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luveline · 3 years

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a special friend, part two [Fred Weasley, George Weasley x reader]

tags: reader-insert, platonic relationships, friendship, can be read as romantic for either or both, hurt/comfort, mental health issues, implied/referenced self-harm, dissociation, quiet reader, shy reader, sad reader

relationships: fred weasley x reader, george weasley x reader

wordcount: 3.2k

read part one here

The common room was always so clean. The house-elves must work themselves half to death with effort, as you never saw a hair or speck of dust where there ought not to be one. The small refreshment table filled and refilled through every new day and the fireplace was always roaring on cold winter nights. It was especially cold that evening, and so the members of Gryffindor house benefited from a crackling fire and hot chocolate coming out of the ears.

You basked in the warmth of the flame, sitting cross-legged before it. A cup of hot chocolate cooled in between your hands, which were both laden with bandaids and germolene. Fred and George’s orders, of course. You were not to scratch, bite or mess in any detrimental way with your hands, arms or skin. If you did, you were to report to them for immediate bandaging.

At first, they’d simply been spelling each wound away. This had an opposite effect, as the freshly healed skin was perfect for picking whenever your mood turned - which was often. You found yourself blinded and basked in the light of being cared for by others, and although you may have preferred complete autonomy over your own body, you couldn’t say you minded the attentiveness of the twins. They’d made it their personal mission to prevent any self-harm, accidental or purposeful. You weren’t sure you even knew the difference half the time.

A quiet had settled over the room. It seemed as though each red and gold student was content to breathe in the smell of chestnut and pine in peaceful, companionable silence. You found yourself smiling kindly at each person who looked your way. You couldn’t imagine having done that before you had become acquainted with the twins.

Acquainted was a word you used to protect yourself. Friendly was too confident, too firm. You sometimes dreamt of horror stories where you, confident and comfortable, admitted how much you cared for them. In these dreams, they laughed in your face. Poked fun at your hope.

Of course, Fred and George weren’t cruel. If they felt that way, they certainly wouldn’t rub it in your face or make you feel embarrassed about it. But some shame never went away, and you carried it like an ever-burning torch.

Despite the pleasant warmth of the room, chills racked your spine at the thought. You pushed it from your head, attempting to think of anything else. You traced a pattern through the braided strands of the rug you were lazing upon, first the flames of a bonfire towering ten feet tall, then a mirror of the powdered sugar landscape outside.

Two warm bodies settled in the carpet on either side of you. A long arm wrapped around your shoulders confidently. The floral scent of your perfume mingled with the strong scent of burning caramel and something woody, the signature fragrance of the Weasley twins.

George moved first, plonking a stuffed toy into your lap. He positioned the neck carefully so that the teddy bear was sat as comfortable as you were.

“For you,” said Fred.

“An early Christmas gift,” George added.

The bear was spotted unusually like some sort of hybrid creature. You wondered where they could possibly have acquired such an artefact.

“We saw him and thought of you,” they said together.

That was rich. And maybe correct. After all, it was a weird looking plushie and you weren’t exactly renowned for your normality. You didn’t say much, simply handing off your cold drink to George without so much as a sideways glance and brought the bear to your face. You grazed your nose against its brown stomach and inhaled, breathing in its clean scent.

Both twins were used to the general quietness that came with your presence and didn’t pressure any response. You knew you should’ve said thank you, or even smiled gratefully, but you just couldn’t make your mouth move the way you wanted. You placed your hand on each brothers leg and applied the barest amount of pressure, hoping it showed gratitude.

“Well, I’m starving.”

“I’m so glad you said so, my brother.”

“Yes, I’m craving something savory, Gred.”

“Something juicy, Forge.”

“Such as?”

You looked between them like a muggle attending a tennis match, back and forth and back and forth. They ran circles around you for their own enjoyment, you assumed, but maybe also to make you feel more included.

“Y/N, fancy a trek to the kitchens?”

Before you could say no, or yes, or make up your mind and decide what it was you wanted to do, your stomach growled. Fred grinned wickedly.

They ushered you out of the portrait hole and down the stairs without preamble, flanking your sides like bodyguards. You didn’t mind, taking time to smile at the castle ghosts and portraits as you went.

The twins shot each other looks when they thought you couldn’t see. One said, how do you think she is? Another said, I think she’s however you think she is. Both said, she seems okay today.

It would feel a little patronizing if it weren’t so foreign - to have people care about your well-being so deeply they made changes to their day to see you and went out of their way to make you feel good; you’d find it condescending if it wasn’t so delightful.

That is to say, you felt conflicted. Happy that somebody cared, ashamed that they also felt concerned. They worried over everything these days, what you ate and what classes you had and oh, ghostie, do you need help with that? Y/N, sweetheart, let me carry that for you, lest your arms grow too tired.

It was… nice. It was nice, even if it was painful. Sometimes, it reminded you why you didn’t allow yourself the pleasure of friendship in the first place.

You hummed to yourself. Making sound had become a little easier. You weren’t inclined to say a whole lot, but allowing yourself to be louder, to take up space, had come easier the longer you spent with them. Neither Fred nor George minded if you huffed after too many stairs or if you clicked gobstones together at the foot of their beds.

The song was one of those cheesy Christmas numbers you’d heard on the radio. It was warm and comforting, bringing tears to your eyes if you thought about it too much. George slipped into song with you easily, humming much more loudly and obnoxiously. Fred just grinned to himself, keeping dutiful watch of the corridors.

You bubbled like a shaken can of coke by the time you arrived at the painting that enclosed the kitchen doorway, feeling too happy for your own good. Despite feeling very hungry, not a lick of fatigue or unhappiness tinged your mood, though the fuzzy numbness of every day threatened your well-being if you stopped to think too long.

The door swung open obediently after your half-hearted tickle insisted upon by the boys.

“What do you feel like, Y/N, sweet or savoury? There’s bound to be something you’ll fancy,” George said.

You held in a grimace. There were lots of things you wanted to try, the kitchens smelled like so many amazing things. The cloying smells of jam and treacle and custard, the hearty scents of gravy and roast dinner. It was too bad, then, that most everything you ate tasted stale. For years, your tastebuds had been slacking. During your worst days, food held no taste at all, resulting in your decreased appetite.

A tingling began in your fingers. You didn’t know what to say, or how to say it, how to convey that you didn’t really feel up to anything at all. You knew they would protest as they always did when you didn’t eat.

“Bread,” you managed. Bread was a safe choice. Dense enough to feel filling, easy to keep down, and bland to begin with.

Both boys were frowning but trying not to at your choice.

George moved forward, catching the attention of a harrowed looking house elf. They conversed with familiarity and soon you were being beckoned to a table that was relatively clear. Within minutes you were surrounded by bread, crusty rolls and sliced sourdough.

George casually nudged a bowl of tomato soup in your direction.

The surface shined with grease. It even had a swirl of cream and a sprig of basil afloat.

He looked at you, eyes pleading.

“You too,” you said.

This appeased him. The boys sat across from you with their own bowls, eating in the horrific way that teenage boys do. By the time they’d finished, you’d managed half of your own meal and two slices of bread. The nausea you experienced from just existing was starting to build, accompanied by the disappointment of your bland meal. You’d hoped an improved mood would help your appetite, but you still felt unsatisfied.

The boys grabbed a passing plate of tarts and ice cream.

Your good mood was wearing thin. You bit down on the tip of your thumb and stared at the grain of the table.

You bit down harder.

“Hey. Hey! Don’t do that,” Fred said, reaching forward as if to grab your hand. You pushed it under the table.

George pushed the plate of confectionary closer to you. “Chew on one of these instead, hm?”

You took it all back - this was patronising. Lovely and thoughtful and very, excruciatingly patronising.

You didn’t want to say no, or push it away, or eat anything else or even laugh it off. You wanted to do nothing. You lay your head down on the table, closing your eyes. You caught a murmur or two between them, though you couldn’t make out the words with your ear pressed so hard against the wood and the other covered by your falling hair. The table was smooth and cool under your skin.

A chair scraped against the floor. Footsteps. A broad hand against your back.

“You’re like a steam train running out of coal sometimes.”

You knew he was hoping for a response, a joke, a sign you’d been cheered up.

Through slow blinks, you could make out his face. Endlessly amused and a little sad, framed by the candlelight. He was beautiful, you thought absently. They were both beautiful.

“You okay?” he said quietly.

“Mm,”

“Mm? Is mm a yes or a no?”

“Mm,”

“Alright,” he said, rubbing a soothing path up between your shoulder blades and down again. It would’ve been dizzying if you could think straight, it made the numbness a little woozy. You preened beneath his touch like a pleased cat, feeling the unhappiness melt just a little.

It was crazy how affection could make you feel better, even if it didn’t always solve the problem.

Embarrassed, you mumbled, “you’re going to kill me.”

Fred smiled. “How so?”

“You’re fattening me up like a lamb to slaughter.”

He didn’t quite laugh, huffing through his nose. He really was very handsome up close. His hair was curling at just below his ears, a lush auburn colour that complemented his pale, freckle adorned skin. His eyes were a heart-melting brown so that his pupils were lost. The look he gave you was searing like he knew exactly what you were thinking about him. Your ears were tinged with heat, cheeks filling with colour.

He retracted his hand.

“Wrap some of those up, Georgie. Ghostie needs her bed.”

“It shall be done, brother mine!”

You smiled despite yourself.

For your birthday, the twins had gifted you a simple necklace. The chain was silver, reaching to just below your collar bone. It had no charm or jewel. It was perfect.

It helped you sometimes when you felt out of it to run it between two fingers or tug it gently from left to right, feeling the chain links rolling behind your neck.

You’d tried that, among every other coping mechanism drilled into your head by George and Fred over the past few weeks. You drew circles were you wanted to scratch, put plasters over fingertips you wanted to pick at. You took big breaths and did the stretches George insisted on. You even tried getting a full night’s sleep - nothing worked.

It filled you with guilt. You felt as though you were letting them both down by struggling.

You stared out the window of the dormitory at the sky, moonlight spilling onto your skin and staining your clothes a gauzy silver. You’d read once that sometimes when the planets were in rotation, you could see them as though they were as close as the moon.

This didn’t seem right to you. How could Mars seem so close? It was an optical illusion. The planets revolved around the sun, but humans had once thought they revolved around Earth instead.

It must’ve been a very strange experience to realise you weren’t as important as you thought. The Earth was just the Earth, spinning and wobbling its path through space.

You shook your head, feeling lost. It was ridiculous to project your feelings on the solar system. But still, you couldn’t help but feel like, despite its inhabitants and its systems, the Earth was so lonely.

Your necklace began to grow cold until it was almost like ice against your skin. One of the twins, or maybe both, had charmed it to change temperature. Cold usually meant, ‘Ghostie, you awake?’

You cringed against the sensation. Why couldn’t they booty call you like normal young men, throwing stones at your window with a boom box? Or, for merlin’s sake, an owl?

You grumbled to yourself, throwing the fleece blanket from your body. You were hardly dressed for company in knickers and a tank top, so you threw on a grey zip-up jacket and a pair of pyjama shorts that were hardly any better than the knickers. Luckily the jacket hung past the shorts. You wanted to care that you were dressed scantily, really, but the boys wouldn’t care and you didn’t have it in you to find something else.

You trekked down the stairs, your trainer socks slippery against the well-worn wood. Fred stretched languidly in front of the fireplace, a pack of exploding snap cards and a mountain of chocolate frogs beside him whilst George was sitting much more straight-backed on the sofa.

“I’m cold,” you said, announcing your arrival. The redheads turned to look at you over their shoulders. Fred rolled his eyes at you and flicked his wand. The necklace slowly heated until it was pleasantly warm against your collarbones.

You clambered over the back of the sofa with little grace, folding your knees underneath you and leaning heavily against George’s arm. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

“If I were a lesser man, I’d ask where your bottoms were, Y/L/N,” said Fred, shuffling the cards dexterously.

You raised your jacket wordlessly, exposing your bottoms.

“Wouldn’t you know, they were there the whole time.”

“You assumed the same as me, George.”

George didn’t reply, though his expression said he was similarly embarrassed.

“And do you always let girls you presume to be half-naked climb all over you?” you asked.

“So talkative,” George chastened.

“Don’t change the subject! I’m interested in the answer,” said Fred.

“Oh shove off! You insufferable tyrants.”

Ah, so he knows how it feels now, you thought. You looked up into his face, the line of his jaw.

You looked down at your legs, feeling fatigued. Smooth stretches of skin and fine hair interrupted only by thin white lines. The low light made them almost impossible to see. They shined like silver when you moved, caught by the light of a nearby candle. They felt a lifetime away now when a young you had used pins and quills and little carving knives to punish yourself for bad behaviour.

You traced a slightly thicker one with a pointed fingernail. You pushed it nastily into the scar, but it didn’t hurt.

You sighed.

Fred and George were half arguing about something you didn’t catch, Fred through a mouthful of chocolate.

It was hard, always being miserable. People often criticized the moody for ruining the mood, but it wasn’t as if you could choose how to be. You wanted to wake each day and be happy and entertaining and absurdly good-natured, like the twins. It was an abject cruelty, then, that every day you woke up and felt the immeasurable dread of continuing on another day. Not even magic could help you with that.

You rejected Fred’s offer to play, happy to sit and watch the boys play. You let yourself slide into the space George had vacated, curling into a tight ball. Your stomach hurt.

Godric, there was always something fucking wrong with you.

You were frustrated. The boys could tell. Their game of snap was stretched thin, and you knew it was your fault. You wrinkled your nose at the smell of singed hair, restless. You squirmed against the warm leather under your skin, feeling sticky and out of sorts.

You closed your eyes against the aching and slept.

You woke up crying.

Fred shifted in his sleep. He was leaning against your legs, his hair and face smushed into the leather beneath you. George was facedown in the carpet. You pressed a hand to your mouth to muffle any sound.

The clock on the wall read 4 minutes past 4 o’clock in the morning. You’d only managed an hour and a half of sleep.

You couldn’t remember what you’d been dreaming. Maybe somewhere familiar. Faces you recognized. It didn’t matter, only the feeling of being crushed by the air. You reached out without thinking, grabbing Fred’s shoulder.

He roused gracelessly, blinking through squinted eyes at you. A hard sob rocked you to the core, the feeling of breathlessness sinking deep into your chest.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurting?”

You couldn’t answer. You grasped for his arm, begging him to do something, to save you. You felt as though you were going to run out of air.

“Hey, you’re alright. You’re okay. Let’s breathe, should we? Breathe with me.” He grabbed the hand you’d pushed over your mouth and brought it to his chest. You could feel him take a huge inhale and you tried your best to replicate it.

“Good! That’s good. You’re doing so well.” Another big breath, a long exhale.

“You feel that? The leather under you.” He grabbed your free hand and put it on the seat. “Feels weird, huh? Dimples and wrinkles.” He dragged your hand over the texture repeatedly.

A big breath.

Eventually, your breathing returned. The crying stayed.

“Don’t cry, ghost.”

You frowned. It was odd to be looking down at Fred instead of up. He pressed your hand tighter to his chest.

“Bad dream?”

“Don’t remember,” you whispered.

“It was just a dream. You’re okay. I promise.”

George snored. Fred rolled his eyes. You laughed through the tears, blinking the last of them away.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll be here.”

You knew he was telling the truth.

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leggerefiore · 3 years

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Let's say the Subway Bosses had known reader for a while. One day they take them aside and say something like "I've kept my feeling to myself for so long, but I can't take it anymore. The thought of you with someone else makes my chest ache!" Maybe they even tear up a little...How would they react? What can I say I love stories about pining!

A bitter, cold feeling ate at your heart. A feral, brutal animal to sink its teeth into your mind and never to free you from the grasp of its maw. You watched in discontentment while the brother chatted with an obvious fan. He was not that dumb, assuredly the hat made it obvious. Their giggles loud at the most basic of phrases from the Subway Boss. Everything was growing to become too much. Everyone loved him as much as you did, it seemed.

You felt closer to them than any of the people who spoke with them, however. You were the twin's childhood friend from back in Anville Town. Days back then were wildly different from now. It was you and the brother's wandering around the small town with strong curiosity. Often, you stop by the rail yard and investigate whatever locomotive had stopped I'm for repairs. The twins began naming facts and features about the trains, one following the other in perfect synchrony. They were not Subway Boss Ingo and Emmet at the time, but rather those weird twins whose obsession for trains was uncomfortable and annoying. You loved their passion despite the popular position in your hometown.

▲Ingo▼

His eyes closed, and he nodded his head politely to the commuter. It sparked a fireworks worth of envy right through your veins. You had loved him for as long as you could remember. Ingo caught you attempting to rush into tall grass to catch your first pokemon. He nagged you about safety before handing you his Litwick to borrow. You almost cried from his kindness and thanked him over a thousand times. He just shook his head. In your teenage years, the older twin often found himself with people leaving him love letters and unexpected confessions. Once, you dared write one anonymously. He never mentioned yours like he had the others to you. You spent an entire afternoon bawling your eyes out over the unrequited love. It must have been dreadfully terrible. Even now, as adults, you could only stare as other people attempted to sweep him off his feet. Perhaps, it was your passive nature that caused him to overlook you as a partner. A spontaneous action sparked, and you called for Ingo's attention. His bright, chrome eyes glanced at your waving hand. A polite excuse was given as he wondered what you needed him for. Upon arriving in your grabbing range, you pulled him along to somewhere more isolated. If this went badly, you at least wanted a lonesome place to mourn your feelings.

“Ingo…” You began while averting your sight to the tiled floor of the station. It was harder to speak the actual words than to think of them. He hummed at you, “Yes? What's wrong?” His voice held genuine concern, but you still felt negatively. Tears stung the rims of your eyes as you continued, “I've kept this to myself since we were kids…” The Subway Boss noticed your mood shift and a placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I-I love you! Seeing you with all those people and fans, it just hurts to think about!” You blurted it all out at a volume that would make your friend blush. Embarrassed, you shoved his hand away and got ready to run away. Instead, Ingo pulled you in for a warm, tender hug; his hand stroked your hair lightly. You unconsciously buried your face in his shoulder. “There's no need to cry,” his tone carried an affectionate lilt, “I love you, as well. I have since you caught your first Pokemon.” He gazed down at you with a loving expression spiting his frown. “That battle afterwards and how you beat me. I think it's part of the reason I wanted to become such a strong trainer,” Ingo's face inched closer to your own.

Eyes closed together as an amorous, chaste kiss was pressed to your lips. Your arms curled along his neck. His forehead rested against yours as you each enjoyed the closeness of your bodies and warmth emitted.

▽Emmet△

Arms were wrapped around the fan as they grew a strong blush. It was no secret Emmet was the affectionate type. Hugs were given out if asked for, and he would hold your hand if you were nervous. When you were younger, he was your first opponent in battle. The young train enthusiast was merciless against you. Of course, being a small child and having your friend get way too competitive led, naturally, to you bursting into tears. Emmet rushed over at your sudden emotional display, leaving his poor Tynamo out, and squeezed you to his body. The hug was relatively uncomfortable, but the sudden contact helped alleviate the sting of losing. You think that was when it started; years of attempting to (and failing to) confess. During your teenage years, someone had thought to bully you for a feature you had become malcontent with. This went on for a month or two before Emmet learnt of your situation. Reassurances were given that you were his one of best friends, and that poor bully was subjected to Emmet's wrath in a pokemon battle.

Your feelings were never spoken to him. You felt unworthy to be with him. Even when Emmet had been viewed as a creepy train-obsessed twin, you felt beneath his surging potential. It stung your being as you watched the fan hug him back. You were not anything truly special to him, were you? The Subway Boss's gaze landed on you, and he waved you over. Shaking your head at him, you walked to a more secluded area of the station to mope around. A piece of trash was kicked around by your foot as your emotions ran wild. Sliding to the floor, you buried your face into your knees. Then, silently, you cried. People's footsteps echoed distantly, but no one approach you. Moments passed with that stasis. That was until you heard someone sit beside you. An arm looped around your shoulders and pulled you in close, “tell me what's wrong. I will fix it.” Emmet cared about you, just not in the way you wanted. “It aches when I see you with other people,” you gave no context, afraid to say too much. You were pulled even closer, your head lying right above his heart. His pulse was steady and comforting. It almost felt too perfect when the words left you with little mind, “I love you, Emmet; I have for so long.” A kiss was pressed onto your head. His hand gently rubbed at your shoulder. “I've loved you since we first met,” he admits with a rosé pink across his cheeks. “I loved how you smiled and carried yourself. I still do. All I want is for you to smile.”

His lips rested against your own. You both refused to part until air had become a concern. His grin held a fondness and deep affection that made your heart turn in a different way. The corners of your mouth twitched upward, and he absolutely glowed with elation.

#ingo x reader #emmet x reader #pokemon x reader #ingo/reader #emmet/reader #pokemon ingo x reader #pokemon emmet x reader

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letarasstuff · 3 years

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Unbreakable Bond

(A/N): This is based on this post and this tiktok

Summary: A big age gap between Aaron's children doesn't have to mean that they are unable to form a strong bond

Warnings: Mentions of Haley's death and failed relationships

Wordcount: 1.8k

✨Masterlist✨

_________________________________

His life took turns Aaron never expected. It’s not the “Oh, mh, well that was unexpected”-type of turns, I talk about the “God played Cards Against Humanity with angels and decided to make it happen for someone”-type. But looking back he would not want to change a thing.

After Haley and Beth he was convinced that God, the Universe, something out there shared the opinion that romantic love isn’t the right thing for him and Aaron accepted that fact. Even more when he and Jack went into witness protection. I mean, when you are worried about the life of your family being in danger because of a stalker, you don’t think about the beautiful neighbor, who lives next door, right? Right?

Well, without going into too much detail, Hotch did think about her and she about him and vice versa. Everything went good until Aaron received the message that the team found the stalker and that it was safe to come back. He decided to come clean to his girlfriend. They talked about the possibility of moving back to Quantico.

In the end they decided in favor of the move, the final argument was the surprising announcement of her being pregnant. Hotch wants to raise their youngest where his and Jack’s roots are located. But he decides against taking a position at the BAU, instead taking a desk job in order to be more at home. He also has the opportunity to work from home after little (Y/N) was born and continues to do so until she is old enough to go to Kindergarten. Even then he takes two days the week where he stays home. Aaron learned from his decisions and mistakes he made in the past and wants to live up to them and be a better father and husband than before.

And Hotch keeps it to this day, six years later. It’s (Y/N)’s first day of school, while Jack just graduated high school and goes off to college in a few weeks. Even though they have an age gap from twelve and a half years, their parents are sure there are no other siblings with such a strong bond.

Ever since his baby sister’s birth Jack is her biggest supporter, protector and friend. Her first word was his name, though it was more of a “ACK!”, but that’s the best nickname he ever got. As soon as (Y/N) was old enough to comprehend the concept of movies, he introduced her to Star Wars. Since then lightsaber wars out of cardboard pipes are not uncommon. Last Halloween they even dressed up as Chewbakka and Han Solo. You get three guesses on who was who.

“JACK!” (Y/N) runs into her big brother’s room with an excited expression on her face. “Daddy promised to buy me a real lightsaber after I read ten books! With lights and sounds and all! Isn’t that cool?” Jack smiles. Aaron did a similar thing with him. For a certain amount of books he got a reward they discussed beforehand. This way he felt motivated to read and improved writing and reading skills.

“This is awesome. I think that means we have to go book shopping together, what do you think?” (Y/N) is not only the cool kid that has an older brother, she is also the cool kid, whose older brother has a drivers license, a car and a part time job. She nods with big eyes, speechless, because the offer sounds like heaven to her. Getting books and one on one time with Jack after he was really busy with school for weeks? This has to be heaven.

“Ok, then you put your outside clothes on and I’ll tell Dad about our plan.” At that the little girl rushes to her room, not wanting to waste any more time. Jack makes his way down to the kitchen, where Aaron wipes the table from lunch down.

“Dad, I take (Y/N) to this bookstore in DC and we’ll probably go eat ice cream after that. Is that alright?” Hotch looks up at his son. It still feels like yesterday as he told Haley that Gideon is a big no as a baby name. Now he is all grown up and just a few weeks away from the next big chapter in his life.

“Of course, just let me get my wall-” Jack cuts him off. “No need, I want to use this as a kind of goodbye thing. At least until Thanksgiving.” Aaron knows what he means. It’s his last day before he goes off to college and just a couple more until the first classes begin. The family still hasn’t told their youngest exactly what’s going on. Else she would refuse to go to school and go on with her day, insisting on using all the time they have until Jack drives off.

Two hours later the siblings leave the bookstore, both of them having a bag in their hands. Of course Jack's heavier, but both he and the cashier assured (Y/N) that they lift the same amount of weight.

“Uncle Spence will be excited when I tell him that I read Harry Potter, he told me so many good things about it”, the girl gushes. Jack nods, indicating that he is listening. Of course they also picked books that are not that advanced. Still, no sister of his shall grow up without knowing the beauty of the wizarding world. Also, secretly he is hoping for her to turn out as nerdy as he is so they get more things to talk about. His next step is superheroes, especially the Marvel ones.

They converse until they get to an ice cream parlor and order both their usuals. “Do you think you are ready for me to tell you something important?” The older one asks after they sit down at a table. (Y/N) nods, confusion taking over her face.

“Uhm, you know how I graduated from high school? I’m done with school, but I want to get a degree, but for that I have to go to college. It’s pretty far away so I can’t come home for a few months. But I’m back home when Thanksgiving is and also for Christmas.” It doesn’t matter what Jack says, a sad frown has formed on the little one’s face. “Oh. And after Christmas, will you leave again?” He nods and explains when he is off from college and when not.

“We can always skype and write letters. How does that sound? And when you get your first phone, we can even text.” That (Y/N) lights up a bit. For her first year of school she got a stationary set and is eager to use it to this day.

“I’m going to miss you so much”, she says hugging her big brother. Jack pats her back. “I’ll miss you, too.”

The goodbye the next day is a heartfelt matter. Everybody cries, especially (Y/N). She can’t fathom a scenario where her brother isn’t there for her all the time.

The following weeks are also hard for the family. The youngest refuses to sleep alone for the first three days after Jack’s leave. She is more closed off and mainly just does her school work or reads the books he bought for her. By the time Thanksgiving is only away for another two weeks, (Y/N) has read through all of them at least two times.

Her father already ordered the lightsaber he promised her. Unfortunately shipping takes several months, so the little girl still has to wait patiently for her reward to arrive. In the meantime she works on getting the next and she is already pretty close to the comic book collection she wants.

“Sweetheart, can you set the table, please? Your Mom will be here soon from grocery shopping and she will need help getting them from the car into the house”, Hotch calls for his daughter while stirring in a pot.

The little girl nods, putting her stationary set and pens aside to do as her father asked. She is in the middle of answering her brother’s last letter, telling him that she is now the one that usually has to read aloud for the class because of her advanced skill for a first grader.

Just as she sets the last piece of silverware down the doorbell rings. “Sweetie, can you please open it? This should be your mother.” Happily (Y/N) runs up and turns the door knob. Over the last few months she hit a small growing spurt and is finally tall enough to reach it without standing on her tippy toes.

“Mo-” She nearly chokes on her own saliva. The one at the door is definitely not her mother. “JACK!” (Y/N) runs up to him and jumps onto his leg. “Hey Princess. I thought now that you read your books, we need to hold the most amazing lightsaber fight in history.” With a mischievous smile he pulls two from his back, giving one to his baby sister.

It is the most epic fight in history between an elementary schooler and a college boy. They can only be stopped by their parents announcing that it is a tie between both of them and that they have to sit down, else the food gets cold.

The following weeks mostly consist of (Y/N)’s joyous laughs and cuddling with her big brother. She even insists on him sleeping with her in her much smaller bed. On his last night before going back to college, the little girl turns to him in the middle of watching her favorite movie in the living room.

“Do you promise not to forget me when you are away? Because I alway think about you and tell my friends so much about you. I told them you are a hero, my hero, just like Daddy. They wanna meet you because of that.” Jack has to hold back tears at her statement.

“I also think of you so much. All of my friends at college are pretty jealous of me having such a sweet baby sister. Maybe one time you can visit me and I can introduce you to them.” The thought of that makes (Y/N) smile and is a little consolation to the thought of her brother leaving again.

Aaron watches the interaction going down, happy to see the strong bond between his children, despite their age gap. This is nothing like he and Sean were and that is a relief for him and the worries he had in the beginning. It is a sign that he did do some things right as a father.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos @jswessie187

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner

#aaron hotch x child!reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x daughter!reader #aaron hotchner x daughter!reader #aaron hotchner x child!reader #jack hotchner #jack hotchner x sister!reader #jack hotchner x reader #x daughter!reader #x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotch #x child!reader

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ekaterinatepes · 3 years

Text

Nothing but the Best

Author’s note: hello my dears! Sorry for not updating the past few days. I travel a lot for work and the circumstances lately made it difficult for me to update as much as I wanted. Although I did get enough inspiration to write this chapter. I come back to you with some juicy lemony goodness ;)

Minors DNI

Warning: NSFW content, mildly non con at the beginning, emotional sex, hurt, comfort and angst.

Blinding jealousy was the only thing that could describe how Satoru felt. Boiling in his blood, licking flames of rage through his body.

Betrayal… his best friend, holding his wife’s hand as he walked her back home. Not only that! Suguru went in with YOU! In your apartment! As if this was the most normal thing in the world!

Did you invite him to stay the night? Did you both plan this ahead of time?

Warping to the top of the building next to yours he continued to watch from his position as you turned on the lights in your apartment. Setting your bag on the counter, taking off your shoes and jacket. Suguru followed you in taking off his shoes and walking into the kitchen after you.

Gojo saw you both laughing and talking like you always did. You were at ease, immersed in your own world… completely forgetting about Satoru.

Did the kiss from last night mean nothing to you?

“What the fuck is going on?!” He groaned removing his blindfold; now fully observing and analyzing every single detail of what you two were doing using his six eyes.

Gojo didn’t want to miss a thing.

He focused on you, your reactions, the way you smiled, the way you acted, your heartbeat, the tone of your voice and… that bright and warm halo of happiness surrounding you while in Suguru’s presence; the same halo that last night was cold for Satoru. All of your smiles, all of your warmth and kindness were dedicated to Suguru.

Satoru’s frayed nerves and chaotic mind debated wether he should warp there and steal you away (… of course then proceed to fuck your into oblivion, fill you with his cum to the brim until you knew there was no other man for you other than your husband) OR keep watching and see how far you would go.

As angry as he was right then, he had to remind himself that Suguru and you had always been very close. It wasn’t uncommon for Geto fo visit you and have dinner with you to keep you company whenever Satoru wasn’t around due to his work or even have dinner together all three of you. This wasn’t ‘abnormal’ per say. The difference was that NOW you ‘thought’ you were not Satoru’s anymore (the operational word being ‘thought’)Geto’s presence never bothered him before… until now.

Taking a deep breath Satoru saw you walking towards your bedroom. His hands trembled in anticipation.

Were you going to sleep with Suguru?

He walked along the edge of his rooftop following your movements inside until you stopped in front of your room. Suguru moved closer to you and Satoru almost snapped. Lifting his hand to use his cursed technic against his best friend he saw how you both hugged and after you placed a kiss on his cheek you bid him goodnight. You pulled back and Satoru sighed in relieve but then Suguru was the one that leaned in and kissed your lips. Satoru was as shocked as you were but you managed to recover faster than he did since you returned Suguru’s embrace for what felt like an eternity. Finally when you separated, Geto and you exchanged a couple words and after another hug he walked out of your room closing the door behind him.

Satoru’s eyes had been open like saucers while the exchange took place, he released a breath he didn’t know have been holding. He saw you turn around and touch your lips with a blush on your cheeks.

He lost his fucking mind right then.

After coming back home Suguru and you talked about the latest shows you were watching and the movies you wanted to watch so you could catch up. A couple jokes about your gory tastes in movies and series after and you were both ready to turn in for the day.

“So! You wanna do a ‘The Walking Dead’ marathon?” You asked with a smirk “sure doll, we can do that tomorrow. You have the morning free right?” Asked Suguru. Sunday mornings were your ‘me’ time since your instructor didn’t work on Sundays “yes I do!” You answered with a big grin. You felt like a kid and the sensation filled you with happiness.

Now that Suguru was here you felt so different, as if you had been numb but now you could feel again.

A yawn cut your next sentence making Suguru chuckle “come on sleepy head, you and I are both whipped” you complied with a sleepy smile and walked down the hall.

Geto stopped in front of your room and gave you one of his characteristic big bear hugs. He was so tall and muscular, you felt surrounded by warmth and muscles everywhere. The fresh and crisp scent of his citrus cologne and detergent made your stomach do a little flip. The intimacy and trust you felt with him reminded you that you were not alone.

It had been easy to bury yourself physically and emotionally in your work but now that Suguru was with you, it reminded you that despite of how tough things got, you would always count on him.

Reluctantly you both pulled back, his Adam’s apple at eye level with you made you swallow. When you looked back into his eyes you found his trailing on your lips before they moved up to meet your e/c eyes.

There was a growing tension between the two of you, too strong and obvious to ignore.

Before, when you were with Satoru; Geto and you had ignored it but now there was nothing stopping either of you from acknowledging it. Sooner than anticipated your lips connected in a tender kiss. He was soft and kind, not demanding. He just wanted to comfort you but also let you know he wanted you, all in his sweet particular way.

You returned the kiss. It was inviting like a balm, it didn’t mean to mark and conquer but to soothe. His plump lips still tasted of wine. It made your mouth avid to taste more.

When you pulled away a blush covered your cheeks “good night Kitten” Suguru tells you with his deep baritone making a very pleasant tingling sensation run down your spine “good night Sugu” only then Geto leaves to go to his room across from yours.

The door closes behind you, all you can hear is your heart hammering away from within, you actually….enjoyed that kiss. It was so sweet, so tender… so soothing. Everything that Suguru was to you was poured in that single action. Touching your lips you start debating whether this was something good or something you should wait before pursuing.

Satoru didn’t sign your divorce, technically you were still married. Suguru didn’t deserve a half assed relationship with someone who doesn’t have her shit together.

You were still healing it was true, but… when Suguru kissed you, it made you feel safe…. Like you could let go and trust him.

Feeling guilty about it, you compared it to Satoru’s kiss from last night. It was impossible to deny there was still passion between you your husband and yourself. But then again physical intimacy was never the problem in your former relationship.

The thrill of the danger, of knowing nothing good would come out of it and despite it all your stubborn desire to immerse yourself in the ocean that was Gojo Satoru. Was what terrified you.

No… you couldn’t think about him that way. Not anymore.

With a sigh you decided it was time for bed. You turned around to head to the bathroom but your body connected with something hard and warm. Looking up you saw Satoru’s crystal blue eyes but before you could scream he covered your mouth with one hand while wrapping the other one around your waist. “Oh no no no no my love… none of that, we are not going to alert sweet Suguru about me, princess” the smirk that pulled at his lips made you shiver, it was predatory… maniac even.

Before your senses could register the change in the atmosphere you were warped away with Satoru. You screamed, but it was too late, you were not in your home anymore.

The lavish interiors of an elegant dim lit suite received you “what the fuck are you doing!?” You asked when he let you go, taking a step back breathing heavily “are you insane!?” You asked the white haired sorcerer who in answer only moved closer to you. The more you tried to get away the closer he got, until you were trapped between the wall and his towering 6’4 frame.

—

“Now princess…. Just what were you and Suguru doing?hmm?” He asked with a terrifying grin that poorly attempted to disguise his anger. Moving his hand to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Nothing of your concern!” You answered glaring at him, had he been spying on you? You tried to drop your body against the wall to escape from him but before you moved further than an inch down Satoru completely crushed your body with his “I am not done talking to you yet… my wife” he remarked making you ball your hands in fists. It annoyed and revolted you how he tried to use your ‘unfortunate’ marital status for leverage “I am your wife only on the paper… I don’t care what you think or say!” Satoru didn’t like your answer but his grin only broadened; grabbing your wrists and placing them on top of your head he held them with one of his large hands of dexterous fingers “you are right….” He started, giving you false hope “maybe it is time I remind you of your marital duties” your eyes opened wide but before you could attempt anything he kissed you. Fierce lips and teeth demanded your submission… this wasn’t a tender request… it was a display of dominance and possession.

You bit his lip trying to make him stop but Satoru took that as an invitation to grow bolder. His hand moved to your ‘V’ cut long sleeve top and ripped it right in the middle making you gasp; giving him the perfect opportunity to plunge his tongue in your mouth and intensify the kiss tenfold.

His free hand moved to your left breast squeezing the globe of warm flesh underneath. Groaning against your lips on approval, Satoru moved both his hands to your hips and using his inhuman strength he carried you across the room faster than you could tell and then threw you on the bed.

“Satoru… don’t do this! Are you mad?!” You asked in a trembling tone while scooting backwards on the bed in a miserable attempt at escaping him.

“Yes! I am! As a matter of fact… you are a good part of the reason why I am insane!” Grabbing one of your ankles he pulled you closer to him. Spreading your legs he laid on top of your body, giving you no chance to escape “SATORU STOP PLEASE!” You screamed but Satoru only focused on destroying the fabric of your jeans. He wanted all the obstacles between you to be gone! He wanted your clothes, your pain and Geto to be gone! So he could have you all to himself.

You tried to kick him but when you are struggling with the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of his generation there was absolutely nothing your body could accomplish without his approval.

A part of yourself hated the fact that you were just as revolted as aroused at the moment. Was that combination even possible? On one hand you felt dirty because your husband was trying to force himself on you out of jealousy…. But on the other part… the dark and twisted one… you were aroused by his display of pure male dominance, by his suffocating desire to have you and only you.

It was hard to fight so many years of habit, of fantastic chemistry… of love.

You would have to be blind or stupid not to see that your husband had been obsessing over you since you left but….

What good could come out of it?

If you both gave into your primal desires and fucked each other’s brains out. Would that change anything about your broken and unhealthy marriage?

His hot mouth moved to your neck to nibble and suck on that spot right bellow your earlobe that he loved to abuse. A big bruising mark was left in place, but he wasn’t content with just that. He wanted to leave the brand of his desire painted on your skin, like a beacon for him and a warning for others.

As the minutes went by his attentions became less frantic, instead they turned more purposeful and tender.

You stopped moving altogether, not fighting him nor corresponding his affections and careful treatment of your body.

https://youtu.be/qfFOzQVKuMs

youtube

Satoru pulled back for a moment to see you…. Only then it hit him like a train.

What the fuck was he doing? He looked at you and saw the tear trails that dried on your cheeks. Your top ripped in half displaying the soft skin of your breasts only covered by a bra.

“Y/N…” he whispered looking into your eyes. He caressed your cheek “I’m sorry… love” he mumbled trembling. “I’m so sorry…” a sob broke through his lips.

Did he…..? Did he…. almost forced you to have sex with him? How far had he gone in his endeavor to get you back by any means necessary? The notion that he almost…. Raped his wife made him sick.

He cried like a child. Wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face against your naked stomach; kneeling on the floor before the bed he crumbled to pieces. Repeating ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again. He was horrified with himself; he had done many questionable things in his life but this… took the cake. It made him a piece of shit! He didn’t deserve you! You were too good for someone as tainted as him. The dread that revelation brought made him cry harder.

He realized his obsession had been a result of the fear he was unwilling to admit having. The terror that made his insides coil. The absolute horror of losing yet another person he loved.

The fear of loosing you.

He had always been alone since he was a child. Satoru didn’t share much of his past with you but the few things you knew was that he had become an orphan at a very young age. He had to mature rapidly to overcome the obstacles of being a kid with so much power in the middle of a corrupt and outdated world of magic and intrigue.

Gojo always felt lonely, despite of how much he liked to mess around with people and play pranks on everyone. But you… had been one of the very few who got to see through his perfectly built facade and tell him the truth.

The night he told you he loved you was after you decided to stay with him in his apartment. He didn’t say or do anything particularly obvious but you somehow knew he didn’t want to be alone. He kept trying to fill the space with playful banter but you shut him up by hugging him and holding him tightly saying he didn’t have to explain anything all. That you would always be there for him, no matter what. It had been on the anniversary of the death of his parents.

Somehow, your empathetic and loving nature blindly guided you to stay with him and allow THE Gojo Satoru to be just…. human in your arms.

As much as you wanted to hate him and resent him, seeing him in such a vulnerable state made your heart ache for him. Unable to stop yourself you caressed his platinum locks while he held onto you and cried begging for your forgiveness over and over again.

When Satoru calmed down he removed his head from your lap slowly, you have been crying along with him. Your fates leaded you both exactly where you were at. Every decision and mistake carved this painful path you walked now.

Looking into your eyes he moved closer as if he was afraid to scare you away, his face stopped just an inch away from yours, giving you the chance to reject his advances but instead of doing that you closed the distance that separated you both. You lips met and melted together in a desperate kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, making him moan recognizing the intimate and passionate gesture he had missed for so long. He laid you back down again, climbing on top of you. His hands moving down to your waist in an attempt to feel you as close as possible, as if you were going to disappear in any moment.

Your legs wrapped around his waist when your tongues laced together and caressed each other; moans and sighs left your lips, filling Satoru’s ears and making his hands wander over the expanse of exposed skin.

Making him stand before you and between your legs his long sleeved black shirt was removed quickly, your admired his perfectly sculpted pale torso, this man has always been so… perfect; as if the gods themselves had decided to carve every inch of his person. Although, he did look skinnier, you knew he had not been really taking care of himself. The sight send a pang of pain to your heart. “Toru….” A little painful whisper abandoned your lips when you pulled him closer. Your mouth left a small path of kisses from his neck to the center of his chest, he gasped at the sweet and soothing action. Once more, your tenderness reminded him that he did not deserve you and yet he couldn’t come to make himself stop you. He needed you more than air to live.

Avid hands moved south of his stomach to undo his jeans and pull them down; a very vague part of your brain registered that you were now willingly doing this. Should you stop? Next to go were his boxers. He was standing naked in front of you.

His hardened cock stood between his legs with a small dribble of precum rolling down the reddened head.

He was an Adonis.

Looking into his eyes you saw the loving gaze laced with guilt in his cerulean orbs. You couldn’t stop, you didn’t want to.

He then helped you lay down to return the favor. His mouth kissed its way to the center of your breasts while his right hand undid your bra behind. Taking off the remains of your destroyed top along with your bra, next were the flimsy black lace panties that he rolled down your legs until you were fully naked before his eyes.

He was left speechless “you are so beautiful…” a goddess laid naked on his bed, with her inviting lips, glorious s/c skin, a halo of darker h/c hair around your head, perfect breasts and a pair of delectably shaped legs that he wanted wrapped around him.

How did he ever dare cheat on you? Not only your body was beautiful to him but your heart, you knew no boundaries when it came down to loving someone. You had given him everything and then some.

Kneeling before you he grabbed one of your legs and left kisses from the calf to the inner thigh. Placing it carefully over his shoulder he stopped for a moment to look in your eyes before his mouth delved between your thighs. He found your sweet pussy already wet and waiting for him to lavish his attentions. Like a starved man he licked your pussy, consuming everything you had to offer him. Your flavor coating his tongue made his stomach tight in delight, he recognized the addictive sweetness of your scent. Parting your lips with his tongue he penetrated your entrance with his tongue, going straight to the source. You screamed and he had to hold your hips so you wouldn’t pull away. He couldn’t let you go! Not now! Not ever!

Once he was satisfied he replaced his tongue with his fingers, pumping two digits in and out of your soaking entrance. His tongue looked for your clit and swirled around it, sucking at times and flicking at others. His reward were your screams, moans and sighs of pleasure. They were only for him and no one else.

“T… Toru… I’m gonna come”

“Come for me princess, give me all of you my love” Satoru asked quickly before his mouth returned to your slit and his thumb took care of the bundle of nerves at the top.

You screamed, arching your back when your orgasm washed over your body and completely overwhelmed your senses. Taking his time to taste and swallow your juices Satoru finally emerged from between your legs. Your eyes darkened with a desired that matched his.

Your arms inviting him to come closer encouraged him to lay on top of you after wiping his chin with his hands. Long legs surrounded his waist while you looked in each other’s eyes. “I love you…” he said at the same time he slid his cock inside you, slowly until he was fully sheathed and his balls slapped your ass, making you scream his name.

Satoru was not a small man by any means, taking all of his impressive length at once would have been impossible had he not prepared you beforehand. He knew it, so he moved slowly at the beginning, allowing you some time to adjust while he whispered sweet nothings on your ear.

The moment your legs pulled him closer and deeper he knew you were ready. Without a word he rocked his hips, retracting all the way until only the tip was left inside before he went all the way back in making you body jolt.

The rhythm was slow and purposeful at the beginning but as the minutes went by, the both of you became hungrier, more demanding, more… needy. Your hips met his thrust by thrust. The slapping of your skins intensified as did the moans.

Your tight and hot walls squeezed his cock so deliciously the man was having a tough time not behaving like an animal and rutting you through the mattress like a beast in heat. He wanted to show you he loved you.

He held both your hands in his, pushing them against the bed at both sides of your head. Looking into your eyes he moved deeper “I love you…” he said again and you couldn’t help but feel how the tears escaped your eyes “I love you too…” you admitted in a tiny voice that could barely be considered a whisper.

Satoru eliminated the distance between you both and kissed you, pouring his heart in that action. Your climax was close, he knew this so he angled his hips to continue pummeling your sweet spot while he drove you over the edge.

You came around his thick cock, your walls tightening around his member as if they never wanted go let go “I’m gonna come princess” he moaned and then with a few hard thrusts he spilled himself inside you, painting your walls with his cum.

Your worn out, sweaty bodies stayed still. Trying to recover. Satoru refused to remove himself from inside you.. Not yet, he wanted to savor this moment, the intimacy and the love he felt.

You didn’t protest, instead you did what you used to do back when you both were still together. Cradling his head between your breasts you stroked his hair, lulling you both to sleep.

Your last coherent though before sleep claimed you being… That once again… you fell for it.

Guilt settled in.

————-> Chapter 11

Tags:

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@my-reality-is-in-my-head

@dok-ja

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#jjkgojo #gojo angst #gojo x you #jjk #geto x y/n #gojo saturo x reader #jjk suguru #gojo x reader #gojo smut #softdomgojo #Youtube

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the-royal-petals · 2 years

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Romance in Another Dimension | Sinister Strange x Reader

Description: You've been in his dimension for three years, occasionally you'd visit Stephen; each visit felt like you were getting closer to him. You didn't see him as the monster people said he was, instead you saw his beauty shining within the darkness. This visit felt much more intimate.

Warnings: Smut. It's a bit on the kinky side. 18+ Minors DNI! I'm not sure what else to tag.

Note: this is my first time writing smut, so please do bare with me and give me a chance! <3

Dimensions were something that you've always been familiar with, different world different to its original one. They shouldn't be confused with timelines, as those are consequences of a decision screwing everything up. This dimension. . . something was different. While the original dimension was filled with happiness and normality, this one suffered from the actions of Sinister Strange. He tried dream walking into another dimension to get Christine, steal her from somewhere else, and yet. . . it ended up with him losing everything -- everything but you.

You had been Stephen's friend for a long as you could remember, having helped him through his training as a sorcerer, to his title of sorcerer supreme. All of that shattered away when he got a hold of the Darkhold, corrupting him from the man he was -- a sweet, kind loving individual who refused to give up helping people; people loved him. He was known for his will to help people, his loving compassion, and yet despite the rumours, you still saw that in him.

There were times he would snap at you, lose his cool, but yet you stayed around. You helped him control his emotions. Eventually, that led to the two of you developing feelings for each other, growing closer, not as friends, but lovers.

You've been dating him for around a year now and you haven't broken the promise of meeting him every week. You would go on a date with him, but where else could you go inside this hell hole? The darkness that has long become your friend. The darkness people said was inside Stephen. Strange would compromise on those days, create a bright and positive space inside the sanctum, decorate it with lights and wilted flowers. Though they were dead, you still saw the beauty in them.

The sanctum towered above you like it had done millions of times before. The stairs towered up into the heavens, leading you to your boyfriend that stood at the top with welcoming arms. On his belt he carried the darkhold, something that never left him, only if he went into the shower. Though it did bother you, he always claimed it was for 'protection. Protection from what?

You entered the sanctum, wrapping your arms around Sinister Strange who hugged you back just as tightly. Looking up at him, you planted a kiss on his lips, forcing a smile from him. His hand ran through your hair as you deepened the kiss, only to have him pull back with a chuckle.

"That eager to see me?" He teased, "we need to eat first. I know you haven't eaten yet."

You felt disappointment linger in your chest. Why did things have to be so hard? Nodding, you followed him to the table where he left you to enter the kitchen. Was this his way of torturing you? "I am eager to see you. You promised we could cuddle," you said to him, watching him peek his head around the corner.

"When did I say that?" He stepped in the doorway, "I don't remember?"

You rolled your eyes, watching him chuckle. "I hate you. Just finish what you are doing, I don't want to be left waiting." Complaining about stuff wasn't your strong suit; you had to appreciate what you had early on in life. With everything getting stripped away from you, things never felt the same.

Stephen went back into the kitchen, soon returning with soup. It wasn't much, but it was different to the constant pizza that was brought here; plus it was the only thing he couldn't burn. He set it in front of you before pulling his chair over, sitting beside you. He wasn't that much taller than you; tall enough that you could lean on him and rest your head onto his shoulder, but not enough that you had to go on your tip toes to kiss him.

Every time you ate the soup, your eyes glanced towards Stephen, watching him also eat too. The stare would linger until he caught your gaze, only for your to snap away to avoid lingering any longer. This was the normal for the two of you. You couldn't get enough of him; your heart pounded within your chest as you eyed him again, only to catch him staring this time, the spoon sat inside his bowl, barely eaten.

"Are you okay?" He asked, leaning forwards to get a better look at you. You nodded.

"Your distracting me."

"I'm distracting you?" He turned to you. His hand set onto your leg, only making your breath hitch. "Distracting you, how?"

You didn't look at him, instead you took another bite out of your soup, only to feel his hand push your hair out of your face and behind your ear. Painfully slow. Finally, you looked at him, abandoning your spoon in the bowl. "Distracting me by your incredibly sexy looks," you admitted, your voice grew low. "And you promised cuddles. We always cuddle before dinner."

Strange chuckled, wrapping his hand around your waist, pulling you close to him. "Cuddles, huh? How about something better? We can push dinner later and reheat it," you moved off your chair and onto his lap, now directly facing him, your lips were merely inches away from his. "Something you'll never forget."

Within seconds he had teleported both of you into his room, his hands trailed down your sides and pushed you against the wall. Your hands rested against his upper back, pulling him closer to you. Staggered breaths and gasps erupted from you two as he planted kisses down your neck, each one leaving a mark. He pressed his lips forcefully into yours, deepening the kiss, making it more intense than before.

Then you grabbed his shirt, pulling it up and over his head, tossing it onto the floor behind him. "Are you that desperate, babe? To have me?" He purred, "you're going to have to work for it."

You pushed him backwards, towards the bed where he sat down on. You climbed onto his lap, facing him. "We'll see about that."

His hand trailed up your stomach and below your breasts, wriggling between your bra and skin. He cupped one and gently squeezed it as his other unclasped your bra before tossing both your shirt and bra onto the floor. Then you went for his neck, pressing your body against his, your weight pushed him onto the bed -- you now were on top. Which was your goal after all.

He was going to pay not giving you cuddles.

You then pressed kisses down his stomach, trailing down to his belt where he let out a few gasps. Tugging at the belt, you pulled it loose, revealing the growing erection below. You pulled his trousers down gently before slipping your hands towards his member, gently palming it, earning a couple more gasps and a quiet moan from him. "(y/n). . . please. . ." he whispered quietly, looking at you.

"Hm?"

Silence. You hated silence.

Before you knew it, he was hovering above you, his hand trailed down your legs and back up. He slipped his hands into your trousers, pulling both that and pants off, leaving you fully nude. He trailed his fingers around your entrance, letting it glide across before brushing against your sensitive spot. A gasp came from you, followed by a quiet moan as he brushed over it again. . . and again. You buckled your hips upwards as the motion increased as he smirked.

"Did you think I'd be having the fun? It's your day, dear. You're getting more than cuddles, I promised you that." He whispered, putting more pressure between your folds, slipping his two fingers into your entrance. He kissed you again, this time his tongue entered your mouth. You kissed back with more passion, your moaning increasing with very gentle thrust of his fingers. Before you knew it, you felt yourself getting close. . . just in time for him to pull his fingers out. "No no, not right now." He kissed you. "Not now."

God you hated him.

His member pressed against your folds, gently rubbing against them before pushing in. Both you and Stephen let out a collective moan, a low and earning one. His movements were slow and gentle, careful to not hurt you. He loved you too much to hurt you. . . he wasn't a monster was he? Well. . . in bed he was, but not purpousfully. You bucked your hips up again, letting out another moan that echoed throughout his room.

"That's it. . . please. . . faster," you whispered, your words came out as a breathless mess. You felt a knot built up in your stomach as his finger went towards the spot again as he increased in pace, his other hand rested onto your hip, holding you in place.

It didn't take long for you to reach your climax, the pressure built up to the point you let out the strongest moan, releasing. You kissed him again, feeling him thrusting a couple more times before releasing himself, pushing himself harder into you before stopping deep inside, letting himself release.

"Oh god," he whispered. . . "that was amazing." He said, gently pulling out and kissing you.

"We need to do that again."

#Smut #sinister strange #sinister strange x reader #reader #smut #multiverse of madness

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shushiyuii · 3 years

Note

Oh my beloved that was very pog-

Gib another part for the zombie apocalypse one pwease :3?

Anything for my Dear Smoggy, Love you!

if you wish for a part three you may, but you're gonna have to give me an idea :3

Warnings: Zombies (Which will contain death and some heavy subjects, be warned), Soft vore.

Words: 1.7K+

It was obvious that the growl wasn’t human, the tone sounded so inhuman that it scared Tommy, not only that but his eyes, they screamed pure anger. Despite the small time of knowing Wilbur, he’d honestly grown quite attached to the man fairly quickly. Wilbur being the only one to treat him with proper kindness since the outbreak.

Three months without anybody he loved, three months of torture, three months without touch…

He didn’t love Wilbur but, he believed he could. He knew no ordinary survivor would protect him like Wilbur was now, so it made him think. ‘Maybe Wilbur grew attached too?’.

…

Wilbur’s mind was fuelled by panic, he couldn’t think straight. His urges are too strong. Hunger demanding satisfaction. But not for humans. For the deaths of the zombies, his mind screamed at him to protect the boy.

He didn’t know how he had grown so attached, perhaps it was that he was lonely for so long? He felt pity for the boy. He couldn’t be sure, he wasn’t sure what he was feeling, what emotion was screaming at him. He just knew that whatever was left of his lungs breathed with anger and his ‘heart’ raced.

…

“STAY BEHIND ME!”. He growled and pushed Tommy behind him, “What are you doing?! Are you trying to get killed?!” Tommy yelled at the top of his lungs. What on earth was this idiot trying to get killed?!

“I’M TRYING TO PROTECT YOU!”. Wilbur’s voice was no longer that soft and soothing voice, rather a distorted, alien-like voice. As if a drainpipe was trying to talk. Wilbur took a step back as the zombies came in closer to them.

“Tommy, get to the back end to the alley. Now!”. Wilbur’s voice was desperate. Tommy ran to the back as fast as possible, his lungs screaming and his chest aching, tears stung his eyes. He was scared, he didn’t know what to do. There was no way out of the alley, and they were surrounded.

The sounds of the zombies gave him a headache, what was he supposed to do?! He couldn’t do anything; he wouldn’t even be here right now if Wilbur hadn’t saved him.

…

Wilbur let out a monstrous roar, angering the zombies further into attacking the two, Tommy screamed at him to get back, Wilbur could hear the teenager’s fear for their safety. It scared Wilbur to hear such a tone from a normally happy kid.

It was probably apparent to Tommy by now that he wasn’t inheritably normal, but Tommy still reached out to him. So, the kid had grown attached himself, the hard and closed off one of the two had grown attached.

The kid had been lonely, scared. Without anybody but himself to care about. Wilbur couldn’t really blame him for such things. He was just a kid after all.

…

Tommy stared in horror as Wilbur let out a monstrous roar, he yelled out. He was scared, he didn’t know what was going to happen or what the fuck was going on…

And that fear only increased and Wilbur fell to the ground on his knees.

…

His knees gave out from under him as he fell to the ground in pain, his muscles ached. He couldn’t say it was hell though, he’d grown used to it after a while of doing so.

He noticed his once human-looking hands quickly turning into sharp claws, sharp enough to tear through flesh. Normal teeth turning too sharp like canines, one bite sharp enough to easily kill. His size grew.

…

Tommy didn’t know how much emotion he could handle in a day, but he was sure he was way past his limits, if he wasn’t horrified before he definitely was now. Wilbur once a normal size, turned gigantic. As tall as the buildings.

He could see his teeth, claws. His beanie had fallen off during his transformation, exposing the part of his head where he had an exposed skull. It was obvious to Tommy now, how Wilbur easily evaded those Zombies, the puzzle pieces fitting together. He was a Zombie himself.

As much as his mind screamed to hide from Wilbur, he knew it was a death wish. Not only that but if Wilbur was capable of communication and compassion. He wasn’t a normal Zombie or the fact that he had mentioned he was trying to protect Tommy.

So, Tommy had befriended a Zombie, funny.

…

Wilbur turned to look back at Tommy, he could see the pure fear in the boy’s eyes. He wanted to apologize for scaring him but there wasn’t much Wilbur could do at the current moment. He needed to quickly keep them safe.

He knelt down over to Tommy, the boy stepped back on instinct. He reached out his claw, carefully embracing Tommy in a fist, giving a small squeeze to reassure the boy but all he got were his screams and cries.

Wilbur felt the Zombies trying to crawl onto his legs, he stood up and immediately stomped down, killing whatever Zombies were once there. Tommy screamed again in fear, he brought the boy to his chest protectively. Hoping that this was enough to comfort the boy for a minute as he continued to destroy them.

…

There were way too many Zombies than Wilbur expected, every Stomp only brought, even more, to deal with, it was getting annoying. Every growl just made Tommy cling to his chest further than before, he wanted nothing but to comfort the boy, but his focus was just on killing and killing.

He realized that he probably wouldn’t be able to win this battle as the Zombies kept on increasing. His instinct screamed at him to roar but he held back that instinct, for Tommy and for the case of not luring anymore Zombies than he already had.

As his mind raced for a plan, he came to a conclusion.

Run.

He ran past the Zombies, the ground shaking under him with every step. Rubble of buildings falling as he passed. Normally he was careful, but he had nothing to lose, besides the small human currently in his arms.

He was probably halfway across the city when he finally got away from the Zombies. The boy in his arms crying his heart out. Once he realized, they were safe, he stopped. Taking a second to finally breathe after everything that had happened.

He scanned around for Zombies and found none so he finally sat down, his body slumping against the building behind him, it was uncomfortable, but it would do as he was tired as hell.

…

Tommy stopped crying as the loud sounds had stopped somewhat, he didn’t realize how tightly he had clung onto Wilbur. All he could hear were the sounds of birds and Wilbur’s breathes, maybe even a heartbeat?

After a moment, he let go of the hold he had on Wilbur’s clothes and looked back at the claws holding him. He could tell they were sharp, Wilbur could just easily kill him, but he didn’t, and the fact he was being held in a way that the claws would bring no harm to him.

He looked up at Wilbur, whose eyes were closed. But it was obvious to Tommy he was still awake, you had to be during an apocalypse and especially what had just happened.

…

“W-Wilbur?”, his eyes opened to look down at the boy in his claw, Tommy seemed to shrink down at the sight of his eyes, he couldn’t blame the boy for being scared. “Yes Tommy?”, his voice still distorted but softer and calmer.

“A-Are you a Zombie?”. Tommy shrunk back even further into his hand. Wilbur took in a deep breath and after a moment answered. “Yeah, I am. A weird one at that”.

Tommy’s face turned to slight curiosity, “H-how’d you become one?”, “Dunno, I don’t remember.”. “How are you able to grow gigantic?", “The same answer, it just came naturally I guess”.

The boy stopped talking but the fear slightly lifted from the boy’s face much to Wilbur’s relief. “Are you okay?”, he asked with concern. “F-fine, just scared”. Wilbur hummed in reply.

“You don’t have to be scared; I’ll protect you”. He squeezed Tommy gently, in reassurance. Tommy picked up on it this time. He could see a small smile plaster the boy’s features.

…

Night soon came, as it was apparent that the two were really tired. Wilbur could feel the boy slip in and out of consciousness in his hand. “Tired, Gremlin?”. He got a half sleepish, ‘Mhm’.

Wilbur hummed and picked up the boy, bringing him closer to his mouth. He opened his mouth and breathed out. Warm breath brought the boy out of his sleepish state and went to alert as he saw Wilbur’s mouth coming ever so closer.

“W-Wilbur!? What are you doing?!”. He screamed out, Wilbur closed his mouth and stared down at Tommy in confusion. “I thought you were tired?”, “Course I’m fucking tired but what the fuck are you trying to do?!”.

“Eat you?...”, “EAT ME?!”. He yelled out, “What do you mean eat me?!”. “Uh, do humans not at each other?”, “OF FUCKING COURSE NOT!”.

“Oh…”. Wilbur stumbled, confused. Since when did humans not eat each other? He thought since he could do it himself it was also a human trait. Turns out it wasn’t. Turns out humans’ control quite control their stomach acids as Tommy explained.

“Well-“ Wilbur coughed, “You still need to sleep Tommy”. He then opened his mouth and gently placed Tommy in much to his complaints. He licked the boy, tasting dirt and other things. “Wilbur!”, Tommy yelled out but got no response as Wilbur tilted his head back and swallowed.

…

Tommy felt as he couldn’t breathe as muscles pushed against him, he had no room to move, it didn’t help his claustrophobia. Not only that but Tommy was terrified, his mind raced with panic. He knew Wilbur wouldn’t hurt him, but his mind yelled at him anyways.

He soon fell into a larger space, his stomach. He pounded at the walls, begging to be let out but the walls only pressed against him, a soft rumbling of Wilbur’s body around him. Wilbur’s purring. Not only that but there were soft reassurances from Wilbur.

Well, maybe it wasn’t too bad, he was honestly really tired. He leaned against the wall, which was warm. Something he hasn’t quite have for a while, it was oddly comforting. He yawned and fell into a deep sleep, mumbling a goodnight.

…

Wilbur smiled as he finally felt the boy sleep, Tommy had been through a lot and needed the rest. Now Wilbur had to figure out what was going to happen next…

Summary:

Wilbur: You need sleep Tommy.

Tommy: No

Wilbur: Yes *nom*

Tommy : AAAAAAA

Also Tommy: *Sleeps*

#mcyt g/t #mcytg/t #dsmp g/t #sizeshifter!wilbur #tiny!tommy #tw vore #shushi's writings

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manonblaqkbeak · 3 years

Text

Fire and Ice

hello, hope you’re all doing well. i’m doing a double feature today since its the 20th here in aus. so todays fic is for day 19 and 20 (like, if u squint lol).

its a lil bit more angsty then i planned for it to be in the beginning, but its got some fluff at the end. (also, again, i borrowed the 10 month pregnancy plot from acotar)

1.9k words

enjoy!

The bathroom tiles were cool against Aelin's clammy skin as she slowed her breathing. As she willed herself to stop feeling so dizzy.

Four months into her first pregnancy and Aelin soon came to realise what the worst part of pregnancy; the morning sickness.

Or, as Aelin liked to call it, 'whenever it rutting happened' sickness. Morning, midnight, dawn, she often found herself running towards a bathroom, emptying her stomach loudly for the whole damned kingdom to hear.

She was aware of the rumours flying around, that there were friendly bets going throughout the city as to whether or not Terrasen was going to have a prince or princess (apparently, the majority were betting for a boy, but Aelin didn't care what she had, as long as they were healthy), but neither her or Rowan confirmed the pregnancy, and so the rumours stayed as gossip, until she and Rowan were comfortable enough to officially announce it.

Aelin wanted to wait because of how hard it was to conceive—it had taken her and Rowan over three years to be successful, and while she knew that three years wasn't that long, it was still hard when nothing happened—and was scared that if she said it out loud, then something horrible would happen. She hadn't even told her friends, although she knew that they knew; the rumours would have reached them. She appreciated that they hadn't asked either of them. Other than Rowan, the only other person that knew of her pregnancy was her personal healer, Magnolia. Other than Yrene, the demi-Fae was a healer than Aelin felt comfortable around, because even after a decade later, she still had nightmares about her time in Maeve and Cairn's cruel hands, the never ending chain of healers coming to fix her so she could be tortured again and again.

Rowan wanted to wait because of everything that happened to Lyria and their child. There were many nights when Aelin would wake up and find Rowan just watching her, his hand against her slowly growing stomach, and not only could she see the pain in his eyes as he thought back on what happened all those centuries ago, she could also feel it, like a living thing. Aelin knew that Rowan did his best to stop her from sensing his dread, but she wasn't a fool, and she would have known how he was feeling even if they didn't have the bond between them, even if she was miles away, she would know.

The bathroom door opened and Rowan was helping her up, his hands warm and gentle against her clammy skin.

Aelin was far too tired to ask if one of her handmaids called for Rowan after Aelin ran from their shared closest and into the bathroom, or if he felt her distress through the bond.

It was probably both. She would ask once her head stopped spinning.

Resting her head against her mate's chest, Aelin breathed in his scent, letting the pine-and-snow of him calm her senses. His strong arms wrapped around her, his tattooed hand running up and down the length of her spine as his right hand was a steady presence against her lower back.

How long they stayed like that, Aelin wasn't sure, but once her head stopped spinning, she rinsed her mouth out to get rid of the pungent vomit taste that was lingering. Once satisfied that the taste was gone, Aelin let Rowan lead her to bed—not the closest.

“Rowan—” she started to say, but her husband cut her off.

“That was a strong one, and Magnolia said that it's best to rest afterwards.” So he felt it through the bond, then. “I'll take over, and you can stay in and read that book you've been eyeing all week.”

She should say no, that she was fine, but a day of rest did sound nice and probably something she desperately needed without knowing it—and she really had been wanting to read the book that Dorian had sent her the other week (which she had to write a detailed review of when she sent it back. It was one of her favourite past times, especially if it was a book that Dorian loved, but she didn't particularly like, because his response to her review was always the most dramatic thing that always made her laugh).

“Fine,” Aelin said, “I'll rest and you can go deal with Head Teacher of the Academy.”

Rowan groaned at the mention. The Fae male that ruled the magic school was nice, but just so damned pedantic that he had a say about everything. And everything was falling apart, according to him, despite the fact that the school was built only five years ago. “I swear,” Rowan grumbled, “that if he complains to me that the school halls aren't the right shade of brown, I'll throw him out the window.”

Aelin laughed, because she had said the same thing when the male had come around complaining that the roof tiles were crooked last month and she had sent Rowan to check on said tiles (and what a surprise to absolutely no one that the tiles weren't at all crooked), but that wasn't enough for the Head Teacher, when he came back the next week, he wanted the tiles replaced.

If he wasn't so damned talented and good with children and running the school, she would have had him fired for being a nuisance. But unfortunately, neither she or Rowan couldn't just get rid of him because he was annoying.

“Make sure that your shirt is tucked in neatly, or you'll get the same speech about cleanliness like last time.”

Rowan flared his nostrils at that, but said nothing as he got up and changed his crumpled tunic for a fresh one—not at all tucked in—and began his fussing.

Truthfully, she was surprised that he lasted that long.

He left her a glass of water, and a pitcher full of the liquid on her nightstand, and the bowl of seasonal fruit next to it. Next was opening the balcony doors to let in the fresh air, and then the fluffing of pillows and straightening of the quilt and bed sheets—Aelin may have teased him a little by saying that the sheets were too tight, and then too loose, having to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing as he huffed at her ever-changing mind, until she decided that the sheets were just right after five minutes of readjusting.

Aelin watched it all with a small smile on her face, even as she grumbled about his fussing tendencies—but she knew he did it from a place of love, and that he wanted her and the baby to be comfortable.

He even went as far as to check her forehead, and gave her a wash cloth to freshen her up from her earlier sweating. At least she was already in a cotton nightgown and didn't have to get changed—although she knew that if she had too, Rowan would have brought the clothes over himself.

Once he was satisfied that Aelin was comfortable, he left with a kiss on the lips and a promise that he would see her once he was free, Aelin cracked open the book, but fell asleep thirty minutes later with an unexpected headache, a hand on her stomach.

X X X X X X

It was a rare day when Rowan had an empty afternoon, there was always someone to see, something to do, someone to write back to, that when Rowan finished his meeting with the Lords and Ladies of Terrasen and there was no one waiting for him in the audience chamber, Rowan was the first to leave the meeting, needing to check on Aelin. He hated how pale she looked when he left, but when he spoke to Magnolia quickly, the skilled healer told him that it was perfectly normal, but she would check in on Aelin to make sure that everything was okay—and since he wasn't called for during any of his meetings, he took that as a sign that things were fine.

The fact that the bond was quiet also assured him. He had tugged on it during at some point when one of the Lords was rambling, and he got a tired tug back, effectively telling him that Aelin was sleeping. So he let her be, and he sat in his worried state alone.

Rowan was excited for the baby, to take this step with Aelin, but Gods, he'd also hadn't been this tense, this paranoid that something was going to happen in so long. Rowan didn't think he'd feel like himself until he held their child in his arms, but Aelin still had six months to go.

And sometimes...sometimes he found himself wondering about the child he lost with Lyria. What they would have looked liked, if they would have been tall and broad like him, or slim like her. He also wondered how long their child would have been safe before Maeve claimed the child, having them trained to be a warrior like Rowan, or if Maeve would have cast them aside like she had done to Lyria, who Maeve saw as nothing but a pawn to use and toss aside.

His thoughts kept spiralling, his mind going from one thing and another, but stopped when he heard the sloshing of water and a relived sigh once he got closer to his rooms. He made his way through the space and soon came to the bathroom where Aelin was resting against the porcelain tub. Her skin was a light pink from the hot water, but otherwise looked healthy.

Rowan just stood and watched her for a moment and let the contentment from the bond wash over him. The steam danced through the air, carrying Aelin's scent with it, and the indescribable scent of their child within her.

“Are you going to stand there all afternoon?” Aelin asked, her eyes still closed, “or are you going to join me?”

Rowan decided to join her, managing to hold back his wince as he made contact with the boiling water—how Aelin found the hot as hell water relaxing he would never know.

When he was comfortably behind her, Aelin leaned against his chest, and took his hands and placed them against her growing belly.

“Magnolia visited me a few hours ago,” she said. “She says that soon the nausea will pass.”

“Good,” he said, letting the words settle in him.

Rowan was about to lean back against the bath when Aelin's fire filled the air in thin ribbons, moving as smoothly as water as it flew past him. His own magic moved in response, and soon his ice and wind joined her fire, going around the room, filling it up with the differences in temperature. And from the tub, a water butterfly the size of Aelin's palm lifted into the air, its movements delicate but strong as it came towards him. Aelin turned to look at him, her brows furrowed lightly in concentration.

The butterfly came to rest on his nose, and then exploded in his face.

Aelin laughed at his incredulous expression. Rowan shot forward and flicked water in her face, and soon almost all of the bath water was on the floor as they splashed at each other back and forth.

Rowan's troubles melted away with his ice and Aelin forgot about all of her nausea and stress temporarily.

Aelin couldn't wait to meet her baby, and she knew that Rowan was the same.

Six months couldn't come soon enough.

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #my work

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haikyuuuuuhypeeeee · 3 years

Text

Ch. Fifteen

⚠WARNING: Mention of previous character's death

• ────── ✾ ────── •

You set your phone down and look at Oikawa’s prone body lying next to you.

Once you returned to your apartment Oikawa was 99% asleep - you’re really not sure how he was able to put one foot in front of the other, but he did. You were going to deposit him into your bed but Oikawa was clinging to you like an octopus. So instead you let gravity do the work and you both had fallen backwards onto your comforter and pillows.

Oikawa didn’t even bother moving to get underneath the blankets before he properly fell asleep, mouth open and everything. He remained clutched to your arms, and you were helpless to try and escape from under him.

Ever since they were children, Oikawa always had to cling to someone and he’d be especially clingy when he was upset (which given today wasn’t surprising that you couldn’t pry yourself from his grip.) Since you, Oikawa and Hajime all lived in the same neighborhood since elementary, you had frequent sleepovers at each other’s homes. And sure enough, every time Oikawa would subconsciously choose you or Hajime to cling to while sleeping.

Hajime absolutely hated it but you didn’t mind.

Watching your friend sleep you can't help but give a sad little smile. He looks peaceful and so young in sleep. You know he’s the furthest from innocent right now, and he has a lot of work ahead of him to fully earn your trust back. But you wish that he wasn’t tortured with the troubles that plague you all.

A knock at the door makes you sit up. Oikawa’s face pinches at the motion, and you speak to him. “Mattsun and Makki are here, but you can sleep if you want.”

His reply is a sleepy grumble but he too sits up. You know that despite him only getting a few hours of sleep he won’t want to be left alone in your room. Together, with Oikawa leaning on you, you walk to the door and let in your friends. Mattsun raises his eyebrows at the sight of a clingy and exhausted Oikawa hanging off your frame but you just shrug. Makki seems to take pity on you as he drags Oikawa off and over to the couch, handing his coat off to Mattsun to hang up.

“Thanks for coming over,” you tell Mattsun. “I’m gonna put the kettle on and order some lunch.”

Mattsun nods. “Whatever you need to do.” He gives you a small smile and leaves you in the apartment entrance. You can recognize that he’s giving you space and letting you set the boundaries for the conversation to follow, and you appreciate his tact.

After you order the take out and make tea you enter your living room and see Makki and Mattsun sharing your couch. Oikawa is slumped in your armchair, eyelids drooping as he tries to stay away.

“Oikawa you can go back to sleep if you want.” You offer after setting down the tray with tea. He shakes his head at you as you pass out mugs but doesn’t verbalize.

“Okay, if you’re sure.” You settle on the ground by the coffee table, choosing to face your friends instead of sitting next to them. It’s quiet for a few minutes while everyone relaxes in their seats and sips the jasmine tea you’ve made. There’s a tangible tension in the air, stemming from the second Oikawa opened his mouth at the restaurant last night to this very moment. Mattsun and Makki are waiting for you to initiate, for in their eyes you were ready to tear Oikawa limb from limb yesterday and today you greeted them at the door with your tall friend clinging to you.

Plus there's the whole you loving Hajime thing that should be addressed.

You know that your friends would never, ever push you to discuss it. But they’re probably wondering why they weren’t privy to the info, why Oikawa was, and if you don’t trust them or something. The last thing you want is to make your friends doubt the relationship you have with them, so you’re ready to clear the air and address the elephant in the room.

“I love Hajime.” You say. Everyone looks up from their tea to you. “I’ve been in love with him since the first year of high school, I think.”

Predictably, you’re met with matching sad looks. But even though you knew it was coming, you still can’t squirm uncomfortably at the pity you feel coming from them. This was exactly why you didn’t want anyone to know, especially now.

“Were you ever going to tell him?” Mattsun asks quietly.

You shrug, both at his question and the uneasiness settling in your gut “I didn’t feel like I needed to at the time. We were still in high school, still living life. I was happy with our friendship and I didn’t think anything more.” You smile ruefully. “If anything I think I was more worried about not being friends with him anymore if a confession went south.

“Honestly, I didn’t think that there would be a day that I wouldn’t be able to tell him how I felt. Even if I grew out of those feelings, part of me thought I’d be able to confess some day. I don’t regret our friendship, not when I wanted more. But I do regret not being upfront about my feelings with Hajime. He was my best friend, and I should’ve been able to tell him anything.”

You feel tears prick at your eyes and you look down at your tea. “We all have wonderful memories with Hajime, and I will never ever forget him. But it sucks, because while the memories are wonderful I can’t help but think how much better they could’ve been if I told him how I felt about him.”

You sniff, holding back your tears. You look back up and see Oikawa wiping his eyes and Makki sniffling.

Mattsun is looking at you with a serious expression. “I don’t want to go through hypotheticals or explore ‘what ifs,’ but I don’t think I’m alone in saying that Iwazumi cared for you differently than he did us. And I don’t think it was because you were best friends growing up with Oikawa, because he hated Oikawa.”

“Hey!” Oikawa pipes up from his spot, but there’s no real heat behind it.

Mattsun shifts, clearing his throat. When he speaks again his voice is rough with emotion. “You were precious to him, and his actions reflected how much he cared for you.”

You recognize that Mattsun is not outright saying the L-word but his careful alluding makes you smile tearfully. “I know, and he’s always going to hold a special place in my heart.”

Nobody says anything to that, and the room is blanketed with silence again.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Makki asks quietly, subdued. “Oikawa knew, but me and Issei didn’t.”

You sigh, your chest tight at the wounded look on Makki’s face. “I didn’t mean for Oikawa to find out. And I didn’t want to hide it because I didn’t trust you. But I just didn’t know how to bring it up, especially after Hajime passed away. I just,” you pause, sighing. “We’re all struggling, and I didn’t want you to think differently of me, or I didn’t want you to think that your feelings weren’t valid.”

It’s a lame excuse, but it’s probably the best way you can explain your thoughts. You’re not sure if their feelings are stronger or lesser than yours but you don’t need to know. The varying levels of grief people feel do not need to meet a criteria to be judged. Just because you love Hajime beyond the level of friendship that Oikawa, Mattsun or Makki probably love Hajime doesn’t mean that you “win” the game of grief.

“Y/N,” Mattsun says softly. “We’re your friends, and we want you to come to us with anything. Well, anything you feel comfortable sharing, which I guess in this case you weren’t comfortable with.” Mattsun pauses, it looks like he’s struggling to pick his words. “I do feel pain for you, but mainly because you’ve been dealing with these thoughts alone. I’m sorry if we ever gave you the impression that you couldn’t talk to us.”

You shake your head. “It’s not that, I swear. I just didn’t want to burden you all.”

Mattsun sighs. “I understand, and I don’t want to push you to share anything you don’t want to. But we love Iwaizumi, and if you want to talk about him or need to talk about him, know you can always come to us.”

Makki and Oikawa nod in agreement. You feel your eyes sting again but you smile, because you have the most kind and generous friends you could ask for. Hindsight is 20/20, but your heart does feel lighter knowing that your friends won’t ostracize you or anything because you love Hajime.

“We should’ve known that Oikawa would’ve just confronted Y/N straight on, he’s always been a jerk like that.” Makki says teasingly, trying to lighten the mood.

But instead of squawking in protest or complaining dramatically, Oikawa nods. “Yeah, I’m an asshole.”

Makki’s smile instantly shifts into an uncomfortable frown. “Oikawa, I was just joking -”

“But you’re right.” Oikawa cuts him off firmly. “And I’ve been even worse the past few months. I haven’t been taking care of myself like I should, and I’m sorry taking my frustrations out on you guys.” He takes in a breath. “I’m going to take a break from volleyball so I can make time for my therapy sessions.”

You, Mattsun and Makki all share the same look of surprise. “Oikawa, are you sure?” You can’t help but think back to Oikawa’s reason for not wanting to quit volleyball, and part of you feels guilty for suggesting he take away the strong connection he had to Hajime.

But Oikawa gives you a weak smile. “If Iwa-chan were here, he would call me a dumbass for not taking care of myself.”

“Yeah, he’d probably call you a dumbass and throw a volleyball at your head.” Makki adds. Oikawa squawks at the tease, making everyone in the room laugh.

You smile as you watch Oikawa snap back at Makki, with Mattsun egging them both on. They fall into a routine they’ve established since high school. The one missing component - Hajime either ignoring Oikawa’s calls for backup or sharing comistering looks with you - is obvious, but it doesn’t hurt as much. Your friends’ presence in your apartment fills you with warmth and comfort, like a warm blanket at the end of a hard day.

A knock at the door disrupts your thoughts and you stand to grab the takeout. Mattsun goes to the kitchen to grab plates and utensils, while Oikawa and Makki continue to squabble in the living room. You and Mattsun return to the living room at the same time, causing Makki and Oikawa to call a truce and grab food. There’s a comfortable silence in your apartment as you all fill your plates and settle. As you dig in, an errant thought comes to your mind.

“Oikawa, how do you know where Osamu lives?”

Oikawa speaks around the noodles shoved in his mouth. “I have a fan who works in the registrar’s office and it wasn’t hard to bribe her to look it up.”

“Yeah, that’s something we haven’t talked about yet.” Makki notes, looking right at you.

You avoid his gaze. “About Oikawa’s fans? Yes, it’s ridiculous how crazy they are.”

“That’s not what I was talking about and you know it.”

You glance up, sighing at the looks of intrigue on Makki and Mattsun’s faces. “I was upset last night, and I left my keys at his place. He let me stay because I was upset. We’re just friends.”

Mattsun purses his lips at you, but Makki has a thoughtful look.

“Well, he’s pretty cute. If Mattsun ever gets tired of me I might have to give him a call.”

“Shut up,” you hiss. You know you’re just playing into his trap, and hell would have to freeze over before Mattsun and Makki broke up but you couldn’t even hold back your distaste at the idea.

The smirk on Makki’s face only grows. “Oh, is Osamu into possessiveness?”

“Excuse me?” You ask darkly.

“He said you were possessive.” Oikawa helpfully supplies with his mouth full of food. You’re about to yell at him for manners when Mattsun speaks up.

“You’re different around him.”

Uh oh, he’s using the same voice he used earlier when talking about Hajime and you. He’s not teasing you.

“Different how?” You ask quietly.

He shrugs. “Different, like how you acted around Iwaizumi.”

His observation is met with silence, Makki glancing at Mattsun nervously and Oikawa gazing directly at you.

“Do you like Osamu-kun?” Oikawa asks.

“Wow, yet again Oikawa is not scared to ask the hard questions!” Your attempts at deflection do not go well, as Mattsun serves you an intense look.

“Do you like him?”

You push back, rolling your eyes. “I think you guys know more than anyone that I’m in no state to be in a relationship right now.”

“That’s not what we’re asking.” Oikawa replies. He’s still staring at you, but it’s not a mean look on his face. Neither Mattsun nor Makki are looking at you meanly either, but all three of your friends’ eyes bore into you. Oikawa speaks up again. “Do you feel differently about Osamu compared to me, Mattsun and Makki?”

Your first instinct is to say no because you do see him as you see your friends. You think of all of the conversations you’ve both had about school and classes. And you think of all the stories you’ve shared about growing up in Sendai and your likes, dislikes.

You would even say that you and Osamu are best friends, given how much you’ve relied on him when it comes to dealing with Iwaizumi. A twinge of guilt twists in your stomach as you worry that maybe you rely on him too much. He has his own burdens to carry.

But at the end of the day, you just know that he’d be there for you. And he’s shown time and time again that he will be there for a late night phone call or a shoulder to cry on.

Even those late night text conversations when you’re too scared to fall asleep. Or how the way he supports is different to Makki, Mattsun and Oikawa.

But why? Why is it different?

Is it because he didn’t know the Y/N you were when you were younger? He didn’t know the Y/N that existed before high school?

He doesn’t know you from before Hajime died. He’s seen this raw, broken-down version of you. And he still wants to talk to you. He still wants to hang out and get coffee and be with you.

And in return, you know this raw, broken-down version of Osamu. Honestly, you could care less if the Osamu you never knew was the richest man in the world, or the smartest man alive. The Osamu now has been shaped and has grown from every experience he’s lived, the good and the bad. And everytime you talk you find out more about him that draws you in more. You’re never going to be satisfied until you find out everything about him. You’re not sure if it’s obsession or infatuation, but every little fact you unearth brings you a joy that you haven’t felt in some time.

You revel in the small expressions he shows around you and your ability to decipher his mood based on those looks. You shine when he focuses on you, his intense gaze indicating that he’s giving you his full attention on you and only you.

You felt safe with the strong arm around your shoulders when you felt like breaking. You felt comforted when he wiped your tears from your face.

You felt loved.

You look up at your friends, amazed.

“Oh my god, I think I like Osamu.”

The boys nod their head at you, none of them surprised by your revelation. You look down at your full plate, appetite long gone. You honestly can’t believe you’ve been so blind. Looking back it was so OBVIOUS that you’ve had feelings for Osamu for a long time.

Another thought crosses your mind, much more displeasing than your realizing your feelings for Osamu. “I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship though.”

The boys nod at you again. This time Oikawa isn’t able to hold back his eyes roll. “Well obviously.”

You shrink down, feeling a new level of low. There’s no way you could try to pursue a relationship with Osamu, not now. But what if he wants to? What if he returns your feelings and wants to date you? Or worse, what if he doesn’t accept your feelings and doesn’t want to be your friend anymore?

“Y/N-chan, get out of your head.” Oikawa sing-songs, and it does bring you out of your head. You look at him and frown.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Babe, you don’t have to do anything.” Makki replies.

“But I want to.” You say instantly. “I mean, I think I want to, or I should?”

“But you know that you’re not in the right headspace to pursue a relationship now.” Mattsun reminds you gently. “And making sure you’re healthy enough to give the relationship all that you can is important.”

You nod sadly, agreeing. But your face must display your disappointment, so Oikawa sets his plate down and comes to sit by you.

“Look, just take it day by day. Nothing really has to change, you just have a different outlook on your relationship with Osamu.” He grabs your hand and holds it in both of his. “Instead of looking through a plain window, you’re looking through a stained glass window, right? It’s still Osamu out there, and he’s still the same person you like and want to be with. But now your relationship with him is richer and more vibrant. Even if you can’t act on your feelings now, you still have this new and beautiful view.”

You stare at Oikawa, dumbfounded. Mattsun and Makki look equally surprised at the deep and meaningful comparison Oikawa pulled out of nowhere.

“Wow,” Makki eventually says. “I didn’t know you could be so romantic, Oikawa.”

“Excuse you, I’m very romantic!” Oikawa snaps back indignantly. “Anyway, Y/N-chan, I guarantee that Osamu will be willing to wait. He’ll be patient, especially with you.”

“What would you know about patience?” Makki asks, genuine confusion in his voice.

Oikawa snaps again wordlessly, his tone shrill. You and Mattsun laugh, and the rest of the day is filled with everyone laughing and teasing each other.

At some point you take a second to look at your friends and smile. Your lives are unimaginably hard, and Hajime missing from these get-togethers still makes your heart ache. But with Oikawa, Mattsun and Makki here to soothe the pain, you know you can get through the worst of it.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: Okay, so all the cards on the table - I cried during the entire writing process with this chapter - planning it, drafting it, writing it, finalizing it AND even reviewing it. It’s not the first time I’ve had emotional reactions to my own writing, but it’s the first time it’s been such a visceral reaction. Not only is it so satisfying to see that small character growth from Oikawa, but the character growth from Y/N was oh so satisfying. She is FINALLY opening up to her friends, and they are FINALLY having a conversation that has been MONTHS in the making. She isn’t scared to suppress her feelings anymore, and she FINALLY trusts herself to open up to her friends, despite her subconscious trying to protect her from being vulnerable in front of those she cares about. If you’re reading this now, please know that there is NOTHING wrong with being open and forthcoming about your feelings. The people in your life who love you unconditionally, including me, will THANK you for it. 💖💖💖 Okay, gonna go cry again after writing this A/N LOLOLOL.

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU: @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien @everytimeswift @bongofrito @babucrow @beidouluvr @kozuken-ma @imarriedachef

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writingsbychlo · 4 years

Text

smoke and fire (11)

word count; 12,58

summary; following the tragic events of your last call, Vince has given the team a few days off, covered by other shift rotations, and coping alone can be hard.

notes; prepare for a few tears, but a lot of smiling and blushing.

warnings; reference to death, mentions of a funeral service, mentions of panic attacks, reference to injury, fire & arson.

The first tear fell the second your front door closed behind you. It was like a weight had been sitting on your chest, crushing you slowly for hours, from the very second you’d woken up this morning.

It had all been numb, seeming detached from who you really were, meeting members of Chuck’s family, introducing yourself, answering questions from the medical side of it all as they all stood confused as to what had happened to their son, and having to remind yourself on a mantra that you hadn't been at blame, as the unwarranted guilt threatened to topple over you at any given moment.

A beautiful ceremony of life, words that made the back of your throat sting as you sat in the church pews and listened to tributes, and the slight smudge of mascara under your eyes that you’d tried to clean up as your eyes watered, but you’d held strong throughout the entirety of the funeral. The dress sticking to your body felt too tight, like it was clinging to every inch of your skin, pushing in on you and crushing you from the outside.

He’d had a fireman’s funeral, the team deciding that despite never getting the chance to pass his exams, he would be sent off the proper way, and Vince had offered no argument. The morning started at the firehouse, nine o’clock sharp, the lights on the van flashing silently with the sirens turned off. The hurst had guided the pathway, lines of firemen along the edges of the cemetery as his family had arrived, and Newt’s hand had found your own to squeeze tightly as the black car had rolled to a stop.

His father, his uncle, his brother, a childhood friend, his best friend, and Thomas. Those six men carried the wooden box holding your friend to the front of the church for the gathering, respectful and calm, his mother offering a speech dedicated to the team, and you’d almost broken on the spot. There was something mentioned about all of you, about how proud Chuck made them all every day, and how much he loved what he did. Apparently, he spoke about you all to his family, at every chance he got. You felt like they were an extension of the team by the end of it.

Your social battery was drained; the simple small talk and polite exchanges you’d shared with everyone, but it had been overwhelming. You were no stranger to funerals or death, but you’d never lost someone so close to you before. It was utterly terrifying, to care so deeply for a group of people, to allow your walls to come down and let them in, only for the ever-looming threat of losing them to always be hanging over your head, and yet, somehow, it only made you stronger.

You suspected Chuck himself had something to do with that.

You’d placed a rose the same shade of red as the fire engines down on the top of his coffin, and whispered your thanks to him, for being your first friend in firehouse ‘21. You wouldn’t be who you were without him, you weren’t even sure whether you would have been able to stick it out there without his support, and without him, you certainly wouldn’t have the family you did today. You had him to thank for all of it, and you’d never be able to repay him.

You were invited out with them all, the family had booked a small conference room to go to, to share memories and chat, but the idea of it seemed like it might throw you over the edge, and you didn’t feel like having any more public breakdowns for a while. Your team had seen enough of you crying in recent weeks, and you felt like you’d done enough of that. You knew that Chuck wouldn’t want you to cry, he’d want you to make a cup of herbal tea - something stolen from Gally - and to watch a movie with Adam Sandler in or a rerun of Brooklyn 99, and he’d want you to smile, because that’s what he’d encouraged every other time you’d been sad.

He had never wanted anyone to do anything but smile, he was a ray of pure sunshine, warm and friendly and enough to light up any room or mood. You’d been sure to tell his mother that, and she’d held you in a tight hug that left you feeling weak, like you were being pulled down to the ground, the emotions overwhelming.

And so, you’d denied their request to join them as respectfully as you could, because you didn’t want to mourn surrounded by people. You didn’t want to do your mourning in a formal black dress that was smart enough for the occasion and heels that made your feet ache, watching as Newt pulled at the collar of his dress shirt, and the rest of your team wander around in the formal firemen’s uniform that was usually reserved for special occasions with a happier undertone, breaching on being tarnished, and you wouldn't let that happen.

So, you’d driven yourself home, eyes blurring a little and the clock tickling just past midday before the dam finally broke and you were slamming the front door shut a little harder than necessary. One gasping breath as you stood still, a second to follow, and then you were kicking off your shoes. The tears fell freely, hot and salty and unending as you sobbed, shoes abandoned and soles aching as you reached up to try and roughly jerk the zipper on the back of your dress down.

As you peeled it away from your body, you felt like you could breathe again, the pressure having been the opposite of soothing and you worry you were going to tear it in your haste to get it gone. It was chucked across the room, haphazardly into the laundry basket in the corner, and your stockings did rip as you tried to shed them from your skin. Elegant and professional, your appearance had been perfect, but you had felt the opposite. You felt broken, damaged and wounded and messy, like your emotions and inner feelings were leaking out for everyone to see, your deepest and darkest fears on display to be gawked at, your innermost worries open for public viewing.

It was a churning pool in your stomach, one that chilled you from the core, blood running cold in your veins, and you shivered a little. The smell of your perfume felt wrong where it lingered on the air from where you had sprayed it before, and you collapsed down in the seat at your dresser, hating the face that was staring back at you in the mirror.

It was wrong, you looked so professional, pointed eyeliner and a flick of lipstick, more makeup than you’d worn in a long time, but it was a mask, a shield to hide behind as you put up your defences against the pain you were experiencing, armour to wear to hold the pain at bay for long enough, but now it felt heavy. You grabbed for a makeup wipe, two coming loose and then a third, before you were scrubbing at your face. Flawless skin and artful designs were scrubbed away, your flesh blotchy underneath and flushed from the day’s events already, and it was only growing sorer as you scrubbed your skin clean.

The tears kept running, silent and slow as they flowed, and you struggled to even find the strength to push yourself back to standing up. The cold air in your apartment made you shiver, the simple but comfortable underwear was already feeling uncomfortable on your skin, everything did, now. Your fingers were shaking as they turned on the tap, trembling as you washed your face free of any remaining grime until you felt fresh, and you managed to get a handle on your tears.

They stopped somewhere between brushing your hair up out of your face and rubbing some moisturising cream onto the skin that was red and raw from salty tears. Tugging on your sweats and rolling them at the ankle away from your feet. Unclipping the bra from behind your back, it felt like the final restricting garment that was binding you to the pain of the day. It was left dropped to the floor, alongside torn stockings, kicked into the corner. You were fishing out a long-sleeved shirt from your dresser, the comfortable maroon coloured one with the hole in one sleeve for your thumb to slip through, when there was a knock at the door.

Nothing too startling, it wasn’t too quiet with the traffic outside, neither was it dark as light poured in from the sun outside, but you were one edge, and so the sudden intrusion on your quiet was shocking. Tugging the fabric over your head as you walked, and adjusting it across your front, you stuck your thumb through the hole and wiggled your fingers a little to grow comfortable, before you were opening the front door.

You were a little surprised to see who was on the other side. You had expected a neighbour, possibly the grumpy woman that lived a floor below, but you hadn't expected the towering frame of a familiar firefighter. He’d changed too, smart navy uniform swapped out for some jeans and an oversized jumper that would make him look smaller than he was if it wasn’t for broad shoulders and tall stature you knew lived underneath. Soft brown hair was freed from a white cap, and his face held equally as much sorrow as yours did.

“Thomas.. what are you doing here? How did you even know..?”

“I remembered. From the night we went to the vets. You pointed out which window was yours, I counted the floors, and tried to work it out. The resident two doors down told me where to find you.” Pink tinged his cheeks at the confession, and you laughed lightly, his hands rubbing together as he moved to stand up fully from where he’d been leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. “I thought you might need a friend right now.”

“You didn’t want to go to the little get together his family arranged?”

“Absolutely not.” He grimaced, shoulders sagging a little more. “I loved Chuck, I did, but I don’t think he’d be mad at me for not being able to handle another few hours of his crying relatives looking at me like I was the one who failed them, because I was supposed to be his lieutenant.”

“You’re not allowed to blame yourself if I’m not.” You whispered, his eyes sparkling a little in amusement as he let out a soft huff of a laugh, before his gaze was dropping down again.

“Look, I know my presence is unannounced, and that I am crossing all kinds of boundaries right now, but you were the first person I thought of when I got home and started feeling alone, and so I got changed and drove here without really thinking about it. I know it’s wrong, and you probably need time for yourself, and so I can go if you want me to, b-”

“Don’t go.”

He let out a relieved sound as you cut off his rambling, rubbing a hand over his forehead, and daring to look you in the eye. “Are you sure? I mean, my company right now, are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure about ninety-nine percent of the things going on in my life right now, but I’m pretty sure you’re one thing I’m absolutely certain of.” He smiled a little at your words, something soft and adoring flickering over his features, and he held his arms out a little wider for you.

“C’mere, sweetheart.”

You didn’t wait, letting yourself topple forwards into his grip as your hold on the door to keep you steady and upright in your weakened state moved to him, letting him support you as your arms wrapped around his neck, his around your waist to pull you flush up to his body for support, and you felt like you’d finally found your comfort as his warm breath washed over your cheek, before his face was burying in your neck, and a sweet kiss was being pressed to the skin there briefly.

His hands dipped a little lower, no doubt feeling you tremble against his hold, knees buckling as you relinquished the last of your self-control and stability to him, to hook under your ass, and lift you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, feeling him hold you a little tighter as he stepped blindly into your apartment, kicking the door shut and leaning back against it as he held you, and the presence of wet tears and muffled sniffles against your shoulder wasn’t missed.

You raised a hand, brushing through his hair gently, and taking the time to comfort him this time. You pressed a kiss to his temple, and again, before squeezing yourself around him a little tighter and letting him reciprocate the actions in silent acknowledgement of your comfort, as he let himself break down now he was behind closed doors, much like you had.

Your feet slipped back to the floor a few minutes later, when his heart had slowed and breathing calmed, and the moment of insure weakness had passed, leaving you to lean against him, staring up at red-rimmed eyes as his hands rubbed circles onto your hips, silence being all that was needed.

“Thanks for letting me in.”

“Thanks for coming over.” Your words were barely even audible, shared into the space between you both, and he nodded his head, licking over dry lips, and clearing his throat slightly.

“It was really no trouble. Like, at all.” You smiled, forehead bumping against his chin as you leaned forward, before your cheek was pressing to his shoulder, and his arms were circling more fully around you for the hushed conversation. “I was hoping you’d let me take you to lunch, or something? We could hang out, try not to think about it all for a few hours.”

“God, it is lunchtime, isn’t it?” You rubbed at your eyes, gaze flickering to the clock on the wall overhead the open-plan kitchen counter. “I haven’t even had breakfast, yet, I felt too nauseous this morning to even consider eating something.”

“You’ve not eaten yet?” He pulled back a little further, his hands coming up to sit over your jaw, allowing his thumbs to sweep gently over your cheeks as he directed your eyes back to meet his own, and you shrugged, a smile on your lips.

“Oh, c’mon, Tommy. It’s not exactly anything new for us to miss meals in our line of work. I swear, that siren waits until I make something to eat to ring.” He chuckled, nodding his head, before pulling you forwards to press a kiss to your forehead, your hands bunching up in the fabric of his jumper around his waist, holding onto him tightly and hoping it conveyed what you couldn't say with words, a silent offering in gratitude for simply having his presence. “My body would probably be more shocked at a regular eating and sleeping schedule than it would one missed meal and a day without needing to nap to get through it.”

“Well, I guess we’d better start with breakfast, then.”

“You haven’t had breakfast?” You questioned, hopping up onto one of the bar stools beside the kitchen counter, and you watched with some form of amusement as Thomas moved across the room to open your fridge, clearly making himself comfortably at home in your home as he rooted through the contents.

“No, I’ve had breakfast.” He hummed, beginning to pull things out and stack them on the counter. “Well, kinda’. I picked up coffee on the way to the.. on the way, and I got a couple of muffins to go, too.”

“Muffins do not count. I bet they were chocolate chip ones, too.”

“Only one of them was chocolate chip!” He defended himself, the fridge rattling a little as the door closed and he turned to stare at you from the other side of the counter, eyes narrowing a little, before a teasing smirk was appearing on his face once again. “They only had one chocolate one left, the other was blueberry, which is fruit, so it’s basically like eating an apple.”

“You’re so full of shit, I can’t even begin to tell you how wrong that is, and how unhealthy that is, for a lieutenant of a fire station, no less.”

“Yeah, well, I have to live life a little unhealthily. If I didn’t how would I get cute paramedics to fuss over me?” He winked, the moment slipping away from you both for just a second as you gaped at him, feeling a warm blush race over your skin to find a home on your cheeks, and he chuckled to himself cheekily at his ability to make you so flustered, your eyes rolling but it was out of fondness as your head dipped. “So, pancakes? I’m really good at making pancakes.”

“You sure? Something about you just screams ‘I-cannot-cook-for-shit’.”

“I take that as a raging insult. I’m an excellent chef. An excellent and usually healthy chef, actually. I mean, I’m a lieutenant at a fire station, I’ve gotta’ stay in shape.” You scoffed, your words used against you again, and your eyes trailed along broad shoulders and arms for a second, taking in the muscles you knew to exist there that were hidden under a baggy jumper. “Are you checking me out right now?”

“No.”

“You totally are, you’re checking me out.” He gasped the words, reaching up to grab at his pecs like a woman would grab her tits, and you grinned at his actions, lips pursed together to try and contain it as your heels ached, and his jaw dropped, as though he was utterly modified and disgusted at the idea. “I feel so violated right now. Take your eyes off of me, this is disrespectful, my eyes are up here, you know.” He pointed up to his face, and you raised a brow, hopping down from your seat to around the counter, his gaze following you as you moved past him.

Pressing the button on the small countertop coffee machine and placing a mug underneath, you turned back to him, hands wrapping around his wrist to bring them down, your eyes dragging purposefully slowly over his chest, up to his face, and he there was a more serious look on his face as you did this time. Leaning up a little, his breathing hitched, eyes fluttering to sit hooded as he leaned in enough to bump his nose against your own, and you let out a breathy laugh. “It ain’t nothing I haven’t already seen, big boy.”

You pulled back, laughing at the shocked look on his face as he blinked to clear his mind, and you turned away to face the coffee machine, the man behind you stuttering a little bit. “You little tease.”

“Not a tease, maybe I’m just playing hard to get.”

You replaced the mug, making him a freshly brewed coffee too as soon as yours was finished, and Thomas was rooting through your cupboards to find the equipment he wanted. “I don’t know whether to be insulted or excited. Insulted, because, after all we’ve been through, I figured I’d at least have a place in the runnings, but excited, because you just admitted that I at least have a shot.”

“I thought you already knew you did.” You blew the steam from your coffee mug gently, and he found the mixing jugs he was looking for, his eyes twinkling a little as he glanced at you, turning back to the pile of ingredients he had made.

“Yeah, maybe, but it’s nice to hear you say it.”

“Hm.” You took a sip, settling yourself back in your seat, and watched as he began to crack eggs, clearly working on mental estimates rather than an actual recipe as he created a batter. “Well, for the record, you have a really great shot. Good ranking in the runnings, or whatever. Go for the gold.”

“Are you my top prize?”

“I could be.” You tried to convince yourself the blush on your cheeks was simply a bodily reaction to the heat steaming from the mug.

“Then I’m in it to win.”

“I hope so.” You whispered, the coffee machine beeping again as another cycle came to an end, and you nodded towards it, letting the moment be carried away, left on a high note, and not allowing yourself to overthink it or start to become doubtful of your decisions. “That coffee is for you, I made you a cappuccino.”

“I love cappuccinos.”

“I know, you like the foam on top so you can lick it off your upper lip.” He paused, glancing up at you, something you were unfamiliar with flickering across his features, before he was nodding his head.

He didn’t say anything, and for a second, you worried you had messed up somehow, that you’d done something wrong or freaked him out, or made an error, but you were certain you were right, you remembered Thomas telling you about his love for the frothy drink a few months ago when the station coffee machine had broke and you’d all had to make coffee from a kettle, and you’d seen him lick the froth from his upper lip with a grin every time he had one of the drink, when he thought nobody was looking, and he could be a child again for just a few seconds.

Then, though, you caught sight of the smile he was trying to hide, the way his face was lit up a little as he stared into the recipe, beating the eggs with a fork, a variety of other utensils laid out before him. He turned, placing a pan over the hob and starting it up on it’s lowest flame, before dropping a large wedge of butter into the pan to start melting, the lump sliding across the metal surface slowly as it began to heat up.

“So, these pancakes might be a little off. I normally use protein powder instead of flour, so, go easy on me.”

He added a large scoop of flour to the mix, milk being splashed in by eye-measurement only and some butter added, the pan popping a little behind him as it heated up, and you raised a single and slightly judgey brow at the unusual mix of quantities he was adding before mixing it. It seemed to work out for him, because somewhere along the line, it had formed a decent batter, and he was scooping out enough to slowly drop into the pan.

It sizzled at it cooked, his back to you as he worked at the hob, and you twisted a little more in your seat, facing forwards to the counter and resting your elbows on it, to be able to balance your chin on the top of your hands. Scanning your eyes over Thomas slowly, your cheeks flushed with heat a little as you realised you were very definitely checking him out, but you couldn’t help it.

His broad shoulders couldn't be hidden, no matter how big his jumper was, filling his frame widely. The muscles of his back became evident occasionally as he moved, the soft cotton of his jumper pressing to them but never becoming stained, and he’d rolled his sleeves up to cook as butter and oil in the pan popped, the veins along his forearms becoming a little more prominent each time he flipped a pancake over, or served it up onto a plate.

He was humming a song to himself, hips swaying a little as he occasionally mumbled a word or two, barley even audible to you as you listened in and you didn’t recognise the song but it sounded like something that would have been made in the 70s, your lips sneaking up into a soft smile. It was unusually domestic, it had been years since you’d ever had anyone to cook for in your own home, and you couldn't remember ever having anyone cook for you.

Well, bar when you’d been living at home, and a child, but that didn't count.

You weren’t blind to how attractive Thomas was; he was attractive in a beautiful kind of way. Soft chocolate-coloured locks and golden eyes that seemed to change shade with his mood, skin imperfect with constellations of pretty moles that only made him seem more like a piece of art. Of course, being the lieutenant of a firehouse team had its perks, he was often fitting in workouts at the firehouse on slow days between calls and you’d seen the stretch of his shirt across biceps and lean pectorals, and you’d been caught staring when he had comforted you after Chuck’s death. You’d been close enough to him so many times now that you were no stranger to the hard muscle under his clothes and soft but warm skin to cover it, or the long fingers on calloused palms that often found their way to you.

You’d just never really allowed yourself to be affected by any of it before now, putting up walls meant shutting out anything that might cause you to connect to someone, including physical attraction. Now, though, you’d been forced to take those walls down. You were happy about it, even if you weren’t happy today, but it meant noticing the more intimate things. It meant you noticed the scar on the side of his nose, almost indistinguishable until you’d been allowed close enough to see it, or the way the moles on his face continued all the way down along his flesh, but were more heavily grouped on his left side.

He turned, a plate for both of you in hand as the heat had been turned off, pan sitting there to cool, and he wandered over, pushing the condiments he’d assembled from your cupboards into the middle of the table, and you chuckled at the small collection of fruits he’d chopped on a separate plate; strawberries and apples, all you had, but he’d slipped something healthy in there.

“You want me to get the cutlery?”

“I found it. Third drawer across from the fridge.” He smiled, turning, and grabbing a matching set of knives and forks for each of you, before settling himself on the opposite side of the kitchen island, and you were already reaching for the syrup as he placed a piece of apple into his mouth, a satisfyingly loud crunch sounding out as he chewed it. Grabbing the knife and fork from the counter, your hands hovered over the plates, holding in mid-air before your first cut, and you could feel Thomas’ eyes on you. “Is it okay? I can make something else.”

“It’s perfect. Nobody has ever really cooked for me before.”

“You and Fry cook at the house all the time! He’s always making you meals.” He looked confused, brows pulling together and he sliced off a piece of pancake, stabbing it through a strawberry and sweeping it through some syrup, before chewing happily, and waiting for you to explain.

“No, that’s different. I mean, nobody has ever cooked for me before. Just made me food, in my own kitchen, for the sake of it. When I cook with Fry at the firehouse, that's cool, but we’re making lunch for everyone and he’s testing recipes. This is different. You didn’t have to come over and see me, or cook for me, or comfort me, but here you are.”

“Here I am.” He whispered, a sweet expression on his face as he chewed, eyes flicking between you and his food, and you finally chopped off your first piece, bringing it to your mouth.

You didn’t need to thank him, he already knew, just from your words, how much it meant and the message you’d been trying to convey had been shared. Every experience you made with Thomas was like something entirely new, you weren’t sure why or how it had happened, he was never someone you thought you’d end up in such a situation with, and if someone had told you six months ago that he was the person you’d be turning to in your grief, you’d have laughed.

It was good food, the two of you sitting quietly for a few moments, a grin on his face as you approved of his cooking, warmth spreading over his cheeks at the compliment, and it was well-deserved. You wondered why he didn’t cook at the house more often. The fruit between you was dwindling, though he had eaten the majority of it, and you were at least a third of the way through your food before he spoke again, this time, his eyes fixed on his plate, voice barely above a whisper, but it seemed to fit the delicate mood. “You looked beautiful today.”

You paused, swallowing your mouthful thickly, and Thomas’s fingers were tapping at the counter as the other one navigated his fork around his plate, watching it intensely as though it was the most intense action in the world, but he seems to sense your gaze, his lips pursed as he looked up, one shoulder rising and falling in a shrug.

“I think you always look beautiful, even right now when you want to cry, but you looked really beautiful today. Sad, heartbroken, but beautiful, too. In an epic Ancient Greek tragedy kind of way.”

“So did you.” You murmured, heat washing over your face and burning at you as his brows raised a little, and you let out a frustrated exhale through your nose. “Handsome, I mean. You looked really smart. And good. In your formal suit.” The word vomit was starting again, the beginnings of a smirk forming on his lips as he stared at you, but the hole was already being dug and you were just falling deeper, unable to stop it. “Not that your normal fireman stuff doesn’t look good, you look really good in that, too. Fuck, are you going to shut me up any time soon or are you just going to let me continue embarrassing myself?”

He grinned, toothy and wide, a sight that made your guts twist a little, and your stomach feel like you’d lost gravity for a second, his eyes sparkling as he looked at you. “I think it’s cute when you ramble.”

You were even more flustered now, cursing a little under your breath, and staring back down at your half-eaten meal, poking the top pancake angrily with your fork like it was to blame for your embarrassment.

“I also think it’s pretty cute when you get embarrassed about rambling, and you blush, and you get all flustered because of me. I like knowing I can make you flustered.”

“Shut up.” You scowled, and he chuckled, but gave in, quieting his laughter with another mouthful of his food, and silence took over again.

It was a few more minutes before the heat bled away, and you were able to look back up to meet his eye, finding the amusement in the situation now that it had passed, but the dark cloud of the day was still hanging over you both.

You poked at your food, stirring it around the plate for a while, and eventually, you had finished your meal, moving on to snacking on what was left of the fruit in the middle of the table. You appreciated the gesture, because you were certain that had you been left to your own devices you wouldn’t have eaten, you probably would have spent the whole day moving around in some kind of daze, wallowing in your pity before eventually dropping into bed. Tomorrow would have been a mess, and yet, it was looking a little more promising now.

“So, do you want to talk about how you’re doing?”

You paused mid-chew, looking up to face him as you felt more like you were choking down the bite of apple, rather than swallowing it, and you sighed, your bottom lip finding itself being worried between your teeth as you thought about it, before eventually shrugging. “There’s not much to say.”

You stood, moving around him, breaking away from the bubble you had created together in order to start loading up the dishwasher, any kind of menial task to avert yourself from the conversation, but he clearly wasn’t letting it go that easily. He stood, his empty plate following, slipping it onto the rack beside your things, and reaching for the pan next. “I know you’re not okay, but you’re not alone, because I’m not really okay either.”

“Tommy, it’s different.”

“No, it’s not. Don’t shut me out.” You closed the machine, loading it up with a capsule and pressing a series of buttons, the machine humming to life, and you turned around, leaning against it, arms crossed as you stared at the floor. It was more like a glare, as though the tiles of the kitchen had personally offended you, but it softened considerably when a finger hooked under your chin, dirty sneakers filling your vision as he stepped in front of you, forcing you to look up at him. “Stop blaming yourself, sweetheart. You can’t, because it’s not your fault. It was a whole load of unfortunate incidents that all came together, and you couldn't have known any of them. You did your best, you did everything you could, and sometimes even when you try your hardest, bad things still happen, but that's not your fault.”

You sniffed lightly, a soft sob leaving you before tears were beginning to slip free, and he wiped them away gently with his thumbs, both hands now cupping your cheeks, and you allowed yourself to once again be weak with him. Your hands were shaking, finding his forearms, smoothing along until you reached his wrists, the back of his hands, pulling his touch away from your face until you could wrap his arms around yourself and press your face into his chest.

He didn’t resist, instead, he lifted a hand to cup the back of your head, his cheek coming down to press softly to your crown as the other slipped around your waist to hold you close, and your cries were muffled as you clung to him. As you did, as you sought comfort from him and let your pain out, you couldn’t help but settle, decide that you were far too comfortable in his arms and with this team, too comfortable at this house to ever let it go. You’d always wanted a family, the bond that came with finding a group of people you could bare your very soul to, to find someone who would see you in your worst state as well as your best and still stick by your side, and you’d found it all.

Holding him a little tighter, you found the tears were slowing, misery was still weighing heavy on your heart, but it was a little easier to carry when you let them help you.

“Can you stay?”

“Stay?” He echoed, letting you pull back to wipe at damp cheeks, before you were nodding, and giving him the best smile that you could muster in that moment.

“Like, here, with me. If you don’t have anything else to do today.”

“Only thing I have to do today is you.” He smiled, and you knew there wasn’t supposed to be an innuendo in the words, but he seemed to realise the same moment you did, a laugh breaking free from your lips as his face flushed with a pink blush, sitting up on his cheekbones and spreading right to his ears, a shocked look forming. “That didn’t come out the way I wanted it to.”

“I gathered that.”

“What I meant to say, is that I don’t have any plans except being with you, for as long as you want me to be here.” You smiled, letting the moment go rather than teasing further, because the colour on his cheeks was already too much.

“Wanna’ watch a movie? I’m pretty sure we could get all the way through one without any distractions, there’s no alarm going off today. Hopefully.”

“Knowing our luck, your building's fire alarm will go off.” He teased, his arm lifting up to tuck you into his side and settle back over your shoulders, guiding you through the space to the couch and living room only a few metres away.

“Well, if it does, I know that I’m the safest I could possibly be since I’m here with you.” You tapped the tips of his nose as you settled down, Thomas slumping into the cushions and spreading out a little as you sat beside him, legs crossed under yourself as you reached for the remotes, trying to reset your emotions as you scrolled through the comedy section, deciding that it was definitely the time for something light-hearted and fun. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Whatever you want is fine by me.” His hand found a place on your thigh, just above your knee, casual and relaxed, and you paused for a second. Glancing down at it, you realised your pause hadn't been from insecurity or anything unsure, but simply from the overwhelming shock of being so comfortable in the action. You didn’t feel put on edge, or tense, it just felt right, and you rested your hand over the top of his, his fingers spreading out to lace loosely with your own, and turning over to hold onto you properly. Pulling the appendage a little closer, your joint hands sat connected in your lap as you scrolled the movies.

You settled on something easy, something with a lot of laughs and giggles, and enough to boost your mood without even having to think about it. You shifted, spending a while sitting up, playing with the fingers of a hand that didn’t belong to you, before he’d seemingly had enough of that. Thomas lifted that arm about thirty minutes in, forcing you to settle back into the couch but wrapping that arm around your shoulders and pulling you backwards, tucking you into his side.

His fingers played with your hair, and you let a hand splay out over his stomach, and he felt like he was a permanent part of your life. It wasn’t a comparison to a piece of furniture, he wasn’t an essential but taken-for-granted piece of house-ware like a frying pan or a kettle, but instead, he was a comfortable addition that you didn’t feel like letting go of.

He was like a throw pillow or a blanket that went on the end of your bed, something for comfort and accessorising, something you could live without but would fight to have taken away if someone tried. He’d wormed his way in, you weren’t sure when or how, but he’d gone from hating you, to tolerating you, to accepting you, to caring for you, to something else. His nose brushed along your hairline every so often, soft smiles and muffled laughter as he kept his voice low, like the comments he made would shatter the mood if spoken above the whisper.

You never moved away from him. He never made you.

Rather, he held you close, and if there were a few times when the emotions all became a little too much, when the tears came again, when the crushing guilt you were working on dismantling threatening itself again, you would let the edge of his jumper soak up the tears and he wouldn't say anything, simple holding you close, and tracing patterns onto your skin as his fingers ran up and down your arm or held onto your shoulder, and if he got a little emotional partway through, or if at the only point in the movie when his arm unwrapped itself from around you, it was to wipe at his cheeks, or cover his face as he tried to protect what he had left of his emotional stability, you only squeezed him a little tighter.

You watched a second movie, one that you assumed was supposed to be a sequel to the first one you had watched, but you hadn't been able to follow the plot that much. Your mind was spinning, your thoughts like a tornado, ricocheting from every side of your brain.

You wondered how Newt was doing, whether he was still with Chuck’s family, whether he was sick of having his cheeks pinched and shoulders squeezed in a tight hug by older family members and swooning relatives. He had a way with words, he had a way with charming people; charismatic and cheeky. He was able to find a joke or a story for any situation, and something about him put you at ease just to be around. He was like medicine for the soul, patching you up from the inside out and making flowers bloom in spaces that had been cold and frozen. Maybe he’d had enough, maybe he’d gone home, or perhaps he’d called Derek for support. You hoped it was the latter, you had high hopes for the two of them.

Your mind also brushed over Brenda and Minho. You had no doubt that the two of them were together, that they were comforting each other. You would see her soon, you made a note of it. Calling people up and asking them to hang out wasn’t something you were used to, but you’d make the effort for her. You’d take her for coffee, or lunch, or simply show up with a bottle of wine and her favourite snacks, and take a girl’s night that you were in desperate need of.

You were picking at a loose thread that was dangling from the inside of his hoodie, a different colour to the pal jumper, it was more of a khaki green shade, and you suspected it wasn’t a thread from his jumper but from the t-shirt he wore underneath, and you jumped a little as you realised that there was a voice in your ear, closer and sharper than the television, which seemed or have been turned down and had become muffled, and you startled slightly, a chuckle following it as you moved to sit up.

Your eyes had been drooping a little, you’d been close to nodding off, not having even realised it as you absentmindedly toyed with a loose thread and let your thoughts take over.

“You haven’t heard a single thing I’ve said, have you?”

“Not even one.” You mumbled, glancing around, before rubbing a hand over your eyes, and noting the late-afternoon sun that was beginning to lower towards the horizon, fading light as the hours ticked on, and you sighed, shaking yourself down a little and his arm slipped free from around you to let you stand as you wobbled a little on legs that hadn't been used in a while. “I was thinking. I got wrapped up in my thoughts.”

“That’s okay, I wasn’t saying anything important, I was talking about the movie.”

“I’ll be right back, just, hit rewind. And pause. I’ll focus, I swear.” He nodded, legs popped up on your coffee table and you weren’t aware of just when he’d made himself at home, an air of domesticity that he seemed comfortable in. The image was burned into your mind as you wandered away, closing the bathroom door and taking a deep breath. The cushions were spread out around him, he was nestled among them, head lolled back against the edge of the couch, feet popped up on the table, shoes kicked off by the couch somewhere and an obviously wrinkled patch on his jumper where you’d been leaning.

You didn’t want to let it go.

You flushed, the sound drowning out the occasional shuffling noises Thomas made as he adjusted himself, the squeaky springs in your couch, and then the sound of the tap to follow, lavender overwhelming your senses as your hand wash flooded the room with the pleasant scent.

You caught sight of yourself in the mirror, red-rimmed eyes and cheeks a little raw from salt, and you switched hot water to cold, cupping your hands under the faucet and bringing your hands up to your face as you leaned over, trying to ease sensitive skin and wash your eyes, wash away where eyelashes were still clumped together, washing away the residual pain. Like a cold shock, waking you up from the hazy slumber you were threatening to fall into once again, and the emotional turmoil of the day had been just too exhausting.

You snapped the scrunchie from your hair to sit around your wrist instead, the dull ache on your scalp eased as you ran your fingers over it, your hair sitting in odd shapes that only a hairbrush would be able to truly tame, and Thomas was looking at you already. “I want to take a nap.”

“I can head out.” He rubbed his hands along his jeans, reaching from the remotes as he lifted his feet down from the coffee table to the floor and switching the television off. You padded your way across the polished wood towards him, taking his hands in your own, and his brows furrowed a little. “What?”

“I want us to take a nap.”

A myriad of emotions moved across his features. He started with confusion, before he was moving to something between bashful and shy, a sweet smile following that and his expression smoothed over until he was simply staring at you, nodding his head slowly and twisting his hands more to lace the fingers of one hand together, and letting you guide him through the halls.

He followed after you, feet scuffing on the floors, and sliding in his socks, and he paused outside of the bedroom door as your fingers found the handle, pulling you to a slight stop, and there was a nervous look on his face.

“Are you sure?” You weren’t sure what he meant, and he seemed to sense it from the shifting in your expression, because his eyes left yours, flicking up to the closed bedroom door long enough to signal what he meant. “I just, well, I mean.. your bedroom. It’s a private space, y’know, and I know there’s this thing between us, but I just want to be sure you really want it.”

You only pushed the door open, stepping into it backwards and taking him with you, and his lips inched up at the edges into a fuller smile, gaze leaving yours to take in the room. It was still a little messy, you hadn't bothered to properly tidy up from before when he’d arrived and the blankets on your bed were still pulled haphazardly tidily from when you had crawled out of bed this morning with barely enough energy to face the day. He took it all in, observing the space that was so intimate to you, taking in every detail, and he watched as you pulled the curtains shut, blocking out some of the light to cast a darker atmosphere over the room.

His fingers were running over the books on your shelf, and you settled down onto the bed, edging your way up it and tucking yourself down underneath cold blankets, shuddering a little and peeling them back to make a space for him when he was finished observing. He took the hint, turning to see you, and stepping a little closer to the bed.

He rested a knee on the edge of the mattress, a hand reaching behind his head to peel his jumper up and over his head, and you didn't even bother to hide the lingering of your eyes on the skin that was revealed, before you were watching him shake his hair free and throwing his jumper away to rest on your dresser chair.

He crawled his way up towards you, pressed a prolonged kiss to your forehead, before flopping down onto the mattress beside you. You lifted the blankets up, tucking them around him as he made himself comfortable, one hand resting under his pillow beneath his head, and facing you as his legs crooked, and he adjusted the blankets more securely around himself. His eyes found yours once he was settled, something that was both awkward and comfortable at the same time, and he sighed as the feeling washed over you both.

You waited a moment longer, his other hand resting just above the edge of the covers that were sitting around your middle, before you gave in to the temptation swelling within you, and you reached out. Smoothing your hand over the top of his own tentatively, he smiles, turning his hand to weave your fingers together once again, like magnets, your hand now only having a home as long as it was wrapped with his own.

“Was Chuck your first loss?” His words barely reached your ears; they were spoken so quietly, and you were certain that in the entirety of the day, you’d yet to actually use your voice at the volume it usually was, in fear of damaging an already fragile aura.

“No.” You mumbled, swallowing thickly, your eyes sliding shut to hold back fresh tears that may threaten to rise, his hand squeezing yours a little tighter in support. “He was the first friend I lost, though.”

It went silent for a moment after that, enough time for you to get a handle on your emotions, before you were opening your eyes back up to meet swirling honey-brown that were watching you through a somewhat sleepy gaze. “The first loss of someone I really cared about was hard. His name was Ben.”

His voice cracked a little as he spoke, and you dared to shuffle an inch closer across your pillow towards his, the bedding barely even making a sound as you moved minutely. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“I want to. I want you to know about me.” He let out a shaky breath, and you realised that this was perhaps the first time he’d spoken about it since it had ever happened, and so it was just as therapeutic for him as talking about Chuck was for you, even if you didn’t want to. “It hit hard, I liked him, he seemed like a cool guy. He was a lieutenant candidate with me, we were training together. It was competitive but all in fun and games, nothing serious. He was better than I was, he’d been preparing longer, he was definitely going to get the promotion when our house lieutenant retired. He’d been there years, I’d only been there for three months, but it felt like three days.”

You chuckled a little at his words, his expression brightening a little at the sound, seeming to perk up just slightly, and he tugged you a little closer, your cheek pressing to the end of your pillow as his own head remained firmly planted in the centre of the opposite one.

“We got trapped, burning building, it was all coming down. Nothing new. I was trained for the situation, and I tried so hard to get to him, but I couldn’t, he took a piece of debris straight into his abdomen, he was dead before I’d even made it across the room.” He choked down a lump in his throat, and your heart cracked a little in your chest at the broken look that flicked across his features. “I blamed myself for so long. I kept going over the moment, so sure there was something I could have done, that I could have run faster, asking myself if I hesitated just because of the job I wanted that he would have gotten.”

“Tommy..”

“I did all I could. I did my best. I know that now, and I don’t feel guilty, but sometimes it just hurts to think about it.”

“Thank you for telling me.” You could see that it was hard for him, and that he was reopening old wounds just to make you feel better, and it was a silent promise, something more permanent and solid, a confirmation that he was here for you, and that he wouldn't let you fall. That he was inside of those walls now and that he didn’t plan on leaving any time soon, his thumb playing gently with your own as you fell quiet once again.

“Newt’s first loss was a guy called Alby.” He eventually spoke, and you looked up to him again, brows raising slightly. “Before I even joined this firehouse. I remember Newt telling me about him, though. It took Newt a long time to get over it. He was new, basically a candidate, if they have that thing for paramedics. Do you? Have that kinda’ thing for paramedics?”

“We call ‘me greenies. Because on their first few cases, they usually look a little green, and throw up.”

“I like that. Greenies. That’s good.” He chuckled, and you shrugged one shoulder, letting him continue when he was ready. “He was the greenie, I guess, and Alby was the house chief. He took Newt under his wing, fresh outta’ the academy, early graduate at just twenty, and they became good friends. About a year in, they got in some trouble, Newt never really told me the full story, but Alby died on the stretcher to the hospital. Newt tried to pump his heart all the way there, he was sure that if he just kept pumping, his heart would start beating on its own again. It didn’t.”

You didn’t have anything to say to that, a pang of sadness for your best friend racing through your veins, and your eyes flicked over the edge of his pillow, contemplating getting a little closer, but he seemed to make that decision for you, shuffling himself up further toward you until his face was balanced on the edge of his pillow like yours, the soft pants he let out occasionally able to felt against the tip of your nose.

“Then, of course, there’s Brenda.” Your heart sank at the mention, and you knew she had to have lost someone along the line somewhere, but you hated the tone in his voice. “Arguably, the worst of them all. She really was the candidate, at a firehouse a few miles over, with her brother. He was a couple of years older, his name was George, he inspired her to become a firefighter. Apparently, they played firemen together ever since they were little, she followed in his footsteps.”

“I never even knew she has a brother.”

He lifted your hands up, instead of stretched out between your bodies, they were folded up near your faces between you both, resting on the mattress and holding tightly. “He was on Squad, she was on Truck - of course - and the Squad team got trapped on an upper floor. Everyone but her brother made it out. She finished her candidacy, passed her exams, and transferred to a new house, our house, she needed a fresh start.”

“Not that I don’t want to know, but, why are you telling me all of this?”

“Because I want you to know that you’re not to blame, and that everybody blamed themselves after a loss, but we all moved on, because we found each other and we let ourselves grieve without holding onto it.” He lifted your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, and you watched his lips move slowly along your hand, dragging along your skin.

“My first-ever loss on the job was a patient, in my first month. A stab wound victim, he died on the way to the hospital, while I was trying to hold the wound shut. I considered quitting, it hurt, not like this does, but it hurt because I felt like a failure.” Your smile only widened as his kisses moved as far as your wrist, his face inching ever closer to your own, able to taste the sweet syrup still on his breath from your shared late-breakfast hours ago.

“I’m glad you didn’t, because if you had then I wouldn’t get you now.”

His nose bumped against your own, his lashes tickling your cheek as lids lay closed and your own followed, darkness surrounding you as every other sense went into overdrive on him. The smell of his cologne, the feel of his nose brushing against yours and his breath tickling your lips, the tingle that shot along you at the barely present brush of his lips that you wondered if you were imagining it as so light when he adjusted himself on the cushion, but the connection you were waiting for never came.

Instead, you caught the sound of a soft sigh, and his hand squeezing a little tighter around yours, before he was letting go, and begging his hand up to sit over your waist under the covers, fingers spreading out until they reached your spine.

“Tommy?”

He hummed, nose nudging a little more roughly against yours as he’d begun to fall away. “Yeah, angel?”

“You’re not gonna’ kiss me?” Something breathy resembling a chuckle left him, and the hand from your waist ran up along your body, evading goosebumps in his wake until he was cupping your cheeks. When your eyes opened, it was to find he had already taken that step, watching you fondly, pulling away enough to rest on his pillow once again.

“No.” He eventually gave in, seeming to be lost in thoughts, and you felt your features rumple with confusion and disappointment. “Oh, sweetheart, I want to. I really, really want to. Have for a while, actually, but not now and not like this. You’re sad and I’m sad. Every moment we’ve had so far that brought up the chance to kiss you has been stressed, depressed and near-death.”

“But you are going to kiss me, at some point?”

A sleepy smirk, that had way more of an effect on you than it should be allowed to have, and he seemed to know it too, because it only got wider. “Oh, definitely. But when I kiss you, it’ll be amazing, and breathtaking. When I kiss you, you’re going to feel it. It’ll make you a little weak in the knees, but that’s okay, because I’ll hold you up. It’s going to be perfect, it’ll be a kiss you’re never gonna’ forget, so I don’t want our first kiss to be when we’re sad.”

You didn’t know what to say, a long beat passing, before your lips were pressing together, and you were unable to contain your grin. “Well, okay, then.”

You moved forwards, his laughter only increasing as your face pressed into his neck, rolling him onto his back as you let your full body weight fall against him, his arms wrapping tightly around your back. You pressed a kiss to his neck, any spot you could reach, and the deep and rumbling laughter he let out was replaced with something softer and cracking, lighter pitch as he bordered on giggling, squirming a little as you kissed just above the patch, sensing a weakness in him.

You moved up, before eventually, he was giggling without restraint, squirming at the tickling feeling over the featherlight kisses you pressed to his jaw.

“Alright, alright, cut it out, before I lose all of my masculinity.” He was pink along his cheeks when you propped yourself up over him to get a better look at his flushed face, sparkling eyes peering up at you with messy hair and a dopey smile to match, and that sight was definitely something you could get used to seeing.

This was all new to you, it was ever-changing and constantly evolving, it was unsteady and unsure and it made you feel nauseously anxious and yet ecstatically excited all in one, and you leaned down, the promises he’d made were you giving you the confidence to so so as your forehead pressed to his. “Nap?”

“Cuddle?”

“Yes.” He beamed, twisting his body like you weighed nothing until you were on your side against the mattress again. He pulled you over, adjusting you on your side to face away from him, before pulling you back into his body.

His arm wrapped around you, one spread out under the pillow to support your head, and you weaved your fingers with the other, bringing it up to your mouth to kiss the back of his hand like he’d done for you. He was resting behind you, legs tangled together as your bodies sat snugly to one another and he held you tight in a gripping hug, and you were able to drift off to the steady beat of his heart against your back and the feel of his body surrounding you.

“You know, it’s rude to text when you’re having dinner with someone.” you jibed, his gaze flicking up from his phone as his elbows rested over the empty plate on the counter, lamps making his skin look more golden and highlights in his hair seeming to stand out as the light outside had faded, the evening meal being the next thing the two of you shared; chicken nuggets from the bottom freezer drawer and homemade wedges as he refused to eat curly fries.

“It’s not my fault you’re taking ages to eat.” You scoffed, swiping another nugget through some of your tomato ketchup, and lifting it on your fork to take a bite. He picked up his discarded fork, stabbing it into one of your nuggets, stealing a smear of ketchup that left a mess on the plate, and putting the whole thing into his mouth at once, winking as you protested weakly. “Besides, I’m talking to the group.”

“How are they all doing?”

“They’re good. As good as they can be. They want to meet up for drinks in a little bit, they’re headed down to the bar we like.” You finished your food, placing your knife and fork down to match his, and chewing the rest of your mouthful, considering it all, and his attention was back on his screen as he typed away.

“Can I come?”

He paused, looking at you over the device, before turning it off and putting it down on the counter, the buzzing and lighting up going ignored as he stared for a second. “Seriously? I just, I mean, you’re up for it?”

He stumbled over his words a little, he didn’t mean to come off as rude and you knew it, and so you let it slide, shrugging and smiling a little as you hopped down from your seat to put the plates in the sink to be washed later. “You said that everyone else got past their sadness by being together. I’ve never had anyone before, but I would like to be with you all now.” His seat scraped along the floor, and a second later, arms were wrapping around your waist from behind in a tight squeeze, shocking you a little as he did, and you straightened up, twisting in his hold to face him. “Is that really so shocking?”

“A little bit. We’re kinda’ used to being shut out. They’re all going to be surprised.” He tapped the end of your nose. “A good surprise, though.”

“Well, I can go change into something that isn’t sweatpants, and we can go.”

His eyes dropped down, taking in your outfit as he let you go, seeming like he’d only just noticed your attire, and you wandered away, leaving him to whatever he was going to do, confirming his arrival to the rest and getting his shoes on, while you tried to find some suitable clothes.

Once you had pulled on a pair of jeans and a more comfortable and bar appropriate top to replace your pyjamas, you folded them, resting them on pillows that had only just gone cold, before straightening the sheets out, erasing all evidence of the nap you’d taken as your bed was reset. A pair of shoes came next, hopping about a little bit to get them on, before running a brush through your hair and checking you looked presentable enough to go out. There was no doubt that Brenda would look like a supermodel, she always did, grieving a friend or attending movie night, she could put everyone else to shame, but it was just another thing you loved about her.

As soon as you stepped out of the room, there was a whistle meeting your ears. Thomas had found his jumper again and pulled it back on, his shoes too, phone tucked into his pocket as he beamed at you, and you rolled your eyes, walking straight past him to the coat rack to find your belongings as you got ready to go.

“Oh, shut it.”

“Why? You gonna’ get all cute and flustered, blush for me a little bit? Sweet and shy?” He was teasing now, and you scowled, pulling on your coat and hiding your face from him as you grabbed your keys, batting yourself down for everything you’d need and finding it already in your pockets.

“I’m kicking you out.”

He laughed, wandering past you and into the halls of the building, letting you flick the lights off before locking up, and he offered his arm to you for you to link your own through, before guiding you down the corridors to the elevator.

A short car ride, Thomas holding the door of his car for you to let you in before opening it for you again when you arrived, commenting both times about something gentlemanly, before his hand was finding yours as the car lights flashed to signal it’s locking, and a fresh wave of anxiety was washing over you.

You wanted to see your friends and be with them, you truly did, but that didn’t make it any easier to take yourself into a crowded place when you were in such a vulnerable place. The opening of the door made muffled snap into sharp surroundings, the bar filled with people, crowds weaving among one another, and Thomas took the lead, shouldering through the people milling around the entrance politely. The cold air of the outside was overwhelmingly different from the stuffy inside, the smell of liquor and sweat overwhelming your senses, but it wasn’t a smell you were unfamiliar with. The music pumping through the floor was vibrating right up along your bones, pooling in your gut, and you squeezed Thomas’ hand a little tighter as the crowds cleared once you passed the high tables and the dance floor.

You could just about see your friends, gathered around the largest booth with extra chairs pulled up, bodies constantly weaving in and out of your sights, blocking them from your view. Lips brushed your ear, a jolt of electricity making you jump, before you turned to find Thomas, his head ducked to speak to you but eyes flittering over the scene.

“I’m going to go buy everyone another round. What d’you want to drink?”

“Uh..” Your words died out, a little overwhelmed at the sight before you, and he squeezed your hand reassuringly. “Just something cold and refreshing, maybe fruity. I don’t know.”

“I got you, don’t worry. Why don’t you head over to the table?” He gave you a final lingering stare as you nodded, before the two of you were parting, and you were left to try and make your way toward the table. Luckily for you, it was only a few metres upon leaving Thomas’ side that Brenda spotted you, her entire face lighting up and glass slamming down onto the table, before she was practically climbing over the men to get out of the booth, and all but pushing people out of the way to get to you.

A tight hug as she rocked you from side to side, clearly tipsy as she spoke faster than she normally would while mumbling into your ear about how happy she was to see you. The story Thomas had told you came back to mind, and you didn’t mention it, but you wrapped your arms around her just as tight and held her to you, a show of your love for her, belated sympathy for the tragedy, and comforting her as she needed it, weak inside even if she didn’t show it right now.

Newt followed, cheering a little, hair messy and cheeks flushed with warmth from the drinks he’d had and the temperature in the bar, and you were already beginning to grow overheated. He hugged you next, walking you backwards to the table as you giggled, and settling back into his seat as several other welcomes and greetings echoed in their place. You couldn't help it, the smile that broke free, the way you fitted in so perfectly, your anxiety melting away just from being with them.

“You’re here!”

“Is that okay?” You teased, Brenda shuffling back into her seat at the back of the booth, nodding avidly as she sipped at a glass of gin through a thin straw.

“Of course! We just didn’t expect you, you haven’t been answering your phone all day.” Your brows furrowed, hands digging into your pockets to find it. “I was worried about you.”

You located it, metal cold to the touch from where it had been abandoned for so long, and you realised that the last time you’d checked it had been before turning it off as you entered Chuck’s service, not having a chance to turn it back on before Thomas had arrived, and stole all of your attention solely and unwilling to share.

Turning it on at the side, the device flashed back to life, and you waited a few moments, before it reset itself, and all the notification you had missed began to flash through one by one. Multiple missed calls from various members of the team, the oldest of which begging Thomas, probably calling to let you know he was coming over, before alerts from only a few minutes ago, the groupchat you all had with recent notifications, and you chuckled at the volume of them all.

“Sorry, my phone had been turned off all day. I wasn’t ignoring you, I swear.”

She shrugged it off, and you placed your phone down to be able to shuck yourself of your coat, the heat growing stifling with the extra layer on.

“How’d you know where to find us? How’d you know we were here?” Newt piped up, and you let your cat hang over your arms, turning to face him.

“I, um, Thomas. He told me you’d all be here.”

“But I thought your phone was turned off, so-” He cut himself off, brain seeming to catch up in his slightly inebriated state, and you were grateful that the heat in the room would hide your blush as your skin was already flushed. “Were you with Tommy today? All day?”

An undeniably cocky grin split his face open, matching expressions following gasps that echoed around the table, and you scoffed, placing your coat down on the heap that had been built. “Maybe. It’s not a big deal.”

“He told me he was going to check up on you. I figured he meant, like, call you or something. He came to see you?”

You shrugged, the questions suddenly being shot at you, among teases and winks that made you stare at the floor, bombarded with gentle humour from your team. Newt was through the roof, Brenda was yelling louder than all of them about her ‘ship’, some gazes being given over to her from strangers, and Minho was trying to shush her while laughing. Gally was simply grinning like the Cheshire Cat into his beer, and your head was spinning too much to even process anybody else’s questions or remarks.

“Alright, well, I’m not drunk enough to start this conversation with you all.”

“Well, where is lover boy, anyway?” You rolled your eyes at Newt, before tipping your head back towards the bar.

“He’s getting you all a fresh round of drinks.” Your retort resulted in a cheer from them all, hands banging on the table in excitement; empty bottles, glasses, and cans rattling as the surface shook. “I’m going to go and see if he needs any help.”

“You spent the whole day with him, can’t we keep you for a little while?” Newt pouted, and you stepped away, sticking your lower lip out to mock him a little, before flipping him off, and making sure to wave the gesture at the rest of them for good measure, chuckles taking up all around.

“No, because you’re teasing me, and I need at least two shots to handle that.” He raised a brow, a mumble of ‘touché’ spoken into his beer and he smirked, before you were turning and weaving to the bar.

He wasn’t hard to find, tall and messy hair unmissable once you were set on him, and as you got closer, you realised it wasn’t the bartender he was talking to. A woman, not too far from your own height, dark curly hair and tight jeans, a blue eyes that were piercing as she spoke to him, and it seemed to be a hushed conversation as she leaned on the bar against him, two trays of drinks stacking up beside Thomas, his wallet sitting out on the bar.

You considered turning back, letting him have his privacy with whoever he was speaking to, and you paused in your path, ready to turn before his eyes were moving from her face to you, lighting up a little as he smiled, and there was no way you could backtrack now. He’d seen you, you had to at least go over and explain yourself, his attention moving back to the woman.

Her words went silent as you approached, and you smiled politely, her gaze dragging over you, before she was offering a polite smile herself upon realising you were stopping by their sides, and not just passing by.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, I just realised you might need a hand with the drinks.” You pointed to the two trays building, an empty laugh leaving you all, but the atmosphere was still tense. “You want me to come back in a few minutes, instead?”

“Yeah-”

“No, now’s fine, we’re pretty much ready,” Thomas promised, the woman by his side frowning, and you grimaced at the tension continuing to rise, gaze moving between them for a second. Thomas turned, paying for the drinks with a swipe of his card, and nudging a try toward you, while picking up the other himself. “I appreciate the help.” He mumbled, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple as you tried to balance the drinks, and you smiled softly, eyes catching his, hoping the affection was returned without you having to lean up and actually return it, risking toppling all the drinks you were holding. “I gotta’ go. I’m sure we’ll catch up or something another time.”

You stepped away from the pair, at least trying to give them a second's privacy without lingering, slow steps away from them and back to the table. “My number is the same, still. Call me, alright?”

He didn't reply, not verbally at least, Thomas falling into step with you a second later, and you couldn't bite back the curiosity on the tip of your tongue as no introductions had been made. You didn't know many other people in town, and if you were going to stay, it was probably wide that you got to know your neighbourhood; “She seemed polite. Who was she?”

He glanced at you, a complicated look on his face, and you realised it must be deeper than you thought, a list of names and suspicions moving through your mind, before he sighed away his worries and shook his head lightly. “Nobody important.”

You placed the drinks down on the table, accepting his answer, and the group shuffled up to make room for you all, greeting their lieutenant and thanking him for the refills as they grabbed their drinks. A bottle of something fruity and fizzy was placed in front of you, and it seemed satisfying enough, you weren’t overly picky about it, and it tasted fine as you took a sip. Perching on the leather booth, an arm you had grown familiar with throughout the day returned to sitting over your shoulders, and you settled into him without hesitation.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you couldn’t help but smile, feeling at home as you sought comfort with your friends, moving on together, and letting your burdens be carried by friends and not just yourself for the first time in a long, long time.

#thomas #thomas the maze runner #ff!tommy #firefighter!tommy #the maze runner #thomas/reader #thomas x reader #smoke and fire #SAF #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #thomas x reader smut #thomas/reader smut

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hpalways · 3 years

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Conquer || Childe

Disclaimer: This is a Yandere! Childe x Reader Oneshot. There will be obsession, light gore, and death. If you are not comfortable with such topics, you do not have to read it. I would also like to put a reminder that I do not condone such behavior either, nor should toxic relationships ever be romanticized. Thank you for reading if you choose to do so!

BLADES coated of water skewered the enemy, pummeling them down mercilessly with every motion. The quick fight was soon over, so the male brushed his gloved hands together and left the vicinity, plastering a smile on his face yet again. Tartaglia had just gone on a quick errand for the Fatui, to analyze an area for their future plans. However, he ran into a little trouble there and ended up fighting monsters and whatnot.

It frustrated him, having to deal with such lowlifes. He was better than this! If it didn't provide him the thrill he was so desperate to lay hands upon, then what was the damn point? They shouldn't even be spared any time, for they forced him to dally along, which kept him away from you longer.

He combed his fingers through his red locks, sighing in the process. It was about time he began the trek back to Liyue Harbor. Lands spreading far and wide, he stayed obediently on the path and watched the peaceful birds soar through the skies. It was a very nice day today, but he felt restless anyway. The hands at the sides were twitching, nails digging sharply into the palms until blood seeped out. The pain of it did not bother him at all -- in fact, he merely enjoyed it, lips curving up into an actual smile. It made everything less pleasant, but more real.

The greenery grasslands of the wilderness faded into pavement, marked by the craft of humans. The huge structures of the city brimmed of familiarity of what he called 'home' for the past few months now. It would never truly be home of course, and it would never satisfy his wants, but it would have to do. At least you were apart of it.

His dark boots echoed upon the planked docks as he dodged the bodies milling about. The waves lapping below were as clear as the sky, reflecting against the warm sun. He knew exactly where to find you, and had sucked in a breath when he indeed saw the person he wished to see the most. [h/c] hair blowing with the wind behind, your figure was hunched down, a pair of chopsticks in your hand. You were on a lunchbreak from your job at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, so you were currently shoving down food at your favorite spot of Liyue. It was a simple place -- the edge of the dock with a good view of the sea, but it was also where you and Childe marked the first letter of your names on the rail.

"If it isn't my favorite comrade." The voice nearly sent you jumping in fright, so you whirled your head around to meet deep, blue hues. The tall male was leaning on the ledge, capturing you wholly with an unwavering gaze.

"Childe! You've returned," you said, grinning at the sight of him.

He leaned closer in, immediately causing your heart to race. Without a second to waste, he kissed you chastely, tasting you softly, in addition, the salt coming from the chicken you just ate. You instantly kissed back, cheeks warmed and lids closed, the food forgotten entirely. Body heat stemmed from him, wrapping you in a comfortable embrace. It was enough to ease your current worries, because Childe was here. The man you loved since the time of beginning... was safe and sound. It wasn't that you doubted his skills -- because he was strong -- very strong, considering he helped train you previously -- but the world out there was still terrifying. Not just that, but he could sometimes get ahead of himself; that was a call for trouble.

His kiss suddenly deepened, lips and tongue burning you until it began to eat you away. Your heart pounded ever so faster, but not in excitement -- rather in alarm. Pulling your head back from him and hungrily gulping fists of air, you averted your eyes to the waters. Despite not looking back at the Snezhayan man, you could feel his gaze digging into the side of your face. He appeared confused as to why the act of affection ceased so soon.

You decided to answer his unvoiced question, knowing it'd be a bigger hassle if you didn't. "I'm eating and we're in public." No response came from him. "Would you like a piece?"

Snatching a piece of chicken from your bowl, you turned to look at him. That was when you noticed how tired he looked. Dark circles adorned beneath his eyes, his hair was messy, and his outfit was slightly rumpled. What had exactly happened out there? Even the offer for food didn't appeal to him, his body stoic without the charm he usually exuded.

Then it happened like a light switch. He nodded eagerly, opening his mouth for the chicken. Despite your unease, you pretended not to see it and did as asked. Plopping it into his mouth, his expression brightened and he nodded while chewing. "Very delicious. Isn't life beautiful, [Y/N]? It's always beautiful with you here."

"Oh... stop being a flirt," you laughed, shaking your head to hide your flustered state.

"Why should I ever?" he asked, tilting his head. A finger twirled around your hair strand, twisting it -- deeper and deeper like a snake burrowing within. He grinned wide, teeth baring and too bright it nearly blinded you. "You're fun to tease."

"Whatever." You rolled your eyes, turning your attention back onto the food. "How did your day go today?"

"It was annoying," he murmured, features growing dim for a second. "I had only hilichurls to fight. I need something stronger."

"Isn't that a good a thing? You won't get hurt that way."

He blinked at you, brows raised for a few seconds. "You're right," he agreed, shocking you. He wasn't the type of person to stray from the idea of danger. "Patience is key. My opportunity will arrive when it comes."

Oh. So that was what he meant. "That's not the point," you mumbled under your breath, repressing the sigh threatening to spill out. He wouldn't listen to your warnings anyway, so you decided not to press on it. "You look exhausted, Childe. Are you taking care of yourself?"

"I'm not tired at all," he smoothly denied, expanding his smile even more, as if to try and convince you. "Besides, it's our date night, isn't it? I'm not missing out on something so special just for a nap."

That was right. With how busy both your schedules were, the last time you went out on a date with him was a month ago. It was a miracle when the two of you found an evening where both parties were free. Even so, it was a little worrying. You would rather reschedule than force him to go somewhere when he was in that state. Before you could say anything, he beat the punch, as if he read your mind just then.

"We're going. You can't say no."

"Fine," you sighed, shaking your head with a small smile on the lips. "Ah, shoot. I should get back to the Parlor. Break is already over. It went by too fast." Shoving the rest of the food into your mouth, you swallowed it in one go. There was one last thing to do. On the tip of your toes, you pressed your lips on the side of his face, feeling his smooth skin under. Soft as a baby's. How unfair. "See you tonight?"

He nodded, shooting a quick wink your way. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, comrade."

Chuckling under your breath, you whirled around and left the docks, oblivious to the eyes glued on to your form.

The moment you arrived to the building of your workplace, a certain director was waiting. She had long, brown hair put into two ponytails, with a dark hat sitting on top. Amber eyes showed from beneath her bangs, darting back and forth in wonder. Her fingers continued to tug the sleeves of her dark, traditional coat. It was none other than Hu Tao -- the person you called a boss.

"[Y/N]! You were a minute late!" she said, huffing as she placed her hands on her hips.

"Oh... sorry," you said, scratching your head.

She picked something up beside her. It was a stack of papers, showcasing calligraphy, which advertised the company. Same old Hu Tao. She never gave a break about it, considering clients were hard to keep. More-so, the woman was the one who typically scared them away, talking about death and whatnot. It sometimes unnerved you too, but it kept things interesting. Hmm... now that you thought about it, you attracted quite the strange bunch of people in life. Strange people often led to strange situations. Strange situations often led to death. Death?! Did your boss somehow brainwash your brain into thinking like her?

Hu Tao dropped the heavy pile upon your arms. "Let's go and find more clients! While we're at it, we'll tape these on some buildings too!" she declared, pumping a fist into the air.

Forced to follow her like a lowly dog, you drooped your head and did as ordered. It was a nightmare having to approach these people, witnessing the terrifying lines Hu Tao would sometimes spit out to them and the horror apparent in these innocent citizens' eyes. Then they'd threaten to call the guards on her, so the two of you would be forced to flee, and the cycle would continue. If not obvious by now, this was your least favorite task of this job, but it wasn't like you could argue with her. If she ended up firing you, you wouldn't know what to do.

Traveling through the city of the Geo Archon, you prepared yourself for the long day ahead.

The sun was setting by the time the two of you began to return to the Parlor. Skies streamed of pink and orange, looking magnificently beautiful. Lights began to illuminate the buildings, coloring the streets with its warm glow. It was growing silent too; the merchants and travelers were beginning to retire to their abodes. This made it much more peaceful and a definite welcoming sight to see. The embarrassment you gone through today made you wish to never see another human being again.

Ah. It was getting near the designated time for the date with Childe. Just as you were about to ask to be dismissed by your boss, the female beside you had let out a groan.

Turning your head to the left, you found Hu Tao sagging to the ground, grasping her head in pain. "Are you okay?" you questioned in panic, shaky hands unsure of what to do.

It was over quickly. She stood up and brushed herself off, clearing her throat. "I have a bad feeling," she said, placing her hand onto your shoulder. You glanced down in bewilderment, confused by her line of actions. "Someone is going to die. Is it you?"

"What--" you blubbered. "That's not funny at all, Hu Tao."

She hummed, placing a finger on her chin in deep thought. "Perhaps it's me."

"Don't say that!" you gasped, shoulders trembling in shock. What the hell was she spewing out?! Maybe you should be used to her tactics at this point, but never had she said something so... so drastic! Why would say she such a thing? How could she say it so casually? She was lying, wasn't she? This couldn't possibly be real!

Her expression was entirely serious. Trailing from your shoulder to your wrist, her tight grip weaved around it. "Come with me. We're going to Wuwang Hill."

You decided to go with her. This was an emergency. The original thought of your date with Childe had been pushed to the back of your mind, entirely forgotten.

The trip to the this place she talked about was longer than expected. Night had fallen across the lands, dim stars twinkling in the distance. It was dark out -- it didn't help that you found yourself in some abandoned woods, where gnarly trees stemmed from the ground. Where did she just take you? Her prophecy about someone's death was beginning to look a bit more convincing. The woods were the perfect spot for a murder scene. You flinched at the sound of a stray owl hooting from somewhere.

The woman finally halted at a mound of dirt, to which she nodded in approval at. She spun around to face you, giving you a thumbs up. "Alright. Just wait here for me. I'll be back in a bit."

"What?! You can't just bring me to this creepy place and ditch me like that! Let me go with you-"

She shook her head, looking stern. "I can't do that. Nothing will happen to you, I promise." Her words were a little hard to believe and did not help to assure you at all.

Despite your futile protests, she ignored them and entered a magical veil. In less than a second, she was gone, leaving you alone in a dark... dark place. Curses ran through your mind and you hugged yourself in paranoia. All was silent, saved for the rustle of leaves blowing against the wind. The moon casted trickles of light past the gaps of trees, the color of it more ghastly than helpful. Broken wood littered the ground, which you assumed were past homes. What happened here? If people used to live here, what happened?

The nape of your neck prickled, the feeling of it slithering down the spine of your back. It sank its fangs into you, ready to spill your blood to fill the soil. Whirling around, you found an empty clearing, with no one there.

Taking a step back, you tripped over a log. Shit! Shutting your eyes, you prepared for the fall. The wind knocked out of you, but before the impact arrived, time had froze to a stand still.

Cold, searing hands were placed on you, burning into your back through the fabrics of your shirt. Eyes opened to see the familiar outline of a person. You yanked away and shoulders lowered. Relief seeped into you, knowing that it wasn't somebody dangerous. He was here to protect you, for he was untouchable, unmatched in skills and strength. Suddenly, you did a double take. "What are you doing here, Childe?"

"I followed you here," he said, a grin never leaving his face. Pearls gleamed, reflecting the moon's glow. His gaze didn't match the smile he had on though; they were overflowing with something. Turmoil. Anger. Desire. "I was going to pick you up from the Parlor as a surprise, but then I saw you leave the city."

"The... date," you mumbled, knitting your brows together. "I'm so sorry...! I can explain."

"Hush," he said, grin stretching ever wider. He snatched a strand of your [h/c] hair, breathing it in deeply, while licking his lips in the process. "There's nothing to explain. You decided your job was more important than me."

"That's not it!"

He ignored your remark, scanning the surroundings with great interest. "This place is pretty dead. There's nothing to kill." Bending down, he picked up a wilting flower, analyzing it with those haunting hues of his. The next second, the flower was crushed in his hand, squeezed so hard it had turned into dust. He blew on it and the specks disappeared into the breeze. "Where's Hu Tao?"

Hu Tao... He had never paid attention to her before. As far as you knew, they had not spoken to each other once. What did he want with her? Your lips parted, but your throat dried. No words came out. You couldn't seem to find your voice.

"Cat caught your tongue?" he sneered, taking a step forward. His question was repeated, a little harsher on the edge. "Where's Hu Tao?"

"I'm back!"

Speak of the devil. The brunette had appeared out from the burrow yet again. Childe whipped around at the voice, a crazed excitement flashing past him. You wanted to scream at the girl to get out of here immediately, but your mouth would not move. Although, why? Childe was your boyfriend, was he not? What was this fear that threatened to suffocate your every being?

The tall man went over to the director, who had stopped in her tracks. "So this is it," she breathed out, her gaze locking in with the red head. "Balance has been shaken because of you, Harbringer."

"Does it look like I give a damn about your words?" he said, barking out a chilling laugh. "Please do at least give a nice challenge for a fight. I've been bored all day."

"I have no choice, do I?" she said, slowly unsheathing her polearm.

"No! Stop it! Leave her alone." you yelled out, running out to the battlefield.

He pushed you back, sending you sprawling to the ground. "Stay there." You tried to get up, but by then, it was too late.

Blue and red visions gleamed in the dark and in a biting realization, you knew who was instantly at a disadvantage. Childe had taken out his blades as well, water forming from them. The two figures ran at each other in great speed, weapons clashing and clanging. Every time Hu Tao tried to hit him, it was easily met by the other, the fire dissolving at the taste of water. Steam arose in the air, fogging the air around. "At this point, I won't even need to go into the other form. You're weak," Childe taunted.

"And you're hurting [Y/N] with your selfish deeds," his opponent quipped. Fury blossomed in the depths of his heart at the sound of this. He was going to go easy before, to keep the fight going for longer, but it was running out. Hitting her polearm with his entire strength, he knocked the long stick from her hands.

He grabbed her by her neck, squeezing it. Her legs were lifted from the ground, eyes bulging and her hands desperately trying to scratch the iron grip of his. She wheezed out in pain, the sound of it raw and scratchy. "Stop! Stop it, dammit!" you cried, crawling over to the scene. He ignored you, dropping the ragged body of the woman down. She was still alive, but barely.

Just as you were about to reach her, Childe had kneeled down and plunged the recently dropped polearm straight down into her chest. Then he did it again. And again. And again. Blood splattered upon his face, where a sick smile took place. Sticky substance landed on yours, the intense iron smell making your stomach turn. The woman's eyes which used to gleam of life had faded, though they were still wide in horror for the upending doom.

You couldn't even process it or grieve.

His bloodlust eyes turned on you, crimson splatters oozing down like drying paint. Wiping a spot from his cheek, he sucked his thumb and smiled, looking too happy -- looking too normal for someone with blood on their face. You reeled back, uneven breaths breaking the uncanny silence.

"[Y/N]."

You couldn't answer. You didn't have an answer. This wasn't your boyfriend anymore. He was a stranger. A murderer.

"[Y/N]."

Nails dug into the dirt and you dared scooted yourself back.

"Why do you look scared?"

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. He was pouting, jutting his bottom lip out childishly. How could he say that with his hand still on the polearm used to kill someone? Stop it.

"I won't hurt you. I will never hurt you."

"Leave... me... alone..." Your voice cracked and it shook with every syllable. With the last bit of your strength, you heaved yourself up and began to run like your life depended on it. And it did.

You barely last a few seconds. Yanked back roughly by your shoulder, he held you, claws digging into the side of your torso. His head lowered and hot breath tickled your ear lobes as he whispered.

"I will never leave you. One day, I will conquer the world. So I need you by my side. Forever."

His blue eyes were no longer blue. They were purple, the color of poison.

A/N: PLEASE the way childes banner is coming very very soon but i be writing this-

If youre pulling for him, good luck! We're getting our bastard man babes :D

#genshin #genshin impact #childe #tartagila #childe x y/n #childe x reader #childe x you #tartaglia x reader #reader insert #x reader #genshin x reader #yandere #oneshot #love #romance #angst #obsession

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cosmiclatte28 · 3 years

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Forced Marriage (Baekhyun, Sehun, you)

A/n : hey so this story was written last year when SuperM drama was out, but I never continue it and I just checked this again because of the WIP tag. (once again thanks to @yutahoes ) and I want to post this to see if actually there's still EXOL here who wants to read a fanfic

I will write the second part (ending) for this, after hearing if you want to end with who

tagging @yutahoes coz Sehun is a major role here hehehe and i don't really know other exols but @neopalette usually wants to read my fics (thanks honey!) and @swagmonsterofficial also could help

trigger warning: strict parents, old-classic ideology of arranged marriage

Here we go..

“Let’s get married, (y/n)!” The cheeky boy beside you blurts out and stops you in your track.

Your eyes widen, your steps taken to a halt, and his smile? His smile is still there.

“A wedding?” you turn your body to face him. Earlier you are walking ahead of him into the woods, running away from your parent’s “important talk”.

You live in the big house on the end of the road, where wilderness is still a thing. An hour ago, your parents told you to get dressed up as an important guest is coming, and you’re expected to look decent for lunch.

But here you are now, thirty minutes into the invitation, you’re walking in the woods with your best friend of a lifetime, or so you hope.

Baekhyun has been your neighbour since you moved in. His house is just one throw of pebble. Your bedroom window and his are face to face and that makes your friendship with him totally wonderful. When phones are not yet a thing, you don’t have trouble to see what he is doing at night, talking through written messages on a paper has been a way you two “chat” late at night.

Baekhyun nods his head and reaches for your hand, he guides you through his imagination of what he calls “our future small family”

“Yes, we will get married, in the same way you’ve always wished! In a garden, with a priest blessing our vows. You will wear your dream gown, with flower crowns like how you read in your princess tales! I got to pick you up in a carriage! Dad can work it out, what colour do you want for the carriage?” Baekhyun sounds so happy and innocent.

You hold yourself from tears, well he doesn’t know yet the reason why you run from your house’s back door to the woods. Baekhyun happens to see you run from his bedroom and he decides to follow you. You did not say anything, just replied to his surprising greeting with a surprised tone. Other than that, you’ve kept your mouth shut. Now it questions you why Baekhyun suddenly asks you for marriage.

“Umm why are you suddenly asking me this Baek?” a glint of hope reflects from this seeming normal question.

“Hmm maybe because I don’t want to lose you?” He shrugs playfully and swings the intertwined hands as he drags you for a deeper walk.

You think it is not a good idea to walk deeper, since you need to return after this if you did not want to end up with bruises.

“What kind of mind is that Baekhyun! I am here!” you try your best to sound happy.

He stops walking and faces you, gently he bends down to match your shorter height and he cups your face. “You know sometimes what we think won’t be gone, might be gone in a blink of an eye when one forgets to hold on tight.” He gives a small force to squeeze your cheeks and he giggles, ‘Hey since when did your cheeks lose their squishiness? You got thinner! Come join me for dinner mom can cook your favourite steak!”

Baekhyun did not know the reason you’re thinner is because you’ve skipped dinner. Fighting with your parents made you lock yourself in the room, skip dinner and lost appetite.

“Well, I’d love that but right now is not the time. Besides, what time is it Baek?” you ask him a new topic so you don’t have to answer his proposal.

Baekhyun glances at his analogue, “It’s ten minutes to twelve.”

You gulp and know you’re screwed. Returning to the house and dressing up will take some time and you’ll most likely show up at the dining table 15 minutes late. Like it or not, you have to go back now.

“Um Baekhyun I have some things to do, catch you later.” You quickly turn your heels and dash through the woods. Baekhyun frowns, but also follows your steps.

“Hey slow down! You’ll fall and get hurt.” Baekhyun yells to you, who is already a few steps ahead of him. This is so weird, you usually always ask him to accompany you, since you’ve once got lost in the forest. Come to think of it, you left by yourself today here. Why? That is unusual.

All these questions remain unanswered as Baekhyun sees you from the mouth of the forest, running to the back door and rushing all the way to your room.

You disappear from the veins covered gates of your backyard, and lonely Baekhyun takes the left path to his house. He smells the delicious lunch his kitchen is making. Well, as his stomach grumbles from hunger, Baekhyun tosses aside his problems and dash to wash his hands and dress for lunch.

Your expectation and calculation were accurate. You got to your room five minutes after twelve right at the time a car entered your porch. You quickly change your dress to the one your mother has prepared and as much as you hated laces, the dress was covered wit lace. You step to the mirror, tidy your look, powder up and brush your hair.

A hurried knock echoes in your room and your mother’s voice enters your room.

“Coming, wait a second.” You yell as you struggle to put on your shoes while making sure you look flawless already.

Once the door flies open, hey your mom knows how to pick locks, you’ve already forced a smile on your face, and she doesn’t look that mad.

“Nice, you didn’t disappoint me. Now gently do down, your fiancé is waiting for you in the dining room. Remember..”

You cut her in “No loud voice, no improper language, tidy eating manner, and agree on this thing.”

She smiles proudly at you and runs a soothing hand down your arm. “Hey, everything will be alright okay.”

You exhale a long breath and with a heavy heart, walks down the stairs to meet the man of your future.

If this was not reality, you would already run down the stairs with joyful steps to reach the man of your choice, sadly this is not your own story to write.

No, your father is dying and his last wish was to see you marry the guy he has set up for you. You remember what he said last week, “Please the man I’ve set for you will be a good man to continue the business I had started. Not that I don’t believe in you taking after, but he will be a good leader. His family also owns a strong business and together, you will live a good life. Trust me darling, I want this for your happiness.”

You remember him saying that to you, one cold night beside the fireplace when he invited you for a game of chess. You belong to the noble family; you have private teachers coming in to tutor you; unlike ordinary girls who need to stay home to cook and wash laundries. Chess is your dad’s favourite game and he always teaches you how to advance the game. Your heart tugs a little when his weak state flashes in your mind.

The last chess you played with him was that same time he proposed to you this whole arranged marriage idea.

You reach the last step of stairs and see the new family seated elegantly on the big table. Your father despite his weak state, still manages to look handsome. You spot the empty seat next to a tall man with strong face lines and a cold smile. He looks smart, strong, but lacks warmth and love. Your face shows a pretty smile, but deep inside your heart you’re crying as you can totally see your future won’t be different than what you have right now.

“Nice to meet you, Miss (y/n), I am Oh Sehun, your fiancé” He stands tall on his legs and after receiving your hand, he presses a light kiss on them. You greet him back and take your place beside him.

Lunch begins and all the time, you only open your mouth when direct questions are given to you. Sehun mostly takes over the questions about the wedding party, saying that he will let you choose what kind of party you want. You just nod and say you will think about it.

“Right, please make up your mind as soon as possible. The wedding will happen in 15 days and I hope we can get this over really quick.” Sehun’s father ends the talk of the wedding.

The choice of food for today was not your preferred dish. You only eat a small portion of the food and try your best to swallow this bitter lump.

Main course went well with Sehun getting engaged to business talks with your father and you were interrogated for your social life by his mother.

Luckily, your mother is there to help you lie. You’ve never really put yourself into the rich girl’s society, you’ve always lied to your mom. You lied about going to the social house, just to run away elsewhere with Baekhyun or simply attend last minute.

Strawberry panna cotta is your favourite dessert; however, today you cannot find the joy of sticking that sweet pudding into your mouth.

The suffocating tension grows thicker when you are sent to take Sehun for a walk to the festival reoccurring in the centre of the town.

Your mind is busy thinking of something, yes you remember Baekhyun is taking care of one event there. He is assigned by the Mayor to lead the talent show performance tonight. Now you remember there is no way you’ll meet him in the town with a new man by your side. He would totally rant to you for not telling him your new friend.

“Umm Sehun, can we go somewhere else instead.. I don’t think the festival is suitable for us to talk with one another. It’s loud.” You bite your lips nervously.

Sehun quirks his eyebrow, “Oh? Well then where should we go?”

His voice is icy and cold, even standing beside him sends shivers down your spine.

“We can go to the quiet hill a few miles from here, will it be okay?”

To your surprise he is okay with walking a few miles. You really think he would deny it and just ask you to talk here in the garden, but no, he didn’t waver at all.

So you begin your hike to the hill where you usually escape when your mind is not clear.

“And… this is it, the quiet place I always go when I have much in my mind.” You spin around once and smile when you close your eyes and feel the gentle breeze blowing.

Sehun takes off his mantle and lays it down for you to sit on. You looked puzzled and he chuckled at your confused face.

“I’m sure your mother wouldn’t want that dress to be dirty.” He helps you sit over his mantle and soon joins you down on the other side.

“Sorry for making you do this.” You point at his clothes and mantel, you did not expect going to the hill will cause him much commotion.

Sehun shakes his head and begins asking you questions to know you better.

“I know you did not like this marriage, but I will try my best to be a good husband.” Sehun said that to you, but things were not as beautiful as his promise.

Baekhyun enters his house and finds his dog already waiting for him

“Ah my sweet mongryong! You’re waiting for me!” Baekhyun kneels down to pet his excited puppy just to be run over and he ends up giggling on the floor.

“Baekhyun hurry up! Your brother and father are waiting for you! Go change to a clean shirt and wash your hand. Hurry or your plate will be clean!” His mother cheerfully kisses him and pushes him to change his attire.

Baekhyun laughs at the warmth this house can never fail to give him, he runs to his room on the second floor and quickly changes for a fresh linen. Just as he glances over to the mirror, he notices a foreign car on the porch of your front house. With a confused look, he tries to remember if you told him anything about a guest or a new tutor maybe.

The cheerful boy makes it to the dining table looking clean and handsome.

“Sorry for making you gentlemen wait and my beautiful mother too. Now shall we eat?” He grabs his utensils and a hearty lunch happens right at the same time as yours (the cold and tense one).

“Looks like our neighbour has a big news coming around!” his father starts the topic for today’s lunch.

Baekhyun’s ears perk up, “Oh yeah? A party? I thought they have their birthday already.”

His brother shakes his head, “No, something else. That car is new. We never see anyone visiting her in a fancy car.”

Baekhyun still enjoys his food, “Maybe a new tutor. She told me the last French tutor moved and her mother is busy looking for a new one.”

“Maybe…” his brother leaves a lingering statement and soon their discussion changes to the perfect seasoning their mother did on the food, or just random small talks.

“I am going to the town! I need to make sure the talent show will be perfect tonight!” Baekhyun bids farewell to the family as he takes his bike and pedals all the way to the town hall.

He can’t wait to meet you tonight in the town hall!

But Baekhyun didn’t meet you at all that afternoon. Instead he found another friend of his, Park Chanyeol.

“Hey! You’re by yourself? Not usual eh?” Chanyeol nudges his shorter friend, who is busy moving things around to set up the stage.

“Oh hi there Yeollie, well yeah It’s me and the team, who else are you expecting?” Baekhyun stops bending and straightens his back.

Chanyeol rolls his eyes, “I mean where is your girlfriend you always have by your side…”

Baekhyun secretly smiles but he shakes his head, “She’s not my girlfriend… we’re neighbours and yeah good friends, you miss her?”

Chanyeol awkwardly laughs, “No, I am not looking for her. Just feels weird… maybe she’s coming later. Now let me help you fix this place! We only have several hours to go!”

Baekhyun nudges off the odd feeling in his stomach. Come to think of it, you’re not the type to not come and help him. He tries to think that maybe your mother or father is acting up again.

You spend a good two hours of talking and planning with Sehun. As you feel wind more breezy and Sehun notifies you it’s almost tea time, you finally stand up from the ground and with the help of Sehun, you stretch your stiff body.

“It’s almost tea time.” Sehun says while putting on his mantle.

“Oh right… Will you join us for tea?” a question of formality.

You wish he would just reject it and go home, but no this guy accepts the offer.

You can only force another fake smile and return to the house.

“Great to see the two of you back on time for tea! We think it is a bit too late already for the Oh family to go home, so they might be staying for dinner and the night.” Your mother greets you and Sehun over the door.

Your mouth falls open and with one glare from your mother, you pull yourself back together. Before she can pull you inside the room, you quickly glance to your neighbour’s house and notice the lack of a bicycle. Hmm Baekhyun must already be in the festival.

Tea time is better since Sehun was called for a talk with your father and his. You are left alone with your mother and Sehun’s mother. The ladies engage themselves in a deep conversation of a recipe and you just sit there quietly. Pretending to listen to their fun discussion, while actually thinking how you will spend the night. There’s a very big probability that you are told to bring Sehun to the carnival and that means meeting Baekhyun. It is not a problem if you’re the only one, but coming with Sehun will be something deadly.

You’re not stupid. You know the feeling Baekhyun has for you. You know he was not 100% joking when he proposed earlier in the woods. You see how his eyes always show hearts when he is with you, you realize the protective voice he always has when you show up to him with fresh bruises. You may be over confidence, but his flirting game is a hint to you. You feel it, you too cannot lie that there’s something different you feel for him.

That night, you thank heaven for not sending you to the carnival. No, Sehun did go there, but you lie while feeling sick. Lucky, they bought your lie and let you rest at home. Sehun goes to see the town with his family, for you also learn today that he will move in here later on. This house will be for you and Sehun the day father passed. The Oh family is checking out the town and you… you’re now facing the floor while trembling in fear when your parents called you with that tone.

You enter the study room shaking. You can see what’s coming… seeing your dad seated on his big chair and a belt. The night will be long.

You earn fifteen tonight, for showing up late to the table, for not showing interest to Sehun, and for not being so lady-like or elegant.

“I thought we raised you nicely to be a lady with a class, but what’s that messy hair! I know you’re sneaking out again right?! There’s no way your hair will be like that if you take your one-hour preparation nicely.” He emotionally launches his belt to hit you. You’re standing up, tonight you did not let out a tear. Your lips are bleeding from the pressure your teeth do to ensure you’re quiet. No, you’ve run out of tears. You’re angry… not only did he force you to marry a boy you don’t know, but he was still picking on you.

“You know if the next time he comes here and you have not improved or put interest in him, you’ll meet another belt of mine. FIX YOUR MANNERS MISS. DON’T BE A DISGRACE!” He swings his last whip and leaves the room with a loud slam.

You fall to the carpet, curling yourself into a fetal position. No matter how many whippings you’ve grown up with, fresh bruise is always burning.

You lay down for a while, streaming your face with tears and as you hear the clock chimes seven, you know soon you’ll have to move to your room. The guest must never see what’s behind your dress.

You stare blankly into the wall, back facing the bright night sky shown from the window. It’s already 8.30, you hear the footsteps of people moving around the house. Great the guests must be here already. You remain silent in your room, hoping that your pain and fatigue can bring you to sleep quick. Laying down sideways to not touch the burning pain on your back and thighs.

Your eyes almost close and bring you to dreamland if not for the soft knock on your window. You peek from your shoulder and see Baekhyun’s window bright and he’s throwing you pebbles.

You did not turn on your lights, though Baekhyun can see your night lamp is still on. You feel like a jerk leaving him to work by himself tonight and not giving him any news at all.

The rock hits one to two times again and you finally turn the lights on and opens your curtain. There, you can see the brightest smile from your best friend blinding you.

Baekhyun raises a paper with a note

“SICK? YOU MISSED THE SHOW!”

You wince and try to reach for the board you’ve hidden under your bed. You open the curtain and flash your answer “GROUNDED”

That’s bullshit.

“OH? NEW CAR IS IT YOURS?” He shows you his board.

You hesitate, “A GUEST’S”

“SORRY. YOU OKAY?” he flashes his board up when he feels you’re not as quick as usual in replying.

“THE BELT’S OUT TONIGHT”

Baekhyun grits his teeth when he knows that code. He discovered your father’s bad habit of violence long time ago when you fell from a climbing tree and Baekhyun accidentally saw your scars and bruises. Since then, after you get punished, you usually run to his house and he will sneak you in and when you’re younger he would help you with healing and taking care of them. However as you mature, you only go to his house for mental support. Baekhyun used to promise he would bring you away from your violence father and he promised you to start a healthy family like his.

“We can start a healthy family! I can be a loving dad… I never hit people! I am raised to be a gentle man. I shall never raise my hand to any girl or child or anyone!” He once told you that with fires in his eyes, promising you he will get you out of that hell.

“WANNA COME OVER?” He flashes his board after thinking for a while, why did you earn whipping. Coming late to lunch must not be a big deal right? Unless…

Baekhyun shakes his head, trying to get rid of the silly idea he has in his mind.

“Is the guest so special?” he mumbles to himself.

“I DON’T THINK TONIGHT IS THE RIGHT TIME. SORRY ☹ AND THANKS” you raise your board the last time, before closing the curtains and shutting off the lights.

Baekhyun keeps his eyes on your window for a longer time, he doesn’t want to miss it if you’re sneaking out. But five minutes with no action, Baekhyun gives up and closes his curtain too soullessly.

The conversation he had with Chanyeol earlier lingers in his mind.

“Hey Baek, have you ever seen that man before?” Chanyeol points to a tall figure dressed nicely in an expensive coat. Taking time to stroll from one stand to another, seeing things and trying things.

“Hmm nope. Must be a visitor! He looks so expensive right Yeol?”

“Uh-hum, who can have that kind of guest here….” Chanyeol regrets saying that part out loud, for the slightly surprised look on Baekhyun's face is enough to make Chanyeol feels guilty.

In Baekhyun's mind, suddenly flashes the expensive car parked on your house porch.

“Must be Suho’s” Chanyeol quickly covers up his mistake and pushes Baekhyun away to start the talent show.

tbc

yes or no??

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