#'before i met you there was nothing' the love contained within that statement too

[snowbellecity]

this is so crazy 💔

[scxrlettwxtches]

a crown of thorns | hwang hyunjin

genre: royal au, fluff/angst, fem!reader

warnings: pregnancy, slight violence

description: a few years have passed since your tumultuous beginnings with the enemy king, hwang hyunjin, and to everyone’s astonishment, your marriage flourished with an abundance of love. however, this was not yet a happy ever after, and danger still lurks within every corner of your peaceful kingdom.

word count: 14.0k+

a/n: ack the more i read this, the worse it seems to get haha. but guys!! this is my last fic on this blog!! thank you again for all the love you’ve shown me and my writing. <3 wishing everyone all the best!! 

As he sat on his throne, absently chatting away with foreign envoys, Hwang Hyunjin considered himself rather lucky for a multitude of reasons.

All the princes and the lords sitting around the table, enjoying the tea and pastries, had everything one could want in the world. Endless fountains of wealth, resources, luxury. Whatever they desired, they only needed to snap their fingers, and someone would provide. It was the type of life many in his kingdom could only dream about in their wildest fantasies.

But, underneath the splendor, Hyunjin could see it as bright as day. Beneath the material luxury was discontentment, unease, unhappiness. Many of them were married to people that they did not love, were tied to their own wealth as it was the only sense of stability in their lives. And above all, Hyunjin could sense their loneliness, the invisible--yet deadly--disease that latched onto the heart and knawed at it until it was nothing but a shriveled remain. It was a poison that had no identifiable cure, and its affects only magnified as time went on.

Hyunjin could see it all because, once upon a time, he was just like them. Sitting on the throne, he was merely staring at reflections of his past self, a shell of a boy that was forced into a position of power too soon with too few people he could trust. He saw himself in the young lord that was visiting from across the sea, his eyes alight with ambition and a thirst to prove himself. He saw himself in the crown prince of the neighboring kingdom, the mistrust laced in every sip he took of his tea. He was like that once: scared, angry, betrayed, and alone.

But with a strange twist of fate, his life changed for the better. He found people he could trust. He met the love of his life. Unbelievably, he even married her, slowly earning her respect and eventually, her heart. And now, Hwang Hyunjin was no longer the boy with a crown too heavy and a life too lonely. He had people he cared about deeply, he had people he wanted to protect with his whole being. Especially…

“Papa! Papa!”

Hyunjin’s ears perked up as the large, ornate wooden doors of the hall creaked open ever so slightly, and a pitter patter of frantic footsteps bounded into the throne room. Almost immediately, he felt a smile grace his face, all the tension draining out of his posture as he gazed at the little girl, his darling daughter. 

Even the most stone-hearted envoys and esteemed guests could not hide their smiles as the girl ran excitedly towards her father, “Papa!” She giggled again, clumsily climbing up the steps to the throne.

Hyunjin’s heart fluttered with pride as he watched his daughter clamber up the marble steps, and for a split second, the image of her sitting on the throne as the next queen flashed across his mind. One baby step at a time, he reminded himself, and he stood up, easily picking up the girl as she gripped onto his sleeves.

“Naeun,” he brushed the baby hairs out of her face and smiled at her rosy cheeks. Time and time again, he was reminded of how much his daughter had begun to resemble the both of you. She had his doe eyes, but her smile, that was all you. 

The meeting became completely irrelevant to Hyunjin as he lavished all of his attention on her, “What are you doing here?”

Naeun, who was breathing heavily from all the running she had done, huffed and pouted rather sternly, “Mama said that if you stay in the office all night again, mama will dwag you back to the bedwoom.” 

Hyunjin fought the urge to laugh, utterly charmed by Naeun’s petulant words. How hard had she prepared to relay such a fiery message? He climbed up the remaining steps with the girl in his arms and sat back down comfortably on the throne, gently placing her on his lap.

“Papa is very sorry,” he said solemnly, bringing her little hand to his lips so he could kiss the back of it, making her giggle and squirm, “Did your mama send you here to tell me that?”

“Nope! But mama miss you!” Naeun replied brightly, and by this point, none of the guests were able to hide their endeared smiles and chuckles. Hyunjin felt a strange rush of both protectiveness and pride as he observed how easily Naeun had stolen the spotlight in the room with her joy and her innocence. It must be a father instinct that he was beginning to develop.

“Ah, mama misses me?” Hyunjin didn’t even know his heart was capable of containing such unbridled happiness and love as he smiled at his daughter. Naeun nodded firmly, and Hyunjin rubbed her back as he smoothed down her pretty princess dress, making sure she was comfortable before addressing the guests.

“My apologies for the interruption,” he said with perfect politeness, ever the ideal host. As expected, not many people were even the slightest bit annoyed by the disturbance, and they all waved off his apology, continuing the casual conversations about trade, finances, and commerce.

When it was all over, and Hyunjin was finally able to adjourn with all meetings and any other activities he’d scheduled to entertain his foreign guests, he eagerly walked down the hallways to the royal chambers, with Naeun safely nestled in his arms.

“Papa?”

“Yes, my little one?” He replied, letting her rest her chin on his shoulder.

“What’s fin..finan…” Naeun’s face scrunched up with effort as she tried to put the word back together from her memory. 

Hyunjin smiled fondly; he’d noticed her eagerly listening during the meeting, trying to soak in all the new knowledge that was coming her way. Naeun was good at de-escalating tensions, especially when she did her usual thing of barging into meetings without a care in the world, but Hyunjin also liked to let her stay in meetings because the little toddler seemed genuinely interested. She never seemed like she wanted to be anywhere else, only blinking from person to person with her large doe eyes. 

“Finance?” He supplied helpfully, and Naeun nodded into his shoulder, “It’s grown up stuff.”

“I like grown up stuff,” Naeun said with all the seriousness that a three year old could muster.

Hyunjin laughed, “I know you do, petal,” he hummed, thinking of a good way to explain the concept, “You know when you like to play house with your dolls and Uncle Changbin?”

Naeun immediately brightened at that. She loved playing house with Uncle Changbin! He was always a bit grumpy, a bit reluctant, but they always had a great tea party whenever her mama and papa were busy. 

“Mhm!”

“And you always like to trade certain dolls for the dolls that Changbin brings?” Hyunjin asked. Once again, he felt enormous gratitude to his personal commander, Seo Changbin, for going beyond the responsibilities of duty to take care of Naeun. As much as you and Hyunjin tried however you could to make time for her, with royal duties, parties, meetings, and work, it was just impossible to spend large amounts of time with your lovely daughter.

“Mhm! Uncle Changbin brings pwetty dolls!” Naeun nodded.

Hyunjin felt the smile grow on his face as he held her in his arms. He’d been smiling more often ever since Naeun was born, “Exactly. And you always have to give a few of your old ones to get the new, right? Or choose a few toys to give to Uncle Changbin so he can donate them to the capitol orphanages?”

Naeun only nodded curiously. 

“That, in a way, is finance. Of course, it’s a little more boring than trading dolls, though,” Hyunjin tickled her tummy with his finger, distracting her as she wiggled and squealed. Truth be told, Hyunjin didn’t want Naeun to grow up so quickly, even if that was all she wanted to do. Hyunjin didn’t remember anything from his childhood except textbooks, lectures, and a crushing pressure from his father and mother to live up to their expectations. He would never wish that upon his daughter.

After one more turn around the corner, they finally arrived at the Royal Chambers, with Changbin and Felix standing guard on both sides of the entrance. 

“Hi, Uncle Changbin! Hi, Uncle Lixie!” Despite their attempts to teach Naeun royal protocol about how to address the Kingsguard, she had little regard for it, opting to wave from the safety of her father’s arms. 

Changbin’s normally passive, almost grumpy expression melted ever so slightly as he waved back at her.  Despite his constant statements about not wanting to marry and not wanting to start a family, having Naeun made Hyunjin realize that his commander was surprisingly good with children. But if anyone so much as mentioned it, Changbin would deny any evidence of such allegations. Felix, on the other hand, was absolutely besotted with the little girl and made no attempts to hide it.

“Hi, little princess!” He smiled, opening the doors to the most private section of the palace. Hyunjin chuckled, nodding respectfully to both men before walking in. 

“Now, where’s your mama?” Hyunjin murmured. Of course, you were supposed to be in the bedroom, but Hyunjin knew you better than that. 

Naeun giggled, as if she knew you were breaking some sort of rule, and pointed to the study, “There!” 

“Thank you, petal,” Hyunjin booped her nose fondly before walking into the study, creaking the door open slowly as not to startle you. 

Every time his eyes fell to you, he would be swept with a newfound love that was stronger and more powerful than the time before. Even though your back was turned slightly away, and he could only see the slight curve of your lips and the profile of you from the side, Hyunjin knew without a doubt that you were the most beautiful woman in the world. 

You didn’t seem to notice your family walking in, lost in thought as you stared at the window, a piece of parchment in your hand. Hyunjin smiled, knowing how concentrated you can get when it came to state affairs. He put a finger to his lips, indicating to his daughter to be quiet. Naeun covered her mouth with her little hands, nodding as he very gently placed her on the fluffy carpet so she could play with the toys on the ground.

“I believe the doctor’s orders were for you to stay in bed?” Hyunjin murmured softly as he gently draped a woolen shawl over your shoulders, his arms snaking around you from behind. Maybe you did know he was around, since you didn't seem startled by his presence and only smiled as his hands rested on your tummy.

“We have guests in our palace. How can I stay in bed when there’s so much to do?” You replied, leaning into his arms and physically relaxing against him.

“You can just leave the work to me,” Hyunjin pouted a little, feeling guilty that he wasn’t able to handle the entire burden of royal duties. He couldn’t when you were pregnant with Naeun, and he couldn’t now. His hands rubbed your tummy through the silk nightgown as he gently placed his chin on your shoulder, murmuring, “It’s not good for the baby…”

Every time Hyunjin touched your tummy, it made you airy with disbelief and awe at how fortunate you were to have him. When you were a princess, long long ago, you’d never expected yourself to look forward to starting a family. But with Hyunjin, Naeun brought so much joy in your lives that neither of you could help but want another, and your prayers were answered when you became pregnant again around the time Naeun turned three. 

Part of why you were willing was because it awed you every time you saw how much Hyunjin cared. You knew how kings were, always drowning in their work, their duty, which always led them to crave independence, and then occasionally, turning to other women than their lawful wife. You knew that was the norm. Care, much less love, was something that royal women would be lucky to have.

Yet, Hyunjin gave it to you in the spades. Hyunjin cared, Hyunjin loved so much. You saw it every time he looked at you, you saw it every time he would gingerly place the crown upon your head before formal gatherings. You saw it every time he’d keep you close at parties, made sure everyone knew how much he valued you and your opinion. You saw it every time he looked at Naeun, his eyes sparkling with childlike wonder that could only be reflected in your daughter’s own eyes.

And now, with the two of you expecting another child, you saw it in his fretting, his worrying, his constant attempts to keep you safe and healthy, even if he was a little overbearing.

“The doctor never said a little bit of work would harm the baby,” you pointed out, tilting your head back to look into his eyes as you cupped his cheek, “I’m checking myself, I promise.”

“I’m sure you are,” Hyunjin chuckled, and he could no longer stop himself, his lips pressing against  yours in a gentle kiss as he hugged you. You only hummed happily against his lips, enjoying the moment when you were suddenly interrupted.

“Yuckie!” Naeun squeaked out, causing both of you to pull away with a laugh. The princess was sitting on the ground with a soft plushie in her arms as she looked at her parents with disgust.

You burst into giggles, pulling away from Hyunjin to walk over to her, “Yuckie? It’s yuckie that your parents are in love?” You asked teasingly, pinching her cheek. Naeun giggled, trying to run away as Hyunjin suddenly lifted her up from behind, placing her in his lap.

“Kisses are yuckie!” She squealed, making both of you laugh as Hyunjin tickled her tummy.

Hyunjin smiled, chuckling, “Don’t ever let me catch you kissing someone else,” he warned. In all honesty, the idea of his precious daughter falling in love made his blood boil unreasonably. Especially in the royal realm, it was so hard to determine which ones were good and which ones were only hiding behind the mask of benevolence. Just the thought of Naeun falling in love, Naeun getting her heart broken by some good for nothing prince…

“My love,” Hyunjin’s eyes widened as he felt a gentle hand on his arm. You smiled fondly, almost as you already knew exactly what he was thinking, as you always did, “Baby steps, alright? She’s not at that age yet.”

“Baby steps!” Naeun chorused, although oblivious to the conversation at hand. 

Hyunjin felt himself relax, and he engulfed his daughter in a big hug, letting her snuggle into his chest, “Yes, baby steps,” he murmured as he left a kiss in her hair.

.

“What do you mean, they won’t allow it?” You asked angrily, following Hyunjin into his study as he ran a frantic hand through his hair.

Hyunjin sank into his chair, frustration clear in his face as he glanced up at you, “The letter from the council came back. Apparently, there were some strong voices of protest, and eventually they decided to rule against it. They won’t accept Naeun as the heir.”

“That’s ridiculous!” You snapped, feeling steam practically radiating from your ears, “She’s the eldest child, our first born! They've had three years to observe her, and she's performed well in all subjects. She’s practically a genius!" 

You whirled around, tightening the shawl around your frame as you made up your mind to go to the council yourself when Hyunjin rushed over, intercepting you as he gently grabbed your arms, “Y/N, my darling,” you shook your head, not in the mood for his cajoling and gentle attention.

“I’m going to talk to them. They were relenting a couple months ago! I don’t see why--”

“Hey, hey, breathe,” Hyunjin’s voice was suddenly stern, his hands running up and down your back to soothe you, “Calm down, love. Please. Think of the baby.”

You froze, the fight beginning to drain out of you as you tried to take deep breaths. Hyunjin’s hand trailed to your wrist, subtly taking note of your pulse to ensure that you were still alright. 

“I know you’re angry. So am I,” Hyunjin spoke, stepping closer to you and cupping your face in his gentle hands. Your eyes closed at his touch, feeling his warm embrace as his comforting presence, “But we need to deal with this slowly. There are foreign envoys still here, remember? We can’t go barging around the palace like we normally do, not until they leave.”

You huffed, knowing that Hyunjin was right, but still feeling churlishly angry at the news, “So we just wait?”

“We’ll discuss it once more when the council meeting is held again,” Hyunjin suggested, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, “I’m sure they’ll cave. Naeun is a perfect contender, the perfect candidate for the next heir. She’s just not what they’re used to.”

“And what are they used to? A son?” You said mockingly, your anger fueled by the ridiculous laws that were still in place. Your kingdom had long since done away with such petty things as male only rules, but it seemed like Hyunjin's kingdom was a little more traditional. 

“Yes, and you know how stubborn they are about it” Hyunjin murmured, palming your stomach, “They’re waiting for this little one.”

“They don’t even know if it’s going to be a boy,” you scoffed, but you could feel yourself relaxing in Hyunjin’s arms. The two of you were so alike and yet so different. Hyunjin was the cooling water to your raging firestorm. And you were the spark that light his ice cold heart alight with love for the first time all those years ago.

Hyunjin hummed at your comment, gently nuzzling his nose against your cheek, “I think it will be. Otherwise, I'd be awfully outnumbered in this family,” he said softly, kissing your cheek as he continued, “But no matter. I still want my precious Naeun to be the crown princess. The council just has stick up their ass.”

“Hyunjin!” You slapped his arm, pulling away to walk towards his study, sitting in the chair as you felt the baby kick once again.

The king only laughed at your glare, immediately rushing to your side as he took your hand, “The baby’s bothering you again, huh?” He asked, his eyes filled with wonder as he stared at your tummy. It was a silent, yet rather apparent question to you, asking whether he had permission to touch. It was almost adorable how childishly excited Hyunjin would get at the thought of his own children.

You gently placed his hand over the fabric of your dress, right over where you’d felt a slight kick just before, “It’s not a bother,” you said gently, “How can it be a bother when it reassures me that our child is safe and healthy?”

Hyunjin’s expression was nothing short of entranced as he felt a push against the palm of his hand, “I love you,” he murmured as he glanced at you, and he leaned forward to press his cheek against your tummy, to which you only smiled fondly and ran a hand through his hair.

“I love them, too,” he spoke to your stomach, as he had no doubt that your unborn child would hear it and know just how much their father cared.

The two of you stayed in that position, basking in the monetary relaxation for a moment longer, your hands gently running through his hair as he rested his head on your lap. It was definitely not a position that either of you would want to be caught in, but Hyunjin found himself rather fond of it, being able to let go of his responsibilities and rely on you for comfort without being anxious. 

You sat for a moment longer before a particular piece of parchment on Hyunjin's desk caught your eye, and you quickly reached for it as your husband continued to rest comfortably on your lap.

“There’s a party tomorrow night?” You asked, scanning the contents over as your free hand gently carded through his hair.

“Mhm, the envoys are leaving the morning after, so it has to be grand,” Hyunjin mumbled lazily in return, his eyes shut from mild exhaustion.

You hummed, putting the parchment down as you said softly, “If it’s the final dinner, shouldn’t I be there? I haven’t seen any of our guests except on the first day. It would be impolite if I missed the last event, too.”

“No,” Hyunjin’s grip tightened imperceptibly as he gently held your waist, lifting his head up to meet your eyes, “They understand your situation. It’s only natural that you haven’t been at all the events,” he said firmly, his hand absently moving towards your stomach.

“It’s still impolite. I should probably go,” you said softly, resting your hand over his, “We don’t want our guests to leave with a bad taste in their mouth.” 

Hyunjin looked uncertain, his eyes pleading with you as he pressed his lips to your knuckles, “If something happens…”

“Nothing will happen, my darling,” you cooed, trying to reassure your love as you sensed his fear. Hyunjin, underneath his cold words and powerful gaze, was just as human as any other man.

“It’s just a party. I won’t even dance, alright?” You continued with a cajoling smile, brushing your thumb against his cheek bone, “I just have to be there, Hyunjin. It’s my duty.” 

Hyunjin’s eyes fluttered shut as he melted against your touch, leaning his cheek into your hand and sighing softly, “I know I can’t change your mind,” he said, “You’re just stubborn like that, and I love it more than you know. But it scares me so much.” 

“It scares you?” You repeated his words, waiting patiently for him to elaborate. 

The king nodded, looking so vulnerable in your arms that you were afraid he’d break, “What if something happens? What if, one day, you overestimate yourself and you lose the baby? Or worse,” Hyunjin kissed your palm, holding your wrist in his hand as he gazed upon you with more pain in his eyes than you’ve ever seen.

“What if I lose you, too?”

Your heart shattered at the fear and the sheer amount of unconditional love that glistened in his eyes whenever they met yours, “Oh, Hyunjin,” you sighed, leaning forward to be closer to him, “It won't come to that.”

But Hyunjin couldn't hear reason at this point, frightening himself as he held your hand, “I can't rule this kingdom without you, without your love. You're the first happiness I've ever had in this lifetime.” 

“Hyunjin, you can and you have,” you argued, reaching to lace your fingers with his, “You were ruling wonderfully before we met.”

“It's not the same, darling, and you know it,” Hyunjin answered, kissing the pulse point of your wrist daintily, “You made me a better person and a better king.”

You couldn't help but smile adoringly, reaching your other hand to run your fingers through his soft hair, “I'm glad. You made my life happier than I ever dreamed it could be.”

Hyunjin sighed, melting into your touch. As always, he felt weightless in your arms, free of burden and responsibility. He didn't have to think of anything but you and him.

But alas, there was still a problem at hand. 

“Do you really want to attend the party?” He asked softly into the fabric of your dress, one of the comfortable ones he'd ordered to be specially made for you when the two of you discovered that you were expecting a second time.

“I do, Hyunjin. I think it's best that I take my place beside you, at least once before they leave. It'll quell any rumors about us and about my supposed ill health,” you explained your reasoning, understanding Hyunjin’s doubts but still feeling strongly about going all the same.

Hyunjin’s eyes opened slowly and he nodded in resignation as he stood up, “Alright. I won't stop you. But, my love, at least let me assign Changbin and Felix to you as your guards for the night.”

“Both of them?” You asked, standing up slowly to maintain your balance. Hyunjin didn't leave your side for a moment, holding your arm in case you fell, “Isn't that a bit much?” 

“It would make me less anxious to know you're well guarded,” Hyunjin pleaded with you, fixing the shawl around your shoulders as the two of you walked out of the study. It was already quite late in the evening, with Naeun having been sent to bed long before. 

Your fingers intertwined naturally, and the two of you headed to your chambers, ready for a long night's rest, “Alright, assign both of them to me,” you relented, “I still think it’s a bit overkill.”

“You’d be walking around the town without a single guard if we went with what you thought was overkill,” Hyunjin chuckled, beginning to shed his uniform.

“Not true,” you protested weakly as you climbed into bed, already in your nightgown.

Hyunjin joined you soon after, engulfing you in his arms and his comforting scent as you let out a sigh of contentment, burrowing in his embrace, “Let’s get some rest, alright?” You said, sleepiness laced in your voice as you hummed softly, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, my darling,” Hyunjin murmured his response without a moment of hesitation, as if he’d been waiting all his life to tell you, “so much.”

.

Parties were hectic enough already, even more so when you had a hyperactive toddler to manage on top of the plethora of things that could already go wrong, from the banquet food to the entertainment. 

"Weeee!" Naeun squealed, running around the bedroom like a madman and trying to escape changing into her party dress. 

Before she could slip away, you managed to snag an arm around her waist, lifting her into your arms with a grunt, “Where do you think you're going, little princess?”

Naeun pouted, whining as she wiggled in your grasp, “Want to go play! Want to find papa!” She said with a huff. 

“Papa is busy right now,” you said patiently as you gently plopped her on the bed, trying to help her out of her nightgown while Naeun fussed, obviously not wanting to do as she was told.

“But I want to play with papa!” She protested as she eventually lifted her arms, letting you help her change. 

You sighed as you helped her into the beautiful golden dress, the fabric laced with ruffles and sparkling thread that was fit for any little princess.

“Papa is a little busy, alright?” You spoke gently, trying to make your lecture sound less like a scolding and more of an explanation, “There have been guests in Mama and Papa's home for the last few days, and Papa has been busy taking care of them.”

“B-but...what about me?” Naeun’s lower lip quivered dramatically, and you fought the urge to smile at how utterly adorable she was, “Papa take care of me!”

“You don't think Papa takes care of you?” You asked, raising an eyebrow, “Papa spends all his free time with you, Naeunie. Papa takes caring for you very, very seriously.”

Naeun pouted still, her lip jutting out petulantly, but she let her head fall. Even for a three year old, the little girl was awfully perceptive, and knew when she'd lost an argument. And in her heart of hearts, she knew that her parents really did move heaven and earth to make her their top priority.

“Papa no stop taking care of me?” She asked softly as you buttoned the pearl clasp around her collar.

“No, my little one,” you answered with a gentle smile as you fixed her hair, “Papa and Mama will always take care of you. When this is all over, how about we stay a week at the summer residence? Just you, papa and me, and we'll have all the time in the world to play with you.”

Naeun gasped, bouncing on the bed, “Weally? Just us?”

“If you want, you can drag your Uncle Changbin to come with us, too,” you said slyly as you booped her nose, but instead of scrunching her face playfully as she always did, Naeun suddenly looked ashamed, head tilted downward as if she’d done something naughty and then felt guilty about it after the fact.

You were immediately concerned, “Little one?” You prodded, gently trying to tilt her chin up so she’d look at you, “Little one, what’s happened? You can tell Mama anything.”

Naeun hiccuped slightly, and your heart ached as you realized that she was on the verge of tears, “Mama, ‘m sorry,” she mumbled softly, eyes glittering with unshed tears and you quickly sat on the bed, pulling her into your lap.

“Why are you sorry, Naeunie?” You asked, trying not to sound frantic, worried, or anything that might frighten her more.

“Papa said Mama is tired, and that I shouldn’t bother Mama,” Naeun explained, large droplets beginning to roll down her rosy cheeks as she wailed, “But I’ve been bad bad! I make Mama worry!”

You tried to stifle your incredulous laughter as your daughter clung onto you, wailing dramatically as if the world was about to end. So that was what got her so worked up all of a sudden.

“Silly little thing,” you teased, cradling her in your arms as best you could with the bump of your stomach getting in the way. Still, you nuzzled your nose against her cheek, wiping her tears, “It’s mama’s job to worry. You’re a perfectly good girl, Naeunie. Mama and Papa are so lucky to have a precious girl like you.”

Naeun’s shoulders slowly began to shake as she rubbed her eyes, “Like me?” She repeated, a tinge of innocent hope and adoration laced in her voice that always raised your protective instincts, the instinct to shield her from any harm that this world could throw at her.

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as you spoke softly, “Just like you. Mama and Papa love you to the moon and back.” 

“And I love Mama and Papa, too! So so muchie!” Naeun parroted back happily, smiling with all the life and brightness that both you and Hyunjin lacked in your own childhoods. Maybe that was why the two of you were so determined to be there for Naeun in every way possible, to make sure that she knew she was so very loved. Because neither of you received that type of acceptance when you were children.

“Good girl,” you said, kissing her forehead once more before smoothing down her dress, “Are you ready to go?”

“Mm!” She nodded, clambering off the bed and standing tall, “Will Papa be at party, too?”

“Your papa is already there,” you chuckled to yourself, taking your daughter’s little hand and heading out of the bedroom.

Outside, both Felix and Changbin were waiting for you, dressed impeccably for the formal occasion. In normal circumstances, it would only be one of them waiting for you while the other guarded Hyunjin, but the king had not allowed any exceptions. Both of the strongest in the Kingsguard must be by your side for the day.

“Sorry for the wait,” you said to both of them as Naeun slipped away from you, skipping over to her two uncles, going especially for one in particular.

“Uncle Changbin, Uncle Changbin!” The man grunted as he caught her in his arms, shifting so she was eye level with him, her bright smile contrasting with his typical frown.

Felix walked with you as Changbin and Naeun entered their own little world, with the young toddler prattling his ears off and the commander listening with surprising attentiveness, “She plays favorites,” Felix complained playfully, clutching a hand to his heart as he stayed by your side.

“She definitely does,” you agreed with a fond smile, keeping an eye on your daughter as you walked down the halls, a hand resting on your tummy as you glanced at the man beside you, “Hyunjin is at the party, right? How is he doing?”

“When will the two of you ever not worry about one another?” Felix laughed, shaking his head, “Hyunjin caught me on the way up to your bedroom, asking about you as well.”

You shrugged, the sound and clamor of crowds and partying beginning to be apparent as you neared the ballroom, “That’s just married life, Felix. Trying to put the other person before yourself,” you glanced at him, the gaze in your eyes shifting into something more mischievous as you opened your mouth, “And maybe, you--”

“Nope! Not happening!” Felix interrupted you cheerfully, “You and His Majesty have just been on my ass about it, and it’s not happening!”

“Oh, but Lixie,” you laughed with him, taking his arm as you walked down the marble steps, “it’s really not all that bad!”

Felix’s gaze was soft as he gently patted your hand. He’d been assigned to the Kingsguard right around the time you were crowned Queen, and there was a sort of camaraderie that formed between the two of you from trying to navigate the ups and downs of palace life. He was a good confidante, and you very much valued his happiness.

“I’m happy here,” he said gently, looking into your eyes with his bright and genuine ones, “I’m happy looking after people that I care about. And for now, I don’t ever want to lose that.” 

You sighed, a smile gracing your face as you shook your head, “Alright. But if you ever change your mind…”

“You and His Majesty would be the first to know,” Felix promised.

The doors swung open, and the crowd quickly stood at attention as you entered the ballroom. Your gaze hardened ever so slightly, and your posture shifted, taking the persona of the respected queen that you were to the eyes of your people. Before you were a mother, or a wife, you were a symbol, an anchor of virtue.

Even Naeun was on her best behavior as she walked down with Changbin, holding his little pinky as she climbed down the steps. She seemed to sense her own importance, and did her very best not to mess up, making you break character for a moment as you smiled.

Your eyes caught sight of your husband standing near the throne, and his eyes twinkled with adoration when your gazes met. He put down his glass of champagne, quickly gliding through the room to receive you.

“God, he’s whipped for you, Your Majesty,” Felix muttered under his breath, “Does the honeymoon period never end--ow!” A discrete finger jab to the side was enough to shut him up.

Hyunjin’s smile was small and hidden, reserved just for your eyes as you made it to the bottom step, “Don’t you look beautiful, my Queen,” he murmured, chastely kissing the back of your hand before pecking your lips.

“Jinnie, not here,” you scolded lightly, letting him take your hand as Naeun rushed over, the crowd cooing with delight. Naeun had only been present in a handful of engagements before this particular party, and the people were still fully immersed in baby fever, entranced by the little girl.

“Papa!” She jumped at him, your husband bending down and catching her easily.

“Oh, my little petal!” His smile was bright as he held her securely, spinning her around, “Ready for dinner?”

“Mhm!” Naeun nodded, but not before placing a big kiss on her father’s cheek, “Miss you!”

You couldn’t help but giggle, watching as the princess’s actions completely melted the crowed. She was definitely a natural. You remembered what you were like as a three year-old, scared, terrified, and always trying to hide behind your mother’s skirt even as she forced you to be independent. 

Naeun didn’t need that push, and you were grateful.

Hyunjin carried Naeun in one arm and escorted you with the other. Your eyes scanned the room, automatically taking note of certain esteemed guests and nobles. In the edge of the room, you noticed a few council members sitting together at a table, refusing to stand at attention for your entrance. 

"Is everything ready?" You asked as you carefully sat down beside Hyunjin, "The dinner, the entertainment-" 

“It’s all done,” Hyunjin smiled, pecking your lips before he placed Naeun in her chair beside his golden one, making sure she was sitting still, “Nothing to worry about.”

You smiled, grateful that your husband was so accommodating and willing to handle so much of the work while you needed your rest. Gesturing to one of the maids, you waved your hand, requesting her to start ushering the guests to their seats as food was about to be served.

As you continued to observe the room, making sure everything was running smoothly, you felt a gentle hand take yours, rubbing it soothingly.

“I haven’t seen you all day. I missed you,” Hyunjin murmured into your ear, making you blush slightly. Even after all these years, his forwardness always flustered you, made you feel like a giddy young princess rather than an experienced queen.

“Hyunjin, come on...not here,” you whispered back, letting his hand glide to your stomach, hidden from everyone’s view by the table in front of you. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” Hyunjin protested in a playful tone, gently patting your tummy before pulling away and gaining back some of his kingly aura right as the first dishes were served.

The banquet went without much of a hitch, to your relief. The atmosphere was overall genial and it didn’t seem like any of your guests had malicious intentions. Hyunjin, of course, grew a little ruffled when one of the young boys from the envoy’s family, no older than five, asked to dance with Naeun, but you argued that it was rather endearing to see the children stumble around the dance floor.

“Mama, that was really fun!” Naeun reported happily when she was sitting back in her seat, her hair slightly messy from twirling so much, “Want to do it again!”

“Never, not while I’m still alive,” Hyunjin muttered, rubbing his eyes halfheartedly as the memory of his precious little girl dancing with a boy replayed in his head. 

You laughed at the two of them, reaching over to fix Naeun’s hairdo so she didn’t look like an absolute mess for the rest of the evening, “I think your father wouldn’t be very happy with that,” you said teasingly, kissing her forehead just as the crown prince approached your table with a glass of fine wine in his hand.

“Your Majesties,” he spoke respectfully, exuding the perfect mixture of gracefulness and charisma as he bowed, “If I could do the honor of making a toast for the occasion?”

Of course, the request was posed as a question, merely to play to the ego and the pride of the hosts, but a toast was usually not something you could refuse. Doing so meant bad blood, tensions, potential rifts in foreign relations. Besides, the prince didn’t look malicious; you normally had a good sense of intuition about people, and the man standing before you and Hyunjin didn’t raise any red flags.

Hyunjin didn’t seem to sense anything either, and with a courteous smile, he waved his hand in agreement, “The trade deals we’ve made this time around are definitely a reason for celebration,” he said, “Although, I’ll have to drink on behalf of the Queen as well.”

The prince smiled at that, gesturing to one of his servants as they walked towards the table, bringing two gold encrusted wine glasses towards you, “We would never want to leave Her Majesty out. In consideration of her pregnancy, I’ve brought a specialty drink created from a fruit that is grown only in our country. It is harmless to the body, and said to bring good health and longevity to expecting mothers.”

Gasps and noises of approval filled the air as you tilted your head inquisitively, looking at the wine glass being presented to you. You could feel Hyunjin’s hesitancy, and you studied the prince’s expression carefully, but there really didn’t seem to be anything wrong. There wasn’t any point in making a big fuss over nothing.

Delicately, your fingers wrapped around the glass, picking it up and looking at the orange liquid. Hyunjin watched you carefully before doing the same with his glass, which held red wine like everyone else.

The prince smiled, relief obvious in his posture as he held up his own glass. He obviously had worried that you might reject the gift, thinking that it overstepped boundaries. 

“May our kingdoms stay allies through peace and through strife. To friendship!”

The crowd chorused the sentiment as you merely lifted the glass to your mouth, the liquid just about to touch your lips when you froze.

That scent. You remembered it when your physician had warned you against certain plants that were harmful to your body. As the queen of two nations, you were an obvious target, and there was never any telling with when someone with a cruel heart could slip a poison into your food or water. The scent was almost imperceptible, but you knew it was there.

Someone was trying to poison you, and they chose the most opportune time to do so.

Watching as the prince and your husband both downed their glasses, your brain was working a mile a minute, scrambling for a way out. You could you say outright that there was poison in the glass. That would put both your own staff and your guests in a terrible position. You didn’t have any proof that it was actually the prince who was trying to harm you, and making those accusations would all but tear the alliance apart. 

Your heart must’ve been pounding so loudly that the people around you could hear. You kept your face placidly calm as you decided on your course of action, and very subtly tapped your finger against the wine glass three times, a signal that Changbin had taught you in order to alert the Kingsguard of danger.

Both Changbin and Felix saw your movement, and so did Hyunjin out of the corner of his eye. He turned, his expression slowly morphing into shocked anger, something you had not wanted to happen. Thinking quickly, you pretended to choke, coughing up a storm as you managed to put the glass down.

Felix walked forward and was beside you in an instant, catching on to your actions. He handed you a handkerchief, gently patting your back as Changbin was also by your side, a concerned expression crossing his face as he stood guard.

“Are you alright, Your Majesty?” Felix asked, keeping the attention on you as he discreetly slid the glass to the side, letting Changbin collect it and take it away, ensuring that it was as far away from you as possible.

“Y-yes,” you smiled shakily, pressing the handkerchief against your lips, “Just got startled when the baby kicked.”

The people around you, Hyunjin and Felix, instantly saw through your lie, but knew better than to question your words when everyone’s eyes were on you. You finally glanced at your husband, your anxiety spiking when you saw the way he looked at you, eyes filled with uncontrollable fury. 

Someone had really tried to hurt you, really tried to take his happiness right out from his grasp.

You placed a hand on his, and gave it a warning squeeze, “I’m alright, love, there’s no need to fret,” you cooed, putting on a show of calming him down so that his anger might be taken as anxiety instead.

Hyunjin caught onto your cues, and did his best to control the murderous emotions threatening to bubble out of his chest. Luckily enough, there was another distraction that waddled over, effectively putting the whole situation at rest.

“Mama! Are you alright?” Naeun ran over, her expression overly worried as she stood beside you, her little hands grabbing blindly for you and wanting to be held. As she was watching her Uncle Changbin, she’d panicked when he did, automatically thinking that something bad had happened to her mother.

“Oh, my little one, nothing happened. See?” You comforted her, bringing her hands to your cheeks as you smiled, “Mama is fine.”

“My deepest apologies, Your Majesty!” The prince stammered out as you gently placed Naeun in your lap, giving into her cries to be close to you, “I did not mean to cause you harm. Not in the slightest.”

“And you did not,” you spoke gracefully, a hand lightly squeezing your husband’s leg under the table as you took control of the conversation, sensing that the man was no longer thinking rationally. Hyunjin already suspected the prince as the main culprit, and any words that would leave his mouth from here on would be far from pleasant.

You smiled serenely, looking at the prince, “There was no harm done. Pregnancies are always unpredictable.”

The prince nodded, his expression still anxious as he excused himself and took his seat back with his family. Looking at his frazzled expression, the idea that the person who was looking to poison you was less likely to be him.

“Hyunjin, snap that glare off your face. People are beginning to notice,” you hissed in his ear as people began to dance and mingle now that the dinner part of the banquet was done. Naeun was still in your arms, having fallen asleep. It was far past her normal bed time, after all.

But Hyunjin’s fury was just barely contained, “How can I? Someone tried to hurt you, Y/N. Someone tried to do so right before my very eyes, right under the noses of our Kingsguard,” he spoke under his breath, the cold glint in his eyes growing stronger with every moment. The Hwang Hyunjin of old, the ruthless king that ruled without mercy, was returning, and you needed to stop him quickly.

“Making a ruckus will not serve us any good,” you said softly, continuing to bounce Naeun lightly on your lap.

“He needs to know what happens if he hurts a member of the royal family,” Hyunjin’s glare shifted to the prince, who was dancing with his wife amongst the crowd.

“It isn’t him, Hyunjin,” you took his hand, lacing your fingers together, “I’m sure it isn’t.”

“Then who?” He rounded on you, eyes filled with pain and anger as he tried to hide it from nosy onlookers, leaning closer to press a kiss to the crown of your head, “Who would dare hurt the most precious person in my life?”

“I don’t know, Hyunjin. But now isn’t the time to play detective. Let’s get through this party first, alright?” You asked soothingly just as Naeun shifted in your arms, mumbling.

“Papa…”

Hyunjin faltered at that weak cry, and you smiled in relief as you carefully handed Naeun to her father. The king held her in his lap, using her as his anchor. 

"Oh, my little petal," he sighed, letting the girl slump into his chest as she slept soundly, unaware of the turmoil raging through her father's heart. Hyunjin held her close, kissing her hair, and you were able to observe the party absently, letting yourself calm down after a near experience with death.

Who could've done it? The very idea of lacing the queen's drink with poison, and quite possibly starting a war in the process, would scare almost anyone away. It had to be someone with much more to gain from the incident, someone that feels sure enough of their position that they see the act through knowing it could never be traced back to them. 

You sat in relative silence for the rest of the evening, choosing to observe rather than participate as the guests enjoyed the many festivities you'd planned for the evening. One particular man, sitting at the table to your right, who looked suspiciously upset for such a joyous occasion, caught your eye. 

His motives certainly aligned, and he was of high enough status that he probably didn't even have to personally orchestrate any of it to happen. 

Could it be...? There was only one way to quell your suspicions. 

. 

The party ended uneventfully, and soon, many of the guests began to trickle out of the palace gates, ready to retire for the night. One man opted to take a less crowded route back to his estate, cutting through the palace passageways instead of braving the cold and the people. After all, he was no longer in a sociable mood after the events of the night. 

He should've  known it wasn't going to be so easy. The queen was not only royalty, she was an experienced general as well. It shouldn't have been such a surprise that she sniffed out the little surprise so easily. 

Still, even if it was to be expected, it was still a disappointment. If only she wasn't around, things would be so much simpler. He would've been able to further secure his position, maybe even take control of the military. Oh, the possibilities for him were endless if only- 

"General Lee Minho. It's quite late for you to still be here in my palace." 

If only you weren't around to stop him. 

Maintaining his composure, Minto turned around, giving you a perfect bow, "Your Majesty, I didn't mean to impose. I was merely trying to get home-" 

"Why did you do it?" 

Never one to beat around the bush, were you? 

Minho gave you a saccharine smile, his heart still relatively at ease. You had no proof. There was nothing that could connect the act to him. 

"Your Majesty, I don't believe I understand." 

It must've been the wrong thing to say. Your eyebrow raised inquisitively, and you took a step forward, your eyes cold and unwavering. You must've learned a thing or two from your besotted husband.  

"You're a cunning man, General. Our kingdoms profit off your intellect and your strategy," you said, looking straight into his own unflinching gaze.

"In fact, your cunning is the only reason you are still alive." 

The air seemed to grow thinner in an instant, and the pleasantries all but faded from Minho’s expression. You weren't inquiring, you knew it was him. This encounter was merely icing on the cake for you. The general was suddenly aware that the halls were completely empty save for the two of you, and there was not a sound to be heard. Not the sounds of a servant fetching water, or a maid finishing up her errands. Nothing.

Minho pursed his lips, giving you an unreadable gaze, “I wouldn't advise threatening me in your condition,” he commented, eyes falling deliberately to the swell of your stomach.

You couldn't help but smile in amusement at his thinly veiled threat, “I assure you, General, I am perfectly safe.”

“Oh?” Minho raised an eyebrow at your words, “And I suppose one of your two dogs that you call the Kingsguard is hiding just around the corner, waiting for a movement that would put you in danger before cutting me down.”

The silence screamed under the midnight sky, and the candles illuminating the hallway seemed to flicker as your smile turned icy.

“Do you really think I need Felix to intercede in order for me to kill you?”

Your words were barely audible, and could've easily passed as the murmurings of the wind, but for the first time, Minho didn't feel safe. There was something about the glint in your eyes, the way you stood before him like a storm just waiting to tear through him. 

All this time, Minho had not worried about the consequences of his actions. He did not believe that you were in a position to raise a finger at him, especially since the nobles were on his side. You were the former princess of a foreign kingdom, after all. You were the disadvantaged one here. If anything, he was worried what the king might do if his plot was discovered, knowing and having witnessed Hyunjin’s merciless punishments to those that defied him.

But standing before you, alone and without the bravado of his typical entourage, Minho realized. It was you that he should've feared. 

There was not an ounce of humanity, affection, or care in your eyes. The loving queen that had just been cradling her daughter in her arms earlier that night had all but slipped away. Standing before him was a battle-hardened warrior, a woman who had experienced too much suffering to ever go through it again, no matter what it took.

“What do you want from me?” Minho said, his innocent facade fading completely as he finally caved, the hatred seeping into his eyes as he glared at you.

“I want answers, and you will give them to me. If you don't know, which I doubt will be the case, you will direct me to someone who does.”

Minho’s jaw clenched, feeling the growing panic and fury clawing up his chest as he stood before you, with no more cards to play, “Alright.”

“Alright?” You raised an eyebrow, the simplest action laced with an unspoken threat.

“Alright, Your Majesty,” Minho sneered, wanting nothing more than to pull out his hidden blade and run it cleanly through your throat. He knew better though, especially since he was sure Felix had his eyes trained on him, ready to strike.

“Who else is in on this?”

“A few of the lords were vaguely aware that I was plotting something, but they did not actively participate in the act.”

“Were your actions supported?”

Looking down to the side, he muttered, “There were a few people that did not agree on my methods, but still want you removed.”

“Naeun. Is she in danger?” You asked sharply, for the first time, feeling a spike of fear hit you. If there was someone willing to murder your unborn child, you suspected that Naeun would not be safe either.

To your relief, Minho shook his head, “Not that I know of.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. As long as you and your child were relatively safe, you could continue the interrogation more seriously, “You laced my drink with poison, but it was not a large enough dosage to cause death. Why?”

“Your death would effectively sever any alliance between my kingdom and yours,” Minho gritted his teeth as he spoke, as if you were physically pulling out every single word from his mouth, “As much as I despise your kingdom for starting that useless war, I am not arrogant enough to deny that our alliance has benefited both of us greatly.”

“So you wanted my child,” you snarled lowly, your hand unconsciously reaching to touch your stomach as if protecting it, “You wanted me to miscarry.”

Minho smiled, all daggers and fangs as he replied, “If your baby didn't make it, you won't have a male heir. You would most likely have a harder time conceiving, and we'd be able to supply His Majesty with a suitable mistress.”

You stared at Minho, the pieces falling together in your mind as you thought of every moment when the general had tried to undermine you, make your comments less received by actively criticizing them, or scorn you for your status as a foreigner.

“You wanted me to lose favor with Hyunjin,” you concluded, feeling almost disappointed by the turn of events. No matter what kingdom, the power hungry were always the same, tearing down others for their own benefit. Doesn’t the battle for control ever get tiring for them?

Minho barked out a scathing laugh, “Of course I wanted you to lose favor with him. I wanted him to resent you, to hate you, to see you for what you really are, a viper hidden beneath that pretty, pretty face of yours.”

“Why?” You asked, genuinely confused, “Why must you go so far to stop me--to stop him--from being happy?”

“You think he’s happy?” The general scoffed, and against his better judgement, he took a threatening step towards you. The expression on your face barely twitched, but Minho could suddenly feel a murderous aura coming from behind him, and he knew better than to push his luck.

“Do you really think he’s happy?” Minho laughed, “You destroyed him, Your Majesty. You turned him soft. We were going to build the greatest, most ruthless empire the continent has ever known. And suddenly, after he met you, he decided to stop conquering, to take care of his people, to take care of your people after you lost.”

You weren’t expect such a barrage of anger and honesty, but you took the chance while you had it, “And what? You’re upset because you stopped gaining wealth and power in the spades like you used to?”

Minho’s scowl was pure wickedness, and you stared him down, an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object, “I’m upset because you turned our king into a soft, weak little boy. The plan was to wring you and your people dry, taking all the resources before leaving you to fend for yourself. And, suddenly, after he met you, he wanted to do nothing but protect you, a cowardly, foolish princess that was nothing but her parent’s puppet--”

“Careful,” your voice was soft, its edges laced with poison as your eyes flashed with a silent warning, “You are alive still because I have use for you, but you run your mouth like that again, and I’ll have your tongue cut out before I slit your throat.”

The general realized the seriousness of your words, and his eyes narrowed, “You have use...of me,” he repeated your words, already disliking where this was going. 

“Of course I do. If I didn’t, your body would have already been dumped into the river by now,” you said pleasantly, the serene smile back on your face as you pulled at your lace gloves.

Minho raised an eyebrow, “Do you think you’d be able to get away with that, Your Majesty?”

“Oh, my dear General,” you couldn’t help but laugh, amused by his doubtfulness at your capabilities, “unlike you, I am not in the position where every move I make is another desperate grab for power. I am the Queen. The power stems from me and my husband. And do you think Hyunjin would care about the potential murderer of his unborn child if I told him the truth?”

Minho’s jaw clenched so hard, it was painful. He underestimated you. Hyunjin was not the ruthless one. You were.

Like a snake constricting its prey, knowing there was no hope of escape, you smiled, “You are in no position to threaten me, Lee Minho, and unless you want me to strip you of all of your titles or for me to tell Hyunjin about what has just transpired, I’d keep that snippy mouth of yours shut.”

How pathetic. You knew exactly what he valued in life, and didn’t hesitate in brandishing against him like a sharpened blade. All of Minho's actions were to protect his reputation with the king and to hold onto the power he'd already earned, and you were dangling that prize over his head, ready to rip it away from him at a moment's notice.

“What does Her Majesty require of me?” Minho asked through gritted teeth and a clenched smile.

“Stop with the schemes. I'm sick and tired of them,” you said tiredly, giving him a wary glare, “Stop trying to usurp my power and overthrow my position as Queen. It doesn't matter how many mistresses you want to throw at Hyunjin. He will always love me as I will always love him, and even if that doesn't come to be, he will always have respect for me.”

Minho felt his blood boil as he nodded, “Yes...Your Majesty.”

You didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you smile, moving straight to the most important term.

“You will instate Naeun as the Crown Princess.”

“Are you insane?” Minho snarled, his anger spiking as he spat at you, “The people who supported me in ruling against her will think I've gone mad.”

“Maybe you should've thought twice before deciding on your vote then,” you smiled placidly as you took a step closer towards him.

“You will instate Naeun as the Crown Princess, no conditions, no what ifs. She is the heir. Understood?”

As he gazed into your eyes, each order you have laced with power and unspeakable threat, Minho saw himself in the reflection of your sharp stare. To you, he was nothing but a mere doll for you to manipulate to your own will, a being that could just as easily be discarded as it can be replaced. 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Minho said again, the hatred in his tone more than apparent.

“I expect the good news to be placed on Hyunjin’s desk tomorrow morning.”

Without another word, another acknowledge or even goodbye, you turned around, walking down the hall and leaving Minho to wallow in his own failure, leaving him to forever berate himself for the missteps he made, the miscalculations that had now put his entire career into the hands of the person he despised most in the kingdom.

“Sounded like things were going well, Your Majesty,” Felix commented nonchalantly as you passed him, the young guard having positioned himself in the adjacent hallway, waiting for any inkling of danger to jump in and protect you. You didn’t fail to notice the way he twirled his knife before slipping it back into its sheathe, obviously having pulled it out when Minho had made a poorly concealed threat regarding your condition.

“Yes, it seems like some good has come out of this ridiculous farce,” you sighed, placing your hand gently over your tummy as you felt the slightest kick against your side. With that conversation, you could only hope that the worst of the nobles’ spite towards you and your blood would soon be over. 

Felix eyed you carefully in the silent walk back to the Royal Chambers, noting both your emotional and physical state, “Are you going to keep this from His Majesty?” He asked, afraid of overstepping his boundaries by prodding too much.

“Eventually, the truth will come out whether I want it to or not,” you said as you entered the private section of the palace, exhaustion laced in your words. Truthfully, if Minho had decided to call your bluff and attacked you earlier, it wouldn’t have been as easy as you’d made him believe it to be. You had your reputation as a powerful general back when you were a princess to thank for how successful your negotiations went.

“Still, I think I’ll keep it a secret...just for tonight,” you confided to Felix tiredly, turning to him with a weary smile, “He’s worried enough already, especially after earlier.”

Felix nodded, and you didn’t need to ask additionally to ensure secrecy. Felix was good about those things. He was a good confidante, and once again, you felt immensely grateful for his presence. 

He gave you a bow, practiced ease and gracefulness exuding from even the simplest of movements as he spoke softly, “Take care of yourself, Your Majesty.”

You couldn’t help but smile, reaching over and gently patting his head, a silent gesture of praise for the young knight who’d done so much for you, “I promise. Now go get some sleep. It’s quite late.”

Felix excused himself politely, and you took a deep breath, heading to the bedroom where your lover was probably waiting anxiously for your return.

.

As you’d expected, Hyunjin was almost beside himself when you walked into the room, his hands freezing from where they were pulling at the roots of his dark hair when he gasped, “Y/N, my love!” He rushed towards you, pulling you into his arms and sweeping you into a tight hug.

“Where have you been? I was worried sick! Changbin said that Felix was with you, so I trusted that nothing was wrong, but you were gone for so long and I thought—”

“Shh, my darling,” you cooed, letting his hands touch you fleetingly everywhere he could, your shoulders, your waist, your tummy, anything to let him know that you were once again safe in his arms.

You smiled, cupping his cheeks as you leaned close, “I’m alright. Everything’s alright. I just needed some air after what happened today, so I took a walk in the gardens. Felix was with me every step of the way.”

Hyunjin let out a sigh of both relief and frustration as he held your hand resting on his cheek, looking into your eyes, “Please don’t scare me like that again,” he whispered, “Not after what happened earlier.”

“Nothing happened, Hyunjin,” you said softly, your thumb lightly brushing his face as you comforted him, “I’m here, aren’t I, safe and sound?”

“Things could’ve turned out so much worse,” he pressed a fleeting kiss to your palm as he held your hand, “I had the liquid inspected. At this very moment, you could’ve been unconscious, fighting for your life, our child...gone,” his voice cracked ever so slightly as he palmed your stomach.

“But it didn’t happen like that,” you reassured him, eyes widening as you saw his own eyes glistening with unshed tears, “Oh, Hyunjin.”

Reaching forward, you wrapped your arms around his waist, burrowing in his chest as Hyunjin easily fell into your embrace, burying his face in your hair as he hugged you tightly. The room filled with the comfortable silence, and your conversation continued without the need for words.

I love you. I want you to be safe. Please don’t do anything dangerous. It was all translated through your touch and the warmth you gained from one another.

Hyunjin’s hugs were warm. They felt like hot chocolate on a cold winter day, like a summer breeze that swept you away. You felt safe just being in his arms, and soon, you let out a quiet yawn, nuzzling into his chest.

“Let me coddle you tonight,” he murmured, sensing you slumping forward in his chest as his fingers lightly massaged your scalp, “I know you don’t like it very much, but just for tonight, can I please take care of you?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his request. As much as Hyunjin liked to be cared for, by you in particular, his favorite hobby was to spoil you in any capacity that he knew how. He loved to lavish you with gifts, shower you with love, and to do every little thing to make you comfortable. You weren’t the person that liked to take advantage of this little trait of his, since you were never one for lavish gift giving nor were you ever given such attention before, but seeing how earnest he was, you decided to compromise, especially after all the worrying Hyunjin had probably gone through just waiting for you to return. 

“Of course,” you nodded, pressing a kiss to his lips, “Let’s get ready for bed.”

Hyunjin was carefully meticulous as he  undid the corset of your party dress, pulled out the pins that held your hair up, and delicately slipped the silk nightgown over your form, all the while trailing kisses wherever he could. You did the same for him, helping him out of his uniform as your lips connected with his.

“I was thinking,” you mumbled absently as Hyunjin kissed you with abandon, his hands nimbly undoing the braids in your hair, “We should go away, just us and Naeun.”

“Oh? Do tell me more,” Hyunjin replied with a soft smile, his lips trailing down to your jaw as you tried your hardest to remember what you were trying to say. What a little brat he was being.

You sucked in a gasp as you rolled your eyes, amused by his antics, “Let’s spend a week at the summer estate. Naeun needs space to run around, and both of us need a breather from our royal duties. You especially.”

Hyunjin groaned at your words, “You’re definitely right about that. But can we afford to leave, with all the chaos going around?” He asked, as he began to usher you to the bed, his arms looping around your legs as he ultimately decided to just carry you.

“H-hyunjin!” You squeaked, surprised by the sudden action as your arms wrapped around his neck. Your husband paid you no mind, carrying you to the bed before placing you down delicately. His eyes met yours and you touched his face, “I’m sure we can make time. We can delegate some of the less important work to some of the council members. If not, we can just work extra hard after to make up for lost time. We all need a break.”

“Your wish is my command, my Queen,” Hyunjin leaned forward, pecking your lips before walking around to crawl under the covers from his side of the bed, “I’ll start planning the details of the trip tomorrow. Deal?”

“Deal,” you smiled, snuggling into the covers and scooting closer to your husband as his hand absently shifted to rest on your tummy.

“It would be good for this little one, too. Just to experience what life outside this stuffy palace is like,” Hyunjin mumbled, his eyes already closing. He was no doubt exhausted from hosting the party and all the preparations before hand.

You felt your cheeks heat up as you giggled. Hyunjin always had a way of bringing the conversation back to the baby, “Yes, it'll be good for them, too,” you agreed softly as your eyes began to close as well. The day had been far too eventful for your liking, and you'd like at least one full night of rest before having to tell Hyunjin about your conversation with Minho.

Suddenly, your ears perked up at the sound of the bedroom door creaking open ever so slightly. Hyunjin reacted instantly, pulling you close as he sat up to see who had come in.

“Papa…? Mama…?”

Naeun’s sleepy voice was soft and almost inaudible, but Hyunjin let out a sigh, relaxing as he could make out the little figure of his daughter standing at the door.

“Naeun, what’s wrong?” He asked gently, beckoning her over to his side of the bed, “It’s way past your bedtime.”

“I-i—” The little girl rubbed her heavy eyes as she waddled over to her father as she began to whimper, “I had a bad dweam, P-papa.”

Hyunjin’s heart and yours simultaneously melted as a silent agreement passed between the two of you. The priority was no longer to get a good night's sleep; it was your daughter’s comfort.

“Oh, petal. Was it scary?” Hyunjin cooed, reaching down and easily picking her up, settling her in the large bed. He placed her right in the middle, and you rolled over to your side so you could gently wipe her tears.

Naeun nodded at his words, her lips curled in a trembling pout, “Scawy. C-couldn’t find Mama—a-and people saying that Papa was gone…” Her lip quivered again and she began to cry just from remembering the awful images that passed through her head.

“Shh, shh. Oh, dear,” Hyunjin quickly grabbed a spare handkerchief on the night stand beside his bed as you sat up, murmuring comforting words as you cupped Naeun's cheeks gently. 

“Naeun, my little princess,” you said softly, looking into her sparkling eyes as large crocodile tears rolled down her cheeks, “Mama and Papa are right here. We'll always be here for you, alright? No matter what happens, your Mama and Papa would never, ever abandon you like that.”

The little girl sniffled as Hyunjin wiped away her tears, smiling fondly, “Your mother said it best, petal. No matter what, we'll be here to support you, protect you, and love you until you've grown sick of our coddling.” 

Hyunjin couldn't help but add in a little teasing, booping her nose as he said, “Even after you grow sick of us, we'll still stick annoyingly close.”

Naeun scrunched her nose as she always did when hyunjin messed with her, and she frowned, “I won't ever get sick of Papa and Mama. Never!”

“Oh, one day, you'll take those words back,” you added playfully as you tickled Naeun's little tummy, making her squeal with delight and effectively drawing the nightmare out of her immediate thoughts. Hyunjin joined in, tag teaming your poor daughter until she was too exhausted to keep her eyes open. 

"Love Papa... Love Mama," Naeun mumbled sleepily as she curled into the warm blankets, beginning to fall asleep. You smiled at her words, pressing a kiss to her hair. 

"Mama and Papa love you more than anything else in the whole world," you reassured her, brushing the stray hairs out of her face, "Get some sleep, little one.  Nothing can hurt you here." 

Naeun mumbled in acknowledgment, and her little hands wrapped around Hyunjin’s pinky, making her father’s heart positively melt, “Papa...sing.”

“Sing?” He repeated, slightly flustered as he shifted to a more comfortable position, making sure that Naeun was still able to hold onto his pinky. 

“Mhm, Papa sing,” Naeun nodded as she curled up into a little ball, bringing Hyunjin's hand to her chest as she began to doze off on her own.

You couldn't help but giggle as you burrowed into the covers as well, wrapping a gentle around your daughter as you smiled up at Hyunjin, “Won't you honor a princess’s request?” You teased.

Hyunjin pouted at you, scrunching his nose much like how Naeun had done only minutes before, “But I'm the king,” he said petulantly, making Naeun giggle at his antics, “I can do whatever I want!”

“Well, your Queen is now requesting a song as well,” you said with an air of playful haughtiness as Naeun and you shared a conspiratorial glance.

“Oh dear,” Hyunjin ran a hand through his hair, “then, I believe I don't have a choice if my Queen and my Princess so insist.”

“You don't!” Naeun chirped in, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

Hyunjin let out a dramatic sigh before propping himself up against the headboard and pulling Naeun into his chest so she could rest comfortably in his arms. He didn't forget you, of course, and laced his fingers with yours as you decided not to move around as much, resting on your side of the bed as you held his hand.

The sound of soft-spoken singing wafted into your ears like a gentle breeze. Hyunjin, albeit not a professional in any way, always had a nice voice. It was the kind of voice that could lull you into relaxation, the kind of voice that soothed your unsettled heart. Before long, your eyes grew too heavy to keep open, and you drifted off to sleep with your hand wrapped around Hyunjin’s.

Hyunjin gazed down at his family as he slowly stopped singing, noticing that the two of you had fallen asleep. Without the prying eyes of the world boring down on him, he could finally drop his guard and his cold exterior to fully admire the two people he loved, the little girl in his arms that he treasured so dearly and you, the love of his life that showed him what it truly meant to have a soulmate, a person to confide in wholeheartedly. 

It was his little personal heaven, just to see the two of you sleeping safe and sound, to lie in bed with both his daughter and his wife just at arm's reach. He savored it as much as he could, squeezing your hand once more before putting down himself, pulling the warm covers higher over Naeun to keep her healthy. And not for the first time, Hyunjin wistfully dreamed of a life where he was not the king, where he could be a simple man, only tasked to provide and love his family. 

Hyunjin knew he would be asking for too much. He knew what the two of you had promised to those that had put their faith in your hands. You'd promised to protect them, to wear the crown and carry the burdens of your kingdom, no matter how bruised, bloodied or battered the journey made you. 

But as he stared down at your peaceful expression, your lips slightly parted and your eyes fluttered shut, he couldn't help but remember the terror he felt just hours before, the all consuming fear that you would disappear from his life. And for the first time, Hyunjin was at a loss, facing a crossroad that—in the naivety of his youth—he never thought he’d encounter.

If he had to choose between you or his country, what would he do? If he had to protect the integrity of his kingdom and sacrifice Naeun, would he be able to do it? Before you came along, Hyunjin cared about nothing but his work, his duty. But now, he had a family that he'd do anything to protect.

At the party, Hyunjin felt anger like he'd never felt before in his life. It was more than fury, it was pure rage. He would've been willing to lock the doors and interrogate every single person present in the banquet hall if you hadn't calmed him down. He didn't want to become a king like that, he didn't want to become a ruler than put his own needs and his family’s needs before everything else. 

But if he lost you, if he lost Naeun, if he lost his unborn child, his whole world would shatter. It was almost terrifying how much the past five years had changed him. 

“Hyunjin,” his eyes flew open as he suddenly felt your thumb brush against the back of your hand. Turning his head, he realized that you had woken up, your eyes gazing at him with a mixture of sympathy and love that Hyunjin wanted to drown in.

“You're thinking too much again,” you murmured sleepily, playing absently with his fingers without jostling Naeun, “At this point, you'll have wrinkles before you're even middle aged.”

The king couldn't help but chuckle at your little quip, pressing a kiss to your hand, “I'm sorry, my love. Did I wake you?”

“No, I woke up on my own,” you reassured him, “But I'm glad I did. What's wrong, darling?”

Hyunjin bit his lip, hesitating for a moment. He shouldn't bother you with his feelings, not when you already had to worry about yourself on top of the baby you were carrying. 

“Hyunjin,” you murmured his name once more, and he felt his body shudder at how sweet, how loving you sounded, “You can tell me anything.” 

It was the only gentle nudge he needed.

“I'm worried about this,” Hyunjin said softly, “Our family. I can't stop worrying. I didn't know about the poison, even though all the food and drinks were inspected. When will it ever be enough?”

You squeezed his hand, “You're putting too much responsibility on yourself. The family’s safety is not your burden to bear alone, it is for us to share.”

Hyunjin nodded, “I know,” he sighed, running a hand through his midnight hair, “I know, Y/N. But I just wish I could do more.”

“You do more than enough for us, darling,” you reassured him, “You do more than any king would do for their families. It's alright, Hyunjin. You're doing so well.”

“I am?” Hyunjin sucked in a breath, placing your hand on his cheek as he closed his eyes, revelling in your words and your presence. 

“You are.”

These were not honey coated words to soothe a monarch and appease his temper. You meant them more than you could ever express. You knew Hyunjin was trying his best. You knew Hyunjin was most likely protecting you from forces that you weren't even aware of, just like the way you'd dealt with Minho just earlier. 

“I found out who did it, by the way,” you mumbled, figuring that this felt like the right time to tell him in hopes that Hyunjin might sleep better knowing that the problem was dealt with.

There was a moment of deathly silence before Hyunjin uttered a single word, "Who?" 

You sighed. Maybe this wasn't the best idea after all, especially since your daughter was soundly sleeping in the space between the both of you, "Promise that you won't do anything rash right now." 

"You're asking me not to do anything rash when I find out who tried to murder my unborn child and harm my wife?" Hyunjin asked in disbelief. 

“I'm asking you not to overreact now while your daughter is sleeping," you hissed back, "I handled it for the time being." 

Hyunjin let out a frustrated sigh, "Alright, you win. You have my word,” he said, lacing his fingers with yours.

You bit your lip, wondering if it would just be easier to be completely honest or to ease into it gently. After a moment of consideration, you decided on the former. 

“It’s Minho.”

Hyunjin reacted without thinking, feeling the rage run through his veins once again as he began to sit up, “That bastard--”

As he shifted aggressively, Naeun whined in her sleep, beginning to squirm. You wrapped your arm around her body as your other hand grabbed Hyunjin’s sleeve, “You promised!”

Hyunjin’s steeled eyes softened as he looked down at the little girl beside him, and he slumped back on the bed, pressed a kiss to her forehead and rubbing her back, helping soothe her back to a deep sleep, “I should’ve gotten rid of him earlier. I knew he disliked your presence, but I thought--I thought he’d be able to see past the differences.”

“As did I,” you admitted, running your fingers gently through Naeun’s hair as her whimpers stopped and slowly went back to soft breaths, “but it seems like he disappointed both of us.” 

The king sighed tiredly, feeling the rest of his fiery hot anger dissipate as he turned to lie on his side, his eyes trained on Naeun as he made sure she was asleep, “You said you handled it. Let me guess, it was when you ‘went for a walk.’” 

“You know me too well,” Flicking his forehead playfully, you couldn’t help but smile, “Yes, we had a quick conversation as I was walking back to the chambers. I don’t believe he will try it again any time soon.”

“I would ask what you told him, but I almost don’t want to know,” Hyunjin said with a hint of a smile as he closed his eyes, “My wife can be very scary when she wants to be.”

You shrugged, stroking his cheek fondly for a moment longer before pulling your hand away and lying back down, “I’m the same as you, Jinnie. Anything to protect this family we’ve created.”

Hyunjin hummed in agreement, his long arm draping over to wrap around both you and Naeun, “Anything. But for now, let’s sleep. Thank you, Y/N.”

“Whatever for?” You asked curiously, unsure of what Hyunjin was thinking about in that little head of his. 

“For being here. For loving me. For everything you do,” he mumbled, already beginning to fall asleep    as his words began to slur. Your heart felt warm and fluttery as you smiled, patting the back of his hand as you mumbled your sleepy reply.

“I’ll always be here for you, Jinnie. You’re not alone anymore.”

Hyunjin cracked a smile at that, and hugged you and Naeun ever so slightly tighter in his arms. You were right. He wasn’t alone anymore. He had you and Naeun, whom he loved with every fiber of his being. He had Changbin and Felix, who were slowly becoming less like guards and more like their surrogate family. 

And for all those reasons, Hwang Hyunjin fell asleep considering himself quite lucky. 

[bakugosbratx]

Baby Eyes | Mafia Katsuki Bakugo x Fem! Reader

Warning: 18+ Content. Some non-con, blood, murder, Mafia Bakugo, Fem! Reader, bdsm, sexual intercourse, size kink, degrading, orgasm denial, Stockholm syndrome, yandere themes, etc.

Words: 2,896

A/N: thank you so much to @daisy-bakugo for letting me participate. It is really fun doing this collaboration with you. Daisy’s Event

Tags: @awilddreamerwrites @peachsenpie @miriobaby @milkthistletea @idfkwtfgof click here to see my other works

Vegas.

Many dream of this city. The gambling, the drinks, the money, the night life. It has it all. Your dreams and worse nightmares can be made here all within a single night. The world may be cruel, but Vegas is even crueler. At least, it is for Y/N.

Your pistol was held tight in your trembling little hand. You have not been properly trained for this moment since in your late teens. The weapon felt foreign to the touch. You are now in your twenties and you are usually not doing this line of work, but since you wanted to disturb your significant other while he was working, he handed you the gun for you to handle.

“Since you want to be such a fucking cry baby, here.” He growled, shoving the pistol into your pounding chest. You gasped.

“S-Sir, I—“ You stammered, using the name he loved to be called by you. You would help it lessen your punishment, but the man did not budge.

“Don’t keep me waiting, brat. Finish this piece of shit off swiftly and quit your damn crying.”

You watched as he left into the city lights of Vegas before turning your attention back to the male before you. The man begged for mercy beneath you and your mouth feels dry.

“P-Please, ma’am. I-I have a w-wife and t-three beautiful c-children. I’ll g-give you your m-money next week. I-I promise.” The fearful man stammered amongst the abandoned dark alleyway. You have heard this speech by many like him when Katsuki brought you on his missions. It should just fall on deaf ears, but tears still brimmed your eyes as memories flooded back to the forefront of your damaged mind.

These memories are the reason you are in this predicament. You begged and squealed, running towards Katsuki and hanging onto his arm when he directed you to stay in the car. You two could have been gone by now, but you decided to intervene. Now you are here, about to commit another murder.

Your father was in this same position a few years ago. Begging for mercy before Katsuki slaughtered him right in front of you. Your cries still echo this alleyway during late, breezy nights. People think you have been disposed of as well. That is what eventually happened to the remainder of your family, but you are just under a new identity.

The barrel of the gun digs deeper into the victim’s temple. You attempt to find your strength to pull the trigger. You need to before Katsuki returns. He does not like waiting and you really are pushing what is left of his buttons today.

“I’m sorry.” You whimper out, closing your sorrow filled eyes and pressing down on the trigger. The feeling of blood splattering amongst your cold skin brought back even more unwanted memories. Falling to your knees, you began to cry hysterically in front of the fallen corpse.

Heavy footsteps came up behind you after a few moments. Katsuki has been watching the whole time and you know it. This is what made the experience even worse. You know his judgment is coming. He gave you a task and although you succeeded, it isn’t good enough. He hates your emotional ways. ‘Baby eyes’ as he would say. Always crying over something or someone.

A big calloused hand entangling into your hair with a deep sigh following. You could not look up at him. You hate him right now. You need to, at least, but the feeling of his large fingers stroking your scalp delivered comfort. A comfort he gives and takes away on a whim.

“Took you long enough.” Katsuki grumbled. You gaze up at him with a pitiful look he knows all too well. There was a certain aura to you that changed when your mind drifted to that night. The night he murdered your family right in front of you and all you could do is watch in terror.

“I-I’m sorry.” You muttered out, already accepting that Katsuki is annoyed with you. This is not your first murder and sure will not be your last. He has groomed you long enough for you to know your role.

Katsuki kicked the man’s head with his large foot so he could see the man’s pleading face. Katsuki is cruel in that way. He loved seeing his victim’s expressions in their final moments. Especially when his beautiful woman killed them.

Digging into the man’s pockets, he grabbed his pack of cigarettes and black leather wallet to review what was contained inside it. The little cash the man held is now in Katsuki’s possession.

“Marlboro Reds,” Katsuki commented as he slipped the cigarette in between his moist lips and lit it up, “nice.”

Turning around to face you after letting the nicotine enter his system, he looks down at you. Grabbing your chin, you are forced to meet his gaze. You tremble under his touch.

“What did I say about that crying shit?” Katsuki recalls one of your many lectures.

“I’m sorry!” You exclaimed, a little too loud for your own good. Katsuki’s eyebrows furrowed together, not pleased with your tone. His hand found a way to your neck, giving you a nice squeeze as he guides you up to your feet.

“Let’s go.” Katsuki growls, his red orbs shooting venom into you. Your arm is now tight into his grip as he leads you to the parked all black Lamborghini.

You climb into the passenger seat while Katsuki climbs into the driver’s. You used the napkins in the glove compartment to clean up your soiled face. Katsuki is already on his second cigarette as he drives to the mansion you both share. Considering how fed up he is with you and your antics, you are surprised that half of the box is not gone by now. You know you are in for it once you arrive home.

Katsuki pulled up to the house after some time. Your tears did not pause once the whole way there which only agitated Katsuki even more. He did not say a word as you know to follow the tall man inside. Straight up the spiral marble staircase to the master bedroom, you begin undressing as Katsuki does not appreciate the mess in his living space. Along with the fact you are always to be naked within the bedroom. That rule was set once you turned eighteen years of age.

You sat on the edge of the bed, not enjoying the look in Katsuki’s angry eyes. His muscular arms folded against his chest as he leaned against the wall, glaring into you. You feel small — as usual — within his presence. He is making sure you remember your place.

“What the hell were you thinking out there, Y/N?” Katsuki begins after moments have passed.

“I-I don’t know.” You mumbled, twiddling your thumbs in your bare lap. Your insides are curling with each passing second. You are not sure why you did what you did, honestly. You have seen numerous people plead for forgiveness at Katsuki���s feet, but Katsuki is always going to be a merciless man. Your body acted before your brain could compute. You just wanted to save him. Salvage your loved ones death in some way, shape, or form, but it can never be done.

“You have to give me a better excuse than that. This little rebellion you're on lately isn’t doing nothing but getting you into heaps of trouble.”

“It’s not a rebellion!” You snap back, tears still spilling from your orbs. “You killed my family, Katsuki!”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, used to this statement coming from you. “Here we go again.” He scoffs with a tsk following shortly after. “We’ve been over this, Y/N. Your father sold you and your family out for cash. If anything, you should be fucking grateful I even let you live.”

“Grateful?” You repeat in disbelief, a half hearted chuckle escaping your lips. Maybe it was because Katsuki let you take another life, maybe your parents' spirits are coming through, or maybe you’re just so fed up with him, but a sudden burst of confidence runs through you.

You stand up, strolling over to the man before you. His jaw is clenching as he examines each cowardly step you take towards him. You glare up to the man before you, quivering before his mighty presence.

“You killed my family, Katsuki,” you repeat through gritted teeth and clenched fists, “I’ll never forgive you for that.”

“Oh yeah?” Katsuki challenged, his profound amused smirk appearing. The look in your glossy irises said all the words you didn’t have the courage to speak. “Good thing I really don’t give a fuck about your forgiveness, princess.”

Katsuki’s words soaked into your veins like venom. His smug looks always made you want to beat it off of him. Ever since you have met him. You both know you have no match against him. He will always win. Always.

You have been stuck with him since you were fifteen years old. You two never had any relationship or any sexual conduct until you were the legal age of eighteen. You would be lying if you said you didn’t fall for him over the years. He is all you know and Katsuki grew to like you over the years. Though he trained you to be the woman he wants you to be for him, you do throw a tantrum or two when needed.

“I hate you.” You sniveled.

“Sure you do. Let’s clean up that pretty face of yours so I can stuff it, eh?” Katsuki chuckled, cupping your chin with one hand so he can wipe your nose with a handkerchief with the other. You attempted to break loose of his firm grasp, but the male was not even phased.

“I don’t want your dick anywhere near me.” You admit allowed, still keeping the same angry tone within your words.

Katsuki arched his eyebrow, releasing your face from his grip and discarding the used cloth into the waste bin. “Considering the show you put on out there tonight, you’re lucky I’m not doing worse to you. I can always make that pretty ass of yours bruised too if you’d like?”

You immediately shake your head no. Your bottom is still a bit sore from two weeks ago when Katsuki put you over his knee. You are just now able to sit normal again. You do not need to go back to that.

“No, sir.” You stutter out, backing away from him and putting your hands behind your back. Katsuki is already pouring himself some whiskey into a whiskey glass that you make sure is always waiting on his dresser. He always enjoys a good drink after a long mission.

You take his black suit jacket off of him like expected and lay it on the dirty laundry hamper. Katsuki is already sitting on the bed, sipping on his alcoholic beverage, waiting for you to get to work. Kneeling before him, you begin unzipping his slacks and tugging down his underwear to reveal his erected cock. You take a moment to contemplate your future actions. You really did not want his dick in your mouth, but like Katsuki said before, you do not have a choice in the matter.

Your train of thought is derailed when Katsuki tugs on your hair. “Isn’t going to suck itself, brat. Get to work.”

Mentally groaning, your tongue swipes his length before placing kisses on the tip. Slowly, you begin taking in inch—by—inch. Saliva slid down his cock by the time you had it in your throat. Choking noises fed Katsuki’s already inflated ego.

“Can’t talk much with my cock down your throat, huh?” He teased, taking another sip of his whiskey. “For someone who claimed they didn’t want my cock to begin with, you sure are deep throating it rather quickly.”

You ignored his usual insults as you came up for air. You let out small coughs then go in for more, every vein being pleased with your tongue as you take it all in. Katsuki groans in pleasure as you pick up the speed. His cock is coated in your saliva as you did not slow down once to catch air. It wasn’t worth the ego boost he would feel from knowing he is too big for you.

Katsuki’s whiskey went unfinished as he could not focus on drinking it. Cum soon fills your hollow cheeks and down your throat as he releases into you. Not a drop was missed as you milked his cock. You were rewarded with a head pat.

“On the bed,” Katsuki instructs, “all fours.”

“Do I have to?” You whine. Katsuki vigorously grabs your chin, staring down into you. The room is dark, but his crimson eyes seemed to glow.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get on this fucking bed and shut your Goddamn mouth.” Katsuki hisses, sending chills down your spine. You do as you are told like he taught you. Arching your back, your ass is now in his perfect viewing. Katsuki’s clothes discarded to the hardwood floor below, his dick already erected at the sight of you.

“See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Katsuki asked, rhetorically. He spreads you open more for his personal view. “Yeah, that’s it.” He comments, overviewing all of you. One of his hands stroked his cock while the other pressed on your begging clit. You let out a soft moan, hoping he didn’t hear.

Placing his hands on your hips, he drags you closer to him. Leveling you with his cock, the tip slowly slips into your entrance then proceeding to pick up full speed. Your cunt swallows all of him, hugging his cock with each rhythmic thrust. You can feel your tight walls get stretched by his girth with each entry he makes, not even giving you time to get used to his size as he exits to repeat the same process. No matter how many times you two have sex, you will never get used to Katsuki’s length and size.

“Katsuki—“ You sob in pleasure and in pain.

“Shut it, slut. You’re going to take all of my fucking cock and like it. I’m going to fuck the brat out of you tonight.” Katsuki demands, pressing down on your spine so your ass is more perked up for him to smack periodically. Your cries and moans are muffled into the European satin sheets below. You grip onto them for support as Katsuki does not slow down once.

Your pussy pulsates with each thrust. It was about to give out on you and cum all over his cock. Though you did not want to give him the satisfaction, your cunt had other plans as it became tighter around Katsuki’s length.

“Aw, is someone going to cum?” Katsuki coo’s condescendingly, beginning to go agonizingly slow.

You lift your head to beg for sweet release. “Please let me cum, sir. Pretty please. I need to oh so badly.” You sobbed. His silence made your insides do flips. His slow strokes did not once stop and his nails dug into your thighs.

“No.” Katsuki finally denies as he knows you cannot take anymore. You gasp, your heart stopping for a split second.

“Katsuki, please.” You hiccuped. “I really need to.”

“Should’ve thought about that before throwing a tantrum today. Good girls get to cum.” Katsuki shrugged, using his long muscular arm to push your head back into the mattress. “Now shut the hell up while I fuck you senseless.”

Just like Katsuki stated, he fucked you until his high was met. Of course, he did not make it easy as he was about to bust, he would go slower to edge himself. He wanted this to be a punishment to remember. The whole time, you behaved and did not cum. No matter how many times Katsuki tried to get you to slip, you refused.

“C’mon and cum, brat. Y’know you wanna.” Katsuki would tease with immaturity. All you could say was incoherent “no thank you’s.” A soft rub on your ass was telling you that you passed his test.

Countless minutes, maybe even hours, have passed until Katsuki decided he was ready to release himself. “You can cum now.” He finally grants. You did not get to even process his words as your pussy released onto his cock. Babbles of pleasure and gratitude escaped from your lips.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” Katsuki praises, his cock now removed from you. You whine at the hollowness you felt.

“Lay on your back.” He instructs, doing his best to keep it together. You follow his request and switch over to your back. “Play with your tits.”

Your fingers grab onto your sensitive nipples, swirling on them before giving them a nice little pinch. Katsuki stood over you, stroking his cock that is covered in his pre-cum.

“Yeah, that’s it. Good girl.” Katsuki praised once more, analyzing your lewd faces as your fingers played with your breast.

“Mm, cover me with your cum.” You encouraged, rubbing your thighs together and pushing your breast closer to one another. Katsuki became feral as cum squirted onto your chest and stomach. Just the sight of you is making Katsuki forget today ever happened.

Just like always, baby eyes.

©bakugosbratx

All Rights Reserved

[silver-tongued-bby]

Of Darker Fates...

Continue your story below. Or go back to the beginning.

Please note that this work of fiction is 18+!!!!, and contains religious symbolism, fingering, and sex (m/f). Please do not interact if you are a minor or are sensitive towards any of the themes mentioned above.

“Back here,” you heard his voice call out.

You stepped towards the back of the church, the floorboards groaning under you as you found your way into his office.

He was seated at his desk, surrounded by stray parchment, a book in his hand. His eyes flickered up to yours, a grin pulling at one side of his lips.

“You came.” It seemed more of a statement than a greeting. “Lovely.”

You twisted your fingertips, unsure of yourself. The church felt so different now. Silent and empty except for the man before you, his gaze running up and over your form. It made your heart race.

“Please,” he motioned to the chair before him and you tentatively slid into it. Something about his demeanour was so different from the Father who held Sunday service. The warmth he seemed to effortlessly radiate was gone, replaced by cool, calculating eyes. You felt uneasy under their careful watch as you settled into the wooden chair.

“I’ve wanted to speak to you for quite a while,” Father Thomas started, leaning back in his chair, those bright eyes pinning you in place. “Though it has proven difficult to get you alone.”

“Oh?” Your voice sounded small. You cleared your throat. “To discuss the literacy group?”

He smirked. “Yes, of course.”

You tried to shake off the panic rising within you. You felt as if you were being stalked, cornered. Unsuspecting prey for the man before you.

“I’ve been told you and I share the honour of being new to town.” He tilted his head, “tell me, what brings a lovely creature to such a place?”

His words unsettled you. “I went where I was needed.” You did your best to keep the edge from your voice. “The people of this town have shown me kindness and generosity.”

“I’ve offended you.” He sat forward, resting his hands on the table before him. “I apologise.” His eyes were soft, though something was simmering deep within his gaze.

You felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe you judged him too harshly. You looked away from him, “the townsfolk have been welcoming.” You paused, looking back to him, “though I do miss the sense of familiarity I had before. I was raised in the city and I completed my schooling there as well. There was nothing left for me once I’d finished, so I came here.”

He nodded. “I have walked a similar path, as I’m sure you’ve heard.” He stood from his chair. “I must confess, you have long fascinated me, darling.”

The term of endearment hung in the air as you looked up at him uneasily.

“The schoolteacher down the road,” he smirked, “nose perpetually bound to a book.” He approached you.

Your heart raced as you watched him carefully.

He chuckled. “No sense of how lovely she is,” he was above you now. You dropped your gaze to his desk, quickly becoming transfixed on a paperweight, a blood red sphere made out of- was that brick?

You felt fingers graze lightly under your chin, guiding your gaze up to his. Your breath caught in your throat as you met his smouldering eyes.

“Tell me, dove. Those fleeting glances you gift me during my sermons. Surely they cannot be of a purely innocent nature,” his voice was smooth, deep, the tone of it wrapping tightly around you to force the air out of your lungs.

“Father Thomas, I-“

“Hush now, darling.” He bent, his lips mere inches from your own, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheekbone.

Your eyes were wide as he came closer, and closer still until your lips brushed against his, your breath ragged.

In a moment his lips were on yours, dominant, commanding. You found yourself moving against him, releasing a little gasp when you felt his tongue press into your mouth.

You were dazed as he took control of you, your body responding to him in ways it never had. A heat was blooming deep within you. Eventually your mind caught up to your actions and you pressed firmly against his chest, breaking the kiss.

He looked to you, the sounds of your mingled breath filling the silence. Before you could stop yourself you brought up your hand to strike him hard across the cheek. You quickly stood from the chair and had slipped out into the dark night. You didn’t chance a look back.

~~~

Sunday came all too quickly.

The week had passed in the blink of an eye, most of your free time spent fretting over Father Thomas. Why had he kissed you? He certainly was not the man the town thought him to be. How dare he attempt to take advantage of you, as if you were some poor schoolmarm starved for attention!

Though your thoughts ceaselessly circled back to the same questions- why had you kissed him back? Why had he haunted your dreams each night since? Why, when you woke, did you feel that same heat within you, that need to seek him out?

You’d seen him once a few days after, as you watched the children pick fallen leaves off of the hard ground to trace on parchment.

Your eyes wandered to the church to meet those of brilliant blue. He stood at the steps, his cassock sharply outlined against the white building behind him. After considering you a moment, he gave you an icy smile and walked inside.

You’d worried all Saturday. You came up with several excuses not to attend service, only to denounce them immediately. Eventually deciding you’d have to return one day or another, you found yourself sliding into a pew on Sunday morning. You chose a spot towards the back of the church, hoping you’d go unseen.

You kept your eyes low as he appeared at the front of the congregation. You could feel his stare as he started the service.

You wished you could recall a single word of his sermon, but you were all too preoccupied with the nervous fluttering in your chest. At one point you chanced a brief glance, only to find his stare piercing you. You quickly dropped your gaze.

At long last, the service ended and you stood from the pew, hoping to make a beeline to the door.

Unfortunately one of your students had spotted you, his mother stopping you to ask you to join their family for dinner. You tried your best to speed the conversation along, but didn’t want to appear as if anything was amiss.

Finally turning away from them with a nod and a smile, you made for the door, only to collide with a hard body.

“I’m so very sorry!” You stepped back.

“No need to apologise,” Father Thomas looked at you kindly. “I was hoping we could continue our discussion from the other day.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, your heart racing. You chanced a look around, the last of the stragglers just stepping out into the cool November wind. The church door closed with a quiet thud, leaving the two of you alone.

“I-I’m not sure that would be proper,” you whispered, stuttering as you looked to him.

“Why ever not, darling?” He took a step closer, your chest now pressed up against his. He raised a hand to your cheek, lightly brushing against the skin.

“We shouldn’t be alone,” you tried again, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat.

“And yet here we are,” he smirked, his hand coming to your waist, pulling you against him. Holding your gaze, he bent closer. “I know you feel it too,” he lightly grazed your lips with his. “All that is between us. Do not deny yourself.” Another teasing graze. “Kiss me, darling.”

Before you knew it you’d come forward to capture his lips.

You could feel him chuckle against you then deepen the kiss. You were lost in him completely, all rational thought replaced with the feel of him.

You heard someone pressing against the outside of the door and sprung out of his arms, breathless. His eyes were glued to you, a dark fire burning behind them before he turned, blocking your view of the door.

“Apologies Father,” the gruff voice said. “I came to discuss that reading with ya.”

“Of course,” he greeted the man kindly. “Go on ahead to the office, I’ll be right with you.”

You nodded at the old farmer as he passed by you, your eyes glued to the floor. You looked back to Father Thomas as you heard the steps retreating towards the back of the church.

He approached you after a quick glance to the back of the church. “We are far from finished.” He whispered to you, his jaw pronounced. “Come to me tonight.”

You searched his eyes for a moment, your heart beating fast. That heat had bloomed between your legs once more, and you found yourself wishing you could have remained wrapped in his arms. You bit the inside of your cheek and gave him a small nod.

“The cottage in the back. Midnight.”

You gave him another small nod before he turned away from you and made his way to his office. The image of the fire behind his eyes followed you well out into the frigid wind.

~~~

Your heart beat steadily in your ears as you made your way to the church in the light of the moon.

Keeping your head down, you followed the path along the side of the church to the small cottage kept for the priest. You knocked lightly on the old oak of the door, a gust of wind making you wince.

The door creaked open to reveal Father Thomas, his white shirt unbuttoned to expose most of his toned chest, his hair wild. Wordlessly he stepped aside to let you inside.

Making your way into the small space, you took a look around, the quaint space warm and welcoming.

He helped you out of your jacket, folding it once and hanging it over the back of a chair.

You turned to face him, his eyes looking almost glassy in the low light. The dark expression he wore made your throat run dry.

“I’m curious,” he stepped forward as he took you in, slowly circling you. “This morning you said we shouldn’t be alone.” The very tips of his fingers grazed against the waist of your skirt and you gasped, stiffening a little. “Are you afraid of me, darling?”

“No,” yet again you felt like his prey, a lamb unwittingly brought to the slaughter. Perhaps you were afraid of him. Slightly.

“Then you’re afraid of what you might do should we find ourselves alone.”

You didn’t respond, the shaky breaths slipping from your lips loud in the near silent room.

He chuckled, the sound low. “Wise,” he whispered in your ear, eliciting a shiver to run up your spine. “Though in that case it was foolish of you to come.”

He suddenly grasped your waist, walking you back against the wooden table, caging you in. In a moment his lips were on yours, demanding. You kissed him back eagerly, pressing yourself harder against him. You let your hands run up his back, palms smoothing against the hard musculature of him. He was warm, almost too hot against you.

His hand drifted from your waist to your skirt, his grip firm against your backside. You gasped against him, your hips moving mindlessly as you surrendered to his touch. Your body ached for him, that now familiar heat blooming deep between your legs.

He inhaled sharply and pulled back, his dark eyes falling to your lips. His chest was heaving.

“What is it?” You breathed, afraid he might’ve heard something or someone coming to call.

“If you keep moving like that, we will have a problem.”

Oh. You licked your lips as your heart raced. You could feel something stiff against the soft flesh of your thigh. Making your mind up in a moment, you moved against him again, carefully watching his expression.

His brow furrowed and he clenched his jaw. His eyes cleared for a moment, and he looked to you as if he were asking permission.

You nodded.

He helped you up and onto the table, coming to stand in between your thighs. His lips came back to yours, this time his hips moving in slow thrusts against you.

He bent to kiss your neck and you whined, your thighs closing in around him, drawing him in further.

“I must have you, darling.” He breathed into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “Have you had another?”

“Never,” you whispered, your eyes opening as you felt him pull away.

“Then I’ll take you gently.” Again, he slowed to look at you, though his eyes were wild.

You nodded again. “Please.”

A grin slid across his lips as he slowly drew up the wool of your skirt, your underskirt with it, his hands disappearing under the fabric. You gasped when you felt his fingers sliding up your thighs, coming to the top of your bloomers to untie the cotton ribbon, sliding them down your legs and onto the floor. He kept his eyes on you as he returned, his warm hands moving up higher, tracing along the inside of your thighs. You felt his fingertips brush against your sex and you whined, the heat within you rising, your hips moving to meet his hand.

“So eager,” he smiled. His fingers came back to tease you once more, this time in longer, languid strokes against the skin just before your curls. You cried out, the feeling of bliss intense and warm. “That’s it, pretty thing.” He bent to kiss you, pulling back to hover over you as he lowered his fingers, tracing them around your entrance.

“Do you feel that?” His voice was low, almost a growl. “Your body is preparing to take me.”

You could feel slick around his fingers building as he continued his movements, splitting his attention between the two points of you. You nodded, your chest heavy.

“Does it feel good, darling?”

“Yes, Father Thomas.”

Watching you, he carefully inserted one finger into you. You inhaled sharply, the feeling foreign. After a moment he moved it out of you, then back in, the slick around it allowing him to glide in easily.

Bringing his other hand up to play with the little nub at the top of your sex, he continued to move the finger within you, curling it this way and that, until he found a spot within you that made you cry out.

He captured your lips once more, hitting that spot within you repeatedly, the movements with his other hand continuing. You felt something building within you, the excitement rising. He added another finger, your skin burning a little as he moved, though it was quickly overshadowed by the bliss coursing through you.

You were writhing under him, your hands gripping his biceps as he worked you.

“Do not fight it,” he commanded above you, “give into it. Let it consume you. You will feel so much better.”

You could hear the wet sounds of his movements in the room, your breath coming out in short gasps. The pleasure built and built as he watched you, his eyes heavily lidded.

Eventually you were clawing at him, holding on for dear life when you felt something snap within you, your cries loud as the pleasure thrummed throughout your body. Your muscles contracted around him, your eyes slipping closed as rapture took over.

He continued his movements, slowing until your breath returned to you, your eyes opening back up to him.

“Angelic,” he whispered, looking down at you. His hands left you so he could unbutton his trousers and undergarments. You were overcome by such a feeling of bliss, you lazily reached out for his hand, pulling your skirts up further as you did so.

His eyes closed briefly when your fingertips touched the smooth, warm skin of his length. You gasped at both the softness of his skin and the length of him, your fingers curling around him with difficulty. Tentatively you rubbed your thumb back over the spongy tip and he shuddered, his eyes opening to reveal a dark gaze.

“Lie back, darling.”

You did as you were told, resting your elbows on the wood.

“Christ,” he murmured, his eyes falling to your exposed sex, your legs wide.

Your hips moved a little in response and he let out a breath, his hand on his length. Coming forward, his gaze flickered back to yours as you felt the tip of him press against you.

“Keep your eyes on mine.”

You nodded, watching as his expression looked almost pained, the tip of him pressing into you.

You groaned, the stretch painful. As he continued to move into your entrance you focused on your breath, taking deep draws of air to reduce the burn.

His eyes were dark as the night once he stopped moving, the pain throbbing once, twice, three times before it receded slightly.

“Darling, you feel so wonderful around me,” his hands were warm on your thighs. “Shall I move?”

“Yes,” you whispered.

Tentatively he brought his hips backwards, the sensation forcing a little grunt from your lips. He came forward, and you felt your slick coating him, easing the successive movements.

After a few thrusts the burning dissipated, and you watched as he started to thrust into you, his jaw clenched.

He brought the pad of his thumb to swipe over your bud and you cried out, heat spreading within you once more. He brushed against it lightly in time with his thrusts. Your back arched up off of the wood as his name slipped from your lips like a prayer.

His fiery gaze pierced you as he continued his movements, his mouth open to accommodate his quickened breath.

“Will you come undone again, darling?” He asked, his deep voice holding a rough edge. “As I take you? Will you squeeze my cock with this pretty little quim?”

You looked up at him, dazed, the pleasure steadily building with his movements and his words.

He chuckled, “look at you. Not a thought left in that lovely little head. What would they think, hm?”

You blinked up at him, your breathing hard. It was almost too much to take.

“The lovely schoolteacher, corrupted and claimed. Little will they know how you’re all,” he gave you a hard thrust, “mine.” He bent to kiss you, his thumb pushing harder against your bud, the pleasure overtaking you once more.

You moaned against his lips, his tongue, as he pressed himself flush against you, his hips still moving against you. He pulled away, still thrusting into your heat before he removed himself from you. He let out a cry and you felt something spray against your thigh, his hand stroking his length rapidly as you felt another, then another, his eyes never leaving your face.

You both simply looked at each other as you regained your breath, one of his hands gripping the outside of your thigh almost painfully.

He pushed his hair out of his face, and looked down at you. “Lovely,” he whispered, his eyes running over your exposed skin.

He tucked himself back in to his pants, quickly doing up the buttons before kneeling before you. You felt him slide your bloomers back up your legs, his gaze on the ribbon as he secured it. You could feel the wet he’d left on you stick against the cotton of your bloomers as he resettled your skirts before helping you to uneasy feet.

“Father Thomas,” you started, looking to him as he held you steady. “I-“

He cut you off. “I think it’s best we keep this between you and I, hm?”

You nodded, a large part of you relieved. Though you felt a twinge of something in your chest you were certain you’d mull over later. You retrieved your coat and settled it over your shoulders, fastening it tightly around you before making for the door.

“Darling?”

You looked back to him, his long legs crossed as he leant against the wood of the table. You felt uneasy looking at it knowing what it’d just been used for. “Yes?”

“Let’s meet again tomorrow. We have much more to… discuss.” He said the last word with a smirk.

You gave him a polite smile. “Of course.”

~~~

Curious? See what comes "Of Brighter Paths..."

Or return to the beginning of your story.

~~~

Author's Note: This Thomas ruined me. I had a little too much fun writing him to be so demanding and controlling.

Have you read both paths? Which did you like better??

Thank you so much for reading!! Love you all 🖤

[sabxism]

Never Have I Ever

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: none besides Rose and Finn being conspiratorial little shits

Summary: You've always been too nervous to tell Poe how you feel. A night out after the end of the war may change that.

It feels surreal, to put it simply. It’s over. It’s finally over. For years, you’ve known nothing but chaos and panic and uncertainty. But now, you can leave all of it in the past. Palpatine’s gone. The war’s over.

Leaping from your x-wing, you spot Poe across the tarmac. He locks eyes with you, breaking into a huge, beaming grin. You sprint towards him, sporting an equally bright expression. He holds out his arms, and you leap into them. He spins around as you bury your face in his neck, laughing. He sets you down, placing his hands on your upper arms.

“We did it,” he breathes, and you nod in disbelief.

“We did it,” you repeat, still smiling. You’re about to compliment a particular barrel roll he’d pulled off earlier when Finn comes barreling over, wrapping him in a bear hug. You smile, walking away to grab some water and allow Poe some time with his friend.

He watches your retreating form with a faint smile, content with the universe for the first time in years. Finn looks at him with a knowing expression and nudges him with his elbow. Poe snaps his head around, cheeks flushed.

“You should tell her,” he says, and Poe’s eyes widen.

“No way,” he replies, carding a hand through his hair. “What if I fuck everything up?” Finn rolls his eyes.

“Poe, I love you, but you’re the most oblivious man I’ve ever met.” This earns him a shocked expression from the older man, and he laughs. “Trust me. Just tell her.” Poe opens his mouth to object, but loses what he was going to say as Rey walks up and wraps him and Finn in a hug.

You watch as the three embrace, smiling. You’re so proud of Poe your chest could burst. He’d handled that last battle with the grace and strategy you’ve seen in him time and time again. You hear footsteps headed your way and glance up, to find Rose standing next to you.

“Hey,” she says quietly, and you scooch to the left a bit to give her space to sit, patting the bench next to you. “It’s crazy, huh?”

“Yeah,” is all you can manage, but you can tell that she understands the magnitude of emotions contained in your reply. No words could encapsulate the feeling of joy and relief flowing through you.

“I heard Poe did some pretty amazing flying out there.”

You grin, nodding. “He really did. Per the usual, of course.” Smiling, she takes in the look of admiration on your face.

“You like him.” Not a question, just a statement. An observation. You look at her slowly and nod.

“I do,” you say, taking a sip of water from the canteen in your hand.

“He likes you, I think. From what Finn’s told me.” You splutter, choking on your drink.

“What?” you exclaim, face turning red as a tomato as you cough. She laughs loudly, and you shoot her a death glare. “If you’re pulling my leg I swear-”

“I’m not, I promise.”

Narrowing your eyes, you swallow another mouthful of water. “What exactly has Finn told you?”

“He’s caught Poe staring at you too many times to count, that damn idiot never shuts up about you, and once Rey saw him fiddling with his mom’s ring behind his back while talking to you,” she lists, ticking off the instances on her fingers.

“That doesn’t mean he likes me,” you point out, and Rose sighs. Ignoring her, you continue. “He could’ve just been spacing out, we’re friends, so he’s bound to talk about me, and he just has a thing about not being able to sit still. Those are just...normal Poe things.”

“What are?”

You whip your head around, to see him standing right behind you. Of course.

“Nothing,” you reply calmly, glowering at Rose as she tries to contain her laughter. “Just talking about that maneuver you did earlier. Very impressive.” He grins, clapping you on the shoulder.

“Thanks,” he laughs. “Anyways, we’re headed out to celebrate-” he gestures to Finn, Rey, and his squadron. “-would you guys wanna come?”

Rose nods excitedly, and you do the same. “Sounds awesome.”

The music in the bar pounds in your ears. Normally, you hate crowded, public settings like this - they stress you out. However, you decide to make a special exception for tonight. After all, you just saved the fucking galaxy.

Poe, expectedly, makes a beeline for the bar with Jess. They order several rounds of shots and bring the drinks back to the table the rest of you are sitting at. He slides into his spot next to you, his thigh brushing against yours.

“Ok,” he says loudly, so your group can hear him over the clamor of the establishment. “Never have I ever - pretty simple,” he adds when Rey shoots him a look of confusion. “We’ll go around the table. Someone will say something. If you’ve done what they say, you take a shot. Snap, you go first.”

“Ok, uh, never have I ever gone on a supply run hungover,” he replies, grinning. Poe groans, taking a shot. You gasp as Finn does, too.

“No!” you say, aghast.

“It was one time!” he shouts in defense of himself, and Rey chuckles.

“He threw up within the hour,” Rose says, and you snicker. Finn kicks the mechanic under the table.

“Alright, settle down,” Jess says, clearing her throat. She shoots a pointed glance at Karé. “Never have I ever flirted with a superior officer to get a different assignment.” The woman sighs, pouring liquor into her mouth. Blushing, you do the same. Poe gapes at you.

“You’re kidding me.”

“It wasn’t here,” you admit. “Navy stuff.” Snap laughs as he recalls the event you’re talking about. “I was about to get assigned janitorial duty for the seventh week in a row, so I insinuated some very...” you pause, grinning. “inappropriate things to my commander. He put me on guard duty on the bridge instead.”

A strange feeling flares in Poe’s chest as you and the others laugh about how flustered the officer had gotten, and his knuckles turn white as he clenches the table. You discreetly nudge his leg with your knee.

“You okay?” you ask quietly, and any jealousy he’s feeling melts away as he takes in the concern in your eyes.

“Yeah,” he nods. You smile.

“Cool.”

“Okay, okay,” Karé laughs, shooting a death glare at Jess. “Rose. Your turn.” She smiles conspiratorily at Finn, who nods at her, before glancing at you briefly. You send a befuddled look towards Rey, who simply shakes her head, shrugging.

You have a bad feeling about this.

“Never have I ever…” she trails off, scratching her chin animatedly. “Had a crush on a close friend.”

Your stomach drops. Rose giggles as she feels you tense up beside her.

“Fuck you,” you say, throwing back a shot. A barrage of gasps sounds from your friends. “Oh, grow up,” you laugh, and Finn chuckles. You glare at him, and he raises his hands in surrender. Slowly, Poe leans forward, grabs a shot, and knocks it back. You barely constrain your shock.

“Oh my gods WHO?” Karé squeals, clapping her hands together.

“That’s not part of the game,” Poe quips, offering her a smug expression. She turns hopefully to you, and you laugh.

“No way,” you say, shaking your head. She sticks her bottom lip out in a pout, before letting her mouth fall open.

“Is it someone here?” she asks breathlessly. You clear your throat, face heating.

“I’m gonna go get some fresh air,” you murmur, slipping out of the booth. Karé and Jess boo loudly at your excuse, but you just flip them off as you head outside.

A light breeze tangles its fingers in your hair and tugs at your shirt, small ripples moving along the fabric. You take a seat on a nearby bench, bringing your legs up and crossing them over each other. Fiddling with a loose thread on your sleeve, you glance upwards. The sky above is littered with small pinpricks of light, twinkling back at you.

A creaking noise sounds to your right, and you look back, to see the door to the bar open. You watch as Poe walks through it, puffing his top lip out and shoving his hands in his pockets. He glances in your direction. You offer him a small wave, which he returns, making his way over to where you sit.

“May I?” he asks, and you nod, turning your gaze upwards once more. He does the same, laying an arm across the back of the bench.

“I wonder how many of those we’ve flown by,” he wonders aloud, motioning to the countless stars and planets above you.

“Probably lots. We really went all over, huh?” He smiles, nodding. You stand, walking to the gate in front of the bar and leaning on it. Poe follows suit, bracing his forearms behind him as he leans back.

“Look, it’s stupid of me to ask, and you don’t have to answer, but...who was it?” You turn your head toward him, puzzled. He nods to the bar. “The game. That last question.” You scoot closer to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. The familiar gesture makes him smile.

“Eh, you don’t wanna know,” you say, and he chuckles.

“Oh, but I do.” You laugh. There’s a moment of silence (not uncomfortable - it never is with Poe) as you figure out how to word your next statement.

“It’s a bit complicated,” you admit, and he turns his head to look down at you.

“Oh?”

“I really like this person, but I also love how close I am with them right now. I’m worried that if they know, that…” you trail off, worried that voicing your concerns will bring them to fruition.

“That everything will change,” Poe finishes quietly. You swallow nervously. “That you could lose them, and you don’t know-” he takes a deep breath “-you don’t know what you would do if that happened.” You turn to face him as he leans up to stand straight, heart pounding in your chest so loud you swear he can hear it. His eyes flit down to your lips momentarily, and your breath hitches.

“Poe,” you say, barely above a whisper. His eyes lock onto yours, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

You open your mouth to continue, but your words die in your throat as he takes your face in his hands. Your whole body goes rigid, and he notices, starting to pull away. Panicking, you place your hands over his, silently reassuring him that it’s ok. He smiles softly, and your cheeks warm.

“Can I kiss you?” he murmurs, and you nod, heart racing. He brings his mouth down to yours tentatively, nose brushing against yours. You smile against his lips, bringing a hand up and burying it in his curls. He fits his hands to your waist, thumb gently brushing over your side. His lips taste like the tequila you’d both taken shots of in the bar, and it’s sweet on your tongue, reminding you of the nectar from the sapflowers back home on Naboo.

The two of you break apart, hot breaths mingling in the small space between you.

“You have no idea,” he murmurs, smile as bright as a thousand suns, “how long I’ve wanted to do that.” His grin widens as you grow flustered, mouth twisting into a small smile.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you say, eyebrows furrowing together. “I didn’t want to mess everything up, and there just wasn’t a good-”

“Hey,” he says gently, taking your hand. “It’s ok, you have nothing to be sorry for.” You smile.

“I really like you,” you say, and he laughs warmly, bringing a hand to your cheek.

“I really like you, too,” he responds, and you lean into the touch. “We should probably head back in, or they’re gonna think we abandoned ship.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you say.

Nobody says anything if they notice how you and Poe hold hands for the rest of the night, sitting closer than you usually do, talking only to each other.

It seems natural, if anything. Like it’s always been that way. Like it’s how it should be.

taglists (open):

permanent: @staarshines

[pleasantanathema]

Graves into Gardens | Reiner Braun x Reader | Chapter One

Chapter One: Living Ghosts

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader 

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Modern AU, spoilers up to season four, slight manga spoilers (only by including characters met later), captivity, mentions of violence, enemies to lovers, angst, and eventual smut (don’t worry, it’ll come sooner than you think).

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Here’s chapter one of my multi-chapter series for Reiner— chapter two is already ready!

A very special thank you to @present-mel​ , and @whats-her-quirk​ for encouraging me to take the plunge and create this monster (I’ve got a lot planned for this fic and I’m so excited for it) 💕

Masterlist | Next Chapter

           You were having that same dream again, the one where you felt like you were dying. Your shoulder ached with the memory of bursting pain, but there were warm hands there, holding you, pressing down to keep the bleeding at bay. You could never recognize the face, never identify the voice, your ears still ringing from the sound of a piercing gunshot. It was always the same; a delirious memory warped into a nightmare. Sometimes the dream ended in the hospital, other times with you staring at the inside of a coffin, or in a shallow grave.

           But this time, you were waking up, eyes flickering open to meet harsh fluorescent lights and clinking, cold handcuffs around your wrists.

          A white-hot sense of dread pooled over your body.

          You knew where you were. You knew how you got here. And suddenly, you wished you were dreaming again.

          You could still see it all, still hear the deafening blades of the helicopter whirring above you. None of your team had expected the Marleyans to be in the warehouse; they hadn’t been on the soil of Paradis in years. They’d caught you off guard and sent your escape plan into action sooner than expected. You’d tried to follow Mikasa and Armin, but Jean was in your way. The lines of your vertical movement gear had tangled with his as you both hurriedly attempted to ascend and meet Levi in the aircraft, sending you spiraling back into the window, back into enemy territory.

          Someone kicked you in the skull when you landed, you could still feel your head throbbing with the soreness. That must’ve been what did you in, what made you easy pickings to become a captive to the Marleyan government.

          You sat up, taking note of your surroundings: of course, they’d put you in a cell, one void of a bed but thankfully containing a fucking bucket. How considerate. Just outside the iron bars was a table scattered with broken pieces of your gear, undoubtedly torn apart to be studied and to keep you from using it to escape.

          Anger brewed inside your chest, a familiar feeling of betrayal returning that you hadn’t felt in years. There were faces here you didn’t want to see, enemies with broken facades that still haunted your thoughts at night. People you’d trusted, people you’d loved.

          You knew they would show themselves soon. If you were still alive, it’s because there were questions that Zeke Yeagar wanted answers to, tendrils of doubt and duplicity that he wanted to sink into your mind.

━━━─── • ───━━━

          Reiner felt sick. He’d never wanted to see you again, yet he’d been the one to carry your unconscious body through the compound, to cuff you and leave you on the frigid concrete floor. He’d stood over your figure for a while, heart pounding his chest out of fear that you’d wake up and flash that scrutinizing gaze of yours toward him again. But you’d just laid there at his feet, small, vulnerable, like a lost memory washed back upon the shores of his life.

          And of course, now that you were awake, you weren’t talking, refusing to take Zeke’s bait.

          He watched the older man pace around the room, glasses glinting as he wrung his hands. Truly, Reiner had been surprised that Zeke didn’t kill you on the spot, instead opting to transport you all the way across the border to their headquarters, insistent that you be treated like precious cargo. Though, it had been hard to keep Porco from poking at your body in the floorboards of the armored truck. Reiner had tried to keep his gaze away from you, eyes glued to the dark horizon outside of the rain smeared window. Maybe if he had stopped looking at you, you would have disappeared.

          There was something pressing Zeke, something worrying him that he wasn’t sharing with the rest of the warriors. He thought you knew something, or perhaps that you could be valuable in some way.

          Reiner knew that if you were to live, you needed to speak, needed to give them a piece of information to work with. He placed his head in his hands at the table, palms rubbing at his eyes. He shouldn’t—he didn’t—care if you took your last breath here. You were the enemy, someone who’d once held a knife to his throat when his true intentions within the ranks of The Scouts were revealed. He almost wished you’d killed him then, that you’d ended all the years of misery and regret that still clung to his mind like a poisonous leech.

          “Maybe she’ll give in to someone she knows,” Zeke stopped his pacing, attention turning to Annie Leonhart who sat across from Reiner, “why don’t you give it a go?”

          “Absolutely not,” she rejected, long legs crossing at the ankles upon the table.

          “Bertholdt tells me that you two were quite the comrades during your reconnaissance mission.”

          “I wouldn’t say that. We just found each other tolerable. Bertie was always sweet on her, though.”

          Zeke sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Bertholdt is kind to everyone, he’s as soft as they come.”

          Bertholdt, per usual, stayed quiet in the face of Zeke’s remarks.

          Porco Galliard chuckled at that statement, straightening his shoulders before he spoke.

          “Which is exactly why you should’ve sent me to Paradis instead, Chief. I could give her a go. You were being too easy on her, anyways. Once you start ripping off fingernails people really start to give in, you know.”

          Reiner’s gut twisted at the thought.

          “You’re not allowed anywhere near her, Gailliard,” Zeke crossed his arms as a smirk settled into the lines of his beard, “she’s far too pretty, you’d break down and grovel to her before it was all over.”

          Galliard huffed, a pink tinge dusting his cheeks as he shrunk down in his seat.

          “Reiner—”

          He had an inkling that it would come down to this. There would be no point in disputing it, he’d have to come face to face with his past, with sins he thought he left behind four years ago.

          He stood before Zeke could complete his thought, heavy knuckles rapping at the wood of the table.

          “Well, looks like we finally have a volunteer.”

           Every inch of Reiner’s skin bristled as he marched down the corridor to the prison cells. His footsteps were jarring, heavy, like he was determined to leave prints in the floor to mark a final walk of shame. Some part of him hoped you’d be gone when he opened the door, that you would have used your wits and crawled through some air duct and run away from this, from him.

          He almost didn’t turn the door handle. He felt invisible, burdensome hands pulling at his shoulders, calling at him to run. He’d always been a coward, especially when it came to you. He hated you, loathed you because he knew you pegged him as fraud from the beginning. You never threw a kind word in his direction, always looked at him like he was below you, like his pride meant nothing to you.

          Reiner just wished that you had meant nothing to him. Even when the opportunity had presented itself, he couldn’t even find the strength to kill you like his orders demanded. He wondered if you remembered it at all, if your memories had finally flooded back after all this time. Something inside his heart wouldn’t let him that night, some unknown, egregious feeling that by some means overshadowed his hatred. 

          That feeling returned when he entered the room and found you sitting with your back to the wall, your tightly bound hands in your lap.

          He took in a deep breath as he averted his gaze, teeth gritting at the sight of you awake. Zeke was right, four years had done you justice; time had only made you more beautiful than before, and he worried he might fall to his knees before you.

          “Reiner.”

          Sometimes, he just really wished people would stop saying his name.

━━━─── • ───━━━

          A strange relief settled into your stomach at the sight of him. Reiner was as hulking as ever, broad shoulders stretching the threads of his shirt to their limits. But he was different, older…demure, in some ways. He didn’t hold his head as high anymore, didn’t immediately cross his arms across his barreled chest to appear larger. He took tired, golden eyes less intense than you last remembered. His fingers rubbed at his lips, at the facial hair that adorned more pronounced cheekbones.

          You hated to admit that he appeared even more handsome than you remembered.

           There was a red armband tied around his bicep, an insignia emblazoned on it that you’d never seen before.

          “Do I make you nervous, Braun?”

          You caught his attention then, made his eyes look at you as you leaned your head back against the stone wall.

          “Tough question from the one behind bars.”

          His voice had changed, too. He sounded more stoic, more serious. There used to be a hint of glee under that tongue of his.

          “Why am I here?”

          “I’m supposed to be the one asking you things.”

          You shrugged, biting at your cheek as you wiggled your toes to try to make them feel again. Your limbs were starting to ache, your head too, body feeling like it was starting to cement to the floor. You didn’t want to be Zeke Yeagar’s plaything, but you knew that if you were alive, there was something they wanted. There was some leverage you held, but you weren’t sure what it was just yet. You had hoped they would send Bertholdt in to talk to you, you always could get under his skin.

          Reiner was a more difficult case for you. He always coated himself in arrogance, made it harder for you to chip away at his armor. He never let anyone in, just always grinned, acted like he had everything under control. But before you was a man with cracks, a man that time and guilt had eroded. You almost felt sorry for him, almost. A man like him deserved to bear the weight of his burdens.

          “Listen, if you don’t start talking—”

          “You’ll what? Kill me?”

          “We’ll torture you.”

          He said the words with a weight that knocked you back a bit, stole the last breath of gusto you were holding onto. You expected as much, but hearing it said aloud made fear crawl up your spine, made the cuffs around your wrist feel even more strained against your skin.

          “What do you want to know? I could tell Yeagar was prodding for something tangible to use against Paradis.”

          “I just want to know what you know about us, if you know anything about what Marley has been doing in the last few years.”

          “You’ve been fighting a war, that much I know.”

          And he looked like he had been through battle, been through hell in trenches and gunfire. Your intelligence agents had reported that Braun had been promoted to be Vice Commander of the Warrior Unit, and the hardline of his frown told you he’d seen more horrors than you wanted to know about.

          “Tell me something you don’t know from news headlines.”

          Levi had trained all his scouts for this situation once upon a time ago. You could still hear his voice in your head, commanding you to give up as little as possible, learn what the enemy wanted and then give them something else to cling on to. You had a few things you knew you could feed to them, beneficial tidbits that would satiate their hunger and keep them from feasting upon your teammates. But relaying any kind of information was a death sentence within itself; give the dogs a treat and eventually they’ll want more.

          And you knew that Reiner, that Zeke Yeagar, was a very greedy host.

          You stood slowly, releasing the aching tension in your lower back. Reiner didn’t flinch away from his place beyond the rusting iron, instead eyeing you like you were some exotic thing in a cage.

          There was a nostalgia of being in his presence, even if the atmosphere around him was contrary to what you were used to perceiving. He still made your blood boil, still made your fighting instincts come alive in the back of your mind. You still felt small in his shadow, but there was still a lingering feeling, a fleeting memory, about how being around him once made you feel safe.

          Your bare feet moved toward him, toes stinging against the cold of the floor.

          One of your hands wrapped around a bar to your prison, the metal of your handcuffs clinking against the barrier.

          You could catch his scent from being this close, and at least that much stayed the same—he always smelled like cedarwood, earthy and sweet, like the spice of the forest floor after a fresh rain. It was almost funny how smell created memories more frequently than any other sense. 

          Suddenly, you felt like you were back home, like nothing had changed, as if his deceit had never been revealed. Your mind’s eye flashed images of your old training camp, of Reiner lifting Connie onto his shoulders after the small boy had successfully managed to triumph over Jean in his marksmanship practice. He’d used one of the tricks that Reiner had taught him. That once sweet memory turned sour as you remembered just why Reiner was always such a good shot.

          You tilted your chin up to look at him, to come face-to-face with the imposing penumbra you thought you’d warded off. He was a living ghost brought back to haunt you once again.

          “You seem pathetic, Braun, like you’ve lost all that bravado that made you so special.”

          He took your words, let them bounce off his chest like you hadn’t even spoken them.

          “Why did they send you in here? Did they really expect I’d crack under such pitiful pressure? You’re a deplorable, miserable—”

          His fist wrapped around your hand, crushing your fingers between his might and the metal bar you’d secured yourself to.

          You hissed at the pain, but…there was something you had missed in that touch of his; he felt warm, worn, like there were secrets being pressed into your skin.

          “Be. Quiet.”

          You expected his fingers to flex, waited for him to crack your fingers under his pressure. But he kept his strength at bay, electing to keep a steady, continuous tension against your knuckles.

          “Talk, or tomorrow will be your last day. You wouldn’t want to die at the hands of a pathetic, wretched man like me, would you? No, you’re too proud for that.”

          He took a step back, releasing his bruising grip before turning on his heels to leave.

          A string of panic began to uncoil inside you, snapping as his arm extended towards the exit.

           “Reiner,” you called, “tell me something. How much do you really know about Zeke Yeagar?”

           “I know enough.”

           “No, you don’t,” you were starting to sound worried, you could hear it, “there’s something I know that you don’t, and I’d be willing to give you information in return for you answering a question for me.”

           You could feel your heart beating in your chest, every pump within your ribs like the ticking of an oppressive clock. He was silent, steady, back still turned away from you. You noticed that his fists were clenched by his side, a vein starting to appear up the exposed length of his forearm.

           “I’ll consider it. Depends on what your question is.”

           He still didn’t turn to look at you.

           “Reiner…tell me what happened to Marco.”

           The door was slamming shut before the last syllable of the dead man’s name left your lips.

Next Chapter

[soliverse]

call me a fool - k.dy

reader x bestfriend!doyoung

genre: fluff, slight angst

warnings: one cuss word

word count: 1.527k

synopsis: Once Doyoung calls, you're ready to drop everything to be there for him. Pity that he only sees such efforts as a friendly gesture.

inspiration: 

linger by the cranberries, sway by bic runga, insensitive by jann arden

(click to listen to the songs)

networks: 

@nctcreations @kdiarynet @kpopscape @kwritersworld @culture-cafe @neowritingsnet @neoswitchnet

///

It’s been an hour since your phone rang that night. 

An hour since Doyoung called you in the middle of the night to say “Can you meet me today, Y/N? I need you.” 

An hour since you’ve frantically changed into your winter clothes and waited at your usual spot and sat at a bench in the middle of a freezing winter night just to wait for him.

“Hey, Y/N. Did I make you wait too long?” Doyoung said apologetically as he scratched his nape in embarrassment.”

“No. Not at all.” And then you smile. It was a smile of liar. A liar that had been in love with her bestfriend for three damn years.

He wrapped his arms around you as you walked the familiar path towards your spot. Doyoung would always ask about how your day went(even though you just told him prior to meeting him that night) and then you’d always respond, “It was fine. Nothing new. Let’s just talk about yours.”

This would trigger his toothy smile. He always loved it when someone lets him vent out and would listen to his stories enthusiastically. Moments like this expanded your vocabulary, thinking of words that are similar to “that’s cool, sounds awesome, can’t wait to see/hear it.”

And somehow, you’re just satisfied of that dynamic. You’re satisfied being that confidant, someone he can vent his feelings into and hear thoughts that he usually keeps to himself. This will go on until you reach his favorite noodle shop. As usual, it’s his treat. He would always apologize for bothering you in the first place and make it up to you by treating you with deep talks and a bowl of hot ramen.

As you sat down, you exchanged glances with the owner of the shop. You’ve been there for too many times that she didn’t even bother asking what your order is. Within minutes, you’re served with two steaming spicy ramen that she always finished off by saying “You really look good together. The prettiest couple that I’ve had in this shop.”

For some reason, the both of you never found it in you to correct the nice old lady. The thought of correcting it now might break her heart. Or yours.

You both thanked the lady for the meal and started digging down the meal.

And as per usual, you’ll ask him “Why’d you call?”

He sighs as he sets his chopsticks down for a moment before answering

“Today’s filming didn’t go so well. I needed some time to relax.” You nodded. It was a way to let him know to go on without interrupting him.

He grabbed the chopsticks and took a few bites before speaking again.

“The director didn’t like the way I did a scene earlier and it took a lot of takes before finally deciding to just postpone the scene altogether.”

“Mhm. What was the scene about?”

“Well…”

Doyoung placed his bowl down and started to recall the moment earlier.

“I told you that my role is a guy that’s been in love with his bestfriend for a long time…”

You snickered in silence as you heard him say that statement. Oh, the sweet irony of it all.

“… and then there’s the confession scene, where my character finally tells her how he feels. The director says I don’t look in love enough. Whatever that means.”

You can’t even see that I’m in love you.

The thought popped into your head, making you smile but you tried to hide it so he won’t mistake it as you making fun of him. This time, it was your turn to stop eating. You set your bowl aside and turned the stool around to face him.

“Let me see it.”

“See what?”

“Pretend I’m the female lead. Maybe I can see where the problem is.”

He sat there, surprised at the impromptu acting lessons that he’s being offered right now.

“Are you being serious right now?”

You nodded.

“Absolutely. Let’s do it while we’re the only ones here.”

His eyes are still wide, either from shock or the disbelief.

Whatever it is, he trusted you enough to submit to your request. He himself couldn’t believe that he’s about to do this scene, and in front of his bestfriend nonetheless. Doyoung poured himself a glass of water and gulped it to gather a bit of courage to do it. He turned towards your direction and then shyly smiled as your gazes met.

“Come on... Just deliver your line.” You said reassuringly and tried to contain your emotions so it won’t distract him.

He took a deep breathe before his expression completely changed. He looked a lot more serious, doing such a good job at it that you almost forgot that he’s just acting.

“Y/N-ah…”

Him saying your name is enough to make you squeal internally. It felt like your brain is malfunctioning and realized that this may not be a good idea afterall. It was too late late for that though.

His lowered his head as if he’s trying to hide his emotions. You just sat there in anticipation as he started to warm up to his role.

“Y/N-ah. Believe me when I say I tried hard. I tried to hold it back because I know you don’t see me that way...”

He takes a deep breath as he took your hand and stared at it before caressing it with care. It took him a while before he finally stares at you with a sad look in his eyes.

“Please promise me that you won’t leave me after this. I care for you too much to lose you.”

Tears are already forming in his eyes. At this point, you’re actually convinced that he’s about to snap and breakdown at that moment. 

At this point, you’re starting believe that he actually liked you all this time. That you’re not the only one that feels that way.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying this because I want you to love me back. I just want you to understand why I’ve been acting this way.

He went quiet for a moment, his formed a sad smile as he stares into nothing trying to compose himself.

“I love you. I’ve been fucking in love with you all this time Y/N. But you don’t seem to notice that, can you?”

You swallowed an imaginary lump in your throat as he looked at you with literal tears in his eyes. Before you get lost in that moment even more, you laughed nervously as you took your hand away from him.

The tension in the air finally broke and he goes back to his usual self. He used his sweater to wipe off the tears in his eyes like it was nothing.

You clapped at his performance and he felt a little shy, hiding his face with his arms while you teased him about his performance. He doesn’t want to let his face show but you reminded him about that the ramen is going cold. Before you know it, you’re back to laughing at each other’s jokes and the night has came to an end. He gladly paid the bill and the both of you left the store satisfied.

And just as the routine goes, he walked with you towards the bus stop as the night comes to an end. The both you stood at a shed while you wait for the bus to arrive.

The silence once again creeps in between the two of you as you felt the withdrawals from the height of emotions that the two of you felt earlier.

It took you a while before you finally spoke up.

“I can see now what the director’s talking about. You’re missing something.”

Your voice broke the tension in the air at that moment.

“You need more… desperation.” Your heart is still pounding at this point but you tried to calm yourself out as you give him actual advice to improve himself.

“What do you mean?”

“The way that I see it, you’re afraid that the girl will leave you after the confession. It would sound more sincere if you looked more distressed. Like you would lose everything if she decided not to talk to you anymore. At least that’s what I think.”

Just then, the sound of an incoming bus came zooming in. The two of you faced each other to say goodbye.

And just like always, he pulled you in the tightest and warmest hug that you’ve gotten your whole life.

“I knew it was a good idea to call you. Thank you for keeping me company again, Y/N.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You smiled widely as your push him away so as not to keep the bus from waiting.

And just like always, it took you eight steps to turn your back away from him and hopped inside the bus. At the last step, you’ll turn around for one last time to wave. That is, only to find out that he’s already walking away, back to his own world until he decides to call you again in the middle of the night to say he needs you.

///

[bondsmagii]

same person who asked about spelunking (sorry i binge your blog every now and then and keep finding things i wanna hear about this time!) But you mentioned one of your most terrifying experiences involved dolls, I'd love to hear about it if youre comfortable :>?

oh it's fine, don't worry! I can always appreciate a good old fashioned bit of curiosity. I suppose it's only fair that with all the creepy experiences I take from other people, I finally give a statement of my own. buckle up, though, because this one is a long one.

So, this all happened in 2011-2012, and it began in Belfast, Ireland. A friend of mine, Caoimhe, had started studying at Queen’s University, and she had moved in to student accommodation in the student district nearby. I was studying in Scotland at the time, but thankfully the summer and winter holidays provided me with three months off each, so I would frequently return back to Ireland and catch up with the people who’d stayed there. Caoimhe’s place, being situated in the city and in a university district, was obviously the place to hang out and party, but before I even arrived Caoimhe warned me that the place was… odd. Now, as anyone who’s ever met me knows, I absolutely love creepy stuff and I have a tendency to bring it out in places and in people; naturally I asked for details, but Caoimhe said she wanted to see what I thought when I got there. Considering I was going to be there that evening, I was able to have a modicum of patience.

I get there in the late afternoon. It’s summer and everything is still bright and lively, and the street looks normal. Parking is only on one side of the street; on the other side is a row of buildings, three floors high. Most of them are split into houses, but there are a few businesses there, too – a nursery school, a hairdresser’s, that kind of thing. I get out of the car and go and knock on Caoimhe’s door, which is between two businesses. She opens the door, and immediately tells me she cannot wait to hear what I think of the place. I have no idea what to expect, because Caoimhe was always the sceptical one and it takes a lot to get her even remotely excited about anything spooky, but I realised what she meant within about five minutes of being in the house.

It was the weirdest layout of any house I have ever seen.

Upon entering, I was in a small porch area. Going through the interior door brought me to the bottom of a set of stairs; to the right was a short hallway, containing a bedroom and, at the end of it, a spacious kitchen. Going up the stairs, I came to a small bathroom on the half-landing; turning and ascending the second flight brought me to a small landing area and, directly opposite, a colossal living room. Turning up yet another flight of stairs and there was a larger bathroom on the half-landing, practically industrial – like a large school changing room. There were about eight showers all lined up in cubicles, toilets lined up in other cubicles, and a row of old, almost Victorian-looking sinks. There was no door to the bathroom, either. Just an open archway leading to tiles that looked as though they should be on a factory floor in the early twentieth century. After this, there was another flight of stairs and then a small landing, this time with nothing ahead of it but, to my left, a long hallway. I mean, a long hallway. The longest hallway I’ve ever seen in any residential building, ever, in my life. It went on, and on, and on. From beginning to end, at a normal walking pace, it took about two minutes to walk. There were other doors, but they were few and far between. Only three people lived on that floor, and the hallway just stretched endlessly on. Caoimhe, of course, lived in the absolute furthest room from the stairs. We walked, passing the occasional door, under dim, flickering lightbulbs high up in the ceiling. We had long since walked past the original house we had entered. We were probably almost entirely down the street by this point. There were no windows at all.

Finally, we get to Caoimhe’s room. It’s practically at the end of the hall; in front of us is a dead end, and a fire escape that cannot exist. All of the buildings on this street are terraced, which means that joining on to this wall should be the next building. There were no alleyways separating any of the buildings at street level – they were all side by side, sharing a wall. I asked Caoimhe about it and she just shrugged, and then pointed to the wall opposite her door. There was another door there, cheaply made, not a fire door like the doors to the bedrooms. It also didn’t fit properly, leaving a small gap and a cool breeze drifting out from between the wood and the frame. I, of course, stuck my eye to the gap and peered in. I could make out nothing aside from swirling dust and the faint outline of the first few steps of another set of stairs. Upon my asking, Caoimhe told me she didn’t know where it went to, and that she and some of the others had tried to prise the door open but given up when it wouldn’t budge. They had even asked the university’s residential services about it, but were told that it didn’t belong to them as tenants and it was best to leave it alone.

As I mentioned before – Caoimhe is not really interested in messing around with this kind of stuff. Practically minded, she spent her time dealing in the tangible, and as a nursing student she had precious little free time. What free time she did have she enjoyed spending drinking, and annoying me by doing lines of cocaine off my books. I love her dearly, but you have to understand that mysteries like this do not interest her at all, but they drive me mad. From the moment I saw that door, I suppose my fate was sealed. In the old refrain of many sorry souls before me, I had to know.

The first few nights I was there was admittedly spent partying and catching up, and nothing out of the ordinary happened. I split my time between staying with Caoimhe and staying with an ex-boyfriend of mine, Brian, who lived about half a mile away in another part of the university district. I was at his place when I got a call from Caoimhe at about two in the morning, telling me that some weird shit was going down and I had to come see. I, of course, ran over there as quickly as possible, to find the house in uproar. Aside from one girl on the ground floor, everyone else lived in the Endless Hallway – all three of them – and they were all out of their rooms and standing in a strange section of the hall about two thirds up. Here, two rooms were located, the doors to which were set back in a little alcove. Opposite this alcove was another fire door that had to lead to nowhere, that I admittedly had not noticed before. I stared at it, confused, and then I was temporarily comforted when Gemma, once of Caoimhe’s housemates, asked me if I hadn’t noticed it before, either. I absolutely had not, and the general consensus was that nobody had noticed this fire escape. It was very difficult to miss, too – it was silver, with the green sign for a fire escape on it, but strangely there was no way to open it from this side. It was just a smooth door – no handle, no push bar, nothing. Being a fire escape door, it should have had a push bar and swung open into the stairwell or hallway beyond, to prevent it from being blocked from opening by a crowd of people trying to escape, but there was nothing. It was like looking at a fire escape door from the outside. Everyone agreed that it could not have been there before; Gemma and Ashley, the girl in the room next to her, were absolutely adamant they would have noticed it, considering it was right opposite their doors; Caoimhe admitted that she probably wouldn’t have noticed it because she wasn’t in the habit of noticing every door she walked by, but she did admit that the colour would have made it hard to miss. I, of course, amin the habit of looking out for such details, precisely for reasons like this, so I had definitely not noticed the door before.

I asked how they had noticed, and Gemma said that she had heard running footsteps in the hallway going back and forth for some time, and as she’d been trying to sleep she had opened her door to tell whoever it was to knock it off. She had found the hallway dark, and the door opposite hers. She had understandably been freaked out by this and banged on Ashley’s door, and the commotion had drawn Caoimhe into the mix whereupon she had said she knew a guy who absolutely had to see this shit and called me. She was correct, and I duly stayed the rest of the night to see if anything else happened. Nothing did, and aside from the extra door that had materialised in the hallway, things were calm for another week.

When it all kicked off again, I was staying over after another heavy night partying. Caoimhe and I were passed out in her room when we were both woken up by an incredibly loud crash. Before we could work out what had happened, lights went on in the hallway outside and we heard Gemma start screaming, and I mean reallyscreaming. Caoimhe and I jumped up and ran out into the hall, sprinting the distance between Caoimhe’s door and the alcove, and there we found Gemma hiding behind her own door and the fire door opposite wide open. It had been flung open so wide that it had crashed against and dented the wall it was on. Ashley was looking at it, dumfounded; Gemma could barely watch. Caoimhe was also not being much help, so – bound by insatiable curiosity and an extreme lack of self-preservation that for me is so often co-morbid with said curiosity – I went forward to investigate. I noticed that the door seemed old, like it had perhaps been rusted in place; beyond it there was nothing but darkness, and cold air moved out of the passage with enough speed that I felt a strong breeze. I had my phone, so I turned it on to use it as a light, seeing that beyond the door was a short landing and then a set of stairs. I went to the wooden railing at the top and shone the phone down, seeing that the stairs appeared to keep going in a half-flight, small landing, half-flight pattern. The stairs were all wooden, and in bad condition. With the girls still nervously watching, I descended the first flight and then turned to look at the next one. It smelled stale now, and slightly damp; I put the brightness of my screen up and saw, arranged neatly at the end of each step, there was an item of children’s belongings – a toy, or a teddy bear. They were all arranged very precisely, one on each stair, all the way down as far as I could see. Where the light gave out, the darkness was so black it seemed to have a solid weight. I decided I was not going down there without a proper light, and as I didn’t yet have one, I retreated back up the stairs. We closed the door over, but it would no longer fit in its frame; a chair was dutifully carried all the way up from the distant kitchen and put in front of it.

I quickly discovered something even odder about that staircase. Probably to the surprise of nobody, it shouldn’t exist. The floors directly below us should have been a hairdresser’s; there was no space for a stairwell and no way to exit on the ground floor. I went outside and checked both the front and the back of the building, and no doors opened anywhere near where the stairs should have come out. There was just no possible way for it to fit, and no point to it being there. It was a dead end in dead space.

Now we get to the truly terrifying part. For several weeks the place seemed to be fine, just the kind of regular haunting I was used to but that the others understandably found concerning. Cold spots, weird noises, strange atmospheres, feelings of being watched… that kind of thing. It made me increasingly uneasy in one particular spot of the house, though. There was one other mystery door that led to a mystery staircase, and that was the strange, out-of-place door opposite Caoimhe’s room. I figured that there was a chance that that door shouldn’t be there, either – like the fire escape, it was a different kind of door to the others, and also like the fire escape, it didn’t quite fit into its frame. I tried multiple times to get in to the staircase beyond, but the door would absolutely not shift and every time I tried, I would soon have to retreat because of an overwhelming sense of sadness and dread. I’ve always been highly sensitive to the paranormal, and anyone who has spent any amount of time with me has seen some inexplicable stuff go down; something I’m known for is knowing things I shouldn’t be able to know. I either just know them – they just arrive in my head full-formed and I know that it’s the truth – or they come to me in dreams. These dreams stand out from the other dreams because they’re incredibly realistic, and even in the dream I know that they’re something else entirely. I’m either myself in the dream, moving around and discovering things on my own, or I’m watching as somebody else does it, silently observing and, unusually for my dreams, with no amount of lucidity at all. I suppose, with all my banging around trying to get up those stairs, I must have finally tapped in to whatever it was that would allow me to know what was beyond it, because shortly afterwards I experienced the worst instance of this of my life.

By this point, I was back at university. I hadn’t thought too much about it all in any detail because classes had started again and I was still exhausted from driving all my stuff back over, getting the ferry, unpacking… moving every three months was a bit of a drag. Despite this, when the dream started, I immediately knew where I was. The building felt different, and all the lights were dimmed to the point they were barely worth being on, but I knew I was back in Caoimhe’s flat and I also knew that it was years before anybody moved in. I stood there and watched as a woman walked towards me down the long, endless hallway. She was young, probably in her mid-twenties, and her hair was a mess. Her face was blotchy and her eyes red; she was still crying as she walked past me. I knew that she was moving out, that this was the final walk-through; suddenly I was the person who was moving in, and I was being handed the keys, and the estate agent was saying that the place was mine and that the agreement still stood: I was allowed to do anything with the place and the price would stay low, so long as I obeyed the wishes of the previous owners and kept the top floor as it was and in good order. I agreed and then I was alone in the hallway.

I immediately walked to the end of the hallway, past the room that was Caoimhe’s when I had known the place, and to the door opposite. The wood looked newer now, and when I pushed it, it swung open noiselessly and without resistance. I walked up a neat set of wooden stairs and the light was warm, sunset-orange. I emerged from the staircase and found myself in a lovely attic room, the sun setting through a large dormer window opposite. The room was a beautifully decorated nursery, with a small bed under the window and a dresser, a toy box, a rug on the ground littered with toys. I looked around, touching the small hairbrush on the dresser, seeing the little blonde hairs entwined in it; on the nightstand next to the bed was a picture of the crying woman I had seen earlier, happy now, holding a smiling little girl of about two or three months in her arms. I stared at this picture for a long time, feeling a growing sense of sadness that deepened into dread. I felt paralysed, unable to turn and leave even as the dread grew and I wanted to more than anything; instead of running, a sudden urge to sleep came over me. I staggered to the small bed, curled up to fit, and immediately passed out.

When I woke, I was on my back and the room was dark. There was enough moonlight that I could see the glint of the picture frame beside me. Immediately I was gripped by terror – I was aware, even then, that I do not sleep in my dreams. I can do a lot of things that most people can’t – I die in my dreams, I read and write in my dreams, I see my reflection in mirrors in my dreams – but I do not sleep. I decided to sit up and see if any of my usual tricks for waking myself would work, but before I could move I felt something shifting in the bed beside me. It was solid and firm and cold; it pressed itself against me with plastic smoothness and then shifted, part of it bending. Out of the corner of my eye I saw something sitting up in the bed beside me. I told myself not to look at it, but of course I did. Sitting next to me in bed was a baby, but at the same time it was a doll. It had the plastic look to it, the strange texture of the hair, the glassy eyes – but at the same time its face moved, its limbs moved, and around the eyes and mouth there was a slight discrepancy, like the whole thing was a plastic mask forced into the flesh of the face. I stared at it, mute, too stunned to do anything, and then the baby doll opened its mouth, revealing sharp, pin-like teeth, far too many of them – and it began to cry.

I have never heard a sound like it and I never wish to again. It was a cry so piercing it was painful; it was a sound meant to terrify. It rose the same dread in me as I imagine people felt when they woke to hear air raid sirens in the dead of night; the distant thud of falling bombs. It was all I could hear and it was all I became. It inspired a blind terror in me that I have rarely known; I wasn’t human as I launched myself from that bed. I was a prey animal in flight, I was running for my life. I jumped from the bed and before I could hit the ground I awoke, miles away, in my dorm room in Scotland – but something was on the bed beside me. I sat up, turned, and the doll was there. It looked at me, grinned, and opened its mouth. Then it started screaming again.

I want to say that’s the moment I woke up for real, but I was awake. That thing was beside me in bed, still screaming, and I was awake enough to panic, to roll out of bed, to stand up, to stare in frozen horror for several seconds, and then to reach out blindly until I managed to turn the lamp on. The room filled with light and still the doll remained, for three or four seconds, still crying that horrible sound, and then it faded. The sound faded with it, gradually, until I could only see an outline on the air, and then it was gone. I did not sleep for the rest of that night. For the rest of the semester, I only slept in the daylight.

I never returned to Caoimhe’s house. I have my answers, which is something, but I do not exaggerate when I say that the cost was far more than I anticipated I would have to pay, and that something of that experience has forever stuck with me. Even now, a decade later, I go to bed every night with the fear that I might wake up in that hallway again, the door at the end of it – and the knowledge that I will go to it, step into the sunset-orange of the space beyond, and go back up those stairs.

[dongofthewolf]

When You’re Lost in the Darkness, Look for the Light- Chapter 2

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader

Read chapter 1 here !

After your night with Abby you head down to the cafeteria again to grab some food, still convinced it was all a dream. It’s not until you recognize a familiar face from across the room that you realize it was real, and this time she’s not alone.

Warnings: mild violence, swearing, fluff, just a lot of gay panic tbh

The new chapter is finally here !! All the positive comments on the first one made me so happy so THANK YOU for those :))

BTW that gif of Abby... both eyes open no blink (O_O)

When you woke from your slumber you were almost positive that your encounter with Abby was merely a dream or a figment of your imagination. It was the first time since moving to the base that you hadn’t woken up in a cold sweat; nightmares filled with the echoes of clickers and that piercing sound of ammo clattering on the floor was not an uncommon occurrence. After spending those two dreadful days trapped in a bunker with nothing but a pocket knife and a small handgun, a good night's sleep was something you no longer expected. You shivered as you recalled that dark, cold, concrete room you had barricaded yourself in, awaiting your death with no food, water, or supplies of any kind. It wasn’t until you heard the crashing of pipe bombs in the above levels that you snapped out of your weakened state. The WLF had on a whim decided to clear the building you were hiding out in and saved you. Your rescue was a complete stroke of luck and you weren’t sure whether to be incredibly grateful or afraid for it.

Still groggy from your sleep, you hadn’t even realized the small piece of paper that had been slipped under your door. It was from a page in a notebook that had been ripped out, and on it was a small message in neat, military handwriting: “Had a lot of fun last night :) - A”.

“So it was real!” You thought. That absolute tank of a woman wasn’t just a product of a sleep deprived trip to the communal cafeteria; she was real and every fibre of your being hoped she had enjoyed last night as much as you did.

You neatly tucked the note into your copy of Pride and Prejudice before getting ready for the day (or more like afternoon since you had slept in). After brushing your teeth and washing your face, you slipped on your military issued combat boots and a light sweatshirt before leaving your dorm. 

It was still raining outside but luckily the WLF base wasn’t too chilly. Even when it snowed they always managed to maintain some modicum of heat, it seemed as though the wolves could always find ways around the pesky inconveniences of living in a post-apocalyptic world. You never really questioned it though and you knew better than to doubt Isaac’s methods. It’s not like you’ve actually met him or anything, but the stories that you had heard were enough to send a chill down your spine, and you knew that even if you did ask questions it’s not like anyone would answer them anyways.

Fortunately you hadn’t slept in past lunch because you were absolutely starving, so starving that even the shitty WLF base food was starting to smell like heaven. As you made your way into the cafeteria that was teeming with life, there was only one thing on your mind: devouring those damn burritos. Once you finally got some food you quickly sat down to demolish it, amazed at how so much happiness could be contained within the confines of a single bland tortilla and completely oblivious to the staring of a familiar pair of blue eyes from across the crowded room.

“Just talk to her already.” Manny said in a teasing tone.

Abby quickly snapped out of it “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”. 

Of course Abby knew what he was talking about; in your rush to completely annihilate those burritos you had failed to notice Abby sitting at a table a few feet away. Abby couldn’t explain it but her heart was racing, the same way it would if she were in combat with a hoard or some Scars. 

Manny rolled his eyes “Dude I’m not blind, you’ve been staring at her ever since she sat down. So who is she?”. He relished at the sight of Abby’s nervousness, he hadn’t seen her like this since back when she was still dating Owen.

“Huh? No hablo inglés.” Abby said sarcastically trying to get Manny off her back.

“Fine, I guess I’ll have to ask her myself.” Manny started to get up when Abby kicked his shins from under the table. Manny yelped in pain “Dude! What the hell?”.

“I will literally clock you in the face, sit your ass down right now.” Abby quickly glanced around the room to make sure no one noticed Manny writhing in pain. 

Manny chuckled then smiled that classic smug grin while he gripped his definitely-bruised shins “I knew it, someone’s got a crush.”.

“God you’re annoying, I should’ve let that clicker eat you last week.” Abby said in an annoyed tone as she fell back against her chair. Abby felt a tinge of remorse for kicking Manny like that, she knew that Manny probably wouldn’t have actually walked up to you; but she couldn’t have risked it. Abby looked up and noticed Manny’s expression had changed, afraid she overstepped with that last statement Abby was just about to apologize when Manny started.

“What the fuck Abby?! Why didn’t you tell me about this girl, you know I’m the best wing-man.” Manny was suddenly very intrigued, Abby had always been very secretive when it came to her love life so Manny jumped at the opportunity to become her certified dating coach. Plus, not only did Manny have his fair share of experience with women, he also just really wanted to see Abby less lonely. After Owen and Mel started dating along with Leah and Jordan, Abby was stuck constantly third-wheeling the entire group; Manny didn’t think she minded that much, but sometimes it hurt his heart to see her all alone.

“There’s nothing to talk about Manny, we’re just friends.” Abby replied reluctantly, not completely believing her own words. It’s not like you guys were dating, but it felt like a disservice to call what you guys had a “friendship”. The word itself didn’t accurately encapsulate enough meaning for her and despite the fact she was a voracious reader, Abby just couldn’t come up with a word for what you two had.

“If you’re friends, then just go up and talk to her.”  Manny knew Abby, and he knew that she always needed a push if he wanted to get anything out of her.

“I can’t… I just can’t. I’m not like you, okay?” Abby was conflicted, waves of doubt started to roll in the more she thought about it. She didn’t want to consider the possibility that maybe you didn’t want to talk to her; that maybe you were just being nice last night and didn’t actually like her, or maybe even that you saw her when you came in and decided to ignore her on purpose. 

Obviously Abby was freaking out for no reason, but those small anxious bits of uncertainty that crept in from the back of her mind made her shield of confidence feel tenuous and weak; something she despised.

Manny knew what Abby meant but being the smug little shit he is, he wanted to hear her say it out loud “What do you mean?”.

Abby sighed, “Don’t make me say it.”.

“No, no I really want to hear it.” Manny smiled that famous shit-eating grin, the one he used whenever Abby had to admit he was right.

Abby realized he wasn’t letting go of this “Ugh you know, you can… talk to people.”. Abby could tell by Manny’s face that he wasn’t satisfied with her answer, so not wanting to risk the possibility that he’ll stand up again Abby gave him a look of defeat “and I guess you’re charming or whatever.”.

“Ah! Música para mis oídos.” Manny smiled proudly, hearing Abby compliment him was almost as rare as seeing her without that signature braid. Just as Manny was getting ready to haul Abby’s ass to your table he looked over and realized that you had disappeared, it wasn’t until Abby kicked his shins again that he realized you were standing right there.

You were elbow deep in your third burrito before your dumbass realized that Abby was sitting a couple tables across from yours. “Shit!” You thought, how long had she been sitting there? Did she notice you? No, probably not… unless, what if she was so disgusted by you huffing down those burritos that she ignored you? Ugh! How could you not have noticed her?

You calmly set your burrito down, wiping your face and praying to God there wasn’t anything stuck in your teeth. You figured that Abby probably hadn’t noticed you so you decided to just bite the bullet and talk to her. As you stood up from your seat to make your way over to her table, you quietly whispered to yourself “Come on y/n, don’t be a pussy.”.

“Hey Abby.” She was sitting with a man who you assumed was the friend that she had transferred here with, she mentioned his name last night but you couldn’t place it. He suddenly jerked around to face you with a calm smile on his face, his rugged features and charming personality now making it clear as to why Abby complained about being kicked out of her own room so many nights. Even though you weren’t attracted to him, you understood what all the fuss was about.

“Hey Y/N, I didn’t even see you there.” As soon as the words came out Abby shot Manny a look, the kind of look that meant “don’t say a fucking word.”. However, of course Manny being… well Manny, he grinned and raised his hand to shake yours.

“I’m Manny.” His smile was warm and welcoming as he shook your hand “Please, sit down sit down. Tell me all about yourself.”.

You took a seat next to Abby, your knees just barely grazing each other due to the shortage of space at the table. Even though it was such a small form of contact, you couldn’t help but feel like there was an electric charge connecting you together. You wondered if she even noticed the gesture, if Abby could hear your heart daring to beat out of your chest; if she noticed that small gap between your hands on the table, or if she even noticed the small clandestine looks you were sending her the whole time.

Abby froze stiff as a board when you sat down next to her, and she did her best to maintain her composure when she felt your knee graze hers from beneath the table. This was the closest you two had been and now she could really see the details of your face and your actions; how you pushed a strand of hair behind your ear whenever you were nervous, or how you snorted when Manny thought “Little Women” was just about really tiny people. She noticed how bright your smile was, how it was the kind of smile that could instantly light up an entire room, and she was astonished because Abby finally understood the real meaning of that one Firefly quote about “looking for the light”. Abby realized that no matter what, she would follow you to the ends of the Earth. You were this bright and unexpected light that suddenly entered her life, you weakened her defences and made her feel like a ball of putty, and while one part of her detested that feeling, another part of her never wanted to part with it.

You explained to them how you had been rescued by the WLF and how you were a pretty skilled mechanic. You even told them about how although you loved your job, you desperately wanted to work in the library, because other than the fact that you wouldn’t be covered in grease at the end of every day, you’d also be surrounded by things you love. 

The two told you about the “Salt Lake Crew” and how they were essentially Isaac’s top soldiers. It was a fact that left you with about a hundred questions, but you figured it wasn’t the right time to bring up their boss so you tried your best to brush it off. The three of you sat at that table talking for what felt like forever before the cafeteria staff kicked you guys out because they had to clean up. 

As they both walked you to your room you were so incredibly excited. You had spent so many months at this boring outpost, spending most of your time reading or crying. Then Abby happened; she came into your life and suddenly you weren’t alone anymore. You were so insanely grateful for this newfound happiness that you just wanted to leap into those insanely strong arms. 

Just as the two were about to leave Abby grabbed your hand and leaned down to your height so she could quietly talk to you, “Hey Y/N, can I ask you something?”.

You were so dumbfounded by her hand holding yours that you nearly passed out, you tried to form words but all you could manage was a small nod.

Abby smiled as she stood up and looked to Manny “Hey, you can go ahead I’ll catch up. I just need to talk to Y/N for a quick sec.”. 

Manny immediately got the signal and grinned so wide Abby thought his face would freeze like that, Abby knew she was never going to hear the end of this, but she couldn’t really be bothered to care with your hand in hers.

Then Manny was gone, and it was just you and Abby. Her hand was still holding yours and you couldn’t help but notice all the details of them; how she had these small calluses on the palms of her hands, formed from years of wielding firearms and lifting weights. You realized how much damage she could do with them—how much damage she had done with them—but instead she stood there softly cradling your hand in hers, just lightly squeezing it before she looked at you with those same pools of blue you wanted desperately to drown in.

“Hey so I know we kind of just met last night, but I’ve really enjoyed hanging out with you and…” Abby paused to contemplate her words before starting again “and I was wondering if we could do this more often. I’m doing some work for Isaac tomorrow but I’ll be back later if you wanted to come by and watch a movie or something?”.

“Holy shit!” You thought “Did Abby just ask me out on a date?”. You couldn’t believe it, there was no way this absolutely fucking perfect girl just asked you on a date. You almost wanted to pinch yourself because nothing about this felt real, it wasn’t until you snapped back to reality that you realized you had been staring at Abby in absolute silence while she stood there waiting for an answer.

You quickly answered “Absolutely, I would love to come over and watch a movie.” Your heart was pounding dangerously fast against your ribcage and your face was completely flushed as you gave her a reassuring smile.

Abby sighed with relief and lightly squeezed your hand “Great! I’m in the room across from the gym, does eight o-clock work?”. Abby felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, at first when Y/N didn’t say anything, she was afraid she had misread the situation and crossed the line.

“I’ll see you then.” As you started heading back to your room, you suddenly remembered something “Hey Abby!” She looked back with curiosity as you shot her a small smirk “Thanks for the note.”. 

Abby smiled shyly “I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N.”

—

Read the next chapter here

[darling-dummy-blogs]

A Dummy's Heartbreak- Victor Li (PT 2)

Summary: Cassandra calls up Victor telling him that she misses him leaving Victor conflicted with his emotions. He decides to go over to her house to check on her. The two end up rekindling something as the night goes on…

Paring: Victor Li x Cassie (OC)

Genre: Angst (With a bit of Fluff)

Warnings: None!

Fandom: Mr. Love Queen's Choice

Word Count: 2.5k

Notes:

Will be mainly focusing around Victor's perspective 

Will go into details about why and how they ended up breaking up. 

Possible Part 3…?

Massive thanks to @little-butterfly-writes for helping with brainstorming ideas for the break up 💜 (Go follow her, if you haven't already~)

So sorry for the delay with this part! With everything taking place, it's been hard to focus and write when I've been anxious and emotional over the situation within the MLQC fandom. Hope you enjoy <3

“I Miss You. I Miss Us..."

Hearing those words made Victor’s heart leap within his chest. He had hoped and dreamed of hearing these words almost everyday after the break up.

Victor remained silent for quite some time, unsure of how to reply to her words. His light breathing was the only thing that could be heard over the phone.

"...V-Victor? Are you still there?" She spoke out once again to him, the nervous tremor in her voice could be heard.

He swallowed, trying to process the words and managed to clear his rapid thoughts as he replied in a soft, yet quiet tone.

"I'm still here…" Before adding the words he wished to speak to her that day she left Loveland, "I miss you too… More than anything. But why are you suddenly telling me this now? It's been four months, Cassie."

"I-I know… I know it's been a while since I spoke to you… I just… Today… I-..." She trailed off, growing rather quiet.

His eyes trailed off from his desk to look at the calendar. His eyes landed on the day in question. His gaze softened. A deep frown appeared on his face.

"...Our third year anniversary…" He finished for her, his voice coming out rather hoarse, the sadness he felt at that moment made his heart ache.

He could faintly hear her sobbing on the other end of the line.

"I-I'm sorry… I shouldn't have called you. I just… I had such a rough day today, I-I couldn't focus.. I-I couldn't do anything right…"

She took a moment to catch her breath before continuing, "A-and then I realized what today was and it all made sense as to why I was acting like this, why I couldn't stop thinking about you.. Why I… miss you…"

"Cassie…" His voice came out soft once again, hearing her cry, utterly broke his heart. "Breathe… It's okay…" He tried to soothe her.

"I'm right here.." He spoke again. "I'm here for you. You know that."

Hearing those words from him, made her sob more, only louder this time. She knew that. Of course she did. But it still hurts that he isn't physically there with her.

"Cassandra." He spoke again, this time slightly firmer than before. "Listen to me… Breathe… I know it hurts. Trust me, I know more than anyone that it hurts."

He paused, as his eyes landed on a picture frame that laid upon his desk, one that he refused to put away since he had last seen her.

The frame contained an image of Cassie's bright smiling face. A photo Victor snuck in while she wasn't looking during one of their dates.

Staring at that photo, made his vision gloss over with tears. She looked so beautiful in that image.

She always did in his eyes. But he could never forget the look on her face, on the day of their break up.

He spoke again, "But you are strong. You can get through this. I know you can…"

"...Not without you by my side, Victor…" She spoke in a solemn tone as she had managed to calm down her sobs, sniffling.

"I-I've tried everything to get you out of my head, but nothing worked. I drank wine, just to try to forget about all the memories we made. But you still won't stubbornly go away…" She let out a sad chuckle at the end.

Victor grew silent again. A single tear slipped down his face as he stared blankly down at his desk. Taking in her words.

At that moment. He knew what he needed to do. He swallowed, as he wiped away his tears, speaking in a firm yet serious tone.

"Where are you right now?"

"I-I'm at home… Why?" Confusion clearly shown within her words.

"I'm coming to see you. Right now." He stood from his chair, gathering his suit jacket and left his office immediately.

--

The drive from Loveland to Cassandra's hometown felt long however, it wasn't too long as Victor pulled into the driveway of Cassie's home.

The anticipation of seeing her once again after such a long departure, made his heart flutter. He took a moment as he parked his car, looking at the house in front of him.

The sun barely began to set as he stared for what seemed like an eternity before unbuckling his seatbelt and stepped out of his car. Smoothening his jacket as he made his way to the door. Hesitating before ringing the doorbell.

A few moments passed by and the door flew open. The two made eye contact. Both stared at each other with wide eyes as though they had never met before.

Victor took in her appearance. He could tell she looked tired; the dark circles under her eyes, followed by how red and puffy her eyes were from crying. He could see the tears that stained her cheeks.

Gosh how he hated being the reason that she was upset. He mentally scolded himself for hurting such a loving girl such as herself. For fighting with her over a matter that she was feeling insecure about four months ago.

At that time, he didn't know what he had done to himself. But when she walked out that door, with that look on her face. He knew he regretted everything he had said to her in that argument.

He blamed himself for the longest time for saying such things to her.

Days if not weeks after the break up he did nothing but drink his sorrows away, threw himself into work to occupy and fill in the hole that she once held. Giving everyone at LFG hell to keep his mind from thoughts of her.

Sleepless nights filled with him crying over her, a side he refused to let anyone see. He wouldn't even want to let her see him like that.

His emotions got the better of him then. But now, seeing her within arms reach.. He wanted nothing more but to hold her and wipe away her tears. To take away her pain…

His eyes filled with tears, but he remained calm. She stared at him quietly with tears in her eyes as well, yet she refused to say anything. Fearing if she did, he'd disappear or she'd start bawling her eyes out once more.

She took a deep shaky breath, speaking out to him

"Come in…"

She opened the door wider for him. Waiting as he silently stepped inside. She shut the door quietly behind him as she wiped at her eyes hastily.

Cassie then gestured to the couch once they were in the living room, sitting down in the exact spot she was sitting before she called him.

He sat down next to her. However after realizing how close he was he slightly scooted away to give her some space.

Both of them remained silent for far too long.

Cassie proceeded to break the ice as she spoke, bringing her legs up to her chest while looking at him, "Why are you here, Victor..?"

"...I had to see you." He spoke as he kept his gaze low to the ground.

"I still don't understand… Why though?"

"Because Cassie… I missed you. Just as much as you missed me. I wanted to see you in person because I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"...Well.. I'm not okay…"

"..." He looked up from the ground to meet her gaze. A tear slid down his face. "...And I'm sorry for being the reason as to why you aren't okay…" He looked down at the ground once again

She frowned at that statement. "Victor…"

"No. I know that I'm the reason. That's why we broke up to begin with. I-I was too harsh with you.. I always have been."

She looked away. Shaking her head as tears filled her eyes. "That isn't the reason we broke up."

"Then what is it?"

"...The reason we broke up was because I was mad and upset with you for what you told me that day. It wasn't that you were harsh with me… because you were far from that."

She looked at him, moving closer to him, hesitating a second before cupping his face within her hands, making him look at her.

"Y-You were an amazing lover. And I loved you so much.. And if I'm being completely honest with myself. I still do love you. I believe that I always will…"

Her hands lightly caressed his skin, he brought his hand up, resting it on top of hers as he stared into her eyes.

Her lips trembled as she continued speaking. Her eyes filled with fresh tears. "But we broke up because of the awful rumors and ideas about my relationship with you that were being spread by numerous people online, especially by Chik. The argument we had that night took part of it but it wasn't the full reason."

"I didn't want to ruin your reputation. And I didn't want others to tear me down… I was insecure and I didn't want to be selfish by continuing to be with you… to have you to myself... that's why I told you that night if you wanted to end it. Then we would..."

He removed her hands from his face, holding her hands within his own, frowning. "Cassandra, you weren't being selfish nor were you going to ruin my reputation. I can now understand why you chose to break up with me."

"I didn't care about what those people were saying online about you, me or our relationship. I never cared about others' opinions but my own… It has always been like that. That was until you came into my life. Your opinion mattered most to me… That's why that day when you told me you were insecure about those rumors, I brushed it off."

"...Because I would never believe their words about you, because I know you. And I love you more than anything in this world. I just wanted to be with you…"

She stared at him in shock. Tears glided down her face as she listened to his every word.

"In hindsight… I should have cared a little more, knowing that you are more vulnerable and easily hurt by others words than I am… That was my error and for that I am sorry…" Tears slipped down his face as he added, "I-I never wanted to lose you, the way that I did."

He let go of her hands, moving to wipe at her tears, resting his forehead against hers. "I still… want to be with you. That's all I've wanted since you left."

He admitted, gazing deeply into her eyes. She stared into his eyes, nearly getting lost in them as she was unsure of how to respond to his words.

She swallowed as her breath hitched when she realized how much closer he was to her, which made her cheeks flush bright red.

Victor took in her expression, his eyes trailing down her face, taking in every feature. His eyes then landed on her slightly parted lips.

He missed everything about her, but in this moment, he missed the soft touch of her lips against his …

He leaned in closer, all self control he had at that moment seemingly lost as their faces were just mere centimeters apart.

She swallowed as her heart fluttered. As much as her heart wanted this, her mind wouldn't allow it.

She turned her head away just as their lips were about to touch

"...We shouldn't.. As much as I want to, it's still painful…"

He frowned, as he pulled away gaining control of himself once again, he looked down. "...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have.. I don't know what came over me..."

"It's okay, really… It's just… Hard…"

"I know…"

An awkward silence took over the two of them. Neither of them knew what more to say to one another.

"I should probably get back to Loveland.." He spoke, standing up after a moment in their awkward silence.

She looked at him, her hand reaching out to his. "No! Stay… Please…"

He looked down at her hand that held onto his. Moving his hand to softly lace his fingers with hers, looking at her.

"Are you sure you want me to stay?"

She nodded, giving him a small smile. "Y-yeah… I could really use the company… I was just about to put on a movie to watch…"

The corners of his mouth lifted upwards as he let go of her hand, sitting down once again beside her. "Alright, I'll stay. What movie are you thinking of watching?"

She smiled wider as she moved to grab the remote to the TV. "Mm.. I'm not sure honestly… Hmm… How does Beauty and The Beast sound?"

He let out a chuckle, knowing how much she adored that movie. She always loved watching it with him in the time that they were together, "Still love that movie? Even after watching it countless times? I guess some things never change."

Victor lightly teased her, smiling more as she rolled her eyes, pouting playfully at him.

"Of course I do! It's my favorite movie of all time, no matter how many times I watch it, it will always be my favorite. Now are you going to watch it will me or not?"

He looked at her as he laughed softly. "I'll watch it with you."

"Great." She giggled, as she then found the movie, pressing play as the movie began playing. Victor then made himself more comfortable, seeing as he'll be there for quite some time.

However, not even halfway through the movie, Victor feels Cassandra's head rest against his shoulder.

He didn't realize that she made herself comfortable and had curled up at his side. He looked down at her, his gaze softening as he realized she fell asleep.

He smiled, letting out a soft chuckle. "As usual… You always tend to fall asleep at any given time…"

Victor then shifted his hands to wrap around her, as he stood up. Being cautious as to not wake her. He lifted her up into his arms.

Taking her up the stairs and into her bedroom, he gently set her down on the bed, tugging the covers up and over her, making sure she was fully tucked in. He gazed down at her, moving a few strands of hair away from her face. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Goodnight Cassie… I love you."

He whispered before standing up straighter, turning to leave.

However a small tug to his shirt sleeve, stopped him in his tracks. He turned back to look at her, her eyes opened as she gazed at him sleepily.

"Stay… Please…"

How could he say no to that? His heart skipped a beat as he nodded. Moving to lay beside her, wrapping his arms around her as she moved to curl up close to him, her eyes fluttering close as her head rested against his chest.

He gently moved his hand to gently stroke her hair, as he often did many nights when they were together. He let out another chuckle as he leaned in to whisper into her ear...

"I'll always be here to stay...Dummy…"

[evanescentreverie]

Perform (SVT Hoshi)

I love it when you perform

The first time you saw him was on stage, his whole being poured into his dancing. The way he moved his feet to the beat, the way his arms never missed the perfect angles they needed to be in but most importantly, you saw how much he poured his emotions into dancing. For you, it was absolutely ethereal and you felt lucky to even be standing on the same stage as he.

You knew at that moment, you fell in love with his passion.

─── ･ ｡���☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"I really admire Hoshi from Seventeen. I just really enjoy it when I see him dance."

You watched yourself as you muttered those words. You saw how your cheeks turned a slight pink, how your fellow members told the interviewer the things that you would rather keep to yourself. You saw how you turned into a bashful girl in front of the camera, shying away from the spotlight.

"Is there anything you'd like to say to Hoshi?" The emcee had asked you. You cringed when you saw how nervous you were being.

You remembered taking a deep breath before answering, "Hoshi-sunbaenim, I really hope you continue to dance your heart out because you inspire me, as well as the others, to do what they desire to do." You gave a small smile at the end as you bowed, waving at the camera once you stood up straight.

You threw your phone on your bed as you felt your cheeks heat up, heart pounding in your chest, "Oh gosh, what if he sees this?"

You walk towards your bed, jumping in it and taking your phone to scroll in Twitter. Immediately, you saw that Hoshi was trending and you somehow had a feeling as to why. You sighed before shutting it off, reminding yourself that it wasn't wise to look at the tweets. Realizing you weren't going to be able to sleep, you stood up from your bed and headed towards the door, ready for another night of polishing your dancing skills.

"Let's just hope he doesn't see that."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Thank you so much for your love and support Carats! Horanghae!"

You couldn't believe your eyes, your inspiration was right in front of you and within arm's reach. You were sure that your eyes were starry, admiration clearly showed on your face. You were happy for them, you were happy that they have won. Their song was something you listened to multiple times a day, even going as far as learning the dance (Hoshi's part of course). So, to see him right in front of you, close to doing an encore, was something unbelievable.

The groups on the stage slowly dispersed, allowing Seventeen to perform fully on stage. As you passed by them, you took a glance at Hoshi, only to see that he was already looking at you. Your cheeks flushed as you bowed respectfully, Hoshi bowing in return as he smiled his signature smile at you.

He was the first to look away as you exited the stage. You felt dizzy, feeling as if the scene in front of you was unreal. You held your cheeks, fanning yourself to cool down your face. You saw your members worrying about you, causing you to smile and wave off their concern.

You walked to the bathroom, thankful that it was empty as you took a moment to calm yourself. 'That was too much.' You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath before looking at the mirror. You couldn't stop your smile, heart feeling giddy as you remembered the interaction. 'I can't believe Hoshi looked at me.' You giggled to yourself. You swore that if people were to look at you right now, they would believe that you were going crazy. Maybe you were but that only meant you were extremely happy.

Once you were sure that you were calm, you exited the bathroom. What greeted you as you did, however, was the very person that caused your pounding heart.

Your eyes widened as he approached you, waving at you with a smile on his face. You froze on spot, unknowing of what to do in this situation. Do you wave? Do you smile? Do you greet him? Your thoughts ran a hundred miles per hour, mind malfunctioning at the very sight of him approaching you. He stood near you, his smile never leaving as he reached out his hands, a signal for you to shake it.

"Nice to meet you! I'm Hoshi!" You looked at his hands, clenching your fist as it was feeling very clammy. You wiped the sweat off of your hands as you nervously reached out for his hands.

"Hoshi-sunbaenim! It's... It's a p-pleasure." You mentally kicked yourself for stuttering, cheeks feeling red as you removed your hold from his.

He chuckled at your form, "I saw your video and I really want to say that I appreciate your words. It really meant a lot to us as a group but most importantly, me as a dancer." He looked at your eyes, a small genuine smile present on his lips. "So, thank you."

You felt your brain shut down at the sight of his smile. You could hear your heart loudly pounding against your chest, your stomach feeling a sense of anxiousness.

"I-I-I..." You looked down, hands fiddling with the hem of your skirt. "Thank you for inspiring me, Hoshi-sunbaenim."

You heard him chuckle, "You know, you're not a bad dancer yourself. You're the main dancer of your group right?"

You could only nod, mouth unable to form any words.

"I can definitely see why. You have this aura when you dance that mesmerizes the viewer." You gaped at him, mind not believing his praise. You felt your whole body fill with happiness, the sudden praise serving as a newfound passion in you.

You gave him a bright smile, eyes teary from the surge of emotions. "To hear that from you," You paused as you pursed your lip, trying to contain the amount of happiness that resides in you. "It really means a lot to me Hoshi-sunbaenim."

The conversation stopped as Hoshi stared at you, causing you to feel a sense a feeling of self-consciousness. Seeing this, Hoshi's grin returned, "Hey! we should hang out sometime! You know, to give you a couple of pointers."

It was then that your brain short-circuited, cheeks warming at his sudden invitation. You could only stare at him in shock as he waited for an answer. A few minutes passed and Hoshi's expression switched to that of concern, waving his hands in front of you.

"(Y/n)?"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"I like you (Y/n)."

Very rarely does Hoshi's expression turns serious and right now was one of those moments. At first, you thought that he was joking, seeing as you were closer now than before. You could even consider each other as best friends so seeing him confess to you was something that you didn't expect any more. Sure you had a crush on him the first few times you met but you realized that the friendship the two of you had was priceless and quickly brushed the feelings aside.

"What?" You gaped at his statement, still finding his sudden confession hard to believe.

"I like you, (Y/n). I have been liking you for a while now." He looked away, "It's okay if you don't like me back but know that I do."

Your heart pounded against your chest, lips pursed as you thought of a reply. The more you think about it, the more you didn't have to. You smiled as you held his cheeks, forcing him to look at you directly.

"You idiot," You gave him a warm smile, "but you're my idiot. I like you too."

You saw how his face slowly changed into a happy one, maybe even going as far as elated. "You do?!" His whole being exuded happiness, from his shaking shoulders to his large grin, you knew he was extremely happy.

You laughed at the change in his demeanor, admiring the way he releases his happiness "I do. I like you more than you know."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"You will break up with him or there will be consequences."

You remembered the CEO's words as she yelled at you, demanding you to remove Hoshi from your life. She had found out from an unknown photographer that send pictures of the two of you strolling on a late-night once.

Your lips quivered at the thought of leaving him but you had to. You still had a lot to do, a lot to show, and a lot of promises to keep.

There was also the fact that he had so much more to lose than you. So you had to leave him, to keep the both of you safe.

You allowed yourself to cry, feeling as if you had to be strong in front of him. "I'm sorry, Soonyoung."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"I'm tired of this. Let's break up."

Often, you wonder about a life different than what you have. If things would have turned out differently. If the two of you had very different jobs and if you two weren't bound by a contract.

You stared at him as he cried, cried as you held it desperately inside of you. You didn't have the right to cry with him, you didn't have the right to show how absolutely devastated you were. You kept your face stoic and your eyes cold, expression void of any sort of emotions.

You rarely saw him like this. In fact, it was the first time you saw him weep like this. He held your hand tightly as he kneeled in front of you, head buried in your palms as he begged for you to stay. Your heart broke at the sounds of his cries, used to hearing his melodic laugh.

"Let's talk this through, okay? Please," He looked up at you and it took every willpower you've got to hold back your emotions. "I need you, (Y/n)." His voice broke at every word as tears spilled from his eyes. You removed your hands from his hold as you took a deep breath.

"There's nothing to talk about. I just don't love you anymore." You heard him sob as you felt your heart drop. With one more glare, you spoke once more. "Don't call me, Don't contact me. Just... leave me alone."

With that, you walked away, the tears you've been holding back finally letting themself drop. You held in a sob before entering a taxi. The moment you've entered, you choked out a sob, your emotions spilling as you failed to hold it in. You hid your face in your hands as you sobbed, your body trembling at the overwhelming sadness you felt.

'I'm sorry it had to turn out this way.'

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The crowd buzzed as you look for your seat with your friend. You hid your face as much as you could, not wanting to be recognized by this large crowd. It would cause a lot of controversies, after all.

"Um," You lowered your mask as you tapped the shoulder of your friend beside you, the girl immediately turning to you.

"Yes?"

You gave her a sheepish smile, "Do you mind if you bring my album with you for them to sign?"

She glanced at you with a confused expression, "Why? Do you not want to meet them?"

"I do but with what happened, I'm not sure I have the courage to do so." You chuckled sadly. She gave you a knowing look before nodding, "Alright, give me your album and I promise to return it after."

You shot her a grateful smile, "Thank you so much."

She smiled before nodding, standing up to get in line. You raised your mask back to its original place and watched as she waited, the line moving at a steady pace. You watched as she approached each member before finally reaching him. Your heart beat nervously, wondering what his reaction would be.

I love it when you perform

You saw how his eyes widened, how his head shot up immediately to look at the person in front of him. You saw how his expression saddened when he realized it wasn't you. You saw him look around the crowd, making you alert of his scanning.

You lowered your hat in order to avoid being seen, biting your lips in anxiety. You counted a few seconds before returning your gaze towards him, smiling sadly when you see his visible disappointment.  You knew that you had made the right choice and you knew in your heart that things were better this way.

He returned his attention back at the album, a bittersweet smile now placed on his lips. You watched as he wrote something before handing back the album. As your friend reached the final member, she walked towards you and handed your album back.

You once again muttered your thanks, smiling as she told you it was nothing. You opened the album, turning to the page. You held your breath as you read the message, holding back your tears as you did.

I love it more when you cheer me on, (Y/n).

Your heart ached the more you saw it, your hands tracing the familiar handwriting. You slowly looked back at his form, a sad smile now etched into your face. A few minutes later, you stood up from your seat and left, muttering your silent goodbye.

"I really love it when you perform, Soonyoung."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[plus-size-reader]

Never Measure Up

Sokka x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1588 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Entering into an arranged marriage with Sokka

——————————————————————————————————

The water tribes were very traditional.

Everything was done under strict rules and guidelines, operating within all those old traditions that you had never really fully understood. They had remained unchanged for many years, and there was no exception to that.

You were no exception.

It was tradition, and traditions were not to be broken, no matter what. It didn't matter what you tried to do, or who you talked to, there was nothing that could be done to change what was happening.

You, being the second born princess of the Northern Water Tribe, had certain duties that you couldn’t ignore. The chief of those was to do whatever Chief Arnook, your father, to you to do. Usually, that was something that didn't bother you in the slightest.

However, when you heard what he wanted you to do at this particular time, you were much more likely to comply than usual. It was bad enough that Yue had decided to take the place of the moon spirit, but now he wanted to send you away from your home, married to some stranger?

It was crazy.

All you wanted to do was live your life, as intended, without a husband from the southern water tribe. It stressed you out, but the worst part was that you physically couldn't argue with him. If he wanted you to get married, you had to do so.

“Father, I need to stay here, now more than ever” you tried, clutching the dark fabric of your skirt as you pleaded with him. You knew your pleas were falling on deaf ears, but you had to try.

An engagement was hardly something you had been expecting when he said that he wanted to speak with you.

“Nonsense, this is the perfect time to form more steady bonds in the south. We cannot afford to squander such an opportunity” he repeated, saying the same thing he’d been saying for the last few hours.

He didn’t have much more of a reason, it would seem.

Not that he needed one.

Still, how could he expect you to just enter into something like this quietly? You knew it would come eventually, but you had always assumed there would be some kind of negotiation if this day did come.

You should have known better.

“I need you to do this for me, daughter. It’s important for the future of our people” he announced, his voice bellowing as always. There was an element of loss in his tone, telling you just how desperate he was for this to work.

Unity was the only way the other nations had any chance of beating the fire nation, and keeping the water tribes together was imperative to any success. Alone, you couldn't do anything, but together, you had a chance.

As much as you hated it, you knew that it was the truth.

“You’re right father” you conceded finally, turning on your heels to leave before you could change your mind. You knew that whatever you had to say, it wasn't going to change anything. You just needed to have some time alone.

He had a point, of course, as he often did but this had all been so much easier when Yue was around. She was older than you, and had borne the burden of that title for as long as you could remember.

You weren't prepared to have to take this on, and now it was all happening so fast. Now that it was all on you, it was so much more difficult to navigate. Until this point, you had never even thought about having to get married. That was always the path laid out for Yue, who had always been the fairer of the two of you.

...At least as far as you were concerned.

She was stunningly beautiful, and mannerly. She was everything that you had ever wanted to be, and now that you had to take her place, you weren’t sure if you could live up to that.

What if the man you would marry didn’t want to have you? What if he was disgusted by you? What would become of your people then, if he rejected the proposal.

You couldn’t handle letting everyone down.

It was your job to make sure that nothing ever went bad, to make sure that your people were taken care of and safe. If the best way to do that was to marry some stranger from the other side of the world, that was just what you were going to have to do.

So, you agreed to what your father suggested and showed up to the meeting place he arranged with Sokka and his tribe. It wasn't a fool proof process, but the tradition had never led the people astray so they trusted it.

As murky as it may have been, the entire thing was very by the books and as strange as it was, it brought you some kind of comfort. It wasn't super emotional, and took all the anxiety out of the entire process of getting engaged.

If nothing else, it was much less messy than a more freeform proposal.

Still, you could hardly contain your nerves as you walked toward that room. You knew that behind those doors was whatever semblance of future was waiting for you, and the unknown was the worst part of that.

You had no idea what to expect, and you wouldn't until you went in. That was the only thing that you could do, and until you did, you would remain completely in the dark. Nothing was going to change that.

Luckily, before you could stress yourself out too bad over it, the doors opened and you found yourself in the company of someone you recognized. Before this moment, you had no idea who you were going to marry, but you never could have imagined this.

The man you were going to call your husband had been in love with your perfect sister and as relieved as you were that he wasn't a complete stranger, you almost wished he was. At least if you'd never met before, there would be no expectations of you.

Sokka had cared deeply for your sister, and that only increased the stress on you to make sure that the marriage went off without a hitch, and that you could live up to the image Yue'd had in life.

In this moment, it was worse than you could have ever imagined but like everything, you knew that you just had to grin and bare it until it was over. That was all you could do, however, there was really no 'over' at all.

Whatever happened here, this was going to be the rest of your life.

"Hello daughter" your father started, already sitting in the room with Sokka, having been discussing the terms of their deal which he'd already outlined with the other tribe. This had been in the works for a long time, and that was even more of a problem for you.

If this did fall through, people not only in your own tribe, but the southern water tribe would be affected. This was so much bigger than the two of you.

You didn't bother to speak, instead taking your seat beside him. You had never been engaged before, but you knew how these things worked. You had been present for Yue's engagement, for example, and you had the basics down.

"As I'm sure you're aware, your union will do great things for both tribes, as is your duty by birth" he continued, not really looking for any kind of acceptance or reaction from either of you. He just wanted to make sure that this was done the right way.

...And it would be.

Every engagement in these tribes went off without a hitch, with very few exceptions, and  you knew that yours would be no different. All you had to do was sit back and allow everyone else to take care of the details.

It wasn't in your nature, but at this point, you'd come to terms with it. This was what you had to do for the greater good, just as Yue had made her sacrifice for the greater good as well. Everyone had a purpose and this union was potentially yours.

The conversation wrapped up naturally, your father finishing his spiel and taking his leave. It left you and Sokka in the same space, not a work between either of you. You had no idea what to say, but luckily, that was something you had in common.

"So, we're going to get married" he decided, shocking you with the casualness of his statement. It was true, and you knew that but you had yet to hear it spoken aloud until this moment and that was blatant.

Still, you forced a smile.

It wasn't that you didn't like Sokka, or that there was anything wrong with him, you just knew that the feelings he'd had for your sister were never going to go away and you couldn't be Yue. You were never going to be Yue.

"Yes, it appears that we are" you agreed. The two of you sat in silence for a few more moments, not a word shared between you. However, before the pressure became too much, Sokka stood from where he was and made his way over to you.

Wordlessly, he sat down your betrothal necklace, a handmade carving hanging from the center and walking out. That was it, that was the missing piece, and now there was no running away from the truth.

You were going to get married.

[nitewrighter]

So I just read your answer to an ask about Pre-fall Genji and Mercy (The one where Genji watches Mercy fly in the practice range/Moira berates Genji while healing him or smthn) and I love it! Any chance we could get a short follow-up where Genji (eventually) tells Mercy what happened on the mission/what happened coming back from the mission?

Ah, referring back to this fic?

Well the thing about Moira is that in my fic continuity, the cover story for Moira is that Overwatch pushed her to resign after that scandal with her paper, and her involvement with Blackwatch was kept largely secret, even from Mercy, up until my pre-retribution fic. So when Moira was a problem for Genji, he couldn’t really talk about it with Mercy due to Overwatch and Blackwatch’s own fucked up compartmentalization. So after Retribution there was a bit of an elephant in the room. Also Genji’s comments during Retribution and Reyes going “The Ninja agrees with me!” are.... oof. And... whoops the “let me explain what happened/clearing the air” prompt turned into an argument.

Welp. Not all those late-night chats were easy...

----

The knock on the door of the lab caught Mercy mid-yawning stretch. It was still early in the evening at Zurich headquarters, lavender twilight light bleeding over the mountain peaks out her window. Still early enough for it to be pretty much anyone who let this work chew up as much of their personal life as hers. Ana, she thought, heading to the door, About the updated humanitarian projects in Giza, probably. Or maybe Sarioglu about the inoculations on the Siberian--

The door slid open and Genji was standing before her in a loose gray long-sleeved shirt, not his usual Blackwatch hoodie. His arms were folded against himself, his shoulders tucked slightly inwards. He stood up a little straighter as the door opened.

“Doctor Ziegler,” he said her name almost with some surprise, as if she had suddenly materialized in front of him rather than been working in the same lab they had spent countless nights chatting in before.

“...It’s been a while, Genji,” she tried to make her voice warm, but wasn’t sure what he was here for. The dust was almost beginning to settle from the Venice incident, but she had seen virtually nothing of him since that painful exchange in the rec room. The Venice incident itself was still being picked over in longer term publications, and it would definitely keep giving all the news outlets investigative journalism fodder for months to come, but Blackwatch was suspended and a significant amount of its resources had been re-allocated to other Overwatch departments for the duration of its suspension, which was enough for most news outlets to let it drift to the side in favor of more recent events.

There were a few seconds where he seemed to be gathering his thoughts before he said, “I can go if you’re busy--” He wasn’t making eye contact.

“N-no--” her fingers tensed on the doorframe, “I mean...” she moved aside slightly, “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

His eyes met hers and softened for.a few seconds before he caught himself and shuffled into the room, as if the offer might be rescinded. As he had gotten more used to his prosthetics and more settled in with Blackwatch, he had come to carry himself with what some might call grace--a grace that was heavily overshadowed and sharpened by the smoldering anger in his eyes and asymmetry of his prosthetics, but a grace that still spoke to his years of physical and mental conditioning with the Shimada clan. Now, however, his movements were smaller, clumsier even---reminding her almost of their early days of physical therapy and his flinching self-containment, the way he would shrink inside hoodies and skulk in corners.

“So... what are you up to tonight?” he asked, looking around the lab. 

“Just some correspondence,” Mercy shrugged, “There’s... been a lot.”

Piles and piles of emails from former colleagues and activists furious at the fact that I continue to associate myself with Overwatch after this scandal, she thought, And maybe I could deal with them all by releasing a personal statement, but how much of that would just come off as me trying to save face while throwing Overwatch under the bus?

“Not about Venice?” Genji stiffened a little where he stood

“Yes, about Venice,” she folded her arms, her gaze was steady and tired.

“But---that’s not fair. Nothing we did there had anything to do with you--” Genji was genuinely confused.

“Blackwatch is still Overwatch’s responsibility,” said Mercy, “And if there was evidence of weaponized biotics on site, naturally people have questions for me and, of course,” a huffing, uncomfortable chuckle escaped her, “Everything I stand for in working for Overwatch.” 

Genji’s thick eyelashes lowered over the red of his eyes in a combination of frustration and guilt. “I... meant to talk to you about that when I got back...”

Mercy’s shoulders slumped as she turned back to her chair and sat down in it.

“How long was Moira on your team?” she said quietly.

“She... joined about two months after Jack made her tender her resignation,” said Genji, “I was with Reyes the night he recruited her.” 

Mercy’s lips thinned and she wasn’t looking at him. “So... how did it work? Would she just... cartoonishly avoid being seen by hiding behind vending machines? Dipping around corners?”

“I never actually saw much of her in Zurich or Rome. Reyes usually had her working remotely at a black site. The attack on Rome forced us to bring her into Zurich for her own safety and for our response to the attack.”

“So the resignation was all just theater to put her somewhere where she would have even less oversight and accountability,” Mercy’s lips were pulling back from her teeth in frustration.

“I... don’t really know the specifics of it,” said Genji.

Mercy was silent at this, sitting with her hands in her lap. 

“Angela,” he said her name and she looked up at him, “Believe me, if it weren’t for Blackwatch’s procedures, I would have told you. There were so many times I wanted to tell you---”

So many times I wanted you to help... he thought.

“Jack knew?” Mercy said quietly.

“He knew, to an extent,” said Genji, “To be fair, even McCree and I didn’t really know what she was doing at the black site... I suppose we also didn’t want to know.”

“And everyone’s been letting her tinker with my biotics doing god-knows-what to them and then leaving that ugly smear of what was once my work at the site of an act of--of---I don’t know what to call it--Extrajudicial murder?”

“Angela...” he brought up his prosthetic hand, apparently with the intention of putting it on her shoulder, but seemed to think better of it and drew it close to himself, “If I had known Reyes’s actions would impact you like this---”

“So Reyes’s actions are only wrong because they’re negatively impacting me,” said Mercy flatly, “Not because, I don’t know, it’s utterly horrific to shoot someone in the face while in the process of making an arrest?”

Genji was taken slightly aback by her bitterness. Then again... there was a decent chance she had been dealing with whatever angry emails from people all over the world who wanted her to answer for Blackwatch’s actions for several days now. But Blackwatch did the right thing, didn’t it?

“Antonio’s weapons trafficking with Talon was probably killing far more people than that...” Genji floated the words out there, assuming they might calm her down, “If it meant stopping him--”

“’Probably?’” Mercy’s voice was incredulous. She huffed, trying to process, “That-that’s not how this works, Genji. That’s not how the law is supposed to work. You don’t kill people on ‘Probablies!’” 

“The law wouldn’t have worked with him anyway. He bragged that he had allies who would get him out within the week.” 

“That doesn’t mean you kill him!”

“I didn’t kill him, Reyes did! I just--!” Genji huffed, the sound was metallic behind his faceplate, “Look, the Shimada clan are weapons traffickers, too. I know what kind of person we were dealing with.”

“It doesn’t matter what kind of person he is, what matters is the proper procedures! If Overwatch can’t hold itself to those standards, then we can’t call ourselves peacekeepers!” 

“Reyes brought me on the team because I’m an assassin,” Genji’s voice was unsettlingly even.

“You were brought on the team because you have unique intel and skills---”

“From being raised to be an assassin,” there was a smoldering frustration in Genji now, stepping toward Mercy, “Don’t confuse what you want me to be with what I am.” 

Mercy seemed to visibly wince at this. She glared up into his red eyes, her own gray-blue eyes bloodshot from staring at her screens. “Don’t confuse who you are with what’s convenient for Reyes,” she said darkly, “If you don’t see anything wrong with what Reyes did, then Jack suspending Blackwatch was the best call he could make.”

Genji’s skin was burning with fury beneath his faceplate. “Oh and I’m just supposed to sit on my hands and watch the Shimada clan continue to kill people because Blackwatch has to be suspended for Reyes’ mistake.”

“Yes, Genji! That’s how accountability works!” Mercy was wringing her hands. 

“So you’re willing to let--You weren’t-- you have no idea what I-- You--!” Genji was stumbling over his words, his anger seemed to be mashing the ability to translate in his head down into an angry pulp of Japanese with a few english swear words peppered in. He took a sharp seething inhale. “You know what? I’m leaving.”

“Fine!” Mercy threw the word after him as he turned on his heel and stepped out the door of the lab. 

He snarled with frustration beneath his faceplate as he quickly walked down the hall. Folding his arms tight across himself as he stepped into the elevator.

She doesn’t know, she wasn’t there so she has no right to talk about it like... Genji’s organic fingers squeezed on his prosthetic arm, Like... 

He took another breath. Fine, he thought, It’s fine. I’m sick of her acting like I’m anything other than... he looked at his prosthetic hand and realized he was shaking. He closed his fingers into a fist before stepping out of the elevator, still walking, angrily and quickly through the Blackwatch offices towards his own quarters. save for the small lights lining the pathways between desks and offices, Blackwatch was virtually pitch-black.

“Trouble in paradise?” a low melodious voice sounded across the underground offices and Genji flinched to see Moira barely illuminated by the multiple screens of Reyes’s main intel computer, holding a tablet in one hand and a lowball glass of whiskey in the other. She was donning that horn-like reverse biofeed, apparently lazily scrolling through some lab work. Shouldn’t the UN have seized it with the suspension? thought Genji.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Genji said curtly before continuing to walk.

“Personally I like when she gets all sanctimonious while Overwatch is actively screwing her over,” Moira looked back down at her tablet before sipping her whiskey. Genji stopped walking. “Reminds me of those little dogs yapping on the ends of leashes, and then their owners just get tired of them and scoop them up... and there’s a life story in 10 seconds. No power to begin with and all you can do is bark and bark--”

“If you talk about Doctor Ziegler like that again, you’ll--” Genji caught himself.

“Ah. So you were haunting her door,” Moira’s eyebrows raised with some amusement.

“You don’t know,” said Genji, stiffly.

“I know you’re easy to read,” said Moira, not even looking up from her tablet, “And I know we’re all slaves to habit. So what happened?”

“Nothing I’m sharing with you,” said Genji walking forward.

“That’s fine,” Moira kept scrolling through her tablet as Genji walked past her.

She was only a few steps behind him when she spoke up again. “I understand how deeply it stings, when you realize you’re not the person someone built up in their head.”

Genji paused again, his shoulders bunching up, and he glanced back at her.

“But I’ve also always had great admiration for those who know exactly who and what they are. I like to think it’s why Blackwatch was as efficacious as it was.... despite... some personality clashes,” she gave an easy shrug.

Genji was silent for a few seconds. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m only saying that you have my sympathy for finally understanding the difference between those up there,” she nodded up to the ceiling, to the upper levels of Overwatch, “And those of us down here.” 

Something prickled in Genji then. He remembered the weight of his father’s hands on his shoulders, saying, You have to understand, this is who we are. And Genji tensed then. 

“You’re not alone, Genji, that’s all I’m saying,” said Moira, sipping her whiskey.

“Good night, Moira,” was all Genji managed to say as he walked off.

[dangerous-mess]

Breakeven (Kirishima x Bakugo x reader) Part 2

Characters: Bakugo, Kirishima, gender neutral reader, Dabi, mentions of Twice, mentions of Toga

Contains: Polyam relationships, language, implied that someone is drugged, implied of torture, kidnapping, nightmares, implied ptsd, arguing, manga spoilers (chapters 290 and 293), mentions of Bakugou’s hero name, mentions lov, filled with a lot of angst for a while, eventual fluff and happy ending I swear, time skips 

Word Count: 6K+ 

Months had passed since the encounter you had with Kirishima, and since then you had not heard from either of your ex-boyfriends. A part of you enjoyed the break, finally able to focus on yourself and your job. You slowly started to work longer shifts just to keep yourself busy, not sure what to do with the extra time on your hands. Though you would never admit it or say it out loud, you felt like you were missing a few pieces. You tried to fill the void that was left from the breakup, but nothing seemed to work. Eventually, you gave in to your mom’s constant pestering and decided to try the whole dating scene again.

During this time you felt drawn to call or even text the two pro heroes who had stolen your heart all those years ago, but you knew it wouldn’t be worth it, afraid of being hurt once more by the two heroes. So with your busy schedule and being having the advantage as you did in high school, you did the only logical thing. You downloaded a dating app and before clocking into work for the day you made sure to have a profile set up hoping to match with some people during breaks.

You felt giddy, to say the least when you went on your first break of the day. You sat down and quickly pulled out your phone and opened the app. You began looking at profiles, swiping left or right depending on whether or not you felt you two would connect. One profile stood out the most to you, a young man, who appeared to be a bit older than you, You swiped right in a heartbeat and saw that the two of you had matched. You felt your heart skip a beat, quickly checking the time. You had five minutes left before you had to return to work, so you quickly typed out a message to this handsome stranger whose name was Touya. You made sure to apologize in advance for any daily, explaining you were currently at work and about to get off your break.

The rest of your shift went by quickly and you didn’t dare check your phone until you got home. You opened up the app as soon as you closed and locked the door to your apartment, happy to see that the man had replied. He was sweet and kind, and surprisingly wasn’t trying to force anything upon you right away. You texted him late into the night before he excused himself saying that he had work. You bid goodbye as he made a promise to message you when he got the chance. For the first time in a long time, you fell asleep happy, a smile plastered on your face.

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The next few weeks were amazing, to say the least, in your eyes anyway. You finally felt like you found the piece you were missing and felt like things were finally falling into place. You and Touya had talked more often the past few weeks, even going as far and exchanging numbers and calling on the phone. You weren’t in love with him by any means, but just hearing his voice, definitely caused some butterflies to form in your stomach. His voice was just soothing and relaxing. It was calming you down after the intense days at the hospital and a part of you so desperately wanted to meet him, to go on a date with this sweet stranger. So that night when he called you, you took a chance and decided to take a chance and ask him.

“Hey Touya,” You whispered out, as you laid in bed, not wanting the moment to end. You heard him let out a small grunt as a response and you continued on with your question, “Can we, I mean, would you like to go on a date sometime?” You knew your voice quivered and you knew he heard it. There was silence for a moment and you began to shake and feel the tears well up in your eyes.

Finally, he spoke out, apologizing for the delay, he was just so caught off guard, before continuing on, answering the question. “When were you wanting to go on this date, cause if you aren’t busy we could go now? I know a café that just opened we can go to if you’d like.”

You quickly wiped your eyes, a smile growing on your face as the butterflies danced around in your stomach. “That sounds perfect, I’ll get ready if you wanna just text me the address.” You replied as you started to push yourself out of bed.

“Oh, I can give you time and just come pick you up, if you are okay with that.” He mumbled out, and before you could truly process the statement, you agreed. You gave him your address and he gave you a time he would be over, and with that, you hung up and began getting ready for the date.

Now, you weren’t an idiot, and as someone who had dated two pro heroes in the past, one would think you would be smarter than to give a random stranger whom you’ve never met in person and haven’t seen minus his dating profile your number, nevertheless your address, but you trusted this man. Though you would soon learn that was a mistake, and you should have taken better precautions, but alas it was too late.

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You had gotten ready in no time, texting Touya that you were about ready if he wanted to start to head over, to which he replied that he was almost there. You felt your stomach fill with butterflies at the thought of meeting the guy who had brought light back into your life and made you feel like you mattered once more. You were brought back to reality by the sound of your phone going off, letting you know you had a new text, of course, you weren’t surprised to see it was from Touya. He said he was outside and you said you were on your way out. You were smiling like an idiot as you made your way out of the apartment and down to the lobby and front door. As you were about to walk out he said he parked in the alley beside the apartment complex. You thought that was a little weird but shook off the feeling and went out the door and towards the alleyway.

As you approached the alleyway, you didn’t see any car nor did you see anyone either. You called out for Touya before you felt an arm wrap around you from behind.

“Hey Doll,” The voice whispered out and it didn’t take you long to piece that the voice belonged to Touya. You went to turn around, hoping that this was all some prank he was pulling on you, but instead, you were met with a face you didn’t recognize.

“Touya?” You whispered out, your voice cracking at the end, fear starting to settle, as you began to realize what was happening. You started to try and get out of his arm, but his grip on you only tightened. It was a time like this you wished you kept up the training Bakugou forced you to do back at UA.

“How now, little mouse, don’t fight. You’ll only make this harder than it needs to be.” He whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. You started to feel sick to your stomach and realized how big of an idiot you really were. Based on what you knew, you needed to get away or get help now, as your chances of survival decreased by half the moment you are taken away.

You opened your mouth to scream, but was quickly met with a cloth covering your mouth and nose. You tried to hold your breath and not fall victim to this man, but in the end, you failed. You felt the world slowly start to spin and everything starts to go black. The last thing you heard before you were met with total darkness was ‘Touya’ speaking. “Guess you wanted to do things the hard way.”

You woke up what felt like hours later with a massive headache. You tried to move only to realize you were bound to a pole. The room you were in was dark and it was hard to make out anything. You tried to make out some noise, to hopefully call for help or to grab the attention of your capture. You only were able to let out a small groan which wasn’t that loud but clearly loud enough as you heard a voice start to speak from within the darkness.

“Well, well, well. Finally, you are awake, was getting a bit worried for a moment there that the batch was too strong, and killed you.” The voice spoke and before you knew it you were blinded as light filled the room. Your eyes began to readjust and there you saw him, ‘Touya’. You tried to move away from him as he approached you, but you couldn’t, you were just stuck. He stood in front of you for a moment, looking down at you, as if you were beneath him, and honestly, at this moment, you were. He crouched down, making sure he was eye level with you, and slowly lifted his hand, placing it on your cheek. You tried to move your head away from his hand, but that did no good.

“Touya…” You whispered out, your throat dry, making it difficult to get any words out. You looked at him, only to see him pull his hand back before it collided with your cheek. You flinched and fought back the tears that you could feel forming.

“Don’t you dare ever call me that. You’re lucky I let you use it this long. It’s Dabi, do you understand?”

You quickly nodded, fear just continuing to grow. You needed to get out of here or at least find a way to call for help. You had the next few days off work so it would be a few days before anyone even noticed you were missing unless of course, your mother decided to drop in and check on you, but that was a slim chance. You tried to think through a plan, your thoughts drowning out Dabi’s voice. You kept trying to remember everything Bakugou and Kirishima taught you in case something like this happened, but your mind was just going blank.

You were drawn back into reality by a sharp pain on the other side of your face. You looked at Dabi, who appeared to be growing annoyed and pissed off. “Listen to me when I'm talking to you, got it? Trust me you don’t wanna mess with me or anyone else here. We will be your worst nightmare.” You nodded and looked down, too afraid to make eye contact with him. But at least you learned something, he wasn’t alone.

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The next few days were long and torturous. Dabi came to visit often, mostly to degrade you. You slowly began to piece together why you were here and who this group of people were, based on interactions you had with others that Dabi had mentioned on your first day. They were called the League of Villains, which you were familiar with, though you were told that heroes had handled and defeated them years prior, but clearly, that was all a lie. You questioned if the pros knew of this and secretly hoped and prayed that they did and someone would find you sooner than later. You could feel yourself growing weaker every day and as much as you tried to play the hero, it did no use. You were useless against Dabi and the league.

As days turned into weeks you could feel your mental state deteriorating, you won’t be able to hang in much longer. One particular day, one that was quite different than the rest before. You were left alone. No one came in to bring you some scraps and water, no one came to suck the life out of you. You just were met with silence, at least until you heard things crashing from up above. You assumed Twice or Toga had pissed off Dabi again and just ignored it, that was until you heard a familiar voice. A voice you hadn’t heard in so long and you were so grateful to hear it. You tried to call out and get the attention of those on the floor above, but you were weak and couldn’t muster anything louder than a whisper. You began to cry, knowing this was possibly the only chance you had to gain freedom and to be saved from the hell you were in. You kept trying to scream out, to call out for the pro heroes above, but nothing seemed to be working. Even as you heard someone fidget with the door handle at the top of the stairs, you couldn’t make enough noise to get anyone’s attention, at least so you thought.

The door eventually opened and the sound of footsteps came down the stairs. It was dark in the room and you were afraid it was Dabi and could feel your whole body begin to shake, your mind only thinking the worst. Had the heroes lost and you were forever stuck here, with the league. You were going to die here, you would never get to see Kirishima and Bakugou again. You would never be able to tell them how much you still loved them, how much you wanted to try again. You cried harder than you were before, when you felt a pair of hands touch your shoulder, you tried to move away before you heard a comforting voice.

“Y/N, is this you?” It was Kiri’s voice, you tried to let out a yes or something, but just nothing came out. “Dynamight, have you found the light switch yet, it’s hard to see who this is.” He spoke out into the dark, which you heard a voice grumble out, curses flying out. Suddenly the room filled with light and once your eyes adjusted you saw red eyes staring at you. He gave you a sad smile before telling you what he was about to do, as he moved to undo your bindings.

Everything started to happen too fast. You felt the bindings come undone and you were lifted off the ground. You could see Kirishima, or at this moment, Red Riot’s mouth moving but you couldn’t process what he was saying. You wrapped your arms around him tightly as he carried you out of the League’s base and to the ambulance that was waiting outside. He handed you off to the paramedics. You could tell he wanted to go with you, and you desperately wanted to call out to him, and to Bakugou to come with you. They were the only thing you wanted right now, but before you could, the doors slammed shut and your check-up began as you were taken to the hospital. You don’t remember much after that as you could feel your eyelids getting heavy as you passed out.

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Everything was bright, almost too bright and it hurt your eyes. You woke up in the hospital to the sunlight filling up your room. You could hear monitors beeping, letting you know that you were alive. You looked around and saw you were connected to a few machines as well as had an IV drip. And to your surprise, by the windows, you saw two men sleeping. The two men you had been yearning for, deep down, for some time. You cleared your throat, hoping to be able to get their attention, and it worked. Both of them shot up from the chairs, rushing to your side. You offered them both a small smile as they both just stared at you. It was silent for a moment before Kirishima excused himself to go get a doctor or nurse, to let them know you were awake. That just left you and Bakugou alone, and as glad as you were to see him, the last time you were alone with him, things didn’t go well. So needless to say, you were nervous. He glanced down at the bed and back at you as if he was asking permission to sit, so you moved your legs some so he had a room as he sat on the bed, his eyes never once leaving yours.

“Y/N, listen. I’m not good at this type of thing but I just want to say I’m sorry.” He shifted his eyes down, now staring at his hands. He was picking at the skin around his nails, his hands clearly shaking. “I’m sorry for how I treated you that day in the hospital, I shouldn’t have hit you. I’m sorry for making you feel so left out and like we...like I didn’t care or love you. Cause I did, and well still love you.” You tried to reach out and place your hand on him, but due to all the wiring and the IV, it was nearly impossible.

You watched him, as he kept messing with his fingers, his head down. “I worried about you when I got the word you were missing and fuck Y/N, my heart dropped when I heard the league had gotten a hold of you. My mind just kept replaying the last time I saw you, the last thing I did was hit you and I was so afraid that would be the last memory you would have of me, of us.” He turned his head, looking at you as tears ran down his face. You had never seen him this upset before, not like this. He was never one to truly express emotions the same way as others did, so seeing him in this state, made you just want to comfort him. To let him know you forgave him for the wrongdoings, and most importantly that you still loved him more than anything else. But you didn’t get the chance as the door to your room opened as a doctor and Kirishima walked into the room.

You watched Bakugou quickly wipe away the tears on his face and move to the other side of the room, where Kiri soon joined him. The doctor went over everything but you couldn’t focus on what he was saying, you only kept glancing over at the two men across the room. You were going to be in the hospital a little longer, just to make sure you were truly fine, which you weren’t looking forward to. After the doctor left, both of the men stared at you, none of you saying a word. You worked up the strength and courage to speak up, quickly taking a small sip of the water nearby.

“Eijiro...Katsuki..” You spoke out, your voice shaky, just barely above a whisper, but they both still heard you as they made their way towards you. You felt tears start to well up in your eyes as you looked at them. “I...I’ve missed you both so much.” That was all you managed to get out before you started sobbing. Kiri gently wrapped you in a hug as Bakugou held one of your hands. You tried to get more words out, but the tears kept coming and you just could not form any words. The three of you stayed like that for a while, just comforting each other, putting all of your hearts at ease for the first time in a while.

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You were discharged from the hospital in no time and slowly readjusted to normal life once again. You weren’t allowed to return to work quite yet, which did throw off your routine a bit, but it just gave you a chance to settle back into a safe environment. Which was a lot harder than you thought. During the day, things were fine and you went about your day, but by the time night settled, you couldn’t fall asleep without having nightmares from your time with Dabi and the league. And though, the three of you had started to form a friendship again, you were nervous to call them up during the late hours. Worried that you would be waking them from a well-deserved rest or from a patrol. There was also a part of you that was afraid of being pushed away once more, the fear of being the third wheel or shoved aside just to keep up an image, you weren’t ready for that heartache again.

One night, in particular, it got worse. You woke up to yourself screaming and crying, your body completely drenched in sweat. Before you could even process what you were doing, you grabbed your phone and texted the group chat you were in with the two of them. You were quick to receive a message back, but before you could fully read it, your phone started to ring as Bakugou was calling you. You answered the phone, hearing both of the men on the other line, asking if you were okay. All you could do was cry out before they said they were on their way over. Kirishima talked to you on the phone the entire time, as you learned Bakugou was driving. You couldn’t process or even fully comprehend everything that was being said, it even took you several moments to understand that you needed to go let them into your apartment once they arrived.

You let them in, and it took no time for both of them to be at your side, comforting you any way they could. Kirishima tried rubbing your back and offering affection and his support that way, while Bakugou sat beside you, whispering that he was there to listen when you were ready to talk about it. It took a while, but eventually, you calmed down. You quietly thanked them both for coming over, not sure what else to say or do, as you didn’t want to talk about the nightmare, even if it would do more good to do so. It was just difficult, to form into words and then not be seen as weak or receive pity for how you were feeling. You bid them goodbye and thanked them again for coming over, as you made your way to the kitchen to make some tea, as you had decided to stay up a bit longer, afraid of what twisted things awaited you once you closed your eyes.

You weren’t in the kitchen very long before you saw two figures walk in and join you, causing you to sigh. “You two can leave, I’m fine now.” You said, carefully putting the kettle on the stove, before turning it on. It was quiet for a moment or two before one of them spoke up, breaking the silence.

“Y/N, don’t push us away, talk to us. We wanna help any way we can, even if it is just listening to what is going on in your mind.” You recognized the voice to be Kirishima’s and you swiftly turned around. Your emotions were all over the place, due to lack of sleep, and the images of the nightmare still fresh in your mind. “If anyone has the right to be pushed away, it’s you two. You both shoved me away, don’t you remember. And just because we are talking again doesn’t mean I’m going to be stupid enough to spill out everything to you both again.” The words spilled out, and though you didn’t mean for it all to come out so aggressive and filled with venom, it did. You were tired, hurting, and trying to recover from the things that had happened to you. It didn’t excuse you for what you were doing right now, but you had the right to speak your mind and speak the truth.

“Y/N..” Bakugou started to speak, but you shut him down.

“No, don’t you dare ‘Y/N’ me. I can forgive you for some of the shit you both did to me, but it doesn’t mean I am going to just let you back in and trust you with my entire being, how can I? Even if I tried to explain it all to you, you wouldn’t even understand, want to know why? Because it’s always Kirishima and Bakugou, having each other’s back. Kiri and Bakugou protecting each other from everything. Red Riot and Dynamight are always there for each other, no matter what. So just do me a favor and leave.” You let out a sigh as you finished talking, hoping they would just turn and leave, yet they stood there not saying a word. If you had more sleep and were in a better place, this situation won’t upset you, but right now it made you angry.

The two of them just standing in front of you, silently, filled you with rage. You couldn’t explain why, maybe it was from the lack of sleep or maybe it was because the three of you had yet to really address what had happened all those months ago. You quickly turned the stove off as the kettle whistled, leaving the water on the stove, no longer wanting it.

“It used to be us, Eijiro, Katsuki, and Y/N, back in UA. We were inseparable and sure we had issues but we always talked about them. Then you two were heroes and rising up the charts and I was left in the dust. And then it was more of you two, and I was the third wheel. Fuck, you two didn’t even care when I left after ‘Suki proposed. You could have stopped me or called or something, but I was met with silence. Just like I’m being met with the same silence now, you both are here but it’s almost as if you aren’t at the same time. It’s like the both of you two are completely blinded by everything going on with other people.” You made your way out of the kitchen and made your way to the couch. You sat down and all at once everything that just happened and what you said to hit you, hard. You didn’t regret what you said, for it was the truth, though you were sure you could have phrased or worded it better. A few moments later, both of the boys were on the couch, sitting on either side of you. It was silent once more before one of them spoke out.

“Listen Y/N, we should have talked about this sooner, as it’s obvious now that what happened months ago is still affecting how you see and view both of Katsuki and I.” Kirishima started speaking, you waited for Bakugou to chirp in some smart-ass response, but he was silent, allowing the red-haired man to continue speaking. “We should have reached out to you sooner after you left. Fuck Y/N, we should have reached out and spoken to you the moment we thought you were pushing us away. We were stupid for not doing so and there isn’t anything I can say that’ll make it better or not sound like some sorry excuse. You deserved better, you still do, whether that is from us or not.”

Kirishima stopped and looked at Bakugou, who was quick to join in. “We were, and still are dumbasses, as you’ve probably noticed. And I know, we should have reached out to you sooner, I should have talked to you sooner. I should have explained the whole engagement thing to you before it happened, or even told you that day in the hospital. You were our partner, and we totally excluded you.”

You lifted your head, glancing at both of the men, thoughts running through your mind. You had questions that needed answers, questions that for weeks after the initial breakup kept you awake most nights. You cleared your throat before asking the first question, the biggest one you had. “Why didn’t either of you call or text? Why did it take weeks upon weeks to hear from you Katsuki and Eijiro?” You could see them both exchange looks before Bakugou started speaking again.

“Truth be told, I didn’t notice the note until a few days after you were long gone. I figured you were working extra shifts and work was keeping you busy. When I saw the note, I was pissed and hurt and just assumed you would come back and when it became clear you weren’t I blamed you for leaving, I didn’t want to think it was my fault. I ended up coming to the hospital, hoping to sort things out and well, we know how that went.” He nervously chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. You turned your attention back to your hands, trying to keep yourself grounded as you felt a part of your heart break. You wanted answers and knew you won’t like what you hear, but god you didn’t expect it to hurt this badly.

“I was hardly home for a while after you left. I got busy with hero work and taking in students for work-study, I just slept at my office. ‘Suki texted me while I was at work, saying I needed to come home. He found the note, and I wanted to go after you, but I thought maybe time apart would do us some good, and well, I figured you would come back. After the incident at the hospital that you and Katsuki had, I needed time. And when I was ready to talk, I expected you to be with your parents, and after some explaining to your mom, she told me where to find you.” He paused for a moment, before quickly adding in, “Speaking of your mother, she is quite a fierce woman, to say the least.”

The room filled with silence once more, causing you to drift into your thoughts. So you got the answers on why it took weeks for them to come to talk to you about the note, but they never explained why they didn’t text or even call, which just hurt you more.

“Why didn’t you call or text, you didn’t answer that part, and I need to know.” You practically cried out, looking between both of them, watching as their heads fell. The room filled with silence before Kiri spoke out, he was quiet and you couldn’t make out anything he said, you asked him to repeat and instead had Bakugou practically yell out.

“We didn’t know what the fuck to say dumbass.” That was all he said before it filled with silence once again. You wanted to speak up, tell them both they could have said anything, just something to let you know they cared and mattered to them, and without hesitation, you did just that.

“You could have sent anything, I wouldn’t have cared what the hell you said. Just a sign from either of you would have been enough. I left because you pushed me away, I was the third wheel and I hoped that maybe with me leaving that you both would realize your mistakes and come running after me. Pleading through texts and calls to come home, but instead, I was met with silence.” You stopped, feeling tears run down your cheek, silently cursing at yourself. You wanted to be strong through this, but you couldn’t. “I fucking loved you both and thought you felt the same, but it became very clear that you didn’t.”

“Y/N…” They both started to speak out, tears starting to form in both of their eyes.

“No, I don’t wanna hear it, you can’t fix that now, it’s too late. And god to top it all off, you both are engaged, and I had to find out with the rest of the fucking country. My own boyfriends engaged as I was at home clueless, never hearing a word about it.” You were quickly cut off by Bakugou who had started to speak over you.

“I didn’t have time to talk about it with you, the commission made me. They wanted something big and exciting in the news, and since fucking Deku is always shining, they wanted us to bring some news. They told me to go get a ring and propose, and I can’t argue with them, they do control my job!”

You just stared at Bakugou, unable to form any sentences or coherent thought, for that matter. Sure, you understood that he had no choice, but you just wished he would still have talked to you about it, even if it was a quick text 30 seconds before the entire country saw it. You just wished and wanted things to be different or even how they were before you all were adults and they were pro heroes, but that would never happen, and you knew that. You all sat in the living room for a while, no words exchanged, just silence. You eventually caught yourself dozing off as the sun started to peek through the curtains and for once you just let your body rest.

You woke up hours later, content to have gotten some sleep, nightmare free. You glanced around and didn’t see or hear either man in the house, meaning they left while you slept. You knew they had to, they were heroes, but you still wanted them here. You wanted to apologize and just...no that would be silly. You pushed the thought away, and got up from the couch, stretching and going into the kitchen. Upon entering you were surprised to see Bakugou at the stove, scrambling some eggs. You cleared your throat and he turned around and offered you a small smile, which was a rare sight, even for how close you two once were.

“I’m not sure how good these will be, but I figured this would be a good start to make things up to you and to apologize.” He spoke softly, staring at you before turning his attention back to the stove. “Oh, Kiri, went to the store to grab a few things, he should be back soon.” He said, almost as if he knew you were curious as to where the other was.

“‘Suki, don’t you have work today? Correction, don’t you both have work?” You questioned, going to the fridge and pouring yourself some juice before sitting at the table.

“We both called off. We called off for a while actually, on-call if any huge villain attack happens but everyone will be fine for a while without Red Riot and Dynamight. Eijiro would be better at this than me, but we know we can’t fix the past and what we did and how we treated you, but we want to make up for it. We want you to know we still love and care for you, that you matter to us.” He spoke, his voice growing quieter as he went on, but you still heard every word to it. You went to go speak up, but you were cut off by the front door opening and Kirishima walking in.

He walked into the kitchen, bags in his hands, and smiled at you before apologizing for taking the key to your apartment. You smiled at him, chuckling, letting him know it was okay. The two of them finished making breakfast, a huge one at that, before joining you at the table where you all ate. Things wouldn’t be easy, but for now, you knew this was a start.

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Weeks had passed and both pro heroes had practically stayed at your apartment the entire time. You enjoyed the time with them as you had truly missed this You had missed them so much more than you realized. And you knew that soon they would have to return to their own apartment and return to the life of being a full-time hero, but at the moment you didn’t want it to end. Sleeping became easier with them near, as the nightmares slowly became fewer and farther apart. You knew they couldn’t cure what happened or your mind, and you may always experience nightmares about all that happened with Dabi, but with them? With the two of them, it was so much easier to handle, for you weren’t alone. You were by two people who you had come to love again, and a part of you could only hope they felt the same about you.

You were all cuddling in bed, just talking and laughing about who knows what, when Bakugou broke the news. He told you he had to return to work tomorrow and Kiri the day after. You couldn’t help it and just cried, both of them holding you close. You knew this was coming but it still hurt. Both of the heroes comforted you the best they could, calming you down, whispering promises of staying in contact and visiting often. It then crossed your mind and with tear-filled eyes, you looked at them both and realized it had crossed theirs as well. The big question, what were you three. Would they even allow or want to be in a relationship with you or was this all some platonic friendly thing happening between you three.

“Katsuki? Eijiro? What….what are we?” You whispered quietly, and for a moment you weren’t sure if they heard you. You had begun to get nervous as you waited for some sort of answer. You were caught off guard by Bakugou chuckling and you turned yourself so you were looking at him. “And what is so funny?” Slightly offended with why he thought now was the perfect time to laugh. You were asking a perfectly reasonable question, that had to be on all your minds.

“God Y/N, you are such a dumbass. I don’t know if I speak for Kiri over there, but I assumed we were dating again. Like I know platonic cuddles are a thing, but uhh when have I been known to do that?” He laughed even more as you pushed your up and out of the arms of the men. He had a fair point, you couldn’t argue with that.

A smile formed on your face as you looked between the two, “Well that’s good to hear, I wanna be with you both again. If you’ll have me, of course.” At this point, they were also sitting up and staring at you, a cheesy grin on both of their faces. They both nodded and you started grinning from ear to ear. “That’s good to know, means I can finally do this again,” you spoke quickly before kissing them both.

The road ahead of you three won’t be easy, and there were bound to be challenges you all would face just like before. But this time, you all were prepared and could better handle anything that was thrown at you.

Taglist: @candybabey @peachiikichu

[janeofcakes]

Soulmates: How John Met Sherlock...Again  Chapter 5

Hello, my lovelies. Another post on Saturday?? You spoil us, Jane! I know it's crazy, but I love you all and being in touch again means a lot to me. Hmm. Well, that was more heartfelt than I'd planned. Suffice it to say, I'm in a bit of a mood. I got some bad news yesterday and will know more on Tuesday. I don't want it to keep me from posting because you all DO mean a lot to me and your support does to. We'll just have to see how things go.

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Sunday morning is awash with breakfast and icing and wrapping Olive’s gift for Mycroft. Sherlock struggles to keep his mind off John at first, but he is quickly caught up in their preparations and Olive’s constant chatter. Soon they are in one of his brother’s sleek black cars and on their way to a luxury flat all too near their own. Of course, another country wouldn’t be far enough away for Sherlock. There were only two reasons Mycroft had become more tolerable over the last eight years and one of them was sitting next to Sherlock asking questions and telling him her plans for the party. When Olive came into Sherlock’s life Mycroft finally believed, once and for all, that his little brother would not use again and would take care of himself. For all the modifications he made for raising a child, his life was significantly more simple without Mycroft’s interference.

Sherlock stares straight ahead, not really seeing the back of their driver’s head or the rear view mirror. He hears Olive as she continues talking at top speed, but is not listening at all. He would never ignore her, of course, and he will pay for it if she realizes he is distracted. Sherlock will risk it though to review the particular thoughts running through his mind.

John is back in London. He does not live far from Sherlock and has a daughter in Olive’s class. Mycroft knows it. He must know it and yet, he said nothing to Sherlock. Not even so much as a hint or, more likely, horning in to advise Sherlock to stay away from the doctor. He said nothing, did nothing. Mycroft could have stopped Sherlock from ever meeting Gracie’s father if he had wanted to. Why hadn’t he?

Sherlock rolls this around in his mind as they turn a few more corners, traversing the busy streets of London. Mycroft has always meddled in Sherlock’s life, always tried to control things. In spite of the improvements to the situation, Sherlock knows his brother would never pass up the chance to keep him away from John. We wouldn’t want you to be reminded of the past and return to old habits, would we, Sherlock? That’s what the pompous ass would say. Sherlock glares ahead unseeing, his grey eyes narrowing and the delicate skin beneath them contracting. Mycroft has done nothing that Sherlock would have expected in this scenario and the most likely conclusion is also the most ludicrous. Can it be that Mycroft wants Sherlock and John to meet again? If he is not actively trying to keep them apart, has he somehow orchestrated John’s move back and their subsequent meeting? The world is seldom so careless.

“Dad?” Olive’s irritated tone breaks Sherlock’s concentration and he looks to her instantly, trying to keep a guilty expression from his face.

“Hm?” Sherlock hums a reply, picking apart what words he had heard her speaking.

“Are you even listening?” Olive asks, her eyes narrow slits of suspicion. Knowing there is no escape, Sherlock opens his mouth to confess, but Olive barrels on before he can say a word. She obviously cares less about what he was doing before than she does about having his attention now. “I’m going to tell them all about Gracie and our pirate adventures in the park and that she likes Nancy Drew and what’s going on with Samantha Jones and…”

“You have so much to tell that they won’t get a word in,” Sherlock interrupts her with a light tease in his tone. “You may have to wait for another time. It is his birthday, after all.”

“Pfft,” Olive blows out a dismissive breath that makes her lips vibrate. “Dad, you know how much Uncle Mycroft likes my updates.”

Sherlock inhales slowly as he quickly considers the truth of her statement. He tilts his head and nods, his lips pressed together and brows arched.

“We’re here!” Olive squeals suddenly as the car comes to a stop in front of a very stylish 19th century building. The little girl throws open the door and leaps out of the backseat, making a b-line for the front door. She has barely taken her fingertip off the bell before the door opens and she dashes inside to find her uncles.

Sherlock follows at a more leisurely pace, making his way to the kitchen. He knows the two men will be there preparing lunch for four together. John’s face invades his thoughts again as he walks. He has more grey than Sherlock remembers, but the blonde is still more prominent. John would disagree, no doubt, but it suits him. He looks very dignified, which is a good look for a doctor. John looks good in general. He is still fit, his eyes still bright and clear, and still the eye-catching blue Sherlock saw in his dreams for years after John left. There are a few additional lines around them, but they are still gorgeous and so is John. God, how Sherlock has missed him and in so many ways.

Finally reaching the kitchen, Sherlock pushes the swinging door open and is greeted by a sight that warms his heart every time, in spite of Mycroft being one of its major players. As per usual, Olive ran headlong into the room and jumped into her uncle’s arms. The result is a penny-clad Mycroft holding her off the ground in a tight embrace as she hugs him to within an inch of his life. Sherlock has to admit he could never imagine his brother as an uncle and certainly not a good one, but Mycroft has adored Olive and his role in her life from the day she was born. The man certainly has changed. Of course, having a lighthearted partner has helped considerably.

“There he is,” Greg Lestrade says loudly with a smile on his face. Olive twists around to look at her father, eyes sparkling silver.

“I told you he wasn’t far behind,” she beams as Greg approaches the detective, reaching for the cake holder in his hands. She turns to Mycroft and tilts her chin up proudly. “I put the icing on your cake myself, Uncle Mycroft. I even tubed happy birthday on it.”

“Piped, sweetie,” Sherlock corrects her as Greg takes the covered container with a hello and a ta. The detective trails behind and places the two bags he is holding on the table against the wall. Greg looks up after depositing the cake on the same table.

“You did?” Mycroft asks with as sincere a smile as he will ever have. “Thank you, my sweet. I can’t wait to see it.”

“Daddy says we have to wait until after lunch,” Olive states in a serious tone laced with excited energy.

“He’s right, you know,” Mycroft says, lightly touching her nose.

“What?” Sherlock cocks his head, wearing an expression of mock surprise. “Would you mind repeating that? Greg, where’s your mobile? I want this documented.”

“You are entertaining as ever, brother mine,” Mycroft says wryly as he returns Olive’s feet to the ground. “Come on, Olive, you can help me check the ham.”

“Can I wear the oven mitts?” she bubbles on the way to the oven.

“Of course,” Mycroft says, motioning for her to hold up her hands like a doctor who has just scrubbed in for surgery. He puts one large mitt over her right hand and another on the left, then tugs on his own and adopts a similar posture. “Ready?”

“Ready and waiting,” Olive replies. Mycroft picks up a meat thermometer and hands it to her. They nod once at one another and bend down to open the oven door and peer inside.

Greg and Sherlock can neither one stifle their chuckles as they watch. After eight years, Sherlock can still scarcely believe it. He turns back to Greg in another minute, observes the man’s curious expression and cocks a brow.

“What’s all this then?” Greg motions toward the bags. 

“Olive insisted we bring gifts and candles,” Sherlock tells him and Greg begins to laugh. “I told her fire alarms may sound if we actually light 59 candles, so we agreed the orange ones represent ten candles each.”

“Fantastic,” Greg laughs, patting Sherlock’s shoulder with one hand. Meanwhile, Mycroft gives his baby brother a perturbed look that vanishes as soon as Olive asks if she can fill everyone’s glasses with ice and water in the last few minutes before the ham is finished. She goes to the freezer as Mycroft fills a pitcher and they both push through the swinging door to the dining room. Greg drops the smile as soon as they are out the door and fixes Sherlock with a serious gaze that genuinely startles the detective, but cocking his brow again is the only hint of the emotion.

“So you saw him,” Greg says without preamble. It is not a question and confirms what Sherlock has suspected since the moment he laid eyes on John Watson in Regents.

“Why?” Sherlock snarls. He might have saved his ire for Mycroft alone, but Greg going in on the deception stings and more than a little. The CDI glances toward the door and squares his shoulders with Sherlock’s, looking into the detective’s death glare without wavering.

“I didn’t know until last night,” Greg’s tone is urgent and in much the same style it is on a crime scene. “Myc told me when he got home. How are you?”

“Why?” Sherlock repeats with no less anger.

“He thought it best you not know,” Greg tells him with a shrug that is somewhere between apologetic and my life partner is an idiot, “but knew he couldn’t keep the secret once Gracie turned up in Olive’s class.”

Sherlock is silent. His anger does not lessen, but Greg no longer shares its focus. That honor belongs to his brother alone once more. Greg eyes his glowering face and shifts his weight back for a better view of Sherlock’s body language. What greets him are muscles stiff with fury and a clenched jaw. Sherlock has told Mycroft many times what will happen if he continues his attempts to control Sherlock’s life. Obviously, Sherlock has not yet made his position clear.

“You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?” Greg cringes, watching the muscles in Sherlock’s jaw work.

“Yes,” Sherlock glares, not mincing words. Greg squares his broad shoulders and raises his hands, palms out.

“Okay, but let him explain why,” he begins.

“You told me why,” Sherlock snaps, growing tired of the conversation. He blows out a petulant breath and straightens his spine to stand at his full height. For all his posturing, Greg does not even seem to notice. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t say anything about his reasoning,” Greg presses. Sherlock fixes him with narrowed eyes and a look that screams ‘You must be kidding’.

“His reasoning,” Sherlock repeats, annoyed and incredulous. “Oh, for god sake.”

“You’ll want to know what it is,” Greg says lightly, arching his brows. “It makes sense. Well, by his way of thinking.”

Sherlock’s whole face drops into an expression of indignance that says it all.

“I’m not saying I agree with him, or that he isn’t being an ass AGAIN,” Greg admits with a shrug of his shoulder, “but it makes sense. To his…”

“Way of thinking, yes,” Sherlock finishes with a growl. He opens his mouth to launch into a tirade on his brother’s incessant interference when Olive suddenly bursts through the swinging door, followed by the man himself. If Mycroft notices the tension in the air, or Sherlock’s thunderous expression, he does not show it as he and Olive walk straight to the oven.

“It is definitely ready to come out now,” Mycroft is saying while putting oven mitts on Olive again, one by one. “We’ll take it out and transfer it to the platter. Then I’ll slice it while you hold it steady with this.”

He holds up a long, two-pronged meat fork and Olive’s eyes go wide. She nods enthusiastically, chanting ‘yes, yes, yes’ and hops from one foot to the other.

Sherlock and Greg break away, taking side dishes and rolls into the dining room. Within minutes, the four of them are seated at the table and passing around food. Sherlock pushes down his anger and engages in comfortable conversation with the others, although Olive does most of the talking. She answers her uncles’ inquiries about school and the most recent experiment she and Sherlock have done. She tells them about the seeds they planted in a window box they had just installed in the kitchen as part of a science unit, but she mostly talks about Gracie and all of the things they do together.

“Wow,” Greg leans back in his chair, slightly pushing away his plate. “She sounds like quite a best friend. Almost like the perfect one for you.”

Greg turns his head slowly and stops on Sherlock with a pointed expression. The detective meets his gaze and gives a nearly imperceptible twitch of his head in response. Mycroft does not so much as glance at Sherlock, just as he has done throughout the meal. It isn’t that he is avoiding Sherlock’s eyes and with it, his ire, he merely knows his little brother and his “moods” well enough to wait for the appropriate time and place. In the past, Sherlock would have been more than happy to press the issue no matter who was in the room, if for no other reason than to humiliate Mycroft, but not now. Not with an excited child in the seat next to him and especially not on his brother’s birthday when said child is practically falling out of her chair from fidgeting for cake, songs, crackers and presents. 

“She certainly does,” Mycroft says in his usual tone. It sounds condescending when he speaks to Sherlock, but is fond and pleasant when addressing Olive. “You two have so much in common. Have you had your playdate yet?”

His voice rises at the question, but in the way he uses only when he already knows the answer and is actually prodding Sherlock. The detective blinks slowly, not rising to the bait as Mycroft finally glances his way with a knowing expression. Damn him.

“Not yet, but we’re working on it,” Olive replies with a significant nod and raised brows. She tries to wink at him, but only succeeds in contorting her face and deliberately blinking both eyes very slowly. Greg just stifles a laugh, but cannot hide the grin on his face. He clears his throat to cover and begins to rise while reaching for his plate. 

“Why don’t we get the cake, Olive?” he suggests. “You can put all the candles on.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Olive chants, jumping out of her seat. She grabs her own empty plate and turns to Sherlock. “Can I take yours, Dad?”

“Yes. Thank you, sweetie,” he hands it to her and she follows Greg through the swinging door. Sherlock inhales deeply, gathering himself so his annoyance does not spill forth now that he and Mycroft are alone. He lets his gaze slide over to his brother, who is already watching him expectantly with narrowed eyes. Sherlock looks at him coolly and says nothing. They can hear Olive and Greg giggling in the kitchen as they ready the cake and dessert plates. Mycroft keeps his eyes trained on Sherlock, waiting for an insult or snide question. The detective’s face remains neutral as he continues to sit in silence. He will not give Mycroft the easy out of beginning this conversation with a fight, not to mention he has no intention of starting something Olive could walk in on.

Mycroft finally sighs loudly and shifts in his seat to lean forward, resting his forearms on the table. Sherlock cocks a brow and narrows his eyes, lips pressing together in a thin line.

“Sherlock,” the elder Holmes’ tone is back to condescension. 

“No,” Sherlock’s hand shoots up with the command. Mycroft’s brows arch in response. He looks as though he might try to continue speaking, so Sherlock pins him with a glare that demands Mycroft keep his mouth shut. Nevertheless, he parts his pursed lips and draws a breath.

The swinging door flies open as Olive and Greg burst in.

“Happy Birthday, Uncle Mycroft!” they cry together with big grins on their faces. Greg carries the cake, complete with burning candles and Olive holds a tray with a stack of four shallow bowls, spoons and a container of vanilla ice cream. Before either Holmes can react, the merry duo is singing Happy Birthday and placing their wares in front of Mycroft. Sherlock does not join in, but they don’t seem to notice.

“Blow out the candles,” Olive exclaims as soon as the song is over. “Wait, wait! Make a wish.”

Mycroft blows out the breath he sucked in noisily for show and makes quick work of the tiny flames. Olive cheers and claps while Greg leans down and drops a quick kiss to Mycroft’s lips.

“Happy Birthday, love,” he murmurs, his gaze soft.

“I want to pull off the candles,” Olive declares, climbing onto her chair and sitting on her knees for more height. She yanks one out of the icing immediately and places it on the tray at Greg’s direction. Once she is finished and licking icing off her fingers, Greg cuts a piece for each of them. Mycroft gets the first one, but he waits until everyone has been served before his first bite.

“Oh, Olive, this is delicious,” Mycroft smiles at her grin and bright eyes. She shoves her own fork in her mouth and chews. “You and Sherlock really have outdone yourselves.”

Sherlock bristles at the sound of his name on Mycroft’s lips. He ignores his brother’s attempts to draw him in, unsure he will be able to keep the anger from his tone, and eats in silence.

“Thanks,” Olive beams, taking another bite. “I know how much you love chocolate cake and Daddy suggested the icing.”

“Did he?” Mycroft’s gaze turns to Sherlock. The elder watches carefully as his brother makes every effort to maintain a mask of indifference. “How nice.”

“Uh-huh,” Olive inhales the last of her cake and drops her fork on the table. Still sitting on her knees, she hops a little as she watches her uncle daintily slip his from between his lips. “I want to give you my present! Did you get any presents yet?”

Olive shifts her dancing eyes to Greg, who promptly grins like an idiot and glances at Mycroft. Sherlock shifts in his seat uncomfortably as he analyses the expression. Greg ducks his chin down and gives a slight shake of his head, along with a quiet laugh. He appears almost bashful. Oh, god.

Sherlock can barely hold in a disgruntled huff. He is not a prude by any stretch of the mind. In spite of what Mycroft may think, sex does not alarm him. However, that still does not mean he wants to know anything about what happens in his brother’s bedroom.

“As a matter of fact, Greg gave me his present this morning,” Mycroft smiles sweetly at his partner. It is an expression Sherlock never thought he would see on his brother’s face, but seemed instantly natural once he and Greg began dating. Mycroft is still sharp as ever, especially on the job, but Greg smoothed out a lot of the edges in his personal life. Greg had even helped mend fences for the Holmes brothers, a daunting task if ever there was one. He is the other reason Mycroft has become more tolerable.

Sherlock brings his glass to his lips for a drink as he considers his friend, a man he took for an ordinary idiot when they first met, and lets out an amused breath through his nose at how far they have all come since then.

“You mean like sex?” Olive’s voice asks and Sherlock spits his water onto his own cake, fortunately missing anything of consequence. Everyone stares and Olive jumps off her seat with a start. Sherlock grabs a napkin and dabs at all of the droplets he can see on the table around him, mumbling apologies until Greg finally catches his hand to still it.

“It’s okay,” Greg tells him. “No worries.”

Sherlock’s eyes widen at the softness on his friend’s face and immediately dart to Mycroft’s left hand. No ring. That doesn’t make sense. He glances at the pockets in Mycroft’s waistcoat and sees the slight bulge of a small box. There it is. He leans back in his chair and extricates his hand from Greg’s, setting aside the napkin as he moves. 

“I see congratulations are in order,” Sherlock remarks. Greg’s eyes brighten and he claps the detective’s arm.

“I knew we couldn’t hide it for long,” the CDI laughs. “Thanks, mate.”

“Brother,” Mycroft nods somewhat smugly, no doubt because it remained a secret for as long as it did.

“What?” Olive asks as her gaze shifts from one man to another. “What’s going on?”

She puts her hands on her hips and stamps a foot when no one answers, her brows knitting on her wrinkled forehead. Taking pity, Mycroft turns toward her and fishes the box out of his pocket. He holds it out to the girl, who is frozen where she stands, face lit up like it is Christmas. Her palms fly to rest on either side of her face, pushing together until her lips are bunched up comically in between them.

“Actually, he gave me this,” Mycroft says in a tone of quiet anticipation. Olive reaches for the box inquisitively and takes it only when her uncle nods his approval. She pops open the lid as soon as it is in her little hands and gasps loudly at the simple platinum band. 

“It’s perfect!” she squeals, jumping up and down. She thrusts it back at Mycroft, still hopping wildly. “Put it on. Put it on!”

All three men are laughing at this point, Olive’s glee filling the room with light and energy. Mycroft takes the ring from the box and slides it delicately onto his long finger where it rests comfortably like it was always meant to be there. Olive yelps happily and leaps into his arms.

“I’m so happy for you!” she cries and turns to Greg, not loosening her grasp on her uncle. “And you too, Uncle Greg!”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Greg answers, reaching for Mycroft’s shoulder and touching it warmly.

“I want to be in the wedding!” Olive nearly shouts. “Can I be in the wedding?”

“Of course you can,” Mycroft assures her with an uncharacteristic grin, “and you can even pick out the dress.”

“With ruffles?” Olive gasps, hands covering her mouth.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Yahoo!” Olive is off his lap in a second and dancing around the room. Greg and Sherlock laugh as they watch her twirl and spring from one spot to another. 

“We were actually hoping someone else would be in it too,” Mycroft says guardedly, eyeing his baby brother. Sherlock’s smile falls instantly and he freezes in place with his gaze on the elder. “Would you stand up for me, Sherlock?”

Sherlock does not even twitch with an answer. Even Mycroft, with all his secrets and intelligence, seldom surprises the detective, but at this moment, he is speechless. Nevermind he had not expected his brother to ever marry. Hell, he honestly never thought Mycroft would fall in love. Sentiment is a weakness and all that, but the last few years with Greg had certainly changed Mycroft’s opinion on that. This though. This implied his feelings toward Sherlock had changed as well. He had always claimed his meddling was out of concern and Sherlock had seen it for the lie it was, but now. The possibility seemed impossible, even with the evidence right before his eyes.

“Yes, Daddy, you have to!” Olive runs for her father and dives into his lap. Sherlock’s heavy limbs catch her clumsily as she wraps her arms around his neck. “You can wear one of those tax-idoes and stand next to Uncle Myc and I’ll stand next to you. We’ll be beautiful.”

“Yes,” Sherlock replies slowly, not wanting to spoil her mood with his true answer, “it will be lovely.”

“Yay!” comes her cheer, only to be silenced with another gasp. “My present. You have to open my present!”

Olive gestures toward Mycroft as she runs out of the room, dodging furniture and throwing the door open. She pops back into view as it swings back into the dining room, a twelve by fourteen inch box in her hands that is wrapped in paper covered with brightly colored balloons.

“I wrapped it myself,” she says proudly, straightening up tall. “Daddy only gave me the pieces of tape this year.”

“My, my. You are growing up, aren’t you?” Mycroft says in admiration and takes the box when she thrusts it at him. 

“Go on,” she flashes a toothy grin, minus the one she lost the week before. “Open it.”

Mycroft smiles mischievously, throwing a glance at Greg and Sherlock, and tearing at the paper. He used to open packages carefully, sliding his fingers along the tape, but Olive made it clear the practice was unacceptable when she was four. 

With the paper gone, Mycroft opens the box and pulls a tall cylinder with sticks glued around its outer surface. The sticks are clearly ordinary twigs one might find on the ground, but each one has been relieved of its bark and stained a lovely medium brown. They are cut to the size of the cylinder, which is actually more of a glass, and glued on vertically so no part of the glass shows through. Small knots are visible on some of them, but the quality of work cannot be denied. Surprise showing on his face, Mycroft looks over the table to Sherlock and then to his niece. 

“It’s a pencil holder,” Olive tells him with pride in her voice. “You always have so many laying around on your desk.”

“Yes, I do,” Mycroft replies airily. “It’s beautiful, Olive. It really is. You made this yourself?”

“Dad helped,” she answers. “We collected the sticks in the park and he showed me how to make them pretty.”

“Well, you have done excellent work, my dear,” Mycroft pulls her close to kiss her forehead. “I love it.”

“There’s more,” Olive hops a little at his side.

He puts the pencil holder on the table and fishes into the box again, pulling out a drawing of three men and a little girl standing around a table with a cake sitting in its center. The cake is brown for chocolate icing and absolutely covered in candles. A few even stick out from its sides and every one of their tops is colored with orange marker. Mycroft can easily tell which man is which by the clothing and can’t help the small smile forming on his lips. His character wears a waistcoat with matching pants, Greg’s has a dark green shirt with short sleeves and blue pants, and Sherlock simply wears his signature long, dark coat. That is what tickles Mycroft the most. He turns to look at the little girl again.

“It’s us celebrating your birthday,” Olives says and points out who everyone is. She points to the cake too. “There’s 59 candles on it. That’s what I wanted it to look like, but Dad said we had to pretend some of the candles were really ten candles instead. I still think this is better.”

“Be that as it may, I think I agree with your father,” Mycroft remarks pleasantly, in spite of her frown. He hands the paper over to Greg who laughs heartily.

“It’s perfect,” Greg agrees. “You have your dad’s coat and hair down to a science.”

“Thanks,” Olive rushes over to hug him.

“And what’s this?” Mycroft asks, pulling what looks like a brown tail cut out of paper. Olive scurries back to his side and starts pulling out more. Mycroft has a blue scarf in one hand that is twisted into a long coil like a blindfold. With an uncertain look on his face, he directs his attention to Olive, who holds up a paper with a brown horse drawn on it in crayon. 

“It’s a game. Pin the tail on the donkey,” Olive explains happily. “People play it at parties. We can all play. I made lots of tails.”

Everyone is still for a moment. Mycroft’s eyes find Sherlock’s and broadcast the need for a conversation before Olive gets too carried away. Sherlock’s face hardens, but he makes no other movement.

Greg, ever the peacekeeper, is the first to move when he rises from his chair and takes the box from Mycroft.

“Let’s put all the bits in here,” Greg begins collecting tails. “You and I can set it up in the lounge, so these two can talk for a minute.”

“Aw, but I wanted all of us to play,” Olive whinges.

“Olivia,” Sherlock begins in a stern voice, but Greg cuts him off.

“We will. Uncle Myc and your dad just need a minute,” Greg takes her hand and starts leading her to the door opposite the swinging kitchen one. He leans over slightly to speak in a fake whisper. “We’ll play once or twice and have the advantage.”

Olive inhales quietly through her mouth and looks back at the Holmeses with shifty eyes. She presses her lips together as if trying to make sure she doesn’t spill the beans and give away their conspiracy.

“We’ll be right in there,” she points to the door and what lies beyond, “just setting up, but NOT playing.”

Sherlock and Mycroft both raise a skeptical brow in unison. Olive giggles, not trying to hide her intentions in the slightest, and looks back at Greg. He flashes a knowing smile at the brothers and steers Olive to the door again.

“Come on. They won’t know what hit them,” he and Olive chuckle together as they pass through the door and out of the room.

Not looking at his brother, Sherlock’s face hardens immediately and he lifts his chin defiantly. The fury fueled by Mycroft’s attempts to hide John from him boils to the surface quickly. The detective parts his lips as he chooses from the words running through his mind. How he has tired of Mycroft’s need to control his life, to “protect” him. He has a tolerance for it no longer.

“You have questions,” Mycroft states in his damned, know-it-all voice. Sherlock inhales sharply and bites off the urge to curse.

“One,” he replies in an even, but strained tone. “Why?”

There is a moment of silence. Enough that Sherlock turns his head to look at his brother. The elder’s eyes are dull and his face bland. 

“I thought that rather obvious, don’t you?” is Mycroft’s only response. 

“You have let me be for years,” Sherlock ignores his words. Growing more and more angry at Mycroft’s carelessness in shattering the peace between them. Of course, he is just as frustrated with himself. Sherlock had been a fool and should have known Mycroft would jump at the chance when the right situation presented itself. Old habits are hard to break and meddling in Sherlock’s life is as central to Mycroft as his nervous system.

“John Watson has stumbled into your path again,” Mycroft’s voice is stern and commanding. Sherlock recognizes it from when he has issued orders to underlings and it makes the detective’s blood heat within his veins. “Even more dangerous than the last time.”

“Dangerous?” Sherlock barks furiously. “I put him in danger. It was not reciprocal.”

“We both know that’s not quite true,” Mycroft says quietly, purposefully. Sherlock nearly flinches at those words. The words of his mortal enemy that had so opened his eyes.

“You bastard,” Sherlock’s voice is hoarse with emotion. He wants to rise, punch Mycroft right in his smug mouth and stalk out of the room, but cannot make his body listen to the signals from his brain. A wave of frustration washing over him, Sherlock tries to gather himself. He pushes out everything other than his anger with Mycroft, but his efforts are derailed completely by his brother’s next words.

“You love him,” Mycroft’s face is stony. “You did then and you jumped off a building. You still do now. You always have.”

Sherlock stares blankly. His lips part with no words, his mind racing.

“But Olive needs you now,” Mycroft continues, his tone growing more forceful. “You do not have the liberty of giving up everything for him again, should the need arise. I thought it best he not be a part of your life.”

“And then Gracie met Olive,” Sherlock says in barely more than a whisper.

“Yes,” Mycroft murmurs. “It was a possibility I had not considered. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Sherlock straightens, rising from his chair. He walks to the window and looks out, seeing nothing but a pair of blue eyes. “John wants nothing to do with me. He won’t even let Gracie come for a playdate.”

“I can’t believe that won’t change soon enough, Sherlock,” Mycroft tells him doubtfully. Sherlock rounds on him and clenches his fists at his sides.

“What would you have me do?” the detective demands. “I will never shut him out. I did that once and it cost me everything.”

Mycroft looks into his brother’s determined grey eyes and sighs.

“Be careful, brother mine,” he says in a sage tone. “Guard your heart. Let me help when you need it. Please.”

Sherlock notices Mycroft said when and not if, but chooses not to comment. That conversation is not one he wants to have now. Instead, Sherlock merely fixes him with sharp eyes and nods once.

---

I had a lot of fun with this chapter! The image of Mycroft interacting with Olive in exactly this way fills me with such happiness. Olive holding her hands up for the mitts like a scrubbed-up surgeon and Mycroft playing right along tickles me. And then there’s Greg's line "You're going to kill him, aren't you?" as he cringes at Sherlock - I can see the actors playing this scene to perfection! Lol. I hope it gave you as much pleasure as it did me.

Love, Jane

@johnlock-rocks

[janekfan]

Ten Seconds

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25814524

One can do anything for ten seconds. And then all you have to do is start with another ten seconds and well. You can do anything for ten seconds. Jon blinked back the encroaching, smothering black.

Ten seconds.

Martin deserved ten seconds. Ten thousand seconds. Ten billion seconds. But at the moment, Jon can only spare him ten. And then he would spare him ten more.

Ten seconds.

Martin’s hand was cold, pale, and Jon worried that without his ability to See, there would be no one beside him on the train. Awkwardly, he pressed trembling lips to the soft head of auburn hair settled against his chest. (Was there even a heartbeat under there?) He could do this now, he was allowed.

Ten seconds.

Jon stayed there for a full count, breathing in the comfort of Martin, there, with him, against him. Solid. Not quite warm yet. But there. His weight grounding Jon as his mind attempted to race and came up only with

Hungry. Hungry. Starving. Hollow. Empty. Empty. Empty. Painhurthungerempty there’s a statement in the second car and pleasejustletmeeatsomethingiamstarvingandsosoSOHUNGRY.

Ten seconds.

Swallowing down the intrusive thoughts past the clot of agony in his throat, Jon could feel every scar one hundred fold. Itching. Aching. Stretching like mouths in his ashen skin to reveal what monster lay underneath and he couldn’t let it because then everyone would Know like he Knew. He offered the elderly lady across from him a wavering smile and she returned it and it was so normal and nothing had been normal for so long. He buried his face in Martin’s hair, sweet, exhausted, Lonely, Martin who needed him to be strong for just once in his greedy life.

Ten seconds.

He cried, silently, hidden from sight, every nerve alight as he strained the limit of his unwanted powers to make sure nothing was following them.

Ten seconds.

That’s all he needed before the train pulled to a lurching stop at the small, but well kept station. Jon shouldered their backpacks, cupping Martin’s cheek and touching his forehead to his.

“Up you get, darling.” Martin’s eyes were hazy and grey, brightening to strawflower blue when he acknowledged Jon. “If we don’t disembark now, we’ll have left all the good cows behind us.” Despite his own slightness and Martin’s greater height, Jon guided them both to the platform, looking around to clear his head. “Come, love. I know the way.” Gentle. To make up for all the times he was not. That’s what Martin deserved. Kindness and gentleness and softness.

Jon was worried his sharp edges and temper and hunger would never be enough.

Ten seconds.

Huffing, wheezing, he hadn't been particularly fit before and wasn’t that a poor position to be in when most of your job relied on running from individual eldritch horrors, Jon struggled to hitch them both up the small slope to the tiny village. Though there were spare, flickering street lights, most of the windows were dark and if Jon hadn’t just compelled a being to death, he might have been frightened. As it was, the cottage came into view and Jon turned the key in the old lock and pushed in, going down under the heavy weakness in his legs.

“...Jon?”

“S’alright, Martin.” Just taking a short rest.

Ten seconds.

Before making it to the couch and taking Martin’s hands in his own. Gingerly, Jon rubbed his thumbs over the back of his hands, trying to impart some warmth, any warmth, into that frozen skin.

“I’ll make us some tea.” Get Martin warm. Warm and safe. Packs in a pile, Jon spread a knitted throw over him, tucking it around his shoulders and making quite sure he wouldn’t end up with a crick in his neck.

Ten seconds.

He locked the door.

Ten seconds.

Piled wood into the fireplace and checked the flue, no good would come of smoking them both like a fish.

Ten seconds.

And ten more again.

To work up the courage to strike a match and light the tinder and his hands shook so badly the first guttered out. The scar on his palm burned like the day he’d received it. Strike the match. Light the tinder. Stoke the fire and check the draft.

Ten seconds.

To cry and shake on the hearth. To rock back and forth, hands rough against his face, tears wet and uncomfortable and all his stifling made his head throb. When finally he could stand again, Jon checked on Martin, kissed his cheek because he was allowed to do that now, and stumbled into the kitchen to turn on the hob and heat some water.

“Oh.” He could see in the dark. When had that happened? He distracted himself with locating tea, so old, and Jon could pinpoint the exact date it had been manufactured, when it arrived on the shelf. When Daisy bought it and how long she took to put it away and when the last time a human, or somewhat human, hand had touched it and Martin would no doubt find it flavorless, but it was normalcy. A few dry goods in airtight containers, things that could be whipped up by adding water, stocked the pantry. They would need to go to the market but could survive for several days on what they had here. Or Marin could. Jon wanted only what he could not have. It would worry Martin. So he would try to eat. He could try anything for Martin. A sharp pang lanced through his middle and he curled up around it, gripping the counter for dear life and clapping a hand over his mouth to cut off the noise.

Ten seconds.

And the tea was done. And the lamp next to the couch worked to cast a cozy yellow glow over the room. Jon set his own chipped mug on the table before waking Martin to press another mug, warm from the tea, into his hands.

“Nothing could measure up to your tea, but it’s hot.” When Martin smiled, Jon’s whole body tingled; he wanted to make Martin smile always.

“Thank you, love.” The endearment made his head swim. This was his. To selfishly keep and to hold and to horde and because the Eye wanted to do that anyway, it was that much easier but no less unbelievable. More color flooded into Martin’s face at the first sip, and the expression he made, caught between polite and disgust, made Jon chuckle.

“We’ll have to stock up.” Martin continued to sip despite the taste, becoming more and more aware with each swallow, and Jon wanted to ask if he could. Maybe. “C’c’ould I. Perhaps.” Now that the idea was in his mind it was almost louder than the hunger and he couldn’t think of anything else. Martin raised an eyebrow because of course he did, because he wanted to hear Jon to say it. “I. I.” Breathe. “J’join you?” The only dignified way he could think of saying ‘if you don’t hold me now, I may fall completely apart, and you need me to not do that to you this time.’ Martin grinned widely, face soft and open and so, so beautiful, set his empty mug on the table and opened up the blanket. It was all Jon could do not to leap at him and cling like a limpet, and instead sideled into his embrace, melting against his side. Safe. Safe. He was safe. They were safe. He would always be safe here. Nuzzling his cheek into a broad chest and winding both hands into his jumper, Jon sighed, letting the steady heartbeat quiet the voices, the Knowing, listening to the quiet. Like Daisy said, just listen to the quiet. When he looked up, Martin met his gaze, and Jon charted the freckles like constellations dusted over his cheeks and knew he would never forget any of them even if someday he could.

“You look tired, Jon.” Martin frowned and no, no, no, Jon didn’t want him to do that, anything but that. Not because of him. So he chuffed, in that way that mimicked disbelief and ire. It was easy. Too easy. To build those walls back up again. But he’d hurt him so much already. He had to protect Martin from himself. From the monster that was hired right along with him.

“It’s been. Well, a bit of a day.” His legs were folded up on the couch and when had that happened? pressing his boney knees into Martin’s soft thigh. He’d been starving before he dove into the Lonely for Martin, to retrieve what was his, and he’d used up even more of himself destroying Peter Lukas, then most of the rest to leave with his precious, invaluable prize. “Bit of a decade, really.”

“Shall we, then?” Jon felt himself flush red and buried his nose into Martin’s chest. Because yes. yes. He wanted to lay beside Martin at night. Watch him wake up next to him. Last action of the day to kiss him good night, first of the morning to kiss him awake. “Oh, darling.” The amusement in his quiet voice made him flash hotter and Martin’s arms wrapped him up so completely he felt cocooned within the sanctuary of his hold. Cherished. Something that still had value despite being so, so ugly.

Ten seconds.

He couldn’t let himself cry. Not where Martin could see. Not when it would only make him worry.

“Y’yes, please.” This time Martin grabbed their packs, held Jon by the waist when the change in position made his head swim. “Heh. T’t’tired.” It wasn’t a lie, not completely, but it left a sour taste on his tongue either way. They were changing for bed when Jon realized Martin had turned self conscious, and he pressed himself into his surprised arms, skin singing like he’d been struck by lighting the moment they touched, tugging him down to meet him for a sweet kiss. “I love you.” Now it was Martin’s turn to blush and it only made Jon kiss him that much more. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The bed was just big enough for the pair of them to be comfortable and though Martin dropped off quickly, he was now warm to the touch, their faces scant centimeters apart. It was dark but Jon could make out every precious feature made prettier by the soft moonlight, lashes darker and swept over cheeks Jon wanted to kiss over and over and over again. Like this, in this tentative peace, Jon felt he finally had space to take a full breath. They were safe here. It was called a safe house. It was in the name.

But just in case he would stay awake to keep watch. To protect that which was his should something decide now was a good time to get cheeky.

Ten seconds.

He kept himself still so as not to disturb him. Watching. He needed to rest and recover and he wouldn’t be able to do so if Jon was rolling about the sheets. When the hunger threatened to crescendo, to beg him to extract any and all statements from Martin and he had so many, he distracted himself by memorizing all that he could.

Ten seconds.

The way his freckles were splashed more heavily on the left side of his face.

Ten seconds.

There were exactly seventeen dusted over his nose, with one close to the corner of his right eye.

Ten seconds.

Depending on what size and how pigmented, Jon could map Ursa Minor using the one nearest his lashes as Polaris. Ursa Major was too far away in terms of accuracy--

A wave of ache crested in his mind. The Eye no doubt tired of his little games.

Ten seconds.

In terms of accuracy, but was there, tucked closely to his ear, hidden partially from sight by a stray curl. Jon giggled, slightly hysterical, clamping both hands over his face. But there was a veritable zoo with Draco and Pegasus and Cignus.

Ten seconds.

Waiting for Martin to stir, his nose to scrunch up as he came awake on his own before pouncing and kissing him the rest of the way to consciousness.

“Good morning to you as well, Jon!” Martin was laughing. Hugging him close and kissing him back. He was allowed to have this.

Ten seconds.

“You need feeding up, darling.” Martin ran his fingers over Jon’s shivery ribs, playing them as though they were piano keys, pausing at the space left behind by the Boneturner. “You’re practically hollow.”

Ten seconds.

If he only knew. Instead.

“There are instant porridge oats in the pantry.” The thought of food made his stomach turn.

“As good as we’ll get, I suspect. At least until we head into the village.” They got ready squashed together at the small bathroom sink. It was nice. Domestic.

Jon watched Martin read the box, selecting two packets and pouring them into two bowls, He tipped a careful measure of hot water from the kettle over the gravel dust lining each before turning to pass two mugs of tea to him.

“Even my tea making abilities didn’t stand a chance.” He set a bowl before Jon, sliding a spoon across the table. Something must have shown in his face because Martin covered his hand with his own. “I know it’s. It’s not what you want. But.” Jon startled, knowing his eyes were wide in surprise as he looked up at Martin. “I’ll contact Basira. We’ll get you what you need.”

“Martin. N’n’no, it’s alright.”

Ten seconds.

“It really isn’t.” And he kissed his forehead.

Ten seconds.

“I’m not. Sure. If I, I can go to the village.” Jon tugged his mug closer to him, fingers leeching the warmth from the porcelain. “I’m. I’m not safe.” Barely above a whisper, he didn’t want to admit to this weakness in him. But he needed to be honest or he’d just put them in more danger.

He couldn’t protect Martin if he was chasing meals and out of his mind.

“No worries, love. I can go for the both of us.” Martin stirred his breakfast before taking a bite and not wanting to disappoint him, Jon forced a mouthful himself and the regret was instantaneous. “Oh, Jon.” He leaned into his palm as it cupped his ear.

Ten seconds.

Ten seconds.

Ten seconds.

Jon was dizzy, freezing. Like he’d taken the Lonely inside himself and housed it right next to where the worst of his hunger resided. He was so relieved Basira was shipping statements because if Jon were being honest with himself for once, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could resist just taking the statements from the one he loved most.

Ten seconds.

How many more until he could have any small respite?

Ten seconds.

At least it was quiet here. With Martin. They saw plenty of truly lovely cows on the walks they took hand in hand and side by side and Jon got to spend all the time he wanted curled against him, letting the rhythm of his pulse quiet the ravenous need.

Tonight though, he couldn’t seem to get warm, caught between chills and hunger pangs he kept to himself even though Martin could see right into his soul it seemed. He often wondered if Martin hated what he saw.

“Soon, love.” Oh, and the pain in Martin’s voice. This isn’t what Jon wanted at all.

Ten seconds.

When he was sure Martin was asleep, Jon crept out of bed to retrieve the jumper he’d discarded and pull it over his head, sighing with relief not because he was any warmer, but because now Martin was all around him. Even as he tried not to, tried to keep watch, Jon succumbed to sleep tucked tightly against Martin, drowning gently in him.

When Martin woke, he allowed himself a few moments to appreciate the small body snuggled up close because there was a time where he wasn’t sure he’d ever have a moment like this again. He brushed his fingers through prematurely greying hair and tucked it behind Jon’s ear so he could press his lips against his forehead, both eyelids, his cheek, his nose, to the corner of his slack mouth, smiling against the stubble there. Jon didn’t stir and Martin decided to let him sleep as long as possible. He wasn’t well. Pale and gaunt, haunted by the things he’d seen and been forced to do. Jon destroyed Peter Lukas, dragged him from the Lonely, got them all the way to Scotland.

Jon wouldn’t hear of him giving a statement, maybe he could give him this.

He was doing the washing up in the kitchen when he heard unsteady shuffling behind him followed by a hoarse, bleary voice.

“Martin. Y’were gone.”

“Jon?” Martin had just seconds to appreciate how small, how adorable Jon was swallowed up in his cable knit, swaying there like a bit of weed caught up in the tide. It hung off one narrow brown shoulder to fall mid thigh revealing bare, scarred legs and mismatched socked feet. His thin hands were fisted in the ends of the sleeves, one of them sleepily rubbing at an eye limned with shadows so dark Martin would have thought they’d been blacked had he not known better.

Just seconds before he crumpled like wet paper or a house of cards, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, his temple striking the wooden floor far too hard for Martin’s liking.

“Jon!” Fluttering, his hands lingered over Jon’s limp body like butterflies, lighting only briefly before resuming their frantic flight. He wasn’t sure he could move him. Touch him. What if he made it worse? Would he heal from this? When he was starved as he was?

“Mmh…” A bare sliver of unfocused dull brown appeared between lashes parted a hairsbreadth.

“Jon?” Delicately, Martin brushed aside his hair to get a better look at where he struck his head and violently, Jon flinched away from the light touch, breath picking up, trembling beginning in earnest now. At least there was no blood, only a nasty contusion that already seemed to be healing, albeit slowly, and he attempted to shift. “Hush, hush, don’t move. I’ve got you, darling. It’s Martin and I’ve got you.”

“Mmmartin.”

“Yes, I’m going to lift you.” Frighteningly limp, Jon weighed almost nothing in his arms and Martin tucked him closer, into his neck, protectively. “You’re so cold, love.”

“Martin.” The small whimper was little more than an exhale against his jaw. “Martin.”

“I’m here.” He settled him on the bed, still turned down from where Jon untangled himself to go looking for him just moments ago. “I’ve got you.” And to his utter dismay a painful sob wrenched itself free from Jon’s throat. “Oh, darling, shh, it’s alright.” Martin pulled the blankets up around them both and Jon turned into his chest, clutching him as tightly as he could, tears coming silently in a torrent, slipping over the bridge of his nose and soaking the sheets. “Alright, alright.” Gradually the shaking died down, and the hitching in his breath evened out into panting, and further into something approaching sleep. Saltwater damp lashes brushed against Martin’s skin and he stroked his palm up and down Jon’s back, pressing his lips wherever they could reach until his body relaxed completely, the hand once gripping him for dear life now loosely curled on the pillow where his head rested. Martin was sick with worry. He’d never seen Jon lose control like this; not even at his most paranoid.

Retrieving a damp flannel, Martin swept it delicately over Jon’s face, concerned when he didn’t so much as twitch, before setting it aside and settling in to wait. This time he would be here when Jon woke.

To give in to the Eye and watch (take) is to be rid of the pain of resisting.

It is equal parts loss and failure.

Monstrous. Untouchable, but afraid, so afraid.

Watching himself being watched by himself, being watched by himself, being watched by himself, being watched, infinitely, forever, because what watches the Ceaseless Watcher but itself? Through the hole torn in the very fabric of the sky, gloating, glutted, on truths and falsehoods it wasn’t supposed to have, to know, to keep like it had right.

Eyes forced to see, too many eyes, eyes that didn’t belong to him (all eyes belonged to him), feeding, gorging on information and Knowing, Knowing, Knowing, unable to shut the doors, unable to keep them out, out, out because now they were open and staring and wide and he didn’t have the strength to shut them again. Nothing but a conduit. A seemingly unlimited vessel somehow filled to the brim and bursting, seeping through the cracks of himself, rivulets of Knowing like acid, like hot, burning, blazing blood that he tried to keep inside through force of habit because no matter how much he lost, there was always more. More. More.

Too much. Too much. Too much.

But he needed it to breathe. To be. To suffocate him. Pain. But beautiful. The euphoria of holding one’s breath beneath the sea, silent, soft, soundless but for the muffled cadence of your heart in your ears.

Ten seconds.

To fill his lungs with water.

Ten seconds.

To decipher the reverberation beating against every sense.

Ten seconds.

“Martin.”

Ten seconds.

His throat ached.

Ten seconds.

To open his eyes, his two eyes. To see Martin’s frantic face above him. To feel wetness splash his face.

Ten seconds.

“Martin.” Shaky, he pressed a palm to his cheek, thumbed away a stray tear. “What’s wrong, darling?” Martin huffed, lips pulled into a trembling smile, and covered the back of Jon’s hand with his own.

“You’ve gone absolutely daft.” Martin scrubbed his face furiously, but it didn’t stop those blue eyes from welling up. “You, Jon.”

“M’alright.”

“Nope. Try again.”

“Martin--”

“You were screaming, Jon. I’ve. I’ve never. I didn’t know a person could sound like that.”

“I’m not quite a person though, am I?”

“Do not start with me, Jonathan Sims.”

“Oh, full name.” It hurt to speak, but felt so good to tease, to put a degree of separation between whatever this was and the nightmare he’d just been pulled from. “Am I in trouble, Mr. Blackwood?”

“You’ve not escaped this conversation.” Martin flopped to the pillows beside him, tugging Jon to his chest and he went willingly, melting under the kisses dotted amongst his hairline. Letting go of the residual tension. Losing himself in the quiet.

Ten seconds.

“S’sorry.” He felt Martin chin move against the top of his head.

“Whatever for, love?” Jon gestured weakly at the whole of himself, hand falling to the quilt at the end of its path, letting himself be squeezed tightly. “It’s not ideal, no.”

Ten seconds.

“But it doesn’t change how I feel.” Jon didn’t know he’d been holding his breath until it rushed out of him all at once, dizzied with relief. “You’re insufferable, but that’s just part of your charm.” A sweet kiss cut off his sputtering.

The gnawing, empty, ache was still there, buried deeply below the distraction Martin provided, buried beneath the love there and Jon could have wept at how lucky he was.

“Up you come, Jon.” He was still in the jumper, shy under Martin’s affectionate adoration as their fingers threaded together; the spaces between made for each other. “I’ll make us some tea.”