal. They were pretty good boys and they adored you and Agatha Agnes, they even called you “aunties” sometimes.

“We’re fine, you? How 's aunt Agnes?” Billy asked and you smiled. He had always bonded better with your girlfriend, while Tommy was totally yours. 

“She’s fine, thanks” you answered “what are you two doing here tho?” you asked and frowned a little. It was strange for them to be wandering around by themselves. 

“Mom and dad are arguing, again” Tommy said and shrugged. Your frown deepened. 

Wanda and Vision had been arguing a little too much lately. You knew it all started because of Agatha, who wanted Vision to be conscious so it could distract Wanda and let her be closer to her and her magic, but this, you were sure it wasn’t just Agatha. This was Wanda losing control of her own ilusion and it was hurting her sons.

“Well, my arms are getting tired, so why don’t you help me and we can make a cake with Agnes when we get home?” you asked jokingly and their faces lit up. You just had bread and milk on your arms, but that was enough for them. They just wanted an excuse to spend time with their aunties.

You chuckled when Tommy took the milk from you while Billy took the bread. Each one of them took one of your hands and the three of you walked home. Deep in your heart, you knew these kids weren’t even real, or at least, they were not supposed to be real, and when the time comes, you’ll be heartbroken to say goodbye. But for now, you’ll enjoy the time you had with them.

This thought made you think of Agatha. Did she feel like this too? She had been dealing for years with the knowledge that you will be gone someday. You always assured her that you still had time, but now that you were feeling some sadness at the thought of losing the twins, you weren’t so sure anymore. You really had to make sure your time with her would be worth it. 

You were still thinking about it when you heard an explosion and felt the twins freezing at your sides. When you looked up, you saw Vision flying away and a big red smoke coming your way from Wanda’s house. Your reaction was instinctive.

“Y/N!” you heard Billy screaming as you hugged them both, covering them with your body. 

You didn’t need any powers to feel their fear. The way Billy’s hand grabbed your shirt as a life saver and how Tommy hid his face on your chest, was enough. 

When the smoke hit you, you screamed. It felt as if all your body was burning.You couldn’t move, even when you wanted to run, so you just hugged the kids tighter. Suddenly, it all stopped.

You blinked and quickly looked at the twins, making sure they were fine. Something inside you, told you this was just the calm before the storm. 

“Run” you told them “Run to the park and hide, now!” You could feel they didn’t want to leave you, but they nodded and obeyed you anyway. You started running to your house, wanting to make sure Agatha was fine. The house was literally next to Wanda’s house, after all.

You barely made it to the front door when another wave of red hit you and you fell to your knees, screaming. This time it was so much worse. You could feel Wanda’s burning rage and desperation. She was trying to keep everything in control, but was quickly losing it because her husband wouldn’t obey her anymore and her grief was giant. 

This is an accident. She will stop soon. You tried to calm yourself, but the pain was too much for you to handle. 

Wanda went outside her house just to see you crying on the floor, red strings around you, like chains. She gasped and tried to help, but her magic didn’t respond. She wasn’t in control anymore.

“Y/N!” You heard Agatha’s voice from somewhere near you. 

She sounded desperate and angry. You have heard that tone just once before, and it didn’t end well for the men that had hurt you. You knew she was about to unleash hell, and the last thought you had before passing out, looking at Wanda, was Run. Run, Witch, run.

[callivich]

I love the idea of time travel and I just couldn’t get this idea out of my head, so here’s a little time travel story! Reworked this so it’s slightly different and longer! Planning on a part two soon.....

———

Ian had been standing in the kitchen of his and Mickey’s new apartment. He had been about to make some coffee and take it to his husband who was still sleeping. Everything had been normal and fine - he’d been idly thinking about what they were going to do that day. It was Saturday and Mickey had, the night before, demanded not to be woken early, but other than that, they had no plans. Maybe a dip in the pool? It was sunny, but not too warm, which was good because the slightly cool weather meant less people in the pool.

And, just as he was imagining swimming lazily in an empty pool with his husband, it seemed like he blinked and the whole world had shifted sharply. He felt dizzy and his vision swam, his body felt weak and he collapsed against a nearby wall, trying to catch his breath. It was like no feeling he’d ever experienced.

Blinking furiously, he noticed something alarming - he was not leaning against his kitchen wall, he was somewhere else. Somewhere he never thought he’d ever go again. Somewhere it was impossible to go again, but he recognised it immediately. The Milkovich house. He glanced around at his surroundings, struggling to understand how he could be standing outside Mickey’s old bedroom. What the fuck?? Was he dreaming? Or, worse, hallucinating? If he was dreaming or hallucinating, it was the most realistic thing he had ever experienced, there was nothing dreamlike about it. Everything looked exactly the same as he remembered - the signs on Mickey’s door, the dirt covered carpet, the dimly lit hallway - it even smelled the same - that stale mixture of smoke, beer and sweat.

It was too much - this situation he found himself in, it couldn’t be real, and yet, apparently it was. He felt a sharp burst of panic, his chest felt tight, and he reflexively clenched his hands, trying to calm himself. It was then he realised he was holding something. It was heavy and solid in his hand, and as he stared at it, it took him a few seconds to understand what he was seeing - it was a tire iron. And then everything began to click into place - he noted his worn, hand-me-down clothes and when he reached up to feel his hair with his free hand, his fingers found bangs. An overwhelming feeling of familiarity washed over him, he remembered these clothes, he remembered holding the tire iron and he remembered why he was holding the tire iron. Most importantly, he remembered this day. It was the day that everything changed between him and Mickey - the stolen gun, the fight, the sex - and he was in his teenage body. Shit.

Ian didn’t know what to do. This was impossible. There was simply no way it was possible. And yet, here he stood, years in the past. His mind began to race with possibilities - should he leave? and go where? back to the Gallagher house? or should he stay here and wait to see what happens? would anything happen? would he blink and be back in his kitchen? or was he stuck here in the past forever? He wanted to go home, to his apartment with Mickey, he wanted his husband. Mickey. A thought occurred to him - maybe Mickey, his Mickey, was here too? Not that would automatically fix everything, but at least Ian wouldn’t be alone. He stared at the door, he needed to know either way - either Mickey was also, somehow, here in the past, and they could figure this out together, or he was about to run into angry, teenage Mickey, who perhaps didn’t hate Ian as much as Ian had assumed at the time, but was definitely not his friend.

He paused outside the door, and as he took a deep breath, his hand tightened on the tire iron - unsure if he should just leave it on the floor. He definitely wasn’t going to hit Mickey with it, but if it was teenage Mickey in there, then Ian hoped the sight of the tire iron would stop Mickey from hitting him. Ian pushed open the door, and softly shut it behind him with a click. There was Mickey, laid out on the bed, face down, asleep, just as Ian remembered. It was bizarre seeing this again, at the time he had no idea how this day would change his life, but here it was - the moment that their lives began to become entwined.

This wasn’t the time to reminisce though. Ian gently, much more gently than he had done so originally, poked Mickey in the back with the end of the tire iron. Perhaps too gently, because Mickey didn’t move. This was promising - teenage Mickey was a light sleeper, but in the safety of their apartment, adult Mickey had began to sleep heavily, and Ian hoped that the fact Mickey didn’t move immediately meant that this was his husband.

“Mickey. Wake up.” Ian moved closer to the bed, and tapped him on the back with his free hand.

That did it, there was an annoyed groan, and Mickey turned his head, so Ian could now see his dirt-smudged face, but didn’t open his eyes, only muttering a tired, “No.” This was different to what had happened before, but Ian still wasn’t sure if this was his Mickey or teenage Mickey.

“Wake up.” Ian tried again, this time giving his shoulder a shake.

“Fucks sake, Ian, it’s the weekend....I wanna sleep in.” Mickey mumbled, sleepily. Still, he didn’t open his eyes, just reached out a hand, and when he didn’t feel anything but an empty space, he continued, “Come back to bed.”

It seemed like Mickey thought Ian should be in bed with him, and relief flooded through Ian. This was his Mickey! Now he just needed to actually wake the fuck up.

Feeling more confident, he sat down on the bed next to Mickey, dropped the tire iron on the floor, and ran a hand down his back. “Mick. Open your eyes. But don’t freak out.”

“What am I gonna freak -” And then he was speechless. His eyes were finally open and he looked at Ian in shock. “What the fuck?”

“I know.”

Mickey’s eyes darted around the room, back to Ian, down at himself, and then settled on Ian. He reached a hand out to touch Ian’s face softly, running his fingers over the freckles. “Fuck. What’s going on? How...”

“I don’t know?! I was in the kitchen, I was going to make coffee, and then suddenly I was here and shit, I thought I was dreaming, or hallucinating, but this is all so real. So it must be real?” The words tumbled out and Ian was so glad that he wasn’t going to have to deal with this alone.

“I don’t....the last thing I remember was going to bed with you.” Mickey sat up, and swung his legs around to sit close to Ian. “This is fucked up. It’s fucking impossible.” He ran a hand down his face, before turning to stare at Ian again in disbelief. And Ian couldn’t help but do the same back - he still couldn’t believe his eyes.

“What are we going to do?” Ian broke the silence, they couldn’t sit here staring at each other all day.

“Shit. I don’t fucking know.” Mickey frowned for a moment, as if considering something and then pinched Ian on the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“In case it’s a dream.”

“You’re supposed to pinch yourself.” Ian grumbled, as he pinched Mickey on the arm. “There. Feel real?”

“Hardly felt that, but yeah.” He looked around his room. “So, I guess we’re in the past. That means -”

Mickey didn’t have time to finish his sentence because the door opened and a ghost entered. Or rather, not a ghost, someone who was very much alive. Terry. Mickey instantly tensed up, his hands balling into fists. Terry made his way into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Ian didn’t think, he just pulled Mickey close, hugging him tight.

“Fuck. Shit.” Mickey let out a shuddering breath. “Ian, we can’t.” He moved away reluctantly. Ian felt his heart clench but nodded, shifting away to the end of the bed. Of course they couldn’t hug, not here, not now. Fuck. Ian wanted to punch the wall. Mickey pinched the bridge of his nose, “I can’t fucking be here, man.” He jumped up and threw on some more clothes and some shoes.

Terry stumbled back out of the bathroom, and Mickey froze, his eyes wide, still unbelieving of what he was seeing. He kept staring at the door after Terry left. It was surreal seeing Terry alive, walking around like normal. And if Ian thought it was surreal, he couldn’t imagine what Mickey was thinking. Or rather, he probably could guess. His mind drifted to thoughts of Monica - she was alive here, what would it be like to see her again? Would he felt strange? Horrified? Upset? And Frank....shit, Frank had only just died, but right now, he was alive.

He pushed the thoughts away, they needed to leave. This was all too confusing. Mickey had only just finally come to terms with Terry’s death and this....this fucked up situation was only going to cause him pain. And Ian was still going through some pretty strange and surprisingly upsetting emotions about Frank’s death, it was all still so raw. Neither of them needed to be confronted by their dead fathers (did anyone ever?), especially not so close to said fathers deaths. The room felt too small, too hot, Ian knew they needed to leave. It was impossible to think here.

“Let’s get out of here.” Ian tugged on Mickey’s hand, squeezing it gently, before dropping it.

“Where?” Mickey questioned, shrugging on a coat.

“One of the abandoned buildings? At least then we know we’ll be alone. And we can try and figure out what we’re going to do.”

Mickey gave a whispered “yeah” and flung open his bedroom door, hurrying towards the front of the house, causing Ian to jog behind him to catch up. He was about to reach him when Mandy appeared. Ian’s stomach did a pleasant flip when he saw her - he’d missed her so much and here she was, looking exactly the same as he remembered. He fought the urge to hug her tightly.

“Ian? Are you ok?” Her eyes searched his face curiously, like she could tell something was wrong. But that was stupid, Ian thought, even if she could, she would never guess it was that Ian and Mickey had somehow time travelled from the present back to the future.

“Uh...yeah. I just...” He couldn’t help it - he glanced at Mickey who had paused by the front door, looking over his shoulder at Ian. “I gotta go home.”

“Ok. But-”

“Everything’s fine, Mandy. I’ll see ya.��� He could hear the tremble in his voice and he could tell from the slight frown on her face that she was concerned. She looked back and forth between Ian and Mickey, her eyes narrowing and noticing Mickey’s hand on the door. “Where are you going, shithead?”

“Out.” And with that, Mickey practically flung himself through the doorway and made his way onto the sidewalk. Ian waved a hand in Mandy’s direction, wishing he could explain to her but knowing he couldn’t, and headed out, shutting the door behind him. He felt guilty brushing her off, but Mickey was his priority.

“Mick.” He called out as he caught up. He bumped his shoulder against Mickey’s and they began to make their way to one of the more isolated abandoned buildings, both knowing which one they should go to. They walked in silence, both of them struggling to make sense of where, and when, they found themselves. So, it was no surprise that neither of them noticed the figure that followed them.

——

Ian watched Mickey as he climbed the old, battered stairs in front of him, he could see the heavy tension in his shoulders. It was familiar but not something he had seen in awhile. Mickey was relaxed and happy, most of the time, they were finally settling into the West Side and things were good - safe and stable - and their days were filled with kisses and laughter, they just were enjoying being together. But, now, they had been thrown backwards to a time when things were dangerous and unstable and complicated.

There was a splintered door, which Mickey kicked open with his foot. He sighed heavily and Ian grasped his hand, leading him towards one of the walls. They sunk down onto the floor, backs against the cold brick. Ian moved to cuddle Mickey close, but it was awkward. He was used to being able to hold Mickey easily, but here, now, as they were a similar height, it was different. He had never had the luxury of being able to hug or be close to Mickey like this back then, so he wasn’t used to trying to hold him like this. Eventually, with some fumbling, they managed to find a good angle. Mickey slumped down a bit, and Ian put his arm around Mickey’s shoulders, they were pressed close, and Mickey threw one leg over Ian’s, and rested his head close to Ian’s neck.

“This isn’t fucking fair.” Mickey whispered. “What the fuck is this shit and why is it happening to us?”

“I’m scared.” Ian replied, using his free hand to grab one of Mickey’s. “What if we’re stuck here?”

“Your meds.” Mickey squeezed Ian’s hand. “What are we going to do about your meds?”

“I don’t....” Ian faltered. He hadn’t even considered that. What was he going to do? He hadn’t been diagnosed back then, now, so what did that mean in terms of his illness? The fear that had been bubbling under the surface suddenly began to overflow. What the fuck was he going to do? “I don’t know. Shit. Mick. I don’t-”

“We’ll figure it out.” Mickey put his free hand on top of his and Ian’s clasped ones. Ian wanted to believe Mickey but he didn’t feel convinced, and as confident as Mickey sounded, Ian could hear the worry.

“Ok. Yeah. We’ll figure it out. But, what are we going to do, like right now? We can’t stay here tonight.”

“I can’t go back there. I can’t see-”

“I know. I know. We’ll stay at my house.” Ian cut him off before he could say his father’s name. It felt strange saying that - my house - because it wasn’t, not anymore. His house, his home, was the apartment he shared with Mickey.

“And how the fuck do we explain that? And what about Frank? You gonna be able to deal with seeing him again?”

“Don’t care.” He heard Mickey snort. “I don’t care Mick, you’re my fucking husband, and I love you and we need to-”

“Holy fucking shit! What the hell is this?” A shocked voice cut through the air, startling both of them.

Ian and Mickey jerked their heads up at the same time to see Mandy standing in the doorway, a look of complete and utter disbelief on her face. They had been so wrapped up in their problem, that they hadn’t noticed her following them or heard her making her way up the steps of the building. They slowly disentangled from each other in a way that Ian noted would not have happened in their teenage years. Mickey would have shoved Ian off back then, but now, he was so used to not hiding or feeling afraid that he didn’t. As much as Ian would like to focus on the growth Mickey was showing, he knew he couldn’t. Because right now, the stakes were too high.

Ian’s heart pounded, he knew they needed to say something. He could trust Mandy. He had done so before. But fuck, there was so much more he knew in hindsight. So many more terrible, violent things that he knew he could not let any of them go through again.

Which is why he blurted out the first thing he thought of, “It’s cold. We were cold, so we were just warming up.”

Ian didn’t need to look at Mickey to know he was probably rolling his eyes.

“Cold?” Mandy folded her arms and leaned against the wall. “Thank fuck I’m not a cop Ian because you would not last-”

“What the fuck are you doing here? You follow us?” Mickey interrupted. “Go away.”

“No. Not until you tell me what’s going on.” Mandy pushed off the wall and walked to towards them. “Ian, what’s going on? I thought you and Kash-”

“Fuck him.”

“Shut up, Mickey. I’m talking to Ian.”

“Mandy, please. This isn’t what it.....can you just forget you came here? Please? And please don’t say anything. To anyone.” Ian pleaded. He needed her to go. He loved her, and he loved seeing her again, but fuck, this was not the time. He couldn’t think with her here. All he kept thinking of was when Terry found him and Mickey - that horrible morning that always made his stomach churn when he thought about it. He didn’t think Mandy would tell. But in that moment it felt like it was too much - someone else knowing - he just couldn’t handle it right now. He just wanted to be with Mickey. “I’m begging you, Mandy. Please.”

Mandy bit her lip, in the same way Ian had seen Mickey do a thousand times. She looked back and forth between them, uneasy and suspicious, Ian realised he had tears in his eyes and he could see the exact moment Mandy noticed. “Fine. But you owe me an explanation Ian. And so do you Mickey.”

“Yes.” Ian breathed in relief. And he watched her turn on her heel and leave. They stood in silence until they were sure she was gone.

“So, what now?” Mickey pulled Ian close, his arms winding around his waist.

“Maybe if we fall asleep, we’ll wake up back home?” Ian hoped more than anything that would be true.

“Thought you were awake when you came here. Back? Now? Whatever.”

“I was but....who the fuck knows right? It’s worth a try.”

“Yeah. Maybe. But we can’t sleep here.”

[blitzturtles]

Title: Two-Player

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Stardust Crusaders

Pairing(s): JotaKak, JoKa, Minor (and Platonic) Kakyoin & kid!Jolyne

Summary: There are days when Jotaro’s body remembers every single injury that it's ever received. Days when he aches from his toes to the top of his skull, and days when his nerves light themselves on fire. Medication won’t touch it, and the pain is either too grating or too unpredictable for him to ignore for any length of time.

He tries to break it down into pieces. To compartmentalize it all away the way he does with the memories.

Notes: I was having a chronic pain flare, asked my wife who I should inflict it on, and her answer was, "Jotaro and/or Dick Grayson". So here's the Jotaro version. Btw, I'm doing a writing / fic giveaway! Check out this post to see how to enter. Goes until 8.25.21!

-

There are days when Jotaro’s body remembers every single injury that it's ever received. Days when he aches from his toes to the top of his skull, and days when his nerves light themselves on fire. Medication won’t touch it, and the pain is either too grating or too unpredictable for him to ignore for any length of time.

He tries to break it down into pieces. To compartmentalize it all away the way he does with the memories. It’s all he can do in moments like these, when he’s hunched forward and breathing too heavy. Biting at his lip in a desperate attempt to keep from making a sound, lest Kakyoin or Jolyne choose that exact moment to barge in.

There’s the throbbing in his ankles and knees; both of which twinge with an excruciatingly sharp agony whenever he tries to stand from his desk. If he falters in the slightest, he’ll have his hips to contend with, and they’ll bring him to his knees for daring to exist. Best to stay put until he can no longer take the stillness that builds in the damaged joints, not that walking seems to alleviate the radiating pounding that blossoms in each joint and spreads endlessly outward. The more he thinks about it, the wider the radius grows, the harder it is to control his breathing.

Speaking of, his ribs burn from inflammation, and every breath is like inhaling fire, deeper and deeper until he’s choking on the exhale. The coughing that follows makes his guts twist up. Knotting around an invisible blade and splitting apart until he smells more than tastes the scent of blood and bile rising in the back of his throat.

The pain running through his nerves is a mixture of fire blight and an intense, piercing sensation that he’s yet to fully find the words for. There’s a reverberating ache to each stab. A constant and endless reminder that makes it impossible for him to sooth with the fingers he digs into the meat of his arms and legs. He can only stand to do that for so long, anyway. His wrists cramp after a few seconds. Already fatigued from writing. Working always makes the tendons tighten until they feel like they’re going to snap.

For whatever reason, his head feels the need to join in on the fun. Possibly because he’s already tense everywhere else. Possibly because it’s just that kind of day. Either way, he can’t ignore the ache there anymore than he can anywhere else, and it’s significantly slowed down his progress for the day. He’s done little more than stare at the papers on his desk with a blank expression for what must be hours now. The words blur together so badly that the ink almost disappears from his vision, which is a welcomed relief to the burning of his eyes.

He’s so overwhelmed by it all that he doesn’t hear Kakyoin. Kakyoin who he doesn’t ever tell, because Jotaro would rather grit his teeth and force his way through the day than tell his husband, of all people, that he hurts. As if Kakyoin doesn’t know a truer, more hellish agony in his every waking moment.

“Jotaro?”

His own name being called is what finally breaks him out of his pity party, and the look on Kakyoin’s face tells Jotaro that it’s been said more than once. There’s worry etched in the crease of Kakyoin’s forehead and in the way his lips are turned downward. Kakyoin would be crouched at eye level with him if he could, but his own body is hardly partial to that sort of movement.

“Sorry, what did you say?” Jotaro grits the words out and resists the urge to wince at the sound of his own voice. He doesn’t think he’s spoken at all today, but it still somehow sounds like he’s been chewing on glass.

Kakyoin’s frown deepens, “Jolyne was asking about- actually, it’s not that important. Are you alright?” He knows the answer already, but Kakyoin is nothing if not calculating. He wants to hear Jotaro speak. Wants to hear his reply. He’s trying to gauge how bad the situation is without expecting a proper, direct answer. He knows Jotaro too well for the man to be able to lie.

“Been better,” Jotaro admits, and he knows it’s an admission of just how poorly he feels. For him to fail to write Kakyoin off means that he’s struggling beyond what he can handle.

“I see,” Kakyoin says the words tightly. He seems to roll a thought over in his mind before sighing. “I think that you should lie down for a bit. I’ll get some painkillers. When’s the last time you had any?”

“I-” Jotaro mirrors the frown on Kakyoin’s face as he glances at the clock. Too long, he doesn’t say, but he doesn’t have to.

“Chasing pain won’t get you anywhere,” Kakyoin says, but his tone is far from patronizing. He speaks from experience. It’s better to try to stay in front of the brunt of their agony. They don’t stand much of a chance otherwise, not that Jotaro thought he’d had one since the moment he woke up that morning.

“Jolyne-” He starts, as a last ditch effort to get out of being mothered by his own husband, but he’s not surprised when Kakyoin shrugs him off.

“I’ll take care of Jolyne.” Kakyoin pauses, “And I can draw you a bath, if you’d like. The heat might help.” He would know, given his own chronic pain. He can’t take hot baths, given the sensitive nature of the reconstructed bits that make up his midsection, but he regularly soaks individual limbs when nothing else is working.

“I- yeah, okay,” Jotaro has to admit that the idea sounds nice. Maybe submerging the deep aches will help sooth them away, if only a little bit. Perhaps enough to make lying down more bearable, because that’s his problem with the idea of getting into bed: it’s going to hurt. He’ll hurt here or there, which is why he continues to insist on sitting at his desk on days like this. What’s the point in wasting time if he’s going to be miserable no matter where he is, or what he does? He might as well at least try to be productive.

“Good,” Kakyoin smiles gently, “Give me about five minutes before you come up? I’ll get that started and take care of Jolyne.”

“Sounds like a deal,” it doesn’t, actually. Kakyoin’s getting the short end of the stick all the way around. What with having to take care of Jotaro and Jolyne while dealing with his own pain.

“And quit that,” Kakyoin grumbles. He pokes Jotaro between the eyes, right on the bridge of his nose. “I married you, Jotaro. I don’t mind taking care of you or Jolyne, and I'm not inept for being a borderline cyborg.”

“I know,” Jotaro says with a sigh, “I don’t- I didn’t mean-” He hadn’t said anything, but that’s the problem with Kakyoin: he’s intuitive in a way that no one else Jotaro knows has ever been, and he can practically read Jotaro’s mind when he chooses.

“I know,” Kakyoin echoes, cutting Jotaro off before he can dig himself any deeper. His smile returns, and he leans down enough to press a kiss to the top of Jotaro’s forehead, only a short distance above where he had touched Jotaro a moment before. “Sometimes I just think you need a reminder. We’re equal, and you can have chronic pain, too.”

“Sounds fake,” Jotaro mumbles, but there’s a faint, upward pull of his lips that has Kakyoin barking out a laugh.

“Sure it does. Five minutes, JoJo.”

“Five minutes,” Jotaro repeats, already planning on it taking about that long just to get himself to the door to his study. His joints are already threatening to drop him if he so much as thinks about moving too quickly.

He watches Kakyoin go with fond eyes, and it takes approximately sixty seconds before he realizes that there had been a moment of relief. Where his brain had been too busy to be solely wrapped in his own suffering. Perhaps he’ll suggest that they all turn in early. There’s a new Disney movie that Jolyne’s been dying to see, and he knows she won’t mind being still too terribly if she gets to have the two of them in one room, sans work.

[janekfan]

Tim shouldn’t be here.

He couldn’t make himself leave.

Tim should’ve told Sasha.

She wouldn’t be out of work for hours yet.

At the very least, Tim should’ve called ahead.

Jon had no idea who was standing on the other side of the door. It was apparent in the way his eyes widened. In the way his breath hitched in his chest like a skipping cassette, in how his fingers tightened on the scuffed up brass knob. In the tentative way he caught his lower lip between his teeth before his tongue darted out between them in preparation to speak.

“Tim.” Surprised, glancing to either side of him before staring at his eyebrow. Close enough. “No Sasha tonight?” Gentle inquiry as he stepped aside to let him in.

“Jon?” Martin was somewhere else in their little flat. “Who was that at the door, love?”

“Tim stopped by for a visit, habibi.”

Unannounced?

Tim could hear Martin’s unspoken question. This wasn’t what they’d agreed on when they first found out they were all alive, that they’d made it through everything after all and realized that Tim brought his old grudges along with him. It didn’t matter that he didn’t want to feel that way, not when he so clearly still did. It didn’t matter that the lingering worry and doubt and fear in Jon’s eyes made him sick to his stomach because he’d put it there.

“I’ll put the kettle on.” As he settled on the lumpy couch, Tim heard Jon click on the hob and then begin rummaging around in the cupboards.

“Hayati, where’s that jar of orange blossom…?” Tim smiled privately at the domesticity. He doubted any of them expected to have that. He certainly hadn’t. There was no answer in return but Jon’s phone pinged with a notification and a muffled burst of laughter followed. He came out shortly with a tray. “Martin’s putting our Emma down. He threatened bodily harm if I interrupted them now.” While he spoke, Jon busied himself setting out cream and sugar, pouring the tea, nervously rearranging biscuits already arranged on a chipped china plate painted delicately with roses. He recognized it as part of a set belonging to Jon’s late grandmother. When Tim went to reach for the cup offered up by a shaky hand, Jon flinched, spilling the hot liquid over his skin with a sharp hiss.

“Hey--!” Tim’s hands shot out, reacting too quickly, and this time Jon lost the entire cup over the both of them with an aborted yelp. “Damnit, Jon, stop!”

“S’sorry.” Jon mopped up the liquid, posture small and tight and stiff. “Please don’t um, uh reach for me like that.”

“Like what?” Annoyed, scrubbing a hand over the stain spreading across his shirt, Tim tried to stay calm. After all they’d gone through, none of them had escaped unscathed.

“So er, f’fast.”

“Why?”

“I don’t. It makes me--please don’t, Tim.” The tea towel was gripped in both hands, held close, even as he faced him. “It should be. I should be able to just a’ask.”

“I was trying to help.” This was ridiculous.

“And I appreciate it but--” had he ever?

“It really doesn’t seem like you do.” Tim needed Sasha here with her level head and grounding touch.

“I’m trying to ask you to--” He didn’t mean to interrupt. Really. But how were they supposed to move forward in this if Jon was so visibly afraid? He didn’t need to be afraid. He could trust him. He just refused to at every turn!

“I don’t see why you have to make this such a big deal everytime!” Tim shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be doing this. He definitely shouldn’t be yelling at Jon for something he had no control over, for asking him to just be.

Just be gentle with him for once.

The ire and anger in him rose, a clawing riptide, one he recognized from before the Unknowing. Cloying in its familiarity and power over him and he moved through it like he was stuck in honey, desperate for an escape, to not drown in it even as it closed over his head and his mouth flooded with salt and erupted in vitriol.

“I don’t see why you can’t get over it!”

“Tim!!” Martin’s roar broke him out of those rank jaws and snapped him back into reality. “Back. Off. Now.”

Martin stood in the doorway, a sleepy, clingy baby in his arms looking seconds from bursting into tears while her father looked seconds away from throwing him bodily out of the flat. Emma began to wail. Martin refused to look away from Tim.

Tim.

Who was standing over Jon, towering above his trembling body curled small and pressed into the cushions, tear-stained face shielded by arms drawn with a roadmap of scars Tim both knew and didn’t, that matched and told stories he’d yet to hear. His own chest was heaving like a bellows, hot, heavy, and he unclenched fists so tight his fingers ached, stepping back, stepping away. Only then did Martin stride forward, placing himself as a bulwark between the pair of them, taking up the whole of Jon’s vision and whispering sweet things, reassuring things.

"Hayati, I need you to hold Emma for a moment. Can you do that for me?" Mechanically, Jon accepted their daughter into his hold, angling away from Tim--and didn’t that sting? And didn’t he deserve it. Martin waited to be sure he had her, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek even as Jon paid him no mind, lost in bouncing their daughter a little to soothe them both. Firmly, Martin grabbed Tim by the arm and tugged him into a tidy kitchen.

“Martin, I--”

“The hell is wrong with you?” Voice kept to a sharp whisper, Martin kept looking past him into the sitting room; keeping a close eye on Jon no doubt who was beginning to babble at Emma, words pitched high and sweet, if a bit quivery. “Yelling like that, we don’t yell in this home. You know that. You know that and you came here anyway and maligned my husband and you don’t know the half of what he’s been through, so don’t come here with your guilt and anger and take it out on my family.” This was a Martin that Tim had never met, almost unrecognizable from those first few weeks they’d all spent together in the Archives. When everything was new. Before any of this happened. Before everything changed.

“I’m. I, I’m sorry, Martin. I’ll go. I’ll.” Tears, stinging, bright, prickled at the corners of his lids. “You’re right. I’m out of line. I don’t know--why did I come here? I’m sorry. I’m, I’m really sorry.”

“I’m not the one who needs to hear that.”

“I know. I. I should go.” He should never come back.

“This is why we came up with these steps together, all of us.” Martin handed him a handkerchief and Tim realized belatedly that his face was wet. “We heal on our own time, and it’s going to take time. But you have to respect Jon’s boundaries. He deserves to keep himself safe. He deserves friends who want to protect him, even from themselves.”

“Yeah.” His next breath got stuck, caught in the too-small cage of his ribs. Jon must’ve felt this way. When he shouted. Stood over him like that. “I wasn’t. Wasn’t. I’m not ready. I thought I could be.”

“Rushing this is going to hurt Jon and I’m sorry, Tim. I’m not going to let you do that.”

Not again.

It went unsaid and yet somehow hung heavy between them.

“I’ll tell Sash. I’ll. Come clean and she’ll chew me out and I won’t do this again, Martin. I promise.” Having them back was the greatest gift he’d ever been given. Why did he want to sabotage it? Question for therapy next week. Probably a good one.

“No, you won’t.”

I won’t allow it.

“T’Tim?” Tentative, behind him at a measured distance. Jon, cuddling a sleeping Emma close. “Are you alright?”

“No.” Tim laughed, choked on the sob rising in his throat. “But I’m working on it.” Jon offered him an understanding smile.

“We are too.”

“Yeah.” Tim swiped at damp lashes. “I’m sorry, Jon. I’m going to be better. I want to be better.”

“Okay.” Simple as that. Despite all their wretched history. Sash’s ringtone began to play and Tim found it hard to be angry at Martin. He didn’t want to go home on his own.

“Okay.”

[monst]

Warnings again: Graphic descriptions of murder, Dubcon, Incest, Pre-meditated murder, Gore

Inspired by: Halloween, Micheal Myers and this post -> Here (The little brother bit of it) 

This story can be read either entirely or you can skip, the middle background, you won’t really be missing the juicy bits since it just describes the early stages of his...infatuation 

7k

Enjoy!

Silence reigned over the living room save for the desperate wheezes of the dual toned man’s hair. The air hissed as it slipped into his greedy mouth, the heavy sound of his pants were followed by the almost painful expansion of his lungs. He wiped a gloved hand over his brow collecting the droplets that had accumulated throughout the ordeal. 

His stormy eyes looked down at his hand, he saw his soiled reflection on the metallic steel. His pupils danced in dilation, his nostrils still flared. His blood was hot, scorching his veins as with every pound of  his heart. He let the blade fall to the stained rug, fingers trembling with nerves? Adrenalin? Excitement? 

It started with the curving of his lips, then a breathless chuckle until he was keeling over with laughter, tears in his eyes as his foot connected with the soft tissue of the body. He repeated the action kicking the belly of his victim, further soiling his shoes. The beige rug was stained a nauseating maroon, said color also decorated the sofa and he could feel the once warm liquid cool on his face. 

A mess of blood and viscera was left in the place where the man had once cowered. He leered over the man’s body, a grin stretching his pale pink lips. His tongue swept over his lips as he leaned down to the man’s ear to whisper secretively. 

“I’ve been wanting to do this to you the moment I set my eyes on you.” He chirped. “You’ve never deserved her” his fingers slid over the shredded skin of the man’s face as he plucked the crimson stained mask off his face. He stood up and slid the bloodied scream mask over his face, his menacing form illuminated by the colorful strobe lights that still circled the room. He turned towards the staircase of the house, It was time to pay you a visit and give you the good news. 

His heavy footfalls creaked the stairs as he made his way up closer to you, his stomach fluttered with emotion and his elation twitched beneath his trousers. ‘Finally’ He thought as the door to your room whined open. ‘Finally’

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Now you may be wondering how it all came to this. How such an unassuming man could take someone’s life in such a cruel and violent way. To explain that, we need to go back, back in time to the exact moment in which warmth seeped into the man’s heart. The moment in which he decided that he’d do absolutely anything for his older sister.. And that happened when he was a boy and it was all because of the touch of a hand… 

(Backstory is optional, you can easily skip ahead towards the morning of the event)

There was a clear disinterest in the young child’s eyes as his eyes observed the glossy casket. He could hear the whispers of the surrounding guests. The susurrations of ‘what’s going to happen to the children’ ‘The young one doesn’t seem to care about what happened.’ ‘Shush it’s not like he understands what’s going on’ There were more whispers being dropped than there were tears but Shouto disagreed, he understood very well. He just couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

His eldest sister Fuyumi bawled enough for the rest of the Todoroki siblings. Call him cynical but Shouto didn’t understand why he should cry, why he didn’t give a rats ass that the old man had kicked the can. He supposed he should care about the casket next to his father’s embalmed corpse but he wasn’t exactly close to his snowy haired brother.  In simple terms he wasn’t moved by the theatrics and wanted nothing more than to go home. A home without Enji Todoroki, he wondered what life would be like now that his father was dead. Easier? He pondered on all the freedom he’d finally have…..

Shouto truly didn’t understand… He loathed that vile man and yet his eyes were wet with tears, his small nose stuffing as he sniffled. He had balled his small fists, clutching the dark cloth of his dress shorts, his eldest sister Fuyumi had her face buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking. She couldn’t console herself, not to mention her yonder siblings. It was at that moment that he realized how alone he was, Fuyumi seemed leagues away, so out of reach. 

His older brother was furthest away the veil of death separating whatever comfort he may have received from the teen. A cold chill filled his small frame until something came and banished it. Your fingers interlocked with his as you drew him close, he glued himself to the warmth you provided, his body shaking as you hugged him whispering consolations. 

“I-It’s going to be okay Sho.” You sniffled. “W-we still have each other.”

Shouto clung to you ever since, you were two years his senior, his beloved older sister who was always there for him. Sure he had Fuyumi but she wasn’t you, she was someone he had a familial tie to, someone who provided for the both of you, to him Fuyumi was just the guardian. She wasn’t special to him like you were, there wasn’t that connection, there wasn’t that bond. And sadly it never developed as Fuyumi had to leave the both of you for  long lengths of time.

You however adored Fuyumi, you were grateful for her sacrifice of becoming something

akin to a parent towards you and Shouto. In your younger years you scurried about to help her with whatever you could and more often than naught it was watching Shouto while she worked. Your little brother was an oddball, he had a habit of following you around and refused to make friends so as not to leave you. Despite countless arguments of it not being an issue he held fast and you relented and allowed him to shadow you freely. 

In all honesty the signs were all there, the youngest Todoroki would become hysterical when he didn’t know of your whereabouts, he was frustratingly clingy and hostile towards all of your friends. You had lost many friends due to your younger brother’s jaws of doom. No one wanted to play with you when your brother laid in wait like a piranha. This led to further skirmishes but Fuyumi wasn’t adept at dealing with such issues and reassured you that it was just a phase.  So you sucked it up, you didn’t want to worry Fuyumi and add to her stress. ‘It’s probably not easy for her to raise us, especially since she’s younger herself.’ 

And so life went on, your brother’s clinginess never waned but it was diminished when he finally entered highschool. Regardless of him wanting it or not people began to gravitate towards him. To him it was the most annoying thing in the universe. He hated playing nice with his schoolmate, what was even the point? He didn’t care for them, he didn’t love them, they served no purpose and only helped in separating him from you. But he played nice. He played nice for your sake, he was your dear sweet little brother after all and he wouldn’t allow those nuisances to taint your vision of him. 

Everything was going swell, Fuyumi was prosering and getting more and more busy. To his delight she’d leave for days on end on business trips as well. His days would start with him greeting you in the morning and you blessing his cheek with an innocent ‘good morning’ kiss. You’d walk to school, sometimes you’d blow off your friends to eat lunch with him, it always made him feel special, and then you’d walk home. He always loved it when Fuyumi was gone and the both of you were alone. It was almost like the two of you were husband and wife. The thought never failed at leaving him breathless. 

It wasn’t weird. He had rationalized that it was only natural to marry the one you loved. Besides you had agreed to it when you were younger. However, not everyone was accepting of the loving relationship he had with you. 

.

.

.

“Ew you call your little brother baby?” He had overheard the conversation on his way to your class. 

“So? He’s my baby brother so I call him baby, it’s not a big deal.” You shrugged. 

“It is kinda icky (Name).” The voice that had said it was deep and masculine and he didn’t like how his words made you pause. You should have fought against it, you should have told them to fuck off. 

“O-oh…” You mumbled. “I g-guess he is a bit grown.” He had made his presence known after that, his haughty eyes lacerating your classmate. The smug teen had an arm looped around your shoulder and from the look on your face you weren’t opposed to it. 

That was a turning point in your relationship. To his dismay you began to date that...guy. That fucker drove a wedge between you. You changed because of him, and he hated it. He despised it so so very much. The day he realized that your boyfriend had to be done away with was when he came home one afternoon, you had insisted he join an extracurricular activity and that had put an end to walking home with you. And so when he came home and he heard you, he ran to his room and peeled back the movie poster in his room, his blue eye widening in horror as that disgusting, vile, grotesque creature defiled you. 

The tree at the edge of the property took the brunt of his emotions that day. His fists were split as he abused the bark of the tree, his teeth grinded viciously. All of his fantasies of being your first were dashed, all those nights researching, all those nights observing your body from his peephole, in order to know what you liked “Wasted!” When he walked back in you were adjusting your clothes in the kitchen making the bastard a sandwich. 

“S-shouto!” You yelped. You no longer called him baby. You were startled until you took notice of his bruised knuckles. “Are you okay!?” You fretted, reaching out towards him. He flinched away from you, hurt. 

“Bah leave the kid alone and stop coddling him, it’s just a flesh wound.” The thing scoffed. 

“But it could get infected.” You mumbled. 

“Ughh shut up already, where’s my food?” He asked you… Yes, Shouto despised that man. In his mind he had gouged out his perverse eyes and peeled back his grimey skin. You had regressed into yourself ever since you had gotten together with that guy. He dedicated your every move, and to add fire to the ever growing flames he had the audacity to put his hands on you. 

“Leave him.” He hissed one day. 

“I...I can’t Sho..I love him.” Love? Love he had scoffed. That wasn’t love, god he’d show you what love actually was if you would only leave that man. ‘If only he just died.’ This thought gnawed at the back of his mind as years passed and you remained in such a toxic relationship. By now your...he refused to call him your lover, by now your abuser had died in his mind over a billion times. 

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Prior to the murder…   

(Backstory skippers, it begins here) 

It was one of those rare days when that nasty shadow wasn’t looming over you, the both of you were sipping coffee as Fuyumi explained that she would be going abroad. It wasn’t anything new as work for her got busiest during the fall. 

“H-He asked me to move out with him.” You smiled. 

“Absolutely not.” He scoffed.  

“I have to agree with our little brother on this one (Name).” You had blown up on them, screaming about them not understanding, until you were left sobbing in your chair. 

“H-He can change… I know he can.” Needless to say, he didn’t. As soon as he heard that Fuyumi was half-way across the globe he pressured you into throwing a party. Luckily for you Shouto didn’t have any classes to attend and was willing to help you arrange the hastily put together party. 

“I still can’t believe you're with him.” He mumbled as he arranged the red solo cups on the table. 

“Trust me Sho I’ve tried to end it but…” You looked away from the youngest Todoroki until you felt his hand slide into yours. 

“Remember, I’ve always got your back if you need me to fuck him up for him to leave you alone I’ll do it.” He smiled, his heart skipped when your arms wrapped around his neck. ‘Soon’ he thought, his arms tightening around your frame. 

“I really don’t deserve you Shouto thank you.” You sniffled. 

“It’s-

“The fuck are you two doing?” ‘Great’ Shouto rolled his eyes, pressing his lean body closer to yours. ‘It’s here’ “You sure your not tryna fuck your brother you little slut.” 

“Of course not.” You mumbled, your arms tightening around your younger brother’s frame, he felt your body tremble, fear and anger coursing through your veins. Ever so slowly you stepped out of the protective embrace of your brother. You didn’t notice how Shouto clenched his jaw when that man’s hand came down on your ass. You shifted away from him but his hand caught you by the crook of your elbow. “What? No kiss? Don’t tell me you're still mad about me cheating on you.” He scoffed. 

You looked away, a scowl on your lips. “C’mon babe how ‘bout I make it up to you?” He grinned. You weren’t interested instead you turned towards your brother. 

“Are you inviting anyone?” You asked. You caught yourself staring at your younger brother who now towered over you, his dark eyes narrowed at your boyfriend, strong arms crossed against his beefy chest. You made out the way his sharp jaw clenched and it had just struck you ‘He’s gotten so handsome.’ You looked away when you noticed how his eyes softened when he turned towards you. 

“Didya buy the booze I asked for?” The other man cut in. You nodded, grateful that Shouto had ran out and bought it for you while you hid all the valuables in the house. He dropped onto the couch unceremoniously and began to message his friends. 

“So are you?” You asked once more as the both of you continued to put certain breakable items away. 

“Maybe.” He shrugged, he wasn’t particularly interested in inviting the people who called him their friend. 

“You should invite that one girl that used to go to highschool with you.” You hummed. “I’m pretty sure she had a crush on you~”

“She did.” He sighed. “I just wasn’t interested, besides inviting her would only make things....awkward.”

“Your so picky Sho, most sophomores in college are out there partying, living life and ‘fucking bitches’” You teased. 

“Well I’m not like most men my age.”  The drop of his voice startled you, the hair on your arms raising at the slight raspy tone. You excused yourself to change. This wasn’t the first time Shouto’s acted rather...suspicious around you. In his twenty years of life he had always shown particular favor towards you sometimes with an intensity that sort of scared you. It was like he..had feelings for you. 

‘Ridiculous’ You chimed as you stripped out of your clothes. You had always reminded yourself that the thought was preposterous. ‘He’s still waiting for the right one, that’s why he’s never shown any interest in anyone.’ A small voice at the back of your head whispered a small doubt ‘except for me’. “Ludacris.” You huffed as you picked out what to wear and readied yourself, you chose a raunchy outfit, short sheer fabrics that tightened around your curves, heels that flattered the slopes of your calves and a pair of fluffy cat ears. Mittens were placed over your hands as you fastened the faux tail onto your waist. 

You painted whiskers on your cheeks, your lips a deep shade of ruby. You looked stunning and you were planning on using your appearance to get back at your loser boyfriend. A smirk fitted your face ‘That assholes’ going to regret cheating on me’ 

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.

.

Shouto shuffled over to a corner as strangers began to arrive at the family home. He noticed a couple of people from his major slither in but made no move to greet them. After all there was no need. The music was loud in his ears and the stench of sweat hung in the air like an off brand diffuser. It wasn’t long before the house became a clutter of bodies, they donned glitter and masks as they grinded against each other. 

Plumes of smoke blurred the ceiling as people gathered around a bong one of his ‘friends’ had brought in. The breath of the people who came up to flirt with him was thick with the scent of booze. His vacant eyes scanned the crowd, various people dressed as sexy nurses, nuns, devils etc. There were some good ones, special effects decorated a realistic zombie, but not even the walking dead cosplayer could salvage the party. To him it was a miserable event, a violation of his and your sanctuary. All he could think of was how he wished he could recreate the sense from the collector 2. It put a smile on his face. Apparently his smile attracted his friends. 

“Come on Todoroki!” Midoriya chimed holding up a cup towards him. “Have a drink”  “Yeah loosen up and have some fun~” Ochako grinned. “Also~ Look who's here.” She 

elbowed him in the gut, cocking her head towards a pretty long haired brunette dressed as a witch. He rolled his eyes, how many times did he have to tell these annoying people that he wasn’t interested in anyone. 

“Look I know your a bit shy but she still likes you. Maybe you can go over there, chat her up a bit and who knows you might even get laid.” He was not amused. ‘There’s only one person I want to-’ He looked past the girl and his jaw dropped. He could feel his face warm up, his breath complete and utterly stolen. 

“Wow.” He breathed. His friends assumed he spoke of the Yaoyorozu and nudged him over towards that general direction. He walked slowly towards you, you looked a sight. The neon lights made your skin glow, your liner giving your eyes a more cattish look that to him made you look downright sexy. Your exposed flesh teased his eyes and your lips. God he wished he could steal them. 

His throat bobbed as he saw you drink from a plastic cup, your tongue running across your lower lip seductively. His heart thumped loudly in his chest, blood rushing south. His mouth watered and before he knew it someone obstructed his view of you. 

“S-Shouto.” He frowned. “I noticed that you were looking at-

“I’m sorry but can you move out of my way?” He cut her off and made to walk away to pursue you. He was ready to risk it all, he was tired of waiting for you to notice him. Tired of being brushed aside and he was sick of watching someone as ethereal as you be treated like trash. Maybe now was his chance. Your ‘feelings’ for your boyfriend were waning and now was the perfect moment to sweep you off your feet to show you how he was the best choice for you. 

Before he could walk away he felt the young woman grab his wrist. 

“W-wait d-don’t you like me?” She asked. He scoffed, his eyes zoning in on you. He was trying not to let you out of his sight when he saw it. He grit his teeth in anger as you flirted with his senor. Mirio just smiled politely complimenting you as you leaned against him. Yaoyorozu looked at him watching as his grip on his cup tightened and how his eyes narrowed down at the tall blond. She finally understood. She recoiled away from him, drawing her hand back as if she had been burned. 

Her lips curled in disgust, her eyes cringing in disbelief. She brought her hand up to her mouth. “I-I can’t believe it.” She whispered. “The rumors are actually true..” 

“What?” He asked, his sharp gaze slicing through her. She backed up tossing her drink on his face. 

“Get away from me you sick pervert.” she hissed. 

“Hey!” You shouted, you marched up to the girl who tossed the beer into your brother’s face. You quickly noticed who she was and for the wrong reasons you understood why Shouto didn’t like her. From where you were standing you saw a rich, beautiful girl who was angry at your younger brother’s rejection. She had to go. “If your going to harass my baby you can just fucking leave.” You hissed. 

“I’ll leave gladly.” She hissed. “You too fucking disgust me.” 

“Sho are you okay?” You asked, your hand slipping into his. He looked down at it in disbelief, his heart swelled ‘She called me baby again. She’s here in front of everyone holding my hand.’ He couldn’t stop the furious flush from claiming his cheeks. 

“Shouto?”

“I-I’m fine.” He smiled. It was a warm smile, something that unsettled his approaching friends. 

“Good.” You beamed. “You should go change and actually put on a costume.”

He nodded mutely and walked past Midoriya and Uraraka, a blissful smile on his lips as he went up to change. He wondered if you’d like his vampire costume..

“Do you think..”

“Ha, no way it’s not possible…” 

.

.

.

He checked his reflection a couple of times before heading downstairs, he wondered if you’d like the way he parted his hair. He’s heard people say it was sexy, he wondered if you thought he was sexually attractive. As soon as he reached the bottom step he frowned, your blubbering idiot of a boyfriend was piss poor drunk. And by the way he set his gaze on him Shouto knew he was going to have to exhibit an almost superhero level of self-restraint. 

“Oi sissy boy, why you ain’t ever got a woman?” He slurred. “You gay or something?” 

“Okay man I think you’ve had too many.” his friend waved him off trying to get him to leave. 

“No I’m not dun speaking.” He stumbled as he swiveled over to look up at Shouto. “Listen here punk.” His rancid breath fanned across Todoroki’s face, and he couldn’t help but cringe his lips curling in disgust. 

“Ya gotta problem wit meh? Always glaring at me an shit. Alway following my bitch around, you like her or sum? Your dick get hard for your sister?” He had started a commotion, a crowd soon gathering. Shouto had taken your panicked expression in and for your sake, he walked away. “That’s rite! Walk away you prissy bitch.” 

When he came back the party was over and you were left cleaning up the mess. The lights were still swirling around the room and he could make out the lump of the man laying on the couch passed out. Your tired eyes were red rimmed as you smiled at him. “Hey Sho.” 

It was when he saw the swelling in your left eye that he began to seethe. “He fucking hit you again.” He snarled, his fists balled up in fury. 

“H-He said he was sorry…” You sniffed weakly, you were on your last legs. Tired of defending him yet he knew if the man brought you flowers and took you out for a night in the town you’d crawl back having forgiven him. He couldn’t have that, he wouldn’t. “I-It’s alright Shouto i-it doesn’t even hurt anymore.” You sighed as his thumb caressed your cheek his fingers lightly bruising against the inflamed area. You winced and it was only when you met his teary gaze that you began to cry. You cried in his arms, you cried in the arms of the only man who loved you, and the only man who would protect you. He vowed to do justice by you, you would just have to bear it for a while longer. 

He kept his anger under wraps as he helped you clean, his grip on the broom was tight as he watched you go upstairs. It was then that his blood began to boil. But he would have to be patient, he fished out his phone waiting for you to be done showering. The texts he read over left him tugging at the roots of his hair. You hadn’t explained everything. Apparently he had hit you during the party in front of everyone then proceeded to throw everyone out. There were even videos!

White hot anger clouded his eyes, the snowy color was all that he could see as he walked into the kitchen. His heart beat in his ears and his blood was replaced by lava. He panted like something rabid, his vision fading and all of his previous fantasies coming to rest in the front of his mind. Soon his fingers wrapped around the cool metal of a kitchen knife. 

He caught a glimpse of his expression on the metallic surface, red rimmed his eyes' malicious intent curving up his lips. His tongue ran across his bottom lip as he walked towards the living room. His footsteps were slow as he wanted to savor the moment, breath every detail in. Once he reached the man he tapped the knife against his scruffy cheek. 

“You know.” He whispered. “I’ve been wanting to kill you for so so long.” 

He climbed over the man, his legs straddling his form. “You remind me of my father.” He smiled. “And I loathed him~ I didn’t mean to get Natsuo killed when I cut the breaks but” He paused to shrug. “It wasn’t a big deal. I got two for the price of one.” He chuckled, a frown soon slipped onto his visage. He wanted the man to be conscious for this. With out warning he backhanded the man without an ounce of self-restraint. 

“Gah!” The guy panicked. His eyes wide and shifting as he tried to make sense of the situation, all he could feel was the booming pain on his cheek, a coppery liquid pooling in his mouth. “S-Shouto!?” He gasped confused. There was a strange smile on the young man’s face that he’d never seen, it was frightening and he struggled to buck the stronger man off him. “G-Get off me!”

“No.” He wheezed. “It’s funny, isn’t it! The feeling you feel right now? I’m pretty sure my big sister felt it all the time, unbridled fear.” He teased revealing the clean metal of the knife. 

“T-This isn’t funny.” He stuttered. 

“I know.” Shouto seethed. “It’s never been funny, the way you treat the love of my life, I never found that shit amusing.” 

“Y-Your crazy!” He gasped, hyperventilating at the crushing weight and the palpable fear. “I-I’ll scream.” He warned. 

“Oh” He nodded. “I’m counting on it.” He leaned closer to the man’s ear. “You see we have no close neighbors and well (Name)’s room is soundproof. You see.. I just couldn’t stand the sound of you touching her.”

“(Name)!” He yelled, he was met with an explosive pain, his jaw crunching under the force of the blow, teeth loosening, some even dislodging and sliding down his bloodied throat. 

“You know how disgusting it was to watch you touch her? Watch you soil her perfect body.” He hissed, his fist colliding with his face repeatedly, until he stopped suddenly. “But that’s okay.” He laughed caressing the soiled face of the deadman. 

The man whimpered in pain, garbled noises bubbling from his busted lips. Crimson bubbles popped as he tried to beg for the Todoroki to spare him. “Shh shush I haven’t told you why it’s okay. It’s okay because I plan to erase all of that, all those nasty hurtful touches, they’ll be replaced by my loving hands, my lips and my dick. It’ll be fantastic and the best part is that little ol’ you won’t be a part of it.” THe tip of the knife booped his nose and the man scrambled to get up when he felt Shouto’s weight leave him. 

Shouto didn’t know what to name the feeling coursing through his veins. He was ecstatic, he was angry and the thoughts of the future had him giddy. Blood had rushed south and he felt drunkenly dizzy. ‘Woah let’s not get carried away’ he tried to rationalize ‘We still have to deal with him.’ The man held his dislocated jaw and tried to make a run for it. But in his still drunk and confused state all he could manage was a stumble. 

It was then that Shouto came down upon him, he plunged the knife into the soft flesh of the guy’s belly. His wide eyes gazed into Shouto’s blank excited ones and he couldn’t even hold the wound as he was repeatedly stabbed. His thin flesh squelched with each plunge, his life seeping and splattering around his perimeter. Shouto didn’t relent not even as his body slumped to the ground. Instead he followed him down, he snarled and growled as he attacked the man. 

He thought of all he had put you through, how he made you shrivel and curl into yourself like a cooked shrimp of all of the times he talked him down and of the distance he had forced between you. He gasped and panted as he straddled the limp body of another nuisance he had gotten rid of. After a while he pulled back and stood. 

              Silence reigned over the living room save for the desperate wheezes of the dual toned man’s hair. The air hissed as it slipped into his greedy mouth, the heavy sound of his pants were followed by the almost painful expansion of his lungs. He wiped a gloved hand over his brow collecting the droplets that had accumulated throughout the ordeal. 

His stormy eyes looked down at his hand, he saw his soiled reflection on the metallic steel. His pupils danced in dilation, his nostrils still flared. His blood was hot, scorching his veins as with every pound of  his heart. He let the blade fall to the stained rug, fingers trembling with nerves? Adrenalin? Excitement? 

It started with the curving of his lips, then a breathless chuckle until he was keeling over with laughter, tears in his eyes as his foot connected with the soft tissue of the body. He repeated the action kicking the belly of his victim, further soiling his shoes. The beige rug was stained a nauseating maroon, said color also decorated the sofa and he could feel the once warm liquid cool on his face. 

A mess of blood and viscera was left in the place where the man had once cowered. He leered over the man’s body, a grin stretching his pale pink lips. His tongue swept over his lips as he leaned down to the man’s ear to whisper secretively. 

“I’ve been wanting to do this to you the moment I set my eyes on you.” He chirped. “You’ve never deserved her” his fingers slid over the shredded skin of the man’s face as he plucked the crimson stained mask off his face. He stood up and slid the bloodied scream mask over his face, his menacing form illuminated by the colorful strobe lights that still circled the room. He turned towards the staircase of the house, It was time to pay you a visit and give you the good news. 

His heavy footfalls creaked the stairs as he made his way up closer to you, his stomach fluttered with emotion and his elation twitched beneath his trousers. ‘Finally’ He thought as the door to your room whined open. ‘Finally’

There you laid, body rising and falling in slumber, completely unperturbed by what had happened just beneath your room. You were beautiful. You had changed into more comfortable clothes for sleep and he quietly peeled back your covers to observe. His fingers stained the duvet as he bunched it up at the end of the bed. He pulled off his gloves and let his fingertips ghost over your legs. You shivered cutely at the light touch. 

He smiled beneath his bloodied mask, he figured he should trick you for a bit before he revealed the news. He climbed atop the bed, the mattress dipping underneath his weight. His fingers ghosted up your legs, cold digits reaching the crotch of your pants. He pressed his palm against the soft indent of flesh, his heart sped up at the warmth emanating from your most intimate place. He’d only ever dreamed of this. 

“Hmm” You sighed in your sleep, your eyes fluttering open when you felt the cold fingers. You sat up confused. You called the name of your lover and Shouto chuckled darkly. You huffed in annoyance when he didn’t answer. “I thought I said I didn’t want to see you anymore.” You frowned. “Hello, you listening? Ugh are you still drunk.” 

You flinched when he raised his hand and your brother felt his heart break at the reaction. ‘Don’t worry from now on I won’t let anyone else lay their hands on you.’ His hand slid up to your face and he cupped your cheek gently, pressing his masked forehead against yours. You were thoroughly confused. 

You were used to your boyfriend coming into your room for makeup sex but he was never this gentle with you. The thought of him meaning he was really sorry crossed your mind but, the fingers caressing your cheek didn’t feel like your boyfriends’ but it did feel familiar and it was comforting. It wasn’t long before he began to tug your clothes off your body, his hands traced your form appreciatively and you sighed blissfully at the feeling. 

“H-Hey at least take off your mask.” His silence was strange but you welcomed it. His hands came over your eyes, gently closing them. You caught on and kept them closed as you heard the rustle of clothes. It was then that you felt the press of smooth lips against your own. His fingers traced every inch of your body caressing the smooth flesh as his lips pressed soft kisses on your lips. Shouto swore there would never be anything better than your plush lips pressing against his own. 

Well that was his thought, until his fingers pressed against your slick lower lips. He buried his face in your neck, face flushed as you curled your arms around his neck. The soft squish of your wet lips had him throbbing and he let his fingers pet your clit as he worshiped the delicious length of your neck. You were on cloud nine as he kneaded and massaged your doughy flesh. His lips suckled on your breasts, tongue lavishing the hardened buds in attention as his fingers continued to swirl and tap against your swollen pearl. 

“Nngh” You gasped when you felt his fingers slip inside of you, your fingers coming up to fist his soft his, your other hand clawing at his broad shoulders. It was the feel of these textures that spurred you to open your eyes. “S-Shouto!” You moaned. 

His blue grey eyes slinked up to meet your gaze, his lidded expression filling your cheeks with warmth. Your jaw unhinged in another gasp as his thick fingers continued to slide inside your warm fleshy walls. Your mouth parted in protest “W-What are y-y-” Soft lips caught your own and your eyes enlarged as you felt your younger brother's tongue slide past your lips. The warm wet muscles gliding over your own. 

His other hand palmed your breast fingers squeezing the supple flesh that was still covered in a thin layer of his saliva. You pressed your hands to his chest. ‘T-This is wrong! You thought as his tongue rolled in between your teeth. When he pulled away there was a string of saliva that broke off. 

“I love you.” He breathed, placing his lips where he knew they belonged. 

“Ah~” You didn’t mean to let the sound slip, but his fingers had curved inside of you and with every thrust he put pressure against your g-spot. Your hand went to his wrist in order to halt his movement. 

“S-Shouto s-stop this is wrong, y-your my-

“Little brother.” He finished his mouth sucking on your neck. “I don’t care about that, in my opinion it just means we’re more connected.” His smile shocked you but what you felt against your thigh shocked you even more. 

“I-”

“Shh there’s no one to stop us.” He whispered. “No one to stop me from showing you how you should be loved.”

Your mouth opened and closed as you struggled to string together something coherent. Your protests resumed when he slid his other hand down your body, he leaned up allowing you to see the light sheen of sweat that highlighted the strong muscles of his body. And your eyes looked down his cut abdomen towards the bi-colored trail of hair leading down towards his weeping cock. His eyes met your and your face caught fire. You were about to draw into yourself and curl your body away from his lustful gaze when his large palms slid underneath your thighs. 

Your back hit the bed as he leaned his face closer to your cunt. You mind was still reeling, ‘G-get a grip (Name)! Your baby brother’s face is legit inches from your puss-

“Oh fuck.” You gasped as his hot tongue slid up the length of your slit. His tongue traced your lips, tongue curving into the folds of your labia before sliding back up towards your needy clit. When his tongue began to flick against the sensitive nerves you were lost. You arched your back pressing your pussy closer to his face practically begging him to suck you dry. 

He obliged, his mouth closing around your clit, fingers finding home base deep within your deliciously warm walls. You pulsed and trobbed around his finger and he swore he was dreaming. You tasted better than he imagined, you sounded better in person than from behind a wall. And god you just looked so damn amazing.  

“S-Shouto!” You cried. He moaned into you. Fuck yes that was all he ever wanted, all he needed, he need you to say it again to call his name out so desperately. He was grinding against the mattress as he let your warmth suffocate him. He held you close as you began to tremble your legs clamping over his head as you came around his tongue. 

“Hah~” He pulled back, his lips sticky with your slick, he wasted no time in capturing your lips once more. “Big sis I love you so much.” He gasped. “I -I want to show you how much.” 

“B-baby this is wrong.” Your protest was weak, no one had ever touched you like Shouto, no one had loved you as unconditionally as him, but this was morally wrong. 

“Don’t you love me?” He asked. 

“Of course I love you.” You replied. 

“Then there’s no problem.” He smiled. He settled in between your thighs, the head of his cock pressing against your pussy. He could seriously cum right there and then by just the incredible sight. And when he pushed into your hole he melted. He felt even more complete with every inch he fed into you. “I’m inside of you (Name).” His grin was practically euphoric and you fluttered around his impressive size. 

Then he began to move. He praised the feel of you, his length sliding in and out, slow and deep. That night Shouto made due on his promise to love you, and as you drifted off to sleep he replayed the moment, relishing in how you claimed to love him. 

.

.

.

When you awoke the next morning your mind slapped you with what had occurred last night. The horrors of you claiming to love your little brother cock filled you with a crippling sense of shame. You hadn’t woke to him next to you but after dressing you went to find him. You had to let him know that that couldn’t happen again. 

You hugged yourself as you walked down the stairs, from your spot you could see Shouto in the kitchen, on the table were two bowls and a box of your favorite cereal. ‘It’s now or-. The smell hit you first, a strong nauseating smell that you were only used to smelling during your heavier flows. Your blood drain and in its place your heart pumped liquid nitrogen. You reeled back as you caught sight of the body in front of you, you stumbled over your feet, your ass meeting the floor. Tears dripped down your chin as you tried to make heads or tails of what you saw. 

“What are you doing on the floor?” You heard your brother ask. He then noticed what you were looking at. “Oh.. Oh! I forgot to tell you the good news yesterday since we were so caught up.” He blushed. 

“G-good news..”

“Yeah, good news, that’s no longer in the picture.” He beamed. “Now come on you must be hungry~”

[miracleonice87]

I’ll Take Care of You, part two

a Tyler Seguin fic

a/n: this one’s from Peyton’s perspective. back in the fall when I first started writing fics again, I wrote part one in first person, which I don’t really do anymore, but I’m keeping that consistent for this one. read part one here first if you haven’t already. 

tw: fainting, mention of miscarriage/loss of pregnancy/infertility/periods

“Unfortunately, it’s not uncommon for this to occur with first pregnancies. It happens more often than you might think. It certainly doesn’t mean you won’t ever be able to have a baby. My rule of thumb is to let couples try to get pregnant again naturally for one year without any intervention. Then, if you’re still having difficulties, you can come back in and we can talk about other options.”

It had been eleven months since my doctor had spoken those words to Tyler and me following the miscarriage that had nearly broken us both.

Those eleven months had seen us try again and again each month with no success. I tracked my body temperature and ovulation cycle each and every day before even leaving bed. I’d completely removed alcohol and caffeine from my diet and monitored everything I put into my body, controlling every single factor I could possibly control.

And yet, on the thirteenth day — the unluckiest of days for multiple reasons — of each month, like clockwork, my period arrived. If Tyler was at home when it happened, I simply left the bathroom with a sorrowful shake of my head, curling into his waiting arms as he comforted me silently, holding me close, disappointment weighing heavily on us both. If he was on the road, I texted him only a “🔴” symbol, indicating that my monthly visitor had shown up unwelcome yet again. He replied each time with an, ”I’m sorry, sweetheart,” though he had nothing at all to apologize for.

My patience and determination, along with Tyler’s, were wearing thin. It was feeling more and more impossible to keep the faith — more and more unlikely that this would happen on its own.

I had all but given up hope.

But then...

The eleventh month arrived, and the thirteenth day of it came and went with no sign of my cycle. And then the fourteenth day. And then the fifteenth.

And with that, the smallest sliver of hope glimmered from out of the darkness in the depths of my heart.

But I wouldn’t allow myself to get too excited. With Tyler on a road trip to the East Coast, I barely slept those three nights, tossing and turning and wondering if I should take one of the numerous tests stuffed in the bathroom cabinet.

On the sixteenth, after Tyler had already left for morning skate, I decided it was time. Though I knew I couldn’t do it alone, I also couldn’t stomach the thought of waiting for Ty to return — let alone the thought of seeing his disappointment in the event of yet another negative test.

Thankfully, though, the sixteenth was a Friday — the day that Fanny, Klinger’s fiancée, and I had long ago set aside for morning yoga in my home gym. Fanny, now six months pregnant herself with her and John’s first baby, would arrive at 10 a.m., and I decided that that was as good a time as any to find out what was next for Ty and me — we would either finally start the family we’d always wanted, or it would be time for a different approach.

After greeting one another and stretching over small talk, Fanny carefully broached the topic that I had brought to her, heartbroken, so many times in the past year.

“So how have you been feeling?” she inquired gently from the mat next to mine, bending to the side for a new pose. “Are you on your cycle?”

From where I stood with my arms extended straight out, my face turned away from hers, I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth and pondered what to say next.

“Well,” I began before clearing my throat, “That’s, um... I actually wanted to talk to you about that.”

You pivoted to face Fanny, her pretty eyes now wide as saucers. Slowly, she stood up straight.

“Stop it,” Fanny whispered incredulously, joy etched in her expression.

I shrugged a bit. “I’m late,” I admitted softly. “But only by three days. And I haven’t taken a test-“

“Peyton!” Fanny warned through her giggles, hands finding her hips. “You have to!”

I smiled, appreciating my dear friend’s excitement for me while still feeling the familiar tightness of anxiety in my gut.

“I will,” I promised. “I seriously told myself I was gonna wait to do it while you were here. I couldn’t do it alone and I... if I’m not... well, I just can’t bear to see Ty’s reaction again…”

Fanny nodded solemnly. “Oh, sweetie. I understand,” she assured. “Maybe after we finish up? Or not. I mean, we can do it whenever you feel ready.”

I nodded, suddenly feeling overheated and attributing it to my frayed nerves.

“God, is it hot in here?” I asked, unzipping my lightweight jacket and throwing it aside, still fanning myself though I now wore only a sports bra and athletic shorts.

Fanny frowned, looking at my reflection in the mirrored wall in front of us. “No, I feel fine,” she said.

I tied my ponytail into a high bun to get the hair off my neck, noting a faint ringing in my ears as I placed my feet in position on the mat once more.

As I reached down for my toes, the ringing grew louder, and I suddenly saw stars in my vision.

With trembling hands, I wiped the sweat from my now-dripping brow and stood straight up, but apparently too quickly, as the room around me quickly fell from focus, darkness taking its place.

“Fan... I-I don’t feel good...”

Alarmed at the weakness of my voice, Fanny turned to face me and gasped.

“Babe, oh my god!” she exclaimed — the last thing I heard before everything faded to black.

_____

The next thing I heard as I came to was my husband’s voice, which sounded distant and faint. I moaned, squinting at the bright fluorescent lights above me as I realized that I was lying on my back on the floor, with Tyler’s face inches above mine. I opened my eyes slowly and heard him draw a deep breath, announcing, “She’s awake.”

I felt him cup my cheek tenderly as I offered a weak smile.

“Hi,” he breathed, relief heavy in his tone. “Hi, sweet girl. You scared us pretty good.”

“What happened?” I asked, confused by the hoarseness of my own voice. I moved to prop myself up on my elbows, but Tyler gently pushed my shoulders flat once more.

“Shh, shh, hey, don’t get up,” he instructed. “You passed out while you and Fanny were working out. Do you remember that?”

With a furrowed brow, I nodded. I saw Fanny standing behind Tyler, covering her lips with her fingers as she stared at me nervously.

“Oh god, Fan, I’m so sorry,” I murmured, still feeling weak and shaky.

Fanny shook her head and took a couple of steps forward, standing over Tyler’s shoulder. “Babe, no, don’t apologize,” she insisted. “I was just worried about you. Tyler came in the door just a minute after it happened but I had already called 911. I just didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry.”

I nodded, my eyes fluttering closed once more. “That’s okay,” I said softly.

Just then, there was a knock at the door upstairs, and Fanny hurried up the steps to answer it. I rolled my head to look at Tyler, who stared down at me with deep concern.

“You’re gonna be okay, baby,” he promised, pushing some hair from my still-damp forehead. “We’re gonna get you checked out and see what’s going on, okay?”

I nodded as I heard footsteps coming back down the stairs, and two paramedics followed Fanny to where I lay, still on my yoga mat.

“Hey there,” one of them smiled. “I’m Maria, and this is my partner, Chris. You’re Peyton?”

I nodded as Maria knelt beside me, opposite Tyler, with Chris placing a medic kit on the floor next to him.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Peyton,” Maria said kindly. “How are you feeling right now?”

I cleared my throat, attempting to blink the fog away.

“Not as bad as I did a few minutes ago,” I half-joked. “But I still feel shaky, and hot.”

Maria nodded, pressing the stethoscope to my chest.

“Can you tell me what you’ve had to eat and drink today?” she asked.

“Um... I had two cups of coffee, a yogurt... and some water during yoga,” I replied.

“Okay,” Maria said as Chris took my pulse, with Tyler holding tight to my other hand and watching their every move. “Any history of fainting before this?”

I shook my head. “No, never,” I said.

“Any blood sugar issues? Diabetes, hypoglycemia?”

“No, nothing.”

“Are you currently on your period?”

My cheeks warmed. This certainly wasn’t the way I had planned to tell Tyler of our latest development.

“Um, n-no,” I admitted sheepishly, glancing at him. I could see the wheels beginning to turn in his mind even as he watched the paramedics instead of me.

“Any chance you could be pregnant?” Maria asked gently as she folded her stethoscope into her bag and reached for a blood pressure cuff.

Shit.

“Uh… actually, yeah.”

Immediately, Tyler’s head snapped toward me.

“Wait, what? Really?” he inquired, joy exuding from his whole being.

I simply shrugged, beaming. “I’m late.”

A small, knowing smile crossed Maria’s face. She wrapped the cuff around my arm and began to squeeze the pump.

“Okay, well, that could be the reason,” Maria noted. “Sometimes when you’re early in a pregnancy, your body might not be getting all the extra rest and nutrients and hydration it needs. It happens sometimes, and often, it’s no big deal.”

I nodded, reaching for Tyler’s hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I said with a scrunched nose. “I just didn’t want to get my hopes up, let alone yours.”

Tyler brought my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles.

“It’s okay,” he told me with a shake of his head. “I get it.”

I smiled gratefully, and Maria removed the cuff from my arm.

“Your blood pressure is a little low, which doesn’t surprise me,” she said. “Again, this can happen. Just to be safe, I wanna take you to the hospital for an EKG and monitor you for a bit, and we’ll do a pregnancy test there too, okay?”

I nodded, looking to Tyler for reassurance.

“It’s okay,” he said, knowing exactly what I needed to hear. “I’ll be right there with you.”

_____

One ambulance ride later, with Tyler beside me and Fanny following behind in my car, I had arrived at the emergency department and was being poked and prodded and hooked up to a plethora of monitors. A cardiologist soon confirmed that everything was fine with my heart, and my pregnancy test was then the only result that hung in the balance.

I sat propped up on pillows in the hospital bed, Tyler standing at my side as we waited in silence.

Out of nowhere, tears formed in my eyes, and I tried to swipe at them without Tyler noticing — a futile attempt. When he heard my faint whimper, he stepped closer and gathered me into his arms, kissing the top of my head.

“Hey, hey,” he spoke softly. “What is it, baby?”

“I’m scared, Ty,” I whispered, head buried in his chest. “Whether it’s positive or negative. I’m just scared.”

“I know, babe,” he replied, slowly caressing my back. “It’s okay to be scared. I’m scared, too. You’ve been through hell.”

“We’ve been through hell,” I corrected, sniffling as I looked up at him. Tyler nodded and smoothed his thumb along my jaw.

“We just have to believe that everything is gonna work out this time,” he told me as he kissed my forehead. “Good things are coming, Peyt. I can feel it.”

After several more minutes, my nurse, a sweet woman named Beth who spoke with a thick Texas accent, entered the room holding my chart. I could actually hear my own heartbeat in my ears, this time not because I felt faint, but because I was overwhelmed with anticipation.

“Well, Miss Peyton…” Beth began with a smile. “Congratulations. You’re gonna be a mama.”

I let out a sob and covered my mouth with my hand immediately, and Tyler choked out a breathless laugh. His hands grasped my face as he kissed me firmly.

“You hear that? We’re having a baby,” he whispered, eyes glossy with tears. “God, I love you so much.”

I giggled excitedly. “I love you, too, baby daddy,” I replied, causing Tyler to chuckle, too.

As Beth looked on with a grin, she wrote a few things down on my chart, then said, “Congratulations, you two. I’ll give you some privacy. Peyton, honey, we’ll be back around to check on you in about half an hour, okay?”

I nodded, tears streaking my face. “Yes, yes, thank you,” I spoke. “Thank you so much.”

With a kind nod, she left the room, pulling the sliding glass door closed behind her.

Before the door was even shut, Tyler’s lips found mine once more, his fingers holding my cheeks reverently. Eventually, I pulled away for a breath.

“You were right,” I told him, nudging his nose with mine.

Still completely giddy, he asked with a smile, “What was I right about?”

I reached a hand up to work my fingers through his curls. “You told me good things are coming,” I reminded, voice quivering. “You were right.”

Tyler was overcome with emotion once again and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. For the longest time, we stayed that way, embracing with only the sounds of soft, happy cries filling the room.

_____

eight months later...

“Are you the most handsome little man in the whole wide world? Hmm? I think so,” Tyler spoke to the tiny baby he held in his arms. “I think you’re just the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen.”

I smiled from my hospital bed, feeling more exhausted and more in love than I ever knew I was capable of.

“And it’s a good thing you look like your mommy,” Tyler added, smirking at me before kissing the baby’s forehead — our baby’s forehead. “Uncle Jamie is gonna say that too. Yes, he is. I might as well beat him to it, huh?”

I chuckled, patting the mattress beneath me and gesturing for Tyler to join me.

“Bring him back over here,” I pleaded. “I miss him already.”

Tyler hummed knowingly and rose from his chair, carefully cradling the baby in his arms.

“I know,” he said. “I miss him, too, and I’m literally holding him. How is that possible?”

I smiled. “Because having kids means your heart walks around outside of your body,” I spoke, kissing our boy’s chubby cheek as Tyler took his place on my bed. “That’s what my grandmother used to say.”

He nodded. “You’re damn right,” he said, shaking his head. “I feel it already. I never knew it was possible to feel this way, Peyt. As bad as we wanted a baby, as much as it hurt when we lost the first one...” Tyler choked up as he spoke of the loss we’d experienced now almost two years ago. After a pause, he continued. “I still just never thought it would feel this incredible.”

I curled my hands around his arm and kissed his bicep. “Me either,” I admitted airily. “I’ll never forget the pain we felt then. And that baby will always be our first. But this... this is the best day of my life.”

Tyler beamed, wrapping one arm around my waist while cradling the baby to his chest with his other.

“So, are we decided on this little man’s name?” Tyler asked as I touched the baby’s pouted lips, making us both giggled at his expression.

“I think so,” I confirmed, leaning my head against his shoulder. “Are you still thinking what I’m thinking?”

Tyler looked down at me with hooded eyes, full of adoration, and nodded. “If you’re sure,” he spoke.

I’d been sure for a few months now, since the first day that I allowed myself to browse a baby name book, still riddled with fear of the unknown, while also waiting expectantly and with hope for our new journey ahead. I didn’t get far, only to the B’s, when I found the perfect name... one that meant blessed. 

As I peered down at the boy in my arms, no name seemed more fitting than that one I’d whispered into being long ago. 

“I’m sure,” I replied confidently. I cradled the baby’s head in my hand and pressed my lips to his forehead. “Welcome to our world, Bennett Tyler Seguin,” I whispered, overjoyed and humbled to finally have the privilege of having a son to name not only for his daddy, but also for the precious, long-awaited gift he was to us.

“Our boy,” Tyler whispered reverently.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

The Thief and the Tinker, Part 3: I See Fire

part 2

Part 3

Viren: Well how do you suggest we get him out?

Claudia: *grins, brandishes marshmallow on toasting fork* Unharmed is just another kind of harmed

Viren: Claudia no

Claudia: Claudia YES

I See Fire

Angst rating: 9/10

Viren is clever enough not to take the Silvergrove on alone, no matter how badly he wants Ethari to make him a magic key. Aaravos could be cooking in that pod for a while longer, but Viren still has a trustworthy and badass ally at his side.

Oh yeah, it's Claudia Time again!

Claudia is a powerful and imaginative dark mage, and she has the tainted Sun staff. So, you're the magefam, and you've made it to Xadia, to the edges of the Moonshadow Forest. And all you need to do to get the power of your dreams is to threaten one soft craftsman. But how do you find one specific Moonshadow elf in a hidden Moonshadow village somewhere in the middle of a giant spooky magical forest?

You burn him out.

Credit once again to@random-fandom-ramble for reminding me of this forest fire headcanon, because it fits so well. and so I don't get all the blame for this one, lol

Because see, that's not ordinary fire. Oh, no. That's dark magic fire. We've seen that before. It leaves permanent scars. Remember Sol Regem's eyes?

That's going to be the landscape when Claudia's fire gets through with the Moonshadow elves' home. Where I live on the US West Coast, they name forest fires, and if they combine, they get called complexes. So maybe we can name this fire the Dark Tragedy Complex? Because I do have to wonder... you could start a dark magic forest fire easily with a tainted Sun staff, but how do you put it out?

Two things are going to happen if these events should unfold. One is angsty. The other is also angsty but then amazing.

Firstly, Viren is going to get what he wants. He'll find Ethari, whose tree burned down :(. He'll show him the coins, and he'll offer a trade. Build what he wants and make it work, and Ethari can have his family back, uncoined and free.

And Ethari will say yes.

He'll say yes no matter what anyone else tries to persuade him to do, and I hope they do try, because see: Ethari has to make it look good. He has to make it look like he's all in on Viren's plan, to Viren. Even if that means turning his back on his people in their time of greatest need.

Secondly, the Moonshadow elves are going to be collectively homeless and bereft, hungry, injured, terrified, angry. They will have nowhere to go. They will be a people without a home. And no one else in Xadia will help them. Maybe they're too terrified to hide Ethari's people in case doing so brings Viren down on them, too. We've seen how ordinary elves flee in terror from dark magic. Maybe they're all fighting other issues, too. Viren knows all about stretching resources too far during times of crisis. Whatever the case, there will be no welcome anywhere in Xadia for the Moonshadow elves of the Moonshadow Forest.

But here's where it gets amazing. Because one hand will reach out. One small hand, from across the border. Good King Ezran will stand up on the seat of his throne and say, "You can stay here. I have forests. You're tired, you're hungry. You need medicine. Let me help."

And I'm gonna cry like a little baby.

How many cycles does this break, how many circles does it complete? Moonshadow elves used to live in Katolis before the border was created. When humans were under threat of total annihilation, the Moonshadow leader's daughter spoke up and asked for mercy. That mercy came in the form of land reassignment, and the Moonshadow elves had to give up their ancestral home, their Nexus, and travel east across the new Border. But that mercy got paired with justice, and the life-loving Moon Druids probably had to swear some kind of blood promise to keep an eye on the humans forevermore, and to kill any individuals who got out of hand, as if their sins were the Moonshadows' responsibility now.

That's got to breed a little resentment, a little superiority. "Look what we sacrificed for you, and this is how you act. Ungrateful." And maybe that was partially Luna Tenebris's goal: to hold to her vision of justice, she had to make the elves who shared her arcanum feel a little resentment. Moonshadows love life, but we can't have them being too soft to keep Xadia safe from dark mages, now, can we? I will never stop cackling over dragon politics okay, never

But the Moonshadow elves never figured on King Ezran. A soft boy who refused to let his father's assassination harden his heart, because every life is genuinely important to him. I've seen headcanons for Ezran getting the Sun, Earth, Ocean, and Stars arcanum. How about Moon, too? Because this is very Ethari of him, and if these stories of Viren's plan and the Moonshadow elves' displacement were actually to happen in tandem, the contrast between Ezran's soft choice and Ethari's hard one would be mindblowing.

Ezran completes the circle by inviting the Moonshadow elves to return to Katolis, to their ancestral home. They left long ago, paying the price for an act of mercy, but they were welcomed back by the mercy of humans, repaid after a thousand years, repaid in the face of tragedy. Tragedy on all sides. Tragedy Ezran wants to stop from happening, by being brave and caring and soft, and by being the first to break this thousand-year cycle between Katolis and the Moonshadow elves.

Rayla is his friend. And these are her people. It won't matter what they've done, only that they need help in a time of great desperation. And of course he'll help them. He's Ezran, and he's Katolis's greatest treasure.

Oh, what's that you say? Inviting the Moonshadow elves to settle in Katolis again would make it easier for Rayla to live with Callum in the future? Oh gosh, how about that? What a deal. *smug matchmaker noises*

And once the Moonshadow elves understand that they're safe and begin to trust Ezran--which could happen very quickly, because saving a Moonshadow elf's life when you didn't need to is a really fast way to prove you're trustworthy--maybe Ezran will be encouraged to take the next step toward peace, and eventually other elves and dragons will come to meet together to talk it over. And Ez will offer them jelly tarts, which they will love.

Back to Ethari, because we're not done with him yet. Ethari is soft, but he isn't weak. He won't be a willing pawn for Viren. He loves Runaan to the point of invention, and his devotion is more constant than the moon itself. He'll agree to do what Viren says, and he'll be Very Sad. But his spirit is in no way broken. Viren bribing him with the coins containing his family will only have the opposite effect. It'll give Ethari something to fight for.

We could get Focused Chaos Ethari. We could get Angery Trickster Ethari. We could get Rules, What Rules? Ethari. Let him try to steal the coins, try to break them, try to kill Viren, and be stymied at every turn, until he settles and seems cowed. And then all he does is craft his way out of the problem. What if we are gifted with Iron Man Ethari, who pretends to build a fake Key for Viren, but meanwhile he's really building a coinbuster with whatever he can get his hands on - primal stones, magically imbued gemstones, stolen artifacts, his own arcanum, his own reputation as the Master Craftsman of the Silvergrove. He'll use almost- almost - anything, to stop Viren and free his family.

Ethari may have to choose between those two things, though. And he's a hero, deep down, just like his family, just like his daughter. If he has to choose, he'll choose to stop Viren and save Xadia. He'll pay the same price as his family has if he must.

He'd let Viren think he was motivated purely by wanting his family back, but Ethari is far too steeped in the illusion and sacrifice for that to be all there is to his motives. It's a so-close-and-yet-so-far thing, how he and Viren almost embody the same ideals. Almost. Ethari would take one look at Viren, who just burnt down his whole Forest, he'd see the biggest threat in Xadia, and he'd say anything to get a chance to stop this juggernaut of destruction from getting his hands on whatever that ultimate power really is, locked behind that missing key. If he has to abandon his people and bawl his eyes out to convince Viren he's in, then he will.

And Viren wouldn't make it easy for him. He knows clever when he sees it. He went through all this trouble to persuade Ethari to work with him. He would need to keep Ethari as off-balance as possible to ensure that he keeps working as he should.

Angsty jewelry, anyone: Viren giving Ethari his husband in pendant form to remind him what he's working for, when Viren and Ethari both know full well that only dark magic can open the hellcoins. Ethari wearing another pendant of his love, except it's not a metaphor this time. It's literally his love, in a coin around his neck.

Viren would know that Ethari would have to stay close to Viren of his own free will if he ever hoped to free Runaan. And making people bind themselves to you is a big power flex. Remember that TDP stream future-season teaser note about Bait being in a creepy restraint in a future season?

This card is written on in all-caps, so that really could be "Bait" or "bait," or--knowing this show--both. Viren's been using Runaan as bait for Ethari all along. Putting his coin in a dark magic pendant casing for Ethari to wear would be a great parallel for that. Oh god. Oh man.

Maybe he'll stab the coin's scary casing right through that circle on Ethari's chest, right over his heart, make that Iron Man reference really obvious. Ethari also losing his shirt at some point, for angsty Viren-related reasons? It's more likely than you think. I mean... Ethari is literally involved in both forms of forging at this point. Shirt's gotta come off for uhhhh work reasons. And because he's hot. Because of all the forging. I mean how else are we finally going to discover what his markings look like

I mentioned that I liked god-tier villains, right? Yeah, this is amazing. I haven't wanted to die and ascend over an idea for quite a while, but Ethari vs Viren in a drawn-out battle of wills would kill me in the best way. Especially since, while it looks like they're essentially fighting for who gets Runaan, they're truly fighting a much larger battle with much higher stakes. They're fighting for the future itself. It's an epic struggle between the Narrative of Strength and the Narrative of Love. And we've seen what happens, over and over, when the Narrative of Strength gets to call the shots.

On a meta note: If Runaan and Ethari's story arc isn't a love letter from one trauma survivor to another, and on a broader scope to all survivors who see it, I don't know what is. Sometimes life just chews us up and spits us out and we can't stop it and it breaks us. But sometimes we can reach out and grasp the chance to help each other, even after that, even when it hurts a lot, because we know what it means to be loved, and to love, and to want a safer future for each other and for people we'll never meet. The future is worth standing together for, helping each other back up for, fighting side by side for, even if you can't see how it'll end, or even how to begin. We are stronger together, and sometimes we need to fight for our "together" before we can fight for anything else. And that's worth it, every time.

This is glorious, it's beautiful, it's tragic, it's amazing, it makes me want to dance, it makes me want to scream into the void, it makes me want to slap someone with a semi truck. No, someone specific, don't worry, and he super deserves it.

Because Ethari is going to win. He was always going to win. He's soft, and he's clever, and he hasn't forgotten what love means. It's what he's fighting for. Not power, not control. Love. He doesn't want to dictate Runaan's future, or anyone else's. He just wants his husband--and everyone else--to have one at all.

So he's going to win.

What beating Viren looks like, I can't guess yet. TDP is no stranger to angst, so there will probably be a high cost involved in thwarting the dark mage. Maybe not everyone can be rescued from the coins. Maybe Ethari will lose his life, or his soul, or his vision, or something else really angsty. Viren could even kill him and resurrect him as a smoky craftsman, or a zombie craftsman, or something equally biddable but horrible. The only thing I'm sure of is that Ethari would never willingly make a working Key of Aaravos Ethari as long as there's a chance Viren could possess it. But I do believe that if he gets the right opportunity while he's busy saving the world from Viren's dark intentions, he'll break his husband's hellcoin open somehow and set him free, even if he has to smile at the devil to do it.

part 4

[justplainwhump]

Lead and Follow (aka ‘The Dance’)

For the wonderful @whumping-newbie ‘s birthday, the long-awaited continuation of our whumpee's birthday - finally featuring the promised dance... combined with some other pain, of course, for good measure.

Happy birthday, friend! Hope you enjoy it!

Cw - intimate whumper, strangling, humiliation,  captivity, lady whump, noncon touch, noncon kiss, implied fade-to-black noncon at the end 

[Masterpost Charlie/Marissa]

The third and final* installment of the little birthday subseries [pt 0 | pt 1 | pt 2] - but it can totally be read alone.

*at least until I learn to write explicit NSFW

###

Charles' hand was resting between her shoulder blades. His touch was gentle, almost affectionate, had his palm not pressed onto fresh cut wounds in her skin.

"You make me the luckiest man in the world", he whispered into her ear. She stiffened in her seat at the choice of words and he let out a soft chuckle. "Yeah. That's what your husband said, at your wedding. I must admit, he was right. You're perfect, babydoll." His fingers idly played with the buckle of her collar. 

"You know how to make any man happy, don't you? He was just the wrong one. Didn't know how to keep a whore like you in line."

Marissa fought back the hot, angry tears rising in her eyes. "Keep Jason out of-"

His hand closed around the collar, a sudden, brutal twist cutting off her breath. She wheezed for air, panicked, but there was nothing. Her feet pushed into the ground trying to get herself away from him, her arms flew up to pull him away, but he easily caught them with his other hand.

"No talking back", he hissed into her ear. Black spots danced into her vision. "That was our deal, remember? This was supposed to be a nice and peaceful evening."

He held it for some more seconds, held the collar and her body, that thrashed and spasmed beyond her control, before he finally let go. She collapsed to the ground, curled together on her side, coughing and crying and breathing again, finally. Still not dead.

With a sigh he stepped into her vision, perfectly polished leather shoes under perfectly ironed suit pants. "I like you like this, Marissa, you know that, but it's utterly unelegant. Doesn't suit the occasion." His shoe tip pushed under her cheek to lift up her face and the casual cruelty of the notion, mixed with smell of leather and shoe polish almost made her gag. "You don't want to anger me on your birthday, do you? This day is yours, after all. No restraints. Bathing. A nice dress. Gifts. Your favorite food. I even got your favorite music."

Dimly, somewhere beyond her desperate wheezing and the too loud beating of her own heart, she heard it. Innocent tunes, happy and energetic, a voice singing of love and joy.

"Get up now", he commanded. "Behave. And show me you deserve this kindness."

Bastard, she thought. His gaze met hers from where he was standing, that smug grin on his face that he never seemed to drop around her. And why should he. He had won.

Gingerly she propped herself on her arms, but his foot on her chest stopped her.

"Apologize first."

Her words came too easy. "I'm sorry", she whispered, her voice still rough from coughing. 

"What for?", he pushed.

"Speaking up."

"Saying his name", Charles corrected softly. "You will never ever say your pathetic husband's name. You're mine now. I won. So. Say it. You're sorry for forgetting your place. You're sorry for saying that loser's name. Say it and look me in the eye while you do."

She looked at him, into these green eyes that were speaking of hunger and hatred, and she only hated herself. "I'm sorry for forgetting my place", she said flatly. "I'm sorry for saying J-" His eyes narrowed and she cried out, when he kicked her down again. "The loser", she corrected with a half sob. Charles looked satisfied. She felt sick as she went on. "I'm sorry for saying the... the loser's name. It was wrong. I... I'm yours."

"Good", he replied softly and withdrew his foot from her chest. "Perfect. Now let's try again to make this a pleasant evening, shall we?"

He extended his hand to help her up, and despite her urge to slap it away, she took it and let him pull her to her feet.

When he kissed her, she didn't fight. He was gentle, placated by the words he had forced out of her. His lips trailed down her neck, past the collar, along the cut wounds on her clavicle and she shuddered at the burning sting when one of the cuts opened again. "You're delicious, babydoll", he purred as he pulled her closer. "I love that rare, perfect obedience."

His hand wandered down her side, caressing the smooth fabric of the dress he had given her, and ended on the small of her back. "Let's dance, Marissa", he whispered into her hair. "Like on our first meeting. Let's dance and celebrate how far we have come since then."

She was grateful for the way his face was buried in her neck, because she couldn't hide the pain flaring in her eyes, the tears welling up that she had to swallow back because everything, everything he'd come up with when he saw her facade crumbling would be infinitely worse.

Slowly, she lifted her left hand and rested it on his upper arm. His shirt felt soft and expensive under her touch, like the one he had worn at their first dance indeed, and she idly wondered if he had planned all this. 

"I've wanted to have you since that day", he said, as he took her other her other hand and caressed her palm with his thumb. "Since he brought you to my wedding to brag with you. He put you into my arms for that dance, all beautiful and half undone, just to mock me."

He didn't. He brought me, because he loves me. She wanted to shout at him, but she kept silent.

A new song started, as if on cue, the rhythm quick and powerful. Jive. Her favorite dance. And Charles'. They had danced socially, often, the two best dancers in their circle of friends. She had truly enjoyed it, often enough. Now, it sickened her just to think about these moments.

Charles' fingers drummed to the beat on her side, before he lead her into the dance. He moved smoothly, and she simply followed. It was of no use to think. As long as they danced he couldn't hurt her. As long as they danced, she could forget. The song was fast, a challenge for less experienced dancers, perfect for their caliber. The weeks she had spent down here had weakened her, but the combinations and steps still came to her easily. The wounds on her arms hurt when she stretched them for the figures, but she'd once danced a tournament with a strained ankle. She could switch off the pain, the disgust, the fear. She could ignore the confined space of this prison and the vile grin on her captor's lips. She could lose herself in the dance, in the rhythm of the music, in the tiny cues that she knew exactly how to react on.

If she focused on the music and her body, she could just block out the words he whispered, just reduce them to a background noise that couldn't hurt her. Strands of her hair flew out of the updo and over her shoulders, and somehow this tiny taste of freedom made her smile more real.

Charles sent her into a fast outside turn, and she spun, reached for his arm - into nothing. He didn't catch her. Just stood and watched.

She stumbled back, off balance, yelped as she crashed into the cheap couch. Everything was back at once. The clammy, constricting basement air, the barred windows, the sting of her wounds, the constant dull ache in her body. And him, stepping back into her vision, pressing her into the cushions. "I always admired this about you", he said, as he followed her onto the couch, knelt over her. "You can act so annoyingly loud and determined, but when dancing, you ease into place perfectly. You, babydoll, in your very core, you love to follow, don't you? You love to subordinate yourself. This was just beautiful."

His hands were on her hips, pushed up the short dress, a vile smile rising on his face as he looked down on her. He hadn't given her anything to wear underneath. 

Her head was spinning, her breath still racing from the exertion.

"Let's just keep that up, babydoll, huh?" He reached down to open his belt, his own breath going as fast as hers, hot against her skin as he kissed her neck. "Show me how good you are at following."

[vampiric-daydreams]

Revelation

Jasper x Reader

This is Part 5 of the Jasper miniseries. Here is Part 1.

Summary: Somewhere between the exhaustion of having your emotions literally toyed with and receiving some shocking news from Alice, you try to develop a deeper understanding of your situation. This leads to a shocking revelation about Jasper.

Word Count: 2,936

*

Something was definitely going on now, if it wasn’t already.

They sat at their table in the cafeteria, together but not interacting. Alice was looking anywhere but at Jasper, and Jasper seemed starved for her attention. He glanced at you, darting his eyes away when you noticed, almost as if he was ashamed. Alice’s gaze locked with your own mere seconds after, her gorgeous golden eyes pierced with pain. Even after spilling their secrets to you last night, they were still keeping something for themselves. You reflected on what Jasper told you before he left last night.

It’s important that you seek her when you’re ready to listen… You’ll like what she saw for you.

Jasper’s words, the distance between them both… Could it have something to do with that vision? Frowning at Alice, who was still staring back at you, you stood up and walked out of the cafeteria; knowing that she would follow behind you.

Minutes later, Alice met you by the drinking fountains outside a block of classrooms. Her hair, always styled to perfection, was slightly messy; but that in itself was enough to tell you that whatever had been going on last night had gotten worse. As she walked towards you, it was like she suffered more with every step.

“I’m sorry for freaking out last night, I-”

“Don’t apologise for that. It’s a lot to take in at once for anybody.” She forced a smile. You didn’t trust her.

“Well, I’m sorry. I’ve upset you and Jasper with my actions.” You paused. Was now the right time to ask for the rest of her vision? You took the plunge, anyway. “I hope it’s not an inconsiderate time to ask, but Jasper told me I needed to find out more of what you had to say? I shouldn’t have stormed off like that, and he made it sound like I missed something important back there.”

“(Y/N), only if you’re ready to listen, can we get away from here and go someplace a little more private?” For the first time, you noticed, Alice Cullen seemed human. No longer the paradigm of devastating perfection, Alice’s straight brows furrowed, and she toyed with her fingers. Giving her a nod in response, Alice led you away from the school and into the forest you had refused to follow Jasper into only yesterday. But this time, it was different. You knew the Cullens would not kill you, as much as they may want to. Something about Edward struck him as the hypocritical type who would campaign for your death to protect their secret, yet protect Bella at all costs in the same breath.

“He said I’d like what you saw for me. What does that mean?”

Alice halted in front of you, dwarfed by her surroundings of wide trunks and thick, mossy roots. The moist earth squelched beneath your shoes as you took your final steps before stopping behind her. She didn’t turn to face you. “I know about your arrangement with him last night—about how he’s using his gift to suppress your feelings—and (Y/N), it’s wrong.”

“It’s the only thing we can do. I can’t get over him. Even now that he’s out of range, I can feel the love seeping back into my heart.”

“It won’t work,” she spat. She turned around and glared at you. “Nothing either of you do will work and the rest of us have no choice but to accept it. Including me.”

“Alice, I-”

“I didn’t tell you about the rest of the vision I had—the one we’re living in right now.” You didn’t speak again, knowing it was probably easier for her to shoot everything at you at once. “I’ll skip how we were concerned about our secret being safe with you—I can’t afford for you to run off again. This is important. I saw you and Jasper together. I’ve done what I can to see if there’s a way around it, but it seems right. It’s like the universe keeps pushing you together in every alternate scenario,” her voice broke, “and he looked so happy with you.”

“I’m so sor-”

“I need you to hear this. It’s difficult for me to admit that Jasper and I might not be as perfect for each other as I hoped. When I first met him, I had already known we would be married and in love and with our coven. I had that vision twenty-eight years before I met him, and I shaped my entire life as a vampire around it. I practised vegetarianism long before I met him, I–” She cut herself off, almost sounding breathless. “I have to give you my blessing, because the Jasper I saw in that vision with you was a better version of himself, a happier version of himself. I thought I was meant to be with him, but I guess I was wrong.”

“It’s not like Jasper even wants to-”

“I’ve been distancing myself from him; trying to see if I might move on from him.  I had a vision and saw myself, perfectly content, with the two of you as a couple. He assumed the woman who changed him was his mate, but he was wrong. Perhaps I was wrong about him?”

“Alice! That can’t be right! He told me how long you’ve been married, there’s no way you wouldn’t have noticed sooner if that were the case!”

She gave you one last defeated expression before she left, and you were alone; your heavy heart threatening to drown you.

 *

 Two days had passed, and already your love for Jasper rising and falling like a Yo-Yo was exhausting. All of your energy had drained away. You flopped on your bed and laid there lifelessly; staring up at the ceiling you wondered why it had to be you. Why couldn’t you be a normal person with a normal crush on another normal person? You wondered if Bella ever felt that way.

We need to talk. You didn’t want your first text exchange with Jasper to be so blunt and cold, but you both needed to reassess the mood-control strategy; your body just wasn’t coping.

You went over Alice’s visions in your mind, playing them like a movie. Even through the guilt, your heart fluttered at the thought of a romance being a possibility. Had she seen you kissing?

A powerful sense of nausea hit you as your body threatened to vomit. You still wanted Jasper, and you were sure you always would—but what it was costing both of you was too much to bear. Stuck between the man you loved, who continued to discard you, and his wife who despite her own feelings was determined for you to take him from her. You were a mere human treading water in what felt like a vampire soap opera.

Lulling your head back against the soft pillows supporting you; you allowed yourself to drown, falling deeper and deeper into the sleep that consumed you. Tomorrow, you would get better answers—and you knew just where to get them. 

 *

 Bella Swan sat awkwardly beside you on the bleachers. She had gym class, but rolled her ankle; and you had a free period. Her chestnut hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and she held an ice pack to her right foot.

You watched her as she lowered her chocolate gaze. “Can Edward read your mind, too? Is it weird dating someone who can do that?”

She still didn’t look at you. “No, I’m an exception… For some reason.”

“Bella, c-can—I mean—do you think Edward would speak with me? I know he hates me, but-”

Her eyes met yours. “He doesn’t hate you, he’s just concerned for Alice. But I’ll talk to him and see if I can get him to meet you if you don’t mind telling me what this is about?”

Had Edward even bothered to mention it? “Do you know about the Jasper and Alice thing?” The face she gave you said she did, and then her eyes hardened. “After what Alice told me earlier, and what Jasper said to me last night, I need better context. Edward can read minds so maybe he could tell me what Alice and Jasper both think about everything to help me decide what to do with myself?”

Bella fumbled with the ice pack as she readjusted it on her swollen ankle. “I don’t know…”

“Please, Bella. Jasper was so hot and cold with me the other night, and the way Alice keeps looking at me… I just feel awful. I’ve wanted to be with Jasper for so long, but I never thought it would be like this. I never knew I was wishing for decades-long marriage to end just so I could get what I wanted. Please, Bella. This is insane. All I did was have a crush on a cute boy at school and suddenly I’m the catalyst for vampire divorce.” She tensed at your use of the v-word in such a public place, but you ignored her. “I’m not asking to pry into their entire lives—just the stuff that’s related to me. How truthful was Alice being about giving me her blessing—even if that blessing gave me the right to swoop in on her husband? How is Alice seeing us being together, if Jasper is so worked up and telling me he’ll never love me? I don’t want to embarrass anybody or cause any more harm than I already have. I just want clarity. That’s all. Is that too much to ask?”

Bella hesitated, her top teeth sinking slightly into her plump bottom lip. She clenched the towel wrapped around the ice pack. “It’s reasonable. Look, I’ll talk to Edward later and see what I can do. It’s no fun for the rest of us either, right now.”

You reached over and pulled her into a tight hug. “Thank you so much, Bella.” She pushed away from you, clutching her ankle and wincing in pain. “Sorry…”

 *

 The Cullens hadn’t been at school that day, meaning a full day without Jasper’s interventions. It was the first time since the moment you struck your deal with him that you had energy to spare. You could catch up on homework and pay attention to a movie and simply be without wanting to pass out from exhaustion. But being the glutton for punishment this whole scenario was turning you into, you called Jasper. He didn’t pick up. You tried again.

“(Y/N), I told you-” he started, but you cut through his deep voice with your own.

“I want to alter our arrangement. Can you come over?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“I’ll see you soon.” You hung up. The house was empty and silent, save for the sound of a leaky tap that still needed fixing. To distract yourself as you waited, you tidied up a bit. You washed the pile of dishes in the sink and wiped down the kitchen counters. You picked up the piles of clothes on the floor in your bedroom and actually put them away, folding each garment and telling yourself; he’ll be here after I fold this one. But you remained alone. You pulled your phone out from your pocket and dialled his number again, only to hear a message tone.

Tears pricked in your eyes as you understood he wasn’t coming—that he didn’t care about you or how his gift was affecting you. Surely Alice had been teasing you; dangling your hopes and dreams right in front of your face as payback for all the trouble you had caused her. She and Edward were probably laughing about it right now; laughing at the pathetic human who thought they had a chance. You took a shaky breath and grabbed your coat.

 *

 The inside of Bella’s house was cosy. You sat together in her lounge room with a cup of hot chocolate. Chief Swan wouldn’t be home for a few hours, and you couldn’t wait any longer.

“He said no, didn’t he?”

“Edward is… old-fashioned-”

You scoffed. “He thinks I’m immoral, then. I get it.” Your grip on the warm mug tightened. Bella’s sleeves were crunched up in her palms, and her inner debate about whether to continue speaking was clear on her face.

“But we’ve talked about what’s happening with you and he mentioned some things he heard.” She gave you a knowing look.

“Words… or thoughts?” Her lack of response gave you your answer. You put the mug on the coffee table and glanced around, your voice lowering into a whisper. “Is it safe to talk here? I appreciate what you’re doing, but I don’t want to ruin another relationship by involving myself.”

“They’re out hunting today. They’ll find out eventually, but nothing will happen. The Cullens are good, they don’t hurt people.” It wasn’t as though you thought Jasper was planning on killing you to protect his marriage. But you let her go on, dying to receive the intel you desperately needed. “We were driving home in my truck on the first day I transferred to your English class. I knew nothing at first, but when you started asking specific questions, I told Edward. He explained the situation to me—that by that point, you were on the path to discovery no matter what they did about it. I asked him if I could do anything to help, but he said it was useless. All of their energy had to be focused on making sure you accepted the truth instead of exposing them for what they are. Right as you figured it out, he told me Alice had a new vision that was split into two parts. While they were happy you wouldn’t do anything rash, the sight of you kissing Jasper-”

“Kissing-”

“-got them a little riled up at first.” She misread the look of astonishment on your face for one of fear. “Not at you, at him.”

“Jasper won’t have anything to do with me, though. How did we even get to that point?”

“Edward didn’t mention that, but said in passing how they both feel about it. Alice is devastated. Her entire world is crumbling, but she has enough grace and trust in her gift to let it be. She’s been thinking about leaving. There’s a ‘cousin coven’ in Alaska that she’s been contemplating staying with until things blow over. Jasper won’t let her go. No matter what she says to him, he refuses to leave her. He’s hell-bent on rejecting you -… sorry. But Edward said that when he suffocates your affection for him like you agreed, he isn’t happy. Jasper doesn’t enjoy doing it. Edward said that a part of Jasper likes that you like him.”

You couldn’t speak and only stared at Bella with an open mouth. Nothing he had done had showed that he liked your attention—even a tiny shred of it. Your blood boiled within your veins as you hardened your jaw and asked Bella through clenched teeth, “In what way?”

She looked at you, the alabaster skin on her forehead creasing with concern. “Edward didn’t elaborate. It could be reciprocation, but it could also be him just missing the attention? If I ask about it now, he’ll know what I’m doing so that’s all I can tell you at the moment.” She took a sip from her own hot chocolate, her long sleeves now wrinkled, and added, “It sounds like he’s conflicted.”

Your guilty heart skipped a beat as the words left Bella’s mouth. Images of Jasper Hale dipping you into a passionate kiss took over your mind, and you started feeling warmer. Perhaps you shouldn’t have doubted Alice’s gift right off the bat. What if it was going to happen? What if Jasper was only being harsh with you to stop himself from being too tender? You sculled your hot chocolate and slammed the mug back on the coffee table a little too hard; causing Bella to jump at your sudden action. You had to see Jasper again; and no matter how hard he tried to avoid you, you would make another meeting happen. You would ask him to tell you precisely what he was feeling, even if you needed to humiliate yourself once more to do it. 

So, you thanked Bella and rushed to your car. The sound of the roaring engine gave you a rush of adrenaline as you followed the roads of Forks—from memory—to the Cullens’ house. A thousand things were going through your mind, but you pushed them aside and pressed harder on the accelerator. As the lights and buildings morphed into a thick wall of trees, you could see the bright colours of the Cullens’ house peeking through the cedars. And waiting by the front of the property, arms crossed and fists clenched, was Jasper; whose eyes were burning holes through your skin.

*

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Pairing: kuroo tetsuro x reader

Word count: 3k

Tags: red string of fate au, historical au

Ramblings: part of the lost collab, all based on the prompt ‘only when you are lost does the red string of fate appear’ organised by the lovely @yacoka​​ who is a wonderful writer and an even better friend 😚 also a big thank you to remy for beta-ing <3

---

You stare in exasperation as the red string fades into sight, the familiar warmth wrapping back into existence around your finger. It was only visible when one of you was feeling lost, and you certainly knew where you were. Tetsuro was only meant to be coming home from town - how did he get lost? 

You pluck at the string.

Seriously?

An answering pull against your pinky. 

Shut up.

Rolling your eyes, you turn back to the horse in front of you.

“That man, eh?” You scrub the brush along a thick-boned leg, scrunching your face away from the cloud of dust that puffs out. “Probably one of the smartest people this side of the island, knows the stars like the back of his hand, but can’t even find his way across his own fields.” You huff, watching as the string disappears again. “The cows know their way home better than he does, honestly…” 

Bess rattles her head, mane flying, and you sigh. “Ahh, you’re right, I guess we love him anyway.”

“You guess?”

You start, twisting at his sudden presence. 

“Stop! Doing that!” You huck the brush at him and he ducks, grinning. 

“Hear that Bess?” he sings, sidling up to the horse and scratching her forehead as she noses at his pockets. “She loves me.”

“And I married him too,” you lament. “What was I thinking?”

“Something I ask myself every day,” he says softly, eyes alight. You mellow, as you always do for him, and wonder if you will ever get sick of that look. 

“How’s town?” You ask instead, snagging a new brush.

“Good. Got offered a job.”

“Oh, who with?”

“Nekomata.”

You hum. “Down at the docks?”

“Not... exactly." You flick a look up when he doesn't elaborate, only to find him determinedly pulling Bess' forelock into a crude braid. 

"And?" you prompt.

"He wants me as the navigator." He swallows, fingers still twisting in the coarse hair. "For an expedition.”

“Really?” You scrub at a particularly stubborn splatter of dried mud. "I thought he had given up on all that. What’s he planning?”

He doesn’t reply for another long moment. 

"Depends on how quick the ice melts." 

You tear your eyes away from your work; he looks wary. "But with what he mentioned to me, we’d be away… a year? Maybe longer?"

“Oh,” you breathe. Really, for a sailing expedition, that’s short. But it’s still a year. You're thinking of money, and supplies, and who will take over teaching his students while he’s gone, and he’ll definitely need a new coat, and oh that's such a long time-

“I don’t have to decide immediately.” You pull your gaze back into focus. He still looks nervous, but you know him - he might not always be the most expressive person, but he wears his passions with pride. And there are few things your Tetsuro loves more than the stars. 

“You should go."

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You bite your tongue and start sweeping the brush along Bess’ broad back again. It’s not till he gently pulls your hands to a stop you notice how they shake. 

“I don’t have to go,” he offers softly.

You sigh, not quite able to focus any higher than the hollow of his neck. “No. You should.”

His fingers are light under your chin, and you reluctantly let him draw your gaze up. 

“Are you sure?” 

And you are. Despite your reticence, you are; because at heart, he’s always longed to explore the world. You remember sitting with him in the summer, feet dangling in the creek and listening to his rambling dreams of travelling to the far corners of the world. He loves teaching - weaving stories from geography homework, gently coaching the younger kids through their sums - but you’ve caught him many a time just staring out at the sea, eyes unfocused and longing.

"I’m sure," you tell him with a genuine smile. "It just means I'm going to have to do all your chores while you're away."

He tsks, but there's already excitement building under the mock-glare. Giving Bess a final pat, he meanders back to the house. You listen to his cheery whistling and tell the pang in your heart he'll be fine. 

He always comes home.

--

“Have fun. Don’t kick Yaku overboard, OK?”

“What’s this, huh?” The string hums as he twirls a finger through it, his voice low and amused. He twists it into a bow around a lock of your hair, an achingly familiar action that has the string glowing brighter against your skin. “You can’t be lost without me if I haven’t left yet, sweetheart."

He frowns, and you etch the image into your memory - it will be months till you see that pout again. 

“Oh, hush you.” 

Eyes bright and fond, he grins down and pulls you into his chest. For once, you stop thinking about tomorrow and just enjoy this final moment with him; the gulls’ cries tearing across the sky, the winter sun across your back and stiff breeze sweeping through your skirts. He is constant and unshakable, heartbeat steady in your ear, his chin pressed against your hair.

You draw back and poke him in the cheek.

“You come home, you hear me?”

The string continues to flutter between you, dancing in the seaward breeze as he presses a sweet kiss to your lips.

“Always.”

--

The second plate stares back at you. 

Right. Of course. 

You press your lips together and return the other plate to the shelf for the third time this week. Your lonely plate looks pitifully small on the uneven table, and the red string that sinks down to drape across it only adds to the ache in your heart.

You grip the string tight and try not to cry.

--

The drumming rain is muffled as you duck under the barn’s eaves. Shaking the water from your eyes, you peel off your now sodden coat. In the flickering lantern light, you can see how the heifer is huffing, swollen belly already heaving.

Crooning to her, you run a tired hand over the heifer’s rough hide and crouch down.

You shove wet hair off your face and sigh. The late nights and bad weather were only exacerbating an already stressful time of year, and of course this had to be the year your entire herd was calving. You wearily draw a pail of water and tsk as you grab the last towel off the side of the stall - it seems tomorrow will have to be a washing day too.

There’s a wet nose. There’s also a tail.

“That’s… not right.” you mutter, stumped. 

It hits you a moment later - twins. She’s having twins.

“Ohh… uhh…” You know you can’t panic, but your thoughts just continue to speed up, desperately flicking through your memories because you know how to deal with a breech birth, but twins? Where do you even begin? There are two calves in there, and that's twice the number of things that could go wrong. Think. It’s only a few minutes over the hill to the Kagayama’s, maybe they-

The gentle tug at your hand startles you. The string is there, looped around one of the cow’s ears and floating out into the pouring night. Another tug comes, a little firmer this time. 

You suck in a breath.

You send him a grateful tug back and get to work.

It’s messy and stressful, and the deep ache in your arms will definitely be worse tomorrow, but there's a pile of knobby legs and liquid eyes in your lap that more than makes up for the pain. You snag the old towel off the straw and gently wipe the nose of the first calf before helping it struggle to its feet. The cow blinks around and lowes softly. You grin and quickly swipe at the other calf, blowing gently on its nose till it snorts.

Your eyes are heavy, and you are already compiling a list of the thousands of things to do tomorrow. But with pride singing through your tired bones, you are content to sit, half-wishing he was here with you to listen to the rain beat down on the tin roof and proudly watch the calves take their first, wobbling steps. 

--

“Endeavor."

“E-N-D...” Natsu scrunches her nose and you nod encouragingly, “E…”

The string appears. It’s sudden; not the usual fade-in of realization, but a tidal wave of colour that has it crashing into existence all at once.

“-A-V-O-R. Endeavor.”

You clear your throat, pushing past the lump. “Correct. Let’s have an early lunch everyone.”

The clatter of chairs is immediate, and you wait for all the kids to race out the door before sinking shakily back against the desk. You rub the string between your fingers - it’s hot and trembling, swaying drunkenly as if buffeted about by the wind.

You pull at it, questioning.

You pull at it again.

Again.

There is no reply but it stays, curling in the corners of your vision for the rest of the day.

--

The next morning it is still there. You bite your lip and bundle his old coat around you to go collect more firewood. 

--

Day four. You stare into reflected, apprehensive eyes for too long before shakily wrapping the everpresent string into a bow around your hair. For some reason, it doesn’t feel the same as when he does it.

--

Yachi reads you off your total and you freeze, hand clutched around the small bag of flour. She looks at you oddly as your hair falls free around your shoulders.

There is a soft tug against your finger, faded by distance and ringing with reassurance, as the string finally, finally disappears from sight after the longest eight days of your life.

“Is everything OK?” she asks, mystified.

You dash the tears and drop the coins into her hand with a smile.

“Everything is perfect.”

--

The string fades in for the third time today and you snort. You’d like to imagine you can feel his annoyance even halfway across the world.

You give it a sharp tug for good measure.

Lost again, huh? 

He pulls grumpily back, and you bite back a giggle.

“How’s that pain-in-the-ass husband of yours doing?” Ukai Jr. asks from behind the bar.

The string bleeds away.

You think of a ship navigating the perilous ice, of unknowable depths and old sailor's tales, of the maps you watched him plot that stretch into expanses of blank parchment.

You think of jokes thrown across candle stubs and empty plates, of a crew that have become more of a family than either of you have ever had.

You think of the furrow he gets between his brows when he’s puzzling something over, his poorly hidden glee at the sight of the open sea.

The string fades in again, and there’s a pull from his end before you can do anything.

Don’t.

You grin. “He’s doing just fine.”

--

You wake to birdsongs. The sun is just peeking over the hills, the red string curled quietly on his pillow. You send three tugs, watch the string ripple out the window and imagine it stretching out, out, out across the seas to him.

Today was usually a day just for the two of you; no chores, no work. Just sunshine and bad jokes and the simple enjoyment of being together. One time he had pulled you along to the neighbouring town's county fair. Last year, you had taken him to the waterfall for lunch.

It was meant to be his choice this year.

You twine the string around your fingers as you wait. It glows softly in the morning light, a physical manifestation of how deeply lost you feel on this special day. He's not gone; he's still here in the scuffed shoes tucked under the bed, in his notes piled high on the desk, but they're not quite the same as hearing his hisses from the kitchen, or being able to sink into warm arms at the end of a rough day.

His returning tugs are delayed, aching and soft - one, two, three.

Sighing, you force yourself out of bed - the cows aren’t going to feed themselves.

Happy anniversary, love.

--

Most days the string isn't visible at all. And that's fine. Really, it is. It means he's not lost, and no news is good news, right?

Anyway, you’ve become quite content in your own company. He’s been gone long enough that you’ve found your solo rhythm and it's by no means easy, but you manage to keep busy enough.

And yet, the string is a double-edged sword - a reassuring and tangible connection between the two of you, but one that fills you with longing heartache all the same. There are days when you so keenly feel his absence; days of no special importance, but days where his company would just make the monotony more interesting. The mundane days, where you find yourself wanting a hug and instead having to settle for imagining the blur of red in your periphery.

You can lose minutes simply staring at your hand, trying to will the string back into colour. Wishful thinking isn’t something you can afford to indulge too often, but some days, if you focus hard enough, you think you can feel the invisible string pressing around your finger. 

Some days, wishful thinking is all that keeps you going.

--

“Hello, sorry.” You ignore the cheeky pull of the red string. He knows how you hate admitting you need help. “I’m a bit lost. Do you know where the blacksmith is?”

The man points up the road, explaining you need to go up past the post office and take a - twitch goes the string - and then follow the path that - another pull - and you should be there. Oh, but don’t - tug - because that will take you out of town.

You bite your tongue and thank the man, fond exasperation simmering in your chest. You might desperately miss him and his stupid antics, but you had almost forgotten how relentless his needling could be. 

As you lead Bess away, you pull sharply on the string. Much to your dismay, it doesn’t deter him in the slightest - an incessant barrage of tugs pull against your pinky, singing with his amusement from half a world away. Huffing out a sigh, you carefully flip the string around your hand. It’s smooth in your grip as you wind it around your palm and close your fingers over it-

And yank the string sideways.

Silence.

A single, pouting yank back.

Pushing down the smile tugging at your lips, you stop infront of the woman sweeping the front step of the post office.

“Hello, sorry. I’m a bit lost. Do you know where the blacksmith is?”

--

A laugh is pulled from you, glee ringing through the air. Hinata’s hand is sweaty in yours, and you grip it tighter as you swing round and round to the music echoing across the field. The wedding party is still holding strong, even this late into the night, and the chatter and music is rvight at home in tonight’s warm summer breeze. 

The song ends to cheers and you yell with them, high, unfiltered joy singing through your body. You drop into a chair, watching Hinata pull a giggling Natsu off the sidelines and head back out as the band striking up another well-loved tune.

The ever-present twinge of sea salt mixes with the sweet scent of the apple blossoms floating over from the orchard and you are content. The food was fresh and plentiful, Kiyoko looked gorgeous. And, you think smugly, Suga had cried before Tanaka did, so now Kinoshita owed you a beer. 

The music slows, and your finger aches at the sight of everyone else partnering up. You had promised yourself you weren’t going to let memories overshadow your fun tonight. There’s too much love around for you to fully feel his absence anyway, but you still catch yourself missing him above the crowd, searching for the wink he’d send across the room before returning to his own conversations.

Someone clears their throat. The string curls and sways between bodies as Takeda smiles down at you, eyes crinkled in understanding. 

“May I have this dance?”

--

You push hurriedly through the crowd, ducking between market stalls and wagons. There’s no string to follow, but you don’t need it to find him today. Asahi scrambles for the bolts of cloth you knock into and Suga yells something that gets stolen by the wind as you continue to run heedlessly towards the docks. 

Lev is on the dock already, only just visible through the small crowd gathering. Yaku yells directions from the ship, and you can see Shibayama sitting up on the boom, Kai pulling the jib down, so where is-

There.

He’s talking with Nekomata, gesturing up at the mast. You know it’s probably important, that there are things to be done on the ship before the crew can leave, but he’s been gone 402 days and you’re calling his name before you can stop yourself.

He twists around, and for the first time in over a year you watch his face split wide. The crowd parts for you as you’re darting forward and he vaults over the side of the ship. 

There are yells and whistles behind him but you couldn’t care less as you are swept into a tight spin, stumbling with him as you laugh. His salt-crusted shirt is coarse under your fingers, and when he kisses you he tastes like the sea; like salt-spray and dry rations and freedom. 

As soon as your hands find his cheeks you pull back sharply. There's a scar, a puckered pink line that cuts across his cheek and up into his hairline. He watches you carefully as you trace it with a feather-light touch.

“I thought I told you to have fun,” you admonish gently. 

“Who said I didn’t?”

You tsk. “What am I going to do with you?”

He grins, wilder than you remember, twisted a little by the scar, but full of familiar trouble. “Kiss me again, hopefully.” 

(How you’ve missed that grin.)

“Can’t imagine why I’d do a silly thing like that,” you say, even as you press your own grin to his.

Maybe he’s still a little wobbly on his feet, and he’s definitely thinner than when he left, but when he twines your hands together - no string in sight - your heart settles. 

He’s home, and you can’t really ask for anything more.