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baddiewiththebook · 11 months

Text

ONE OF THE BOYS [PART 2]

-> While you pine hopelessly over your best friend, Eddie Munson. You hear the sentiment 'one of the boys' one too many times and you've decided to change that. All in the name of the one boy who won't even look at you, or so you think.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language and suggestive themes [no smut]

-> a/n I tried to tag everyone I saw, but some of y'all weren't linking. Also, there is a part three because part two became so long. Whoops!

[Part 1] Part 2 [Part 3]

-> <-

“You're eventually going to have to talk to them,” Robin shimmies her backpack into the empty chair next to her rather than being strewn across the lunchroom table. “As far as they know, you changed your hair and your clothes and now you hate them.”

You place your lunch tray onto the open space, then sit across from her.

Distancing from your friends was cruel, and you knew that. Robin is also right. Still, you wake an hour early to get to school ahead of them. Taking windy pathways past the gymnasium that stunk of socks to avoid Eddie on his way to his classroom that is two doors away from yours. You carry all of your heaviest books now because Gareth’s locker is across from yours. You do regret leaving that sandwich in your locker though. Gross.

With a routine schedule, two months have flown by without a hitch in the plan. Robin likes sitting with you at lunch, but she does wish you chose to sit here rather than watching you screw away at a tight bond with the boys over at the other table.

Things were desperate by the first week when you shoved toilet paper up your nose in order to fib to Eddie that you were too sick to go anywhere. You missed two days of class just so you could keep away from him.

Then, there was the band performances. You never missed a single night that Corroded Coffin played music at the scrappy biker bar at the outskirts of town. The boys had stopped inviting you after “missing two,” but you snuck into the shadows in the back of the bar. No one really bothered you there. Stage lights distracted the performers enough to where they could only see the front row of drunks.

All of the practice in Gareth’s garage paid off. Corroded Coffin was good - no, excellent. You were so proud of the boys.

You wish you could tell them.

And, so, maybe Robin is right. All of this running around is silly and reckless. You miss all of your friends dearly. Even Eddie, who still you find absolutely and undoubtedly the most complicated soul you ever met in your entire life. Your friendship is more to you than desperately clinging to his ankle like a shaken chihuahua in heat.

Maybe there is a part of you that still wishes he’d see. All the effort you put into your hair, your skin and your nails isn’t just about proving that you aren’t just one of the guys. You knew this from the very beginning. Still, even after your conversation with Gareth that one night, you still play out this plot a little longer.

You like the shiny bling and the tighter clothes that get you a bit more attention. But, you didn’t have to change yourself completely - right?

“Isn’t it time for me to mingle with people who have similar interests as me?” You say finally out of your head. Snagging one of Robin’s fries, you drop down in the seat across from her.

“You've proven you can be a chick with or without that frizzy haired freak. Don't act like you don't like the same stuff they do,” she flicks your jacket, which has hours of patchwork done. You had sewn on patches of your favorite bands. Most of the bands, you had learned from Eddie, himself.

Hours of listening to music together in his trailer, while sharing a blunt. Eddie would get a wind of energy and then he’d leap onto his bed for a solo performance. Fingers stroking a guitar that never existed. You laugh as he tumbles over his mattress, and he tells you that’s when the crowd will carry him - to victory!

You warm at the memory.

Eddie is the only person at his lunch table. Kicking his foot up onto an empty chair, he lounges and he waits for his friends. He’s always the first to get there because his class is so close to the cafeteria. It takes Gareth and Jeff a longer time because they come from the gym. And, the freshman come from the opposite side of the school, so they take the longest to get to the cafeteria.

“Go on,” Robin nudges you. “I’ll see you in math later.”

By the time Robin kicks you thrice in the shin, you get over your worries. You want to patch your friendships up with the boys, but you’re not sure what to tell them. Explaining the truth felt horrific. That you like - er - liked Eddie. Gareth’s confession in the kitchen.

Yeah, the truth seems far fetched.

Your second option is to beg for them to quit calling you ‘one of the guys,’ but that too came off risky. You've never had a problem with their comments before, or their disgusting antics and habits. Once you smell a Jeff fart, then all of the other farts seem forgiving. Seriously, no one should ever give him cheese again. Yet, they do.

Anyway, talking to Eddie first feels less daunting then to come up to all of them at once. But, with your stalling, your wish comes to late. The boys rush the table, hollering and whooping like unkept animals.

You stop in your tracks fully when you see two women beeline for the table. They never invite people to their table. Or at least, they never invite just anyone.

Roxie is easy to recognize. Candy coated red lips meet that of Eddie’s pale cheek that blushes a deep crimson at the affection. Eddie hangs his head, so he can smack a wet kiss to her lips. She uses a free hand to swipe the spare lipstick from his mouth.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie cooed.

Roxie touches his hair in a way that makes his eyes droop low, and he rests his head on her chest. All while he keeps his conversation with Jeff going.

Meanwhile, the other woman is her opposite.

Brunette hair cascades down her back, and tangles amongst her woven sweatshirt. Arms wide open with her slender fingers covered by the net sweater she hid under. She sneaks up on Gareth, and hangs over his neck. Gareth cranes his neck, and whispers in her ear making her laugh sweetly. He touches her wrist with gentle fingers and he pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose with his free hand, before they have a chance to slip further down her face.

“Indie!” Dustin shouts.

The girl hanging from Gareth picks her head up, and grins with a shining sparkle in her eye at the young freshman. She reaches over to ruffle his hair.

You panic.

Slamming into someone’s shoulder, you apologize and you retreat like a mouse being stepped on. Time slows down. You move around people as fast as your feet will carry you.

You can hear your breath in your ears meeting up with your heart banging against your ribcage.

Robin calls to you, but you can’t hear her. Blood rushes through you, and you swear your can feel the swimming and the tingling. Your fingertips tingle when you push open the door into the hallway.

Technically speaking, you couldn’t be out here if you're on our lunch period. A few classes still go on, but mostly the teachers didn’t want anyone to catch them smoking in their classrooms where they shouldn’t be. It’s not like the smell lingers.

Somewhere down the hallway, a classroom is having a heated debate. Voices bounce from wall to wall. Echoing into your eardrums. All. Too. Much. You aim for the big showy doors at the front of the building.

Cool damp air hits your cheeks. Trees stand tall. Birds hold meetings on their branches. They sing soft melodies. Outside smells earthy.

Immersing yourself in the sourness of the damp remains of rainfall, you slow your jagged breathing. Your heart beat regulates.

Keys trembling in your fist, you find your car parked not too far away in the parking lot. Some asshole has blocked your passenger side in, so even if you wanted too you wouldn't be able to get in that way.

Kicking yourself for taking the cowards way out, you catch a tearful glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Mascara slips down your cheeks. Your drowning in two inches of water.

Eddie's bandana sits in your glove compartment. It still remains his with the lingering tang of old cigarettes and sweat. You told him if he left that nasty thing in here that you'd wash the stink out.

You haven't.

Clinging to a tissue, you use that to pat your face dry. Dabbing at your eyes, you don't want to disturb your makeup. Funny how a few months ago, you would be scrubbing your cheeks raw to get anything off of your face.

The tapping on your window startles you because you think a teacher has seen you. However, you find only Robin with a pitiful expression on her face. She waves for you to roll down your window, then holds out your backpack and your jacket that you’ve left behind in your scurry to get out of school.

“You left your things,” she looks at your puffy eyes and your worn out makeup. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you reach out for your things, only to put them in the passenger seat next to you, “I think I’ll go home.”

“Indie is a really nice girl-,”

“I’m not worried about Indie.”

Robin winces at the sharpness of your tone slicing through the air like butter. You apologize to her.

“I’m going to go home, Robin.”

“Roxie and Eddie are only going to last for a day - I guarantee,” her shoulders bobble. “It’s Roxie.”

“Yeah,” you say thinly.

Robin taps your car. “Get home safe.”

“Will do,” you say. “Thank you.”

-> <-

When you arrived at school the next day, you're in class for less than fifteen minutes before your name blasts on the intercom to report to the main office. Robin salutes you from her seat in the back of home room like you’re taking a final walk, before they take you around the back and shoot you between the eyes. Well done, soldier.

Although not as dramatic, you were served a detention slip for after school. You suspected as such, since you left halfway through school without an explanation. Next time you'll go to the nurse, and heat up the thermometer with your tongue. Give her a cough, or a sneeze and she would send you home.

You tap your fresh manicure across the etchings in the desk. Profanities. Markings of once was, and forever will be.

Low rumbles cause for distraction. You pick a desk next to a window where you see the gray clouds clustering in close. They spit at the ground. Droplets of water slip across the glass. You guess which droplet will get to the bottom first, and silently cheer the winner.

Your eye drifts to the front of the class where your chest rises and falls at the next person to walk through the door. All those months of hiding your head felt worthless when Eddie shows up.

For a moment, you think, he’s looking right at you. You swallow, but you try waving. Eddie does ignore you and plops himself into a chair at the front of the classroom. His backpack drops with a thunk.

Tipping your attention back to the window, the rain comes down harder in flashes of wet thunder and lightening. Dark and stormy weather is your favorite. Because, after the rain stops, you like splashing in every puddle until you can’t see the color of your boots anymore.

You can’t do that in your new sneakers. Not a speck of dust on them. Barely out of the box.

“Everyone in their seats,” a man in a blazer walking with an arch to his spine tells us. He hovers at the front of the classroom with both hands on his desk, while peering just above his square framed lenses. Wild gray hairs stick out on end near his ears. You wonder if he’s done this on purpose to accentuate that despite he’s bald on top of his head, he still in fact has hair. “I’m Mr. Clark, and this will be an hour long detention session.”

You came prepared with notebooks and homework to do for the next hour.

“I’ll be taking attendance, and then you may quietly do your homework or read . . . for all I care, bang your head against the desk just be quiet,” he aims the metaphorical bullet at Eddie and misses, and hits the wall just over the top of his head.

Eddie clicks his teeth. “You got it teach.”

“Mr. Munson,” Mr. Clark groans. “Will I ever get tired of seeing your face?”

Eddie grins famously. “Oh, you know you’ll never get tired of me, Dick.”

“It’s Richard,” he clears his throat, then straightens his tie, “Mr. Clark to you.”

You miss the banter. The smart mouth Eddie that has you drooling. Oh, God, please resist getting sucked in again.

The notebook in front of you has pages of blank white paper. You focus on filling in the lines with your math equations.

“Solve for E,” you tell yourself in a hushed whisper. “What ever happened to X?”

So, you solve for E.

You raise your hand when your name is called for the attendance. Pretending that Eddie didn’t whip around at your name, instead you solve for E. You solve for E because E is the equivalent of- E is the equivalent of-

Eddie can’t help, but watch your eyebrows get closer and closer to your nose. You get frazzled easily when you know you’re close to an answer that’s on the tip of your tongue.

You’re breaking now. Keeping your head down, as Eddie burns holes into the top of your head. E isn’t an equivalent of anything. E is the most complex and confusing letter of the alphabet. You swore up and down that you would avoid E. E’s in front of you. There’s no way to escape E for an entire hour. Even when you think you've solved E, you still have to see E living in a trailer across from you. E’s lights still on. Eating. Watching TV. Changing. Sleeping. Dreaming.

Crap, you are not thinking about the fifth letter in the alphabet. And, you are certainly not thinking about math.

You throw down your pencil in frustration.

Eddie waits for Mr. Clark to finish his attendance taking. In mere moments, the old geezer passes out despite his fifth coffee of the day. He rocks back in his chair, arms at his side with a trail of drool spilling out down his chin.

That’s when Eddie moves.

“Hey,” you have your head down on your desk by now, but Eddie doesn’t care.

He doesn’t understand why you’re avoiding the group. Obviously, he misses when you would sit at the table and you correct his homework from the night before. You’re too smart for him. Eddie knows this. You’re more than a brain to him, though. The way you speak with your hands more and more when you get excited.

Eddie likes to pretend not to understand why he gets nervous when you lean over his shoulders to show him how to work out a problem in one of his classes. He pretends to not notice the scent of your soap that smells so sweet and delicious. That the smell lingers when you leave.

What he can't shake, however, is why you haven’t been speaking to him for the last two months. Darting into empty classrooms when you think he’s not looking. When your home, you'll keep the lights off or low enough that he might forget you’re home (he doesn’t). And, you think you’re clever sneaking into the back of his performances with the band, but Eddie sees you there dancing by yourself with a grin on your face that could break apart the gray days and bring back the sunshine. You haven’t missed a single performance yet.

So, where have you been?

You bring your head up from the table because you know Eddie is smarter than to think you’ve fallen asleep. Sometimes you talk, or you twitch your arms - Eddie’s seen this when you knock out after a long day. He'll let you sleep there, but he'll take off your shoes so that you're comfortable. And, he'll even place a blanket over you because you'll start to shiver. But, he never stays. He doesn't want you to wake up because Eddie is notoriously clumsy. Instead, Eddie would sneak into the living room twiddling his thumbs making no noise until you wake up. He wouldn't turn on the television. He wouldn't warm anything up in the microwave. He wouldn't even open his fridge. He would sit on the floor of his living room kicking his feet together, and plucking at the carpet fibers.

You never sleep long - thirty minutes at most.

Eddie thinks about how much time you spend together in his trailer at this moment. You’ve shared everything. Clothes. Towels. Blankets. Toothpaste. Food. Secrets. You've made a mark on him when he wasn’t looking. If there is a way to tattoo someone into their brain, into their heart, you're there.

That terrifies him.

“Hi,” your voice melts him.

Eddie stumbles over his words. “Erm-,”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt. “I just-,”

“How are you doing?” Eddie wants you to keep talking. He’ll ask about anything to keep you here with him. Tempting you like a rabbit, and him holding onto a carrot, he waits for you to bite.

“Good,” you reply. “You?”

“Yeah, good.”

You can’t hold back. “You’re with Roxie, now?”

“Hm?” He hums. “It’s casual.”

“Casual,” you repeat. “Like I said- erm- I’m sorry that I haven’t been around. My classes-,”

“Don’t lie to me,” Eddie’s eyes swell, and you fall deeper into the trap. “What’s happening to you?”

Okay, truth time.

“I liked a boy, and he didn’t like me back,” you stretch out your top. “I even tried changing my look, but that seems pretty pointless now. But, I guess I just got tired of being compared to a boy.”

Eddie could faint. You're infatuated with someone so much that you changed your entire wardrobe. Guilt rubs at him.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Eddie's denying what he already knows about himself. That if he kept comparing you to one of his guy friends that certain emotions couldn't grasp hold of the surface for air.

“Who's comparing you to a boy?”

He had to be sure.

“Seriously?” you frown. “Everyone. You. Gareth-,”

Confirmed.

“Is this about Gareth?” Eddie clenches his fist around the back of his chair. “I swear to God, I’ll pummel that little sack of shit.”

“Eddie,” you scold. “It’s not Gareth- never mind.”

“Wait, who’s the guy?”

You hum. “What?”

“You said you liked some guy?” Eddie pieces together. “It has to be one of us, right? I mean you stopped talking to all of us specifically, so which one of us is it?”

“That’s not important,” you suck in a breath. “Eddie, I’m doing homework.”

He snorts, the flips the page so he can read the question, “you’re doing it wrong.”

You roll your eyes. “Aren’t I usually the one who’s correcting you?”

“Gareth’s girlfriend has been helping me since you- never mind,” Eddie sees the tension in your jaw. “Okay, so to solve for E, you plug in this number here and then you take the square root there.”

You’re irritated, but Eddie is right and you mark your paper up how the equation should be.

“Thank you.”

“So, it’s Gareth,” Eddie presses on.

“What?”

“The boy you like that doesn’t like you back?”

“No,” you write another math equation out on your piece of paper. “Actually, Gareth liked me, and I didn’t feel the same.”

Eddie knows this, but he just needs to hear you say you don't like his friend.

“The plot thickens,” he gets comfortable. “Is it Jeff? Come on, Jeff is a catch.”

“Eddie, please drop it,” you beg.

Eddie throws a few more names out that you can ignore over your homework. But, slowly he begins to run out of ideas. You know where he’s going, and you’re not sure how to react when he says,

“It’s not me is it?”

Your pencil stops scribbling, and if you’re careful you can pretend to be thinking really hard about - what two plus two equals. Oh, damn.

“It is me.”

Those three little words trip you up more than Eddie’s jaw being on the floor right now. You stammer for a little too long. Tripping over the right words to say to him.

This is it.

The moment you’ll lose him for good.

You want him to just tear your heart from your chest and squeeze it until it pops. Make the pain of an aching heart go by so much faster.

“Mr. Munson,” Mr. Clark rose like a zombie from the afterlife. “Is there a reason that your seat is empty?”

Eddie whirled around. Still stunned, he replies,

“Uh. . . right, sorry.”

Without making too much noise, Eddie puts himself back into his original seat towards the front of the classroom. Fidgeting with his pencil, someone might mistake that he’s doing homework for the first time.

Eddie lives across the trailer park from you. How could he not see this coming? All the nights he's spent rescuing you from the clutches of your mom, who, despite being a wonderful host, has this unnecessary plea that you embrace your ‘femininity.’ That’s what you call it, he thinks.

Oh, and now to let you down.

Eddie’s seeing someone great. Roxie. She’s - she’s - she’s not as much of a slut as people say. And, he likes - no he loves that thing she does with her tongue.

Okay, he’s getting distracted.

You’re one of his closest and longest friendships he’s had. And now, you, have to go and change that.

Eddie’s mad. Angrier than angry. How dare you bring this to him.

Two months you kept away. You ran around the school like a chicken with your head cut off trying to avoid all of your loyal friends. And, you brought Robin into this mess?

Robin, at the very least, is a sweet and a neutral party. Okay? She doesn’t involve herself with anyone’s drama. She just sticks to the side of the drama like she's riding in a sidecar, and she takes notes. She lingers.

Eddie rubs his eye.

Maybe if you and he went on one tiny - the tiniest - date. As in, he doesn’t pay for food, kind of dates then you’ll get whatever you want out. You can go back to being friends, and Eddie can still see Roxie. Because, he likes Roxie.

He doesn’t like you like that.

Eddie wants nothing more than to forget the conversation you two just had. Yet, you’re lodged in his brain like a damn tumor. Yeah, a tumor. Growing at an alarming rate, he wants to smush your pretty little face. Not in a violent way - no, he’s not like that. He just wants to get out the tension, and - and hold you for a night? Does that make sense?

No, Eddie it does not.

Eddie wishes you didn’t smell so good today . . . and all the other days. If you smelled like an ogre, he could stop thinking about taking you on that ‘barely-call-it-a-date’ date. Although, if you were an ogre and you did smell as good as you do right now - ugh, that doesn't matter!

None of this matters. Why is he thinking like this?

In theory, he’ll take you somewhere romantic. To release you of your crush faster, he’ll spend the money - okay? He decides to break the bank for you.

Only once.

There’s a little spot outside of town that has the most delicious steak dinners. They have a dimly lit dining room, so Eddie wouldn’t have to see the dress you spent hours deciding on wearing. Your bare skin softened by the scented lotion you bought just for the night. He can hear your laugh like a song he knows by memory. You tilt your head back, exposing the flesh of your neck.

After your dinner, that he pays for - not you, he’ll walk you down the street where he parked his van earlier. He’ll have cleaned out and scrubbed the seats until every stain kicks the bucket. Driving you home, he’ll feel that knot in his chest that he knows from watching cheesy romantic comedy movies as practice for when that crap happens to him (he doesn't do that . . . shut up.). That knot tighten a little more by the time he gets to the trailer park. And, by the time he gets out of the car his fingertips start to shake.

Eddie will open your door, if he can get there before you. Taking your hand in his, he’ll feel the warmth of your skin against his. How right the moment feels. How nervous your breath is against his. How close you are to him. He’ll be the one to learn in first - you're too nervous to make that leap.

Lips as sweet as milk and honey. He would kiss you for a long time, always coming back for more. Eddie won't find himself getting enough of you. You’re touching his hair, and he melts.

Eddie will never want the night to end.

“Munson!”

Eddie doesn’t recall falling asleep. Yet, his eyes snap open. Mr. Clark’s slobbering from the side of his mouth. He’s so close that Eddie makes out the patches in his face where he’s forgotten to shave.

The classroom is emptying. He only catches a glimpse of you leaving.

“Go home, boy,” Mr. Clark begs. “You and I both know you don’t want to be here for any longer.”

No, Eddie does not.

In fact, Eddie would much rather be wrapped in your arms in either his bed or your bed.

Eddie shoves his notebook and his pencil back into his backpack knowing full well he heard something crunch unhappily in there. Racing out of the classroom, he sprints after you in the hallway.

But, you’ve already gone.

-> <-

tags: @hellfirenacht @queercodedcharacter @ogoc-19 @littlewinchester1 @stardustingold @ghost4love @spenciesprincess @animechick555 @foggyfooz @aactuaaltraash @loves0phelia

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson preference #angst

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allfearstofallto · 6 months

Note

hii! can i make a request?

I've been thinking about angsty things a bit. say if, reader got pregnant, would she hate it? how would scara/childe react? in my opinion, id like to think that scara thinks of this as a way to tie her down to him more, plus its canon he likes kids!! and as for childe i think he'd be very very happy since he has soooo many siblings, (maybe he wants a lot of kids too??)

and..what if reader miscarried? i have this thought of where scara would still be cold to her but give her breaks and more space than usual, but what if reader completely locks herself in and then when he confronts her about it they get into a huge argument, how would scara tackle that, would he resort to abusive tactics and would it increase readers hatred & distance more?

just a brainrot, you dont have to write about it if you're not comfy^_^

This took me so so so long!! I'm so sorry if you were waiting for it!!

I don't typically write for things like pregnancy because it makes me uncomfortable, but I'd be lying if I said I do not absolutely fucking adore angst and hopelessness.

Parasite

Yandere! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

Forced Marriage AU

TW: 18+ MDNI, Dark Content, Forced marriage, Pregnancy, Miscarriage, Mentions of Dub/Non-Con

A week late turned into two. Two turned into a month. A month turned into three. And three turned into unusual cravings for foods that didn't go together. Sickness and vomiting clouded the hours of your mornings. Dread filled your body the second you realized what this was. Stress makes your cycles late, you told yourself, stress makes your entire body change, and this was a stressful situation, but stress wasn't causing this, was it?

Scaramouche could tell the changes in you immediately. As someone who constantly kept tabs on your life, it was only fair to assume that he'd noticed your slight fluctuation in weight and lack of asking for your monthly cloths. When you were called into his office, you felt a hot flash all over your body, you assumed it was fear, but it could've also been nausea.

His office was a place filled with dread. The air in the room was too thick and worst of all, he was there. The room made you feel small, the only good thing about it was that he was usually too focused on his mile high stacks of paperwork. Except today. Today his razor sharp gaze was focused on your trembling form as you bowed to him, his eyes following down, then back up.

“Answer me honestly,” he began, hands planted on the wood in front of him, “Are you with child?”

If you could throw up again, you would. Of course, you knew all this time, but you never wanted to say it. You hoped, just hoped and prayed that maybe if you never acknowledged it, it would all go away. It would all be a bad dream. But it was true. There was something disgusting living inside you. And it was his.

“I believe so, my lord,” the words couldn't even completely fall from your lips before you were a blubbering, sobbing mess of anguish and fear. Despite the fact that you were completely breaking down before him, he had a small smile on his face, like he was proud of what he'd done to you.

“That's good,” he said calmly, wiping away your tears and planting a forced kiss upon your face. His touch felt cold as ice, but his hands against you made you want to melt your skin away.

The reaction to the “good news” was immediate, whether that was good or bad was up in the air, but everything changed. The tight obi of all the kimono you owned would put too much pressure on your budding stomach, new one's were ordered to be ready as you grew more in size. Your diet was changed completely, less of the Inazuma raw delicacies and more lean meat and vegetables. Daily classes of calligraphy and tea ceremonies were switched to resting with your feet up or light stretching, everything to keep you happy and healthy during your pregnancy.

The biggest change was Scaramouche himself. A man filled with so much hatred and disgust, was suddenly being kinder. Or trying to at least. You watch him open his mouth to make a comment, only to shut it again in favor of saying something still rude, but less insulting.

The Scaramouche that believed that he could take your body whenever he pleased was long gone, even though that was what got you in this predicament in the first place. He'd taken to leaving you in the middle of the night and going to the bathroom to sate his urges. He'd come back with cold damp hands and lay next to you, a protective hand over your stomach as he kissed your cheek and told you how much he loved you.

The day you saw blood between your legs and felt an aching pain in your stomach was a joyous one indeed. A part of you wanted to scream out in glee, but you didn't want to wake your already on edge husband. The blood that coated your fingers could only mean one thing. One good thing. It was gone. You were free of it. Almost immediately, the dark air that seemed to linger over your body vanished and you let out a sigh of relief.

Scaramouche was informed shortly before breakfast that same morning. You relayed the information to a maid, who then told him, whispering the words in his ear so quietly, it sounded like she was speaking gibberish. His face, his expression, changed to one shock, then horror, then pain. You didn't even know he could make such a face, yet there he was with tears in his eyes.

“Wh-what happened?” There was that tone again. The one you were used to. The anger and distaste for you in his voice. He slammed his fist down on the desk, turning his head away from you as his voice became high and breathy, so desperate for answers, “What did I do wrong?”

You stood in his office awkwardly, even this display from a person you hated, this display of agony was hurting you as well. You thought it would be funny. Seeing the man who pulled you from your home and forced you into marriage in pain was supposed to make you happy, but you felt your own chest clenching, felt your hands tremble.

“I-i suppose…I was stressed, my lord,” you muttered, his already labored breaths hitching at those words. The few months you were carrying that thing inside your body, was when he asked for less from you. He expected you to laze around all day and relax. For your body to fall into a daze like trance of naps and delicious food. He wanted happiness for both you and his child that you carried, yet you were still the most stressed you'd ever been in your entire life, knowing that he had something inside you. Something that would continue to fester and grow, until it eventually ate you alive.

He sat back in his office chair dejected, hurt, and empty. Scaramouche's normally sharp, glaring eyes were wide as he stared at the ceiling, body limp as he bit his lip, “Leave me,” he sighed, his voice barely above a whisper. Had it not been for the quietness of the room, you wouldn't have heard him.

Leave him you did, closing the door as silently as possible and not lingering behind. You felt yourself finally stop tensing, telling yourself that all your woes were over, for now. The thing was gone. You were happy. For once, even if unintentionally, you'd won over your captor.

#mai<3 answers #genshin #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #genshin impact #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #tw pregnancy #mdni

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thebottomfromhell · 6 months

Note

wait: you the moment Muzan was asking that person if they looked sickly? before he killed them I mean what if, that happened again with someone else(reader, perhaps?) but they end up being blind (and he didn't know until reader subtly points it out)? like he asks and reader says 'I'm not sure what you're asking, but you sound pretty healthy.' all genuine smiles and all

I would change the scene a bit for it to make sense, but Muzan encountering blind reader is a lovely idea.

So, also I did this one before others I still owe cuz I'm literally sick, and I always become lazy when sick, and it was the one I needed to think the least. I should feel better by Monday, but I wanted to keep the promise of 2 post per week.

Muzan encounters GN Blind Reader in the scene of the alley

Warnings: Mentioned non-character human death, Implied life-threat to reader and Open ending.

You were born blind. Your mother more often than not said you cried a lot, both as a baby and as a toddler, scared, because you couldn't see anything. The second you didn't have someone touching you you feared you got lost or abandoned, so you cried. You stopped crying when you started to grow up, thankfully your parents were quite wealthy, so you never had problems with being sustained, even if with your current condition living a normal life, like getting a job and starting a family, is harder than normal.

You never let that bother you, though. Also, your other senses do help you around a lot. You can hear, smell and touch your way through most places, so as long as you have your loyal can, you are more than fine. This night, you can sense due the lack of sun rays in your skin, is a busy one. You don't even know what took you so long, since you were only buying some sweets in a shop you go a lot. Since the woman that makes the sweets knows about your condition, sometimes she sneaks some more samples, thinking you don't realize the rations are bigger than normal. Still, it's an endearing gesture.

But the crowd tonight is making it harder to go home, it's too loud and full tonight, so using the temperature of the walls you guide yourself to an alley, there the stones are colder since they didn't get the sun's heat during the day. Then... there is a scent of blood. You know how it smells, since you were little you were able to recognize your mother's periods to the smell in the kitchen when the cooks are cutting the meat. But in those times the smell was diluted, but now it's strong, pungent. Is someone bleeding out? Should you call for help?

No, if it's so bad, it's probably a murder in the alley, if you draw the attention to yourself you might be the next victim, so you make the best to calm yourself. You are blind, so as long as you pretend to be oblivious to what is going on, you might have a chance to flee. You have done this before, not with MURDER, but you have had your fair share of stories of finding people having sex in alleys, and pretending to not know.

"What are you doing standing there like a freak? Can't you see what is going on?" Says a voice, it's rather sweet and soft, clearly manly, you would dare to bet it's a healthy man from his twenties to his mid thirties. In any other situation, you might have even been smitten by the voice. But now.... "No sir, as you might have realized... I can't see. Did I interrupt on something?" You ask, trying your best to keep your nerves under control. You hear steps, shoes with platforms from the west? Is the murder someone wealthy? They are comming towards you. And you know it's not the victim. The victim would beg, run, shove you to scape... not walk calmly towards you.

You move your staff on the ground, making little hits from side to side, hoping it will make this person keep it's lenght as distance. He stops when you hear the edge hit his leg. You stop the movement. "Scaping the crowd, huh? Seems we are not so different from one another. I'm sorry for my tone earlier, I needed some time alone, the city can be upseting at times." Before he sounded as if he was containing his anger, but now... it's gentle, even nice. You can feel hands, not so big or thick, but very strong, in your shoulders, as he guides you to turn around back to the streets. "This alley is infested by pests, let me help you in the way out. Let's go sit somewehre else." You let him, because you are afraid of what he will do if you don't.

You do relax in the crowd for once, though, since is improbable he will do anything to you in front of other but... no one is reacting. Shouldn't he be covered in blood? Then again, he doesn't feel wet, even id the faint smell is still there. Also, he moves you gently, making sure you don't trip or bump into anyone or anything, constantly telling your the name of the streets you are going and describing them for you to know where you are, more or less. He is precise, you know exactly how to go home from here. Part of you wonders if you should tell the authorities, but... would they believe you?

"Here. Here we should be able to rest." You both sit on a bench, there is something off about this man, but you don't know what. "So, what is your name? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." You nerviously grip tight the bag where you have your sweets, not knowing how to react. "Y/N...." you answer, if only to be polite. "Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you. Do you live nearby? Have anyone who is supposed to pick you up?" You don't give the exact location, but you asnwer "I live near by. With your descriptions I should be able to get home from here by my own."

"Is it really? Then, I have other matters to answer to, so I will stop keeping you. We might see each other again." He says and... gone... you use you staff after some seconds of silence to check and he is really gone. Or farther than the staff's full lenght's reach. How? You didn't hear any steps or sense any movement. He is just gone. What? How?

You stay in the bench for a while, could it be that you have gone mad? Is this a dream? Was it part from your imagination? Was the man a ghost? You stay a while trapped in your thoughts before going home. Some days pass, weeks, more than a month, and you get to almost forget about the experience. It probably wasn't what you thought, and you will never se that man again, so why worry.

Then, one night your father tells you to go to the main room to meet his new business partner adopted son's. He is a lot younger than you, around half your age, but it seems it will be your job to entertain the child while your parents make business. The kid is very quiet while everyone else is here, it makes you wonder if he is even there. Then, you hear it again. "I told you we would meet again, Y/N." You freeze, it isn't coming from the child, is it? "How would you react if I told you I can give you sight?" You are blind under the situation, no pun intended... Just who the hell is this guy?

"My name is Kibutsuji Muzan, never repeat it."

#demon slayer #kny #upper moons #kny x reader #muzan #muzan kibutsuji #blind reader #muzan x reader #muzan is a manipulative piece of shit and I love him for it

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roosterforme · 1 year

Text

The Younger Kind Part 33 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You need answers so you can move forward with Bradley. He wants to reassure you that you're everything Meredith is not. And it always feels like everyone else is trying to define your relationship for you, but you want to take control.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, mentions of smut, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4900 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Bradley felt sick. This must have been why you were clearly so uncomfortable since he got home yesterday. He could tell that something else was wrong outside of the break in at your old rental and the cut on your hand. And it was the fucking dirty video he had made with Meredith years and years ago.

God damn it.

As he rushed out of the kitchen and tried to find you, Bradley called out, "Princess!" But you didn't respond.

How irresponsible and careless of him. He hadn't watched that video since he and Meredith were living together. Sure, he'd uploaded it to his phone and watched it on a few deployments before Noah was born, but that had been it. He had deleted it from his phone, but apparently there was a backup copy. And the fact that you had seen it had him in such a vibrant state of panic, he couldn't get to you fast enough.

"Baby, where are you?" he called out, yanking his fingers through his hair. He looked in Noah's room and then continued to the bedroom that he wanted you to share with him forever. And there you were, standing with your shoulder pressed up against the bedpost that was adorned with your paper crown. You looked impossibly young and so sad, and he wasn't sure what else to say except, "Princess. I'm sorry."

You just shook your head and looked at the floor as you wrapped your arms around your chest like you were trying to protect yourself. God, you never needed to protect yourself from him anymore. He wanted to be the one to protect you from everything else, not make you worry.

When he took a step closer, you looked up at him with tears shining in your eyes. "You told me I could go through the stuff in the attic," you whispered, rubbing your hands up and down your arms nervously. "I didn't mean to watch your personal video. I wish I hadn't. And now I feel so stupid for moving all my stuff in."

Bradley ran his palms over his face. The bedroom smelled like you. The whole house smelled like you. It was intoxicating, and he was always going to need it. "Baby, I had no idea that was in the attic. I didn't even know it was saved anywhere. It was from years ago, okay?"

"I know," you replied, wiping at your eyes and looking toward the dresser he had encouraged you to finish filling up with your stuff. "I know it's not new or anything. But... I hated it."

"I hate it, too," he replied immediately. "And I hate that it hurt you."

Then you pushed away from the bed and squared your shoulders, and it felt like you were forcing yourself to keep eye contact. "Did you keep it because you still watch it? And am I an idiot for giving you those photos? Because I don't know if I can compete in that way." The words at the end of your sentence started to fade away softly, and Bradley closed the distance between your bodies without touching you.

"I didn't keep the video intentionally, Baby," he swore, ready to drop to his knees and beg. "I don't watch it. I didn't know it still existed. Why would I keep it when I'm with you now?"

You traced his knuckles softly with your index finger and whispered, "Because she's beautiful."

"No," Bradley growled, tucking his fingers under your chin and gently guiding your gaze up to meet his. "She's been a nightmare for me. For us. That's not beautiful. She's nothing like you." Then you melted against his body, and Bradley whispered, "Nobody competes with a Princess."

He rubbed his big hands up and down your back as yours settled around his waist. "I don't even want to have to think about her," you whispered against his shirt. "But she's everywhere, like she wants to make sure she's not forgotten."

Bradley kissed your forehead. You weren't wrong. Meredith had come out of hiding as soon as he got involved with you, and she just wouldn't quit. "She's in custody now. There's no reason for us to have to think about her."

"But the USB-"

Bradley took your chin a little rough in his palm and kissed you hard, eliciting a whimper. He kissed you until both of you were breathless, and you were clinging to the front of him. Until he felt like things could get back to the way they were. "Let's destroy it."

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

You let Bradley take you by the hand and lead you to the kitchen where he bent to pick up the USB drive from the floor near the sink. Then he reached into one of the cabinets and grabbed a cutting board.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

"Something I would have already done if I knew it was still here."

Then both of you walked out the back door into the afternoon sun where he set the USB drive down on the cutting board on the patio. And then you watched him dig around in the shed and return with a hammer. He went right to kneeling on the patio without any hesitation, and you watched him make quick work of it. With three swings of the hammer, bits of blue plastic went flying in every direction. By the third hit, all that was left on the cutting board was some mangled wire and flattened metal. The stupid thing was obliterated, and when Bradley looked up at you, there was a smile on your face.

He tossed the hammer aside. "Come on, Baby," he said, standing and scooping you up in one smooth motion. "I want you forever, Princess. You don't have to doubt that." He kissed you softly as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "Do you believe me?"

"Yes."

He grunted as he kissed your cheek. "She's gone. She doesn't live here. She has no bearing on what we're doing."

"I know," you promised as he carried you back into the kitchen and set you on the counter. "I know, Daddy." You watched his expression soften further at your words and your touch as you pulled him closer by his shoulders.

"She's not coming back," he whispered, placing soft kisses to your lips and face. "It's just us. And Noah. He's ours."

Ours. You wanted that. You wanted to be as much a part of this home and this family as Bradley was. As Noah was. And you knew they both wanted you here. They were your boys, and you were their Princess. You needed to accept that it could just be that easy.

"You're making everything seem so simple," you whispered, squeezing his shoulders and biceps as his fingers kneaded into your hips and waist.

"It is," he promised. "It's just us, and we'll figure out the rest."

"I don't want you to feel like I'm the one making it harder though. Like I'm the one taking advantage of the situation and your house and your money."

Bradley took a deep breath and planted one hand on the counter next to your thigh, his other thumb skimming along your lips. "That was what Meredith was like. Not you. You're too smart to waste money. You're too sweet to take Noah for granted. And you're too perfect to ever intentionally take advantage of someone. And it makes me want to share everything with you."

You kissed the rough pad of his thumb, and he replaced it with his perfect lips. His mouth was everywhere, and his hands were starting to roam, and you thought he mumbled something about a ring. But then your phone started ringing in the pocket of your scrub pants.

Bradley paused with his hands on your thighs as you held up the phone. San Diego Police.

"You better answer it," he whispered, kissing your cheek and pulling his big, warm body away from yours.

"Hello?" you said a bit breathlessly.

"It's Detective Summers. We've completed our search of your rental. Just wanted to let you know you can enter the house again and clean it up, and we'll be in touch with your landlord."

"D-Did you find anything?" you sputtered, holding the phone tight to your ear.

"No," he replied, almost monotone. "Nothing. We've got no leads and barely any evidence. I'll email you the report and call back with any updates."

Then the line went dead. "Fuck."

"What's wrong?" Bradley asked cautiously. You barely recounted the brief conversation with him before your phone was ringing again in your hand.

"It's my landlord," you said, tossing your head back. "He's going to start making a big deal about the glass again."

But you answered the call so you could hopefully just get him off your back and move on from this headache once and for all. And he wouldn't shut up about the stupid broken window. "You need to come over today so we can talk about how you're going to get this repaired. And then we can discuss an additional month of rent."

Bradley must have been able to hear your landlord clearly through the phone, he was talking that loudly. And when he took it out of your hand and pressed your phone to his own ear, you didn't stop him.

"Right," Bradley growled, and you would have loved to see the look on the other man's face. "So what you're saying is you'd like to wrap all of this up today? Sounds great. We're on our way over."

Then he ended the call and helped you slide off the counter. "Uh oh, Daddy. I think you just made things worse for me."

Bradley scowled and said, "He shouldn't have been talking to you like that. Like any of this bullshit was your fault. Let's go. I promised I would fix everything. Let me try to fix this for you so you don't have to deal with it. You live here now."

You watched him grab his checkbook before he took your hand in his and led you outside.

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

Bradley was pissed off. You and he were finally getting somewhere talking in the kitchen. You were listening to him, he knew you were. He was in way over his head with you, happily. He would do anything to make your day easier, gladly. You always did the same thing for him and Noah. But he didn't appreciate how nobody else seemed to want to get off your back.

He was holding your hand, maybe a little tighter than was comfortable for you, while he drove to your rental house. He loosened his grip a little bit and asked, "Has your landlord always been a prick?"

You just shrugged and ran your thumb along the side of his hand. "Kind of. But definitely worse since I told him about the glass."

"Needs an attitude adjustment," he grunted, passing Penny's house and pulling up to the curb in front of the rental. "Is that him?" he asked, nodding toward the man standing on the porch with his hands on his hips.

"Yeah, that's Sam," you confirmed, and Bradley leaned over to give you a quick kiss.

"Let's get this sorted out so we can go get Noah."

You climbed out of the Bronco, and Bradley rushed around the front end until he was at your side. He was pleased to note that Sam's eyes went a little wider as Bradley marched up the sidewalk with his arm wrapped around you. He was also pleased that you seemed completely relaxed next to him now.

Sam planted one hand on his hip and scratched his bald head. "Listen, missy. Let's get this sorted out with a rent payment so I can get my new tenant in here." Bradley had to fight back a smirk, because he sounded nowhere near as aggressive as he had over the phone.

"I just don't understand why you expect me to pay another month of rent. This was literally a crime scene, Sam," you said. "I didn't break the window myself."

He pursed his lips at you. "That's debatable, since the police said there was no way to know who broke it. And honestly, with the things kids get up to nowadays-"

"I'm sorry," Bradley said, cutting him off, but he wasn't actually sorry at all. "Sam? Is that your name? Sam, she's not a kid. She's an adult. Start treating her like one."

He opened his mouth and snapped it shut again before finally asking, "Who are you, exactly?"

Bradley wrapped his arm a little tighter around you as he said, "My name is Bradley. But you can call me Lieutenant Bradshaw. Just wanted to let you know that I already talked to my lawyer, and she doesn't owe you another month of rent."

Sam's eyes bugged out. "Your lawyer?"

"Yes," Bradley barked. "Pay attention. There will be no additional rent payment. Got it?"

"Y-Yes," he stuttered. "Fine. But she still owes me four hundred dollars for the broken panel of glass."

Bradley pinched the bridge of his nose before he turned to you and kissed you. You looked up at him with surprised eyes as he said, "Do you still need anything else from inside, Princess?"

"No. Nothing."

"Great." Then he left your side and marched over to Sam, glaring at him as he opened the door. Bradley's shoes crunched on the broken glass and he looked around the floor inside the front door. "This looks like about a hundred dollars in damages to me."

Sam looked scandalized. "No way. It's four hundred."

Bradley glanced at you out on the front step before he leaned in closer to Sam. "If you make me get my lawyer on the phone, I'm sure she would be delighted to explain to you why your departing tenant actually owes you no money at all. And we can get the San Diego police department on the phone as well just for some added clarification. Tenants are responsible for damages they cause to the property. That does not apply here. Understand."

When Sam didn't say anything, Bradley pulled his checkbook and pen out of his pocket and asked the man how to spell his name. "Here's one hundred bucks, because I've been in an exceptionally good mood this afternoon with my girlfriend. You really caught me at a moment where I'm feeling generous. Now that's going to be it. Sound good?"

Sam met his eyes, and Bradley really thought he was going to try to disagree with him. "That's fine," came his eventual response, to which Bradley smiled smugly.

"And why don't you just go ahead and delete her number out of your phone. Go ahead. Do it now, while I watch," Bradley encouraged like he was talking to a very dim person. "No reason to keep calling and bugging her when you have a new tenant moving in, right?"

"Sure," Sam murmured, and Bradley watched as he deleted your name and phone number.

"Now, one last thing. You stressed my girlfriend out for no good reason. So I'm going to need you to apologize to her."

Sam's gaze was steely, but he turned toward you anyway. "Sorry." It was the saddest excuse for an apology that Bradley had ever heard, but he nodded at the man regardless.

"Great. Won't be talking to you," Bradley told him, and then he reached out for your hand. "We should go get Noah before we're late," he said.

"Yes, Daddy," you gasped, and Bradley's eyes snapped up to meet yours. He paused halfway to the Bronco and slid his hand around your hip. Your eyes were filled with need as you very slowly pressed your body tight against his.

"Princess," he grunted.

"That was so hot," you moaned softly, and Bradley's eyebrows shot up. "I don't even know if what you said about rent and Tracy and the police is actually true or not, but my god, Bradley... so.... hot." You pressed up on your toes to kiss him.

"I'm not sure if it's true either, but I was prepared to call Tracy," he told you, gently guiding you along to the Bronco.

"Well Sam certainly believed you."

"Yeah, well I was feeling a little aggressive. I don't understand where he gets off talking to you like that. Probably talks to all women that way. You think my mom would have let me talk like that when I was younger? You think Nat would let me know? Jesus, he's lucky I didn't kick his ass."

Bradley had the door open and you were halfway inside when you leaned in and kissed him, tugging him closer by his hair. "I'm really turned on."

"Fuck," he grunted as he heard Sam start his own car and pull away. It was probably the combination of clearing the air about the video and making sure he reiterated that he was in this thing with you forever. And it probably didn't hurt that he took care of your landlord, too. Because Bradley was turned on as well.

Your kisses felt like the heated ones he knew by heart. The ones he thought about while he was looking at his collection of polaroids. But when you moaned his name against his lips and stroked him through his jeans, he pulled away. "Baby. Later, okay? Later."

"Okay," you said breathlessly, still reaching for him.

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

You sat in the Bronco on the way to get Noah with your hands tucked under your thighs. Bradley was stealing glances at you at every stoplight, and you were doing the same.

"Princess," he grunted, turning to face forward as a light turned green.

But you couldn't help it. You felt a million times better than you had this morning. If the video with Meredith was never kept intentionally, then you could get past it. And if Bradley was willing to shield you and Noah with his life, then you could stop questioning him about everything else. It was like the floodgates of your apprehension finally opened up, and you wanted everything with him again. His time, attention, love and care. The fun and the physical intimacy.

When he parked at the daycare, you crawled across the seat in your ridiculously wrinkly scrubs, and he welcomed you onto his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and said, "Thank you for today."

He kissed your cheek and asked, "What did I do?"

"Everything," you told him right away. "You made me feel comfortable with you paying Tracy. And you didn't get mad that I was upset about that video. And then you had a real conversation with me about us. And you never let anyone treat me like a child. I love you."

"I love you, too," he promised, and you kissed him before you reached for his door handle.

You still weren't sure what he had been expecting last night, but he didn't seem annoyed with you one bit. He never did. But you wanted to make it clear anyway. "And later, after Noah goes to bed, I want to have sex with you."

He stopped you from climbing out of his door with his big hands at your waist. "Only if that's what you want. The last few weeks were rough for you. For both of us. We don't have to rush getting back into that, even if you and I are turned on right now, okay?"

You met his eyes and shook your head slowly as the image of Greyson popped into your mind. "You're perfect," you told him, and then the two of you walked inside to get Noah. Casey was still there, just like earlier this morning, and you felt smug as Bradley kept his left arm draped over your shoulders while he signed Noah out for the day.

Then he bundled you up in his arms with his lips and mustache pressed to your temple for all the world to see while Casey turned away with an eye roll and went to get Noah.

"Daddy! Princess!" he called, carrying some new artwork in his hand as he bounded toward you both. You didn't think you'd ever get tired of watching the way Bradley effortlessly scooped his son up into his arms and held him so you could get a hug and a kiss from Noah.

"Did you have a good day?" you asked brushing your thumb along his cheek while he handed you a painting of a dinosaur.

"Yeah. I'm hungry."

"Oh," you said, looking at the two of them. "Today was a little crazy, and I didn't plan dinner."

"Let's get pizza," Bradley replied easily, barely saying goodbye to Casey as she hovered near the desk and called out to him.

You were smiling as you buckled Noah in while Bradley called in the order, and then the three of you went to pick it up. He ordered from the pizzeria on the same block as his preferred coffee place, and when you moaned, "I love when you bring me coffee from that shop," he chuckled as he parked.

"That's why I ordered the pizza from this location. Figured nobody was bringing you French vanilla coffee on a regular basis while I was away." Then he paused and raised one eyebrow. "Nobody else was spoiling you with overpriced luxury coffee drinks, right?" he asked playfully.

"Nobody," you confirmed. "They might write my actual name on the cup if they tried. And I would hate that."

Bradley carried Noah inside and you hooked your fingers through his belt loop as you waited in line. "No," Bradley mused. "That would be absolutely unfit for a Princess."

When the drinks were ready, the barista slid them toward Bradley along with a marker, and he handed Noah to you. Then you watched him write Princess on your cup.

"Am I still allowed to be the Knight?" he rasped softly, looking up at you for permission. When you nodded, he jotted that down on his own coffee cup. But before he could hand the marker back, the barista slid another cup across the counter.

"Something sweet for the little guy. He's so cute!" she said with a smile at Noah. Bradley shoved five dollars into the tip container before writing Prince Noah on the small cup filled with whipped cream and a plastic spoon.

He had it all over his face as you held him while Bradley opened the door to the pizza shop, and then you watched your boyfriend juggle a pizza box, a container of salad and two coffees on the way back to the Bronco.

"You're very coordinated for someone so old," you told him softly, and Bradley carried you around to the other door while you squealed with delight.

"The slander," he growled playfully. "I won't tolerate it."

"What do you plan to do about it?" you asked, cupping his handsome face in both hands as you kissed him.

"I'll kiss you until you learn to respect your elders."

You laughed with your head tossed back as he kissed your neck. "I think it's great that you don't know the difference between a punishment and a reward. You must have forgotten in your old age."

He groaned and said, "You're just making it worse for yourself for later, Baby."

"Excellent."

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

Bradley watched you cut up a slice of pizza for Noah while he liberally dumped the dressing onto the salad and mixed it up. You seemed more relaxed now. He did too. The destroyed USB drive and the open conversation and all the little touches and kisses made today almost perfect. Sure, there had been the details about Meredith and your landlord to contend with, but Bradley would do that shit any day as long as you were here.

"It's still pretty hot, Noah," you said, putting the plate in front of him.

Yes, you should absolutely stay here forever. The desire to have another child with you was always strong for Bradley, but it got so much more intense when you took care of Noah. He wanted to talk to you about it, but today already felt overloaded with feelings. So he would wait.

"This is good," you said in between bites of salad. "I like this dressing," you told him with a grin.

Bradley looked back and forth between you and Noah. Your palm was still covered in a bandage, and he knew you were tired based on the way you'd slept so soundly on him last night. The deployment had been a lot for you, but of course you did everything just right. Of course Noah was happier than ever and asking if he could call you his mom.

"We should take a vacation," Bradley said absentmindedly.

"We should?" you asked as your eyes met his. "Where?"

He smiled as Noah asked for more pizza. "I have some ideas. We can talk about it later."

You pressed your lips together. "I thought we were going to do other things later?"

Bradley laughed. "With age comes experience, Princess. And I'm pretty good at multitasking as long as nobody asks me to cook anything."

"Multitasking?" you asked, eyes wide as Bradley got more pizza ready for Noah.

"Yeah," he replied. "You want me to show you later?"

You hid your smile behind a slice of pizza. "Sure do."

Bradley let you and Noah off the hook after dinner, and he cleaned up the kitchen, not that there was much to do. Then he joined you outside on the driveway where you'd drawn a gigantic crown with purple sidewalk chalk in front of your car. While you helped Noah color a rainbow dinosaur, Bradley took the time to write Daddy loves Princess in huge lettering, and when he was done, you rewarded him with a kiss.

"You boys play while I take a shower?" you asked, wiping orange chalk on your scrubs.

"Of course. Or take a bath if you want to. Go relax."

He wasn't sure what you ended up doing, but you were in the shower or bath for a long time. Bradley got Noah ready for bed after he put the chalk away, and when you walked into the bedroom wrapped up in a towel, he was getting himself undressed.

You took a deep breath and blurted out, "Just one more thing from our conversation earlier? About that video?"

"Of course," he said, his hands frozen at the hem of his undershirt, not sure what to expect.

You ran your fingers along the bedpost and said, "I know I'm here now and she's not. And I know there's nothing I can do with you that you haven't already done before... but is there any way we can buy a new bed? That's only ever going to be ours?"

Bradley's heart was pounding. "That sounds like a commitment? You planning on staying forever?"

"Yes, Daddy," you whispered with a smile.

He tugged his shirt off and told you, "Pick out a new bed. Whatever you want."

Your fingers grazed your purple crown as you smirked and asked, "Now why don't you show me some of your multitasking?"

He smirked. "Sure you can handle it?" he asked, tossing his undershirt into the hamper. Did anything feel as good as the way you joked around with him? You were grinning nonstop when he wrapped his arms around you, holding you and the damp towel against him.

"Yeah, I can handle it."

"You say that now..." he replied softly, unwrapping the towel and letting his hands skim along your soft skin. "God, I missed you when I was gone." He watched you preen for him, and it was like night and day how much better you obviously felt since this morning. He pressed his lips to your ear and whispered, "When something's bothering you, I want you to tell me right away from now on."

The soft nod of your head had him tossing the towel aside and holding you against him as you shivered in the cool air. "Yes, Daddy."

He grunted and said, "You know I'll always take care of you."

Your eyes were so needy as they met his, and he watched your head tip slowly back as his thumb stroked your nipple to a hard peak. He worked you up slowly, always coaxing your gaze back to his as he spoke in a very matter of fact voice.

"Now, let's talk about this little family vacation. I think we could all use a break, yeah?"

"Yeah," you moaned.

"Eyes on me, Princess. There's a lake house that Mav and Penny mentioned wanting to take a trip up to, and there are a lot of extra bedrooms. Do you want me to get more information about that?" His hand was sliding down toward your pussy now, and he chuckled as you tried to rub yourself against his fingers. "Well? Do you?"

"Yes!" you gasped, grabbing at his shoulders. "Whatever you want."

"Whatever I want?" he murmured, grinning as he slid one finger along your wet slit.

"Mmhmm," you hummed, eyes half lidded as he teased you.

While he figured he could get you to agree to almost anything, he knew exactly what he wanted. And tonight was too perfect to waste on anything except the sweetest words and just the right touches. "I want to take my family away for a few days. I want to spoil the hell out of you."

You wrapped your arms around his neck and moaned, "Yes," while you pulled him toward the bed. You were perfect, easing yourself back on the pillows, naked and needy as he took his jeans off.

When he eased his body on top of yours, he let you reach for him first and pull him closer where you wanted him. "Let me spoil you every day? Show you how good I can be? Make you never want to leave?"

You combed your fingers back through his hair as you looked up at him. "I'm not going anywhere."

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

Daddy is fixing it. And Daddy is going to spoil his family. Hope you enjoy your babysitter story @beyondthesefourwalls and thank you @mak-32

PART 34

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writingforstraykids · 6 months

Text

I owe you a kiss - Pt.7

Pairing: Minchan x femReader

Word Count: 3592

Summary: The more time you spend with them, the more you realize you're not the only one struggling. Chan and you try to sort things out, making sure Minho feels safe at home as well.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, angst, domestic bullshit, sick!whiny!chan, anxious!min, cuddles

A/N: Sooo...I guess there's still some potential for more. If you have any wishes or thoughts, feel free to share them below the post. in an ask, or send me a message🤭🖤

PART SIX | PART EIGHT

You left early this morning to surprise your husbands with breakfast. Chan told you he'd have the next two days off and stay home with you two. Minho was due for a photoshoot tomorrow so it would be only you and Chan. He's still been keeping his distance beside the kisses anywhere but your lips, the long hugs, and the fondling of your hair. Minho has been more openly showing his love and you were thankful for him. You know you'd have to talk to Channie about it but you could tell he was hesitant about pushing you into something. You quietly lock the front door and put the bags down on the table. The shower upstairs is running, which means at least one of them is up, so you start preparing everything.

Minho joins you downstairs a little later and gives you a loving kiss. “Good morning, honey,” he smiles sweetly.

“Morning, darling,” you smile into the kiss. “Channie's still sleeping?” you ask.

“Am I not enough?” he teases lovingly.

“Minnie,” you giggle, and his hands wander down your sides.

“He said something about a bad headache,” he tells you and fondles your back soothingly. “I don't know, maybe he's stressed, maybe it's the weather.”

“Oh,” you nod gently. “Did you give him some painkillers?”

“No,” Minho shakes his head, tilting his head at you. “I thought you could. He usually loves cuddling you when he's in pain.”

“I..uh,” you blink at him, watching his face grow soft.

“Channie and you really need to talk once he's better,” he says and gently caresses your head. “You know he loves you, right?”

“I try to,” you nod, chewing on your lower lip. “I miss him,” you admit quietly, feeling tears burn in your eyes.

“I know,” Minho pulls you into a warm hug and kisses your head. “It's a bit more difficult for the two of you because he left off when he wasn't feeling much, struggling to tell you he loves you and more. He doesn't want to force himself onto you, scared that he'll hurt you,” he says. “He…he also feels like you need me more at the moment and feel more safe around me.”

“Oh,” you say quietly.

“I don’t blame any of you, I think you two should just talk, hm?” he suggests. “Now come on, baby, Channie needs you.”

“What about you?” you ask, confused.

“I have to leave for the shoot in a bit,” he says, seeing your face fall, knowing you must’ve forgotten.

“I thought that’s tomorrow,” you admit, a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Min.”

“No, don’t be sorry, honey,” he smiles at you reassuringly. “That only means we can all spend some time together tomorrow. That’s even better now that Channie isn’t feeling so well today,” he tells you.

You chuckle softly, cupping his face and kissing his forehead. It all feels so easy with Minho, easing out every little thing you forget so smoothly. “Make sure to eat something first, okay? Or at least take something with you.”

“I will,” he promises, unable to hide the soft blush coloring his ears at your gentle gesture. He peeks into the bag on the table, and a wide smile covers his face. “You got some pudding as well?”

“Mhm,” you hum, smiling softly as he takes it out and stares at the package before spinning back around to you.

“Wait, that’s my new favorite…how would you-?” his eyes widen with excitement as you nod gently.

“Seeing it I had the feeling you love that one,” you nod. “Like not…a specific memory, but I felt weirdly sure about it,” you tell him, heart warming at the way he beams at you happily.

“I hope you know how great you’re doing,” he says so softly it tugs at your heartstrings. “That first breakthrough was only a week ago, and here you are,” he giggles.

You exhale softly, nodding. “I’m glad because that means there’s an actual chance I’ll start remembering more,” you smile, laughing, surprised as he kisses you fiercely. Minho doesn’t pull away, hands pulling you in as close as he can. Your hand automatically wanders up into his hair, your other resting on his arm as you kiss back. Two steps and your back hits the counter. Minho reaches down, hands wrapping around the back of your thighs, and lifts you up onto the counter effortlessly without breaking the kiss apart. His fingers dig into your thighs as he deepens the kiss with a low hum, and you can tell he has trouble holding himself back. “Minho,” you whisper against his lips. “Min, stop,” you say gently, and he does immediately.

He searches your eyes, a hint of anxiety in the pure need coating his orbs. “Sorry,” he pants softly, reddened lips parted and glistening from the heavy kisses. “I-I should’ve asked first.”

You cup his face, soothingly rubbing his thumbs across his cheeks. “My dear Min,” you say softly. “I’m your wife, and I appreciate you asking, but right now, there’s really no need to,” you assure him, and he visibly relaxes. “You’re gonna be late.”

“Is that all?” he asks mischievously.

“Min,” you snort.

“Is that the only reason I can’t have you for breakfast instead?” he asks again.

“Yes, that’s the only reason,” you giggle, gently shoving his chest. “Now fuck off, Min.”

He smirks, gently squeezing your thighs, and takes a step back. “You owe me tons of kisses later,” he announces giddily.

You laugh, hop back down, and kiss him once more. “Stay safe, okay?”

“I have to,” he says gently. “I really want that kiss,” easing both of your worries hidden beneath this small exchange.

“I’ll go check on Chan now,” you tell him, and he hums agreeingly.

Only a little later, you carefully open the door to your bedroom, trying to close it as quietly as possible. “Channie?” you whisper, and he hums groggily in response. “I brought you some painkillers and water. Do you think you can sit up for a moment?”

Chan groans in response before pushing himself up. He squints at you sleepily, trying to ignore the pulsing pain shooting through his head at sitting up. You sit down at the edge of the bed next to him, handing him the pill. Chan drowsily takes it and lets you bring the glass to his lips, taking a few sips.

“You’re hungry?” you ask, still keeping your voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” he mumbles, eyes already falling closed again. “Feel sick.”

“Oh, poor baby,” you say softly, and Chan blindly reaches out for you.

“Stay?” he asks pleadingly.

“If you want me to,” you say gently.

Chan nods before contorting his face. “Ow,” he whines softly, scrunching up his nose adorably. “I think I’m dying.”

You bite back a soft chuckle and climb back into bed, getting comfortable next to him. “Come here, you big baby,” you tell him, and he doesn’t need a second invitation to curl up in your arms.

“M’not a baby,” he mumbles softly into your chest, burying his face in your comforting warmth.

“You really wanna argue now?” you tease him lovingly. “I thought you were dying.”

“Fuck you,” he giggles weakly, pulling you closer. “It really hurts, Y/nnie,” he whines after a moment of silence.

You forget sometimes how needy he gets when he’s in pain. “What hurts, baby?”

“My stomach,” he groans softly.

“Let me get you a heat-” you start and sit up, but he pulls you back down.

“Don’t go,” he pleads, looking at you with those big brown puppy eyes you couldn’t say no to.

“Channie, angel, I’m trying to help,” you giggle softly.

“You are,” he says timidly. “Hold me, please? I…I really missed that. I missed you.”

Oh. “I’m here,” you tell him softly, welcoming him back into your arms. You gently run your hand through his hair, and he melts into you with a soft sound. “Is that okay?” you ask as you carefully start massaging his scalp.

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “Feels good.”

“Tell me if it hurts, okay?” you ask gently, and he hums. The tension in his body lessens a little the longer you massage his scalp, running your fingers through his messy curls. You don't know how long you stay like this with him, but you have the feeling he's asleep after a while, his breathing growing calm. His head is tucked in safely beneath yours, his hand slipped beneath your sweater resting against your lower back. It almost feels normal again if there weren't that stupid little voice in the back of your head telling you differently.

Chan turns in his sleep, scooting back as he misses your warmth. “Baby,” he whines sweetly, reaching back for your hand. He pulls your arm forward so you're hugging him and cuddles back into you.

You chuckle softly and scoot closer, planting a tiny kiss on the back of his neck. “I'm here, Channie, I'm here,” you promise quietly.

“Still hurts,” he mumbles, only half awake.

You gently slip your hand beneath his shirt, resting it on his tummy. “Here, baby?” you ask gently, and he hums in response. You start rubbing soothing circles over his tummy, trying to ease him a little.

Chan exhales, relieved, sinking back into his slumber. You bury your nose in his shoulder, closing your eyes as your senses are flooded with him. His skin feels warm beneath your fingertips, his soft breathing lulls you in, and his scent surrounds you. “I love you so much,” you whisper, and he doesn't stir one bit, finally fully asleep.

Minho gets home later to the sight of you two cuddled up in bed. Chan's head is resting on your chest now as he sleeps on top of you. You have your arms wrapped around him lazily, looking peaceful in your sleep. He smiles softly and leans down, lovingly fondling your head and brushing back Chan's curls. He doesn't want to wake you two up yet, but glancing at his watch, he knows he should. Neither of you would be able to sleep tonight otherwise. “Hey, my loves,” he tries gently, rubbing Chan's back and your arm to get you to wake up.

“No,” Chan protests sleepily.

“Come on, Channie. You won't be able to sleep tonight,” he tells him, and Chan groans softly. “Y/nnie, wake up, honey,” he says gently, and a shiver runs down his spine as you’re too deep asleep to react. “Y/n?” he asks again, and Chan looks up at his tone.

“Kitten,” he says soothingly and sits up, rubbing his face. “She's okay,” he promises. Minho glances at you worriedly until Chan gently grabs his chin and turns his head to face him. “Breathe.” He reaches out for you, tickling your side.

“Ey, fucker!” you curse sleepily, swatting his hand away.

Minho blinks at you for a moment before a weak laugh falls from his lips. “Fucks sake,” he whispers to himself. “I'm such an idiot,” he mutters and gets up, grabbing his keys from the nightstand. “Come down once you're ready, yeah? I brought lunch.”

Chan watches him thoughtfully as he leaves and glances back down at you. “Come on, pretty,” he giggles softly.

“Ugh, fine,” you groan and sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “How's your head?”

“A lot better,” he tells you, grabbing a sweater from his closet.

“Your stomach?”

“All good,” he smiles gently. “Thank you, baby girl.”

“Of course,” you mirror his smile, but you see the worry lacing his features. “What's wrong?”

“I don't know, something's off with Min,” he says. “You didn't react when he tried to wake you, and I think he got scared for a second.”

“Oh,” you nod gently and tilt your head at Chan. “Maybe that's it. I'm sure he'll be fine. If not, we're there.” Chan nods agreeingly and offers you his hand, helping you out of bed.

Chan exchanges a look with you as a loud thunder ripples through the air. “You know what that means?”

“More cuddles and a movie?” you smirk back.

“Exactly,” he grins, pulling you downstairs with him.

Minho already sets the table and smiles tiredly as you join him downstairs. Another thunder makes him flinch, barely noticeable, and he takes a deep breath. “Just rain,” he tells himself quietly.

“You need help with anything?” you ask him.

“No, it's okay, you guys can sit down,” he tells you and grabs you all some glasses from the cabinet. Chan and you continue talking as Minho pours you all something to drink. The rain outside picks up, hammering against the roof.

“I think we should turn on the light, it's getting darker every minute,” Chan says, getting up to do so.

“Yeah, that's a lot better and-,” you break off as the next thunder makes Minho flinch so hard he's pouring the lemonade all over your lap.

“Oh shit, I'm so sorry,” he apologizes immediately, putting it down and grabbing some tissues. You watch him cautiously as he tries to clean the mess up as well as he can and notice his hands shaking heavily.

“Min?” you ask gently and exchange a look with Chan. Something is very wrong. “Min, look at me.” He does, and there's fear in his eyes, looking like he's about to zone out. “Minnie, what's -.”

Outside, a car suddenly hits the brakes, an ugly screeching sound rippling through your ears. Minho covers his ears with his hands in horror and presses his eyes closed, exhaling shakily. “It's okay, everything is okay,” he whispers, and the sight breaks your heart as you connect the dots.

Chan seems to pick up on it as well, as you both move at the same time. Chan pulls Minho against his chest, wrapping his arms around him from behind. He soothingly rubs his chest and meets your eyes as you step in front of them. You gently take Minho's hands and pull them from his ears. “Minho, darling, look at me,” you say gently, and Minho does, gasping softly. “We're okay. It's just bad weather, but we're safe, okay?”

“Okay,” he nods quickly and tries to focus back on you. You cup his face, and he covers your hands with his own, taking a deep breath. “Okay,” he whispers.

“Remember what you told me this morning?” you ask, and Minho chuckles weakly.

“You owe me at least one kiss,” he says, slowly relaxing in Chan's hold combined with the sound of your voice.

“Yeah,” you giggle softly. “We're okay, hm?”

Minho nods before dropping his head onto your shoulder with a soft sound. “I'm sorry,” he says and wraps one arm around you, his other hand finding Chan's on his chest.

“Don't be,” Chan tells him gently.

“It's okay,” you assure him.

“I love you two so much,” he sighs softly, and you both squeeze him gently.

“We love you too, kitten,” Chan answers for the both of you.

You stay there for a while until Minho giggles softly. “You can let go now.”

“You're sure?” Chan smirks.

“Very sure,” Minho snorts.

“You already have enough of our love?” you chime in teasingly.

“Never,” he giggles.

“Then what's the rush, huh?” Chan chuckles, covering the back of his neck with tiny kisses as you do the same to his face.

“Oh, for fucks sake,” he laughs happily. Chan and you exchange a fond gaze at the so beloved sound, knowing he's okay. “I can't reheat lunch again.”

“Fine,” you giggle, letting go of him again.

The movie’s long finished as you're still all on the sofa. Minho's stretched out on the sofa, his head resting in your lap, legs thrown over Chan's. He's asleep by now, exhausted from his day. You mindlessly play with his hair, drawing patterns on his face in awe. Chan absentmindedly fondles his thighs, head back against the headrest as he stares at the ceiling. You glance at him, gently running your hand through his hair. “How's your head?” you ask as his eyes flutter close at your touch.

“Much better,” he assures you gently, turning a little to face you. Looking into his eyes, you can see the many questions in them, mirroring your own. “Y/nnie?” he asks, barely audible.

“Mhm?” you hum, still playing with his curls.

“Do you…Do you still love me? Actually love me?” he asks so timidly your breath hitches in shock.

“I-,” you stare at him, almost confused. Wasn't that supposed to be your question?

Chan takes your silence the wrong way and nods, turning away from you. “Okay…fuck,” he whispers, his throat tightening. He's up before you know it, leaving the two of you as tears fill his eyes, and he feels like he can't breathe.

You need a moment to process what's happening before quickly getting up, resting Minho's head on a pillow, and covering him with a blanket.

Chan's upstairs in the bathroom, bracing himself on the sink so firmly that his knuckles turn white. His head hangs low, but you know the way his body’s trembling; he's holding back sobs. You slip underneath his arm so you're trapped between his body and the sink. “Channie,” you whisper, helplessly cupping his face. Your hands meet his wet skin, and you try to wipe his tears away. “Channie, my dear boy.”

“I'm sorry I messed it all up,” he whimpers. “I shouldn't have pushed you away back then, and I shouldn't have now. I swear I'll make it up to you. Please just give me a chance,” his voice cracks at the last bit.

“Okay, okay, come here,” you say, pulling him into your arms. He buries his face in your shoulder, shaking in your arms. “Listen closely now, yeah?” you ask, waiting for his nod. “I will never stop loving you. Min told me how rough those months before the accident were for you, and I won't judge you for that. I know how hard you try to make Min and me comfortable, don't think I don't see that,” you tell him gently, soothingly rubbing his back as he grows calmer in your hold. “I'm scared I'm not the woman you love anymore because, well, I forgot a lot, and I carry a lot of baggage around now. And seeing you keeping your distance, I only felt like I was right about that…but maybe we're scared of the same thing about ourselves?”

Chan pulls back and smiles at you with teary eyes. “Y/nnie, you don't mean anything less to me than when we met. Fuck, you mean so much more to me by now. I just…Now that I got it back it feels like I don't know where to put all that love I have for you two and..I try bottling it up before scaring you off.”

“Please don't,” you tell him gently. “You've always been so loving, don't try to hide that. I really miss that, angel.”

Chan leans his forehead against yours in defeat and takes a shuddery breath. “So we're okay?” he asks timidly.

“We're okay,” you whisper. “Can I kiss you?” you ask and Chan's body automatically searches yours, fingers digging deep into the fabric of your sweater.

“Please,” he breathes out. Your lips meet, pulling a soft sound from him. “Missed you so much,” he whispers into the kiss, hands cupping your face so delicately as if you were made of glass.

You only pull back once you feel he's ready and wrap your arms around his neck, cuddling into him. “I love you, Channie. So, so much. Never forget that.”

“I love you too,” he smiles softly. “I'll do better.”

You shake your head and soothingly run your hand through his hair. “Channie…I think sometimes we forget we interrupted your healing process with that stunt we pulled.”

“Don't call that a stunt,” he laughs in protest.

“Okay,” you giggle, amused. “But like…you were working things out and coming back…Min told me how fucked up he was. I know that fight we had and what happened today is only a small glimpse of what you dealt with. So, you didn't really have time to get back home.”

“I suppose not,” he nods gently, frowning a little.

“I can't change the fact that I need to be patient for my memories to come back…even if it's just partially,” you say and gently kiss his head. “But I will try my best to help you two feel comfortable around me and make sure you have a loving home.” Chan doesn't say anything, but the way he clings to you tells you everything you need to know. “Let's go get Minnie, I think we could all use the extra hours of sleep today.”

“Mhm, okay,” he hums softly, not quite ready to let go of you.

“We can cuddle, angel,” you promise, and he pulls back with the sweetest smile on his lips.

Chan gently picks up Minho from the sofa who protests with a soft whine. “Shh, it's okay, just taking you to bed,” he says fondly.

Minho wraps his arms around him sleepily. “You two are okay?” he asks softly, having noticed your sudden absence.

“Yeah, we're okay,” Chan nods.

“That's good,” Minho smiles sweetly, kissing his neck sleepily.

He doesn't protest much as Chan lowers him into bed and cuddles into you contently. Chan climbs into bed on your other side, doing the same. You fall asleep much more at peace than usual. You'd take care of your boys now.

PART SIX | PART EIGHT

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

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oddinary4bts · 1 year

Text

When the End Comes | ch 2 (jjk)

☆summary: Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

☆pairing: photographer!Jungkook x lawyer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there is mature content in every chapter)

☆genre: breakup!au, slice of life!au, angst with a big A, smut

☆warnings: moving, curses, alochol, explicit content: female and male masturbation, pain kink (Jungkook), mentions of blowjob and penetrative sex

☆word count: 8.7k

☆series masterpost

☆a/n: I don't even know what to say about this chapter, just that I FEEL their pain so much :'( justice for my babies

☆a/n pt2: Thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing this, you are the best <3

☆Read The Forgotten Spaces here, the prequel to When the End Comes! It does not need to be read to understand When the End Comes, but I think it still should be read first to have a better understanding of the characters in general!

☆Add yourself to the taglist here (if you were on the taglist for The Forgotten Spaces, you're already on the taglist for When the End Comes!)

☆☆☆☆☆

But love never leaves a heart, where it found it, found it You found it Someday, I'll fall into you That's where I'll be now when the end comes

When the End Comes, Andrew Belle

☆☆☆☆☆

Thursday, July 6th

Days and weeks have passed. Apparently, even months have. Jungkook hasn’t really noticed – he’s been stuck in a daze, stuck replaying your breakup over and over again. Wishing he’d begged you to stay, though he could tell that nothing would have been fruitful.

You had made your decision already.

He hasn’t done anything since you left. Hasn’t left your apartment except for looking for a new one, when Yoongi forced him to go. Because alone, he can’t afford the one you had together. And it’s too filled with memories anyway.

All the pictures on the shelves by the window, turned towards the wall the night you left. The echo of your laugh, in every room he steps in. The ghost of you, just a silhouette he can’t ever reach when it’s dark and his mind is playing tricks on him.

The night you left, he thought it was a joke. A sick, twisted prank, and he believed you’d come back. When hours passed and dawn approached, he got up from the spot where he was sitting in, near the door, and turned the pictures towards the wall before heading to bed.

He hadn’t been able to sleep in the bed, and he’d slept with Bam directly on the floor.

A few nights later he’d made an actual bed with blankets on the floor, and he’s been sleeping there since then. But not tonight – tonight he’ll try sleeping in bed, in his new apartment.

A space that shouldn’t remind him of you too much.

He’s packed almost everything before today. He had nothing else to do, and it served to keep his mind busy during the long hours of the day. At night he usually has nothing to keep his mind from going to you, and he thinks he’s stuck in the moment when you left.

It’s a looped film in his mind, a horror movie that will forever haunt him.

The boys are helping. They brought most of the boxes he’s packed to his new place already, a small studio in the same building as Yoongi and Kiko. It’s on the other side of town, far from where he built a life with you, and he really hopes your ghost won’t follow.

Though he doubts he’ll ever escape it.

Everyone is currently doing a trip to the other apartment, except Jungkook and Yoongi. Mostly because Jungkook has been standing in the empty living room, save for the pictures on the shelves.

You left with the couch and the dinner table, telling him to keep the TV even though you were the one to buy it years ago. And that day you came to pick up your stuff…

Another haunting moment to add to the long list that’s been tormenting him since you broke up.

He shuts his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, jaw clenching as the familiar ache takes over his heart. He doesn’t want to cry today – at least not before he’s alone in his new place. Because he hates how his friends are concerned, hates that he can’t just stay home alone.

None of them understand the sorrow that’s been plaguing him – hell, all of them except Jimin are happily dating. A dirty, ugly part of him hates them for it, and he’s been trying to distance himself.

“You good?” Yoongi asks, startling him.

Jungkook’s hand falls to his side, and he forces his eyes open. Yoongi is next to him, an eyebrow cocked in question. “Yeah.”

“Do you want me to put these in a box?” Yoongi enquires, and Jungkook clenches his fist as Yoongi’s pointing to the pictures.

“I can take care of it.”

It takes him a few seconds before he does get in motion, and he heads to the shelves. There’s already a box waiting for the frames, one Taehyung put there earlier before Jungkook told him not to touch anything.

“Do you want help?” Yoongi asks carefully.

Jungkook steels himself as he grabs the first picture. He already knows which it is, from its placement on the shelf. It’s one of his exhibit’s pictures. The one he titled ‘Where I found hope again’. It’s the sunset from the living room of the apartment he’d found for you.

Seeing it hurts, but he barely pays attention to it, carefully putting it in the box before grabbing the next one. There you are, cheeks red and smile bright in the snow of December, and he feels like dying as he remembers the name of that one.

‘Where I learned to love again’. It feels like it’s laughing at him right now, like life is having a good laugh at his expense. He wants to throw it away, to burn and watch your beautiful form crumbling into ashes.

Instead, he puts it away, before moving to the next one. He thinks he goes blind – he doesn’t see the next pictures. Doesn’t focus on any of them, and lets the ache take over his action, over his heart. When he’s done, he realizes that the apartment is once again filled with voices – none of them being the right one, and he wishes to be alone.

Wishes to be allowed to crumble, to let himself be carried by the wind.

The rest of the day is a blur. He barely remembers getting to his new place, riding shotgun next to Jimin while Taehyung and Namjoon talked about something on the backseat. Jimin was silent, respecting Jungkook’s need to not speak, and maybe it’s for that reason that Jungkook says yes when Jimin asks if he wants some company when the others finally start filing out at the end of the day.

They all hug him tight, tell him that they love him and hope he’ll like his new place. With everything placed, Jungkook knows that he’ll always hate it, because it lacks the only thing that he truly wants – you.

And he’ll never have that again.

“Want to order something?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook is sitting on a kitchen chair, watching the condensation on his glass of water when Jimin speaks. He raises his head – his friend is scrolling on his phone, and he shoots Jungkook a look as he remains silent.

“Sure,” Jungkook finally answers. “Did you have anything in mind?”

Jimin nods. “There’s this great dumpling place nearby, and they deliver.”

“Oh.”

If Jimin notices Jungkook’s lack of enthusiasm, he doesn’t mention. Because Jimin is a good friend – he’s been one of Jungkook’s closest friends for years for a reason after all.

“Pork and green onion works for you?” Jimin asks.

“Sure.”

“I’ll get the marinated cucumbers too.” Jimin pouts at his phone as he focuses, and then his gaze darts once to Jungkook. “Anything else you want? They got bobas too.”

Just thinking about drinking boba makes Jungkook feel nauseated, so he shakes his head no. Jimin purses his lips, nods curtly and then says the food is on its way.

His statement is followed by silence, until the front door opens as Yoongi returns with Bam, as promised. Kiko was taking care of him all day, since she and Yoongi live in the same building. Yoongi promises that Bam was a good boy, and then he leaves again, nodding his head at Jimin.

As if to say ‘thank you for being here’. Jungkook hates the gesture, hates that he let Jimin stay, but he figures he can always just ask him to leave when they’re done with the food.

He had to eat anyway, right?

Needless to say, his appetite has been off, since the day you left. He’s been working out more though, something to keep his mind busy, but he’s been unable to eat like before. Jimin forces him to eat half the dumplings though, and Jungkook reckons that even after everything, dumplings still slap.

Not a lot of things in life still slap without you around.

One thing that does suck is, Jimin tries to make conversation through dinner. He asks Jungkook if he has any project coming up, if he ever plans on returning to Europe. The answer is easy, and Jungkook gives it without an ounce of hesitation.

“No.”

Jimin cocks an eyebrow, as if surprised by his answer. “Why?”

Jungkook grits his teeth, but offers no answers. He thinks it’s obvious – he’s been hating the European continent ever since the night you left because he can’t bring himself to hate you instead. So he directed it to the place that took you from him, and so far it’s been keeping him going.

“You know…” Jimin carefully says. “We’ve all been avoiding talking about it. But how are you even doing, bro? Every time I see you it’s just…”

Worse. He’s convinced that’s what Jimin was going to say, and he doesn’t blame him. It’s worse every time because he has been getting worse. As if adding another mark on the calendar equals to adding another on his heart, and the wounds haven’t had time to heal.

He doesn’t think there’s enough time in a lifetime to heal from losing you.

“I’m okay,” Jungkook lies easily.

Bam offers him salvation, barking by the door. As he rarely does, Jungkook gets up, a frown moving on his features. Jimin lets him go, even as Jungkook mumbles he’ll take the dog outside. His friend remains silent, and Jungkook is able to slip into the evening without Jimin pressing him about the lie.

As Jungkook had assumed, Bam just needed to pee, and probably barked because of the unfamiliar environment. Jungkook debates taking him on a walk, hoping Jimin would be gone by the time he comes back, but it feels too cowardly, even for him.

So he takes Bam in right away – the walk would have been hell anyway.

Jimin hasn’t moved while he was gone, and Jungkook tries to avoid the conversation by cleaning the table, putting away the empty dumpling container in the recycling bin after he’s rinsed it thoroughly. He feels Jimin’s gaze boring into the back of his head, but he does his best to ignore it.

“You shouldn’t drop your job in Europe,” Jimin suddenly says.

Jungkook whips around from his spot by the counter under which the recycling bin is. “What?”

“Isn’t it…” Jimin winces, shaking his head slightly. “Listen, this will be tough love, but isn’t it losing everything if you just… drop it too?”

Jungkook sees red. “Get the fuck out.”

“Bro.”

“Get the fuck out,” he repeats, putting emphasis on each word.

“We’re just worried about you,” Jimin says carefully, still not moving from where he’s sitting.

Jungkook has half a thought that he could carry his friend out if he wanted to, but surprisingly enough his heart breaks in his chest, tears blinding his vision.

“I just can’t go, okay?” he chokes out, and his nails dig in the palm of his hands as he clenches his fists hard. “I just can’t.”

Jimin watches him carefully, before sighing deeply. “Okay. It’s okay. There’s plenty of stuff you can do here too.”

Jungkook gulps, blinking the tears away until Jimin is clear in front of him again. “Can I…”

He stops, because he knows he shouldn’t ask. Knows he shouldn’t care, yet he can’t help himself. Jimin doesn’t press, waits for him to be able to speak. It takes longer than Jungkook thought possible, and he has to shut his eyes and lean against the counter before he finds words again.

“Can I ask how she has been doing?” he voices, words falling softly, almost soundlessly, in the space between them.

“Jungkook…”

“Just,” Jungkook lets out, eyes shooting open. “Please tell me she’s okay.”

Jimin’s silence is telling enough – you must be going through it too. It fills Jungkook with bitterness, with something vile and disgusting that tastes like bile on his tongue. Because you don’t get to be suffering, you don’t get to have made this decision and suffer from it.

Why the fuck did you make that decision then?

“You know,” Jimin starts carefully. “You guys were together for a long time.”

“Why?” Jungkook asks. “Why did she do this?”

And then the tears are moving freely, and Jimin quickly gets up to hug him. Jungkook rests his forehead against his friend’s shoulder as he breaks in the embrace, like he’s been doing for weeks now.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jimin promises when the tears recede and Jungkook stops trembling, as if his body, too, is too tired to keep on breaking.

Strangely, he gets the feeling there’s nothing left to break anyway.

“How?”

Jimin remains silent for a while, as if searching for the exact right words to say. Jungkook doubts they exist – how can someone repair a broken heart such as his?

“Life finds a way,” Jimin eventually chooses to say. He pulls away from the hug, though he still holds onto Jungkook’s shoulders. “Life always finds a way.”

Saturday, July 15th

You’re tired. Have been tired. Think you’ll forever be tired. A relentless exhaustion has settled over you like a mantle of snow settles on the land during the months of winter. With it comes an unshakable cold, and even though it’s summer you’ve been cradling your hoodie to your frame, draping yourself with it as if it’ll chase the cold away.

The cold is never going to leave. You think your heart turned to ice in your chest, and it pumps freezing blood into your veins. You’ve been trying to warm up, but heat is a mirage to you, an illusion you can’t reach.

Heather and Bridget are hosting a dinner at their apartment today. You’d wanted to avoid it, but considering they offered you a room for a few weeks before you found a new apartment, you couldn’t say no. Yet you dread the moment you’ll be faced with the other girls, some of them your friends because they are dating… his friends.

You’ve been trying not to think about him too much. It’s hard – he’s lurking at the back of your mind, a reminder of your failures. Of the places where you went wrong, the mistakes you committed. Not that the breakup was a mistake – you think you made the right decision, or at least you’ve been trying to convince yourself that you have.

But you didn’t lie to him – you love him. Still do, though now it’s more like grief. Though, what is grief if not the next step in the eternal timeline of love?

You worry at your lips, bury your hands in the pocket of the hoodie. You fumble with your keys as you wait in front of the door, as you try to knock but find you’re unable to. Because it means talking to them, it means pretending that you have been able to eat or sleep for weeks.

You reckon Heather and Bridget know, to a certain extent. Saw you wither like a flower when autumn comes, though you think now you’re settled in deep winter.

You think it’ll pass. You doubt a pain like this can last – no soul can withstand it forever. But that would be admitting that he was your soulmate, and you aren’t stupid.

Soulmates don’t exist. Because if he was, why then was the distance enough to break you up?

You sigh, eyes falling to the ground in front of your feet. You take a steadying breath – it does nothing to help.

You’re a coward. You’ve become a coward, and you think it might be because you put all of your courage in that night weeks ago. It broke you, broke the steel you used to be able to drape yourself with.

Now you’re stuck in the never-ending winter, withered and lifeless.

“Y/n!” Jo says, and you startle.

You turn your head to the side to see Jo as she’s walking around the corner, and she smiles at you as she makes her way towards you.

“Hey,” you reply as your throat goes dry.

If he has a best friend, or at least a female one, you think it’d be her. They’ve been friends since before you reconnected with him, since before you even knew her. Seeing her feels like it’s wrong, but then again everything has been feeling wrong lately.

“Did you already ring?” Jo asks as she stops next to you.

You purse your lips, shaking your head no. “Huh,” you let out. “I was about to.”

Jo nods, and you think she immediately senses your unease. She’s a good person though, and an even better friend. She doesn’t say anything, and she rings the door for you.

You don’t know what to tell her. All that you can think of is, if someone has news about him, it would be her. She’s the only one you believe there’s a chance he’s been honest to.

Before you can say anything, the door opens and Bridget ushers you inside. You realize that you’re the last ones to get there – you usually never are. Usually always make sure to be the first, only so that you can help the hosts.

It seems losing him changed that.

You greet everyone half-heartedly, quickly moving towards Jiho. Jiho hugs you, tells you she’s happy you came. You can’t return the sentiment, so you offer her a tight-lipped smile as Heather announces that dinner is ready.

Their chatter is lively. You feel like you’re watching the scene through a frosted window. Like you’re stuck in a blizzard, watching people reveling in the warmth of the other side, wishing somehow that they’d share it with you. And it’s not that they don’t try; multiple times throughout dinner the other girls try to talk to you.

You reply, you always do, but there is just so little to say, so little words your brain can conjure up. It’s like your thoughts are slower – you’ve been that way at work too. You’re lucky, you haven’t been working on anything big in the last few weeks. But next week you will be, and you don’t even know if you’ll be able to do it.

At least Harrison is on the case with you. As one of the most talented junior partners of the firm, you think he’ll be able to manage the case even with you at his side.

You eat what you can, though you’ve run out of appetite before you even broke up. You force yourself, mostly because you don’t like how Kiko’s looking at you. How you notice her leaning to speak in Jo’s ear more than once during the meal.

You’re aware that they’re speaking of you – do they hate you as much as you hate yourself?

You doubt they can.

When dinner is over, you offer to clean the dishes. Jo ends up on washing duty with you, and you work in silence, water sloshing around as you rub the plates clean while she dries.

You’re cleaning a wine glass when she says, “How have you been?”

The question is a simple one. The truth isn’t so, and you wonder if you should lie. You think it’d be a mistake. Jo’s perceptive, she’d see right through the lie.

“I’ve been better,” you answer, shrugging your shoulders as if it doesn’t matter.

That much is a lie, because everything about him mattered.

“I can understand.”

Heavy silence follows, and you pass the glass to her. You hope she won’t speak more, hope she’ll offer you kindness and let you dwell on your mistakes, but you know it’s unlike her.

Indeed, she speaks up after a minute. “You know…” She pauses, and you glance once at her to find her features troubled. “I was wondering… what brought you to this decision?”

You freeze, hands in the water. It’s hot enough that your skin is turning scarlet, yet you barely even feel it. “What?”

“If you don’t want to speak about it it’s fine,” she gently says. “But I’m just concerned about you.”

“Did he ask you to ask me this?” you enquire, accusingly. You frown at the tone of your voice, and apologize as you resume washing the glass you’re holding.

“No,” she answers. “He hasn’t really been talking to anyone.”

You shudder, with horror and compulsion at the person that you were weeks ago, the one that caused him to isolate himself.

“Oh.”

Jo waits a moment, but when it’s clear that you aren’t going to speak again, she says, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t prod.”

You wet your lips, swallow around the lump in your throat. “It’s okay.”

Perhaps that’s also a lie. Perhaps you believe nothing is okay, nothing will be okay again. But you don’t voice it – it’s all your fault anyway.

“It’s okay if it isn’t okay, you know,” Jo gently says as you hand her a glass.

Your vision blurs, but no tears fall. No tears are left – you cry them to sleep every night already.

“Long distance is a bitch,” is what you eventually say. “You think you can make it through everything, and then long distance happens.”

You want to clench your hand around the third glass, want to feel the shards of it cutting through your palm like the shards of him have been stabbing through your heart. You force your grip to remain loose, lest you stain the sink with blood.

“Like for real, without it we would have been fine.”

You’ve told Jiho the same thing. You think you’ve told him the same thing, but you barely even remember the breakup. Just remember holding onto him at the end, and then winter seeping in through the crevices in your soul.

“I’m sorry.” Jo looks at you kindly when you glance her way. She offers you a sad smile that you want to hate, yet it just makes you want to break. “I’m really sorry it came between the two of you.”

You take a deep breath to tame the aching in your chest, nodding once. “It’s whatever.”

“It’s not.”

She’s right, so you remain silent. Choose to seek solace in a wordless moment, one you spend finishing the dishes. And when you’re done, and she’s wiping the last one, you find yourself asking, “How has he been doing?”

She stops moving, meets your gaze before letting her gaze drop to her hands. “As I said, he doesn’t really speak to anyone.”

“Which means he hasn’t been great.”

You know him enough to know that. She does too – she nods, before shrugging her shoulders. “Jimin and Tae have been making sure he’s okay though. Surviving.”

Because sometimes all there is to do is survive.

You’re relieved that his friends are there for him. It lessens the pain somehow, to know he’s not alone. You aren’t either – Jimin is your friend too and, even though she’s a mom of two, Jiho has been there for you ever since the breakup.

The first time Lisa asked you where Jungkook was though… felt like heartbreak uttered in an innocent sentence. Like the universe had gone wrong, like left and right were interchanged. You were lost then, and you still are today.

All at your expense.

“Good,” you answer.

She looks conflicted, pained – you understand why when she asks, “What about you?”

You clench your jaw out of reflex, as if it’s an accusation. As if admitting that you’re going through frozen hell is wrong of you, somehow. You think it is. After all, this is supposed to be better than the distance.

“I’ve got Jimin too, and Jiho,” you reply, voice strained. “Bridget and Heather too. They’ve been helping.”

Jo nods. “Good. Don’t isolate yourself.” There’s a pause, and her features turn pensive. “And you know, you got me too. You have all of us.”

Tears blur your vision, but like your soul they turn to ice before rolling down your cheeks. “Thank you.”

Smile apologetic, she nods again, as if her job here is done. And it must be – Kiko and Bridget walk into the kitchen, and they clearly don’t sense the atmosphere that’s clinging to you. They strike conversation with Jo, happily, and her stance switches to one that’s more relaxed.

You decide to leave them alone, because these three have always been a little closer to each other than you to them, and you return to the other room, where Chaeyeon, Valeria, Jiho and Heather are lounging on the couches. You debate leaving, debate claiming that you have to work early in the morning, but somehow you choose not to.

Is it a sign that you’re moving on? You don’t know.

When you do leave, later that night, at the same time as Jo and Chaeyeon do, you find yourself walking next to Jo as you head to your respective cars. Lance is picking Chaeyeon up, and she waves you two goodbye as you walk away.

You stuff your hands in the long sleeves of your hoodie, as if the air outside is remotely cold. It is not – there’s been a heatwave around for a few days. Luckily enough for you, a freezing heart seems to be a good remedy for the heat, and you still seek the comfort of your hoodie.

“I was wondering,” Jo says as you near where your car is parked. “Are you still planning on coming to the wedding?”

The forsaken wedding. The thing that set everything in motion – the spark that caught fire on years of your relationship.

You purse your lips, shrug your shoulders. “I think so,” you voice. “Yeah. You two are my friends, even if…”

If you’re closer to him. You don’t say as much, but it’s needless. Jo nods, understanding as ever, and she tells you that you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.

You think she’s a fool for believing that you wouldn’t want to go. Because… what’s wrong with wanting to make sure he’s okay with your own two eyes? What’s wrong with needing to see him in another context than this never-ending winter?

That night, you lie awake for hours. Picturing him behind your closed eyelids, only to find emptiness where he should be. The blankets are cold, the fan overhead not needed, yet you can’t bring yourself to turn it off.

Can’t chase the feeling of his absence from your heart.

You seek solace in memories of him, in the thought of his lips on yours. Of the featherlight kisses you used to exchange in the dead of night, when sleep was evading you or him. You must be half asleep – because suddenly you can almost see him here. Can almost hear his voice as he’d call you baby, mouthing the word against your neck before he’d suck on it.

Your heartrate picks up with the memory – they’re flooding in. The smell of his skin, the taste of his lips, the inebriating sweetness of his kisses. You remember the weight of him on you, the press of his knee between your legs.

And then you seek solace with a hand between your thighs, trying to remember how he touched you. How his long fingers always dragged you to a land of pleasure, how he’d managed to keep you there until you were insane with his taste.

You breathe out his name, a soft moan, though it’s almost a plea. A plea for him to appear, for him to never have been gone.

For you to never have pushed him away.

When you come down from the high that finds you in your memories, you lie on your side, holding one of your plushies to your chest. They don’t replace him; they never have.

You end up crying yourself to sleep over the memories, over the July night sky and the dance crew and every night you took for granted, believing that he’d be yours forever.

You cry for your decision, no matter how right it was. Because you know it’ll always feel wrong.

Friday, July 28th

There’s something about work that’s been setting you on edge. That’s been making you want to pull your hair out of your head – if only that was possible. It’s strange; you’ve been thinking about the breakup less now that you’re neck deep in work.

Now that you spend hours upon hours at work, after the usual closing time.

Luckily enough, you’re almost never alone. Harrison accompanies all of those late evenings as you work through the case, as he tells you what to do and you tell him you don’t need his help. He laughs at that – Harrison has an easy laugh. It makes its way to his lips whenever you speak, and it’s been like a ray of light in the otherwise dark land of your heart.

He’s a good coworker. Someone that’s noticed just how bad you are, but that’s decided to not treat you differently. To let you nurse your heart in peace, while he offers you the normalcy of what work should be.

Today, at lunch break, he suggested going out for dinner and drinks, along with the rest of the team that’s been working on the case. Mostly because you’re finally closing in on something that is clearly going to be good, and he believes it’s important to celebrate. You don’t have it in you to say no, and that’s how you find yourself squeezed between him and Anna, the paralegal that you’ve worked with the most, in the booth of a nice pub near the firm.

You’ve been sharing a nacho plate with Harrison and Ian, another one of the junior partners of the firm, and you’re sipping on a glass of the pitcher of sangria that Anna ordered for you and her. The buzzing of chatter and laughter makes the pub into a lively place, and you reckon you like the atmosphere.

You like the plants that cascade from their pots on shelves in the walls, like the hanging lights that shine brightly onto the tables, like the brick wall that gives the pub a nice industrial vibe. It just feels right, different than your usual.

Or maybe it’s the fact that the crew is different. That you aren’t with people that inevitably remind you of Jungkook, even though they shouldn’t.

Harrison’s English accent catches your attention as he says something to Ian – something about leaving work related conversation to the firm. As you turn your head towards the man at your side, he offers you a glance.

Harrison has clear blue eyes. Pale, like they hold the Caribbean sea in them. His eyes are beautiful, sparkling, and you offer him a smile.

He’s quick to smile back, and then he continues his conversation with Ian, who’s decided to speak about sports instead. You decide to join in, even though you know practically nothing about sports, and the two men tease you for it.

There’s no bite to it, yet it feels familiar. Reminds you of someone that used to tease you all the time, and with the sangria coursing through your veins, you decide to jump on the occasion. To let the past be the past, and live in this moment, for once.

Perhaps it holds some sort of salvation for you.

“It’s not my fault if football is boring!” you insist. “It’s just dudes throwing a ball. Who cares about that?”

Harrison nudges you with his elbow. “Hey come on,” he says. “They don’t only throw a ball, sometimes they kick it too.”

He’s got a teasing smile on his lips, and to your surprise you find yourself rolling your eyes. “And the point system? Stupid.”

“It isn’t!” Harrison says, faking offense. “You wound me.”

You cock an eyebrow as Ian laughs, before turning to speak to Sam next to him as the guy asks him a question.

“Aren’t you British anyway?” you ask him. “Why do you watch football?”

“Because I like dudes that throw balls,” he jokes, before realizing that his sentence sounded wrong as you burst out laughing. “Well, not like that.”

“No, of course not,” you tease back.

“It’s just a fun sport,” he insists. “Used to watch it with my step-dad when I was younger.”

Now, the revelation eases the teasing mood that you’ve been diving into, and you offer him a small smile. “Sounds like fun.”

Because you can get that. You can understand the need to love something because someone you loved introduced you to it – dance was that for you, once upon a time. When your mother had introduced you to it, when you were too young to realize that to her, you dancing was just going to be an accomplishment.

Until it became a curse, as you chose to not pursue ballet the way she wanted you to. But that’s old history – even though you still don’t talk to your mother all that much, the hatred you’ve held for her for years after she’s kicked you out is lesser now. Practically non-existent, and you have your therapist to thank for that.

Years of therapy really did help, eventually.

You realize, tonight, how you haven’t really been living since you broke up. You’ve been a mere ghost, a mere winter wind, but tonight you think the air warms up. It warms up into a tentative spring breeze, and you cling to it.

You say yes when Harrison suggests heading to a club after, a VIP one where he’s a member along with Ian. Say yes to the shots offered to you, and you ignore the texts in the group chat with the girls saying that they want to meet up for lunch tomorrow. You focus on the now, focus on the fact that he’s not all you’re thinking of.

No, his big, doe eyes barely exist in your mind right now, replaced by ocean blue and an English accent. At least that’s what you tell yourself as Harrison says he’s a shit dancer, and you admit you were on a dance crew for years.

He cocks an eyebrow, says you’re full of shit, and that’s how you find yourself pulling him to the dance floor, not caring that his hair is paler than your usual, that his smile rings different.

Harrison is not a good dancer. He’s awkward, clumsy, and he steps on your feet more than once as you dance face to face, swaying to the beat of the club music. The flashing lights feel like a haven, like you don’t have to hide in the darkness left by Jungkook’s disappearance from your life.

You let Harrison put his hands on your waist, let him pull you closer, until he’s resting his forehead on yours. Your eyes shut from the proximity, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath. Somehow, that’s what makes you remember – not the dancing, but the intimacy of the position. It makes you crave another, makes you need to forget, and you’re the one that closes the gap.

You’re the one who kisses him first, and he kisses you back all wrong. There’s something missing – the piercing, perhaps – but you don’t let it deter you. Focus on the swipe of his tongue on your bottom lip, and you sigh as you let him in.

But Jungkook is there, in your mind. When Harrison’s hands tighten on your waist, it’s in Jungkook’s hair that you want to thread your fingers through. When he groans softly in the kiss, as you bite his lower lip, it’s Jungkook’s lips that you want to be sucking on.

And you think it’ll always be Jungkook. He’ll haunt you forever – a reminder of your weakness, when it came to the distance. A reminder that, after everything, you’re the one that ruined it.

You’re the one that put an end to what was supposed to be forever.

It aches, coldly. You think your heart barely knows how to beat anymore. It’s erratic, painful, and when Harrison pulls away from the kiss, his blue eyes finding yours, you think his irises are made of ice.

“Hey,” he says gently.

“Hey,” is all you can think to reply.

If he sees the torment in your eyes, he ignores it. Guides you back to the table, where he leaves you with Ian and the rest claiming that he’ll get a water for you. And he does – he comes back with two bottles of water, and he hands you one as he sits next to you.

You think that’s what undoes you. That’s what breaks you, spills the content of your aching soul right there on the club’s floor. You don’t know who’ll pick up the mess – the one it belongs to is far away from these flashing lights. Far, yet closer than he was when the ending came. Somewhere in the city, you believe, because you don’t think he’s gone back to Europe yet.

Would he answer, if you were to call him? Would he pick up right where you left off, whisper sweet nothings in your ear as if you haven’t destroyed his beating organ?

You hate it. Hate how, weeks later, the torture hasn’t diminished. Hate how you believed it’d be just a few rough days, when it’s been weeks and months and winter hasn’t changed.

So you do what you do best. You escape. Tell the table that you have to go, and make it outside before Harrison catches up to you. He asks if he can walk you home, which makes sense because you live in the same complex anyway. Not the same building, but Harrison lives in the one across the small square-like courtyard between the three condo towers where you’ve found a place to rent after Jungkook.

Up above, stars twinkle in the sky. They seem unaware that, after that cataclysm of a July night, the story came to an end. Like the universe never meant it, when it put you and him together. Or maybe it’s you – maybe you created a new cataclysm. Wrote your own fate, and all that crap.

You’re getting dizzy. Both with alcohol and spinning thoughts, but luckily enough the walk is short. Harrison grants you silence, sensing that you need it, probably. Because he’s gentlemanly. Not that Jungkook wasn’t – it’s just different.

And you shouldn’t be comparing him to Jungkook, but it’s far too easy. Especially as your treacherous little mouth asks him if he wants to share a drink in your apartment, as you tell him that you feel better now that you’ve breathed some air.

He says yes, though he seems unsure. He seems unsure all the way up to your floor, and even more so as you pull him in a kiss when the door closes behind you and him. Especially as you breathe against his lips, “Do you think you can make me forget?”

After everything is done, and you lie awake next to his naked form, both of you staring up at the ceiling in silence, you know the answer to that question.

And it’s quite simple – no. Because no one will ever be able to make you forget the one you were supposed to be with until you turned to stardust. Until all that would have been left of the two of you was etchings on a stone, and memories in the space between this life and the next.

Harrison is kind – he tells you that he senses you shouldn’t have done it, gently. Tells you that the only person that can make you forget is yourself, and time. And when he leaves, he tells you not to worry about anything. That he can be a friend, if you need it, but that he doubts you want anything more.

He’s right, and you cry yourself to sleep holding onto Totoro and Appa, hoping weeks ago you would have listened to Jungkook when he’d said not to break up. Hoping to turn back time, cursing the linearity of it. Remembering the punctuate events of you and him, wondering how the distance was enough to undo your timeline.

The sun winks at you when it rises, mocking you as night ends, with no answer for you. The what-ifs shine as brightly as the rays of the morning, all of them piercing through your darkened heart.

You shiver and hide your face in Totoro, hoping one day you’ll be able to evade winter.

Friday, August 18th

Jungkook’s first thought when he steps into the restaurant is that it’s too loud. Too bright, with happy couples and smiling families sharing a meal as if life’s never ended, three months and ten days ago. He feels like an imposter – he hasn’t smiled since you left, and hasn’t laughed since before that.

He doesn’t know why he agreed to this, when Taehyung suggested it. Maybe because Taehyung and Jimin can be firmly persuasive, when they decide they’ll do something. Though, this time around, they’re not doing anything.

Anything other than having set this blind date with one of Taehyung’s coworkers.

Jungkook decides to find solace in his thoughts. Away from the bustling crowd of the restaurant, into the cool darkness where he’s been evading since he moved to his new apartment. Somewhere where the pain is lesser, where he doesn’t cry all the time.

That’s where she finds him. A shy smile, rosy cheeks as she voices, “Jungkook?”

He meets her gaze, finds her long lashes as she looks up at him innocently. He’s struck – she’s way out of his league. But so were you, and he’s got a whole story to tell about you now. He looks around as if to make sure the girl was speaking to him, as if she didn’t say his name, before he answers, “I assume you’re Emma.”

Another shy smile, and Emma nods her head. “The one and only.”

Jungkook wets his lips, and when the server comes to bring them to a table, he lets his gaze drop to the ground as he follows behind Emma.

He sits in front of her, feeling odd as she blushes and looks through the menu. Her shyness makes him feel awkward, and he doesn’t know what to say.

With you, he always knew what to say.

He shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath and then lets his eyelids flutter open so that he can look through the menu too. He thinks, he just has to make it through the evening. Doesn’t have to see the girl again, even though her shy smiles are cute.

She is cute, but she’s not you. No one will ever compare to you.

He takes a deep breath once more, tries to push you out of his thoughts. For the first time in weeks, it’s not as hard. Maybe because his awkwardness is winning over, making him all too aware of every glance the girl throws his way.

They order, barely exchanging a word, until the girl throws him a lifeline. She asks about his photography, admits Taehyung told her about it, and Jungkook settles in his comfort space as he tells her about it, as he answers her question.

It’s impersonal, almost professional, but at least it keeps the pain at bay for a while. He even thinks he’s enjoying himself – by the time they’re eating and he’s drank half of his beer, he does feel lighter. Like he can finally breathe, like the hand clutching his heart in his chest has loosened.

Or maybe he’s just been getting too good at burrowing his feelings deep inside of him. Still, he barely smiles, barely laughs. And he knows none of his smiles quite reach his eyes, and he knows the girl must have noticed. She doesn’t say anything though, focuses on telling him what she does for work, and then goes on to tell him about what it was like for her growing up.

He zones out, nods when he figures he has to, tries to smile when there’s a lull in the conversation. He’s clearly not good at that – he’s never really gone on dates before. Except with Laura, before you, but even that barely counted as a date. Perhaps because he already knew Laura, and he’s struck thinking that the girl in front of him is a stranger. A stranger, yes, but she’s kind. So when she suggests sharing a bottle of wine, claiming that it’s her favourite and that she’s wanted to drink it in a long time, Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to say no.

Even though they’re already done with eating. She does order dessert, and he watches her eat as he nurses his glass of wine, taking sips from it once in a while.

He hasn’t drunk in a long time, and the effects start to be felt faster than usual. Or maybe the beer he drank before the wine was strong. Either way, his head starts swimming with alcohol before they’re out of the restaurant, and he relishes in the feeling.

Revels in Emma’s suggestion to take a walk to clear their head, along the small river near the restaurant. The evening air is fresh, though clouds hide the stars from view. It smells of rain – there are leftover puddles from earlier today – but it doesn’t seem like the sky will cry again tonight.

A soft breeze plays in Jungkook’s hair. He hasn’t cut it in a while. It used to be a lot longer, but he’s not used to it anymore, so it feels weird whenever strands of his hair pass in front of his eyes. He tries to push them back but to no avail: the strands stubbornly always fall in front of his eyes again, and he ends up giving up after a moment.

Turns out Emma is a gamer. She suggests playing some games together the next time they hang out, and Jungkook doesn’t have it in himself to tell her that they, as a matter of fact, won’t see each other ever again. Not because she isn’t sweet – she’s just not what he wants. And he doesn’t even want the distraction.

He did that once, and it didn’t serve him good. Even if he managed to have you in the end.

“What’s your favourite game?” Emma asks as she stops next to some railing overlooking the water. She leans against it, forearms resting on it as she looks at the water, eyes following the ripples in the river.

“I don’t game as much anymore,” he admits. He shrugs, tries to ignore the way his lungs burn.

Because he used to game with you next to him, and he doesn’t need reminders of you.

“Mine is Valorant,” she says, and she smiles at him as if she expected that to make him happy.

“Oh,” he lets out. He offers her a tight-lipped smile, and feels bad when her face falls a little. So he quickly adds, “I took you more for a Sims girl.”

She fakes offense. “What? Why?”

There’s a twinkle in her eyes, and he’s struck silent as he watches it. She seems to take that as a cue for something else, because she takes a step closer to him, eyes dropping to his mouth.

He thinks he’s frozen on his spot when she tilts her head back, tiptoes, and presses a featherlike kiss on his lips. Eyes wide opened, he watches her, until he figures he should be kissing her back.

So he does, hesitantly, as lead forms in his stomach, making him think that he’s going to be sick. Because she kisses him all wrong. Tastes all wrong too, and suddenly you’re burning in his mind, bright magma that moves in his veins until pain suffocates his lungs.

He takes a step back, and Emma’s eyes shoot open, as if startled. They stare at each other for a time, and then she gulps.

“I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t care for her apology. Doesn’t care about anything other than the fact that he feels disgusted with himself. And for what? It’s not like he owes you anything anymore. As a matter of fact, he should be enjoying this. Should be enjoying that even though he was his most awkward self, he still was able to get the girl to kiss him.

Instead, he burns and he chokes on his saliva as he tries to swallow. He wonders why his vision is blurry, and he furiously blinks his eyes trying to keep Emma in focus.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats. “Gosh, I read this all wrong. I…” she pauses, shaking her head slightly, and it seems she’s been wearing a mask all evening, because it crumples into nothingness. “I just got out of a long relationship, Tae said you too and I just… Fuck I just assumed we could comfort each other?” When he remains silent, she continues, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

She’s rambling, and Jungkook just hears his blood pumping in his ears. When he still doesn’t speak, she apologizes once more, and then tells him that she should go.

He doesn’t try to stop her, doesn’t even look as she walks away, head hung low in what he assumes is shame. All he feels is the deep burning sensation, as it settles under his skin. Like a sunburn – he wants to scratch at it, wants to rip it from his skin, but he can’t.

He can’t because you’re gone, and this ache is all that’s left of you. It’s all that’s left, so he clings to it. Tries to keep it close to his heart, where you belong. Picks at the scab, at the wound, until he’s bleeding all over again, breaking out in the city, where anyone can see that he’s lost you.

He doesn’t know how he makes it home. All that he knows is that he’s in the shower, later, head pressed against the tiles as cold water runs on his back. It mingles with the tears streaking down his cheeks, mixes with the saltiness of heartbreak.

It doesn’t cool the sunburn ache, doesn’t ease the pain in his chest. And you’re everywhere then – in the cracks on the wall, he believes he can see you. Believes he can reach out for you, though what he ends up doing is cranking the temperature of the shower up, until it’s not cold anymore.

Though he reckons he barely can feel it anymore.

So he forces his eyes shut, chases memories of you like a dog chases its tail – round in round, in a circle, because he thinks he’ll always circle back to you anyway. He imagines you, in all your glory. Imagines you’ve never left, imagines you’d still run your hands on his back, still dig your nails in his skin.

He doesn’t even know how his hand finds its way to the base of his dick. Doesn’t even know why he’s horny, why the pain makes him crave you more. Why it makes him touch himself, imagining it’s your touch. And with his eyes squeezed shut, you’re everywhere. The goddess of the land of his mind, and he can almost believe you’re still here.

He grunts, perhaps in pain, and picks up the pace on his dick. He remembers words whispered on your skin, your spit on his dick as you’d swallow around the tip. He remembers your tight walls, clutching him, holding him in as you’d ride him like there was no tomorrow.

He remembers a hot tub and the night that followed, remembers breaking and healing with you. Remembers the darkness of the accident, and the light you’d shine on him. The light is gone now, and only darkness remains. It’s not the same – it’s lonelier, somehow. Because he had everything, and now remains nothing. Just the ghost of what once was, and he wishes he could be taken back to the night on the hotel rooftop, wishes you’d never left.

And when he comes, it’s your name that he moans. Like a blessing, though now you’re a curse. A curse to him, and he wishes the pain would go away, wishes it would stay. Wishes it would bring you back, yet knowing he’d push you away. Because he doesn’t think there is pain as great as what you caused him, and then he curses himself for the thought.

That night, he lies awake in sheets cold as winter, weakened by his broken heart as he chases sleep that never comes.

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daenysx · 1 year

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Hi! Just saw that you're in need of requests, and I was thinking about how Aemond would react if he was sick, like he's got that flu that is so intense he can't get out of bed for days. I can imagine him being grumpy and needy, but idk. Thank you!!🥰

thank you for this request, angel! i hope you like it.

send me your requests for drabbles

"come on, open your mouth."

he smirks, apparently aemond targaryen never seems to lose the ability of smirking even though he is sick.

"that's my line." his voice comes out tired.

you roll your eyes, put the spoon back into the bowl. he has been sick for almost 2 days, he can't even leave the bed but he must feel better if he is teasing you, you think.

"you haven't eaten anything today, aemond." you say, pointing the soup bowl. "just eat this, and i won't ask for anything else."

he shakes his head. "i don't want it, my throat hurts."

"for me?" you say, hoping your face expression will soften him.

"that's not fair." he says, as he opens his mouth for the spoon.

"of course it's not fair. come on, baby, one more."

he swallows the soup with a painful groan. "that's enough."

you exhale. "you are an absolute baby, you know that? i'll bring your painkillers now, don't try to sleep until i come back."

aemond watches you leave for the kitchen, his eye begging to stay closed. you come back with his pills and a huge glass of water.

you give him the painkillers for his headache, he takes only one sip of the water as he swallows the pill.

"more water." you say holding the glass.

he shakes his head again. "throat. hurts."

"yes, and it will keep hurting unless you drink some water. come on, a little more, for me."

he drinks his water, almost finishes the glass. you smile then, it makes him feel good, earning a smile from you.

"i want to sleep." he says, his eye almost closed. you nod, help him fix his pillow.

"you sleep, i'll be in the kitchen."

he frowns. "no, you should be here."

you lift your eyebrows slightly, a playful smirk is ready on your lips. "i should be here?"

he nods. "please, stay in the bed with me."

"but if we both get sick, who will take care of us? i think i should keep my distance." still teasing him, trying to force him to say something lovely to convince you.

"okay, if we really need someone i'll call aegon. i'm sick, tired, do you want me to beg for some cuddles?" his voice almost gets stuck in his throat when he mentions aegon, he knows the idea is probably the stupidest one he ever has.

aemond manages to convince you with an almost teary eye. you lift the covers to join him in the bed, press a kiss on his forehead before pulling him to your chest. his arms find your waist easily, holding you like his life depends on it. his head stays on your chest as you pull his hair from his face.

"you'll feel better soon, i promise." you whisper.

"mm-hmm. only because i have my lovely girl looking after me."

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #modern!aemond #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond one eye #aemond × reader #aemond targaryen drabbles

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frigidwife · 2 months

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do you think louis chose/believed armand over claudia in the scene after armand threatens and chokes her? i was under the impression that louis reflexively disagreed with claudia because he didn't want to believe it, but the fact that he also reflexively lit armand's photo on fire makes me think his response to claudia ("he wouldn't do that"/"sit in your choice") was a denial of the real horror he was feeling, that he did believe her and just wished it wasn't true. i rewatched that scene and when he notices the picture is on fire, he waits a second before putting it out, which makes me think his commitment to armand following this scene wasn't out of genuine love, but a strategic choice made out of fear, the same way he martyred himself for lestat to turn claudia. i still see people talking about how much louis and armand did love each other, and i was briefly convinced when madeline called it out (though that scene also contains claudia thanking armand for not treating her like a child, so the legitimacy of the entire scene is thrown into question imo). but after rewatching the season, i don't think they were that devoted to each other. between the actors deliberately playing their flirtations super awkward, the fact that louis never commits until armand threatens claudia and his commitment itself following louis' pattern of chaining himself to his current lover/shark for claudia's survival (a pattern the show goes out of its way to emphasize with lestat's retelling of her turning), and the fact that armand apparently did choose the coven over louis...idk. maybe i'm biased and just sick of the idea that armand and louis' love is some torrid gothic romance when it seems clear that louis and armand's insistence that it was in dubai is deliberately at odds with what we saw, despite how hard they were trying to make it seem that way. even the way they gassed up their first meeting felt staged, and if we're supposed to understand that louis and armand's growing physical distance in dubai denotes emotional/romantic distance as louis' memories are restored, it seems in line to realize that the distance isn't what's new, nor is the performance of love; it's the realization that it is a performance. SORRY this got long, i feel like i'm going a little crazy because i feel the show is saying the exact opposite to much of the analysis on here. in a way i would love to be convinced towards a different perspective because then i could just relax

no i agree with you completely ur not insane and neither am i.... i havent watched that episode in a while but the way the events are sequenced it's not even ambiguous--the relationship with armand is strategic and it has been since the beginning. like i dont think louis's "he wouldn't do that" is even a denial of the kind of person armand is. Bc in the previous episode armand literally almost killed louis for the same secret he's just threatened claudia about. so why would he actually disbelieve her? (laying it out like this i'm realizing why the victim blaming interpretation of louis as ditzy is so prevalent lol.) his frustration reads to me like: i've already sacrificed my freedom and happiness so you can join the coven that you love so much, and now you're saying you don't like the coven? you can't tough it out and trust i have armand handled? the disbelief in "he wouldn't do that" is not that louis wants to believe armand is a better person; it's that louis wants to believe his control over armand is more complete, bc otherwise claudia is right and his sacrifices are doubly pointless. this is the same pattern we saw with louis and his siblings as a human--telling grace to worry about herself, telling lestat how they were four months from bankruptcy; he takes pains to keep them ignorant but then is frustrated they wont register his sacrifice; they see it as him pushing them away (literal knife to paul's throat). louis starting to burn the photograph is him giving up--claudia is ungrateful; this task is impossible. but then the dream lestat which is ofc just louis calls claudia "our daughter" and that's when louis stops burning the photograph of armand. at the reminder that no matter how he tries to accept her as grown and autonomous, she's his child first. and then you can see him double down and regroup--get rid of ghost lestat indulgence to commit fully to companionship with as much control as he can leverage

#Because literally in episode three in the sewer he says i could move on to london-- and armand is like no.#and references the coven there #so when armand says you should leave paris in ep 4--why would louis believe that means safety? The entire premise of their relationship is #armand being like i NEED to kill you. but i wont because i want you. invite me upstairs.#so how is louis going to interpret armand 'letting him go' as anything but a death sentence

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 11 months

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Pretty like the wind

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a/n the eleventh part! I'm sooo sick but still wanted to put out a chapter for y'all because it's been a while. Thank you for the love. For everything. For loving this little piece of my brain. ✨🤍

warning: kids, past trauma, blood, wounds, all the Illyrian camps horror, smoking, nightmares.

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Zofie was sprawled out on Azriel's chest. Her tiny limbs were on either side of him. Even with her trying to hold onto the spymaster as if she were a little koala climbing the tree, the length of her arms and legs barely covered his ribcage. So she was left there, lying like a little sea star. Azriel's eyes were closed, but from the way he slowly ran his fingers through Zofie's hair, you could tell that he wasn't asleep. You couldn't help the little smile that spread across your face. Zofie hadn't slept through a single night when you finally got to see her. She was tossing and turning. Clinging onto any emotion she felt swirling around, not sure how to block out the overwhelming waves. But not with Azriel. The male seemed to be the only person able to make her busy head shut down.

When Rhys finally winnowed back to the house of wind late last night, Zofie was in his arms, rubbing her eyes tiredly. But the moment she saw Azriel leaning against the wall, she nearly left the high lord's shirt in scraps as she wiggled to get down, her tiny feet instantly darting towards him. The same way she had rushed towards him in his mother's house when he had come to see them. No one stopped her this time. Her eyes were full of tears midway through the distance she had to cross to reach him. "Azriel", Zofie had muttered so quietly, so wearily, as if a breath too hard might chase him away. "Hi, baby Z", Azriel muttered softly, "Come here, sweet girl". She launched into his chest with all of her force, clinging to his broad shoulders and nuzzling against his chest. His tiny, flickering star. So tired. So warn out. Azriel leaned down to kiss her head. The need to soothe the discomfort that she felt bubbling deep within him.

But Azriel's eyes had darted upwards. To the boy who stood there. Eyes cast down. As if he was hoping to be forgotten. As if he was prepared to be. Azriel reached out an arm toward him. Axel's emotions were a whole different story. The boy needed a male in his life. Someone who he could trust and look up to. "You hadn't gotten too big for hugs, huh?", the spymaster had joked. Axel's eyes glossed over with tears. "I'm sorry", the boy muttered, shaking his head, "I didn't mean to".

But Azriel only smiled his way, "If I had been in your shoes, I would have protected my sister the same way", Axel's hopeful eyes met his. "We tangled ourselves in a ball of misunderstanding. But you have nothing to be sorry for", and these words had been the undoing. The final straw that had sent Axel rushing into Azriel's arms as well. "I got so scared you would leave us just like everyone else did", the boy admitted through the hiccups, Azriel reached to cup the back of his head, bringing him closer to his eye level, "But I'm here, aren't I? I haven't left".

They had slept holding onto Azriel the whole night, and even now, with the morning sun high up in the sky, neither of them was stirring. You had slithered out of bed rather quickly. The bitter taste of your nightmare lingered. The guilt lingered. The guilt of potentially keeping the kids away from the man who was supposed to be their legal guardian. But your insecure heart played a big part in hurting them all. Hurting Azriel. Your mate... "You're thinking so hard, my brain might boil over", Azriel called out from the bed, making you turn your head to the side.

You tightened the blanket you had around your shoulders. "Are you going back today?", You chose to change the topic quickly. The longing you felt for this man was unmatched, but the claws from your past held you back. Swirling around your head, you painted images that weren't real. For the most part, at least. "I have a couple of meetings, but for the most part, I just want to be here", Azriel said. You felt his eyes on you. Watching you carefully. It was almost as if you were a wild animal. One that could start flailing around out of nowhere. "Maybe train with Axel, but I think that might have to wait", Azriel continued, trying to keep the conversation afloat.

"Wait... Why?", you muttered, turning around to face the male, lying in the bed that felt way too big when it was just you and the kids sprawled out in it. "Do you have a wrap?", the spymaster questioned. You frowned, "A wrap?", "Yeah, something I can snuggle Zofie in so she can continue sleeping". You blinked a couple of times. He wasn't serious, right? You misunderstood him. Had to. "Azriel...", your voice died down as you shook your head slightly. "This had drained her", Azriel stated firmly, running his hand up and down the girl's back. Her squished cheeks looked so sweet, with slightly parted lips and cheeks all rosy from the deep sleep.

You shook your head once more, "You can't go around wearing her against your chest". He was a spymaster of the night court. A predator. A scary male. Not a family man. At least not in front of the people in power. "Why not?", Azriel asked as if he quite literally didn't understand why this was making you confused. "To a meeting?", you questioned his choice once more, but he only shrugged, "She needs me; I rather know she's sleeping than wonder how much she can go on without a proper rest". Your heart swelled, beating just a tad stronger. You tilted your head slightly, watching them. Watching the way the two kids had melted again, Azriel, wondering if he knew just how much they loved him. How much you wanted him to take them away from the place they had to grow up in? You opened your mouth but closed it quickly.

"I have to go back to the sanctuary", you breathed out after a heartbeat. You didn't want to go. That was the last place you wanted to be, but you felt obligated to. "You don't have to", Azriel stated calmly. "I have duties", You laid down the well-learned lines. Making sure there was no way to detect a tremble in your voice. "You're off duty till that attack is taken care of", he was quick to remind you, and you knew. You knew, but... "I have...", you muttered, feeling your hands turning into fists beneath the blanket, the scabbing skin ripping beneath the bandages. Azriel let out a breath, taking a moment to let you breathe before saying, "You don't have to, but if you want to, I will take you".

It all felt so weird. Azriel was still waiting for someone to trip over an empty bottle and wake him up. Mirthroot to wear off and chase the illusions away. He had held you last night. Had even kissed you a couple of times. You were there. You had to be because he felt the warmth from your skin, and you felt so close. The bond had been singing quietly. Yes, the kissing died down quickly. Yes, all you had done for the most part was lay your head on his shoulder. Breathing. Pulling yourself together. And Azriel stood there. He stood there with his hands on your hips, like he always did. He felt the guilt. The way you questioned your choice of bring Elain into this, the way you felt jealous of her, the way it ate at you. Your self-esteem. So he stood there. Letting you be in the same space. Chasing the fear away. How much was going on in that head of yours? How much of it was still a mystery to him?

"You're listening?", Azriel blinked a couple of times, only to be met with Rhys looking at him with an annoyed expression. He was thinking too hard himself and stroking Zofie's hair had put Azriel in a trance of sorts. You had ripped the black sheets up just so you two could fasten the girl against the spymaster's chest. She hadn't stirred even once. If not for the raising of her chest, one could mistake her for being dead.

"She has raw magic running through her", Rhys stated, his own eyes fixed on the slumbering face. Azriel hummed. He had suspected that there was more to Zofie as well, by the handful of emotions she, not doubt without knowing, released into his system by touch alone. "Yeah, hence why she's sleeping", Azriel nodded. Making a mental note to find someone who could teach her how to control the gift that she had. But not now. Not everything at once.

"Come on, tell me about the camps", Azriel nodded towards the pile of papers that the three of them had been ignoring for the past hour. Catching up with his brothers was nice, but not what Azriel needed now. Rhysand swirled the whiskey in his glass, taking a slow sip. "It was a setup", the high lord breathed. Azriel growled at that, "Rhys, stop playing", that was as clear as day. It was planned. Anyone with a working brain cell could tell. The question was, why? And by whom?

"We found a couple of leads, but they are questionable", Cassian added, crossing his arms over his chest as he spoke. "Why would they target her? Because of her magic?", Azriel questioned. He had run through the list of logical reasons over and over again, and nothing else made sense. It had to be the magic. The fact that the sanctuary used your powers to lead their missions.

"Yes and no", Rhys breathed, his eyes falling on the painting of his mate that hung in his office. Azriel had found him staring at it more than once. Had made fun of it more than once. But now he knew better. Rhys found peace in it. He found peace in Feyre, and Azriel couldn't hold it against him. "They have unpaid debts with her. Well, that's what they believe", the high lord added. Azriel shook his head; if not for Zofie, who was snuggled against him, he would be hitting his firsts against the table by now, "Rhys, you're talking in riddles, and that's pissing me off". The high lord turned to meet his brother's eyes, "Has she told you how she ended up in the sanctuary?" No, and to be fair, Azriel had just naively believed that you loved the job, and it was simple like that. But with the importance that everyone has placed on your magic, it seemed to be a whole different story. Not to mention another thing that was making the territorial male within him stir as he said, "No, but I assume you do". It was clear from the way Rhys had looked at you that night on the balcony. There was more. Rhys, too, had played a part in your life. And Azriel knew that Rhys had sought someone out when the panic of losing Feyre had almost driven him to madness, but he never thought that it would have been you.

"You know I can't...", Rhys breathed, but Azriel was quick to cut him off, "Tell me one thing, then. Is this related to the thing that presumably chased her in the woods up the hill?", from the way the two males nearly pealed, Azriel knew the answer without words. "Chased her?", Rhys leaned forward, brows furrowed. "No one can get near the house of wind...", Rhys put a finger up to silence Cassian. Azriel held his high lord's gaze. A pang of almost jealousy pierced him. Rhys knew more than Azriel did. But until the moment you felt comfortable opening up, he would have to trust Rhys's knowledge and judgment. "Azriel. Who chased her?", so the spymaster told them everything that he knew and saw just the other night.

The place seemed colder. It was colder and much more suffocating as you walked through the white corridors. You could hear the kids singing from the main communal hall. The sound of their voices was the only thing soothing you now. You had become used to this place. You had sworn to never leave it. What was out there anyway? What did they have that you couldn't get here? The answer was Azriel. You knew that now. Your mind swirled around his warm hands. The comfort that washed over you when he was close. Then why were you so afraid to let yourself love him? To trust once more.

The clicking of Padme's quill pen filled the empty hallway. You hadn't even realized that you had once again returned to her office after finalizing the paperwork she had asked you to summarize for her. The high prestress didn't even lift her head as you stepped in, carefully lowering the folders on her desk.

"When will you be fit to go on another mission? The situation in the camps is unsettling", she said calmly, continuing to write. You stilled. For the first time in forever, your head started to scream—never, I'm not going back. I will never face them again. But you pushed the thoughts aside, "I can't summon; my hands haven't healed", you turned your still-bandaged palms in front of her. But Padme only let out a little chuckle, "Haven't you, or are you not letting them heal?", the priestess met your gaze. Piercing through your walls. You knew she would never buy it. You had healing magic running through your blood. This should have been healed the moment your body was free from iron. But you had prevented it from...

"The children must be returned to the sanctuary", the words made your blood freeze over, big eyes darting up to meet her, "Padme, don't do this". You were ready to beg. You would not let go of them. You would bear your cross, but the kids will not live a life of isolation just because of you. "They need to continue their education", Padme reached for another book, as if she wasn't having the most important conversation with you now. "They are learning alongside the high lord's son", you bit back, trying to contain your emotions but feeling your magic sizzling without your veins. "You are willing to break their hearts like that? What will happen when this pink mirage fades?", the high priestess stated bluntly, without a doubt not missing the way a shiver ran through your body.

"It won't", you breathed out. You were willing to do anything and give up everything if only Axel and Zofie could finally have the family they deserved. "You're sure?", Padme leaned across the table, watching your every move. Scanning you. Assessing you. "A sacrifice lamb and her two children", she breathed, almost in amazement. "You're not a princess, and he sure won't be your prince charming", Padme slapped the book shut, making a shiver run down your spine. Everything went dark for a moment before your knees hit the solid surface.

"Hold it steady, but don't tighten your grip on it", Azriel said in his soldier's tone. "That's you denying your own words", Axel grumbled, "How can you hold something steady but not have a firm grip on it". Azriel couldn't help but chuckle. He had forgotten the frustration one had to go through to learn the basics of fighting. Sure, he had trained with Feyre and then Nesta when she finally warmed up to the idea, but it would never be the same as teaching a child. A youngling. "If you hold it too firmly when you aim to throw", Azriel said, tightening the grip on his wooden knife's hilt, "It will affect the throw; it will be hard to hit the target". Azriel moved stepped forward. "But if you'll hold it loosely", the spymaster quickly knocked the weapon out of the boy's hands, "Your opponent will use that again."

Azriel had offered flying lessons, but Axel had denied them. "I want to learn to protect them", the boy muttered, "Actually protect them". And who was he to deny him? Azriel was already at the camp, learning the basics at a similar age. "That's just not fair", the boy grumbled, leaning forward to reach for the wooden knife, only for Azriel to flick it further away. "Hey!", Axel protested, making Azriel let out a chuckle. Even Zofie, who woke up not that long ago, giggled from the side of the training ground. You could barely see her beneath the layers Azriel had wrapped her up in. She had turned into a little floating head. But she was warm, and the chilly breeze would not nibble at her, that's all that Azriel cared about.

Azriel was ready to beat Axel to it once more until Zofie muttered, "Nyx said he'd teach me", the spymaster turned back quickly. "Pardon? Ow!", a light stab pierced through his left foot as Axel jabbed the wooden knife there, already running off laughing like a manic. "Why was Nyx talking to you about knives?", Azriel pulled his attention back to the little girl. An odd sense of protectiveness bubbled within him. Zofie shrugged her shoulders, "He just said that if I wanted to learn something, I could ask him". It was all innocent and sweet, but Azriel still shook his head. "Why don't you ask me first, yeah? Just to make sure", he cupped her crimson cheek. Under his dead body, will any boy teach his star anything? He'll have a word with Rhys about this. Nyx was way older too; he needed to understand the importance of suggestions like this. "Okay, little monsters, let's go inside before you both turn into ice cubes", he quickly scooped Zofie up, making the girl let out a chuckle, sending a handful of his shadows to drag a still-laughing Axel into the house as well.

When you yanked the doors of the house of wind open, you couldn't even identify the emotions that swirled within you. Padme had dumped down the slope of the mountain. You could see the house, but the walk there was quite steep. You had gritted your teeth. Had cursed her. But the scary thing was that you couldn't feel Azriel. It's like someone ripped the part that belonged just to him out. Leaving a big chunk of nothingness.

Azriel's head swirled towards the door, "What the hell are you doing here?", he was out of his seat almost immediately. You had agreed that he would come pick you up. You would pull at the bond, and he would be there in a heartbeat. He should have known that something was not right from just how silent the bond was. Too quiet. Too little emotions slipping by. No emotions.

"How did you get here?", Azriel quickly reached for you, looking you over. You just shook your head. You had no idea how Padme had done that, or was it even her in the first place? It was all too tangled up. There was so much tension everywhere. Your hands were throbbing beneath the bandages. You just wanted to let it all go. To just...

A warm palm cups your cold cheek. "You've been crying", Azriel muttered, turning your head even more toward him so he could take a better look. "I have not", you muttered, biting the inside of your cheek instantly. "You have, love", he said softly, and you couldn't help but let out a shaky breath in return. "No", you muttered. "Y/N", Azriel said a lot more firmly, and you didn't skip a beat, matching his tone, "Azriel". Your eyes fell on him. Watching him. Every little, tiny detail. A little scar ran over the side of his face. Faded and barely visible, but...

You quickly closed your eyes. "Tell me this is real", you breathed out, pulling away so you could press your aching palms into your eyes, "Tell me that you won't change your mind". Azriel reached for you, carefully touching for your wrists but pulling them away from your face only when he felt your palms sagging in his hands.

"Who's feeding you these thoughts, hm?", Azriel said softly, moving your arms around his torso so you would hold onto him. "Who's tarnishing every little spark of hope you have?", he breathed out, reaching for you himself so you two could be wrapped up in one another. "You don't understand", you said quietly, an angry tear running down your cheek. Azriel quickly reached to brush it away. Taking a heartbeat to breathe before saying, "I don't; you're right, there's a lot I don't know", he admitted, "But I want to, and if me knowing and it can help", Azriel said, moving his palm to cup your cheek, "Then I'm asking you to tell me because I can't watch you pick yourself apart, my love. Not when I might find a way to help". You let out a choked-out sob, tightening your grip around him. "I don't deserve you", you breathed, "You don't deserve this mess". Azriel shook his head, "Someone up above mated us. We're one. I want us to be one".

You took a shaky breath. This was the moment that could make or break it. Unleashing the darkest parts of yourself. Walking through the cold, bloody night. What if he ran away afterwards? What if his love wouldn't hold? But the warmth within your chest. One that blossomed so deeply within you, urged you to let go of the burden that ate at your soul. "Then it's better if I show you", you breathed out, knowing that if you staggered even for a moment longer, you would find a handful of reasons why you shouldn't do it.

Azriel frowned slightly, "Show me?" A cold pain pierced him, one that never meant any good. "If I'm the one thinking of the place when we winnow, will I be able to sway your magic?", you asked, already feeling your skin go clammy. "I mean, I can open my mental shields for you", Azriel stuttered, trying to understand what was happening. You nodded, "Then I'd like to show you something". Your eyes met his worried gaze, and all you could offer was a sad smile as you clasped his way bigger palms.

You knocked gently on Azriel's mental shields, and he welcomed you in without hesitation. You felt the cold swirl building up around you until all you saw and felt was the feeling of Azriel's hands. The coldness didn't give up, even when the mist faded away. Replaced by an icy wind that rippled both of your clothes. Dread ripped deep within your skin. You closed your eyes quickly, trying to steady your breathing.

"What is this place?", Azriel's voice cut through the roaring wind. You blinked a couple of times. Letting the broken, burnt-down houses, rotten fences, fallen clotheslines, and sheds with fallen roofs fill your senses. Looking at this now, you would never imagine it looking any different. A year or two, and the last bits of wood would fall in full. Nothing would be left here. Nothing but one thing. You stepped forward. Walking towards the center of the camp. Towards the cube-shaped cage, wines sprouting all over the bars now. You turned back to Azriel, catching his lost eyes, muttering "This is home".

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Taglist: @naturakaashi @hoemadegrace @just-m-2 @thereadinggremlin @i-am-a-lost-girl16

#azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel acotar x reader #azriel acotar x you #azriel imagine #azriel acotar imagine #azriel x oc #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotat imagine #acotar x you #acotar x reader

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creedslove · 1 year

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POOL PARTY ☀️

Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: Even though you're sick, you still went to Pedro's pool party - which you discovered was made only for you, you don't feel well, but you can't disappoint him by not taking a swim with him

Warnings: fluff with no plot, just fluff, a teeny tiny bit of angst and sexual tension, but again, fluff

A/N: this is silly and lame and definitely not the kind of story I usually love writing but I am sick and I need comfort so someone bring me pedro pascal over here so I can hug the hell outta him and tell him how precious he really is

2.4k words

You spent the whole morning thinking of a way you could say no to Pedro.

From the moment you woke up and felt your throat itchy at first, only to feel it burning and finally going completely sore in the symptoms of inflammation you were already so used to, to the sneezes that annoyed you every couple of minutes and the overall feeling you had just been hit by a truck made it pretty clear it was not the ideal day for a pool party.

You cursed yourself, the weather, your life, everything. Out of all the days in your life, why did you have to get sick exactly the day Pedro had invited you - and begged you to show up to a pool party?

You and Pedro were… complicated.

You were friends, like, real good friends at first. And then you became a couple, but you two decided being a couple wouldn't work. You hated the exposure he had, it wasn't his fault of course, but it baffled you how he handled going out for a coffee, for lunch, or simply walking down the street and being photographed and filmed all the time. You just didn't like the feeling you would have to watch your back every time so you could have a tiny bit of privacy. No holding hands, no kissing, just walking around like two acquaintances, either that or having your photo all over gossip websites, comments bombarding it all the time calling you and Pedro horrible things, fans claiming to being jealous and hating you for dating him, as he was supposed to be theirs and no one else's. It was too much.

On Pedro's part, it was hard to balance a relationship with his working schedule, he worked hard and that meant he was most of the time unavailable, unless you traveled with him to where he was shooting, which was impossible because you had your own life, your own job and as much as you would've become a trophy wife for him and only Pedro, you guys never got to this point.

The affection, the attraction and the spark was still there, so even after you broke up, you decided to be friends again.

But maybe, just maybe, you hugged too much, cuddled too much and kissed too much as friends.

And that was why most of his co-stars hated you.

Pedro always tried to be as discreet as possible, he never admitted bluntly though you never directly asked, you didn't have to, you knew him enough for that. He was a flirty little shit, he was handsome and sexy and they were always gorgeous. It was obvious he very often had affairs with them. And if he was in a near enough location and asked you to visit him, or if you bumped into each other at a restaurant or even if you went to a dinner party at his home and they happened to be there, they immediately hated you.

Not because of you though, you always acted nicely to anyone and it would be no exception to them, but you wouldn't kiss their ass just because they were famous either.

Of course you would keep your distance from Pedro if they were around. You wouldn't hug him as much or hold his hand but there was something there and neither of you could control it.

It was always exchanged glances, or inside jokes, it was obvious to everybody but the two of you, you were just two stubborn idiots in love.

You hadn't seen each other in over a month, he was all over the country working, shooting, attending events and you were on you well-deserved vacation, so when he finally went back home, he'd texted you about the pool party he was hosting.

Pedro knew you loved pool parties and you had spent countless hours swimming in his, so he was just so excited to have you over, he forgot to mention a small detail: you were his only guest.

You were also so eager to see him, you missed that man dearly and you thought he would be in Cannes enjoying the high life but when he told you he was back home you couldn't control your excitement. If it were up to you, you would've gone straight to his house or welcomed him at yours, it didn't matter, just to see each other. But the weekly appointments you had got the best of you and you forced yourself to wait for the weekend.

And then you woke up with a cold and you wanted to cry in frustration and sadness.

You could just not show up, but that was really not an option, and you could also tell him you were too sick to go, the only thing you'd have to face would be his puppy brown eyes looking at you as if you'd shattered his heart, and you didn't want that.

So you grabbed all the cold meds you had at home, took them in one dose, packed yourself a bag with your clothes and drove to his house. You figured Pedro would be distracted enough with his guests and he wouldn't mind if you just chilled on his couch, maybe watched something on TV and had some snacks before heading home, plus he would understand if you didn't dip yourself in the pool. Besides, if by any chance any co-star of his were there, he would probably pay much more attention to them in their tiny bikini than you anyways.

So when you arrived there and realized you were the only one, you thought you were too early or maybe you'd misread the invitation and screwed up the dates?

But there he was, Pedro in just his shorts and shirt, with a wide smile welcoming you to his place.

Your heart skipped a beat, he was so handsome and though he knew the effect he had on women - and men, and everybody really, you felt your heartache to know he didn't acknowledge how painfully handsome he was. He didn't see himself the way you did, and it was a shame because you saw him like the best thing that happened to you.

You couldn't help but smile back at him, grabbing your things and exiting the car.

He waited for you with his arms open, because Pedro didn't do formal greetings, he did hugs, and you loved it.

You flew to his arms and squealed as he wrapped his strong ones around your body, lifting you up softly and twirling you.

You giggled as he put you down and watched you. He really watched you. Taking his time observing you, as if you hadn't seen each other in years, when in reality it had been what? A month? Six weeks?

Still, you were so happy to be next to him you almost forgot about your cold. Almost, but eventually, you felt another sting on your throat and groaned frustrated, which made Pedro frown.

"I almost didn't make it, Pedro… I woke up like that" you said and pouted. He knew how much you hated getting sick. Not that anyone liked it, but you hated it, you often got so angry and cranky you couldn't even describe. You even avoided people when you were sick, as you didn't want to take down on them, but you could that to Pedro, you never avoided him and you were never rude to him.

He cupped his cheek and gave you such sweet lovely eyes.

"I'm so sorry to hear that, querida… you look a little pale, do you wanna lie down?" You chuckled how he offered you to lie down but didn't ask if you wanted to leave, because you knew there was no way he would let you leave.

You shook your head and entwined your fingers "it's alright, but I don't think I'll swim today" you smiled at him and looked around, looking for other cars, but there was only yours and Pedro's there. "Where's everybody?"

Pedro scratched the back of his neck and chuckled "well, you're the only one I invited…"

"Pedro, you do know the meaning of the word party, right? If it's just me, then why did you say there was a party?"

"Well, it is a party for my favorite girl…" he said adorably and you just couldn't resist him.

"Oh cariño" the nickname always brought a blush to his cheeks "if I weren't sick I would be kissing the shit outta you!" You laughed and walked inside with him.

Pedro's arm was tight wrapped around your waist as you eyed the pool and turned to him "you decorated the pool!!! You didn't have to do that!"

"Yes I did because it was supposed to be a pool party! I just didn't know you would be too sick to get inside" Pedro unconsciously stared at you with his puppy eyes and it made you feel guilty.

It was a very hot day, you were already sick, what could go wrong? It wouldn't get worse than that, would it?

So you sighed and smiled at him "fine, I guess I can't get sicker than this, so I'll get changed, will you wait for me to get inside?"

He nodded excitedly and grabbed himself a beer.

You ran to the bathroom, already familiar with his place and opened your bag, seeing the two options you brought: a bikini or a swimsuit. You went for the bikini, it usually made you shy to wear it among many people, but there was only you and Pedro there and well, since you'd seen each other naked many times, it wouldn't be a big deal.

You quickly changed and walked outside with your sunblock as Pedro had certainly forgotten his.

He was sat by the edge of the pool, feet dipped into water and wearing only his trunks.

You stood still and watched his body, he was looking so fine. He always did, but ever since he started the preparation for his new movie he got even more attractive.

You reminded yourself you were there to enjoy your friend's company and not lust after him.

You joined him and smiled "hey there handsome" you winked and coughed a little, feeling shy to be sick like that and got some sunblock on your hand, spreading it over his shoulder "you need to take care of your skin, handsome" you said sweetly and leaned in, which Pedro corresponded but frowned as you pecked his forehead instead.

He groaned softly and took some sunblock into his own hands and did the same on your back, mirroring your moves as you felt his big hands over your skin. And his hands were pretty big, almost as big as his…

You stopped yourself there and saw he was staring "maybe you should get this top off, you know, so you can get sunbathed properly" he suggested and you rolled your eyes.

Suddenly Pedro hugged you as tight as he could and threw himself into the water, dragging you with him as his weight caused you to fall.

He was so boyish you couldn't help yourself but laugh, seeing him swim towards you and wrap his arms again around your figure, pulling you closer.

Pedro was flirting with you as much as you flirted with him and though you shouldn't keep on doing that, you couldn't resist him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your back to the edge of the pool so he could sustain your weight with no trouble. He laughed softly "I missed you a lot, princesa" he whispered and kissed your neck, making you groan, taking your hands to his cute wet hair and giggling.

"Fuck Pedro, don't tease me" you asked and saw him looking at you, he was admiring you and leaned towards you, but you quickly moved your head away, avoiding his lips and received disappointed eyes.

Your heart clenched, you didn't like seeing him like that, you would never refuse him, but you didn't want to kiss him, you were sick and he would get sick.

Pedro, on the other hand, felt disappointed. You'd been distant from him, you wouldn't kiss him and in his mind you had probably met someone better than him, even if your legs were wrapped around his body, sometimes it was so hard for him to believe you liked him.

His gripped around your body loosen and he sighed, letting go of you and looking down "sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable" he said in a low tone but your hands quickly held his head in place.

"No honey, it's just that I am sick, if you kiss me you'll get sick too, and it's gonna be a problem for you when you go to work again" you tried to reason him and saw how his eyes softened.

His hand cupped your cheek and he swam closer again, one arm around your waist and ready to kiss you…

When you started coughing and couldn't stop.

You quickly turned away, your body shook as you were positive you had a fever now. You thought you couldn't get worse than you already were, but guess what, you were wrong.

"Shit, baby girl, come here" Pedro said, as he had managed to get off the pool and held a towel, helping you climb up the steps and wrapped it around your body.

"You take a warm shower and you'll lie in bed, got it princesa?" You nodded, shivering and walked back to his room.

You didn't take long in the shower, though the warm water felt really good as it poured down your body.

You managed to put your clothes back on after drying yourself and smiled as Pedro waited for you.

He made sure to get you comfortable in your bed and joined you. His arms were wrapped around your body and no matter if you told him many times he should stay away so you'd get him sick, he still refused it.

He held you close and rubbed your back up and down, making sure you were covered and warm.

"I know you don't wanna kiss me, but I was wondering if we could maybe go on a date, like a proper one, what do you say?" He asked with a small blush spread across his cheeks and you couldn't believe how sweet Pedro was, and for a second, you wanted to be selfish and kiss him as deep as you could, even if it meant he'd get sick later.

So you did it.

If he got sick, you'd take care of him, like he was taking care of you.

_____

A/N: idk I am just sick and I want Pedro to take care of me 😭

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #javier peña #javier pena #joel miller

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l-in-the-light · 29 days

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Trafalgar Law and closeness part 5: What is he actually so afraid of and his reasons

This will be a slightly different post from the others, much more speculation, but I will include all hints and foreshadowing I gathered (which means this is a long post yet again). I might be wrong ofc, but I'm like 80-90% sure I read the signs right. Just in case my theory will turn out correct, I reccommend that you think twice before reading any further, especially if you would prefer for Oda's manga to reveal it properly and not get spoilered about the twist thanks to some tumblr post, which is totally understandable. Those who are fearless like a true D and still want to read this theory, a fair warning: this will be sad af. More so than previous posts.

Let's start with a short summary of our previous observations: Law always acts cold, he will draw clear borders and keep people at a distance, because he can't deal with losing people again. That's his major fear. His secondary fear is his fear of touch, the result of his trauma. With both of these we saw him making really decent progress on, thanks to Luffy especially.

I traced Law's progress all the way from Sabaody up to Wano. We saw him completely refusing any bonds in Sabaody, but then he takes the first step towards Luffy. Instead of trying to get closer he proposes for them to be in alliance, hiding behind the impersonal relation (Luffy's not getting any of that btw. And in case you think Luffy did it on accident it's not entirely true: he knows the actual difference between friendship and alliance, he did a normal alliance with Bege in Whole Cake Island no problem, proving to us he's not that stupid). Then we see Law slowly opening up, holding back less of his natural reactions (like getting openly angry), all while fighting his trauma related to touch and helplessness. Let's dive into his psyche.

Law is a doctor, that identity is very important for him not just because of his parents.

When he's a doctor and operates on people, he knows he has to touch them to save their lives. That's probably also the reason why he calls all his attacks and devil fruit abilities per "operations". This way he can create an artificial boundary in his mind, when he's in his "doctor mode" the touch is impersonal and professional so he is able to actually operate on people. And seems this depersonalization/desensitization technique works! The only time we see him comfortable being in contact with people is when he cuts them down into pieces like for an operation. And of course he had to be alright with touch when he operated on Luffy and Jimbei as well.

Here we have to note one more thing about his devil fruit's use. In Sabaody and Punk Hazard he cuts people into pieces and rearranges them, creating "monstrous creatures". This seems to reflect what he thinks of those people, people who usually treat him like a monster because of his devil fruit abilities (that must be a pretty traumatic experience, because doctors also called him monster before just because he was sick). So he pays them back for it, rearranges their bodies, because for him they were the monsters. This way he takes back his own liberty, he shows them that if he's the monster then they are as well. That being said, he does take advantage of his "Surgeon of Death" title, because inciting fear in enemies is helpful when you're a pirate. But after meeting Strawhats who so easily disregard the bad rep Law has and spending enough time with them together, Law stops creating monsters with misaligned human limbs. Last time we saw them was in Punk Hazard. He doesn't need that anymore, because he feels accepted for who he is, regardless of what some random marines talk about him.

His devil fruit is interesting because it creates a space in which he can easily switch items and people's positions without having to touch them. And he can activate most attacks by simply moving his finger a little or making a simple gesture, so that even in case his trauma kicks in and he freezes, then as long as he can move at least one finger, he can shamble himself away to safety. Seems like devil fruit powers rely heavily on the mind of the user, their traumas and wishes deeply influence how the power actually works. I wonder how would it work if Law didn't have his fear of touching.

Summing it up, in Wano Law didn't get touch-triggered even once, so seems things were working out well for him in this regard. He's managing it better, but I doubt that trauma is going anywhere and he will still need time to get more comfortable around people (he might never be truly done with it). But that's okay, that didn't stop him from creating a new friendship. So what's still holding him back? Is it just a regular progress-regress cycle of healing for him?

Is he just not ready yet? After all some decisions take time for him. We see it when he receives his devil fruit. We see it in Dressrosa when it takes him many chapters to admit his own desire to take down Doflamingo by himself. It takes him time to accept things he isn't mentally ready for. We saw that indeed everytime he needs to take an extra moment or two to brace himself to touch someone as well. So is that just it? He needs more time? I don't think so, actually.

Remember this beautiful moment? In my native language this translation of Ace's line is more poetic: I will accept the opened arms reaching towards me as well as the death by the blade.

What was it about accepting opened arms reaching for you? This is Trafalgar Law's first hug on screen. You can't make this shit up. This Ace-Law parallel is there in the story on purpose. And it breaks me every single time.

So I guess Law got over that obstacle as well. He's ready to move on and start new things. And then he creates a beautiful friendship with Kinemon only to retreat to step one at the end of Wano, not even wanting to admit they became friends, even though everyone knows they did (the same with Strawhats). We saw this beautiful progress, his regress for a moment in Dressrosa, him opening up and closing back again. But he improved a lot since Sabaody, he's not the same person anymore. Law in Zou won't retreat anymore before even making a first step.

I think what's holding him back now is his biggest fear. And he has a pretty good freaking reason for it.

Hint number 1: Ope-ope no mi might not be enough.

Hint number 2: lead bullets greatly affected his body.

Hint number 3: "You met Corazon and he managed to prolong your life just a little longer".

Hint number 4: "I don't have much longer to live!", why is Doflamingo reminded of that line in particular now if it's just a thing from the past?

Hint number 5: death is constantly on Law's mind.

I think we need to connect all those dots together. Yes, I know, this theory isn't new. But it makes more and more sense. Ope-ope no mi didn't heal Law from amber lead completely. He only managed to prolong his own life thanks to it. That's why his execution should be done with lead bullets, it's not because it's symbolic, it's because that's literally what will kill Law in the end. Doffy was going to make the process just a tad bit faster is all. Law isn't afraid of death, but he is afraid to die without achieving anything or "dying for nothing", like he says in his flashback. He managed to survive till age 26, but his time is running out again.

Law's supposed "awakening" means he can use rooms remotely, without the need to be inside them. Interesting thing about those attacks is that they all use anaesthesia. But shouldn't you want your enemies to feel the pain when you attack? Let's look more closely to what Law says here. "This influences your body in other ways". Interesting. Perhaps because that's the ability he uses on himself when treating his amber lead syndrome? That would explain the need for anaesthesia, otherwise the sickness would limit his mobility.

In other words: Law can remove/hide the symptoms, but he can't cure the source of the amber lead poisoning apparently. It shouldn't be so strange, he was clearly born with it, it was passed down from his parents, which means it's in his DNA. Using ope-ope no mi inside his own body is pretty clever and let me quote Doffy on that: "it's all about how you use your abilities". Doflamingo did the same with his strings to restore his organs, I think he got inspired by Law. And yes, all the hints come mostly from Doflamingo, so he knows Law is dying.

Let's look at events of Dressrosa again to see if my idea fits. In Dressrosa we learn for the first time that Law's ope-ope no mi requires a lot of stamina. Perhaps because he needs to constantly apply it to monitor his own body and that's why he can't spare as much for fighting enemies as he would want to. Then he gets shot with lead bullets and nearly loses his life as the result. Weird that few bullets could do it to him while he could take much more beating in general. Unless it's because his body is still weak to the lead and it makes the poisoning spread faster, which would make perfect sense. Then Law is put in seastone cuffs and carried by Luffy through half of Dressrosa all the way to the palace. There is no moment in which Law, no matter how tired he is by being manhandled, claims he could just run on his own. He doesn't even sit on the horse or the bull, is just lying down. There is no proper explanation as to why he was lying there lifeless like that, nothing was preventing him from just sitting down instead. Later he claims it was because he was saving up his energy.

But now let's look at this situation logically. He was lying down and compliant to insane degree, because he felt *sick*. Which should remind us of how he was sick before Corazon got him ope-ope no mi. At times he couldn't even move anymore. Putting Law in seastone cuffs means his ope ope no mi is not monitoring his body anymore so it saps out all of his strength. Remember this, this is how bad Law's health is already in Dressrosa.

Even with Doflamingo directly threatening them he can't lift himself up properly. This is emergency, this is not the time to be lying around, and yet he can't do anything and this might a sign of how bad his condition actually is. He's shivering here because he feels helpless and defenseless. His trauma isn't exactly helping either.

At the end of Dressrosa he is weezing, suffocating, but still uses room and shambles to bring Luffy to safety. We can see him there in the background afterwards, looks to me like his heart almost giving up on him. Few moments later he's lying down, most likely passed out. This all is very hard to notice. That room he used to bring Luffy to the ground was also huge, perhaps as huge as the one he used in the palace before to fool Doffy. And he says it cut down on his lifespan. Well, good to know he cut down his lifespan not once, but twice already, and just in Dressrosa alone. Oda didn't nerf Law in Dressrosa, that's not the reason of why he seems weaker than before.

If Law is dying and overdid himself in Dressrosa on top of that, then no wonder he would say this. He might have left his crew in Zou knowing very well that it might be the last time he sees them. Now it makes much more sense. But Dressrosa did tip the scales into making him believe he might literally not make it out and no strategy could help him to survive against the illness.

Now let's jump to Wano. Remember this puzzling moment? He didn't fight anyone, only did some warps, and yet he is already worrying about his stamina? Yes, I take it as a sign that his condition worsened siginificantly. It was ofc also used for the plot to move forward in direction Oda wanted it to as well, but he wouldn't do it *just* for that reason.

Now let's jump to fight against Big Mom. Law doesn't look alright here.

And he can't even get up after the fight for a while, he's panting all the time. Kid, who was also exhausted after the fight, is already back on his legs and moving around. Law meanwhile still can't. Not even when water is rushing their way and he needs to move.

That's some enourmous room he created there. It looks like 10 times size (if not more) of Onigashima. It looks bigger than the whole Flower Capital! So, how much lifespan did he cut down this time?

Now we're finally getting to Winner Island. Blackbeard used his yomi yomi no mi attack that renders the devil user who's hit with it unable to use his powers. We saw that happen with Ace, remember? (yes, this is yet another parallel to Ace. Both of them lost to Blackbeard). And this is how Law looks now without his devil fruit to support him. You have two shots from Winner, one from Dressrosa after he gets shot with lead bullets (lower left) for comparison, anime, and, finally, comparison to sick Law from the flashback. The only difference here are the missing white patches on his skin. Symptomps look exactly the same: heavy breathing, unable to move, shivering, and his forehead is shaded in same way which implies high fever. This is where we are right now: Law's now in as bad of a state (or very close to it) as the end of the flashback. I guess white patches take some time to appear, it's not instant after his devil fruit is unable to be used to repress it anymore.

We didn't yet reach this state, but it's approaching very, very fast.

Very subtle anime hints. The whole sequence with the poneglyph in Onigashima gave us a flashback to Corazon and shows him dying while covered by white snow. Whole flashback has slightly white hinge to it and Law enters the scene from the completely white background.

Just reverse the colors from that oddly coloured bit from fight against Big Mom. Oooff.

Absolutely despicable foreshadowing from One Piece Red. Hearts appear in the credits together with the ONLY line in the song that talks about death. I saw anime doing obscure hints like that countless times before, be it in openings or endings. Apparently some anime producers are aware of what's coming. The first time I noticed this scene with Law hiding his eyes and the lyrics I grew very anxious. I spent most of my life watching animes, I know what game they're playing here. Back then, I just didn't yet know what it foreshadows exactly.

Law accepted his fate and just like the lyrics suggest: "even if I disappear, my song will still ring out". Meaning even after he's gone, people dear to him will carry on and that soothes him. He smiles here, he likes this freaking song exactly because of this line. Those are his real thoughts, that's how he feels inside when he isn't pretending not to care.

This is also why he says things like this. He truly thinks it doesn't matter what happens to him, not just because he's suicidal or he wants to sound cool. No, he says it because he's going to die anyway, so indeed, it does not matter to him.

It's reversed from what we thought this was all about. It's not that he wants to kill Doflamingo so much he doesn't care for his life or chooses to die. It's gonna happen anyway. In fact, if he could, he would prefer not to die:

He wants to live.

There are many asian series dealing with terminal illnesses and protagonists coming to terms with it or embracing some difficult to make choices, like in Searching for Full Moon or Your Lie in April. But please let me tell you a short summary of Shiroi Kage/White Shadow, it's a Japanese live action series from 2001 (god, they don't make such good jdramas anymore, spoilers ahead) about a surgeon who is dying, but decides to keep doing his job till the day he actually dies. He shows a lot of compassion to his patients, because he can easily relate to their situations, especially those about to die soon. His compassionate heart saves a lot of people and helps them accept their own approaching death, even though the doctor is still struggling against it himself. He acts rough and cold towards anyone else than patients, people try to form meaningful connections with him, but he refuses any attempts. Finally he accepts someone in his life that he thinks will carry on happily even without him, because they embrace everything the life offers, no matter if it's love, death or rejection. That person becomes their most important person and shows them that it's okay to fear death. In the end the surgeon chooses how to die himself, without waiting for the illness to take him. White Shadow as a title is symbolic because white in Japanese culture is the color assocciated with death. Does that remind us of a certain disease that shows as white patches on the skin?

The actual reason why Law keeps everyone at distance is probably the same that the main protagonist in Shiroi Kage had. It's for the sake of others, not his own. He doesn't want them to get attached, to feel devastated when he dies, and if they never grow close then they might feel a bit sad but easily move on. This is how he wants to die: so people won't miss him and won't despair the same way he despaired when his parents, sister and Cora-san died. That's his kind heart right there. Kinda the same way Your Lie in April uses the concept. Luffy is still grieving Ace, he doesn't need another heartbreak of someone important like a friend dying, so Law would rather lie that this was never friendship just so Luffy can carry on.

Law doesn't have much time left. And he wants to take down as many bad guys as possible, he might have even set some plans in motion that will succeed even after he dies, Drake and/or other people will carry them out to the end even after Law will be gone.

Remember the cold goodbye in Wano? He stayed at the port after battle, he avoided Luffy and Strawhats (besides Franky) and even tried to make them leave on different day than him. He acted extra cold thinking it will prevent attachments, especially if he thinks he's seeing them for the very last time, with his health in such a bad shape.

This scene should remind you of Punk Hazard, it's a callback to it. Law already then decided that this will be how he will say his goodbye.

Q.E.D., the reason behind his uneccessary coldness is solved, every loose ties got explained, there are no inconscistencies left. That's why I think I read all the signs right, even though it's just a theory based on hints and speculation. But it all fits.

Law thinks Luffy isn't attached to him much yet and that he will move on happily without lingering too much on his death. Oh boy, he's so wrong about that. That's because he didn't see Luffy's reaction in Dressrosa after he passed out.

Luffy cares for him deeply. We saw how unusually happy he was when they reunited on Punk Hazard by chance. How much he bragged about Law being a good guy. How insightful and considerate he tried to be towards him! Sure, he pushed Law's boundaries a bit, because he thought otherwise Law would never be ready to start new friendships (and was he wrong? probably not). Luffy said goodbye to him in Wano with a smile, probably thinking Law just really wants to go for his own adventure, or maybe he needs some time to get ready to admit stuff. And Luffy accepts it and waits for him.

Once Law will realize his mistake he will regret ever starting that alliance in the first place. Because he fucked up, he will leave someone behind very devastated if he dies.

If this post made any of you sad, then I'm sorry. Please remember it's mostly just a theory. Tomorrow I will make a post that will instead make you shed happy tears instead, hopefully.

We all know Luffy or Chopper will somehow cause the miracle and Law will get cured, right? Even if Law's flower is the Queen of The Night that dies before dawn (that's another foreshadowing at work here btw). We need to believe and prepare a whole truck of tissues. Fate always found a way to spare him, we need to believe in it again.

#one piece #trafalgar law #luffy #lawlu #trauma #illness #it's okay if you don't like this post #I had to get it out of my chest #I will hate it if my theory/prediction turns out to be true #Oda why #but this really makes too much sense #one piece theory #actually this explains why he stayed for months at Punk Hazard #he was probably searching for a cure or something similar

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dashofmonsters · 3 months

Text

Dreamers & Delusions- Pt. 8

merman x female reader

After you finally agreed to live with Tao he told you to take a few days to heal up. You were worried that you'd get fired from your job being out so long but apparently on his little jog out to get you clothes he also stopped by the diner.

He informed Mikey that you won't be back in for a few days due to your injuries. He also mentioned that he may or may not have threatened him after he said some horrible things about you under breath. Apparently Jes was there to stop him from beating Mikey black and blue.

You spent the first day just lounging about in the nest room, reading your romance novels you've stashed away at Tao's. He had to go back to the beach to asses the damage and help with clean up. When he came home he looked drained but quickly perked up when he saw that you made dinner

The second day Jes came to visit and the two of you talked up a storm.

"Girl you are so lucky to be alive right now! You could have fucking died!" She shakes you before giving you a rib crushing hug.

"I know, I know. I just couldn't be there anymore, I needed to get away," You cry against her shoulder and sigh.

You give Jes the run down of that fateful night and leave nothing out. She listens, shaking her head here and there and holding back tears when you talk about how terrified you were.

"And I've been here since. I don't know if he's told you, but I'm moving in with him," you tell her as you wipe your eyes with your sleeve.

"I think that's for the best, but what about... well, you haven't been to keen on getting any closer to him because of the... you know, mates subject," She sighs and scrubs her face.

"I'm trying not to think about it. I'll still keep him at a healthy distance, even though he seems to want the opposite. Not sure if he's taking this fake dating seriously or if he's just being over protective of me because he sees me as his shoal mate," you shrug.

Jes' brows hike up her forehead and she grins, "Shoal mate?"

"Like werewolves have pack members Jes, nothing special," you glare.

"Sure sure, and I'm guessing all those clothes and lacy things aren't special either?" Her grin widens.

"Jes, no. He's just being nice, he even said it was because I didn't have anything to wear and all," you roll your eyes and groan. "Besides he would probably buy even more expensive clothes for his mate, treat her even better and all. I'm just practice, that's all I'm ever good for."

Without warning a hand clamps down on your face and shakes you, "You listen and you listen good, I am sick and tired of hearing your woe was me bullshit! You are kind, smart, dependable, funny as fuck, and loving as hell and if no one can see that in you, they don't fucking deserve you. Tao included ok?"

You nod your head and whimper, "But when he finds her won't h-"

"And what if you are her? What then?" She asks you.

"How can it be me though? There's been no sign, no marks, no moment where we look deep into each others eyes and just 'know'. There's nothing Jes, just two friends who are fake dating," you start blubbering, tears rolling down your cheeks again.

You've bottled up these emotions for days now, unable to vent them since you're in the same living space with the merman who's causing them. You needed this, needed to talk to Jes and just let it all out.

"A part of me wishes he wasn't so goddamn nice to me ya know. Like it'd be so much easier to fall out of love with him. And now look at me, I'm about to move in with him because it's safer here than with my own fucking family. I can't win Jes, I can't," you sob into your hands and she pulls you in for a hug.

"You'll be alright sugar, maybe not now but eventually. I'm not going to sugar coat shit and say things will be fine because I'm no fortune teller girly. This is going to be a fucking journey, but it's all about how you navigate until you reach the end. Nobody needs to get hurt ok?" Jes pulls back and wipes a tear from your cheek. "But if he does hurt you, I will be more than happy to put my foot up where the sun don't shine."

You manage a teary chuckle and nod, "Thanks for being real Jes. I guess I needed to hear that and not some fake positivity bull shit."

"I don't do that wishy washy fake support girly, I tell it like it is," she grins and winks.

After you calm down Jes segues the conversation from you and Tao to her and her wild fae fiancé. You start cackling when she tells you about the gifts they've already received from friends and family. Apparently it's common practice to gift some fun things for the bedroom before the wedding so they can enjoy them afterward. Jes admits that she's lost count of how many of these gifts she has received.

"But here's the real kicker, because he's a wild fae our wedding has to be officiated by a wild fae who has worked law between both worlds for it to be legal in both," Jes sneers and tosses her hand back and forth.

"Won't that kind of be near impossible? Aren't wild fae against going into law? I thought they'd be more free spirited?" You try to imagine someone with wild hair and wild magic working in a court of law and quickly shake your head.

"That's what I thought, but there's one. Just one, fresh out of college too. He has a degree in law in both worlds. His name is Varen, very straight laced and way too normal for anyone to look at him and think wild fae. But Artek told me that this kid's one hundred percent a wild fae, could tell by the ebb and flow of his magic," She explains and goes into greater detail about this weird wild fae.

That conversation lead to another and another, talking and bitching turned to joking over lunch and eventually, like all good things, ended after cake. Jes left and you felt lighter though the dread stayed pooled in the pits of your stomach. It was manageable now, but still there.

You distract yourself by starting on dinner. You take it easy as to not overdo it and reopen any wounds again. You've splashed some healing potion on yourself this morning but should probably cleanse yourself with another dose soon.

Little by little you get everything together and toss it into the oven. Easy, simple bake for a dinner. While it does its own thing you whisk away to the bathroom and quickly strip as you run the bathwater. You've just finished pouring the potion into the bath when the door flies open haphazardly and Tao freezes.

You can't help but to laugh especially when he attempts to close the door that keeps slipping from his grasp.

"Dude you've seen me naked probably a dozen times now, nothing you haven't seen," you plop into the bath, still laughing.

You hear the door shut and Tao sighing and to your surprise you see him sitting right at the closed door. He looks a bit roughed up and tired as hell.

"Tough day at work," you ask as you settle in for a soak.

Tao groans, "Tough would be an understatement. Two vacant houses tumbled and shattered onto the beach during the storm. We started out with plenty of volunteers but once they realized how much work goes into the clean up, well we lost a good sixty percent."

"Sixty percent?!" you turn and nearly slip against the tub.

"And if that wasn't bad enough, a certain someone came to the beach looking for you," he adds with disgust that he doesn't even attempt to hide.

"You've gotta be shitting me... She came to the fucking beach after all that had happened?" you ask.

"She was cordial at first since there was a lot of people but when I wasn't giving her the answers she wanted she started saying horrific things about you in relation to, well, to us," he says.

You know how unhinged your grandmother can be with insults and name calling but to slander you or Tao, especially Tao, in public, that was crossing a whole new fucking line.

"What did she say?" you grit your teeth and exhale, trying to remain calm.

Tao doesn't say anything, but you hear him clear his throat and shift. You turn in the tub, keeping low enough that only your shoulders and up are visible, "Tao, what did she say?"

He looks at you and looks down, "She said a great deal of things that I am very certain would cause you to become quite enraged."

"I need something a little more specific buddy. How bad was it?" you keep pushing, knowing that Tao isn't fully comfortable with this but you need to know.

"I'm not sure if I-"

"If I promise to remain calm will you fucking tell me at least one goddamn thing she said?" you nearly yell, starting to get frustrated.

Tao's eyes widen but he nods his head, "She said...well she compared you to your mother saying that you're some slut for dating me and that I'm some freak with a human woman fetish that's lowering whatever qualities about you that would be desirable to human males."

You promised to remain calm, and you're no liar. Instead you start getting out of the tub. You quickly wrap a towel around yourself before Tao can say anything but to your surprise he seems rather speechless. His eyes are back onto the floor and there's this limpness to him. You squat down next to him and he doesn't flinch.

"There's more to this isn't there?" you ask.

"I couldn't say anything... I couldn't defend you or she'd know where you were. I wanted to tear her apart so bad, not physically of course, but I wanted her to know how wrong she was," Tao admits.

You lean up against him and he stiffens a bit before relaxing. He smells of the beach and whatever trash was on beach and it makes you crinkle your nose.

"I'm going to go get dressed and finish up dinner while you take a much needed shower. Let's try to get me moved in asap. I don't think I can tolerate my grandmother any longer," you shimmy up against the door to stand up as Tao shoves up and wobbles.

He seems a little off but mostly tired.

"Try to get some rest tonight ok? We have plenty of time to talk till we both pass out," you smile at him before leaving to go get dressed.

You throw on some comfy pajama bottoms that Jes bought for you and a large shirt that Tao had got you with all the other clothes. You slip into some comfy slides and head to the kitchen to check on dinner. It's a simple chicken bake that your older brother used to make and it made you feel like a normal kid when you ate it.

You wanted to share with Tao a taste of your world since the both of you always cooked his style. It's not that he can't eat or doesn't like to eat normal human food, it's just that you've been busy practicing his style for a while now.

It's just chicken breasts baked over carrots and potatoes that you've oiled and seasoned properly, but this was the one thing that kept you going on the hard days. You made it for your younger siblings when your brother got older and left, but it was never quite as good as his.

You start prepping some broccoli to go with it, something you added so everyone could get their vegies. You can't help but to smile when you think of your little sister grimacing when she took her first bite of broccoli. You had to convince her that they were tiny trees and she'd become a giant if she ate them. Before you left home, she admitted that it didn't work but she knew you were trying so she kept eating them even if she still didn't like them. Hearing that almost made you break down in tears.

You oil up the pan and turn to grab the broccoli when you run right into Tao.

"You have got to start warning me when you enter a room dude, this is going to keep happening if you don't," you laugh.

Tao chuckles and holds your arm, "I'll try to remember that for next time. How are your wounds?"

"Itchy," you shrug, "But manageable. How about you? How are you feeling?"

"I'm...," He pauses and sighs. "Tired, tired and drained. All I want to do is bury myself in a pile of blankets and pillows and pretend that the rest of the world doesn't exist for a while."

You want to laugh because you've been there, and you feel like this isn't the first time Tao has felt like this but it's the first time he's expressed it.

"Well how about we do just that after dinner ok? I could do with wrapping myself up in that fluffy green blanket like a lettuce wrap," you giggle.

Tao gives you a soft smile and nods, "Sounds like a plan."

His hand roves up from your forearm and to your shoulder, your heart pounding a mile a minute until his nose crinkles and he nearly shoves you away as he picks up the smoking oiled pan off the stove top.

You try to apologize but Tao stops you saying it's his fault he distracted you. He offers to help with the last bit of dinner but you stubbornly decline and banish him to the barstools.

The chicken bake finishes just as you toss the broccoli into the newly oiled pan and you hush up Tao when he offers to help again.

"Can't make you a thank you dinner if you keep trying to help now can I?" you poke at him.

"Wait, what do you mean?" he asks, almost shocked.

"I thought I'd make you something from my world as a thank you... Like we're always cooking stuff from the little book you made me or stuff based on that so I thought I'd try something different...," you feel your heart sinking a bit at how silly you sound.

You should have asked instead of jumping into this, should have double checked and now you're probably just cooking for yourself because he probably won't want t-

"I can't wait to try it then," he says.

You look up, realizing that you had been looking down at the broccoli and were probably about to salt it with your tears.

"It's nothing fancy, just a chicken bake my older brother used to make for me when I was a kid," you smile.

He smiles back and yawns looking more tired than usual, "Like I said, I can't wait to try it."

You feel your cheeks heat and your heart flutter but it doesn't last long as you mentally dunk yourself into cold water.

Just a friend, just a friend...

Shaking yourself out of your girly lovey dove self you focus on finishing dinner. As simple as it is you want to make it especially presentable. You give Tao two chicken breasts and a good helping of carrots, potatoes and broccoli. You wanted to serve dinner rolls with it but you had polished them off a couple nights ago.

Tao is unable to stay seated much longer and takes the plates to the one place you'd thought they'd be forbidden from entering, the nest room. Though not without trays which he asks you to bring. You grab them along with some bottles of water and the dessert Jes had brought earlier from the diner.

Tao has you set the trays and things down at the doorway so you can hold the plates. You watch with bated breath as his claw slowly slices through the air, dragging golden glowing ruins with it. The room shifts and the nest room transforms into something akin to a magical pillow fort. The plates you're holding float out of your hands and the trays fly up to support them.

You look down for the dessert and waters but they had already transported to Tao's hands. He smiles again and gestures for you to follow him into the pillow fort.

He plops down onto a beanbag that you had no idea was even in the room and the tray lands gracefully on his lap. You follow suit and snuggle up into a pile of pillows with your tray landing next to you.

"I gotta say Tao, had I known you as a kid I would have invited you over to build pillow forts and hang out because this is fucking nice," you joke.

Tao doesn't say anything because all of his focus and attention went straight into the dinner you had made. Though he's tired, his eyes turn solid black as he rips into the chicken like a beast. It's no feeding frenzy like he did at your grandmother's house, no he still seems conscience.

You take his silence and focus on the meal as a complement and tuck into your on plate. As you eat you realize that it's still not quite like your brother's.

Guess I'll have to hunt him down and shake that recipe out of him one of these days.

You're halfway down eating when you feel Tao snuggling up to you. You glance over at him, his eyes still all black.

"If you're still fully aware in there let me finish eating dude," you tell him.

Tao grunts which you suppose is a good sign as he slinks down and lays next to you. You stab at your food and eat as slowly as possible hoping that Tao will just pass out while waiting for you.

You're not against platonic cuddling or whatever sharky merfolk due to stay warm, but you need some distance. You need to be a little colder until you've sorted your feelings out.

He's been so good to you, kind and caring that it hurts more and more as the days pass and you haven't even officially moved in yet. You keep things as professional as you can but he keeps doing things like buying you snacks and little gifts like candles and bubble bath stuff.

It drives you absolutely crazy because you know this isn't going to last, that even though you'll still be shoal mates and all, you won't be anything more than just that.

You finish eating and check to see if Tao had passed out. Once you're certain he's asleep you clean up the pillow fort and take everything to the kitchen as quietly as possible. You shake your head and almost cry as you laugh about hanging out with Tao in a pillow fort.

If you weren't in love with him you'd probably have a blast. You'd probably try to wake his ass up and try to teach him some games the both of you could play.

But you're in love with him and he's tired. You're tired too.

You had allowed yourself to laze about while physically healing but mentally and emotionally you still feel like your wounds are wide open and bleeding all over the place.

Tip toeing back to the nest room, you quickly swipe the fluffy green blanket and a couple pillows to take back to the living room. You toss yourself onto the leather loveseat and curl into a ball before passing out.

~~~~~~

Tao:

My eyes feel crusted and practically glued together when I wake up. I'm cold even though I'm wrapped up in a heavy blanket. I reach out to get a feel of my surroundings when my memories of last night start flooding in. I snap up and and furiously wipe my eyes till I can open them.

The nest room is as I remembered, magicked into a cave of pillows and blankets but absent of a certain someone. I quickly untangle myself from the blankets and nearly trip as I make my way out of the room.

I search the nearby rooms to check for her before heading to the kitchen. My heart sinks when I peer into the living room and find her curled up on the couch. I quietly pad my way over to her and I fall to my knees when I see notice the tears stained on her face and the puffiness of her eyes.

Had she spent the entire night out here alone crying her eyes out?

I grab a fistful of my hair as I try to wrack my brain for anything I might have done to upset her. I start to worry if I offended her with the way that I ate last night, I did try my best to suppress my instincts. I know that going into a feeding frenzy can disgust humans but she's been fine with it before.

My heart starts racing and I can hardly breathe as I continue to spiral into a state of panic. I'm obviously not quiet about it because she stirs then shoots straight up. I hear her worrying over me, her warm hands cupping my cheek so gently. Without think I hold her hand in place as if I'm afraid this will be the last time she touches me.

Her thumb soothes short lines near my eye and I feel myself slowly calming down to the point that I almost doze off again. She keeps talking but it's muffled. She tries to pull her hand away then and I snap out of whatever trance I was in.

"Tao, you need to go in the tank dammit! You're dry as a bone!" she yells at me.

It takes a moment for my mind and body to sync up and that's when I realize the severe discomfort my skin is in. Not just my skin but my mouth feels sticky and my gills are on fire. I stumble as I stand, no longer operating on anxious energy. It's so difficult to move, to breathe in this state.

I haven't neglected myself like this in ages and now I'm doing it in front of her. For a moment I think she might scold me, rage at how stupid I was for not taking better care of myself until I feel her small hand at the mid of my back.

Slowly she helps me to the hatch, my breathing becoming more and more labored with each step. My gills feel stuck and itchy to the point of sheer madness. I try my best not to scratch at them in fear of them becoming raw.

She sits me down on one of the benches and helps me out of my shirt. For a moment I think that it's kind of her to help me out like this until I remember that I'm wearing pants too.

In a sudden bout of panic I shoot up and kick the hatch open. I hear her talking but not a single word is registering. I quickly start stripping my pants off and before she can see anything I try to dive into my tank but trip over my own feet. I nearly miss the edge when I hit the water and thank the goddesses I made it before I feel unconscious.

There's a weight on my shoulder, a stinging pain too. I suppose I did hit myself but not as bad. I peel open my eyes in horror when I see my shoal mate's limp body slowly floating away from me with blood trailing from her head.

~~~~~~

You could see Tao struggling and you tried to stop him before he hurt himself, instead you ended up bonking your fucking head on the edge of the hatch. It stings like a bitch from the saltwater so you must have sliced it on impact.

But you quickly shove that though from your mind because you're underwater and you're breathing somehow. Memories flood back and you recall holding onto to his shoulder for dear life and Tao pulling you in and how his mouth opened yours up so he could breathe for you. He said something and you nodded before passing out again. He most likely cast a spell to allow you to breathe under water then.

You slowly open your eyes but there's not much to behold. The tank is dark save for the light near the surface. You feel around yourself and notice something smooth nearby. You give it a good poke a guess by the texture and smooshiness of it that it's Tao's tail. Suddenly you're being pulled against him, his nose nuzzling against your ear and his claws rest gently against your bare skin.

"You scared me half to death," he groans, his voice hoarse.

"Ditto dude, you were having a full blown panic attack. What happened?" you ask as bubbles exit your mouth. You have a good idea based on how he's responded to anything you do in the past but it doesn't hurt to check.

Tao's claws twitch and he hums, "I was worried that I had offended you somehow. When I awoke, you were not in the nest."

"You didn't do anything wrong Tao, I just... I needed some space. That and uhh...," You pause, knowing it's now or never and decide to rip it off like a band aid. "You don't have to keep up the fake dating act when we're alone. I mean whenever you find your mate or something I think you'll do good."

You continue to praise him and how he'll make someone super happy one of these days while doing your damndest to mask the ache in your heart. You slip up though and your voice cracks but you laugh it off or at least try to.

The slip doesn't go unnoticed and Tao pulls you into his arms again, crushing you against his body. You're stiff yet somehow you're trembling as he cradles your head and gently kisses your cheek. He doesn't say anything really but you do hear him purr. It's a low thrumming sound and it's oddly soothing.

"We were supposed to relax and pretend as if the world did not exist in the nest room. I ruined that by allowing my instincts to take over again," He says remorsefully.

"No you didn't Tao, I just... I needed space and... you've been great, maybe too great. It just feels wrong somehow to keep up the fake dating act twenty four seven. It's been messing with my head so much so that, I don't know... I just think we should tone it down and just be friends when no one is looking," you bury your face against his chest and sigh.

Tao taps his claws against the back of your head as his purring somehow intensifies, "Then how has it been messing with your head? Did I do something to overstep any boundaries?"

It's a genuine question, you know it is but it irritates you because it's digging so close to the truth, "You haven't overstepped anything, if anyone did that would be me. You've been nothing but kind and respectful and all that and it's been making me think how great it would be if there was someone who could treat me like you do but they actually loved me."

That last part stings your soul because you don't want just anybody, you want Tao.

Without thinking you keep blubbering on, your emotions taking charge now, "And then I started thinking how nice it would be if I was your mate, not just shoal mate, but that'd never happen. So I just kept telling myself we're friends and that you'll eventually find your fated mate and I'll be tossed aside. So I've been trying my best to shut those feelings off, to put some distance between us but somehow someway we keep coming into contact with each other."

At this point your laughing, possibly crying but it's too hard to tell since you're still underwater. Tao holds you even tighter, pulling you up until your chin rests on his shoulder.

"I pray to the goddesses every night that I never meet my fated mate or that I will have the strength to reject her if we do meet," he admits.

"Why would you do that?" you ask with a broken voice.

"Because I want to choose my mate and fated mates among merfolk are rare anyways. I came to this world for a new life, I can't hold onto old traditions and wishful thinking," he answers, his claws once again tapping the back of your head.

"Did you decide this because you've already chose someone?" The question slips and Tao's fingers still against you.

His purring is so loud now and his heartbeat is thrumming against it. He doesn't say anything for a minute but then nods, "Yes, I suppose I have."

You go limp in his hold for a second before looking up at him. His golden eyes glow in the darkness and his hair moves in waves around his head like an inky crown. He looks more feral at this moment than he does when his instincts kick in. For a moment you're terrified of the question fighting its way out but when he touches your arm oh so gently is just flies out.

"Who is it? Who did you chose?"

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