#someone help me reassure me that chapter 1 writing good

[daincrediblegg]

Universe. Explain to me why writing chapter 1 of a long fic feels like pulling teeth but the western au that I’ve hardly outlined on paper is already a fucking breeze to write?

[peachysunrize]

[TANGERINE DREAMS]

summary: being stood up on his wedding day, Aemond’s life takes a turn for the worse. Heartbroken and humiliated, he finds unexpected help in Helaena’s childhood friend, who helps him move back into his family mansion. Summer cocktail parties and a long stay at the Targaryen residency, Aemond might let the girl who’s always been in his life make a home in his heart.

Tangerines, in general, symbolize prosperity, good luck and happiness. So if these delicious fruits appear in your dreams - whole or in the form of juice - it is usually very positive. A dream with tangerines expresses the desire and the possibility of progress and prosperity

word count: 5.2k+

warnings: angst & fluff! English isn’t my first language<3

a/n: loviessssss welcome to the first chap of my summer romance! I hope you love this as much as I do when I’m writing it! Reblogs & comments are most appreciated🥹🍊 and very special thank you to @namelesslosers for betaing this for me<33🩷

Dividers by @/firefly-graphics

Taglist: please fill this form with your username to be added to the taglist!

Updates: every Saturday!

-> Series Masterlist <-

-> other works <-

Chapter 1: runaway bride

He shouldn’t be stressed, should he? 

Everything is in the right place; groomsmen are standing behind him while fixing each other’s coats and reassuring him, bridesmaids are in front of him as they talk and giggle, the guests are whispering and the priest is tapping his fingers on his watch.

Alys is a few minutes late, but it’s just a few minutes, there’s nothing to worry about. Aemond knows she must be even more stressed than he is. It’s their big day after all and naturally, the bride is the more anxious one. Surely that’s true, right? But why are his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his coat uncontrollably, why is rocking on the ball of his feet? He can’t be that nervous.

He looks around, finding his mum biting her nails. She searches around the room, looking for someone, anyone, to come and tell her about her bride-to-be’s whereabouts. His eye finds Helaena, watching as she caresses the flower petals before meeting his gaze, smiling broadly at him. He smiles back, but it doesn’t reach his eyes to convince her he’s doing alright. He is alright, just a tad bit too stressed for everyone’s liking, especially Helaena who can sense his nerves buzzing with excitement and fear. 

The church Alicent chose for his wedding has been used by Targaryens for years and passed on for generations. The walls covered in royalty tapestries of mythical Valyrian gods have seen many weddings and unions, and now, they will see his wedding.

He sighs, wanting to run his fingers through his hair but remembering his hair is in a low bun and his Mum would kill him if he ruined his perfectly done hair. He sighs again, looking up at the ceiling, his brow furrowing in worry.

What is taking her so long? She should have been here ten minutes ago.

Aemond turns around and looks at Daeron, their eyes meeting for a brief second before his younger brother nods and walks to the corner of the hall before slipping out the door without any hesitation. 

“Don’t worry, brother, she’ll come around,” Aegon says, his breath stinking with the three glasses of champagne he’s had from the bar in the garden attached to the church grounds, where they will host the party.

“This isn’t another simple date she can be late to. This is our wedding, Aegon!” He exhales shakily, his voice barely above whispering.

He knows he is right, even Aegon knows he is right, but there is little they both can do. They need to wait for her to show up eventually. She will, won’t she? Of course she will, it was Alys who was too eager to marry, start a family, and take a step towards their shared dreams. She reassured him of his hesitation, and he agreed to do this with a heart full of love.

“Sir,” the priest calls him, “I’m needed for another ceremony in about an hour and the ride there will take a long—“

“She will come,” Aemond’s response is more of a reassurance to him than the priest, “you must have seen this more than us, Sir, the bride always shows up.”

“Yes, yes, my apologies,” the man nods his head, going back to do whatever he was doing before. 

With every second that passes and Alys doesn’t show up he grows more restless, beads of sweat forming on his hairline. Aemond is a closed-up person, not really used to showing his feelings and emotions outwardly, but now, he is tapping his foot on the ground while his eye swipes at the guests, finding his half-sister’s family behind his Mum — he averts his eye quickly. The last thing he needs is to get furious over his sister’s goblins.

“What is taking her so long?” He hears someone say from the guests, even their stupid gossip is not enough to distract them from how late the bride is. He is growing desperate at this point, the muscles in his shin are growing tired with how fast he is tapping his foot on the floor, his fingers can no longer fidget with his coat instead his nails are digging into his sweaty palm.

Please, please, Alys, just open this door… He thinks to himself before spotting Daeron sneaking inside the hall with you on your toe. He watches as the two of you make your way toward Helaena, whispering something in her ear before she and Daeron leap out of the hall in a second, catching everyone’s attention.

The hall grows noisier, and the hushed whispers turn into loud accusations and questions; “Where is the bride?”

“I have always known she was problematic!” 

“Eight years older? How scandalous!”

“How did Viserys Targaryen let his son marry her?”

“I have heard she has quite the reputation with men, always after their money—“

Now his hands are shaking, he hides them by locking them behind his back before he looks in front of him, trying to mask out the noise. Aemond catches your eye, watching as you give him a reassuring smile before taking slow steps towards him.

“Hey you.”

“Hey…” he replies as best as he can without his voice breaking, “you look beautiful.”

“So do you, little nerd!” You reach to fix his bowtie, trying to calm him down a bit, “not so little though, right? You’re getting married before me!”

“Yeah, I’m younger and I beat you to it,” he chuckles a little, silently thanking you for keeping a leash on his nerves.

It’s always been like this since the two of you remember. Growing up close to the Targaryens as Helaena’s kindergarten friend until now, you have grown to know each of the siblings like the back of your hand, especially Aemond who was a constant presence in your games with Helaena since he could walk — sometimes it feels like you are his best friend and not Helaena’s with how attentive you are to him. As much as he wishes for that to be true, he knows the bond you share with his sister is something so precious and special that no one can break it.

“Just so you wait, Aemond, you won’t be invited to my wedding when the time comes!” You tease him, trying to lighten his mood, reaching to fix a few strands of hair that have fallen out of his bun.

“That’s not fair—“

Everyone falls silent when the door is pushed open, revealing a heaving Daeron and a very anxious Helaena. You both turn around to look at the siblings, meeting them halfway with Aegon following you closely. 

“We…” Helaena starts, but she can’t talk. Something bad must have happened for her to be so speechless.

“What?” You ask gently, resting your hand on her shoulders in hopes of trying to get her to talk.

“We found Alys,” Daeron looks at Aemond with an unreadable expression, “but she…”

“Spit it out for fuck sake!” Aegon whispers through gritted teeth, his hand shoved in his pockets as he waits for Daeron to finish his sentence.

“She doesn’t want to get married,” Helaena blurts out, swallowing the lump in her throat as she looks at Aemond with sad sympathetic eyes.

“Hel, this is insane. Did she say it herself—“ you say, frowning slightly.

“Criston is holding her back from running away. There’s a car parked outside, I think—“

Aemond can’t listen to these words anymore, so he pushes past his siblings and you, jogging out of the church towards the attached garden, finding Cole and Alys tangled in a messy fight as she tries to escape from his grasp.

“Alys!” He yells her name, making the couple freeze, but in a second, she knees Cole in his stomach and runs past him, her long white dress drags across the grass as she bolts out of the gates too fast for Aemond to be able to catch up, and once he does, he watches the car leave.

The noises around him vanish, and all he can hear is the thumping of his pulse in his ears, and the sharp breaths he takes. The world around him seems to disappear, and his good eye follows the path the car is taking, his fingers are tingling, his chest rising and falling rapidly while he tries to regain his grip on himself.

He sighs, finally his senses coming back as he looks around him, finding you, his Mum, and his siblings running towards him. Aemond doesn’t wish to talk to anyone, he wants to stay invisible, for the world to swallow him whole and keep him away from the humiliation that is about to be unleashed on him.

“Darling—“

“Aemond—“

The group reaches him, Alicent cups his face in her warm hands as she looks at him with tears stinging her eyes. Aemond can see how devastated she is about him, how she desperately wants to say something and ease his pain but the words are lost in the air when she opens her mouth to utter them.

He reaches and holds her wrists gently, pressing her palms against his cheeks as they silently communicate their emotions — no words need to be said, they understand, Alicent understands his pain, and he knows that she would take it away if she could.

“We should tell the guests,” Aemond says before letting go of his Mum’s hands, striding past his siblings and you towards the salon attached to the church, finding many of the guests already there — his half-sister and her kids with a few other relatives.

He knows they are waiting to hear more of this mess just to taunt him and make his day worse. Everyone knows they are looking for one mistake from him and his family to ruin their reputation, and now, with Aemond Targaryen’s runaway bride, they must be ecstatic.

“What happened, nephew? We thought we were invited for a traditional wedding, but all we see is a lonely groom—“

The glare Aemond gives his uncle and nephews is enough for them to shut up. He tries to put up a strong front, head held high and hands folded behind his back, but if you squint you can see how his resolve is crumbling with each second that he spends in their presence.

He decides not to give in to their silly games and walks towards the bar before he snatches the pack of cigarettes on the stool, leaving the room without saying a word. His mind is foggy as he tries to walk past everyone, he is handling many things at the same time but the bitter and heavy feeling in his chest crushes his strength to process it.

The sound of chatter and gossip fades away as he walks through the back garden of the church; a few little benches and a fountain in the corner hidden from the eyes of the guests with a wisteria tree.

This area could have made a romantic core memory for Aemond and Alys if only things had gone differently…

With a deep sigh, he sits on the ground, his back against the fountain as he fiddles with his bow tie, undoing the first few buttons of his shirt, his coat falling on the ground next to him. He opens the pack of cigarettes, pulling one out before he reaches in his pants for a lighter — something he is sure you’d scold him for as you always do, teasing him lightheartedly about his obsession with lighters.

When he inhales the smoke, his mind gets clearer, and he can think a little better, but he is not sure if he would really like to do so. His ex-fiancé left him just a few minutes ago, and his mind fills with dreadful thoughts.

Was it him?

Was he too young for her? Too immature?

Did she change her mind because she loved someone else?

Was he too strict and selfish?

Was it really him who brought this on himself? On his family?

He blows out the smoke, resting his elbow on his knee as he reaches to untie his bun, his hair falling freely around his shoulders while the droplets of water land on the soft silver strands from the fountain.

It is the beginning of the summer, the spring chill of the weather is replaced with an increasing heat, the birds chipper and he can see the peachy hue of sunset in the sky from between the leaves of the tree.

He feels numb, a dull ache in his chest blooming as the reality hits him. Aemond takes another drag of his cigarette, throwing his head back, and letting his hair fall inside the water fountain. He sniffs, closing his eye to keep his tears from flowing down, the storm of his thoughts wrecking his mind once again.

He loves her, she was his everything from the start — his first kiss, first girlfriend, first fight. Alys was his everything, and now, she is nothing but a memory, a memory he wishes to wipe away quickly. 

How can you claim to love someone and leave them without any remorse? 

There is guilt and sadness, but mostly it’s the doubt and self-hatred that makes him want to sob. Many questions are swirling in his head about how he is the reason she has left. Maybe she was right about leaving him, no one would like to be the wife of a man who deals with heavy pain daily.

He takes another drag, relishing in the feeling of the soft evening breeze that kisses his heated skin, cooling him down a little. The smell of smoke grounds him in this world, making him forget about the mess that is probably happening in the church. He is sure his siblings and Mum are trying their best to talk to Alys’ relatives and other guests, explaining the situation in a hurry.

“Your suite must have cost thousands,” you say casually, announcing your presence as you walk with your long dress in hand, careful with how uneasy your heels feel on the soft grass, making your way to where he is sitting.

“Nothing compared to the decorations she ordered,” he scoffs, putting out his cigarette on the edge of the stone of the fountain before he straightens his neck and looks at you.

“Yeah, I saw them,” you sigh, fisting your skirt before sitting next to him, shoulders touching subtly, “she has a very… interesting taste. Who’d thought a lawyer would be into witchcraft?”

“She likes things no one can understand,” he says, gazing up at the wisteria tree, “I also paid for the dress you are getting wet grass stains on—“

“That was irrelevant because Hel bought it for me! She knew how much of an ass you’d be about it,” you chuckle a little, watching as a ghost of a smile finds its way to his face before it falters and his eye drops to the grass, the smile no longer visible.

“Yeah, maybe that’s why Alys left,” he scoffs in disbelief again, shaking his head a little as he thinks of every bad trait he has, considering all of them could be the reason she decided she was better off without him.

“Her loss,” you say softly, “you are too funny, little nerd, even for someone who can be a stuck-up ass sometimes.”

“You are lucky my sister loved you enough to keep you around because I’d get rid of you the second I could,” he mumbles, huffing out a small laugh when you punch his biceps playfully.

“That’s not nice, Aemond!” You laugh together, rubbing the place where you hit him, “You love me too, that’s why you will never get tired of me,” saying this, you can see his shoulder tensing — love, what a weird word to use. 

Does he love you? Does he even love anyone?

Maybe he does, but it wasn’t enough to keep his fiance with him.

Maybe his love was too much for Alys to bear.

“How did you find me?” He asks, his voice hoarse and thick, “I was trying to be invisible.”

“Give me that—“ you grab the pack of cigarettes from him, pulling one out and waiting for Aemond to light it for you. You inhale a puff, handing it back to him before looking up at the sky, “do you remember when you’d steal my books and go into your old stables to read?”

“I do, no one could find me,” he takes a drag of the cigarette, blowing out the smoke before he talks, “but you did.”

“I believed you would do it because you wanted someone to look for you,” you look at him with soft eyes, “and I always did. Your siblings had no idea where you would go, but I knew you like the back of my hand. Or maybe I just wanted my book back!”

He matches your smile, but you can see the pain in his eye, this is not a time to beat around the bush. He wishes to let it out — whatever it is. Perhaps it’s anger, frustration, betrayal, maybe it’s his ultimate desire to vanish into thin air to save himself from the press and humiliation that he’ll be going through.

“What did I do wrong?” He asks, and you must be able to see the agony he is in, he is in grave distress, and the cloud of doubt is causing a tornado in his head that will kill the remaining of his confidence, “did I not give her enough love, show her how much I wanted her?”

“You gave her your heart, something you would never do for someone you didn’t like,” you reach and squeeze his shoulder, “you did your best, gave her your everything. We all saw how devoted you were, it is not your fault.”

“Then why? Why?!” He asks desperately, looking at you with his wide teary eye, the ocean blue orb staring into your soul with need, “I thought I was everything she wanted, she said it herself—“ he looks away before he can cry, throwing his head back to stop the tears from falling, putting the cigarette between his thin lips.

“You are more than enough, Aemond—“

“She wasn’t worth it, was she?” He cuts you off, “she took me for granted,” he sounds so little, so fragile, and he feels so.

“You loved her! I’m sure, Aemond, that your love for her was so beautiful and precious, it was Alys who couldn’t be better.”

“She was the one who wanted to get married as soon as possible…” he whispers, closing his eye as he talks with the cigarette between his lips, “even Aegon made fun of me for not saying no to her, he said I needed to grow up and not give in to her whims.”

“Aegon is a little shit, he can’t even keep one girl in a one-month relationship. He should be the last person on earth to get advice from,” You nudge his shoulder, grab the cigarette, and pull it away from his lips, “loving your partner is not a crime. So what? You liked spoiling her, did you not?”

“Yeah, I did…” he says, looking back down at his fingers rubbing over the fabric of his pants, “Alys used to tell me I was a kid too, that I needed to grow up or else I wouldn’t be a good husband.”

“Oh, Aemond…”

He averts his gaze towards you, tears brimming in his eye, “I did everything I could,” he is helpless, the gut-wrenching feeling is eating him alive.

“Don’t bottle it up, little nerd,” you reach and push a few strands of his hair behind his ear, “you can cry, I’m here.”

And he does; he rests his head on your shoulder and starts sobbing quietly, tears falling on his scarred cheek.

“I’m here,” you whisper, wrapping your arm around his shoulders, making him feel safe enough to pour his emotions out.

Aemond has been avoiding the situation as best as he can; ignoring his grandfather’s calls, not leaving the house for a few weeks, and trying to get a hold on his life again.

All his efforts are in vain.

He still lives in the same apartment in Rosby he and Alys bought a few months ago, their photos and pictures hanging on the walls, the bed they used to sleep on together, their bathroom, their kitchen — everything feels like an old movie reel, a twilight zone he doesn’t know if he likes to leave or embrace and drown in it.

Aemond has been keeping contact with his siblings throughout the past week, refusing their help to come and live with him for a while, saying he wanted some time alone to figure out what he wished to do from then on.

The media is filled with pictures of him standing outside the garden catching the car speeding away — how the paparazzi get there? No one knows but the fingers are pointed at his half-sister and uncle. The pictures are all over the news and the internet, mainly using his Targaryen name to drag him into the dirt.

He plops down on the couch, unlocking his phone only to be greeted with thousands of texts from his Mum and Daeron, begging him to come home and stay the summer with them in Targaryen residency. It’s not an idea he hasn’t entertained before, in fact, he would like to go back home and take some time off for himself. So he texts Alicent and tells her he’ll move in with them for a while until he is better and ready to come back to this forsaken apartment.

He starts packing a few hours later, dirty clothes thrown into the washing machine while he sits on the floor with a huge suitcase ready to be filled. Suddenly his phone starts ringing, startling him greatly. He reaches for the phone on the bed, looking at the screen to see who’s calling him. You. Your name lights up his phone, making him smile a little, thinking probably the word has spread like wildfire.

“Hey,”

“Hey yourself, little nerd!” You say enthusiastically, “heard you wanna move back into your Mum’s place.”

“Hmm, yeah,” he sighs, securing the phone between his ear and shoulder as he talks to you, “a change would be nice, especially for the summer.”

“Then you’re in luck!” You reply, “Hel asked me to come and spend the summer at the mansion too!” he chuckles when he hears you groaning over who knows what before continuing, “Anyway, I’ll come to your place whenever you want so I can help you pack whatever you’d like to take there and then drive to King’s Landing.”

“Sounds great, I really appreciate the offer,” he agrees, grabbing the phone as soon as the washing machine stops, “I’d like it if you could take some time and come here tomorrow?”

“Of course, just send me the location, alright? The sooner we pack, the sooner we can have some of Aegon’s magnificent cocktails!”

“Urgh, that loser will be home too?” He feigns a groan, breaking character when he hears your snort.

“Stop being mean to him, he makes the best Sex on the Beach!” You both chuckle, knowing you are right, Aegon does make the best cocktails known to humankind, “We’ll have fun there, and I’ve missed Vhagar so much!”

“I missed her too,” Aemond says fondly, “thank you again for helping me out, I wouldn’t have reached out if you didn’t call me.”

“Oh I know, that’s why I called. You can always count on me! Anyway, I’ll come tomorrow and help you pack.”

“Alright, thank you, I’ll text you the address,” Aemond says, grabbing the basket to empty the wet clothes from the washing machine.

“See you tomorrow, Little nerd!”

“You should have told me you have a Chevy Camaro, I doubt we can fit anything in this little car!” you hug and greet him when he opens the door, “I brought my things too if it’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, sure, the sooner we pack, the sooner we can leave!” He replies, grabbing your suitcase’s handle, and leading you inside his apartment, “Don’t worry, my car has carried much larger things. This is nothing.”

“Whatever you say! Now— woah, you are packed already?” You look around the room, a few boxes neatly put on top of each other and labeled, one backpack and another half-filled suitcase on the floor.

“I just need some help with my clothes and whether I should…” he points at the framed photos on the walls, photos of him and Alys, “throw them out or send them to her with her belongings.”

“Well, I think you should give it some time before you do something you might regret,” you squeeze his shoulder lightly, “it seems we can go tonight, right? You don’t have many things left to pack.”

“Yeah, just a few clothes! You can get the snack while I put them in the suitcase—“

“No, no, lemme fold your clothes! You should start putting the boxes away, I’ll get everything ready,” you pat him on the chest, walking towards his bedroom to fold his clothes for him.

He nods silently and thanks you before he grabs the boxes and leaves the apartment. You both work quickly, taking a break and having tea together, you ask about how he’s holding up, and he dismisses your questions as best as he can, not really wishing to entertain the thoughts that’ll disturb him.

“Aemond, do you want to bring your books too?” You ask him, groaning as you drop the heavy box on his bed, “because I doubt we’ll have enough space to take all of these with us to King’s Landing.”

“Just those that are already tucked away!” He yells from the kitchen, finishing cooking for you, “We’ll finish it after dinner, c’mon.”

“Okay,” you sigh tiredly, not really expecting the packing to drag on for so long. After all, he said he only needed a few clothes, not half of his wardrobe with his expensive watches and sunglasses.

“I think we have packed enough for at least ten spontaneous parties Aegon will be throwing this summer,” you mutter, sitting behind the island in the kitchen.

“I doubt he’d let an occasion like my birthday let go so easily now that I’m back home,” Aemond shrugs, handing you a plate, “he mostly ignores the occasion but I’m sure he and Mum will do something, and make a huge deal out of it. That’s why I need to be prepared.”

“Well, it’s the first birthday in a while that I’m attending too so it better be something good!” You tease him, thanking him for the delicious meal.

“It will be, or at least Mum’s plans will be great. She has Daeron as her non-assigned assistant now that I’m gone and they make quite the duo. They always host the best gatherings together.”

“Alicent is a perfectionist, of course, she’ll be the best person to throw a birthday party for you,” you agree with him, “but you can’t deny that Aegon’s parties are always better! He’s reckless, and the drinks are the best.”

“Only the best for the oldest Targaryen son, right?” He sighs again, looking down at his plate, “Sorry, it slipped my tongue, I shouldn’t have said it.”

“It’s okay,” you reach and rub his forearm, “you’re dealing with lots of things now, I understand, we all do.”

“I hope I don’t ruin your summer with us with my stupid sappy attitude,” Aemond jokes — or at least tries to.

“Sappy or not, you are my best friend’s brother, and I watched you grow up! There is nothing you can do to make my time with you miserable,” you smile at him softly, finishing your plate before you both stand up to get ready and leave, “I’ll take care of the dishes, you go close your suitcase and we take whatever’s left to your car.”

Time passes quickly and you find yourself getting inside Aemond’s car later than you expected. He makes sure everything is packed and safe both in the apartment and in the trunk before he gets inside the passenger seat — he can’t drive at night because of his eyesight so you’ll drive to King’s Landing. It’s not a long ride fortunately; four hours by car and you’ll be there in no time.

Aemond, despite trying to keep up with the conversation, falls asleep halfway through the road, and you let him take a nap before you arrive there and get bombarded by questions left and right.

When you pull in front of the entrance gates, Cole is already waiting for you, ready to take your bags out and park the car even though someone else could be doing it.

“Hi, Cole,” Aemond greets him with a thick voice, rubbing his sleepy eye before he gives Criston a halfway hug, patting his back.

You shut down the engine, get out of the car, and greet Cole after you hand him the remote, following Aemond in the path leading to the entrance door with a few boxes in hand as you help him take a few of his belongings inside the house.

Alicent is already waiting in front of the door anxiously, slowly rubbing her throat and neck as she waits for Aemond to reach her before she brings him in a tight embrace, not minding the sharp points of the boxes digging in her sides — just having her son with her is enough to remedy all of her pain.

“My darling,” she tears up a little, caressing his hair and kissing his cheek, “I’m so happy you decided to come home, I missed you so much.” “I missed you too, Mother,” he pulls back a little to put the boxes down and hug her completely, resting his head on top of hers as she wraps her arms around him.

Everyone is interrupted when a series of barks echo in the house, and in a second, a huge fluffy black Chow Chow jumps on Aemond, licking his face happily. Vhagar, oh, how he missed his old lady. He chuckles and scratches behind her ears, ignoring all the stares as he reunites with her.

“Babyyyyyyy!” Helaena squeals before she runs towards you to help you with Aemond’s things, kissing you and giving you a side hug, “Thank you for agreeing to come! I’m sure we’ll have lots of fun together.”

“Thank you for having me, lovey!”

“I’m so thankful you helped him, darling,” Alicent pulls away from the pair nearly lying on the floor while one of them is having his face licked, her hand caressing your back as she draws you in her arms as well, “Thank you for bringing home, I’m in debt to you—”

“Oh, no, it was nothing!” You look at her before giving Aemond and Vhagar a cheeky smile, “It was the least I could do, I’m glad I could help.”

“Come, come! You must be tired, your rooms are ready. Cole will take your bags,” she says, leading the way with Aemond who has his free arm wrapped around Daeron, and Vhagar jumps next to his feet while you and Helaena follow them.

“Aegon is asleep, you know him, he has big plans for this summer, especially now that Aemond can use some distraction,” she bumps her shoulder to yours, “meaning we’ll have the time of our lives!”

“Yeah,” you smile at her before looking ahead of you, catching Aemond turning around to give you a quick smile, “What a summer it’ll be.”

[captainlunaxmen]

All For the Cameras

Chapter 11

Finnick Odair x fem!reader

Chapter 11 ladies and gentlemen!🥳

I'm sorry for keeping you waiting so much, but with my life right now, it's hard to find any good time to put my mind into writing.

Chapter summary: time to deal with the aftereffects of Capitol's imprisonment.

Chapter warning: mention of being raped, description of torture, panic attack, Finnick being a sweetie pie.

Tag list

@guacam011y @justtrying2getby @idontevenknow1359 @alexandra-001 @bambikitten @maggiecc @redh00dsbf @haneybunny @1-800-styles @sisiking99 @merromimo @yourdailymemedelivery @regsg18 @gordorio @bambikitten @gracieeleanorr @shev3nom @honethatty12 @savingprivatecass @erindiggory @martahabla @sterredem @aawdrea @wpdarlingpan @strawberry--fawn @barbarathewanderer @ih8books @a-mysterious-potato @mayonesavegana @celinaiscrying @katherinejess @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @abaker74 @syd649 @meikoo @secretsicanthideanymore @p1stachi @laylasshiftingtonight @yourmumstoy @s0urw00lf @kermits-bitch @littleshadow17

@piya-re @ivymyers @potao-o @wqstedyouths @kaceyh24 @miniatureblazellama @lillell4670 @11jaz @f1blogs @ooddiieesblog

I'm sorry if I can't tag everyone😔🥺

Masterlist

Finnick's Pov

Finnick is back at making knots, he need to keep his hands busy. Katniss and him are waiting for any news in his room.

"She's the reason we got ready on time." Katniss suddenly says.

"Uh?"

"Coin told me that Peeta confirmed her fears, but Y/n's message got her to be ready." She explains.

"Yeah? What did she say?" Finnick can't help but ask.

"Quick. Hide. Attack." She replies, "she had to choose her words carefully, but she managed."

"She's smart." Finnick wipes away a tear, "always been. I just hope they're okay."

"Me too." She whispers softly.

They stay in silence, waiting and waiting.

Finnick fears they're been sitting here for ages now. Thankfully, the door opens and Haymitch's head appears.

"They're back."

They on they feet in no time, running to the hospital side of the building.

As they enter the room they immediately hear Johanna screaming and snapping at the nurses and doctors.

"Johanna.." Kantiss gasps.

Her head is shaved and she looks like she's not been eating for weeks.

As Katniss sees and runs to Gale, Haymitch and Finnick follows her, Boggs being close.

"Where's Y/n?" Finnick can't help himself.

"She's resting." He answers.

"Why?!" Finnick's panicking hands holds the knot, "did something happen... is she okay?"

"It's not serious... but she was bleeding when we got to them." Boggs reassures him.

"What..?"

"Calm down." Haymitch puts a hand on his shoulder, "can we see her?"

"Of course, she's in the room next to Peeta's." Boggs makes way and they follow him.

They enter, quietly not to wake her up in case she's resting.

"Miss L/n?" Boggs calls.

"Please..." her broken voice almost brings tears in Finnick's eyes, "stop it..."

"It's alright, you're safe.." Boggs reassures her, he signals Finnick and Haymitch to stop where they are, "I promise, you are safe now. And... There's someone here for you."

"I'm... stop...pl.. please."

"What did they do to her?" Finnick broken voice comes out in a whisper, Haymitch hardly hears it.

"She's safe now. Let's focus on that, okay?" Haymitch puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Y/n... I'm colonel Boggs, district 13's head of security. You're in 13." Boggs tries again, "you are safe."

"It's not real, it's not real, it's not real..." she keeps repeating, using her hands as a shield to cover her face.

"I'm not sure, now's the best time. Whatever they did to her, I think it's-" Boggs starts to explain.

"Y/n..?" Finnick can't stop her name coming out of his mouth, he watches her stopping her movement. If before she was rocking back and forth covering her face, now she's as still as a rock. "Y/n... it's me."

The other two watch the scene carefully, silently.

Their eyes fixed on her next move. She slowly move her hands down, hesitantly. Her eyes carefully raise to look up at him, only to fill up with tears once they're set fully on him.

"No... don't... please." She cowers back, shaking her head.

"I'm here, my love." Finnick instinctively rushes to her, when she flinches he stops, raising his hands up, "I promise."

"Oh no..." she sobs, "they caught you too..."

"No... no, my love." He's fully crying now.

"It's all my fault, it's all my fault, it's... all my fault... it's all...." she keeps whispering.

"Love..." Finnick tries again, but she's almost deaf to his voice. He looks at Haymitch for support, but finds him completely powerless.

"Y/n... it's alright." Haymitch moves to come closer, but a loud noise from the room next to hers catches their attention.

"What's going on?" Haymitch asks, Boggs immediately rushes out, "I'll be right back."

Finnick goes back at looking at Y/n, her small figure breaks his heart into millions of pieces. He searches into her for a glimpse of the fighter he knows, he notices it... he notices her hand blindly moving on the mattress towards him, he doesn't think she's completely aware of it.

He takes a deep breath and reaches out to touch her hand. Once their hands touch she retreats her hand and her eyes shoot back to him in less than a second. They stare into each other's eyes, Finnick stays as still as he can, afraid that any movement could make her run or disappear. After a long, never ending moment she reaches again for his hand.

"Is that... are you..." she takes shaky breaths looking at any part of his face, "you're real..?"

"I am..." he nods, trying again to hold her hand, she lets him, "I'm real, I'm here... and we're in district 13."

"13..?" She gaps, "really?"

"Really, my love." He nods, bringing her hand to his lips to kiss the back of it, "we're really here."

"Are..." she tries to fight her broken voice, "are you sure?"

"Very." He nods again, "you're not in the Capitol anymore. You're with me."

"I'm sorry... I'm afraid I'll ask you that too many times."

"You can ask me as much as you need to," Finnick tells her softly, "and I'll answer each time."

She starts to sob, and brings a hand to cover her mouth, Finnick can see her relieved smile and can finally feel some calmness after so long.

"Oh my god..." she lets out an incredulous laugh, but it ends quickly when they hear a knock on the door.

"Can we come in?"

"It's Haymitch." Finnick tells her.

"Haymitch's here?"

"Yes, we're all here, I promise. Katniss, Beetee, Plutarch. Safe." Finnick explains, "can he come in? Is that okay?"

When she nods Finnick calls for Haymitch to enter.

"Hey, princess." Haymitch greets as he enters the room, "how do you feel?"

"I... I think I'm... not in danger..." she answers on a soft voice.

"Well, we take what we can get." Haymitch smiles.

"What... happened?" She asks motioning to the room.

"I..." Haymitch's hesitant, he looks at Finnick for support, but Y/n's voice regain his attention.

"I can take it, Haymitch." She smiles, tiredly.

Finnick too smiles, happy to see her regaining her fight.

"Peeta attacked Katniss."

"What?" Finnick asks, alarmed and confused.

"We don't know why..." Haymitch shakes his head, "it doesn't make sense."

"Where is he now?" She asks, pulling her hand back to herself.

"Sedated."

Y/n nods, understanding. When she starts fidgeting again, Finnick gently takes her hands.

"It's okay." He whispers softly.

"I can see the gears in your head working, L/n, what is it?" Haymitch asks.

"Uh...it does make sense." She simply says, "it makes so much sense."

"What do you mean?"

"I..."

A knock interrupts her, and Plutarch's head comes into view.

"May I?" He asks, and opens the door once he got a nod, "how are you feeling?"

"Can I not get asked that question for the next... 10 years?" She weakly chuckle and Finnick squeeze her hands.

"Of course." Plutarch smiles reassuringly, "may I introduce you to someone?"

"I... guess."

"Do you think this is the right time?" Finnick asks, getting protective.

"We're heading towards a war, mr Odair, we can't afford such thing as right time." He states before opening the door again, letting President Coin in.

Y/n sits up straight, getting a pang of pain, Finnick's immediately checking on her, but gets dismissed almost immediately.

"Easy, miss L/n. I'm president Coin, I came here to thank you personally." President Coin smiles. "If it weren't for your hidden messages, we would've never been ready on time for the attack. You helped save lots of lives."

"I... it was really the least I could do, ma'am." Y/n casts her eyes down, at her hands in Finnick's.

"You risked your life. Without knowing for sure if we even could get those messages, we owe you." President Coin continues, "Thank you."

Y/n and Coin look at each other, Y/n still looks like she thinks herself not deserving a thank you.

"You're welcome." She nods, grateful.

"Whatever you need, I'd be honoured to be of assistance." The president adds.

"Thank you... especially for rescuing us."

"Sorry, to interrupt this moment, but we were hoping you could give us some more information." Plutarch chimes in.

"She just got here, coul-" Finnick starts, but her hand squeezing his stops him.

"It's okay." She whispers to him, then referring to everyone, "I might have some... clarification on what's going on with Peeta..."

They all listen carefully at what Y/n is explaining.

Finnick notices her wincing a little when she talks about Peeta's treatment. He wants to ask more, but he decides to give her more time.

He owes her.

Y/n's Pov

The first hours here in 13 have been... surreal, to say the least.

I still find it hard to believe this, I'm so afraid everything will turn out to be just another illusion created by the Capitol to torture me. Sometimes I can't even look at Finnick... touching his hands is a comfort... most of the time, but seeing him is simply too difficult now. He keeps talking to me, to keep me grounded, I think, keeping the nightmares away at least when I'm awake. I try to keep a brave face, though I fear he sees right through it sometimes.

"You don't have to, if you don't feel good." He tells me as we follow Boggs to Katniss' hospiral room.

"It's okay. I promise." I say, looking straight ahead.

"You don't have to be so brave all the time." He grabs my hand, to reassure me. I squeeze it back and take mine back almost immediately.

"Here." Boggs opens a door for us.

"Thank you." I say entering and as soon as I see Katniss I rush to her.

I'm so glad to see Prim there too. Knowing her mother and sister are safe are a relief.

I see her trying to speak, but Prim stops her.

"It's okay... I-I'm sorry." I tell her sitting next to her, seeing her confused expression I add, "I.."

"She thinks it's her fault." Finnick explains, "one of the many gifts from the Capitol."

I unconsciously flinch at that, the guilt eating me every moment of the day, I try to rationalise it, think that it can't be all my fault... but I can't stop it.

Katniss puts her hand on mine, to comfort me, so I look at her with a sad smile.

"Good, you're already here." Plutarch walks in, followed by Beetee and Gale too, "we can start with the explanations."

"Yes, uh... what they did to Peeta is called, they call it, hijacking." I start, fidgeting with my hands once again, "I think they started doing... it to him as soon as they got us... uh...it's about using fear to change the person's perception."

"They enhance it with tracker jacker venom." Beetee adds. "You were stung your first games, remember?"

Katniss blink once, which makes me assume is yes.

"Exactly... uh..." I take a deep breath, "the venom sort of helps the subject dissociate... then they use shocks and beating to torture them... then all that fear and anger is reassociate with something else, person, memory... place..." I try to not let my broken voice show.

"They can change his memories of Katniss?" Prim asks me.

"Yes, if she was once his friend, now he's been tortured to see her as the enemy." I say.

"But why?" Gale asks, I look at him, he looks like he doesn't believe any of what I said, or he's just really confused.

"They turned him into a weapon, Katniss." Haymitch says, "to kill you."

"That's too easy, Haymitch..." I scoff out a laugh, "nothing is easy at the Capitol."

I notice Gale rolling his eyes, but saying nothing. I can sense he doesn't trust me.

"But you can reverse it." Prim guesses.

"The fear is the most difficult thing to overcome. We're hardwired to remember fear best." Beetee explain and I nod, sadly.

"It's new terrain," Plutarch chimes in, "but we've put together a team. I'm optimistic."

"Yeah... optimism won't do it this time." I scoff again.

"If any of this is true." Gale mutters and my head snaps to his direction.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Finnick asks, annoyed.

"What everyone here thinks." Gale answers, just as annoyed.

"Which is, mr Hawthorne?" I ask, as cold as I've ever been.

"As if you can't figure it out." He replies, jaw clenching with annoyance.

"Enlighten me." I challenge, Gale looks around and sighs deeply.

Everyone is either confused or frustrated by Gale's comment. Finnick and Haymitch particularly mad.

"You're Capitol's Princess. That says it all." He finally speaks again.

"Care to elaborate?" Haymitch asks, I don't think I've ever seen him this mad.

"What guarantees she's telling the truth? Or that she's not just a spy?" Gale asks.

"You think Peeta's actually mad at Katniss?" Prim's soft voice asks.

"You saw what he said on TV." Is Gale's answer which makes me actually laugh. The others looks at me confused while Gale's still angry.

"What?" I ask, "wasn't that a joke? Oh sorry."

"Do you think we're joking here?" Gale snaps again.

"Oh fuck off, will you?" I almost shout, standing up, "let me fucking guess, you're one of the people who believed Katniss and Peeta were actually in love in their first games? Despite knowing her, nonetheless." I ask and when he says nothing I go on, "you think yourself so smart, so above the 'lies' the Capitol tells everyone, but you're not. You're really not. They fooled you." I laugh again, frustration finally getting out.

He stays silent, answering my question.

"I think you should go, mr Hawthorne." Plutarch says.

"No, no, let him stay, let him stay." I rush out, "do you want to know what was actually happening?" He says nothing, "Hell. Hell was happening."

"Sure.." he says unconvinced.

"Yeah... of course you believe all the bullshit about the Princess, don't you?" I say, a bit calmer, shaking my head disappointed. "Did you know I had a brother?" I notice with the corner of my eyes Finnick lowering his head, he's one of the few who knows. "Did you?" I stress.

"No." Gale firmly says.

"That's because he was killed, right in front of me, because I dared to say no. Then Snow threatened to kill everyone else I care about if I refused again, and by that time I befriended almost all the mentors and victors. He got leverage. But that's still nothing, you all lost people because of the Capitol, nothing special right?" I see him swallowing nervously, "I bet you think the Victors' lives are a piece of cake. No. Once you win, you're a prisoner. If the Capitol find you attractive enough, you're sold." I look at Finnick, he nods reassuringly, "you either get sold or you're family pays. And the downside of being Capitol's sweet princess is people finding you just as attractive. So I was sold too. That's how I met Cal. His father paid for me, and I couldn't say no. I couldn't say no to anything he wanted to do. Anything." My voice starts to break. "He lived this as a love story, so engraved in his delusion that he felt this as a personal betrayal. He was the one torturing me every time."

"Y/n..." Finnick calls me softly, but I shake my head.

"Do you want to know what Peeta has been through there?" I look at Gale with tears in my eyes, " because I know... I was there, at every session, each noise, each silence, each... scream... I heard it all, not even my own pain could suppress it."

"I.." Gale starts, but I'm not having it.

"You what? You're sorry? You're sorry that they made me live fake memories? That they made me live memories where... where... "I blow out some air, tears making it hard to breath, Finnick comes beside me to comfort me, but I can't be near him, not right now, right now everything I've kept to myselfis coming out "they made me live a memory where all the people I've ever cared about blamed me, for all of this. Everything is my fault, I know, but hearing them all screaming at me...no. Then they made me believe I was being... I was... shit!" I scream, taking a deep breath, "they made me believe he was raping me... when actually it was Cal all the time... and of course he didn't stop there, I mean he didn't need to wait for the sessions.. when he was in the mood I was in a cell, where he could always find me... the day you arrived he... was just in time to... mark me" I lift my shirt to show Cal's name on my lower stomach, engraved,I take another deep and shaky breath as I lower the shirt back down, "so you see... the Capitol hurts your mind, it doesn't stop at your body. Too. Fucking. Easy." Venom clear in my voice, I turn to look at Haymitch wiping away my tears, his eyes are wet too, my voice gets softer, "they.. uh... they didn't turn him into a weapon to kill her, at least that's not their main reason... they want to destabilise her. Now if you'll excuse me."

I walk out.

I walk faster to the hospital room they assigned me, but I can't find it, I haven't got through chance to get my head around the labyrinth this place is. My breath is getting heavy and I need to be alone, but I don't know where to go.

"Miss L/n!" Someone calls, I turn around seeing Boggs jogging to get to me.

"I'm sorry... I... I just needed a moment." I tell him breathlessly.

"It's okay, come." He leads me to my room and sits me on the bed. "Match my breathing, okay?"

I nod and try to follow his breathing. In, hold it, and out. He uses his hand to emphasise the breathing, and to give me something to look at and focus on. Once I can breath normally again I look at him.

"Thank you."

"You might not agree, but we're the one who should thank you." He says and I shake my head, "I'm not one to soften things up, I'm not just being nice to you. I meant what I said."

"I... it's just..."

"The Capitol fucks you up?" He asks.

"Yes..." I lower my eyes, "I'm sorry."

"I can promise you, there's no one here you have to apologise to." He assures me.

"I just didn't mean to snap like that and throw everything that happened out like that."

"It would've been worse if you didn't." He explains, "bottling all that inside, won't do you any good. So anytime you feel like snapping, do it. Call me if you need to."

"Thanks."

"I stopped Odair from coming himself, I had a feeling he wouldn't do you any good at the moment." He tells me.

"Yeah, no... you were right..."I mutter, softly, I want to say more but I just take a breath.

"Okay, here's what we can do. You can tell me what you're clearly holding back, and I can just listen without saying anything. Or we can just breath." He suggests.

I look at him once more, and seeing his genuine offer to help I nod my head and after a long deep breath I start to explain.

"They use electricity and shocks to make you docile... numb. Then they project all around you images of people, places, then a voice narrate what they want you to live. It's like they put you to sleep and makes you dream of whatever they want... only the pain is real and you can't escape it by waking up." I sigh, "they used Finnick most of the time... having him blaming me, hurting me. I... I can't even look at him..."

"But you do know that's not real." He states.

"Yeah, I've lived in the Capitol all my life... I know their ways, long before they caught me I was preparing myself." I say, going back at fidgeting, "but I guess I was underestimating it."

"I don't think you did." Boggs tells me, "You know that what they showed you is not real. You're already halfway out of this."

"I don't know..." I shake my head.

"Plutarch and Haymitch told us a lot about you." He sits in front of me, "said your brain was one of a kind. Your strategies, ideas and suggestions are always on point."

"I think they were exaggerating..."

"I've know those two for merely weeks and the one thing I gathered is they don't praise just anyone. They meant what they said about you." He firmly explains, I sigh, looking away from him, "I understand you still have the lingering guilt in your head, you try to rationalise it, but you can't shake it off. But that doesn't make it real, okay?" I nod, "first step: say it out loud."

"I don't think I'm ready for it yet." I sadly smile.

"It's okay." He nods, not showing any disappointment, "also.. what you said to Gale... I was waiting for someone to put him in his place."

I laugh and he does too.

"Glad I could've been of assistance." I chuckle.

"Want me to call Odair or Haymitch?" He asks.

"I... no, thank you, but I need to be alone... for a bit more.." I answer.

"It's alright." He stands and walk to the door, "if you need anything, don't hesitate."

"Thank you." I nod. He does too and exits the room.

I stand up and walk to the glass cupboard close to the bed. I look at my fade reflection and lift my shirt up, looking properly for the first time at Cal's work on me. They gave me stitches, it will probably leave a scar. I sigh, lowering my shirt once again and I go to lay on the bed again.

Flashes of what happened at the Capitol make their way into my brain, I close my eyes and cover my ears to prevent them from getting out. I start to have troubles breathing, I sit up straight, a hand on my chest to control my heartbeat. Tears forming in my eyes. I try to remind myself that I'm not there anymore, I'm not a prisoner anymore.

"It's not real, it's not real, it's not real." I keeo whispering to myself.

Dread fills my veins when I hear a knock on the door.

"Y/n?" Finnick careful voice reaches my ears, "are you okay? I won't come in, just... say something."

I try to take a very deep breath and walk to the door, not opening it, but I hold my hand to touch it.

"I'm okay." I weakly say.

"Would it be okay if I stayed out here?" He gently asks.

"You... you don't have to." I tell him, "I' sure you have things to do."

"None more important than you." He states, "I'll just sit here, if you need something, knock." He lets out a soft chuckle.

"Finnick..." I start.

"You know I'm stubborn. There's no use in arguing."

I hear him sitting down.

"I'm okay, Finnick." I try one more time.

"I know." He replies, "this is just a great spot to sit and rest actually."

He makes me chuckle a little and I decide to sit down against the door too, we would be back to back if it weren't for the door between us.

"It is quite comfortable, I have to agree." I say.

"See? Best spot in the whole district." He laughs.

We sit in silence, a comfortable silence.

Every now and then I'm sure I heard Haymitch's voice trying to get him to go to lay down on a proper bed and Finnick would always answer that he's more than comfortable like this.

He spent all night out of my room, checking on me every now and then.

Tomorrow I'll get checked again, any sort of injuries they haven't detected, or help me get my mind to work better again.

I need to fix my mind, I want to stop these thoughts, I want to... I need to.

[bookish-bogwitch]

Hello! Thank you for the tags, @blackberrysummerblog @mooncello @monbons @artsyunderstudy @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @thehoneyedhufflepuff @nausikaaaand and @alexalexinii. You are wonderful!

Today I'm sharing an anxious plea for reassurance + a snippet of chapter 9 of Basil Pitch's Diary, posting June 7. Below the cut for spoilers and anxiety.

<ANXIETY> I'm working on chapter 10 now and friends, it's slow going. I still love this fic with all my heart, but chapters 1-9 I had mapped out more or less scene by scene months before I started posting, and before writing most of them. Writing them was like novelizing a movie I'd watched in my head a countless times.

For the rest of the fic, though--Ch 10-13--I had only broad strokes figured out. I knew the very ending, and a handful of key emotional beats along the way, but the connective tissue was basically "Collect Underpants ... ? ... Profit."

I've now plotted the rest out in reasonable detail, with help from the extremely kind and insightful @facewithoutheart and @thewholelemon. But I am a plotter to the core and it feels much scarier to be writing a story I just made / am still making up than one that's been living in my head for years.

Also, you guys: Chapter 9 is really fucking good. I'm really proud of it and excited to share it. And also scared that the rest of the fic won't live up to the promise of all I've set up. This fic is my baby and I just really want to nail it.

Intellectually I know I'm just swinging on the creative-confidence pendulum, and that future me will be able to write as well as past me. These doubts are just intrusive thoughts, skittering around my head like the mice that live in my walls. Harmless, but such a nuisance. </ANXIETY>

Anyway! Here are some sentences of Chapter 9, which, did I mention, is really good. Baz is finally going dancing with DeNiall.

“So, cousin. What’s your strategy?” I just raised an eyebrow and gestured at myself. My shirt was a perfectly cut navy so sheer that it read as cobalt over my pale skin. Climbing my chest were embroidered red and pink roses, between which you could clearly see my nipples. I’d changed out of Oxford cloth at Fiona’s. (I didn’t tell her I’d stopped in Blackfriars to drop off my grandmother’s furs and my grandfather’s Dickens.) Through my sleeve you could also see my mother’s wand holster, which my father now insists I wear whenever I leave the house. He’s also looking for a second dog. Something more territorial than Rusty, whose lick is worse than his bite. After the numpties he spent a week teaching me defensive spells. His skill surprised me, though it shouldn’t have. Once, when I was small, someone tried to mug him as we were leaving a theatre. My father didn’t panic or capitulate, just calmly kneecapped the man with a vicious Why me, why now. 

Tagging @angelsfalling16 @brilla-brilla-estrellita @palimpsessed @cutestkilla 

@comesitintheclover @confused-bi-queer @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @drowninginships @dragoneggos

@emeryhall @ebbpettier @aristocratic-otter @hushed-chorus @youarenevertooold 

@ic3-que3n @shrekgogurt @ileadacharmedlife @ivelovedhimthroughworse @j-nipper-95

@katatsumuli @valeffelees @martsonmars @whogaveyoupermission @whatevertheweather 

@messofthejess @nightimedreamersworld @alleycat0306 @raenestee @wetheformidables 

@onepintobean @run-for-chamo-miles @skeedelvee @alleycat0306 @iamamythologicalcreature

@twokisses @shrekgogurt

[kkyaka]

Chapter 1: In Limbo

Limbo: Any in-between place, state or condition of neglect or oblivion which results in an unresolved status, delay, or deadlock

Summary: Meeting Aomine after seven years in the store and finding out he has a kid was definitely not what you were expecting when you were out shopping. But the last thing you expected was becoming a babysitter turned nanny looking after his kid. Word Count: 11, 483 Warnings: awkward encounters, lots of angst in this chapter, reader thinks aomine cheated on her aomine doesn't have a great relationship with his son, aomine is still way into you, reader plays beach volleyball, reader is a part time babysitter, painful trips down memory lane, reader chews aomine the fuck out, if there's anything else I missed please lmk lol A/N: Hope you enjoy this! I had a bunch of fun writing it, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

MASTERLIST

You check off the last snack that you have on your grocery list, seeing that the next thing on the list is a couple of aisles down. You're about to move but you jump when you feel something tap at your back. You look over your shoulder, having to look down to see a kid standing behind you. He doesn't look happy, and it looks like he's on the verge of tears.

"Are you okay?" you ask, fully turning around and crouching down.

"I can't find my dad," he says quietly, and you carefully put your hand on his shoulder.

"Okay, okay. Don't worry. I'll help you," you reassure, and he takes a deep breath. "I'm pretty sure he's looking for you, so why don't we wait here to see if he comes down this aisle?" He nods and you look back and forth at either end of the aisle to see if you see a man that looks like he's looking for someone. "What's your name?" you ask, looking back at the kid.

"Taj."

"Nice to meet you, Taj," you say, introducing yourself after you respond. Since it's so early in the morning, there aren't a lot of people in the store, so you're hoping that'll make resolving this situation a lot easier. "How old are you?"

"Seven," he says, looking over the stuff that you have in your cart.

"Do you remember where you last saw your dad?" He shakes his head after he shrugs causing you to sigh a little. "Do you remember if it smelled like anything?" you try, hoping that he knows something that might help. He shakes his head again, and you don't try to ask him another question because you don't want to overwhelm him.

"It was cold," he says after the both of you are silent for a bit.

"Okay! That's good!" you respond. "What was he doing before you lost him?"

"He was on the phone, and I wanted some juice, but he wasn't listening to me. So, I wanted to try and find it myself." His lips wobble a little, and you're quick to console him.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Let's see if he's still over there, alright?" He sniffs, nodding shortly after. "You wanna push the basket?" you try, and you smile when one pulls at the corner of his mouth. You move letting him put his hands on the handle before you put yours on the outside of his. You walk carefully to make sure that you don't step on his feet.

You guide him towards the frozen aisles even though you're pretty sure you're doing most of the pushing. You have him look down the aisles to see if he sees his father, but to your dismay, he doesn't see him. "How about we go get that juice you wanted?" you ask, rubbing over his head to get his attention. "Then we can go to the front and get some more help."

He's silent again as he nods, and you hope that it keeps him from freaking out just a little bit longer until you can find his dad. You go down the juice aisle, letting him pick out which one he wants. He instantly knows which one to get, and you let him hold onto it as you head toward the register.

You go through the self-checkout, buying him the juice before you walk over to where all the carts are kept at the front of the store. You're glad that you barely started shopping, so there isn't a lot in your cart; just the snacks you picked up right before Taj approached you.

"Hey, bud, it's gonna be okay," you tell him, crouching down again when it looks like he might cry. "I promise we'll find your dad." You look up, looking for a worker to alert about the situation.

"Taj, oh thank God!" you hear, and his face lights up in recognition as he runs out of your reach. You quickly stand, turning around to see Taj being held by his dad as he hugs him tightly.

"Thank--" You freeze when you finally see who Taj's father is, and he does the same, his words getting caught in his throat at the sight of you. He says your name in what sounds like disbelief, and you give him an awkward smile.

"Aomine," you respond, not knowing what to say. He's still holding Taj, and it's like he doesn't know what to say either, the air starting to feel stifling as it takes an uncomfortable turn.

"Um, thanks for staying with him," he eventually says, and you shake your head as you wave him off.

"It was no problem. I'm just glad you're reunited." You try to swiftly end the conversation so that you can get back to shopping and get out of here. You're about to leave when Aomine suddenly looks down at his son's hands.

"Where'd you get this from?" he asks, softly taking the juice from him, too wound up in the fact that he found him to see what he was holding.

"She bought it for me!" Taj answers cheerfully, and Aomine looks at you right as you start to move away.

You huff a little. "He said he wanted some juice, so I just got a little bottle," you try, wondering if he'll be mad at you for doing so.

"Let me pay you back," he says, which surprises you, and your eyes widen when he sticks his hand in his pocket.

"No, no! It's okay, it's just juice," you chuckle, trying to ease the tension out of your shoulders, and you put your hands on the basket, hopefully signaling the end of this conversation. "I'm just glad to he's with you," you repeat and before you can take a step, Taj is wiggling out of Aomine's arms and making his way toward you.

"Thank you for the juice! And for staying with me!" he beams, and you smile down at him as you rub over his head, hugging him back when he hugs you.

"Of course, Taj. Just tell your dad where you're going next time, okay?" He nods quickly, and you laugh softly before you try to make your escape again, but it seems like fate doesn't want that just yet.

"So, how have you been?" Or rather, it's him that doesn't want that just yet. You turn around to see that Aomine's standing closer to you than before, Taj standing next to him.

"Pretty good I would say," you say, almost sounding like you're forcing it out until you compose yourself. "Just taking it day by day. How about you? I bet you're having the time of your life," you continue, talking about the fact that he's very popular in the professional basketball setting.

"You could say that," he says with a half-laugh, and it now dawns on you that he has a kid. And he's seven. The last time you saw Aomine was a little over seven years ago, and that was when you finally called it quits. You don't want to jump to conclusions, but you can't help but think if he was seeing someone else while you were together.

The thought leaves a sour taste in your mouth, and you decide to get out of this conversation. "I really have to go, I've got to meet with some friends," you say, not even fumbling over your words as you lie. "It was good to see you," you slowly finish because it actually wasn't, but you're pretty sure that's what you're supposed to say. Right?

Taj tells you goodbye, giving you a wave that you return with a smile before you walk off with your cart, not daring to look back. You could just walk out and forget shopping altogether, but there's nothing in your house, so you needed this shopping trip. You move as fast as you can, hoping that you don't have to run into him anymore.

You ended up getting a lot more groceries than you thought, but you're in and out of the store without running into Aomine again. You make it to your car and start moving the bags into your car. You have big reusable bags that you put multiple groceries in, but that means that they're more on the heavier side.

You hear your name being called, and you turn around to see Taj running toward you with Aomine right behind him. Your heart sinks a bit at the sight of Aomine, sighing internally but putting on a smile when Taj gets to you. He holds his hand up, and you see that he has a flower in his hand. You gasp softly, taking it as you have a hard time fighting your smile.

"What's this for?" you laugh, lowering yourself to his level, and he steps closer to give you a hug.

"I wanted to thank you for staying with me and helping me find my dad," he tells you when he pulls away.

"Thank you, Taj. You didn't have to do that," you say before holding the flower up to your nose to smell it. "But this happens to be my favorite." You rub his head again, standing up fully, and Aomine's moving toward you.

"Let me help you with your bags," he offers, and you don't get a chance to deny it because he's moving before you can speak. He moves them quickly without any trouble, but then Taj wants to help also, which slows Aomine down a bit. You just stand there, wondering how your morning got sidetracked so quickly.

When they're done filling your car, Taj wants to run the cart back to the cart corral, and Aomine lets him since it's in his eyesight. He warns him to watch out for cars, and you both smile as you watch him carefully push it over there. You keep your attention on Taj in hopes that his dad won't start another awkward conversation.

"I don't know how I can thank you." You sigh again, pointedly turning your head.

"Don't worry about it. But maybe just keep an eye on him next time?" you try with a soft chuckle.

"I was on the phone, and I just got caught up."

"You don't have to explain anything to me. I mean, it's not like we really know each other," you add, kicking at imaginary rocks on the ground when you look down at your feet, so you miss the way Aomine's body sags at your words.

Taj comes running back, and Aomine hides his face with a smile as he gives his son a high-five. "Well, I really should get going. Thanks for helping me out," you say, looking down at Taj. Aomine seems to get the hint this time because he nods before beginning to step away from your car when you walk to the door.

"It was really good seeing you," he admits, but all you can respond with is a nod and a tight smile. You give one last wave to Taj before getting in the car, and you can see the two of them turn around and walk to their car in your rearview mirror. Aomine straps Taj in the backseat, and you can see him look at your car one last time before he gets in his. You grab the steering wheel before letting your head fall on top of it, releasing a loud groan that you couldn't before.

You start the car and make a point to not think about the last hour of your life as you drive home. You rationalize the whole thing by coming to the conclusion that you'll never see him again. At least in person, and speaking of that, how did you not know he had a kid? You hadn't been following Aomine's NBA journey because you didn't want to look at anything that reminded you of him after you graduated high school.

You feel like you might've heard about a kid if you think about it, but for some reason, you just never put it together that he belonged to Aomine. But now that you've seen him, there's no mistaking that he's Aomine's kid. He's basically a photocopy of him, even down to the same color hair. You're sitting at a red light when you realize that you're now thinking about someone that you said you weren't going to think about.

But you know you won't be able to get over it until you analyze every new piece of information you found out today. Taj is seven? The question just makes you go back to those bad thoughts. He's definitely not your kid, and you don't know his birthday so you can't match it up to when you and Aomine broke up.

A car honking snaps you out of your thoughts, and you drive through the light, already thinking of ways to get your mind off of this. The rest of your drive home goes by in a blur once you fully immerse in the music you have playing in your car. You get to your apartment, sighing as you mentally prepare yourself to carry all of your groceries to your door.

Even though you're on the verge of sweating and desperately want to sit down, you put your frozen and refrigerated groceries up before you sit down on the couch. You sit in silence for a while as you wait for your heartbeat to settle down, letting your head fall back so that you can look at the ceiling.

You let your hand fall over your eyes, laughing a little as you think about everything that happened this morning. And then you shake your head when you realize that you don't look your best today, but then you cut yourself some slack because it's early in the morning on a weekday. There was no reason for you to go all out for a grocery trip.

But seeing Aomine of all people? Do you really want to take that trip down memory lane? Something that you've been trying to get over ever since it happened? You quickly decide that you don't want to; it's too early in the morning for you to get your mood ruined.

You get up once you're not close to sweating and your heart has calmed down. You start to put away the rest of your groceries, and you're grabbing the last of the stuff when a receipt floats to the floor. You frown because you swore the cashier gave it to you, and you put it in your back pocket. You put your chips away, closing the cabinet before picking up the receipt.

You see that there's only one item that's been bought, and you look further down to see a phone number. You scoff when you recognize the number, rolling your eyes when they read the message of wondering if you'd like to catch up. You ball up the paper before throwing it away. You're not going through that again, and there is no reason for you to be in contact with Aomine anymore.

It's been about a month since that run-in with Aomine, and you hate how you're constantly on edge whenever you go to the store. Whenever you get to the car when you're done, your shoulders hurt when you relax from how tense you've been. For the first two weeks, it was like you were waiting to just run into him again. Then after that, you sort of snapped yourself out of it. The chances of you seeing Aomine again were very slim, so after a while, you finally started to relax. You had absolutely no reason to be anxious.

The weather is starting to cool down a bit thank goodness, so you're allowed to do a bit more with the kids you're babysitting. You've been babysitting for a few years now, trying to find something to make ends meet when you're not working. You weren't always working seasonally, but it paid a little more and you got more freedom, so you took the opportunity.

You've grown your clientele over the years due to babysitting for friends, and then they would tell their friends, and so on. The kids you're babysitting now you've been watching since they were babies. Their mom is one of your best friends, and you always help her out when she and her husband's jobs have them staying somewhere out of the city.  

You're at the park with them today since it's a lot cooler than it has been since September is right around the corner. You're sitting on one of the benches, reading a book that you've been meaning to finish while you keep an eye and ear on the kids. You look up when you finish the chapter to make sure you can still see them before you look down to start the next one.

"Hi, y/n!" You frown as you raise your head because the voice doesn't sound like your kids but it does sound familiar.

"Taj?" you question with an eyebrow raised. "What are you doing here?"

"My dad brought me," he answers, and you look up in time to see Aomine walking up to you. So much for your chances of seeing him again being slim to none.

"Funny seeing you here," he jests, and you give him a tight-lipped smile.

"Yeah," you mumble.

"Are your kids playing here, too?" Taj asks, and your smile is genuine as you shake your head.

"No, they're my friend's kids. I'm babysitting," you explain. "You wanna meet them? They're around your age." Taj doesn't really give you an answer, looking a little on the hesitant side, but you don't get a chance to continue because the kids come up to you.

"Do you have any snacks, Auntie?" Kayla asks, and you know her brother is going to ask the same thing.

"Yeah, but I want you to guys to meet someone first," you start. "This is Taj, and he's around you guys' age."

"I'm Tyson," your nephew says. "How old are you?"

"Seven," he answers quietly.

"So am I! I'm Kayla!" she shouts. "And I like your hair!" she compliments, and you laugh a bit. "You can play with us if you want."

"Okay," Taj whispers, nodding his head. You hand them some snacks after getting them some hand sanitizer. You offer some to Taj as well, and they snack a little before they go back to the playground. Aomine's still standing when they leave, and the air suddenly turns awkward like it did at the store.

"You mind?" he asks, gesturing toward the bench. You shake your head as you scooch over a bit, and Aomine sighs as he takes a seat next to you. "So, you're babysitting now?"

"Yeah, kinda," you say, nodding your head a little. "I work a seasonal job remotely, so I babysit for a little extra money."

"How long you been doing that for?"

"A while," you chuckle. "I started right before senior year of college, but the amount of kids that I babysit now has really grown since then." He nods after you're done, and you don't know what to ask him because you already know what he's been up to. But then that one thing that's been bugging you in the back of your mind comes up.

"You know," you begin, "Taj is seven."

"Right," Aomine responds slowly.

"And we...broke up a little over seven years ago." You look away at the kids playing, and you hear Aomine sigh.

"Yeah?" he voices, and you know he's probably wondering where you're going with this.

You take a deep breath before you get the courage to look at him, and you jump internally when you see that he's staring right at you. "Did you--" You don't even know if you can get it out. "Did you cheat on me?"

If someone saw the look on his face, they probably would've thought you insulted him to the highest degree. "Of course not. I would never." He sounds offended, a little hurt, and you hate to say that you're relieved he sounds that way. "I swear I didn't cheat on you, but it's complicated with Taj's mom."

You nod in lieu of speaking, still getting over how eased you feel knowing that he didn't cheat on you. It's been bothering you since you found out about Taj, and it would've just put more salt in the wound if he said yes.

"Are you seeing anyone?" he asks after the both of you are silent for a while.

"Nah," you huff, shaking your head. "Been kinda on the busy side lately." You're not looking at him as you answer, but you hear him hum, and you can see him stuff his hands in his jacket pockets. "Are you seeing anyone?" You don't really care, but you feel like you have to or you should ask.

"No." He answers the same way you do with a huff and a shake of his head. "Haven't seen anyone in years." You nod quietly, hiding your surprise as best as you can. That's honestly a shock to you, but he could just be referring to dating and not how many people he's slept with.

Silence falls between you again, and you relax against the back of the bench, feeling your shoulders hurting from how tense you are. How are you supposed to sit here and act like everything is fine when he broke your heart seven years ago? You want to say that you're over it, but fuck, did it hurt. You don't know if you can sit here and act like what happened between the two of you didn't happen.

"You, uh," he starts, picking at some loose lint on his pants, "you never texted."

"I don't have your number," you lie, kicking at the ground a little.

"You didn't see it on the receipt?"

"I don't think I did," you claim, slowly shaking your head. When you look at him, he has this look on his face, but you don't keep eye contact for too long for fear that he'll see right through you.

"Well, we should probably exchange numbers," he continues, "you know, for the kids."

You look at said kids. Is he seriously using them to get your number?

"Sure," you sigh, figuring that if you do give him your number, it doesn't mean that he'll be texting you all of the time. You take your phone out of your pocket, unlocking it before handing it to him. "You didn't text yourself?" you ask when he gives you back your phone.

He shakes his head. "No, I still have your number saved."

"After all this time?" you joke, but you're mostly laughing to hide your disbelief.

"Of course." You look forward instead of looking at him, turning your attention to the kids playing. You hate how a part of you finds it endearing that he still has your number saved. The other part of you however is confused as to why he still would. Towards the end of your relationship, he didn't make it known that he cared about you that much. You briefly wonder if he even had your name still saved by the time you called it off.

You internally shake your head. It doesn't matter anymore, that was all in the past. You can maintain a civil relationship with him even though you don't really want to. What you want to do is scream at him and ask him why he spent so much time chasing you back then just to break your heart in two. It took your friends to convince you that everything that went down back then wasn't your fault.

You felt like it was though because you didn't want to mess with him in the first place, but you did it anyway. You met in your last year of high school when he transferred, and you knew the basketball coach, so he asked you to show him around to make sure he doesn't get lost. He already had everybody's attention because he was the new kid, but you didn't want to give him any more attention. There was no reason to.

But the fact that you didn't really care about him seemed to only make him more interested in you. You had a couple of classes together, so he used that to mess with you every chance he had. Along with that, you were the manager for the girls' basketball team, which meant you were seeing him even more. Whenever there was an away game, you were stuck on the bus with both teams, and Aomine always found a seat near you.

The coaches were strict about boys and girls not sharing seats, but he didn't let that stop him. He was always looking for you whenever he was playing, and he'd always do it whenever he scored, knowing that you'd be looking. You always told him how much he annoyed you, but it never seemed like he cared. If you were on the bus after an away game, you would always sit in the back, trying to get some of your homework done.

Aomine would be sitting in the seat across from you, watching you until you finally said something. He would use these bus rides back to be a little bit bolder in his advances. A lot of people would go home with their parents after the games, but you and Aomine, most of the time, weren't in that category.

After one game, you finally gave in, letting him kiss you on the way home. You knew how attractive he was, and you'd be crazy not to be into him, but you held out for so long.

But you still wouldn't let your guard down. It took him weeks after that, and multiple sneaky kisses to convince you that he was really into you. Even after the season was over, he was promising to take you out, showing you how serious he was. You didn't tell anyone when you finally made your relationship official, but people basically already knew. Since it was your last year in high school, you both, of course, had the college talk.

Neither of you wanted the other to sacrifice their future for the other, so you ended up going to different schools, but they were close to each other. At first, it was great; you and Aomine were talking all of the time and seeing each other during your breaks. But then he started to get more distant. You knew that he was busy with practice since he was being scouted for the NBA, but he would go days without contacting you.

When you finally got around to seeing him in person, he wasn't the same Aomine that you knew. He was paying more attention to his friends, practically leaving you out of everything. You couldn't handle it anymore, and when you finally blew up, he looked at you with the most bored look on his face. It was then you realized that you wasted almost a year of your life with him.

When you walked out, he tried to call for you, but you ignored him. You went home, not even bothering with crying because you had done that on the way home. He tried to call you and text, but you ignored every single one until they stopped. You never saw him again and you didn't want to. You briefly heard his name filtering through sports news, but that was it. You finally healed and moved on from him, having a couple of partners since then, but it never really led toward anything.

The one thing you didn't like was that it felt like something was missing with them, but you could never figure it out. The last thing you expected to happen was to run into him and reunite him with his kid. Life sure has a way of throwing the most random things at you when you least expect it.

"So, you come here often?" Aomine's voice snaps you out of your daydream, and you look at him with an amused yet confused smile.

"To the park?" you question.

"Uh, yeah," he starts, taking one of his hands out of his pockets. "Like, with the kids I mean. How often are you here?" he finishes, waving his hand before he rubs at the back of his neck.

"It depends on where their parents are," you answer. "If their parents are out of town and the weather's nice, then they usually like to spend their time here." You watch him nod at your answer. "But they'll be home for a while, so I probably won't be here as much," you add. It's definitely not a lie, but you hope that by you telling him this, he'll tone it down a bit. You have no desire to try and build a whatever with him again. That ship has sailed.

You know what he's doing, and it's like it's high school all over again. He's got another thing coming if he thinks that you'll just let him back in again. It's gonna take a lot more than coincidental meet-ups.

"I saw you on TV one time," he starts after the silence becomes some awkward, you nearly can't stand it. "You're amazing at volleyball."

"Thanks," you say softly, curling your lips into your mouth to try and hide your smile. "My friend needed a sand partner in college, and I've been playing ever since."

"So, you have any tournaments coming up?" he asks, and you can't help but look at him, wondering what in the hell is going through his head.

"Not for a while. Once it gets warmer, they'll start back up, so that means I gotta start training now," you laugh softly, mentally preparing yourself for the tough workout you're going to have to start soon. "I usually workout anyway, but I'm gonna have to do a little more if I wanna be in good shape."

He nods, and you take his silence as the end of the conversation. You look back the kids playing, checking the time on your phone. They just got here, so there's no way you're going to be out of this situation any time soon. "You taking anymore clients?" The question makes you freeze for a split second as your heart drops a bit. He can't be asking you what you think he's asking.

"You need a babysitter?" you tease even though no part of you finds this funny.

"Well, Taj seems to really like you, and the season's about to start, so I won't have much time to watch him," he says.

Your mind is racing with thoughts as you think about whether or not to consider. The money would be nice, but seeing Aomine for who knows how long isn't something that you want to do. But Taj seems like a really sweet kid, so you hope in the end, it'll all be worth it, and Aomine will be out of your hair before you even realize it.

"When do you want me to start?"

His eyes cut towards you. "Seriously?" You just give him a look, and he clears his throat. "As soon as possible for you? I've got about a month left before everything is gonna get hectic, so--" He trails off and you nod.

"I can send you all the details and let you know when I'm available."

"Cool," he replies quietly. "Thanks."

"Sure." You internally release a heavy sigh. It feels like time has slowed down immensely. Thankfully, he doesn't try to make anymore conversation, and since you have nothing else to do, you start to get everything ready. You've had to start getting pretty thorough with the paperwork, so you go ahead and try to get a jump on it.

The kids play until they get tired, and you're more than ready to get out of here. The kids had fun playing, and you tell Taj that he can always hang out with them again, and you let Aomine know that you'll be sending him the information within the next week. You follow your niece and nephew to the car, silent as you think about how you ended in this situation. Past you would be screaming right now.

You decide to push it away, focusing all your energy on your plans for the rest of the day. You'll save the sulking for later.

~

"Are you fucking with me right now?"

"You think I would joke about something like this?" you sigh, putting your elbows on your knees before putting your face in your hands. When you dropped off the kids, your friend could tell something was wrong, and it didn't take her long for her to get it out of you.

You're currently on the couch, telling her the events that happened today. You didn't tell her about running into him at the store, figuring that seeing Aomine was just a one-time thing, but his presence at the park today told you that wasn't going to be the case.

"And now you're gonna be babysitting his kid?" she asks, and you rub your fingers over your eyes, a smiling forming on your face against your will. You feel like you have to laugh hearing it out loud. "He didn't cheat on you, did he?"

She was one of the people that was your support system after you broke up with Aomine. It broke you to the point where you almost didn't go to class. She was the reason why you were able to pick to be yourself back up again. To say you fully recovered wouldn't really be the truth, but it was enough to where you could go long periods of time without thinking about him.

You're quick to shake your head. "No, he said he didn't. He actually looked distraught that I even asked him that."

She sighs as she lays back against the couch, and you copy her, letting your body fully relax as your hands make their way over your eyes. "Well, this is not what was on my bingo card for you this year."

"You're telling me!" you exclaim softly. "God, what did I even do for this to happen?" you ask out loud to yourself. "His kid is cute though. Looks just like him," you continue. "And hopefully, when all of this starts, I'll be seeing Aomine for as little as possible."

"So, you're actually going through with it?" she questions.

"Why not?" you shrug. "I kinda don't have anything to lose, and I'm making money."

"Well, if you need to me to beat him, I'll be there in an instant." You both laugh, and she pulls you into a hug.

"Thank you," you whisper into her hair. You didn't realize how much you needed to talk to her. Ever since Aomine came back into your life, you've been so tense, only realizing it when you hugged her.

"Of course."

You're currently driving to Aomine's house, blasting the music from the speakers to try and drown out the unpleasant thoughts. You can't believe a month has already passed so fast, and babysitting is the last thing you're worried about. You can't help but admire the mansions you pass as you start to get closer to his house, and you already knew that he was obviously loaded, but it doesn't really hit you until you're pulling into the driveway.

Aomine's already opening the door when you walk up the driveway as you lock your car, and you give him a friendly, closed-lipped smile as he steps to the side to let you in. You look around as you hear him close the door, and you take a deep breath. You turn around to face him, and you hate how your heart still skips a beat when you look at him. You will the younger part of yourself to stay at bay and remain professional.

"So, welcome to my home," he says awkwardly, putting his hands in his pockets, and you can't help but chuckle, hoping that it'll diffuse the stifling tension. "Lemme show you around," he says quickly after, and you follow him as he takes you through the house. "Obviously, this is the living room and the kitchen," he points out with a soft wave of his hand. "Feel free to help yourself whenever you're here by the way," he adds before continuing the tour.

He takes you down a hallway, and he shows you the laundry room before opening another door. "I know you said you work remotely, so if you're here while you're working, you can use this space for an office," he offers.

"Thanks," you say quietly, taking a look around the room. He takes you down another hallway, and you don't fight the excitement you feel when you see how big the gym he has is.

"You can use whatever, I'm not gonna be using this as much once everything starts," he tells you. "I know you said you needed to start training, so have at it." You're relieved to say the least. You never really like going to the gym, and the one at your apartment pales in comparison with his.

He shows you the backyard, which looks exactly like you thought it would with a big patio, pool, and everything. He takes you upstairs next, gesturing to one of the closed doors, telling you it's his room. There are a couple more bedrooms and guest bathrooms, and he shows you an open space next which you assume he uses for entertaining along with a playroom for Taj, seeing some toys scattered about.

Once that's done, you stop when he stops at a door, knocking on it before softly pushing it open. "Guess who's here," he says, and Taj looks up from his drawings, and you smile when his face lights up. He's quick to get up and run over to you, and you hug him tightly when he gets to you.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, barely pulling away from you.

"I'm gonna be your babysitter since basketball season is about to start," you tell him.

"Really?" You laugh as you nod.

"I'm gonna talk to your dad some more, and then we can do whatever you want." He nods before he goes back to drawing, and you smile as you watch him before you and Aomine make your way out of the room.

"Thanks again for doing this," he says as you walk down the hallway and back into the open space. "I owe you a ton."

"Don't worry about it. It is my job after all." He doesn't say anything immediately after you speak, and you try to think of anything to quickly fill the silence. "Well, thanks for showing me around. I'm gonna go back with Taj," you say, hoping that your words don't sound forced.

"Alright," he responds lightly. "I'm gonna be in the house, so if you need anything just let me know." You give him a nod before you turn around, and you try your best not to walk away too fast, making your way back to Taj's room.

He looks up when you walk in, and you sit down next to him on the floor. "Whatcha drawing?" you ask softly.

"A dragon," he answers quietly.

"Are they your favorite?" He nods, and you don't bother to ask him any more questions, deciding just to sit there and watch. He's pretty good, being able to tell what he's drawing without even asking him; you only did so to try and make conversation. You look around his room, seeing that there isn't anything on the walls, and the only things in the room are the furniture and some toys here and there.

"Can you draw?" he asks you suddenly, and you look at him to see that he's done drawing.

"Not really," you answer honestly. "But I can try." You grab a piece of paper and some crayons. "You want me to draw anything?"

"Can you draw a castle?"

"That seems easy enough." He moves closer to you once you start to draw, his attention solely focused on your paper, and a smile appears on your face at his actions. Your castle looks pretty decent, and you add bricks for a little more detail. Taj wants you to add in some more landscape, so you do, and he finishes it off by drawing another dragon.

"This looks amazing!" you praise. "You wanna hang it up?" you ask, and he nods quickly in response. You both stand, leaving the room to try and find some tape. He follows you down the stairs, and you make your way to the office to see if there's any tape in there. You cheer softly when you find some, and you tear the pieces off.

"You wanna hang this up in your room?" He nods and both of you make your way back upstairs, and you put the tape on the drawing before you hand it to him. He stands in the middle of the room, spinning around slowly trying to figure out where he wants to put it.

You watch him move over to his bed, and he stands on top of it so he can put it on the wall over his bed. You pick up a crayon off the floor, and walk over to him as he smooths down the paper. "Let's write our names, hm?" You hand it to him so he can write his first, and you take it from him, writing yours along with today's date. "Looks good, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," he says happily before he turns around to give you a hug.

"You wanna do something else or do you wanna keep drawing?" you ask.

"Drawing," he answers, getting off the bed, and you found yourself back on the floor next to him. You opt to watch him, only drawing something when he asks you, and soon enough, his once plain walls are covered in his drawings.

"You wanna ask anything about me?" you try once it seems like he's done enough drawing.

"Can I?"

"Sure! Ask me anything you want."

You smile when you see the wheels turning in his head as he thinks of what to ask, and you wait patiently for this question. "How old are you?"

You laugh softly, knowing that was coming. "I'm twenty-five."

"Is babysitting your job?"

"One of them, yes," you answer with a nod. "I work another job remotely but not for the whole year. I also play volleyball."

"Really? Is it fun?" he asks, clearly engaged in the conversation.

"Yeah, I have lots of fun! I love volleyball. You wanna see me play?" He nods quickly, you pull your phone out of your pocket before scrolling through your gallery to find a video from one of your tournaments. You find, turning your phone to the side and moving it towards him. He moves closer to you, and you point at the screen once the video starts. "That's me on the right."

He watches the whole thing, completely engaged. "Woah! You're so cool!"

"Why, thank you," you laugh, easily accepting the compliment. "You wanna try it out?" He nods quickly, and you both stand up again, this time on the way to your car. Aomine's in the living room watching TV, and he's looking at his phone when he hears you both coming down the stairs.

"How long have you been playing?" Taj asks you as you walk through the house.

"Since middle school." Aomine smiles as he watches you interact, completely ignoring him, but he doesn't mind it at all. He wonders in his head where you're going, and he watches the both of you disappear out the front door. Only a couple of minutes pass by before the both of you are coming back through the door, but this time Taj has a volleyball in his hands.

Aomine figures you both are going to play in the backyard, and he can't help but thin about how Taj interacts with you completely different than he interacts with him. He didn't even know he could talk that much, and this seems like the happiest he's ever seen him. It makes a sour taste form in Aomine's mouth, so he tries his best to brush it off and focus on the TV. Sadly, he isn't able to do it for long.

You've been babysitting Taj for about a month now, and you're glad that you haven't been seeing Aomine as much. The only time you do is when he comes back from practice or from games. You stay in the house until he comes home, and then you take your leave. You do it rather quickly so that he doesn't try to start up any conversations with you. Most of the nights you're lucky since he seems too tired to talk, but other nights, you have to try and dodge the small talk.

You don't really have anything you want to talk about with Aomine, and you know that it's just going to end up being awkward, so you'd rather just avoid it. Right now, you're sitting on the couch in the living room with the TV on, but you're mostly paying attention to your phone. Since it's Friday night, you let Taj stay up for a little bit longer since he doesn't have to get up early tomorrow.

Your body tenses for a split second when you hear the keys in the front door, but you quickly compose yourself before Aomine opens the door. He smiles tiredly when he sees you, and you give him a tight-lipped smile as you stand. You start to pack your stuff up, making sure you have everything when Aomine walks up to you.

"Hey, I just wanted to thank you for watching for Taj. I don't know how I can ever repay you." You chuckle a bit as you shake your head, shoving your hands in the back pockets of your jeans.

"Whaddya want, Aomine?" you sigh.

"What?"

"You always start with something like that when you're gonna ask me for something." He huffs a bit, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck.

"Okay, okay," he sighs. "I've got a tournament coming up, but it's out of the state. I'll be gone for about a week."

"So, you want to be go from babysitter to nanny?" you say, and you smile a bit when he starts to panic.

"You don't have to. I can try and find someone to watch him--"

"Aomine, chill. I'm just fucking with you," you laugh, and he relaxes as he smiles.

"Are you sure?"

You nod quickly. "Yes. I love watching Taj, and I can do my work remotely, so it all works out."

He sighs in relief. "Thank you so much. I owe you big time."

"Don't worry about it. I hope you guys do well."

"Thanks," he responds, and you can tell it's about to get awkward. "Is Taj already asleep?"

"I'm not sure. I let him stay up a little longer tonight since he doesn't have school tomorrow," you answer, and at that, you head towards his room with Aomine in tow. You softly knock on the door, stepping inside to see Taj asleep on the floor. You pout softly as you carefully walk over to him, and you try to pick him up without waking him.

He stirs as soon as you get him into your arms, and you stop moving, smiling when he looks at you. "Let's get you changed, okay?" you tell him quietly, and he nods sleepily, rubbing his eyes. He puts on his pajamas quickly before crawling into bed, and you tuck him before sitting next to him.

"Thanks for letting me stay up," he whispers.

"Of course, Taj."

"Are you leaving?"

"Yeah, I am," you say with a nod. "Sleep tight, okay? I'll see you soon." He nods, sitting up to give you a hug. You pull the blanket back up when he lays down, giving him a kiss on the forehead before you stand up and walk towards the door.

"Goodnight, Taj," Aomine says from the doorway, but he's already fallen back asleep. You turn the light off, slowly closing the door before you walk back downstairs. You grab your stuff, heading out of the door, and as per usual, Aomine walks you to your car.

"I'll, uh, see you later?"

"Yeah," you mumble. "Goodnight, Aomine," you say as you get into your car.

"Goodnight," he responds softly, standing in the driveway until you drive away and he can't see you anymore.

~

Aomine's tournament is in a couple of days, but he actually has to leave during the weekend since the games start on that Monday. Aomine gave you a key to his house once you started watching Taj, so you let yourself in, seeing Taj sitting on the couch. He smiles in surprise, jumping and running over to give you a hug before you can barely close the door.

"What are you doing here?" he asks excitedly.

"Your dad's got a tournament out of the state, so I'm gonna stay here with you. That sound good?"

"Yeah!" he exclaims as he quickly nods his head. "That means we can play volleyball!"

You laugh. "Yes, it does!" Aomine comes down the stairs with a duffel bag on his shoulder and a suitcase which he rolls it up by the door.

"Thank you again for doing this. I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome, Aomine."

Aomine takes his phone out of his pocket to check the time. "Okay, I gotta catch my flight. I'll see you later. See ya, Taj," he finishes, giving him a fist bump before he heads out of the door, locking it behind him.

"So, what do you wanna do first?" you say, turning to Taj. "Have you already eaten?"

"Yeah, I had cereal not too long ago," he answers. He says he wants to watch TV for now since cartoons are still playing, and you sit with him on the couch while you start to do some work. It's not much, but you want to get out of the way so that it's not over your head for the rest of the week.

Taj asks you about what you're doing soon after you start, and you spend most of your time explaining what you're doing as you do your work. The cartoons are soon forgotten as he keeps his focus on what you're doing. He helps you out on some of the work when he asks, and you're relieved when you're finally done, seeing that it didn't even take nearly as long as you thought it would.

You shut down your laptop, putting all of your work back in your bag, and you ask Taj if there's anything that he wants to do. He wants to play volleyball, so you go grab it out of the car before you walk with him out into the backyard. You always expect to be outside for a long time with kids, but it seems like Taj never wants to stop.

You were passing with him for a while until you got a bit tired, so you decided to sit down. He wanted to learn even more, so you spend the rest of the time teaching him the basics and the techniques of everything. You stay sitting down, tossing him the ball as you encourage him whenever he messes up.

You check your phone to see that it's already lunch time, and that's enough to convince Taj to quit for a while so you both can eat. You look in the fridge to see that there isn't a lot of food for you to cook, so you ask Taj if there's anything specific that he wants.

"Can we have pasta?" he asks as you close the fridge.

"Do you want any sauce?"

"The red kind, what's it called?"

"Marinara," you laugh as you answer. "We'll have to go to store for that if you're up for it?" He nods, running to his room to get his shoes. Aomine left his car seat, so you grab it, hooking it up in the car. Taj is quiet on the way to the store, and you periodically look at him in your rearview mirror, seeing that he's looking out the window.

He holds your hand when you get out of the car, and you let him push the basket around, keeping your hand on it so that he doesn't hit anything. Since you're going to be at the house for the week, you buy enough food to last the both of you. You let Taj pick out any snacks that he wants and any food that he wants to eat this week. When you head to the check out, he's happy to pack everything in the reusable bags that you brought, and you help him pack them while the person scans the items.

After you pay, you have to help Taj push the basket since it's heavier with all of the stuff you bought. You hand him the lighter things as you transfer all of the groceries to the car, and you let him put the cart back into the corral. You make the drive back to the house, and Taj helps you bring the groceries in before helping you put them all away.

He wants to help you make lunch, so you grab his step stool from the bathroom, setting in the kitchen. You let him put the pasta in the water once it boils, watching carefully to make sure he doesn't burn himself. There isn't much too do with pasta, but he seems excited nonetheless to be making it. You drain the pasta once it's done, and he makes his own plate, taking it to the table.

You pour him some juice before you take that and the sauce over to him. You make sure he doesn't pour too much sauce over his pasta before he hands it to you, and he talks your ear off as you both eat. You smile as you listen to him, only prompting him with questions whenever it seems like he's done talking about something.

When you're done eating, you decide to wash the dishes now so that they don't stack up, and Taj helps you with that as well. You try to tell him that he could go play or do something else, but he says that he wants to stay and help you. You find your way back to the couch after you're done with the dishes, and you can tell that he's getting a bit tired. He moves onto your lap as you turn on some volleyball, and he's asking you questions about it until you don't hear him say anything.

You look down to see that he's sleep, and you smile softly as you turn your attention back to the TV, making sure that he's comfortable. You feel your eyelids getting heavy, and you relax further against the couch, watching the TV until you finally fall asleep.

~

You've never had a week go by so fast. Aomine is supposed to be back in a couple of days, and you start to realize that you'll miss spending your days with Taj. Usually, you just pick him up from school and watch him for the night while Aomine is at practice. Or if he's training in the mornings, you take him to school, and watch him until Aomine gets back. You honestly don't know how Taj'll react when Aomine gets back, but you don't worry about that right now.

A bed is calling your name, and after putting Taj in bed, staying with him until he finally went to sleep, you went to the bathroom to hop in the shower, doing your night routine before getting in the bed. Once you get comfortable, it doesn't take you long to fall asleep, rolling over one last time before you finally do.

You suddenly hear something, and you think you're dreaming until you feel something shaking you. You gasp softly as your eyes open, seeing Taj standing in front of you. You sigh heavily as you sit up, blinking the sleep out of your eyes as you look at the clock, seeing that you've been sleep for a few hours.

"Taj? What's wrong?" you whisper, scooting closer to the edge of the bed, and you can see that it looks like he's been crying, the only light in the room the moonlight coming in from the window. "What happened?"

"I had a bad dream," he mumbles. "Can I stay with you?" You nod silently, moving over and pulling the blankets back so that he can slide into the bed next to you. You lay back down, and he immediately attaches himself to you and you rub over his head. You don't ask about it since it doesn't seem like he wants to talk about it, and you can hear him sniffle every now and then.

Aomine periodically checked in on you, making sure everything was going okay and once again thanking you for watching Taj on such short notice. Since they didn't do so well at the tournament, they were able to come back a little earlier than expected, but they had to take a late flight because of that, and he never got around to telling you that he was on his way back home.

When he walks into the house, as he expected, it's quiet. He sighs heavily as he takes his shoes off, slowly making his way up the stairs as he sets his bags in his room. He walks down the hallway to check on Taj, and he frowns when he sees that his door is open. He opens it a little more to see that it's empty, and he looks around, wondering where he could be. He's walking down the hallway again when he hears voices, and he stops in front of one of the guest rooms, seeing you and Taj laying down.

He's about to step inside to announce that he's home, but when his ears tune into the conversation, he doesn't move.

"You and my dad used to date?" Taj asks and you nod. "Why aren't you together now?" he follows.

"Because I liked your dad more than he liked me," you tell him honestly, but you leave it at that.

Aomine chews at his lip as your answer wafts through his ears. He knows you didn't say what you wanted to say.

Taj looks down at his hands as he messes with his fingers. "Sometimes I feel like my dad thinks about basketball more than me." And it takes everything in Aomine for him not to reveal himself right then and there.

"Taj," you start, "what makes you say that?"

He shrugs. "Well, I didn't spend much time with him growing up, and then suddenly I was. But it didn't feel like he really liked me being here."

"Taj, I can tell you right now that that is not true," you quickly reassure. "Your dad loves you," you state. "He just has a really weird way of showing it."

He shifts his eyes to you. "How do you know?"

"Well, I know that he hasn't been staying at practice late as much as he usually does," you answer. "I think he's doing that so he can spend more time with you." It doesn't look like it convinces Taj, and Aomine didn't think he could ever feel so shitty. "Taj, I think you should talk to your dad about how you feel," you offer when he doesn't respond. "You might not think he'll listen, but I'm confident that he will."

"Do you think it'll change anything?"

"You won't know if you don't try, but I think it will," you insist. "Is there anything you really want to ask him?"

Taj thinks about it for a bit. "If he's gonna at least be home for my birthday," he says. "I know that he can't help it if he has to play, but sometimes he doesn't even come home."

God, you wish there was something you could say to make Taj even the least bit happy. You pull him into a hug, and after a while, he wraps his arms around you. "I can be there with you to talk to him if that'll help. I'll even make sure he's there and doesn't bail out."

"Okay," he whispers into your shirt.

Aomine never says anything, slowly and quietly stepping away from the door as he makes his way to the bar in the open space down the hall.

Taj has fallen asleep again, and you slowly peel away from him, careful not to wake him, before you tiptoe out of the room with the intention of using the bathroom. You walk out into the hallway, the conversation you just had playing through your head. You see a light on down the hall when you walk out, and you frown as you carefully walk towards it. You peek around the corner to see Aomine sitting at the bar. His back is towards you, but it doesn't look like he's drinking anything, but his head is in his hands.

You sigh in relief since it's not a stranger, and you walk over to him. "When did you get back?" you ask, but he doesn't respond. "Aomine?" you whisper, stepping closer to him.

"Are you okay?" you try when he stays silent.

He turns to you suddenly which makes you jump back a bit, and the look in his eyes is something you've never seen. Not in Aomine's eyes. "You're not gonna tell me anything, are you?" he whispers, his voice cracking a little, and you can finally notice that his eyes are red. You could only tell when you got closer because the only light is coming from the lights under the bar.

"What are you talking about?" you ask, worry starting to bury itself in your chest.

"I heard your conversation with Taj earlier." Your chest rises with a silent gasp before you audibly let the breath out, your eyes falling shut in a long blink.

"Aomine--"

"I'm a piece of shit, aren't I?" You don't say anything and he scoffs bitterly, a weak laugh coming from him after. "I shouldn't be a fucking father. I shouldn't have the responsibility of a child." You're silent, truly at a loss for words. "Hell, the only reason why you're here now is because I fucking lost him in the damn store!" he laughs, looking back down at the bar, and you play with your fingers as your nerves start to react to your uneasiness. "And you can't even deny it."

"Aomine, it's not like everyone knows how to be a parent right out of the gate--"

"Don't make excuses for me," he interjects, his voice rising. "I had more than enough time to get my shit together, but even though Taj has been here for years, I just didn't wanna believe it. He doesn't deserve that." He looks at you again. "What have I done to him?" he asks you, the question quiet in the air.

"What do you mean?"

"He has to have habits or something because of my shitty parenting," he answers. "If you could even call it that." You don't want to respond because you know your answer will just make him spiral even more. But Aomine can tell by the look on your face that you have answers ready on your tongue. "Tell me," he quietly demands.

"Listen--"

"Don't try to go soft on me. Tell me." You sigh, running your hand down your face before you take a couple of steps closer to him.

"Look, I'm not a professional, but from what I've seen from other experiences in the past," you start, "he, uh, seems very independent for his age. He seems to be way more willing to do things like helping wash the dishes, getting the groceries, stuff like that...instead of going to play or something," you say. "I'm not saying that's unusual, but it seems like he'd rather do anything with me than anything by himself."

"What else?" he presses quickly, his eyes back on the wood, tapping his finger against it.

"When it comes to physical touch, he seems okay with hugging. But if it goes on longer than that, then he shies away from it." You look down at the floor, taking another heavy sigh before you continue. "Which could be because he's always been rejected by someone whom he wanted to be held by." You glance at Aomine without lifting your head, and he pulls his lips down as he nods.

"Keep going."

"This--"

"I need to hear it."

You can feel your heart start to sink, but you continue anyway. "Ever since I've been coming here, he's broken out of his shell." You start on a positive note, but Aomine knows it's about to take a horrible turn. "But if I stopped coming or if he has no promise that I'm coming back, it will definitely affect him...a ton."

Daiki laughs softly, rubbing his eyes as he continues. "I'm surprised he hasn't run away yet." You make the mistake of showing a reaction to his words, and he prying you to elaborate.

"The day at the store, he could've been trying to," you admit. "It's just a hunch, but that was the only time since I've met Taj that I've seen him on the verge of tears. I'm guessing he was standing in an aisle for who knows how long to see if you would notice." You don't know why you're still talking. "And when you didn't, he found me."

He huffs. "But he knows that he's a kid and that he probably won't get very far. He's also very aware of the dangers if he does run away."

"Poor kid," he muses. "He's got two parents that don't give a fuck about him."

"Aomine, that's not true--"

"He'd probably be better off with a different family," he counters suddenly, and you can feel your uneasiness morphing into irritating anger the more he cuts you off.

"Putting him in the system would only be worse for him," you state.

"Would it?" he questions with a heavy shrug, holding your gaze.

"Yes, he--"

"It would probably be better if I was somewhere far away from him--"

You're fuming. You step into his space before grabbing his face in your hand, turning his head to yours hard. "Shut. The. Fuck. Up." His eyebrows raise just a bit. "What do you want me to say, Aomine?! Yeah, you are a piece of shit father, you already know that!" you yell, making sure to keep your voice down since Taj is sleeping. "You're making fucking excuses! You need to grow the fuck up! Taj needs you now more than anything, and you're trying to send him off! Instead of being sorry, you need to be a damn father!"

Your voice still echoes in the quiet room even though it's just above a whisper. "You can fucking change, Aomine, but you're refusing to!" you scream. "You're right! Taj does deserve better than this! And stop putting yourself down so fucking much! That thinking is only going to transfer over in your parenting." Your fingers are starting to hurt from how hard your grip is on his face, but you're pissed. "You give a fuck about him, Aomine. My being here is proof of that. But you need to give a fuck about making the changes to being a better parent."

You let go of his face, but he doesn't move. "You need to get it together," you breathe. "Because this?" you say, pointing at him and moving your finger up and down. "Is pathetic." You turn around, not even giving him a second glance as you start toward the exit of the room. "When you find the Aomine I know, come find me."

You storm out of the room, and Aomine listens to your footsteps get quieter and quieter until he hears a door open and close. Your words are ringing loudly in his ears, and he softly runs his fingers over his face where yours were. His mind isn't even running, the only thing on replay are those words. He loses track of how much time he spent sitting on that bar stool, and he doesn't even get a full night's sleep.

The conversation keeps him up almost all night.

[joels-shitty-puns]

The Key To Your Heart - Track 6

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 4K

Series List: Here!

Miss last chapter? Here!

This one's a little longer than the last few, but it's one I was really excited to get to for a while. I hope you guys like it! We're starting to get into the nitty gritty! Once again please let me know what you think of it! Thank you all for your support :)

__________

After your emotional conversation with Pedro, you were worried he'd stop talking to you. At least, it seems that's how it usually works. Whenever you try to have a conversation about emotions with someone, it gets shut down. But surprisingly.. it didn't push Pedro away at all. The two of you talk nearly every day on the phone, and when you don't, it's made up for with plenty of text messages. You don't even have to be the first to communicate, either. It just feels natural. It doesn't need to be over-thought.

You keep telling yourself not to get your hopes up, but at the same time, you feel like maybe it's turning into something. Something more than friends. You couldn't help but wonder if Pedro felt the same way, or if maybe he's just a really nice guy.

Despite these feelings, you're still hesitant to tell him you love him. Although he put many of your fears to rest, you continued to be nervous. You were inexperienced. You were significantly younger than him. You led two very different lives. And even though he reassured you about your appearances, it doesn't mean you'd be his type once he actually saw you. Shoot, you don't even know if he's interested in pursuing a relationship.

Plus, now there's the risk of messing up a new friendship. Why ruin it?

How does anyone ever get into a relationship? Others make it look so easy, jumping from relationship to relationship like their heart isn't at stake.

Maybe someday you'd tell him. Maybe someday you'd share these other fears as well. But not yet. You weren't ready.

_____

About a week had gone by since you first talked on the phone, and it was around 1 PM when he called you.

"Hey Pedro!"

"Hey there, songbird," he replied cheerily.

"Songbird?" You giggled.

"If you hate it-"

"No, I love it. It's sweet," you blushed.

"Okay good. But the reason I'm calling is because I saw something on Instagram…"

"Oh yeah? What of?"

"About you. When were you going to tell me?"

Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh what? What is he referring to?

You nervously laughed "I… what? Tell you what now?"

"Your album is coming out in a WEEK!??!" He practically yelled with excitement.

Seriously… this guy. Giving me a damn heart attack.

"OH" you replied sheepishly. "You scared me, thinking you heard… I dunno"

"Oh! I'm sorry. No. I haven't heard any information that you haven't told me yourself, nor would I believe it anyway. Other than.. this album!!!" Pedro announced like a gameshow host.

You laughed before replying "yes, yes, the album comes out next week! They just announced it I guess."

Pedro clapped and shouted. "CONGRATULATIONS!!!! I'm so happy and proud of you!!!!!!!!"

You weren't looking in a mirror, and he couldn't see you either, but you could bet money that your cheeks were a bright shade of pink. "Thank you, Pedro!" You giggled, your face beginning to hurt from the large smile he caused.

"How are you celebrating? Is the studio doing anything for you?"

"Well they mentioned an album release party, but being that nobody really knows me I don't know who I would even invite. Plus I'm not sure that a large thing like that is how I'd like to show myself to the world. A little too ceremonious for my liking." You grimaced.

"Well, I happen to think you deserve something ceremonious, even if you don't think you do. And I think we should celebrate."

"We - you - you do? You mean…?" You stuttered in disbelief.

"You and me," he said matter-of-factly.

"You.. and… What did you have in mind?" 

Frankly you didn't know what to think.

"Well. I was thinking… Maybe we could listen to the album together? We could talk on the phone and listen, and it would be like our own little album release party. You wouldn't have to show yourself or meet people. It would just be like our normal conversations. Except I'd get to hear your new music and talk about it with you. If you want," he said, sounding slightly nervous.

Your heart swelled at the gesture and you agreed happily. The two of you made a plan to "meet" at 7PM and listen together the night of your album release. And he promised he wouldn't listen without you.

_____

It wasn't until after you were off the phone with him that you began to overthink the songs on your album. Not unlike your first single, these were also rather vulnerable at times. Sure, he knew a lot, and he'd listen to the album anyway. Probably. But still. To hear it… together? You were starting to feel like you were in over your head.

Nevertheless, the week continued on like normal. Work, talking to Pedro, hanging with Skipper. You agreed to a few more interviews in article or voice format after the release, and signed a few last minute things.

As the album date approached closer, Pedro texted you one day.

"Okay I'm going to ask you something and I want you to trust me okay. I'm not going to do anything that I know you would hate."

"Okay…" what does this man have up his sleeve?

"Can I have your address?"

Why does he want my address???? The panic settled in. But, you did like him; and he hadn't crossed any boundaries yet. In fact, he's been one of the most understanding of your qualms.

So. You sent him your address.

"Thank you ❤️" Pedro replied.

A heart !?! A red one!? 

"You're welcome. Also… I was planning to tell you anyway, but if you're looking for my address I may as well tell you…" you told him your real name. Not your stage name. Not a nickname. But your name. First, Last. All of it.

"Thank you for trusting me. I promise I'll keep it safe," reassured Pedro.

"Thank you, P."

"Of course. You have a beautiful name, by the way."

Your heart did a somersault.

_____

The album release date was finally here and you aren't sure you slept a wink. You were a bundle of nerves and excitement. You loved him and always enjoyed chatting together. This was exciting. But also these songs are so personal. This is a big moment. This was a big plan. And why did he want your address anyway?

~~~~~

Meanwhile at Pedro's place, he was just as nervous. He had started out excited, but then he got into his head. His plans for the evening started feeling too romantic. He didn't want you to get the wrong idea. He liked you, but he didn't want to push it. Maybe he was showing too many feelings towards you. You love someone else, and him not respecting that is rude. All you want is a friend and he's just going to seem like another one of those creepy guys trying to get into your pants.

But it was too late now, the plans were in motion, and maybe you'd enjoy it. Who knows. Either way, he loved your friendship, and friends could do this kind of thing for each other… right??

~~~~~

Throughout the day, you paced your house before finally leaving with Skipper in tow. "We gotta get some air, buddy. I'm losing it over here," you said while clipping his leash.

Stepping out of the house, you two went for a long walk, circled back toward home, and plopped down on your lawn. The house still felt too small in preparation for this evening, whatever it was. Why does it feel different anyway? It's just another phone call..? Unless….

Truth be told, while Pedro had his secret plans, you also had some of your own. Whether you followed through with them or not was up to your nerves.

After some sunbathing with your pup, you both head inside. The sun was starting to set, and you realized it was getting closer to the meetup time you chose with Pedro.

_____

6 PM.

You stared at the TV, not really absorbing anything on the screen, but needing a distraction. This afternoon you opted for a show that Pedro was not in. For once, you needed to not see his handsome face. You needed something else. Half paying attention while picking at a hangnail, you jump out of your skin at the sight of your phone lighting up. Pedro texted.

"Picking out my outfit for tonight! Always important to look nice for celebration."

Shit… he's not coming over is he?! That's why he wanted my address?!

"Wait…" you pondered how to phrase your question without sounding like a panicked asshole, when all you wanted to say was "what the fuck do you MEAN!?!"

I'm not dressed. I'm in sweats and covered in dog hair. I don't have makeup on. Oh no.

"Wait… is that why you wanted my address?"

"Oh. Nooo, no no. No, sweet girl, don't worry. I'm not coming over unexpectedly and interrupting your hiding place. I just think it's still important to dress nice."

"Oh..Okay.."

It was around 6:15 when he texted a picture of himself wearing a white button up with a dark blue suit and matching tie. He wore dark-frame glasses and his hair was slightly tamed, but still showed his messy curls. He looked gorgeous.

But as you scanned his body you noticed that instead of dress shoes, he wore a pair of polka dot socks. He had a goofy grin and his one eyebrow was cocked. You grinned.

"All dressed up and nowhere to go," he said.

"You're a goof, P. But I appreciate the effort."

A pause.

"Also, you look really handsome" you nervously hit send before you had a chance to chicken out.

Bold. Probably shouldn't have said that. But hey, friends compliment each other.

"Why thank you. A big accomplishment like this requires all the stops."

He timed this message right to the minute. As you read his text, your doorbell rang.

You opened the door to find two boxes. One large, one small. A delivery boy was getting into his car. 

"Delivery from your biggest fan. 

-❤️, P"

He… he sent me some kind of care package?? And put a heart? And said he's my biggest fan?

You squealed and carried the boxes into the house. "What's this!?" You texted Pedro.

"Open them and see!"

You immediately open them. Inside the larger box was a variety of items. The first thing you noticed was a small vase holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. To the right of that was a bag, which you opened and found your favorite meal, from your favorite restaurant. 

Wow, this is elaborate. 

Below the food was another small bag holding your favorite dessert, and finally to the left, your favorite drink.

I can't believe he remembered all of my favorite things.. This is so thoughtful.

When you moved the flower vase, you noticed one more small item. Is that a… corsage?? You texted Pedro the question.

"Yep!" He sent, with a photo of a matching flower on his lapel.

Remembering you still had the small box, you opened the box flaps, wondering what could possibly be left for him to give you. On top of it was another note.

"For a handsome boy.

- ❤️, your mom's friend, Pedro"

Under the note was a jar of peanut butter, a squeaky anchor toy, and…? What's this?

You unwrap a small paper wrapping to find a dog-sized black bowtie. Shut up.

"SKIPPER!!! Look what Pedro gave you, buddy!"

He padded over to you and let you hook the dressy accessory around his neck. With the clip adjusted, he sat back, looking proud of his new fashion. You quickly snapped a picture and texted it to Pedro.

"I can't believe you did all this, Pedro. Not only did you send all this, but you remembered my favorite things? You remembered all the details from when I first met Skipper. My favorite food, dessert, drink, and flower? That's so sweet, this is all too much Pedro..  Nobody has ever done anything like this for me. I.. I don't even know what to say."

You're amazing and I love you. Is what I want to say.

"You're welcome." He texted back. "Like I said, you deserve a celebration. Plus…"

Pedro sent a photo of his table, set up with the same food and drink, with the caption "now it's like we're having a dinner party."

It was nearing the time to meet, but you still had to do one more thing. You had pondered it earlier in the day, but fully decided it when Pedro sent the photo of himself dressed up. It's now or never.

_____

6:45 PM.

Pedro sat waiting for a reply after he sent his dinner photo. It had only been a couple minutes, but his hands were sweaty and his leg was shaking under the table. Finally, his phone went off. You sent… a video?

He opened it and pressed play. There, he saw you rotating your wrist with the corsage on it. The first time he's ever seen your wrist, hand, or arm before. The first time he's even seen your skin tone.

Geez you act like you're in the Victorian ages, pull yourself together, he rolled his eyes at himself for being so overjoyed.

Next, the video panned to Skipper in his bowtie, looking handsome as ever. The camera zoomed in on him and he looked up into the view with his big brown eyes. 

And then…

The camera panned to the side, and showed a mirror. A full length mirror, where you stood. He scanned your body from your perfectly done up hair and makeup, down your body to your dress. You wore your favorite dress, (in your favorite color, he noted) which showed off your body in the best ways. He looked down to the floor and noticed that you too were wearing fun socks instead of shoes. You wore a pair of striped socks and wrote in your caption "all dressed up and nowhere to go."

His heart picked up and he could feel himself breathing unevenly. He finally saw you. And you were gorgeous. He couldn't help the smile that enveloped his face.

Fuck. She's beautiful… I'm screwed. 

She loves someone else. She loves someone else. She loves someone else. Forget your feelings.

Despite his struggle, he knew he wanted, and needed, to tell you how beautiful he thought you looked. This was a big step to show yourself, and he also knew how self-conscious you felt about your body.

"Wow, you're so beautiful."

You blushed, replying with a quick thank you with a heart, then sending a second message asking if he was ready to listen. The video wasn't the only trick you had planned up your sleeve tonight.

______

The clock turned to 7 PM and Pedro hit the dial for your number. You answered the phone and said a quick "hang on" to set up the shared listening party link for your album. Once sent, you took a deep breath and steadied your nerves. Then, you took the plunge.

"Okay I got the link! I'm so exci - what - wait, is this an accident?" Pedro's hand fumbled as he received your incoming video chat request, his heart picking up to a galloping pace.

"Nope! You can answer it. If you want.."

He quickly swiped the accept button and there you were. Clad in your favorite dress, sitting at a table with the meal he sent in front of you. He could see himself in the corner square, dressed in his suit, with nearly the identical table setup and food.

He couldn't help but notice on his own video screen that his cheeks were turning rosy and his mouth curled into a large smile. But he was too happy to be shy about his blush.

"So this is you," he said.

"This is me," you replied shyly, but still with a huge smile and blush plastered on your face, matching Pedro's.

"You look.." he sighed shakily "..wow.."

"You look pretty wow yourself there," you said with a shy giggle.

Both of you let out gentle laughs, feeling a warm glow as your stomachs felt matching butterflies of nerves, excitement, and… maybe something else.

"So should we listen, I guess?" You asked nervously.

He didn't answer. He was looking at the screen, eyes scanning the video. 

Is he blushing? You wondered. But why would he be? He doesn't like me back… right?

He still hadn't answered you when you finally said "Pedro?? Did you hear me?"

He snapped out of it, somehow turning more crimson. "Oh! Sorry… yeah! Let's listen."

Your nerves were off the charts. Some of these songs were so vulnerable. The ones at the end of the album were the most telling of all.

But as the two of you ate your dinners while listening to your new album, you began to relax. The night was filled with him giving praise and you giving background information on the meanings and production of the songs. 

"Are all the different instruments and harmonies played by you?"

"They are! The studio offered studio musicians but I had originally played them all when I wrote it and wanted to keep it a one woman show."

"You're incredible," Pedro said, shaking his head.

You blushed, for the billionth time today.

When it came to "Imaginary Love" Pedro grinned. "Hey I know this one! The one that started it all." 

"Yep!" You agreed and he began lip syncing to the lyrics dramatically. Little did he know, those lyrics were actually about him. You giggled as he acted out a soulful rendition of the chorus.

"You know, this whole journey has been a real rollercoaster and there have been times I've wished I hadn't posted that song..."

Pedro looked at you with that puppy dog look of his and you continued "but then I remember… that if I never posted it, I would've never started talking to you, and it makes it all worth it."

Pedro placed his hand on his heart and pouted his lip. "I agree. I'm glad to have met you. If I didn't love this song already, that alone would be enough reason for me to consider it one of my favorites.

You grinned and looked down at the table, suddenly feeling shy. The two of you continued to listen, having long finished your dinner. Conversation flowed easily, and you couldn't help but feel like you were on a date. Not that you had much experience with that, but from what you'd seen in movies and shows, this felt very date-like. And you didn't want it to end.

But as the album went on, you approached the last two songs. The ones you were scared of most. The most vulnerable of the album. 

The second to last began to play.

'It's hard to imagine craving something that I've never had.

Dumb to be so desperate for something I've gone without.

But when I'm alone and thinking to myself, I need it so bad.

I crave it like a drug, but one I know nothing about.

Your kiss on my lips, or any kiss at all.

It hasn't happened yet, no matter how hard I fall.

The years keep passing, but still no love.

The years go by, but still no kisses.

I keep wondering and praying up above,

I guess I'm unkissable, despite my wishes.'

Pedro furrowed his brow, looking at you, searching for something. He read the title of the song, "Unkissable," and looked up again, opening and closing his mouth to find the right words.

"Do-" he stopped himself and pondered his wording again. "Is- are all these songs true?"

You stared at the table, picking your nail against the wood. "Yes."

"You really believe that?"

"... I mean… I don't know… maybe… I guess…" you avoided his gaze, but could feel it.

"And you've never-"

"Kissed anyone before? No. I haven't."

"But you've wanted to?"

"Yes," you whispered, starting to feel tears prick at your eyes.

Pedro shifted his lips to the side in thought before finally saying "well… you're still young. It'll happen."

"I'm 26, Pedro. Most people have kissed by the time they've graduated high school. I just… missed the boat I guess. It's okay. I'm just being silly. I don't want it that bad. We can maybe listen to something else now."

"Hey, hey. Don't shut down on me," he asked pleadingly. "26 is still very young, and don't worry about whenever everyone else has done things. Everyone does things at their own pace. I'm sorry you haven't experienced it yet, especially when you want it so badly, but I know that when it does happen, it'll probably be better than any kiss you would've had with some 15 year old boy you would've had in high school."

You laughed, breaking your tears for a minute. "Thanks Pedro."

"Of course. And hey, don't think of yourself as unkissable. Any guy should be so lucky to be with you. Maybe the guy you wrote about in your song will be your first."

"Maybe… I hope so. Thank you."

While your heart bloomed at the kind words and prospect of maybe kissing Pedro in the future, Pedro's heart began to ache. Not only was he sad for you when you wanted love so desperately, but he also couldn't help but feel sad hearing you want to kiss another man. He wants to be that guy for you. He wasn't joking when he said any man would be lucky. But especially knowing now your true age, 22 years younger than him, he knew for sure your crush couldn't be him. You were way too young to be interested in a 48 year old man. He was silly for even entertaining the idea.

But at least he had a new friend. And as he thought longer, he thought about his best friend Sarah, and her relationship. They have a huge age gap, 32 years, but they're happy. And he's happy for her. It doesn't feel weird with them. Could he have that with you? Or is he in over his head?

The last song on the album began to play. This one was less vulnerable, but if he decided to look at the lyrics and notice patterns, he'd see it in the chorus. 

'People have a lot to say

Everyone loves or hates me

Don't know what I did today

Right now you're all I can see

Only want to be with you.

Please, love me too.'

You're sure the obsessive listeners will figure out the acrostic, and if Pedro looks up the lyrics, he might too. But either way, it's out there. All you can do is hope for the best and eventually you're sure it'll come out anyway.

 This wasn't one you were sure about putting on the album, but when the studio read through your personal songbook, they went insane over it. They figured it out quickly, and they promised they'd keep it to themselves. Luckily they have so far, but if money came calling, you think they'd sell your heart faster than you could say no.

The song, and album, came to a close and Pedro looked up at the screen once again, staring into your eyes. "Once again your music has blown me away."

Whether he put together the end or not, he wasn't letting on.

"Thank you Pedro. I really appreciate it. And thank you for tonight. It was truly special and I mean it when I say it's the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me. You didn't have to go through all that trouble," you said thoughtfully.

"It was no trouble. You deserve congratulations for your album," Pedro replied with a smile.

Right.. it's just a congratulations. Nothing else. You sighed.

"Thank you. I'm really glad we did this. Talk again soon?" You asked.

"Absolutely. It was wonderful to meet you finally," Pedro said, finishing the sentence with your real name and smiling.

"It was great to meet you too, Pedro."

__________

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you for reading.

Looking for more? Next chapter!

Taglist: (Want in? Let me know!)

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson @cartoon-garbage04 @tyferbebe @maryfanson @gwendibleywrites @faithfullyyours2000 @brilliantopposite187 @hc-geralt-23 @jenniferpendragon @winchestergypsy90 @red-red-rogue @theendwhereibegin @lottieellz101 @oliversaurus @kyga01 @milly-louise @titabel @taz-97

[justanamesstuff]

The intimacy of being understood

Chapter 1

Matty Healy x f!reader

A/N: I'm so excited and SO terrified about posting this fic. I've fallen for this concept since the first moment I thought about it, I've been having so many feelings writing this sooooo I really hope you guys like it! Let me know what you think, feedback is ALWAYS welcomed!! Happy reading, guys :))

Warnings: breakups, fame, hurt feelings, typos.

Word count: 2 k

Blog Masterlist Series Masterlist

After a quick lunch, eaten at the back surrounded by boxes full of books ready to be sorted out, Kate stumbled in. She was Y/n's friend since kindergarten: one day she pushed some kid –Y/n didn’t remember him– who made her cried and Kate pushed him out of a little chair. Small Kate turned around, offering her tiny hand, and Y/n stopped crying. Nothing came between them since, maintaining a very strong friendship. 

Kate didn’t work at the bookshop with Y/n, she didn’t have the money to pay someone else to help her. She did good money enough to maintain the place and rent a small flat not far away from the shop. Even though, Kate constantly showed up wanting to spend time with her, sharing the latest gossip of her office or ramble about one of her ex-girlfriends she bumped into while helping her with the books.

“She looked amazing- Holly fuck!” Kate’s tone drifted from a normal one to a gasped whisper, interrupting herself. 

Y/n looked firstly to the front door, leaving the spreadsheet on the counter; checking if someone was happening outside. She couldn’t see anything through the window. 

She decided to ask Kate, “What?” 

“Look.” it was very rare hearing Kate whisper, she was all out, a true extrovert. Her friend’s finger pointed to the other side from the door.

Y/n turned her head, still hearing the sound of the angel caller she hanged in the entrance as a bell for when a new customer entered the shop. Her eyes finally fell on a very familiar man. 

“I’m looking, but I don’t see anything weird.” Y/n copied her tone, looking how Matty roamed through the different categories. She felt strange about him not greeting her as usual. Y/n reassured herself, ‘it must be a reason’. Her eyer returned to Kate.

“Shhh.” Kate startled her best friend with the sound when nothing really happened. Y/n glanced at her as if a new eye showed up in the middle of her forehead. 

“What’s wrong with you today?” Y/n inquired. “Sorry, but I’m not following you.” she sentenced.

Kate checked Matty was turned to point a finger in his direction. “That one…” she turned her head like a mad woman. “That’s Matty Healy!” Y/n’s friend said with a hissing voice.

Y/n was so confused, “Do you know him?” maybe he was a coworker, that happened many times before. 

“Oh my god!” Kate let his arm fell, rubbing her face dramatically. “I forget how out of this world you are.” she glanced towards the floor as if she was trying to look for answers.

“Still not having a clue over this.” Y/n let eyes returned to the paper work she needed to get done.

“Matty Healy doesn’t ring a bell inside this mind of yours?” Kate tapped her left temple. 

Y/n brushed her off, trying to think about it, even when the full name didn’t bring a bell. 

“Name plus surname no. Matty comes here all the time.” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

Kate stared, trying to decide if she was messing with her or not. “You’re full of shit.”

“No, I’m not. He’s really nice.” Y/n turned the page, writing numbers here and there. 

Matty was indeed a very regular, he had been for more than a month by that moment. Y/n fell quickly into conversations with him when he dropped by. She didn’t give the casual friendship too much thought until that moment.

“Oh, really?” Kate folded her arms, smirking with Y/n’s words. “How nice?”

Y/n couldn’t believe what she was implying, so her sight flew to her friend's face, being the one to search signals that told her she was kidding. Kate wasn’t, she really wanted to know.

“No like that!” the bookshop owner moved forward and beyond Kate’s body to check he wasn’t hearing their conversation. Y/n sighed loud watching him so far from them. 

“Mmm…don’t believe you.” Kate kept pushing her to talk, only gaining a red tint showing on Y/n’s cheeks.

“He started coming here like a few months ago. He looked stressed as fuck…he excused himself saying someone was following him, I’d thought he was talking about a mugger not- whatever he has…fans? I don’t even know.“ Y/n explained.

Kate nodded. “Crazy fans.”

“Well, he stayed a lot over the back of the shop and after- I don’t remember how long… he came back carrying a children's book. I think it was ‘The very hungry caterpillar’, and I got excited over it.” Y/n tried to avoid her friend’s eyes at all cost.

“Of course…” Kate’s voice full of irony. 

“He was buying it for his godson and since then he started showing up here and there…he never explained what he does for a living, I don’t even care.” Y/n admitted.

Kate let her hands fell on top of her chest. “Such a cute story”

“I can’t believe he’s famous.” 

“Yeah, you live under a rock.”

“No, I live inside the real world.”

“Liar.” Kate accused her. “You have your nose inside a book every time I open that door.” she pointed to the front door. 

Y/n gasped and turned, saying, “Aren’t you supposed to help me arrange the new saga?” 

Kate groaned loud. Y/n felt Matty looking their way, but didn’t dare to make eye contact. 

“Why I offered my free time again?” her friend asked.

“You own me! Remember how I had to pick your ass at 4 am at that Soho party you chose to tried to get in and got kicked out?” Y/n felt good teasing her back for once. 

“Thanks for reminding me that.” Kate eyes’ returned to Matty, who moved to sit at the big sofas adoring the centre of the shop. “I’ll go to the back. Shout when he comes over here.” she begged.

Y/n boobed her head up and down in a dramatic way, pursing her lips at the same time. 

“Mhm, definitely going to do that. Be sure I’ll do exactly that.” Y/n spoke to Kate’s back walking away. 

“I need to see if he’s really handsome indeed.” she whispered from the door leading to the storage room. 

“He is.” Y/n added just to mock her.

“Agh, you’re so mean!”

“Work, now!”

Y/n waited until Grace was far away to focus on Matty. He was still sitting on the sofa, now with a book on his lap but looking at the ceiling. She decided it was a good moment to approach him.

“Hey.” 

Matty got startled a little, too deep into his thoughts to acknowledge the sound of her feet approaching him.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to…” Y/n felt sorry to scare him.

A big smile showed up in his face, changing all his demeanour. “Hey there. Don’t worry.”

“I couldn’t stop to notice- I mean, maybe you want a moment of quiet, and I’m disturbing you but…sorry.” Y/n grew self-conscious under his attentive eyes. “What I’m trying to ask is, are you alright?” 

Matty felt his heart skip a bit, “You’re the first person to ask me today.”

Y/n frowned, checking her clock. “It’s 3 pm.” she stated.

“I know.”

“So I assume this is not your best day.”

“Not at all.” he said, still smiling, contradicting his own words somehow.

 Y/n decided to change the subject.“What book you chose?” she pointed to the book resting unread. 

“Everything quiet at the front.” Matty read the title. 

“Uplifting I see..” she joked, and Matty laughed. The sound reached her ears and warmed her heart. 

“‘m sorry I didn’t say hello earlier.” Matty apologized. “Didn’t want to interrupt your conversation with the other girl.” his hand pointed towards the front desk.

“She’s my best friend and personal nightmare…Kate.” 

“Where’s she now?”

“At the back, she owns me a few favors so…”

“Mhm.”

“Well, I’m going to stop bothering-“ Y/n started excusing herself.

Matty interrupted, clarifying, “You never bother me, Y/n.” Her name coming from his lips felt different. 

“Good to know.” her cheeks were burning. Y/n turned around towards her desk but desist in the middle of the action. “Can I suggest you changing the book?” she asked, looking inside her tired eyes.

Matty gave her a signal, adding, “Which one you say is better?” 

“It’s a play in fact…’The Seagull’ by Chéjov. It’s also sad but easier to read, I think.” 

“Interesting.” Y/n felt maybe she should’ve kept her mouth shut. “I have to go now, sadly, but I’ll be back soon to read it.” Matty told her.

“I can pack it for you. Have one over he-“ Y/n’s mood lifted a little with the last part, proposing packeting it for him, although she interrupted her again. 

“No, I prefer reading it here the next time I come.” 

“Okay, suit yourself, Matty.” Y/n looked down, not really knowing what to do now. 

“I’ll see you soon, thanks. Say hi to Kate for me.” Matty scratched the back of his head. 

“Oh, that nice…for sure, I’m going to retransmit that.”

“Bye.” Matty lift his hand, waving at her from a few meters far from her.

Y/n followed his form, walked towards the door, and once outside get lost between the people coming and going. 

Kate showed up from behind the storage door, smiling wide at her friend. 

“If I wasn’t so stoked about one of my favourite singer of all times knowing… remotely… who I am, I’ll say that man is sad but down bad for the library girl.” she wiggled her eyebrows. 

“Stop bluffing and celebrate a little.” Y/n tried to distract Kate. 

“Y/n…”

“I don’t want to hear it!”

They had that conversations for months, almost a fucking year, and Y/n knew it as if was a play she wrote. Kate would insist about her dating again, she would say she’s not ready –which was the truth– and her best friend would be sympathetic about it even though she would keep insisting. 

“I saw pictures of that man in love…I know, a bit, how he is.” Kate tried to persuade Y/n. 

“Kate, you really don’t know him. I don’t know him far from Matty, the guy that comes here from time to time.”

“Do you want to know more about him?” she took her phone out.

“No.I don’t. I respect his privacy.” Y/n was pushing her away, closing herself. Both friends knew that. 

“You can’t wound me with this.”

“Fine.”

“Come on! Forget he's fucking famous…he's fucking hot, and he wants you-“ 

Y/n closed her eyes tight, “You don’t-“

“He does. I feel it.”

“Why you have to sexualize this?”

“Because it what he exudes, my love.” Kate placed herself at the other side of the front desk, where Y/n was trying to look busy with books and papers. 

“I don’t want to hear anything else, okay?” Y/n stared at her eyes briefly. 

“Y/n…I know that what you’ve been through is a lot to recover your heart from, but you know he’d want-“ the mention of his wishes angered Y/n, who pushed a book down with too much force. 

“No, I don’t. He never spoked about it because we were meant to spend the rest of our lives together, and then…” Y/n felt tears pooling in the corner of her eyes.

“Oh, my love…” Kate ran around the counter. “Come here.” she hugged her friend. “I’m here, I’m here. I’m sorry.”

“I can’t do it.” Y/n said into her shoulder.

“Okay, okay. I understand. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s too soon.”

“Mmm…it’s never too soon to have a new, famous and hot friend.” Kate tried to lift her mood.

Y/n snorted, “He’s hot.” there was no reason to deny it. 

“Right?! That’s a start! Baby steps…come on, girl! You can do this.” Kate took Y/n’s face between her hands, staring into her red eyes.

“Let’s get back to work, please.”

“Would you take me as an employee if I quit my job?”

Y/n titled her head, “You love your job.”

“But I’d love to see Matty's butt flying around.” 

“Could you stop sexualizing my customers, please?”

“No when they’re Matty fucking Healy!” she shouted while returning to the back.

*****************

Taglist (let me know if you want to be included): @indierockgirrl

[theteasetwrites]

Merciless Beauty

Chapter 1: Your Eyes Slay Me Suddenly

❧ Pairing: Knight Daryl Dixon x Princess Reader ❧ Era: Medieval fantasy AU ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mentions of blood/gore and violence ❧ Word Count: 5.3k

❧ Before You Read...

❧ Glossary

❧ In This Chapter: Duke Richard of House Grimes and his knight, Sir Daryl, arrive at King Ezekiel's court, though they do not know why they've been invited. Meanwhile, things are not well in the kingdom of Alexandria as a new threat begins to terrorize its citizens. Despite this, the princess dreams of seeing the world outside the castle walls by which she is imprisoned. She meets someone who she thinks might be able to help.

❧ A/N: Well, here it is. The first part of this weird ass thing I'm writing. I realize that this is super cringey but do I care? Well, a little, but you know what, I am having so much fun writing this and learning about medieval stuff so I am happy with it. I will link a "Before You Read..." page so that you guys can get a little more background info about what I'm trying to do here. I know this is kind of a weird AU and stuff so I have some disclaimers in that link. I've also included a link to the Merciless Beauty Glossary, which lists definitions for some of the terminology I will be using throughout the series. I recommend having that document open as you read as you can use it to quickly refer to in case you come across a word you are not familiar with.

Beyond gentle slopes of overgrown emerald pastures rose tall, imposing battlements of limestone, with tiny silhouettes of guards poking out of each crenel. From this distance, they looked hardly menacing, but the king’s guards were diligent, and their prowess in battle was not to be underestimated. 

The duke raised the blue flag of Alexandria, signaling to the guards that they were no threat. In response, a guard reached over the wall to wave the same flag.

“They see us,” remarked the duke, pulling on the reins of his golden horse. “Here.” He handed back the worn piece of cerulean fabric to the knight who rode by his side. “Strange customs, but I don’t blame them.”

They moved upon their horses in a dignified trot, the knight’s ebony friesian stallion trained to mirror the movements of the steward’s palomino steed. 

“They should be afraid,” said the knight. “The world is a dangerous place. Can’t believe they’ve held out this long.”

The duke flashed him a knowing look, that almost seemed to curl into an amused crack of the lips. “Sir Daryl,” he said, “I’ve always admired your optimism.”

The knight adjusted his feet in the heavy iron stirrups. He’d never quite get used to his lord’s jests. “Sorry,” he spoke simply. A man of few words, Richard always said. 

“It’s all right, but you’d be advised to put on a cheerful face for the king. Joviality goes a long way with his type.”

“His type?”

“Unlike you, my friend, King Ezekiel is known for his… good humor.”

Daryl scoffed from the corner of his crooked smirk. “Thanks… What does the king want with you, anyway?”

Richard’s brows knit together in another amused expression of faux offense. “You think I’m not able to acquire a king’s favor? Careful, knight, you’re a free man now, but you could be downgraded to villein if necessary.”

Of course, the serious knight knew that such a threat was meant in good humor. Ten years of loyal servitude to the duke was more than enough reassurance. 

The men continued onward, their horses plodding through moors that seemed to stretch on forever. The castle couldn’t come closer for Sir Daryl. He was dreading it, the pomp and circumstance of it all. But then, he knew that when he became a knight. It wasn’t the typical story, in fact. He wasn’t of any kind of good birth, his parents being poor and rather unsuccessful merchants in some other kingdom he’d purposefully forgotten the name of. 

No, he wasn’t a nobleman’s son or a squire. He’d earned his title almost reluctantly, through his triumphs and battle prowess in the First War. That is, the war that preceded the Scourge. 

A knight’s duty was to protect a lord, of course. He’d managed a position as the protector of Duke Richard’s land, just outside of Alexandria. In exchange for his protection, the knight had a place to live, and not a bad place at all. It was better than any decrepit wooden shack he’d lived in before, and, as far as nobility went, the duke was not a bad man. In fact, he was a good man, and that was hard to come by in times like these. 

“But it’s odd,” Richard continued, “I don’t know what the king wants with me. I know he wants me to join his court, but I’ve heard he hasn’t invited anyone to court in ten years, since it broke out.” It, of course, was always understood as a reference to the plague that killed ordinary men with a gruesome fever, then brought them back as snarling, rotting walking dead men that feasted on the flesh of those who were unlucky enough to still be alive. 

No one knew where it came from, but many thought the curse was nothing short of the wrath of God Himself. It was the only explanation in a world completely devoid of comfort. Though the idea that a supposedly benevolent god bestowing such a pestilence upon his so-called beloved children was hardly comforting. In these times, people took what they could get. 

“Maybe he just wants your wonderful company,” Daryl replied, sure to speak with a sarcastic lilt to his gruff voice. 

“No, no,” Richard said. “It doesn’t make sense. Ezekiel and I have only spoken a few times… You know, there’s a princess.”

Oh, yes, everyone knew of the princess, of course, though no one had seen her in years. The gatehouse of that castle hadn’t opened in ten years. No one had come in, and no one had gone out. Until now, of course. 

“There’s always a princess,” Daryl huffed. “What does that have to do with anythin’?”

“Well, she’s got to be a woman now… I’m sure the king is looking to wed her to someone.”

Daryl flashed a suspicious glance at the curly-haired man, who returned the look with a steady shake of his head. 

“You think he wants you to court her?”

“I don’t know, but if what they say is true, the princess is the most beautiful woman in Alexandria. Some say beyond Alexandria, too.”

It was odd for a man of Richard’s age and status to be unmarried. His wife had died six years ago in childbirth, along with the child. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, but it was a great tragedy in the duke’s life. The knight couldn’t see him remarrying at all after that, but if the king was going to offer his daughter to him, he would be a fool not to accept. 

“Women with that kind of beauty are hard to come by,” continued Richard. “And royal, too. Hell, the princess is the king’s only child. That means… I could become king when he dies.”

“Gettin’ ahead of yourself,” chided Daryl. “We’re not even at the gatehouse yet.”

“Welcome, my friends!”

The king extended his arms wide, about as wide as the grin upon his countenance. He crossed the great hall, the steps of his pointed poulaines echoing off the grand high ceilings. The king’s hand clasped jovially upon the duke’s shoulder, but the gesture quickly turned into a hearty embrace. 

“It’s good to see you,” said the king. “It’s been too long, Richard.”

“It has.” 

The duke raised his eyes to gaze upon the magnificence of the hall. Though the exterior of the castle may have appeared quite imposing, the great hall was warm, welcoming, even. Elaborate arrangements of strong wooden arches upheld the roof, complete with intricately designed corbels to support them. Draped from the high stone walls were long blue banners bearing the royal family’s crest, no doubt made from the finest threads. Tapestries depicting mythical creatures and romantic scenes of knights going to battle or courting ladies were on full display, too. The hall was illuminated by the gilded light of what seemed to be a hundred or so candles, some upon sconces, others upon tables and in iron chain chandeliers. The pungent aroma of honey and elderflower tickled at the uninitiated noses of the two travelers, and, sure enough, in the king’s hand was a fine pewter goblet, which no doubt must’ve been brimming with a particularly pungent, sweet smelling mead.

“Come!” exclaimed the king. “Have a drink! This is cause for celebration.”

The loud bravado in the king’s voice must’ve alerted the court as finely dressed nobles began to pour in from the arches and the upstairs landing. As the duke and his knight followed the king to his banquet table, just in front of his imposing bronze throne, the court gathered in greater globs. Murmurs began to permeate the great hall, and the knight could just feel an army of eyes laid upon him and his lord. It wasn’t a feeling he reveled in. 

“We’ve already had our feast,” said the king, sitting himself comfortably at the head of the long wooden table. “But I can have a servant bring you something. Only the finest dining here.”

“We’ve already eaten. Just a drink is fine for now, your majesty,” said the duke. As he sat, the loyal knight followed. 

Daryl felt bear, having been made rid of his greatsword and his cloak by the guards at the entrance to the keep. There were few places outside of his home that he felt safe enough without either. 

“Ah, libations!” exclaimed the emphatic king. He held his goblet high for emphasis. “This is the finest mead in Alexandria and her surrounding kingdoms. It comes from a monastery, I’ve been told. They raise bees there, isn’t that fantastic?”

The knight and the duke exchanged a glance. They had no idea what to make of the king. He was so full of merry, the likes of which they hadn’t seen in years. Perhaps it was the mead, but Richard knew the man was jovial. Still, it was a kind of shock.

The servants arrived with intricately detailed pewter pitchers full of the honey wine, filling their goblets to the brim. The excesses of wealth and royalty were foreign to the knight. Duke Richard was wealthy, yes, but not like this.

“So,” spoke the king, “I trust your journey through my kingdom was pleasant? No dead ones crossed your path?”

“Not at all,” said Richard. “Your kingdom is quite safe, it seems. Those tall walls will keep anything out.”

“Hm, yes,” agreed Ezekiel. “But you can never be too careful. No one’s left the castle in ten years, I’m sure you know. It’s better to be safe.”

That reminded the duke. He intended to ask why the king had invited him to court, but before he could speak again, the boisterous king looked to Sir Daryl with an enthusiastic curiosity. 

“This is your knight?”

“Yes, this is Sir Daryl.”

The king settled back in his chair, stroking the gray corkscrew hairs upon his noble chin. “Ah, I’ve heard of your gallantry in battle, how you earned your title. My father knighted you, didn’t he?”

Daryl looked to his steward, wordlessly asking for permission to speak. Richard nodded. “Yes, your majesty,” spoke the knight. His voice was raspier than usual, having been silent for so long since arriving at the castle. After all, what could a knight possibly have to say? His only duty was to protect his lord, as a vassal. He was of lower rank than Richard, and, though he never much cared for the details of hierarchy, it was in his best interest to know his place.

“How grand! Well, gentlemen, I do hope you find this court to be a fount of merriment in these dark times.” He gestured to the surrounding great hall, and the people who watched with bated breath as they clung to the monarch’s every word. “Everyone has been so eager to meet you. This is a momentous occasion. A toast!” The king stood to his feet, raising his goblet high. Others followed suit, of course, as the two newcomers sat overwhelmed at the king’s table. “To Duke Richard and his knight, the first additions to court in a decade of strife.”

“Huzzah!” 

With a long drink of his mead, the king met the duke with wide eyes, then removed the cup in a near panic, though it was a jolly panic. “I almost forgot! How could I forget? My daughter, (Y/N). Elizabeth! Fetch my daughter!”

“Yes, your majesty.” The mousy young maid with flaxen hair frantically ascended the staircase with great haste. 

Richard straightened in his seat, clearing his throat. The knight could tell he was nervous, but he couldn’t understand why. A princess was hardly anything to be nervous about. It was the king the duke needed to impress, he thought. 

“Minstrels!” the king exclaimed, gesturing towards the troupe of musicians across the great hall. There were three, each dressed in colorful garb and feathered caps. One held a lute, the other, a flute, and the third, a tambour. “Play something for the princess’s entrance. Something… delicate, but dignified, like her.”

“Yes, your majesty!” one of the minstrels replied.

Yes, your majesty, seemed a rather common phrase around here.

Then, from atop the stairs appeared a young woman.

You heard the musicians begin to play their little tune—a soft, simple tune that seemed to evolve with each step you took. Each step was calculated and precise, partly because that was how you were trained to walk, and partly because you were careful not to trip over your gown. Your father had instructed you to wear your best clothes the last few days, though you weren’t sure why. You’d heard of a duke coming to court, but it was hardly of any interest to you. Why should you care? Why should you welcome an outsider when you haven’t been able to leave this dusty old castle in years? 

“That must be the duke,” whispered Margaret. She followed your every move, as a lady-in-waiting was supposed to. 

“He’s handsome,” Michonne whispered back. 

You shushed the ladies out of the corner of your mouth. They were much too excited for their own good, much more excited than you. 

At the base of the staircase, your father held his hand out to you, beaming at your beauty. Tonight, you wore your favorite champagne-colored surcote, made from a heavy silk, with long, flowing sleeves that split at the elbow to reveal the pure white lace-front gown. The décolletage was modest, but deep enough to reveal just the beginning of your cleavage, formed by the tight lacing that held your chest in place. It wasn’t quite in vogue these days, but then again, nothing was in vogue these days. 

As you took his hand, you realized that the duke and his knight were standing for you. Of course they were, but their new faces caught you off guard. You knew everyone in court so well, it was strange to see two strangers standing for you.

Your father lifted his hand, in turn raising your arm to show you off like a prized mare. With knitted brows and a quivering lip, you flashed him a confused expression. He’d never introduced you like this before, but then again, he never introduced you to anyone before. 

“Gentlemen,” he said, turning his attention to the duke and his knight. “I present to you my daughter, (Y/N), Crown Princess of Alexandria.”

The men each bent over to bow before you, and you took in their appearance with great interest. It wasn’t often you had new faces to study.

The duke was well-dressed, wearing a damask scarlet doublet that must’ve cost a fortune, with tight-fitting wool hose to accentuate his lean legs. It would be remiss not to note how handsome he was, with a head of lush curls and a short, well-trimmed beard to frame his salmon-colored lips. If it weren’t for his title and his clothing, you could tell the man was a noble just by looking at the shape of his nose, aquiline and strong. Yes, he was handsome.

But just beyond his shoulder, your eyes were pulled like magnets to the knight. His clothes were more muted, but made from a fine material. A plain black wool tabard draped over his broad shoulders, his waist cinched with a fine leather belt, strapped to which was a lone misericorde, the dagger which you knew from your studies to be what knights used to deliver the final death blow to an enemy. The sharp tip sent a shiver down your spine as you wondered briefly if he’d ever had to use it. 

Though his coloring was similar to the duke, both having hair of brown and eyes of blue, their similarities ended there. The knight had a much more tired face, world-weary. It was difficult to see clearly, given the shadows created by the long wavy locks of hair shrouding his visage, but he appeared to have a reddened scar trailing from his brow to his cheek, crossing over his left eye. 

From what you could see, he looked nothing like any man you’d seen before. He was weather-worn and hardened by the world, at least, that’s how he looked. He must’ve seen such terrible things, you thought. In the fine lines of his face, you could begin to make out an image of the world outside. Here was a man who must’ve known its ins and outs like the back of his hand, must’ve been so brave to have survived this long outside the walls, fighting the Dead.

Though your face was softened by curiosity, the knight’s was stoic and cold. He seemed somehow both distant and alert, aware of his surroundings despite his reluctance to be surrounded by them. The duke’s kind face was much more welcoming, but, for a moment, you were held hostage by the knight’s narrowed, serious gaze. 

“Your highness,” said the duke. “I am Duke Richard of House Grimes.” He turned to gesture towards the knight. “And this is my knight, Sir Daryl.”

A curious name for a curious face, you thought. Still, you tried to maintain your focus on the nobleman.

“It is an honor to meet you, milord,” you replied. “The court has been anticipating your arrival.” Though I haven’t. “Oh, these are my ladies-in-waiting, Lady Margaret and Lady Michonne.”

You brought the ladies forth, each of them curtseying before the duke. It gave you a moment to look upon the knight again. 

“Pleasure,” the duke said to your ladies. “And… may I say, princess, you’re just as radiant as they say.”

You looked wide-eyed at the king, who smiled bigger than he had in years. The blush that blossomed upon your cheeks was not one of flattery, necessarily, but slight embarrassment. “Oh… They speak of me?”

“Yes. Common people often praise your beauty. Many would sell their land or their livestock for the chance just to get a glimpse of you. I must admit, it would be worth it.”

A whirlpool of emotions formed in your belly, mostly confusion. You’d never been complimented quite like this before. “Well… Thank you, milord. That’s very kind of you to say.” Swallowing hard, you turned to your father, who seemingly expected you to return with an equal compliment. “Father, I’m going to retire to my chambers for the evening.” You turned back to face the duke. “Goodnight, Richard. I hope your stay in court is pleasant.”

Your father’s smile faded with your announcement, but he nodded as he tried to offset his disappointment. “Of course, my dear. Goodnight.”

At length, you sat before your vanity to remove your jewels while Elizabeth prepared your bed as usual. She hummed to herself the same little tune the musicians had played earlier for your grand entrance to meet the duke. Removing your translucent veil, you got to work undoing the circles of elaborate braids and removing the genuine pearls laced throughout when a rapping came at the door of your chamber.

“My dear, it’s me,” said your father. “May I come in?”

Oh, for pity's sake. 

You turned on your stool to gesture towards Elizabeth. “Let him in,” you said. “I can undress myself tonight. Goodnight, Beth.”

The young girl nodded before opening the door for the king. He thanked her as she left, while you straightened up to no doubt receive a tongue lashing for your less than friendly reception of the newcomers. 

“(Y/N),” he sighed, sitting at the foot of your bed as he adjusted his gold trimmed velvet robe. “My dear… I must say I am a bit disappointed that you didn’t sit and speak with the duke tonight.”

“Well, father, I… It’s hard to be excited about these new guests when I myself haven’t been outside the castle since I was a girl. And now, all of a sudden, you’re letting in some nobleman and his knight? Why?”

To the king, it was obvious, but to you, it was totally unclear. There was much about the world you still didn’t know, and though you were knowledgeable, on account of your royal tutoring, you were still naïve in many ways. 

Your father stood as he sighed, piecing a long, gray-black dread lock behind his ear. “Well, I was hoping…” He shook his head, then crossed over to you, taking your hands in his as he looked at you with that adventurous sparkle in his eyes. “You liked Richard, didn’t you? He was charming?”

You were caught off guard by the question, but you shrugged and nodded with a half-smile. “Why, yes. He’s charming.”

“And handsome?”

“Well… Of course. He’s very handsome, any woman would think so.”

“So…”

“Father, are you… trying to ask me if I want to court the duke?”

“Yes,” he laughed in relief that you caught on without him having to explain. “Richard is a good man, one of the best nobles left. He’s wealthy, too. Though I was always hoping for a political marriage for you, as long as the man is at least a noble and a suitable husband, I think this kind of match would be good for you. In fact, we could move Richard here, that way you never have to leave the castle, and—”

“Father!” you exclaimed, shocked by how excited he was at this idea without even hearing your thoughts, of which you had many. “I’m not ready to marry!”

“But you’re twenty-six, my dear.”

Standing to your feet, you shook your head and pulled out the remaining braids in your hair. “I’m just not ready. The duke is… He’s perfect, but I’m not interested. I can’t explain it, it’s just not a match.”

“But you’ve hardly spoken to him!”

You didn’t need to speak to him to know, you just knew. It was impossible to explain. All you knew was that it wouldn’t work, and that marriage was simply not in your near future. You had other priorities, other… curiosities. Love was not one of them, except in your fairytales and love poems. You had a hard time believing love could be any better than that. 

“Father, please. I’ve told you how I felt, and I’m sorry if you brought this man here just for me, but I can’t force myself to try with someone who doesn’t interest me in that way.”

He crossed the room with a soft step, his face morphing into an understanding smile. “I know, darling. I’m sorry to have upset you. I would never force you into a marriage that didn’t please you, I just… I just want you to marry a good man. Well, so long as he’s a noble, at least.”

Your father was never a traditional king, but he still insisted on some things, and one of them was that you would marry well. Well meaning high status. Some things were sacred.

“But if the duke isn’t to your liking,” he continued, “I won’t force it.”

“Thank you, father. That means a great deal to me.”

“Good.” His hand cradled the back of your head to bring you forward, allowing him to bestow a fatherly kiss upon your forehead. “Someday, you will make a great queen. A better ruler than me, I am sure.”

“Father,” you laughed. “You are a great ruler. The people love you. Everyone loves you. That’s what matters.”

“My sweet girl,” he said, now holding your cheeks to admire your pretty, delicate features. You were truly a princess through and through. “You’re the most precious jewel in my crown.” An old phrase he’d said to you since you were a little girl. The man was so sentimental, a trait you admired greatly. “I bid you goodnight.”

As he headed back towards the door, you began to think freely, with your mind returning to the knight beside Richard. Daryl, you recalled his name. You’d never heard a name like that, nor seen a face like that. 

“Father?” you called out to him just before he could leave.

“Yes, my dear?”

Looking down, you toyed with the fine silk fabric of your surcote, prefering to study the rich champagne color than to face your father as you asked, “Tell me about Richard’s knight.”

The king’s brows furrowed, his head tilting to the side in a display of curiosity and confusion. “The knight? Sir… Daryl, I believe?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, still nervously rubbing the garment between your fingers. To clarify, you lifted your gaze to your father. “Well, I mean… I was just curious. You know how I have a fascination with knights and things of that sort.”

The king shook his head with a warm, deep chuckle. “Oh, daughter. Well, I don’t know much of him, other than that he is brave, loyal… He was knighted by your grandfather, you know. Just a few years before he passed.”

“And he is of noble birth, like Richard?”

“No, no,” he replied. “Not at all. His parents were lower gentry. He earned his title in battle, a rare feat for a knight, as you know.”

Indeed, most knights were born to nobility, becoming pageboys before the age of ten, then promoting to squire in their youth. After years of studying under an established knight, the squire would then undergo the dubbing ceremony. He’d learn the code of chivalry, and he’d pledge allegiance to a lord, offering military services in exchange for a fief, or land. It seemed that Sir Daryl must’ve met many of these requirements, but he certainly wasn’t a noble. 

“That’s quite interesting,” you said. “I knew he seemed different. Well, goodnight, father.”

“Goodnight, my sweet.”

When the candlelight was extinguished, and the only sound left in the dead of night was that of the crickets chirping and the toads ribbeting, you were left in solitude with your thoughts. These thoughts were not new, of course. They were visions of the outside world, beyond the castle walls and the walls of the kingdom. They hung somewhere between consciousness and dream, but your thoughts were intentional, purposeful. You thought of the trees, the flowers, the little streams. You thought of the deer and the birds and the butterflies, every beautiful thing you hadn’t seen since the Scourge began. That plague had taken everything from you, your mother, your freedom, your peace of mind.

Others had it much worse, of course, and you knew that, but that didn’t ease your heartache. There were many nights you cried yourself to sleep, hoping your father couldn’t hear, for he did what he did for good reason—he was terrified of losing you, his only child. 

But tonight, you didn’t cry at all. In fact, there was a strange sense of hope nestled in your heart, something you hadn’t felt in so many years. At first, you couldn’t put your finger on it, but as your head and your heart began to work together, you realized—it was the knight.

Not only was the knight a new addition to the court, but he was brave, a fighter. He would surely help you escape. 

Escape was something you’d thought of before, but now, it seemed within reach. Of course, you wouldn’t leave forever, just a day. Just a day outside the walls, breathing in the fresh air, feeling the soft grass underfoot. There wasn’t anyone else. The guards all pledged such strong allegiance to the king, they would surely inform him of your plans if you asked. The others weren’t skilled in combat, couldn’t keep you safe. No, the only solution was the knight. He would help you. Surely, he would help you. 

In your alone time, you often walked the corridors of the keep, as there wasn’t much else to do when you weren’t occupied by your books or your needlepoint. Today was no different, though the court was still excitable over the arrival of the duke last night. 

You tried to ignore that, instead keeping yourself in your thoughts as you wandered aimlessly, until your father’s panicked voice resounded from inside his cabinet, adjacent to his bedchamber. What you made out were the words, “How could this happen?!”

Curiosity overcame you, your boredom having been relentless. You looked around the corridor for a moment, ensuring no passersby would see you. The guards were at the other end of the hall, facing away from you. If you were quiet, no one would see you pressing your ear to the ornate wooden door. 

“Constable,” your father huffed, “are you quite sure?”

“Yes, your majesty,” spoke Lord Constable Aaron. “There have been reports of mysterious cloaked knights extorting citizens throughout the kingdom. They demand crops, livestock, women… They threaten murder if they don’t get their way, my liege. We had some isolated incidents in the past, but this past month, they’ve been happening more frequently.”

“And you didn’t think it of import to tell the king?” questioned Lord Chancellor Gerald. “There hasn’t been crime like this in Alexandria since we closed our gates.”

“I didn’t want to worry his majesty with incidents of petty crime,” responded the constable. “But now… Well, a boy has been killed.”

“What?!” your father exclaimed. “Who?”

“Thomas Webb, son of the innkeeper, James. He was only sixteen… I’ve been told it was…”

The constable trailed off, his voice becoming shaky as he spoke. 

“Speak, Aaron,” demanded the king. 

The constable cleared his throat, then lowered his voice. You pressed your ear harder against the wood of the door, so much so that you feared a splinter. 

“Apologies, milord… It—it was a gruesome death, the likes of which we haven’t seen in Alexandria since the Dead breached our walls. But this wasn’t a dead man, it was a knight in black armor, their leader. We could hardly identify the boy, his head was… Well, your majesty, his head was obliterated.”

A small gasp escaped your lips, your hand quickly reaching up to catch it before it alerted the guards. 

“By God,” uttered the chancellor. “What kind of knight are we dealing with?”

“A knight wouldn’t commit a crime like that,” spoke an at first unfamiliar voice, but you quickly identified it as that of the duke. “No, not any kind of true knight. A dishonored one, maybe.”

“It’s of no concern to me what this man’s status is,” said the king. “All I care about is protecting my people. Constable, I need strengthened security across the kingdom, especially in the merchant district. Something tells me these marauders are targeting the middle and lower classes. I also want tighter security at the outer curtain. No one should be entering or leaving the kingdom without my permission, and if they’re entering clandestinely, there must be a blind spot or a chink in our armor. If the living can get in, the Dead can, too. Get it sorted. There will be no more of this… obliterating in my kingdom, understand?”

“Absolutely, your majesty. We’ll double up our defenses. This won’t happen again… Oh, and… There is one more thing.”

“What is it?” asked the king. “I have very little time for idle conversation today, constable.”

“Yes, yes, of course, your majesty, but… Well, this is quite important. The knight in black armor left a message with one of our guards, just before he… chopped off his arm.” 

Your lips trembled with fear. How could a man do such a thing? And this man was in your kingdom, hurting your people. It was horrifying. That poor guard, you thought. That poor boy… Oh, that poor, poor boy. 

“Good lord!” huffed the king. “All right, what is it?”

The constable cleared his throat as you heard a crinkling of paper. “Your majesty,” the constable read from the letter, “let this be a first warning, an introduction of sorts. My name is Sir Negan of House Smith, my people are the Saviors. If you cooperate with me, there will be no more bloodshed, but if you go against me, I will plunder and pillage this pretty kingdom until the streets are soaked red. I ask, or demand, rather, for one thing: your daughter.”

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter ➳

[readersandimagines]

Gone Missing - Chapter 1

Okay so this took me way too long to write! I decided to try and write it in first person but also still keep it neutral enough that a reader could place themselves in the story? I may scrap this and go back to 2nd or 3rd person we shall see! Sooo let me know what you think! Only other warning I have is I didn't proof read this and quickly put it together.

But uhh essentially you're Adam's sibling and he's been missing for three days too many so you do what any sensable human would do and go to the police station to report him missing. Dectective Hoffman is on the case ;3

It had been three days. Three days wondering where in the world my brother, Adam had gotten up to. I sighed, checking my phone for what felt like the hundredth time today. Still no callback. Maybe Adam just got busy, I thought trying to reassure myself that he was fine. The last time we spoke he told me about some ex cop that was paying him pretty good money, so maybe he was just busy with that?

“I can’t do this anymore!” I exclaimed, standing up to grab my coat.

I quickly locked the door to my apartment and headed out. I needed to stay calm, but my mind raced with too many thoughts to grab hold of anything. As I walked and held my phone close; Adam had exactly 20 minutes to call me before I reported him as a missing person. I knew he would be angry, but I couldn’t lose him. He was the only family I had left.

The autumn air was crisp as I started to walk along the street. Cars and people passed by continuing on their way. Their world continued to move forward while it felt like mine froze. I could feel a lump growing in my throat as I pushed the door open to enter the Metropolitan Police Department.

The front was unremarkable dead. A small lobby with a few chairs and a main desk with an officer to greet you. Taking a deep breath, I approached the desk mentally preparing to deal with whatever bullshit these guys could throw at me. As long as they help me find him that’s all that matters. 

“Name and case number?” the voice asked.

“Uhh… I don’t have one?” I answered, earning a sigh and annoyed glance from the man behind the desk.

Normally this man wouldn’t have bothered me so much. I would just sass him back and yet I couldn’t bring myself to do that. 

“You don’t have a name?” the cop asked a little louder, gaining some attention from people behind him.

“I have a name, but I don’t have a case number.” I responded, feeling my chest tighten. “I… need to file a missing persons case.”

“Sweetie people go missing every day in this town, you sure they didn’t just dump you?”

Anger, confusion, sadness. Each one leaving as quickly as it came. I couldn’t understand how walking into a police station was such a problem. The man behind the desk examined me, seeming to want to say something else before another man in a suit walked up. The two officers exchanged words briefly before the man in the suit walked over. I clenched my jaw, I knew I shouldn’t have come here. I would have better luck finding Adam myself than trusting these people.

“Detective Hoffman,” the man called, extending his rather large hand out to me.

“_________ Stanheight,” I answered, taking his hand into my own. 

He had a strong, but gentle handshake as he gestured to the chairs in the lobby. If this had been a regular day, I would have been having to contain my emotions as I looked over the detective. He had the brightest blue eyes and a nice smile. He wasn’t ripped like other cops, but he definitely seemed to be in shape. I just hoped he could help me find Adam.

“I couldn’t help but overhear,” Detective Hoffman said, gesturing towards the front desk. “What makes you think someone is missing?”

“I don’t think anyone is missing. I know my brother Adam is missing. We talk everyday and now I can’t get in touch with him,” I huffed, my annoyance starting to grow as the detective nodded, pulling a notebook out of his pocket.

“Adam huh? How long has it been since you spoke? Could he just not have his phone?” he asked, earning a glare from me.

“It’s been three days. Look, I know he’s missing. We talk everyday. And one of your officers hired him to follow some doctor--” I snapped before he cut me off.

“One of our officers?” 

“Yes! Some old guy-- Bob Tapp? I think?” I exclaimed, mentally kicking myself for not getting the name when Adam had originally told me.

“Detective Tapp? But he’s dea--” the original guy from the desk started to say before Hoffman cut him off.

“All the more reason to take their information,” he said sharply.

“D-dead?” I stammered, my eyes widening. “No, you have to be mistaken, Adam just got hired by this guy.”

Everything around me felt like it was spinning. If the guy that hired Adam was dead-- no Adam couldn’t be dead. My thoughts grew louder and I couldn’t focus. Time seemed to freeze. I could feel tears filling my eyes before I felt a strong, but firm touch on my shoulder bringing me back to reality for a moment.

“Hey, I need you to calm down. We will do everything we can to find your brother,” Hoffman said firmly.

“He can’t die,” I whispered, trying desperately to stop the flood gates trying to open. “He’s… the only family I have left.”Hoffman’s face softened briefly and he nodded like he understood what I felt. I needed to calm down. I needed to give him the information. But I also desperately needed to go out and start my own search. It felt like the wind had been knocked from beneath my sails and yet all I could do was focus on one singular thought: Adam could be in serious danger.

[kyouka-supremacy]

Ask game can you do kyouka

Yay Kyouka!!!

Favorite thing about them: HER EXISTING. The fact that she's one (1) fleshed out female character and for one I will love her for that. I also generally really like the trope of little girls facing unimaginable horrors and defeating them, it gives me hope. The fact that she was able to get out of an abusive environment by her own forces is very inspiring, too. More Kyouka love words here.

Least favorite thing about them: I feel I'm cheating at this with always mentioning things that are really not about the character but rather about the way they fit in the story but... I'm very disappointed when the author flat out forgets about her. 55 Minutes and the whole airport arc. I've said it before but I really wish she would have intervened during the Atsushi / Akutagawa airport fight because what were she and Yosano and Lucy doing the entire time. In general, I wish we'd see her more outside of her relationship with Atsushi which I LOVE but that is starting to feel quite limiting of her right now.

Favorite line:

Eheh. It's been this blog title since day one. It's just that crepes is one of my favourite desserts too but most of all I really appreciate the feeling of carrying on living even if it's just for the small nice things in life. I may be worthless, and with no right to breathe; but crepes still make life worth living. I appreciate the sentiment. Ss/kk should learn from her it'd spare them a lot of trouble lol

brOTP: I LOVE LOVE LOVE HER RELATIONSHIP WITH ATSUSHI. It's really one of my favourite things. I think Kyouka is about the only person Atsushi truly cares about beyond his own selfishness and it's really heartwarming. They make each other's lives better every day and comfort each other that they're good people capable of doing good. I also think Kyouka really helps Atsushi in the way she's so blunt and straightforward, she helps him overcome his insecurities and second-guessing everything; she's a reassuring presence for him because he knows she wouldn't lie to him. And Atsushi allows her to be a child, and it's so sweet!!! They need each other in a lot of ways and they're so perfect for each other. Platonic soulmates fr. I also really like her relationship with Kenji, that too is so wholesome, I'm happy she has someone her same age she can do 14 y/os things with!!! Oh and I LOVE her relationship with Lucy, they're so much fun in their low-key animosity but I like to think they truly care about each other and that Lucy fully took Kyouka on as her annoying little sister she wouldn't hesitate to die for. AND the potential of Kyouka and Yosano, AND Fukuzawa. AND Akutagawa and Kouyou (more as like, relationships to explore rather than think they'd actually get along). I think about Kyouka's relationships with other characters a lot lol.

OTP: You know I'm fully convinced I would have been a full flagged Kyouka/Kenji supporter if only they were a little older, but the way I can really only think of them as children kinda makes it hard for me to say I ship them just because personally I don't really like to imagine them in a romantic picture in general (个_个) It's a shame because again I know what I like and this kind of sun/moon coded het ship is something I would have been really into ;;

nOTP: Likely Kyouka and Kenji for the reasons mentioned above :// It's just something I noticed I'm not very into when it's brought up in ss/kk fics. That said, it's not like I have any strong feeling against it either.

Random headcanon: About that, I really like to think she and Kenji are going to be partners when they're older.

Unpopular opinion: Not sure this goes here but right now I can't think of anything else– I do think that in the early chapters of the manga there was some level of writing Kyouka like she was Atsushi's love interest. Overall I think the manga verges way less in the “siblings” direction than the “eventually couple to-be living together” direction than the fandom makes it to be (I don't think they were ever directly associated to siblings in the manga, like, ever? I don't remember Atsushi ever saying he sees Kyouka as a little sister or something in those lines). Which I personally do not like, but in my reading interpretation that's the direction the manga was going for. That's why the chapter 15 opening is extremely distasteful to me, it really feels like pushing forward the stereotype of little dainty young house wife waking up early to prepare breackfast for her husband... And the way we know she's so young makes it downright disturbing. (But again, that's only as far as my understanding of the manga goes, feel free to disagree with me on this).

Song i associate with them: Shinkai Shoujo by Yuuyu-P!!!! It's just so her, both in the girly j-pop vibes and lyrics. It literally talks about a girl sinking in the darkness but managing to find the light in the end :')

Favorite picture of them:

Favourite panel from the manga:

Favourite illustration:

Favourite illustration in the anime art style:

Favourite Mayoi card:

Send me a character?

[devilishmango]

Kenneski [DEVLOG 5/5/2024]

Hey guys!

This isn't an update to Kenneski, but I just wanted to bring you guys a devlog so you know how things are going and what to expect. ☺️

I'm about half-way through chapter 2, which is exciting. I'm not entirely sure where the chapter is going to end up, because I only have a basic outline of how I want the entire story to go. [Yes, I know, I'm horribly disorganized 😅] So for now, I'm just kind of going with the flow, and waiting for that pivotal, important part to pop up and stuff. The good part about that, though, is that I'm not afraid to go off on different paths and stuff for you to take. I think that'll definitely be fun to play through the story multiple times to see all that you can find out in each one.

Anyway! Down to more technical stuff- I rewrote the beginning of chapter 1, and added a bunch of new coding and whatnot. So, when the time comes to play chapter 2, you will need to re-play the entire thing. But, you will definitely want to, because I've improved a lot of different parts in the first chapter!

Relationship and character-wise, you get to learn A LOT more about each RO, because you get to spend some quality time with each of them. I'm already so excited to get to the romantic parts, but I have to keep restraining myself and let the relationships develop naturally. This can't be a PWP 😂 [I mean, if you guys are interested in some PWP side-stories, I can definitely oblige you... 👀] You also get to learn a little more about MC, one thing being kind of a major spoiler so I can't say anything about it for now. You'll just have to wait to find out about it when I upload the demo!

SO! Speaking of uploading the demo: I'm hoping to have chapter 2 finished by the beginning of June... But it may reach towards the middle of June. It all depends on how much writing I can get done THIS month. 🥲

Anyway, that's all I have for now! I'll hopefully get you the update next month. See you guys then!

CURRENT WORD COUNT: 30,635 45,440 [+14,805]

Also, as promised, there's a little sneak peak under the cut!

With a quick glance back at the door, I make sure no one is watching before I quickly pick up the little dagger and hold it in my good hand, feeling the weight and cold metal against my palm. Then, I realize that I have no idea how I’m going to keep this weapon hidden away in my sleeve without it falling out… That is, until I see a few pieces of thin rope lying on the floor.  Deftly, I pick the rope up and place the cold dagger against my left arm, careful of the stitches. Then, after some finessing, I’m able to wrap the rope around my arm a few times, before tying the ends into a knot with the help of my free hand and teeth. After I pull my sleeve down, I can feel a sigh of relief escape my lungs when I realize that the sleeves are //just// loose enough that the dagger is unnoticeable. Feeling rather proud of myself, and a little reassured that I now have a weapon, I continue my search of the storage closet.  Farther into the storage closet, I can barely see anything except for vague silhouettes on the wall. There seems to be some sort of handle, but I’m unsure what it’s connected to. Is it another door? Why would there be a separate entrance to this storage closet? Where does it go?  I stumble my way into the dark, my good arm out to guide me, before I suddenly stop dead in my tracks. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as a cold breeze drifts through the storage closet, bringing along //something else//… A feeling. A feeling that I’m being watched.  Looking around is pointless, as I can’t see much of anything. But that means I’m unsure if there’s actually someone in this closet with me, or if I’m just being paranoid. And if I can’t see my surroundings, how do I know if it’s safe to retreat?  Something catches my attention- a small movement in the back corner of the storage room. I squint my eyes, trying to see into the inky blackness… only to realize that I’m staring at a //figure//. Whoever this figure is, it’s hard to see them clearly. They must be wearing dark clothes since they blend into the darkness so well…

[redgyl]

Hi. I was struck with Boatem Knights AU brainrot when I saw fanart for it on youtube when someone retroactively made music to go with it (Thriplerex's "Builders Of All That Extraordinary Municipality (B.O.A.T.E.M.) - V.S. Hermitcraft's Boatem Crew". I like it.), which lead me to Tumblr. Then I sawn what was on here already, saw the writing prompt "Scar injures Grian in Vex form," and a story started forming in my mind. So, I had to actually make an account just so I can share my ideas.

What Applestruda and other creators on here have made is wonderful! I don't want to step on any toes, and I do not wish to be the newbie who knows not the meaning of etiquette. I hope that some of my ideas can be canon, but if not, I hope they're still good as alternative, harmless fan-stuff while still respecting the original creators.

Anyway, here is the first chapter of my story inspired by what everyone else has already made. Enjoy!

Chaper 1

The poor ogres were dead.  They just didn’t know it yet.

Hunched over to ten feet tall, lazily holding tree logs for clubs, the two green-skinned, filthy monsters chuckled over the knight standing alone in front of them.  They laughed even harder to see the other four knights retreat back up the trail.

“Heh heh, your friends are smart,” one said.

“Heh heh, they left you to die,” said the other.

“You look delicious.”

“We’ll eat you raw.”

The knight, who wore relatively little armor, kept smiling up at them, his dark hair turning a glowing white and his tanned skin turning blue.  A cat-shaped, glowing ghost purred on his shoulder.  It mewed and rubbed on his cheek.

The knight, whose name was Sir Scar, laughed back at the ogres, putting down his crossbow and ignoring his sword.  “You know what they say,” he said, his dark eyes turning white.  The cat jumped down from his shoulder and disappeared into the brush.  The knight switched his stance into a low crouch, fingers hooked like claws and held back, ready to swing forward.

“They didn’t leave me,” he said. ”They got out of my way!”

~~~~~~~~

“And then I beat it over the head with its own arm!” Scar finished as he and his four companions rode their steeds along the road through the woods, shifting his crossbow back to its spot over his shoulder.  He was back to normal: dark hair, dark eyes, easy-going smile, scarred face.  “I always wanted to do that.”

Sir Grian giggled. “That’s so cliche’,” he teased.  “Of course you’d want to do it.”

“You really should have stuck around to see it,” Scar teased back, knowing full well that they couldn’t.

“Sure, Scar, sure,” Grian played along.  “The only time you’re not dramatically tripping over your own feet because you’re feral?  Love to see it sometime, so long as I’m out of reach.”

“You could with those wings, you know,” Scar replied.  “Why don’t you fly more?”

Grian made a face.  “You fly in Vex form, too.  Besides, armor’s heavy,” he explained, tapping his chest plate.  He was an odd-looking person, with a plain, round face and plain, brown hair and an ordinary, sensible taste of fashion, but also with bright red macaw wings sprouting from his back and another matching, silly set from the sides of his head.

The ghostly cat on Scar’s shoulder mewed with jealousy.  “Oh, sorry, Jellie,” Scar said, scratching the pretty little thing behind the head.  It went back to purring.  It was always reassuring to see the blue cat there.  The little familiar helped Scar control the Vex enchantment, keeping the monster inside soothed until it either overflows with bloodlust or is intentionally called on.  Only then does she leave, making space for the beast.  

Scar’s next words were toward Grian, even as he kept cuddling his cat.  “Maybe you should have a boob window, like me.”

Grian laughed.  “I’d sooner die.”

“You know, Grian,” Scar said in his smoothest voice, the tone he uses whenever he's trying to swindle a customer. "You're a reasonable man-bird. Do you know just how light and easy to handle a boob window is? It is like having wings, wings for your chest."

As the two of them continued their friendly banter, the pair of traveling companions behind them eavesdropped.  One was a slight man with a handsome mustache and meticulous hair, his dashing appearance comically ruined by a single clover sprouting from his head.  He carried a rocket launcher — a weapon unheard of in this age of magic.  His eyes danced with amusement at Grian and Scar’s conversation.  Beside him rode Lady Pearl, large scythe casually held in her hand, her eyes rolling at Scar’s current attempt to sell the “boob window.”  She was a beautiful woman with a couple of feather-like antenna coming from her head, her armor white and bright.  

“I’d recommend calling it something else,” Pearl said in a low tone to the man riding beside her, “because ‘boob window’ sounds so stupid, but I don’t want to help him be more convincing.”

“Me, neither,” chuckled the man, Sir Mumbo.  “But I can appreciate his persistence.”

Way up in the front, Sir Impulse smiled.  He was a big, solid man with a friendly face and yellow on his armor, a large sword bound to his back. He had found himself a bunch of good friends, he thought.  They each had a great sense of humor, and each was a good-hearted knight, which made for good company.  That was a blessing, since they would be stuck together for the next few days.

In the back of his mind, Impulse worried about the wisdom of intentionally using Scar’s Vex form.  Yes, they all knew what Scar was when they accepted him as a knight.  Sure, Scar said that the bloodlust would grow and he had to just let it out so he could stay in control, and, sure, it was handy against big monsters like ogres or trolls or minotaurs.  But Impulse wondered, were they treating this power too casually?

It would be a few hours yet before they set up camp for the night.  They won’t be out of the woods for a couple of days, at least.  Then, they could be home.

~~~~~~~

Far, far away, a good, kind, beloved king received a gift.  

That gift exploded.  When the smoke cleared, that king had been turned to stone.

[cainluvr69]

Let Me Tell You The Story Of A Rainbow - Chapter 1

???: I can see rainbows in the sky even when it hasn't rained. The colors are so vivid, but so fleeting…and so familiar. Have you paid attention to sounds you hear when the wind embraces you? Like the gentle ringing of bells, like the burst of sparkling stardust overflowing and tinkling down to earth. I'll scoop up what's left behind…all that's left when the notes have faded out, when the colors have faded to nothing… And I will paint with those remainders. I'll write a story that begins with a sheaf of rustling paper. …Hey, Roxy. Please be the one who will always stay with me. Stay right at my side. I don't want to lose anyone else. Because this is a world just for me…just like the colors of the rainbow and the sound of bells. Please don't disappear. I can't lose you…please…please…

✦✧☾✧✦

We were gathered in the manor's hall on one fine and sunny afternoon.

Snow: Sage.

White: Dear Sage.

Akira: Snow, White. What's everyone here for? Is something happening?

Snow: Oh, yes. But before we explain, first we're doing a roll-call.

White: First up, Central Country!

Cain: Gotcha. Arthur's away on official business, but the rest of us are here.

Riquet: Cain and I fetched Oz, so I can confirm he's here, too.

Oz: …

Snow: Good. Next up is East.

Faust: All of us are here, but does the fact that you gathered us here mean that something's happened?

Heath: Are we all going on a mission together, maybe…?

Nero: As long as it ain't the Calamity, that's what matters to me.

Shino: Are we doing something on a large scale? If we're gonna be seeing some action, just leave it all to me.

White: Ohoho, put your hearts at ease. We will not be doing something so dangerous as all that.

Snow: Next should be West, but… We appear to be missing someone.

Shylock: I did have them all assembled…until a few moments ago.

Chloe: Wait, Rustica…? Rustica's not here! He was just right next to me…

Murr: Maybe he decided he wanted to start playing hide-and-seek. I loooove hide-and-seek!

Rutile: We'll do our very best no matter what sort of job we're given. Right, Mitile?

Mitile: Yep! I'm excited to find out what we're going to be doing that needs all of us.

Snow: It seems the Southern wizards are all already raring to go.

White: How very reassuring.

Figaro: Yeah, as their teacher, I'm very proud of them.

Lennox: I'll be helping, too. If you need strength, just ask me. …Although I feel like I can smell something burnt…

Mithra & Owen & Bradley: …

Akira: Um… Your clothes look singed here and there. Are the three of you okay?

White: Why thank you for your hard work, Oz. You gathered all three of them up in one go.

Oz: It was not especially "hard".

Bradley: Izzat right…

Mithra: Hmmph…

Owen: Oh, yeah…?

Akira: (…Th-the air suddenly feels like it's been electrified…!)

White: My, you're all so hot-headed.

Snow: Now then, let's get down to what we're doing today.

The twins didn't pay any mind to the bloodlust hanging in the air that was pointed singularly at them. They laughed together, and then spoke together.

Snow & White: Today we're going to be cleaning up the whoooole manor!

Chloe: Cleaning up…

Heathcliff: …Together?

Snow: Indeed.

White: Here!

Snow & White: <Noscomnia>!

The twins chanted their spell, and cleaning supplies popped into everyone's hands--yes, with cute little popping sounds and everything. Mops, brushes, and brooms for cleaning, not flying. I found myself holding a couple of dishcloths.

Owen: Excuse me? That can't be why you dragged all of us here.

Mithra: Didn't you say this was going to be a highly important mission that needed every one of us in attendance to succeed?

Oz: That is what I was told, as well.

Bradley: Cleanin' ain't somethin' we need to be makin' time for in the first place. Every wizard knows to keep their shit clean. No one's stupid enough to leave so much as a hair behind when they don't know what it could get picked up 'n used for.

Snow: True though that may be, that's not what's important here. The point is for everyone to work together for a single end goal.

White: Proud as we all are, we are still lacking harmony.

Snow: We are missing the spirit of cooperation.

White: This is a rare incidence of so many wizards living communally with one another. It is essential that we take advantage of it and mingle with those different from ourselves.

Rutile: You're absolutely right! If we all work together, then even the little nooks and crannies we don't usually get to in our typical cleaning will be spotless in no time.

Shino: I'm a little annoyed it's not combat, but I'm still plenty good at cleaning. Especially tending to gardens, so just leave all of that to me.

Nero: Then I'll take the kitchen. I was wantin' to do an inventory of our ingredients anyways.

Murr: I wanna do kitchen stuff too!

Nero: What.

Shylock: My, how rare. Are you hoping for scraps?

Murr: That too, but I found this potion recipe I wanna try out. I'm gonna be using charred salamander and mandragora root to make something as icky goopy sticky as bubbling magma!

Shylock: That sounds…awfully involved. Be sure to listen to what Nero tells you, and mind your manners. Don't leave any messes.

Nero: Whaaaat…

Owen: Not that I care what you do, but don't use the pots that are meant for making sweets. I don't want the smell from your science experiments getting in my snacks.

Cain: That's all well and good, but I don't think I want that on any of the other pots either…

Mitile: Rutile, how about we tackle the library?

Rutile: That sounds good. We've all been bringing in a lot of books.

Riquet: I'll help out, too! I study a lot in the library too, after all. It is important to keep the areas around oneself clean and tidy. That, and I feel like the shelves deeper inside are getting messier lately.

Mithra: You should stay away from them, actually. That's where I'm keeping the grimoires I can't keep in my room anymore. If they're in a bad mood, they might snap at you or try to charge you.

Riquet: What.

Mitile: Don't leave dangerous things like that lying around…! That's a room everyone uses, you know.

Rutile: But I'm kind of interested in seeing Mithra's personal library…

Snow: My, my. It seems everyone knows what they want to do.

White: Now then, dear Sage. Declare the beginning of our cleaning spree, will you?

Akira: …Declare…?

Snow: Like, like, "let's go~!"

White: The previous Sage said doing such things is important for maintaining everyone's morale.

Snow: He also said that if you can get a laugh out of your opening line, that's what matters most.

Akira: But…but that's…!

My back straightened up at the twins' words, and I took a step forward in front of everyone.

Akira: Umm, I think getting a laugh would be hard, but… Today we're working together to clean the manor for the sake of deepening our bonds with one another. So, let's try to use as little magic as possible…

Mithra: <Arthim>

Mithra lazily recited his spell, and then I heard the distant echo of an explosion.

Akira: Um, was that…

Mithra: Yes. I'm bringing this "cleaning" to an end. I have gotten rid of everything unsightly. You may be grateful now.

Mithra languidly crossed his legs in his seat on the hall's staircase.

Bradley: Done in five seconds flat.

Figaro: Welp, that's that.

Owen: It's what we should've done from the start.

Shylock: I would have preferred to have gotten a bit more of a taste myself, but…

Oz: …Sigh.

An odd silence I wasn't sure how to describe hung in the air, only to be interrupted by light and cheery footsteps echoing through the hall.

Rustica: Oh my, everyone is in attendance. Were you all invited to a party?

Chloe: Rustica! Where were you?

Rustica: I was taking a walk in the courtyard. The marigolds were looking exceptionally lovely, you see. Watching them blow to and fro in the breeze filled me with musical inspiration. I'll be sure to let you hear what I came up with soon, Chloe.

Chloe: Jeez… I was worried about you because you disappeared on me all of a sudden. You're always doing things at your own pace, Rustica!

Cain: …So, hey, does it smell kind of smoky in here or is it just me?

Nero: Yeah, I think it's somethin' outside…

Rustica: Why, that reminds me. I saw ribbons made of flame here and there in the garden. I extinguished the ones that I saw so that the flames wouldn't spread to the flowerbeds… Were they something someone set up for a game of some kind?

Chloe: Ribbons of flame…?!

Akira: You mean they were burning?!

Rustica: Indeed. They were crackling and sparking gracefully, but I suppose they're a bit dangerous too, aren't they?

Akira: Um, Mithra, what was the spell you just used…?

Mithra: All I did was turn everything getting in the way to ash.

Snow & White: That's a little hardcore for cleaning!

Shylock: It seems your cleaning methods are a bit much, Mithra.

Mithra: Thank you very much.

Bradley: They ain't praisin' you, man.

Figaro: So basically, our mission's gone from cleanup crew to firefighting work?

Cain: The manor catching fire's kind of a big deal! We need to hurry and put it out.

Riquet: R-right! The fires will be spread through the whole building, right?

Heathcliff: Let's split up! Let's see, I need to find a bucket…

Mitile: I've got one!

Chloe: Me too!

Shino: Let's use water from the fountain. It's not like it's gonna run out.

Lennox: Please stay here, Master Sage. We'll have the fires put out before you know it.

Akira: O-okay. But, um…

Cain: Hmm? What's up?

Akira: I--I think it's fine if you use your magic for this…

My wizards froze in their flustered tracks.

Rutile: …That's true, isn't it.

Nero: Whoops… I meant t' say somethin' but I couldn't find the right timing.

Faust: Same here…

Snow: As did I… We were overwhelmed by the little ones' efficiency.

White: Indeed we were.

The younger wizards exchanged looks with each other, their grins seeming a little bit embarrassed. Behind them, Oz raised his staff.

Oz: <Vox Nox>

In the blink of an eye, the sky clouded over, and a great deluge of rain fell over the manor…

Next Chapter

[panicatthediaz]

This concludes chapter 3, posted earlier to my AO3 because timezones apparently glitch it out. This is currently one of my three longest parts :') And like I said there, I have no idea how long this entire fic will end up being. I hope you enjoy part 9, 'cause I definitely had fun writing it!

[Part 1] – [Part 8] – [Part 10]

@madaboutmunson @lamburrito @benjaminrussell @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @dijkstraspath @swiftiebuckleys @spectrum-spectre @epiclazershark @redheadchimechild @steddie-there @gayngerthings @manda-panda-monium [Let me know if you want to be tagged!]

Pin a String to My Chest - 9

Confirmation

"... And that's what she's doing," Steve finished explaining the current supernatural happening, El trying to find Eddie in his own mind.

Wayne took in the explanation silently, as he'd done every other time. If it weren't for El's demonstration earlier, he wasn't sure how believable any of it would be, but Wayne knew they weren't lying.

Or, well, he hoped he did.

The man nodded slowly, fidgeting with the necklace in his hand. Dustin had held onto that pick necklace until he saw Eddie's uncle a day after everything happened, and Wayne hadn't let it go since.

Everyone else had explained what happened since '83. Nancy had said he'd been a little amused by being right about a Creel doing it all, he'd just missed a generation.

He'd also been reasonably horrified when Nancy and Robin talked about Starcourt, but that had been the worst it got until this spring break.

"Say, Harrington," he spoke after a few minutes of radio static filling the room. He didn't take his eyes off of his nephew on the opposite corner of the hospital room. "I reckon I oughta thank you."

Steve turned sharply to face him, frowning in confusion. "What…?"

"I don't think that many people would actually carry my kid out of any kind of situation," he shrugged. "Even before all this."

Steve nodded slowly. "Sir—" A glance from Wayne, eyebrow raised, had him correcting, "Wayne…" He sighed. "Truth is, two weeks ago—" before all of this— "I'm not sure I would have…"

"You didn't know Eddie," he said, as if Steve admitting that he wouldn't have tried to help Eddie somehow was normal. "I mean, you knew of him, what people said about him, just like I knew of you."

He grimaced. Whatever Eddie had told Wayne had come from his highschool years, and Steve knew there wasn't much good there. Or maybe it'd come from later, from the ridiculous amount of first dates. He knew what that looked like.

"It's not all bad, Steve," Wayne reassured, glancing at him with a smile. "Not from Eddie."

The questioning noise that escaped him made Wayne's smile widen.

"Eddie always said, 'Harrington's always tryin' too hard to please someone'." Wayne's impression of Eddie was pretty good, making Steve snort. "He never elaborated on that, by the way, always shrugged it off when I asked what he meant."

Steve looked down, focusing on the spotless tile of the hospital room. "I, uh, I didn't know he noticed that." What else could he say? Eddie apparently had him figured out a long time ago.

"He talks big and he's always been wary," he smirked, "But he's always been curious about people too."

Steve nodded and let the silence settle between them. He didn't know Eddie as well as he'd like to, but hopefully he could remedy that soon… Assuming Eddie would want to hang out, which he also hoped would be the case. Steve had admitted a while ago that he needed a friend his age that wasn't Robin or his ex.

A sniffle came from Eddie's bedside as El took off the bandana from her eyes some time later. Wayne was up and next to her faster than Steve had expected, but he was just a second behind him.

"You okay?" Steve asked, standing behind her chair as El reached to grab a tissue from the table off to the side.

"Yes." Her reply was a little muffled by the tissue. She did her thing a bit longer than usual, but there was no noise of discomfort or any complaints, and her nosebleed wasn't that bad, so he'd let her be while he talked to Wayne. "Sorry, I got distracted."

"Distracted?"

El nodded, tossing the bloodied tissue away. She looked at Wayne with a smile and shiny eyes.

"He is in his memories, so I didn't talk to him," she explained, "But he is resting. He will wake up soon."

It was like the whole room relaxed a little, the air feeling less tense than before. Steve felt his shoulders relax, and it seemed that Wayne's entire body loosened and he held himself upright with his hands on Eddie's bed.

Steve knew from Dustin that he'd been working as little as he could afford to, worried about Eddie and staying at the hospital with him.

El stood slowly, surprising both men by hugging Wayne. She didn't wait for him to return the hug.

"I saw some of his memories," she announced, only letting Wayne go enough to look at his face. "You were in a lot of the good ones."

"Lord knows he didn't get many of those as a kid," he grumbled, his expression creasing with whatever thought he just had.

"He had you," she said, in that firm way she had when no one could really change her mind. It made Steve smile. "I think he is lucky to have you."

Wayne cleared his throat, returning El's hug a little awkwardly.

"Pretty sure he's been my favorite person since he learned to talk," he admitted with a choked laugh. "Only ever stops when he's asleep, and sometimes not even then."

Steve snorted, drawing attention to himself and making El chuckle.

"Yeah, I can see that," Steve said softly. "He always seems to have something to say."

"I'm glad I can help him say some of it," Wayne sighed, looking at Eddie and taking in the visible bandages in his arms and left cheek. His torso had even more bandages hidden under the hospital gown and the thin blanket.

"He is healing. He is safe," El reminded him, as if she could sense where Wayne's thoughts were going. Wayne nodded absently, not taking his eyes off of his nephew. "But you worry, anyway." She was smiling when Wayne looked at her. "You are good for him."

"I try to be," he mumbled, moving to sit on the other side of Eddie's bed.

El nodded, thoughtful for a moment. "You remind me of Hopper." She glanced at Steve before adding, "You two worry a lot."

Wayne frowned, apparently confused by the comparison, and turned to Steve. "Her adoptive father," he explained. Steve could only guess that Wayne filled a fairly similar role in Eddie's life. He had no idea where Eddie's biological father could have been, but the fact the man had taught a kid how to hotwire a car didn't sit well with him.

Before Wayne could reply through his surprise, a knock at the door drew everyone's attention and Hopper poked his head in.

"El, we gotta go." He nodded at Steve and Wayne in acknowledgment and let out a weary sigh when his eyes fell on Eddie. "He okay?"

"He is resting," she replied. El pulled the hood of her jacket over her head, waving to the two of them and following her dad out.

"I should probably go too," Steve said. He'd been the only one in the room in the times he visited Eddie before, and he found El and Hopper at the front desk this morning. He wasn't sure what to say to Wayne now that the silence was settling with no one else in the room to break it. "Let you get some rest."

"Not that these chairs help much with that," Wayne sighed. "But thanks."

Steve nodded, walking to the door with his hands in the pockets of his windbreaker.

"Steve."

He turned back to face Wayne. The man was staring at him with narrowed eyes, looking for something in him.

"Just because you think you wouldn't have saved my nephew before all this," he spoke sternly, "It doesn't make the fact you did it last week any less important, alright?"

Steve nodded, unsure once again of what to say. He wiggled his fingers in a wave and left, Wayne's words bouncing in his head all the way to his big empty house.

[krys-loves-otome]

A Second Glance, Part 4

Rating: Teen (the entire work is marked as Mature, so read the rest at your own risk)

Pairing: Hideyoshi x Preg!Reader

Summary: A look into the aftermath of Chapter 3. There's also a flashback scene at the beginning.

Warnings: Pregnancy, references to and going into light detail about a past character's death, Nobukatsu also has a potty mouth on him so if foul language is something that bothers you, it's here too.

Notes: Adding in a few more people to Nobunaga's family tree as IkeSen canon makes it a little sparse. Added in his nephews Nobukatsu and Nobutaka (who were originally two of his RL sons, but made nephews for the sake of this story) and his little sister Oichi with her daughter.

Part 1 || Part 3

Read A Second Glance all in one place on ao3!

My Fanfic Masterlist

And many thanks to @tsundere-mitsuhide and @scummy-writes for beta-reading for me!

-----

"Thank you for visiting with us, [Name]. It was a pleasure to meet with you again."

Warm rays of spring lit up the flower gardens Nobunaga was sitting in alongside his younger sister, Lady Oichi. He had decided to visit her when she had written to him about her new daughter. He also decided to drag you along for the ride. You both had been too busy to see each other lately, so he claimed the trip for your benefit as well, to cure your loneliness of the time spent apart.

Though the sentiment was nice, you couldn't help but feel the slightest twinge of jealousy (and some other feeling you didn't have a name for then) when you see the usually demonic and ruthless conqueror giving all his attention to the bouncing infant on his knee, letting her touch his cheeks while she giggled and babbled away happily.

"Thank you for inviting us, Lady Oichi," you say, watching as the smirking uncle and his little niece engaged in a fierce staring contest. "I'm surprised he responded to your letter so quickly."

Oichi laughed. "Just Oichi, dear, please."

She glanced at her older brother, a wistful look in her eye.

"Truth be told, I am glad we get along as well as we do. He will never admit to it, and he will call me a silly brat until we both have gray hair and wrinkles, but he has always been there for me when I needed him. He always cared even if he does not always show it."

Oichi frowned.

"Ever since the falling out at Father's funeral, I have not seen much of my other brothers and sister, since I chose to support Nobunaga. We haven't spoken much since then."

"How many other siblings do the two of you have? If I may ask?"

"My brother hasn't told you?"

"It's… never really come up in conversation."

She paused to think.

"As far as I'm aware, two brothers and another sister still live, aside from myself. All of them are older than me while they are all younger than Nobunaga. The most I've heard from my family outside of Nobunaga… was when our sister's sons had reached adulthood recently. I am considering visiting them so they can meet their new cousin."

"Good luck, if you decide to do so." You say, "At least to help patch up those relationships."

"Thank you," Oichi smiled, "I am glad my brother has found someone as kind and reassuring as you."

The heat in your cheeks flared lightly but you smiled along with her nonetheless. Nobunaga smirked, reaching across to bring you in closer to him.

Morning light and chipper birdsong strained Mitsuhide's eyes and ears, not helpful in the least for his pounding head. Though he was fortunate to have a fresh set of clothes and some strong-smelling tea coursing through him, it did little to alleviate his fatigue and overall mood. His feet dragged only a little bit on the hallway floor.

"Good morning, Lord Mitsuhide," Mitsunari, fresh as a spring daisy, greeted with a small nod.

"Morning," he returned half-heartedly, running a hand through his hair, "I'm sure you've heard that Hideyoshi called this emergency meeting because of what happened last night?"

"Yes, I've heard." Mitsunari frowned in thought, "Lord Hideyoshi asked me to look after Lady [Name] so suddenly last night, I didn't have much of a chance to ask him what was going on. All I know is what Lady [Name] knew of the situation."

"Well, the short of it was that there were assassins sent in the night. At least two of them, in fact."

"Two assassins? Lady [Name] had said you had killed one of them."

"The other was lurking nearby. My vassals found him and interrogated him."

"The first one could have had information as well," Mitsunari said, "Why did you-"

"I find men who wander around with unsheathed blades quite uncouth. Especially around unsuspecting little mice and monkeys."

Mitsunari blinked and cleared his throat.

"Then, what did you discover from the other assassin? The one your vassals caught?"

"He was under orders to capture Azuchi's castle chatelaine. Preferably alive but it wasn't a guarantee."

"Do you know who sent him?"

"Not him directly, but his… I guess we'll call him his 'dearly departed comrade', had an Oda insignia on his sword."

"An Oda insignia?" Mitsunari's eyes widened, "but that would mean-"

"Yes. Playtime with the Oda is over, I'm afraid."

"Over Lady [Name]?"

"She seems to have gained their attention without us noticing it. Lucky little Miss Popular."

"But, why?" Mitsunari asked, worried, "Why now? As far as I was aware, the Oda didn't acknowledge her existence, outside of Lady Oichi."

"It is a mystery. Someone must have noticed something was up, especially with Hideyoshi still sitting on his hands."

Mitsunari sighed, looking out at the chirping birds in the nearby trees. A chilly breeze ruffled their feathers, soon snuggling closer together for warmth in their nest.

"…It's been months now."

Mitsuhide gave a sad smile, to no notice of his companion.

"Grief is one of the hardest burdens to bear. Some just have a harder time letting it go than others."

"We can't keep holding it off forever."

"It's still in Hideyoshi's hands, whether we like it or not."

"Can't we just-"

"I've already tried with a threat to sweep the chatelaine away to my own castle. He… didn't take the threat too well." Mitsuhide laughed quietly, "he might have punched me then."

Mitsunari pursed his lips, frowning in thought. He looked Mitsuhide directly in his eyes.

"Would you have taken her if the chance was before you?"

Mitsuhide said nothing, still keeping his smile in place despite Mitsunari's hard stare. Only the bird chatter filled their silence.

After a beat, Mitsuhide chuckled quietly.

"It's getting late. Let's not keep our dear Hideyoshi waiting."

With a reluctant nod, Mitsunari turned away and entered the meeting room. Mitsuhide was slower to follow, watching the dripping icicles in the trees.

"The fox stealing the wife away while the husband sleeps?" he chuckled, his sad smile returning for a brief moment before his usual beguiling smirk took its place, "it’s a silly notion, Mitsunari. A story meant for children to warn them of the villains of the world. It couldn’t happen in real life, after all."

He turned away, facing forward. One of the birds flew away from the nearby nest, gliding into the distance.

Two identical sets of carnelian eyes glared at each other, the fire of anger hotter than any swordsmith's forge. A low guttural growl broke the silence along with a cup slammed on the table, splashing steaming tea.

"Why did you interfere, Nobutaka?!" snarled the scarred man before a poised man with long black hair tied in a low ponytail. "I almost had that bastard monkey! If you had just-"

"Murdering Hideyoshi was not part of the plan, Brother." Nobutaka said calmly, sipping his tea with furrowed eyebrows, "Our only goal in Azuchi was to capture the castle chatelaine. There was no need for bloodshed."

The scarred man, Nobukatsu Oda, huffed bitterly, scratching furiously at his short black hair.

"Why do you care so much about a castle's caretaker? What's so special about a wench that arranges flowers and sorts dainty napkins all day?"

"The fact that she was Uncle Nobunaga's chatelaine is curious. He never had one before, and then she suddenly appeared, as if from the heavens one day."

"Maybe he was really impressed with her decorating skills." Nobukatsu said sarcastically.

"Maybe you should learn to pay more attention," Nobutaka steepled his fingers, his glasses' chain glittering in the sunlight.

"Is it not strange that a woman with no social standing or noble heritage suddenly has the attention of not only Uncle Nobunaga, but his vassals and allies in Oshu and Mikawa? Even his enemies speak well of Uncle's castle caretaker. I find the matter quite intriguing."

"Are you really holding back on killing Hideyoshi just because of some woman you find 'intriguing'? That butt-monkey is still standing in our way of clan leadership! He is also the one stopping us from claiming what rightfully should be ours: Uncle Nobunaga's domain. What in all hells are you waiting for?"

"To see what the monkey does."

"…What?"

"Listen to me, Nobukatsu." He looked straight into his brother's eyes. "The fact that Hideyoshi is stalling for time is also peculiar. He could take the domain for himself, reaping the benefits and no one would bat an eye. But, he hasn't. He also refuses to relinquish it to anyone, Oda or otherwise. So, if he doesn't want to hand Azuchi over to anyone nor does he take the rule for his own benefit, why is he sitting on his hands, wasting everyone's time?"

Nobukatsu was quiet, grumbling as he tried to process his younger brother's implications.

"He's… waiting for the chatelaine… to do something? Since you keep bringing her up, she has to be important for some reason."

"You're catching on." Nobutaka chuckled, "I'm impressed."

"Enough mind games, snot-face. What are you getting at?"

"Again, Hideyoshi, as well as many others in Uncle's circle and outside of it, speak favorably about the castle chatelaine. Hideyoshi refuses to move forward with surrendering Uncle's domain or taking it for himself. My theory is that the chatelaine is carrying Uncle Nobunaga's child and that monkey is waiting to seize the child and name him as Uncle's posthumous heir."

"Wha-What gives that bastard the right to do that? He shouldn't interfere with-"

"Did I also mention that the chatelaine was named an Oda princess?"

"By who!?"

"Uncle Nobunaga, before his unfortunate passing."

"But, she wasn't related to any of us. She didn't wed him or was a named mistress. Hells, Uncle Nobunaga was never married so he couldn't have mistresses to fool around with."

"How quaint of you," Nobutaka continued, "but rumors have spread regardless. Other nobles claim the chatelaine an Oda princess, but can never substantiate their claims, other than what they heard from sources in Azuchi's castle, not from the clan itself."

"So, let me get this straight. You're saying that Uncle Nobunaga possibly knocked up his chatelaine and now Butt Monkey Hideyoshi is gonna try and claim the brat as Uncle Nobunaga's heir after he's already dead because the chatelaine has some fake princess title?"

"That's my theory on the matter."

"It's bullshit."

"I did not ask for your opinion."

"It's bullshit he thinks he can name some random bitch's accident as heir. Is there any proof the little punk's even Uncle Nobunaga's spawn? You did say the chatelaine was 'spoken of highly' in Uncle's circle. Could have screwed one of his vassals and claimed it was Uncle who did it. Could be Butt Monkey's kid for all we know."

"No one will know unless a child suddenly materializes, if my theory is correct."

Nobukatsu grumbled again, glancing out at the dripping icicles.

"So what do we do now, since you're so insistent about not killing the monkey."

"Right now, we wait to see how Hideyoshi responds to our little… message. Hopefully he's not dead, no thanks to you."

"I still think he's better off dead than you doing this song and dance you keep doing. Easier that way."

"I'm trying to be civil, to go about things the right way. Unlike you who bludgeons his way into getting what he wants."

"At least I'm getting results while you sit on your ass drinking tea and playing Go all day. Heh, it's no wonder I'm twenty minutes older than you; you had to sit and think about being born before the midwife pulled you out."

"And you're a crude, boorish oaf who has no patience for anyone." Nobutaka deadpanned "You're a terrible general with a short temper as well."

"And you're lucky you're my brother, else I have half a mind to cut out that tongue of yours."

"Oh, I feel so loved and appreciated in your presence, dear brother." Nobutaka stood, "now get out of my sight. Your entire existence disgusts me."

"Your face disgusts me."

"Your insults are as poor as your provinces."

"They're still bigger than yours."

"Get out of my castle before I throw you out myself!"

"That, I'd like to see." Nobukatsu laughed, standing up, "Go ahead and throw me out, you weakling brat!"

"My lords!" a voice spoke up in the doorway, a servant with a scroll in his hand, "a message has arrived from Azuchi."

"Hopefully good news," Nobutaka spat.

"I'm afraid not, sir," said the servant, handing over the scroll. "Lord Hideyoshi was quite displeased with your threat, as it were."

"Who cares what he thinks," Nobukatsu snorted, "Most aren't exactly itching to be taken out by assassins."

"At least we know he's still alive enough to be irritated." The younger brother read over the message, his eyebrows furrowed. "He also says to not threaten him or Azuchi's safety again, else he will have to take 'drastic actions.'

"Be more than what he's currently doing," Nobukatsu sighed, "now what?"

Nobutaka crumpled the paper in his hand and threw the ball into the fire behind him.

"I think if you want something done right, you'll have to do things yourself. I'm going to Azuchi to see that insufferable primate and Uncle's beloved chatelaine."

"What, to prove your pet theory right?"

"There's a reason the monkey keeps holding Uncle's legacy hostage. If he freely won't give it to us, I say we should go and take it from him."

"Great idea, I'm going with you."

"No, you're not."

"Someone has to save your scrawny ass if a fight breaks out."

"I'm more than capable of protecting myself, thank you."

"No, you're not."

"Says you."

"Says me who has saved your ass more times than he can count, which is pretty high."

"You just want to come along to impale your sword on someone."

"Would you rather I impale you instead?"

Nobutaka sighed.

"Fine, but no killing while we're in Azuchi. This is going to be a scouting mission of sorts. No bloodshed."

"Only if they provoke me first."

"As if that's a difficult task." he sighed, sending his servant away, "whatever will keep you quiet."

Nobutaka stood now, taking his tea cup and walked out of the room as his brother took the opposite direction.

"Azuchi and Uncle's legacy will be in the right hands soon," he said quietly, tightening his hold on his cup, "no matter what stands in my way. No stupid monkeys and certainly no upstart chatelaines will stop me from gaining what’s supposed to be mine."

Cooled tea slid between his fingers, his cup having cracked with the sheer strength of his grip. He threw it against the wall, a satisfying crash resounding in the otherwise silent halls.

Light puffs of smoke floated away into the evening sky, the stars just starting to turn visible. Hideyoshi closed his eyes, sitting on the veranda, the coming night chill not seeming to bother him. He leaned back, feeling every joint voice their discomfort.

With a sigh and another puff on his pipe, he finally noticed you standing a little ways away from him, bundled in a warm haori and holding another dark green one in your hands, neatly folded. Hideyoshi coughed loudly, frantically trying to put out his pipe, erratic smoke puffs escaping his mouth.

"[Name]!" he choked, "What are you doing up? Didn't I already tell you about good sleeping habits starting-"

"Yeah, last night," you said, "right before Mitsuhide gave me a week's worth of nightmare fuel."

"…Nightmare fuel?"

"A-anyway," you continued, "I didn't know how long you were going to be out here, so I brought you a jacket."

"You didn't have to, [Name], I would have been fine without one."

"It's still cold out, Hideyoshi. I'm… We're worried about you. Me and Mitsunari, that is." You handed it to him, standing at his side. "And… they're, they're worried too. We all are."

After a minute's pause, Hideyoshi reluctantly put it on, hiding his hands in the sleeves.

"It's still late," he said, "and it's been a long day. I won't be much longer, promise."

"…Can I stay just for a little longer?" You asked, "They… they've been getting restless lately, especially at night."

"Well, we certainly can't have that, can we?" Hideyoshi sat up straighter, pulling one side of his haori open. "If you're staying, I'm keeping you warm while you're out here. No buts, missy."

You smile and laugh, accepting his offer of shared warmth. You take careful, slow steps on the shallow stairs. Hideyoshi's arm reached out to steady you as you descended. Once you were settled beside him, his arm encircled your shoulders with a comfortable amount of his haori covering you.

"Warm enough?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you."

He nodded, turning his gaze back to the darkening sky, the stars becoming clearer and brighter.

"It's funny," he said quietly, "holding you like this to keep warm, it reminds me of my early days of serving Lord Nobunaga."

You looked up at him, hoping this was the famous story from your time, of Hideyoshi and Nobunaga's sandals.

"I was… young and overly eager to please him, as he had given me my second chance at life. I was about to do anything if it would please him."

He paused while you waited in anticipation, watching his cheeks turn pink in embarrassment.

"Including… putting his sandals in my kimono… to warm them for him."

You snickered while he sighed.

"It was a long time ago, [Name]."

"I think it was sweet of you, thinking of his comfort like that."

"He laughed and called me a stupid monkey."

"It wasn't stupid at all!" you giggled.

"Now you're just being nice, [Name]," Hideyoshi grumbled.

You snuggled in closer, pulling your shared haori closer.

"…I dreamed of him last night," you said softly, frowning, "I think he was trying to warn me."

"Warn you?"

"He tried to but… there wasn't any sound in the dream," you paused, "save for one. When… when he was struck from behind and…"

You shivered. Hideyoshi held you closer.

"I should apologize to you," Hideyoshi said, clenching his fist. "iIf I had been faster, stronger… I could have reached you sooner. Hearing you scream like that, fearing I was too late… seeing Lord Nobunaga falling to the ground… I didn't know what was happening anymore… just that I was seeing red."

"Hideyoshi…"

"You… you were clinging to him so tightly, refusing to let him go. I… I held both of you in my arms, his blood was coating both of us… I… I was ready to kill Masamune and Mitsuhide for trying to separate all of us… and Ieyasu because he was touching you… to remove you from us… I … that day still haunts me."

His eyes were hard, lost in the memory of that day. It had been hard on everyone, the hardest to the two of you. A hollow victory with the biggest loss to all involved. You reached for his hand, both of your chilled fingers seeming to bring him back to the present. He gave an apologetic smile.

"See, I really have kept you out here too long. Your hands are frozen!"

He slipped his arms out of his haori, giving his remaining warmth to you while rubbing his hands over yours.

"C'mon, let's get you inside," he insisted while standing up, "I'll make you some tea and we'll get you some warm covers to sleep under. Four should be good. Or would five be better?"

One hand over yours, the other at your back to keep you steady on the steps, Hideyoshi held you securely despite his frigid fingers, making sure you safely made it onto the landing first, making you temporarily taller than him.

You turned towards him, his nose and cheeks red from the cold, sure to be matching your own, much to Hideyoshi's dismay.

Before he could climb to your side, however, you leaned towards him, touching dry and cold-chapped lips together with his. The tobacco still lingered on him, you noticed.

Hideyoshi froze, eyes wide open in surprise. When you pulled back for air, though his cheeks were warmer, his eyes, once again, filled with sadness. He let out a breath.

"Inside, [Name]," he left no room for argument. "Now."

[bloodyquillink-blog]

Sugar and Lemon, Chapter 1

A/N🪶: Putting this here while I try to find the time to write chapter 5, no changes. If I miss anything in the tags, feel free to let me know so i can update them. Also, Chapter 1 does not have a title so I’m just leaving it as “Chapter 1”. Enjoy!

Warnings: Fluff, Meet-Cute, Post-Canon, Mild Swearing, Selectively Mute!Logan Walker, Cafe Owner!gn!Reader, They/Them and “You” used for Reader, Implication of Trauma, mentions of therapy

Word Count: 2.3K

The fresh air was nice.

Granted, the amount of people out and about today was a little stressful. It was instinct to try to remember all of their faces and analyze their clothing for the Federation insignia or concealed weapons, even after three years in a ditch. There was still concern, reasonably, but the civilians seemed safe. Happy, even. When was the last time these civilians actually looked and felt happy? Logan shook that thought out of his head and continued walking alongside Hesh- er, David. Today was supposed to be a day of relaxation away from their duties and therapy sessions. He should savor it, he thought. Have something nice to write in the prescribed “victory journal” his therapist had given him.

“When you experience something that makes you feel good,” they explained, ”Write it down with as much detail as you please. Write why it made you feel good, but do your best to keep negative thoughts away from it. Give yourself something positive to hold onto, whether it’s a physical tangible object or a moment in time.”

In all honesty, it helped a bit. Granted there wasn’t much to write outside of the base, but Logan was still thankful. He remembered the day he, David, Riley and even Keegan had gone out for a break. They found a relatively grassy area that must’ve been a park or playground if the small baseball diamond that was definitely meant for kids said anything. The three men threw the dirty old tennis ball around and occasionally ran while Riley chased them until they threw it to another person. After a bit of playing, they had to wrangle Riley away from a raccoon. Thank whoever for replanting trees and preventing Riley from getting a new black, gray and red chew toy.

After that was the night him, David, Riley, Keegan, Kick and, most surprisingly, Merrick went to a less depressing looking beach. He nearly didn’t go but Keegan reassured him that if it would help, he would “handcuff all of them together”, like a fucked up friendship circle. That was the first time in a while he laughed at something, first time in a while the Ghosts had heard him laugh. If David had a victory journal too, that moment probably went right into his journal that same night. What Logan wrote about, though, was when the clouds parted while they all lay on the sand together and they saw the stars with a new clarity. At one point, there was a shooting star, passing right through a constellation. It was only then Keegan corrected everyone that it was the Little Dipper, not the Big Dipper. 

“Big Dipper, Little Dipper, what’s the difference other than size? Do you need someone to remind you that size doesn’t matter, Keegs?”, Kick joked.

“Kid, if anything, I think you’d need that reminder.”

That prompted a wrestling match that Merrick couldn’t be bothered to deal with… for about 15 seconds. The three ended up missing the second shooting star that, this time, passed through the Big Dipper. Rather than say anything, the two brothers just looked at each other and chuckled. While Merrick continued his attempts to separate or, from what it sounded like, beat the living shit out of Kick and Keegan like the captain he was, David asked something.

“Think that was Mom and Dad?”

And Logan responded.

“Yeah. Probably.”

It wasn’t like they were still children. It wasn’t like they didn’t know what shooting stars were. But the idea was nice to hold onto. It comforted them both. 

“Mom never liked letting us out of her sight. Never wanted to miss a special moment.” David mentioned.

“…Dad always said he’d follow her anywhere if he could.” Logan continued.

That moment lasted not even a minute longer before Merrick’s captain’s voice boomed to get moving. With that, the group got up but not before a picture was taken. One of the few each of them had without their masks and face paint, now in a small white envelope with the picture side against a square of a mylar sheet, all contained in a paper pocket on the last page of the hardcover victory journal.

The journal that now resided under Logan's arm as the brothers continued their walk down the street. The plants that had grown over many of the buildings had been torn down. Any surviving floors of multi-level buildings stayed with minor renovations while any that were unrepairable unless you tore the whole building down were chipped away at. Aside from that, restaurants returned, the post office was open and the sky wasn’t filled with helicopters. Logan avoided thinking about how many people could be killed if the Federation pushed an airstrike or if soldiers appeared from the roofs, weapons hot. Instead, he kept his focus on following Hesh. Slowing down when he did, moving around a fire hydrant or an older couple looking at a giant menu displayed outside open doors. They stopped in front of an intersection.

“Could’ve sworn Kick said the place was around here somewhere.” David thought as he scratched the back of his neck. “Called ‘Morning Routine’ or something?” David looked over to see Logan gesturing past him on the other side of the street. “There we go.” They continued once the light turned, taking a quick glance at the small blackboard sign sitting near the entrance. “‘Hot and creamy drinks with a side of sexy scones’,” David read, “Subtle.”. As they walked in, the gentle waft of fresh coffee and cinnamon floated through their noses. They both inhaled and sighed. Despite the sizeable, and rather tasteless, meal they had earlier in the morning, their stomachs grumbled.

They slid into a cushioned booth, looking over the usual options on the laminated sheets of paper framed on the wall against the table. Most of it was coffee, which was to be expected.

“Probably wouldn’t be good for your anxiety.” David mumbled.

“Wouldn’t be good for yours either.” Logan shot back with a smirk. David glanced at his brother, a smile slowly lifted the corners of his mouth.

“Heh, Keegan’s smartass-edness is really rubbing off on you, huh?”

“Maybe a little.”

Their eyes went back to the menu. A sandwich and some chips sounded nice. Logan’s stomach growled again. Maybe two sandwiches.

“Know what you want?” David asked.

“The, uh,” Logan did a small double take at the name, “’CrissCross’ sounds good.”

“The ’CrissCross’?”

Logan pointed at one of the three menu pages in the frame.

“Ciabatta bread, roast beef, tomatoes and shredded mozzarella, that does sound good. I might try a bite if you get it.”

“Of mine?”

“Yeah.”

“Why not just get your own?”

“‘Cuz I’m getting,” David looked at the menu again, “‘The Lottery BLT’. ‘Sandwich of champions and very hungry customers’.”

It was Logan’s turn to look back at the menu, briefly reconsidering his choice at David’s expense. His brother observed him, probably aware of the choices swimming in his head.

“You can try mine and I’ll try yours.” David compromised. Logan nodded and got up to order. David almost stopped him, but instead stopped himself. If Logan was feeling comfortable doing this himself off of base, that was good. At the very least worth a try. David knew he’d be here if Logan needed help and vice-versa. He just had to let him try. He sighed and leaned back against the cushioned booth.

Logan walked up to the counter closest to them. There was a small board beside another menu that pointed toward slips of paper and a pencil. “A Silent Solution!”, the board read. He was confused, to say the least. Solution to what? Was this like a complaint box but more open? Where would the paper go if there was no box? Wouldn’t other customers see the complaints? Wouldn’t that ruin their experience too? He didn’t notice you walking towards him.

“Hello, sir! Do you need any help?” You asked, the kindness in your voice one of the first things he could feel. The second thing was that you had a very nice smile, the third thing was your hair, the fourth being your eyes. So pretty and bright. The fifth thing he noticed was his own staring. He snapped out of the daze, remembering the food. His voice wasn’t working. Not the way he intended at least. Fuck. He was left only saying “uh” and “um” and whatever other variations slipped out. He looked at the board and paper again. Thank the Lord, you caught on.

“Oh, this is for people who are mute or just don’t feel like talking. They can write down their order here for me and I’ll get it set up in the register. Do you need a moment to write it down?” He nodded, jaw clenching as he gave as much of a smile as he could muster without being creepy. You nodded and went to another register where a customer waited. Logan immediately got to writing, glancing back at you every once in a while. He almost forgot what his brother was ordering. He finished writing, folded the paper and stood back up from his hunched over position just as you walked back. He handed the little note to you. You recited the order, typing on the screen while Logan pulled out his wallet.

“Alrighty, you can insert your card here.” He nodded and did as you said. “Oh, did you want a drink with that? I can also just give you water, it comes with the meal.” He nodded again. “And finally, can I get a name?” He paused for a moment. Fuck, he still couldn’t talk. Now was not the time to talk. What if you thought he was weird? What if-

“Oh, here’s the paper and a pencil. Sorry!” Oh… yeah, the paper. Logan wrote his name down… his full name. Good lord, you didn’t need his full name but the pencil didn’t have an eraser. Maybe he should just rip that part off. No, but that was still weird. Dammit, maybe he should’ve stayed home-

“There we go, Logan. I’ll let you know when that’s ready!” You smiled at him.

Nevermind.

He smiled back and walked back to the table clenching his fists. Once sat, Logan put his face in his hands as David looked up from his phone. Likely having texted Keegan about their outing.

“You okay, Logan?” He asked. He already sounded concerned. Logan just slowly nodded, face still buried in his hands. He looked up after a moment, taking a deep breath in.

David stared for a second. Logan was blushing. His face wasn’t too far from looking like a tomato. Last time that happened was in grade school. He was also avoiding eye contact with David. David followed his gaze and looked at the counter. He smirked. There wasn’t a problem, no impending panic attack or near-death experience. Just a cute person.

“Is it the person at the register or the person ordering or the old man waiting behind them?” He asked quietly, smugness palpable in his voice. Logan deadpanned at his brother who laughed. “Okay, register person?” Logan looked back at you. The redness on his face returned. He looked at his hands, rubbing them, trying to soothe himself. “We should come back tomorrow with the guys, I know they’ll wanna see this.” Logan glared at his brother whose smirk grew by the second, now he spoke up.

“I don’t even know if they’ll be here tomorrow.”. You probably would be but Logan just didn’t want to think about the jokes that all of them would make about him. He could already hear the teasing and Merrick’s classic “when I was your age” stories. David was typing on his phone. Logan reached for it. “You better not be telling them about it.”.

David dodged his brother’s hand. “No but I am looking at the website and uh,” He chuckled and showed Logan the screen. Any redness drained from Logan’s face. “Apparently, they’re the owner so they’ll likely be here as long as it’s open hours.”. Logan sighed as David continued looking through the website and sending the link to Keegan. As Logan tried to relax himself, the order for them was called. He looked up to see you smiling at him and waving him over. Logan tapped David’s arm and tilted his head towards the counter as he got up. They picked up their plates and drinks, David watching Logan smile at you and managing to mouth “thank you” before coming back. Oh, he liked you, and David was gonna do what he could to make sure you saw him after today. He would think of all the ways to do that after they ate though. 

The boys did their best not to scarf their sandwiches down but holy shit, was that better than anything they’ve had on base and during missions. They shared bites and ultimately decided to trade one half of their sandwiches with the other. Damn, you made delicious food. Maybe Logan would come back again, maybe even on his own or with Riley. He wondered if you liked dogs and if you’d like seeing him again. He’d just have to find out.

Once the meal was over, they neatly stacked their plates in the dish return area and wiped leftover crumbs off the table. Heading to the door, David turned around. “Thanks for the food, we’ll be back soon!” You smiled at them and waved at Logan.

“Glad you liked it. See you next time, Logan!” Logan waved as he continued walking before he almost blue-screened. You said his name specifically. Maybe because you didn’t know David’s name but… his name sounded nice coming from you. David slung his arm around his brother’s shoulder and kept walking. David noticed it too. The two brothers walked with a smile on their faces and bellies full. The blush was coming back to his face and his thoughts came back to you.