#Please understand how brief I tried to be I really did try to keep this short I'm so sorry

[lovieku]

TRUE LOVE ⋆ 정국

when you and jeon jeongguk's paths cross again, you question if having a crush on the school's emo and alternative boy was really just a phase, or if it was true love after all.

⋆⁺₊❅. 5/6 from christmas & chill

pairing tattoo artist!jk x fem reader

genre fluff, smut, grumpy & sunshine, somewhat f2l

warnings jk 24 | oc 24, jk thinks he’s too cool for love, oc suffers from a chronic case of “i can fix him”, she eventually does, oc simps HARDDD and jk only pretends to be unaffected, yea he’s a bit of a dick sometimes but he’s also Very funny, brief description of panic attacks, male masturbation, kissing, idk what else to add i just rly rly love them and will think of them for the entirety of xmas season

word count 10.2k

author’s note hi lovies 🩷 it’s my last time with c&c 🙁 i’m kinda emotional omg… it’s been such a fun, warm and lovely week, and i love each one of you for showing endless support to this project <33 i’ll keep trying to not disappoint… please tell me if you like this!!! thank u always and always 🩷 luv u <3

banner by the gorgeous @awrkive ⊹₊⟡⋆

On the first day of December, your path crosses with thee Jeon Jeongguk’s after enough years for your brain to trip slightly before recognising him. But it would have been impossible not to—there’s likely a whole, well-preserved section of your thinking organ dedicated to that mortifying phase of high school, when your hormones turned life into an endless internal tug-of-war.

The moment your eyes widen at having him stand in front of you, you’re yanked unceremoniously into the past, brought back to buried, locked and left to gather dust feelings that have your teenage self’s screams echoing within you in a chorus of delight and cringe.

Jeongguk, on the other hand, is simply following his duties as a tattoo artist. When he catches sight of you next to his appointed client on such a breezy day, the cold December air starting to find its space even in the confines of his studio, he only nods his chin upward at you in slow recognition.

It’s awkward, at first. Only because you make it.

You’d volunteered to accompany Eunbi, your best friend, to get her first tattoo as an early Christmas self-gift. Your mission was clear: support her, hold her hand if the pain became unbearable (though you’re probably the least dependable person when it comes to making clarity in situations of panic, as seen right now), and be the first to bask in her excitement as she finally sees what she’s always pictured to be inked on the skin of her forearm. A blue whale tattoo, large enough to make you wince just thinking about the needlework.

You’d never go through something like that. Never.

And that’s exactly what’s showing on your face when you’re met with Jeongguk’s full sleeve of tattoos, leaving you rooted to the spot.

You’d always known him to be the different kid, the quiet one with forced sharp eyes that canonically listened to alternative rock and glared at anyone who dared approach, whether to tease him or befriend him. He’d convinced himself that no one could ever understand him.

See, you’d instead fooled yourself into thinking you were the exception. That you did understand him.

Fourteen-year-old you had gone through some weird phases, and the one that resurfaces now at the vision of his adult self is the one centered entirely around him. You unashamedly had the biggest crush on Jeongguk. To you, he was mysterious and edgy—in an effortlessly cool way.

You’d tried everything. Offered him your lunch more times than you were left with any for yourself. Even cut your bangs to have them fall over your eyes to mimic his fringe, dyed a strand in blue, overhauled your wardrobe to align with his back-and-grey one. None of it worked. He never noticed.

But, thinking of it now, there’s no way he didn't. He definitely did. How could any boy turn a blind eye to a lovesick girl’s heartfelt Valentine’s letter, a hopeless romantic girl who almost cried on the spot when she got rejected? Jeongguk just chose to willingly ignore it.

These are all valid reasons as to why your functions seem to slow down in his unexpected presence. And you’re not going to deny nor fake that his calm, almost detached demeanor doesn’t flow through your body and right to your left eye, making it twitch with a slight tremor.

Yet, you must also admit that your teenage self was onto something. Jeongguk has changed drastically but he’s also stayed the same. You think fourteen-year-old him would be proud of where he is right now. Two piercings on his lower lip and one on his eyebrow, intricate ink tracing up his muscled arm, his… muscled arms. Wow. And then, his studio. His own studio, a place for him and his passion, one that he made into his job. That’s undeniably cool.

Maybe just not cool enough for you to be gaping like an idiot as he moves with purpose, adjusting your friend’s arm to position the stencil he had prepared, perfectly fitting in the space she had chosen. His muscles flex with every shift, and it’s impossible for you to go past that with the way the black beater he’s wearing is loose on his torso, but still clinging on his chest.

Eunbi notices, of course. You don’t have time to feel embarrassed and in return she doesn’t even try to hide her amusement when your usual chatter dries up entirely, only gulping obnoxiously noisily and alternating that with nervous silences. Jeongguk, too, catches on.

He’d always known you as obnoxious and noisy. In, huh, a good way. Or whatever.

Jeongguk just agrees that you were (and probably still are, if the pastel yellow skirt softly flowing down your legs paired with a cozy cream sweater and the full toothed grin you shoot at your friend are any indicators) the pinpoint embodiment of his opposite. You’ve always been talkative, smiley, and friendly, eager to help and to receive help, not in the slightest ever turning down the opportunity to blabber on, and on, and on.

Honestly, Jeongguk doesn’t think he ever truly listened to a single word of your rambling back in the day, especially during those times when you’d bounce up to him and launch into enthusiastic rants about obscure alternative bands he himself hadn’t even heard of. He respected the hustle, though. He’d always wondered where you found the time and energy to immerse yourself in music like that.

He much preferred when you were less trying so hard to be him and mirror his tastes, more when you gave up on impressing him and simply stayed true to yourself, the girl whose heart belonged to Justin Bieber and One Direction. Truthfully, he fucked with them. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course. His quiet, brooding image wouldn’t survive that revelation.

What he respected the most was your resilience. After all the times he rejected you and your awkward blurts of confessions, you still didn’t think it was enough of a reason for your villain origin story to take off, and instead remained the same frustratingly positive ray of sunshine you’d always been.

Now, as Jeongguk works on the tattoo in front of him, the very design that caused all these long-buried memories to rise back, his dark eyes flick toward you sitting on a stool in a near corner every now and then, a hint of confusion in his expression each time you take more than five seconds to reply to his small talk.

It’s just, you’re a bit taken aback. Since when does he do small talk? The foreign smoothness with which Jeongguk handles interactions is so far removed from the sullen boy you used to know. You’re not prepared for this version of him. It’s disarming, to say the least.

Enough time has passed for you to settle into the odd scenario, your current best friend and your long-standing high school crush in the same room. Slowly but surely, your curiosity sparkles again, and the signature tendency to let thoughts tumble out of your mouth unchecked returns to you naturally.

“Ouch, that looks painful.”

Jeongguk snorts, eyes trained on Eunbi’s arm as he glides the tattoo needle with precise strokes that have his brows pinching and the tip of his tongue peeking out from the corner of his lips, a habit you remember from the past but one you’ve never found quite so distracting before.

Still, he multitasks and responds without missing a beat, “Wanna try?”

Wow. This is, like, the longest conversation you’ve ever had with him. It spurs you on to do anything it takes to hear more of his voice, the sound of it definitely deeper than the shy tones you struggled to coax out of him ten years ago.

That is probably why you literally lie, “Hm. Maybe. I was thinking of getting one actually. In the future.”

Eunbi chokes on her spit, her chest coughing with the sudden, blatantly fake revelation, and Jeongguk promptly pauses, lifting the needle from her skin as his tattooist reflexes kick in. While your friend apologizes between a clearing of her throat and sinks back into the chair, she doesn’t keep from glaring at you, her expression screaming What the hell are you doing?

You deadpan. You’ll explain everything later and it’ll all make sense. And you know this will inevitably end up being added to the list of the many embarrassing facts she knows about you and threatens you with when she wants to go clubbing and you don’t.

Jeongguk uses the brief interruption to glance up at where you’re perched in the corner of his peripheral vision, just to square you up and down with a skeptical arch of his brow, “Really?”

You scoff, smoothing out the creases on your skirt as if the fabric is somehow responsible for the lie you just told, “Is that shocking?”

He hums, returning to his work with the buzz of the needle filling the studio again, his voice padded the more he gets closer to Eunbi’s forearm, “I just find it hard to believe such a princess like you could handle any pain.”

You gulp.

What you’re getting from this conversation is that Jeongguk has always had an idea of who you are in his mind all along. That he’s always perceived you in some way. As much as your inner fourteen-year-old is swooning at the attention, gobbling up each of the tiny crumbles he’s giving you, it doesn’t sit right with you. What exactly does he think of you?

“Test me.”

He shrugs, eyes fixated on the shade he’s perfectioning with black ink, “Busy now.”

“I’ll go pay for mine. I saw you have one last free spot today,” you announce, the words tumbling out with more confidence than you feel. You’re already on your feet before the sentence is fully formed, betraying the fact that your nosy tendencies had gotten the better of you earlier. You’d discreetly glanced at his appointment book when Jeongguk and Eunbi were finalizing her tattoo details and negotiating the final price at the desk.

He hums, head tilting slightly, “And I wanted to spend it bumming around.”

“Too bad. You’ll have to postpone that.”

You walked into this studio swearing you’d never let a needle even brush you.

Now you’re stretched out on a leather bench, Jeongguk leaning over you with a stencil in hand, gloved fingers moving with careful precision.

The design you’d chosen came from his portfolio—a delicate illustration of two butterflies in motion, their soft threads intertwining. You’d flipped through countless pages of bold skulls and intricate linework before settling on this.

The spot you’d chosen for the tattoo was the flat, firm plane between your breasts. It wasn’t a conscious decision, just a place you’d always liked. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that nature hadn’t exactly blessed you in the cleavage department. Subconsciously, perhaps, you thought that adding something there might give the illusion of more.

“Tehe,” you can’t stop the breathy giggle that escapes as the cool paper brushes against your skin. Your hand is pressed to your bra, holding it in place as best you can, though the situation feels so surreal it’s hard to focus on anything but the ridiculousness of it all.

Jeongguk glances up at you with a glare that’s more exasperated than angry before returning to the delicate task at hand, “What’s funny?”

Your voice wobbles, “I just— I tend to laugh during serious moments.”

“Oh. Weird.”

“Sorry.”

With a small sigh, he smooths the stencil, and once it’s transferred he hands you a square mirror, waiting for your approval. You nod, the butterflies now perfectly poised in their eternal dance, and Jeongguk doesn’t waste a moment.

The buzz of the needle fills the room as he leans closer, one gloved hand resting on the upper part of your chest to steady himself. He’s mere seconds from beginning the inking process when another laugh bubbles out of you.

Jeongguk sits back abruptly, dropping his pen onto the metal tray with an audible clink. Tilting his head, he levels you with a look of thinly veiled irritation. “I really can’t work if your chest keeps moving.”

“Sorry,” you blurt again, turning your head to face the wall. You clamp your lips together tightly, mentally scrolling through every sad memory you can conjure. Think of something awful. Your childhood dog dying. Okay, maybe not that sad—

“You haven’t changed a bit since high school. Always smiling like you live surrounded by flowers and rainbows,” Jeongguk’s mutter vibrates against your chest, warm breath fanning over the cold skin, distracting you from your no-giggling mission.

The unexpected observation has your brows furrowing in a mildly offended frown, and banter is ready on your tongue. “You’re just the same too, Gguk. The emo boy who thinks he’s too cool for a smile.”

“I’m not an emo boy. The fuck,” he scoffs, kissing his teeth and murmuring more of his indignation under his breath.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. I can teach you.”

The whirring needle glides across your skin with a slightly firmer touch, making you hiss softly under your breath. He seems unbothered by the reaction, and instead bothered by your words, “Teach me what.”

“How to smile a bit more,” you reply, your voice laced with mockery as you keep your gaze firmly fixed on the wall. The smirk playing on your lips is triumphant; he walked right into your little jab, hehe.

Your mind is already racing, piecing together the beginning of a sarcastic rant about how his perpetual scowl probably contributed to his mysterious high school persona. For the sake of his ego, you won’t add how it worked in his favor, how more than one girl (your own self) found his untouchable vibe completely irresistible.

Even though, thinking back, he looked ridiculous. His big, round, slightly scared-of-the-world eyes truly didn’t belong with the heavy black eyeliner.

But before you can get a single word out, Jeongguk straightens his posture, pulling away from your chest. With a practiced motion, he tosses one of his gloves onto the counter behind him, his expression cool and indifferent. “It’s done.”

“Done?!” you exclaim, tilting your chin down to look at your chest. You go slightly cross-eyed trying to catch a glimpse of the design now inked onto your skin. Forever.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t even feel it.”

Jeongguk seems equally done with small talk, transitioning into a professional explanation of the tattoo’s aftercare step. His tone is calm but clipped, and you can’t tell if it’s his usual demeanor or just reserved for you. He also hands you a small tube of cream of which you’re not sure the use of, too enthralled by the vision of his colored sleeve this up close.

And still laying on the leather bed, you almost reach to trace one of the many lines with your finger before he interrupts, “You can pay with Yoongi at the entrance.”

Clearing your throat, you sit up, brushing imaginary dust off your skirt as Jeongguk turns his back to you, his focus already back on cleaning his tools. You still are not over, “Thank you, Jeongguk. Can I— huh. Can I get your number?”

He pauses mid-motion, just long enough for the silence to stretch thin and taut. Turning around to study your features, he stares you up and down with knitted brows and a hostile kind of confusion painting his expression. “… For what exactly?”

“In case anything happens with the tattoo.”

Jeongguk stills for a second, eyes narrowing slightly, then turns back to what’s keeping him so occupied with a noncommittal grunt, “Huh. Sure. Yoongi has my business cards at the desk. You can ask him. Have a good day.”

With Eunbi practically dragging you out of the room, you don’t have the chance to say anything more, though your chest burns with indignation. It’s not that you expect him to fall over himself at the chance to catch up, but the sheer indifference is maddening.

Should you pretend you don’t care either? You could. But really, who are you fooling? You still have those old diaries buried somewhere in your closet, their pages crammed with his name written in looping, lovesick cursive. That little girl in you never truly died.

On the fourth day of December, you finally text him. It’s about your tattoo, of course. There’s not much else to say to him, but when his only reply to your picture of the healing process is a yellow thumbs up, you find your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Words start forming before you’ve fully processed them, and before you know it, you hit send.

You [3:39 p.m]: btw u still friends with kim tae?

jeongguk [3:42 p.m.]: Yes

jeongguk [3:42 p.m.]: He’s my best friend

You [3:43 p.m.]: ohhh, cool

jeongguk [3:45 p.m.]: You want his number?

You [3:46 p.m.]: no… i’m good with yours ☺️

You can’t help but giggle at how his typing bubbles appear and then fade for a whole minute, biting your lower lip with a sheepish grin, savoring the silent victory. You’re doing this for your fourteen-year-old self, who would’ve squealed at the thought of making Jeon Jeongguk flustered. But you’re a different girl now. You’ve changed. No man could ever reject—

jeongguk [3:48 p.m.]: If there’s nothing else about the tattoo then 👋

“Hmph,” your frown is so pronounced that you feel your chin aching and your wrinkles prematurely deepening. Well, this is not the first time you come face first with his sour antics. Only now, you’re prepared.

You [3:48 p.m.]: yall hanging out soon? let me join

jeongguk [3:49 p.m.]: Why lol

jeongguk [3:49 p.m.]: He barely even remembers you probs

You [3:50 p.m.]: who would not remember me

jeongguk [3:50 p.m.]: The only thing i’m now remembering about you is how I couldn’t stand your ass

You gasp, hand coming up to brush against your parted lips. With a huff, you hastily click at your keyboard, “Mean. Sent. Ugh.”

On the sixth day of December, your persistence pays off, and you find yourself at a random bar you’d never been to before, seated with both Jeongguk and Taehyung.

Between Jeongguk’s cigarette breaks—forcing the three of you to brave the cold outside—and brief moments in corners of the cramped place where the music feels muffled against the walls, you manage to catch up with Taehyung. The rest of the time though, the noise inside is so deafening that it makes any kind of meaningful conversation impossible.

Even more when a random girl slides into the booth next to him, capturing his attention entirely, leaving you and Jeongguk in paradoxical silence.

The tattoo artist has been glued to his phone with his head down for the last 20 minutes, and now you alternate between observing his side profile, roughened by the piercings and a more defined jawline, and analysing the weird dynamic that is beginning to form between Taehyung and the girl, sitting in front of you.

Alone with your thoughts and, well, the pulsating music, you feel yourself getting unreasonably closer to symptoms you know all too well, that threaten to have you spiraling. You shake your head, forcing it to stop. There’s no reason for anxiety to visit you at such an inconvenient time.

But of course, the little voice in your head starts listing all the totally valid motives why this is indeed the perfect time for it to visit you.

The bar feels suffocating on your skin.

Your dress clings too tightly.

The couple facing you is shamelessly close to making out.

Jeongguk sighs in visible boredom.

You shouldn’t have come. Hell, you shouldn't have suggested it in the first place. A smarter version of yourself would have brought Eunbi for balance, for comfort. But in your foolishness, you thought this could be an opportunity for you and Jeongguk to catch up. Instead, you feel foreign to him, foreign to this pub booth, and the air begins to feel foreign to your lungs. You’ve never liked bars, clubs, or places with loud music.

You sniffle, looking down at your lap. Then up at the ceiling. Then around the room. It keeps spinning and booming with volume that only adds to the feeling of helplessness. Quick, quick, quick.

What are five things that you can see?

Five. Your gaze falls on Taehyung and the girl, their lips and tongues clumsily entangled as they laugh between sloppy kisses. No help there. The air catches harder in your throat.

Four. Your empty glass, its smudged rim a reminder of the single drink you had, now sitting uncomfortably in your stomach.

Three. Your scuffed heels, their tips worn to the nub despite your best efforts to hide it with a marker.

Two. The swirling lights above the bar, dizzying as they flash brighter and brighter.

One. Jeongguk’s tattooed hand on your thigh.

His fingers dig into the skin, shaking you alarmedly, with a force you’ve never known from him, not even when it came to stopping your shaking stomach as you were laying on the studio’s leather bed.

Head snapping up to face him, you’re met with a perfect resemblance of how you must look right now. Wide eyes, knitted brows, nose flaring and exhaling, and you try to follow the movements of his mouth, but they jumble together annoyingly in your brain. You lean closer, narrowed orbs still fixated on his lips to try and read them. Are… you… ok—

“___, you’re scaring me. Hey, hello? Are you okay?”

Jeongguk moves from your thigh to your shoulders, jolting you gently but firmly from the fog that is threatening to cloud up your brain. The sudden clarity hits you, but you still stumble forward, your weight toppling over his chest. With it, your head dips rapidly, hurtling toward the sharp edge of the table, and before Jeongguk knows it his instinct snaps and he catches you promptly.

The next steps blur together. You vaguely register the boy next to you standing up and pulling you along with him, his broad shoulders supporting one of your arms while his inked one secures around the small of your waist, holding you firmly against him.

Then, it’s nothing but brief flashes. Jeongguk pressing a water bottle to your lips. Sitting you down on the stairs outside the pub. Holding your hair back as you double over, emptying the contents of your stomach onto the pavement. Cracking a smile to make you laugh, showing off his tattoos in exaggerated detail like it’s the grandest tour of your life. Opening the door to his car and gently easing you into the passenger seat, ensuring the seatbelt clicks into place.

Inside his car, you slowly feel your senses come back to you.

At a redlight that you recognise as the one near your apartment complex, you muster a small and hoarse thank you. Jeongguk only hums low, eyes fixated on the road and fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel.

Before a sheepish smile can make its way on your lips and spread across your face, your head twitches back as your brows furrow. Your thoughts suddenly catch up with you, “Hey, how do you know the way to my flat?”

His gaze briefly flicks toward you in annoyance, then back to the road. “You literally just told me.”

“Oh.” A beat passes before you giggle softly. “Don’t remember.”

Jeongguk mutters something intelligible under his breath, and next thing you know he’s turning down your street and slowing in front of the building that matches the number you gave him. Given your current state, he begins to question if that is even the right one.

“This one!” You point at the tall front gate with an almost childlike excitement, back shifting slightly from the seat as your grin stretches wide. Jeongguk grimaces. Why the fuck do you look like you’ve been reuinted with your home after years apart, as if you weren’t there just a couple hours ago?

“Right. Huh, you good with going back on your own?”

“Yes. I’d hate to bother you further. I’m sorry for this, I… was getting better, I guess.”

The sad confession doesn’t land with the weight it should, softened by the smile painted on your lips and the chuckle you let out as if it were nothing. Jeongguk’s eyelid twitches, unsettled by the unnecessary happiness that always seems to drip from you, even when it doesn’t belong.

“‘S okay. Have a good night,” he awkwardly bows his head, waiting for you to exit the car. When you stay still, he clears his throat, adding just to fill the silence, and perhaps because he means it, “Huh, and make sure to rest a lot.”

You take a moment, maybe longer than you should, to study his features up this close. You particularly fixate on the way his eyes dart everywhere but never land on yours. Then, with your signature toothy grin, you bow back and open the car door, leaving with a string of thank yous, and get home safe, and I’ll text you, and please, reply to me, and bye.

Jeongguk has to fight a smile of his own.

On the tenth day of December, you realise you want him. Even more badly than your fourteen-year-old self ever did. Which is frankly insane.

You don’t know if it was the natural way he looked after you during your episode, or his dry sarcasm as he actually started replying to your random updates throughout the day.

But no, it was definitely the selfie he sent you after what he said was a long day. Messy hair, tired eyes, a hint of a smile. You’d struggled to even gulp down your saliva when the picture popped up in your chat, and maniacally stared at it with eyes glued to the bright screen before sending one of your own. He had replied with Cute. followed by Your hair pin is cute.

That is why you find yourself facing… Yoongi? If you remember correctly. The guy at the front desk of Jeongguk’s studio.

You beam at him, and what you’re met with instead is a confused stare. You inhale, “Hi. Is Jeongguk in?”

Yoongi scratches his head, muttering, “He’s busy with a client.”

“Oh. It’s okay,” you wave off his concern. “Can I wait here?”

The boy hesitates, looks unsure the more your interaction develops, and he glances between you and the empty waiting area. He relents with furrowed brows, “Sure… Huh, It’s a back tattoo, so it’ll take him a while.”

You shrug and plop yourself onto the leather sofa, seemingly unfazed, “I like waiting.”

Crossing your legs, you take in the studio’s atmosphere, eyes drifting to the dark walls lined with framed artwork and certificates. You spot Jeongguk’s name on many of those.

For the next fifteen minutes, you try distracting yourself by flipping through the stack of tattoo magazines on the coffee table. You wince at inked heads, faces, butts, and even… more private parts. Deciding this world is definitely not for you, you slam the book shut.

By the time an hour passes, you’re fighting a battle with your lack of sleep. The third yawn you manage to stifle, but the fourth escapes before you can stop it. Yoongi, seated at the desk, doesn’t bother hiding his unimpressed stare. Still, he’s polite enough to offer you a glass of water, a coffee, or even a chance to join him for a cigarette break.

You decline all of it, though your throat does feel dry.

Maybe you should have planned this with a bit of rationality. Or at least gotten more sleep. Now, your every blink is slower, eyelids batting to shut and taking longer to flutter open again. Hm, this feels nice. You’ll just let them rest for a bit longer. And longer. And a bit more.

The next time you open your eyes, Jeongguk’s face is inches away, his warm hand resting firmly on your arm. You jolt upright with a startled yelp.

“Jeongguk.”

He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in an unmistakably mocking smirk. “Hey. You don’t have a bed?”

You sit up, forcing Jeongguk to step back and straighten to his full height. Your neck cranes upward to glare at him, brows furrowed in what you hope is an intimidating glare, though you sport a pout that is all but menacing, “Shut up.”

He clicks his tongue, turning back to round the desk and fiddle with the appointment book, clearly unbothered. You take the moment to rub your eyes—only to remember, too late, that you’d worn makeup. A quick glance around reveals how much has changed since you last let your eyelids flutter open. The lights in the studio are dim, the hallway is dark, and every door is shut. Yoongi is nowhere in sight. It’s just the two of you in the deathly quiet space.

You gasp, pressing a hand to your parted lips, “Did I fall asleep? I'm so sorry. I was probably really tired from yesterday.”

Jeongguk hums, focus still locked on the book in front of him, eyes narrowed. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t ask why you came here in the first place, and doesn’t acknowledge your apology. Ugh. This is humiliating.

Before you can stand, you feel something heavy draped over your body. It’s a jacket. Definitely not yours, since you never took it off. At least not consciously. No, this is a worn black leather one on which his scent lingers. You tug it closer, puzzled, and then look up at him, holding it out. “Did I steal this in my sleep?”

Jeongguk scrunches his nose, “Ew, are you a sleepwalker?” Locking the till, he strolls over to you and plucks the jacket from you, casually slipping it on. “No, I put it on you. Wanted to see how long someone could feel safe enough to pass out in my studio. Thinking of turning this place into a daycare. I’ll have you play in the morning, get some lunch, nap time...”

There’s a beat of silence in which his sarcasm lingers in the air, and you stare at him, unamused. He shrugs, smirk unwavering.

You huff, “I regret coming here.”

“Yeah, why did you come here?”

Smoothing down your pink wool sweater, you stand up to stretch with zero shame. Then, fluttering your lashes at him, you assert with a smile, “You’re coming with me to the Christmas markets. This Sunday.”

Jeongguk groans like the idea physically pains him, “Oh, I would fucking hate that.”

Ignoring him, you zip up your puffer jacket and rock on your toes, “Pick me up at seven, okay?”

He glares, unimpressed at your excitement, before heading toward the entrance and pulling a hefty set of keys from his pocket, “I don’t even remember where you live.”

You hurry after him, following him outside and shuffling closer in your coat at the cold air hitting you. Watching as he locks the door and pulls down the rolling shutter with its red-and-black skull graffiti, you chirp, “You’ll have to text me for that.”

Jeongguk rises up again, giving you a slow once-over. He seems distracted by your hair before snorting, “You’re talking like I’m the one who spent their afternoon napping in my studio just to drop this bomb and leave. Couldn’t you just text me this?”

You shrug innocently. He sighs, reaching out for you, “Do you need a ride hom—”

“Bye!”

You spin on your heel and skip off in the opposite direction before he can let his own greeting out, waving a gloved hand behind you. Jeongguk stays where he is, arm still held out.

Do you even have a car? He hopes so—it’s freezing out.

With another sigh, he shakes his head and tugs his jacket tighter around himself. Why are you so fucking weird?

On the fourteenth day of December, your arm is looped tightly through Jeongguk’s as you stroll through the Christmas markets, burying your face further in your scarf to shield against the icy air, and with each few step you gasp at things that the boy next to you finds utterly unimpressive.

You stop at nearly every stand, eyes glowing with the warm Christmas fairy lights strung all around, effortlessly picking up conversations with the vendors and melting even the most stoic faces with the scrunching of your nose at every grin and the exaggerated nods following descriptions of their crafts.

Through all of it, Jeongguk remains put at your side, his arm linked with yours and a subtle pout on his lips. When you tease him about it, he simply shrugs, and you figure it’s just his natural expression. You find that oddly endearing.

He still humors your enthusiasm, offering low hums or murmured praise whenever you exclaim you’ve finally found what you’ve been searching for everywhere, and he offers to pay every time, the gesture so casual that he doesn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest.

When you bow to the nth seller, clutching yet another bag of sweet treats tightly to your chest, Jeongguk exhales and resumes slow walking beside you, “I don't like these places.”

You glance up at him, fluffy hat almost slipping off before he promptly secures it back on your head with a gesture so smooth you hardly notice it. You instead wonder, “Then why are we here now?”

He slips his hand into his pocket, “Because you threatened me.”

“With a really good time.”

“If this is your version of a good time, you might as well kick me in the balls. That probably feels better.”

You gasp, halting in your tracks to glare at him. When he lets a small chuckle topple out of him, you think you might forgive him. No, you’re more than sure with the way his smile lingers. You sheepishly look away, muttering, “Don’t tempt me, emo boy.”

“I’m not—”

“Oh yes, you are,” you interrupt, snapping your face back to his. Clearing your throat, you prepare your best imitation of him, exaggerating a frown and lowering your voice, “I’m so different, I hate Christmas.”

Jeongguk scoffs, pulling you tighter to him when a scooter unexpectedly zips past you. You yelp, instinctively shuffling closer to his arm. He continues the conversation casually, unaffected, “That’s the worst impression of me I’ve ever heard. And also, I never said that.”

Releasing the breath you held for a moment too long, you uncertainly keep your slow stroll going, only narrowing your orbs at him, “It’s written all over your face.”

“I love Christmas.”

The admission is small, his voice soft and almost reluctant, like it pains him to reveal something so simple and obvious as loving Christmas. When you lean your chin on the puffed arm of his jacket, he doesn’t look down at you, his gaze fixed ahead, guiding the two of you through the chaos of the busy street.

You chirp, your steps stumbling, “Really?

Only then he shifts his attention to you, steadying you with his other arm wrapping around your figure in what seems like a hug, before he lifts you up by the neck of your coat and retreats just enough to face you. His lips press into a straight line as he nods, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes the more he stares in yours, “Yeah, really. I just don’t like… crowded spaces.”

You can’t help but think back to what happened just a week ago. The exact reason why the spirals in your brain wouldn’t stop twisting and tangling is now slipping from his lips in a voice that quietens as he seems to grasp the delicacy of his own confession.

He doesn’t like the way you’re looking at him. Drawn-up brows over wide and sparkling eyes—the only part of your face visible beneath your scarf—stare at him with something too tender, too focused, that makes him uneasy. He turns his head to the side, the tips of his ears red not only from the cold, and pulls you along toward another stand, an almost nervous distraction.

It’s your turn to frown. Maybe the one that’s permanently plastered on his face tonight isn’t just a reflection of his usual sullen demeanor. With a knot tightening in your chest, you can’t help but feel like you dragged him into something he truly hated, and that he wasn’t just pretending to.

What if this isn’t just your evil inner voice talking? What if this isn’t just overthinking, but the factual truth of your current reality? He’s hating every second of this but still enduring it because— you catch your breath with a long and strained inhale, because—

“Hey, dimples. You okay?”

Jeongguk moves to stand in front of you, his hands settling gently on your shoulders, a stance eerily reminiscent of that night you were just thinking back to. He nods at you, “Breathe with me, hm?”

You find yourself quickly adjusting to his comforting aura, drawn in by the reassurance in his eyes trained on you, never wavering, watching closely as you begin to mirror the measured rise and fall of his chest, your breathing gradually syncing with his until the tightness in your chest starts to ease.

When you feel your feet touching the ground again, you offer a small, apologetic smile. “I’m okay. Sorry. Just…” You quickly scan your surroundings, eyes landing on a colorful stand, “Wait here a second, okay?”

Jeongguk lets you slip away, fingers twitching slightly at his sides. He takes a few hesitant steps closer, careful not to crowd you but unable to tear his eyes away from your next actions, how your grin comes back on your lips with unpracticed ease, lighting up your face as easy talk flows between you and the seller. A few coins trade hands, and soon you’re holding two churros, their chocolate-dipped ends threatening to drip onto the ground.

You don’t hesitate, biting into one of them before it has the chance to make a mess, and with a quick nod of your head you motion for Jeongguk to follow. He does so, only after taking the churros from your hands, and letting you seek his warmth again with an arm snaking under his. He’s only letting you do this because it’s fucking cold, no other reason.

You walk, and walk, guiding him along until you find a quieter corner, away from the bustle, where you two stand isolated from the rest. The dim lighting casts a softer glow, and the distant hum of chatter and music fades into a gentle background noise.

Glancing up at him, you flash a playful smile before leaning in to bite another chunk of the churro he’s holding, your laughter spilling out as he grimaces in exaggerated disgust and pulls the sweet out of your reach. You settle onto a nearby bench, patting the empty spot beside you invitingly.

Jeongguk is unsure of what this means. He takes slow steps towards you, handing you your churro—which you take eagerly, already chewing on it—before tilting his head back in mild confusion, “But… you wanted to visit the markets.”

You shake your head, your bug eyes meeting his as you speak around a mouthful of sugar and chocolate, “There’s no point if you’re not going to enjoy it.”

The look you’re giving him is one he’s seen countless times before—familiar, and annoyingly reminiscent of ten years ago. It’s the same look that, he’s convinced, is solely responsible for making his knees weak and his fingers jittery, no longer something he can blame on the cold. You’re unbelievably frustrating.

He clicks his tongue, looking away, “You’re fucking weird.”

You giggle, humming, “If weird is a synonym for whipped, then sure.”

He has to fight the twitch of his lips. Fakes a gag instead. You chuckle louder. Only then, he hints at a smile, “C’mon. Let’s go check out some other stuff.”

“But—”

He interrupts, pulling you up by your forearm, “I’m hungry.”

The next hour you spend wandering around is made of Jeongguk’s small, imperceptible ways of cracking: his pout less prominent, more replaced by lips pulled into a tight line or in a mildly pursued scowl as you ask him which beanie looks better—the pink or purple one; his so evident sarcasm as he comments on how the old vendor was totally flirting with you, or when he mockingly adds to your over-the-top excitement every time you spot a dog. All in all, he’s more relaxed. More himself.

You then find yourself standing in front of the churros stall from earlier, the warm scent tugging you closer. Without hesitation, you ask the lady behind the counter for another four churros—this time with extra sugar. You add two thank yous.

To fill the waiting, you pick up casual conversation with the woman, until she pauses mid-sentence, wrinkled hand coming to rest over her heart as her gaze flits between you and Jeongguk, her crinkled eyes lighting with a sudden fondness and a quiet, content smile finds its space on her chapped lips, “You two look perfect together.”

Jeongguk snorts, “Oh, we’re not—”

“Thank you, auntie!” You chirp, and your grin is so wide it squeezes your eyes into crescents. You accept the first churro she hands over, biting into it and talking through it, “These are delicious. Is the recipe a secret or can you share it with me?”

The woman laughs, clearly flustered by your energy, and leans in with a conspiratorial expression, though she gives in pretty soon, “It is a secret, but… Oh, c’mon. A pretty lady like you deserves to know.”

You burst into chuckles, joined by auntie’s own rolling and carrying a contrasting warmth to the cold air. Jeongguk, for his part, stands slightly to the side, observing. You still cling to his arm, even as the vendor reaches over to gently smooth her fingers through your curls, complimenting the way they frame your face. You roll your eyes, feigning exasperation, but there’s a dimpled smile stretching on your cheeks that gives you away.

Before you leave, the lady points to Jeongguk, voice growing earnest, “You, handsome. I can see you’re a good guy, so you probably don’t need my advice. But treat her right, yes?”

Jeongguk stills for a second and stumbles over an awkward nod, managing to force a smile that has you stifling a laugh under your scarf. You tug him away with a cheerful wave to your new friend, promising her you’ll come visit again before Christmas.

Once you’re at a safe distance, he mutters, “Why did you not tell her that we’re not together?”

You tilt your head considering his question, “It’s not like she knows us. She looked like she adored you. I didn’t want to ruin that for her. Maybe seeing a young couple like us really means a lot to her.”

Jeongguk observes how the more you explain, the more you’re convincing yourself as much as him, eventually solidifying your reasoning as you nod, muttering some more under your breath. He scoffs, looking away to hide his lips twitching.

When he turns back he’s frowning, though it doesn’t quite match the way he lets you hook arms again, your pastel pink bag hanging from his shoulders. Still, he sulks as though the mere thought of your observation has him shivering, and not with the cold, “We’re not a couple.”

Jeongguk barely gets to let his unnecessarily petty comment out before you drag him with an unusual strength over to another stand, his voice not even touching your ears, “Oh, let’s go over there, Gguk!”

On the twenty-first day or December, you send him a picture of your tattoo.

You had been talking non-stop ever since your… date? Or was it just a hangout? Whatever it was, it’s been a week, and Jeongguk finds himself smiling at a fucking screen too many times a day for his linking. It’s irritating. Even brings his phone with him to the bathroom in case you text him. Not because he cares. No, it’s practical. What if you ever had an emergency and he was the only one who could help?

Most of the time it’s just you sending TikToks, but he clicks on the links with the same urgency he’d reply to a genuine plea for help. He doesn’t really want to think of the reason why.

Now, this picture—it catches Jeongguk off guard.

It doesn’t even look like it’s about the tattoo. Not really. It feels like an excuse, a flimsy pretext for you to show yourself to him. The tattoo—the one he himself inked—is there, yes. But it’s not at all the main focus of the photo that tightens his grip on his phone.

You’re wearing a thin, pink tank top with delicate lace trim, the straps barely clinging to your shoulders. Your fingers hook under the neckline, tugging it down just enough to expose the tattoo nestled between the soft curve of your breasts. The angle of the shot is deliberate, he can tell. Your back arches slightly off what he assumes is your bed, and your face is cropped out, save for your glossed lips, full and slightly parted, catching the dim light.

Jeongguk blinks, hard. Then again. His throat bobs as he swallows thickly, the low light of his phone screen doing little to soften the image burning itself into his mind. His eyes dart upward, scanning his surroundings, just to make sure everything is in place. The shop is empty, the door is closed, the hum of quiet settles over the space.

Looking down, the picture still stares back at him paired with a single message.

Annoying [11:39 p.m.]: do you think it’s healed? idk about this stuff, need your help 🥺

He’s not stupid. He knows exactly what this is. He alternates between the photo and your words, jaw ticking and tightening more with the seconds flowing.

It’s almost cruel, the way you’re testing him like this. He tries to push the feeling down, to reject the buzz of heat pooling low in his stomach. You know him well enough to be aware that he won’t reply to something like this. A stupid, unnecessary message. The tattoo is healed—he told you that a week ago, clear as day. There’s no reason for you to ask again.

What’s the purpose of this?

He gets a distorted idea when he shifts uncomfortably in place, the dull ache tightening his pants almost unbearable now.

Jeongguk groans and locks his phone, tossing it onto the counter as if that will put an end to this. He tries to refocus on his tasks, the last ones before he clocks off. Cleaning needles, tossing used stencils.

But his heavy balls keep sending desperate, silent prayers to his brain, to please let them have this. Just this once.

It’s been a bad day. Two of his appointments canceled last minute, leaving him to sit around bored. The last client showed up drunk and wouldn’t stop trying to flirt with him. His coworkers were loud and distracting, and to top it all off, the heater broke, leaving the studio freezing cold.

It’s been such a bad day.

So, would there be any harm? It’s not like anyone will know. Not you, not his friends. He’s the only one that will. And he’s far more willing to live with this dirty secret rather than with his hard dick straining achingly in its confines.

Jeongguk abruptly snatches up his phone again, unlocking it to the same picture that caused him to brush the device aside just minutes ago. He lets out a shaky breath, thumb hovering over the screen. You won’t get no reply to him. But if you knew what he was up to right now, you would probably geek. Tease him, with your warm smile that digs dimples in your cheek, hopping on your toes to poke at his chest playfully, with those perfectly manicured hands of yours.

“Shit,” his free hand is already pushing the jeans down along with his boxers, and he drops his weight onto the nearest stool as he grips at the base of his thick cock, eyes devouring the image of you in the empty chat.

He doesn’t zoom in. That would feel too shameless. But he finds it oddly better like this. Is it weird that your text, so innocently worded, is turning him on? That the simple idea of you needing his help is enough to have his hips jerking?

What could you possibly need his help for? Fuck. The different ideas that pool his mind have him squeezing harder at his stinging tip.

Jeongguk focuses on your dainty hand, slim pointer finger snaking under the collar of your flimsy shirt to show yourself to him, and your small boobs spill from the sides with a delicious, soft swell. He hisses when he pictures that same hand working on him instead, his warm mouth stuffed with your stiff nipples, visible through the sheer material.

He can’t help the loud groan leaving his lips, wrist flickering up and down in a motion that feels sloppy way too soon, hips jutting up to fuck into his tight fist. Throwing his head back, he sees you even behind closed eyelids.

He pictures your delicate figure sprawled on his bed, long lashes batting up at him as you sheepishly hide with your cheek to your shoulder. Can clearly make out how you’d sit on his lap instead, unsteady breath fanning over his lips, using his long shaft to make yourself cum. The whole time, he sees the tattoo on your chest, the one that is forever on you, eternally a reminder of him.

When he lets his head topple forward again, his bright screen still stares at him, only because a new message pops up in the chat. He startles, and his cock throbs in his hand.

Annoying [11:52 p.m.]: oh, and i miss you.

“Oh, fuck,” the curse is strained through a loud whine, and only followed by more of his full moans filling the room. His brows knit as his hand moves rapidly, palm collecting the precum spreading embarrassingly fast on his tip and rolling it down his length.

He focuses on your parted lips, the soft curve of your breast, your hard nipples begging to be sucked and spit on. Your last text has flashes of your bug-like eyes staring up at him seizing his mind.

That’s what undoes him. He’s delirious as he lets out his every sound, freely, unchecked, not caring about how loud he is, whimpering as he gets closer to his climax. When he thinks of those eyes locking with his, kneeling before him, eager and willing to swallow his every drop, he cums. Hard.

Jeongguk pumps everything he can out of him, and it’s messy—spilling over his hand, staining his clothes, pooling on the floor. His chest heaves with the effort, and the sensation of abandon he feels is so pleasurable, energy drained but leaving him with a lightness that threatens to make his cock hard again.

Fuck. He can’t afford that happening if you’re not the one attending his needs. This won’t be enough, not until it’s you. He’s insatiable.

Jeongguk needs to hear your voice.

It’s an instinct, and he bends to it. He’s careful, making sure not to tap on the FaceTime option, because if you were to see him right now it’d be glaringly obvious.

When he looks to the side, he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the long mirror, and he visibly grimaces at the way his cheeks are flushed, the pearls of sweat coating his forehead causing his bangs to stick uncomfortably to the skin.

Guilty doesn’t even begin to cover it.

With the phone to his ear beeping to eternity, he hesitates, contemplates ending the call before you can answer. But just then, you do.

“Jeongguk! Is everything okay?”

Your voice is familiarly soft, but there’s a trace of concern. Blinking, he brings the device closer again and gulps thickly when he can make out your panting breaths. He clears his throat and puts on his best nonchalant act, “Huh— Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know… You just never call. Or text first. This is weird. You sure you’re okay?”

Oh. Is that really what it is like?

Jeongguk never realized this was how he came across—so detached that a simple phone call feels out of character. Your naive honesty hits him square in the chest. God, he needs to get better at this. The irony stings: he just fucking jerked off to your picture and the simple thought of you, while you’re on the other side thinking he’s just a careless piece of shit who doesn’t even know how to call.

The long stretch of silence registers in his brain, and he coughs to buy time, “Yes, I’m sure. I— huh,” he thinks of stuff you usually ask to keep the conversation flowing. Not out of courtesy, but out of genuine interest, the curiosity that makes people want to open up. He’s still not used to that. Still finds it weird.

“How… How was your day?”

It must be equally weird for you because it takes you a longer beat to reply. In that quiet moment, he clenches his eyes shut and feels his jaw tick with shame. And embarrassment. And this icky feeling that makes him feel too mushy for his liking. Hell, what is he doing? He’s never been like this, he’s not supposed to be like this.

But you recover quickly, as you always do, and you smooth over the moment. Fix it all for him like you were born to be just that. Make him feel like he fits in ways that have him exhaling shakily.

Jeongguk senses a foreign drumming in his stomach, and it’s warm but odd, and he loves it but he doesn’t want to.

On the twenty-fifth day of December, cheekily under a mistletoe, Jeongguk realizes he wants you. There’s parts of him that probably knew way sooner. But the parts of him that didn’t, fighting tooth and nail to suppress the mere thought, are just now finally surrendering.

Jeongguk has always found you admirable, back in high school. You had this determination to you. Not only when it came to him. It shone particularly when you catered to others, always finding ways to help, to mend, to offer yourself with nothing less than a fully toothed smile.

But he’s also always thought you two were—and still are—too different to work. He can’t be what you want, let alone what you deserve: someone who can match your enthusiasm and unwavering smiles, your frustrating positivity; someone who sees the world the way you do. No black, no grey, no shades in between. Just bright, hopeful white. Blinding white.

It’s the white making him dizzy, shifting his perspective, having him believing the opposite of what he’s always known. Pushing to be a little more egoistical, deceiving himself that he’s right for you. Because he wants to be. He oh, so selfishly wants people to know he’s the one who finally gets to have you, the one gifted with such a light, unfairly deserving of all the love you carry into every room you walk into.

Just a few days ago, during another one of your increasingly frequent phone calls, you asked him what he was doing for Christmas. He could have lied, come up with something on the spot.

But with how you so easily, and always coax the truth out of him, he let it slip. He told you he’d be alone, words subtly heavy. But they didn’t have the chance to even drop their weight before you were already inviting him to your friend’s party, insisting that he would be the most welcome.

And he’s here, and he sits beside you, and every time you laugh you lean your weight over him, and the room vibrates with the energy you fill it with, and each one of your friends is so enamoured with you, and for reasons he can’t fully understand it fills him with a sense of pride that shouldn’t belong to him. But it does, and it comes with so many other feelings.

You don’t push him to talk. You never force him into the spotlight when he takes a step back, quietly observing, choosing to stay in the background. Because you read him like it’s in your nature to do so, your soul seems to intuitively melt with his, and it intertwines in such a tight knot that he feels it constrict his throat. He knows he’s still alive because his heart is beating, just a little faster with each time you flash your dimples at him.

“Dimples. What are you doing, hm?”

Now, he’s in front of you, a small smile on his lips as you stand on your tiptoes, trying to dangle the mistletoe over both your heads. You’re struggling just a little, your hand unable to reach high enough, and the fake plant awkwardly brushes his hair, the tickling sensation causing his nose to scrunch. You laugh.

Looking up at your swinging movements, you lose your balance for the slightest second. Jeongguk’s hands move instinctively, catching you promptly by the waist to steady your body. But even after that, he doesn’t shift, his warm palms stilling. And when you face him, he’s closer and his chest brushes against yours. From this proximity, he witnesses the Christmas lights painting a galaxy of their own in your orbs.

You beam, “What does it look like? We have to kiss now.”

Jeongguk stares in your expectant eyes, brows wiggling and all. The more his mouth keeps in a straight line, the more the wiggling slows. You eventually come down from your tiptoes, letting the mistletoe fall to the side, tilting your head.

He snorts, looking away briefly to hide an embarrassingly wide grin behind his hand. When he turns back to you, your pout is enough to have him scrambling to meet your gaze.

“On one condition, though.”

You chirp, “Yeah?”

He licks his teeth, reserving you with a smug look, “Admit that you were scared to get your tattoo.”

Your smile vanishes in an instant, your expression falling into mock offense. With a dramatic roll of your eyes, you turn on your heel, pretending to walk away from him. Pretending, only because you know he won’t let you. And you’re proven right when his fingers wrap around your arm, tugging you back with enough force to spin you into him. Suddenly, you’re pressed so close you can feel the heat radiating from him. Your chin nearly touches his chest as you glare up at him, narrowed eyes meeting the mischievous glint in his.

He bites a smile, lips twitching, “C’mon, princess. You wanted to act all tough and shit, but I could feel you shaking.”

Your scoff is loud and incredulous, “You’re such a bitch.”

He only shrugs, “You want my kiss, no?”

“Oh my god,” groaning, it’s your turn to face the side to hide a grin, “Are you always this cocky?”

His chin tilts upward slightly, and you can tell he’s enjoying this, “Say it.”

You whip back around to meet him with a seriousness he hardly ever sees on you, and you even clear your throat, channeling every ounce of the determination he knows you for, every drop of resolve that makes you you. “Yes. I was scared shitless, Jeongguk.”

Foreign excitement brims out of him, not before his eyes widen just a fraction, and his nose scrunches the more he leans closer to you, inches from you, swinging side to side with exaggerated mockery and a grin splitting his face, “See! I knew—hmph.”

There’s no other second to waste.

The condition has been met, and now all the requirements for you to claim what you were promised, your reward, are there. Even more when kissing him means catching him mid-taunt and silencing whatever teasing remark he had ready.

Your lips touch his in effortless ease, breaking the air as they press together. It’s tentative at first, almost uncertain as you feel Jeongguk remain still.

But it doesn’t take him longer to move, mouth molding against yours in a sickeningly sweet hug, tasting each other with quiet curiosity, taking your time to adjust and melt, instructing your bodies to imitate the dance.

Your arms lock around his neck, his stronger and tattooed ones circle your waist, and the way you click together feels so right, almost too perfect, so perfect it scares you. When you arch yourself further into him, even the non-existent space between you unbearable, he accompanies the motion with his wide palms gliding along your back, squeezing you into him, feeling the curve of your hips.

The soft whine that scratches your throat and vibrates against his lips betrays you, along with the useless effort to contain the intensity of what you’re feeling. The emotion disarms you, the sound gasping in your chest, but in Jeongguk’s arms it feels safe to let go.

On Christmas day, you crown a youthful fantasy, the kind you’ll look back to even when you’re older. Jeongguk feels like he’d be the right person to stand by you to do so.

When he reluctantly detaches from you, his face keeps at a safe distance that’d allow him to go back and taste you, not before resting his forehead on yours and whispering, “Merry Christmas.”

You giggle. “Merry Christmas, Gguk.”

[hestzhyen]

Hakuri Propaganda

The second fan-made popularity poll is open! This means it's time to hype up the Best Boy out of all Best Boys, Sazanami Hakuri!

Overview

I'll be completely honest here. Hakuri is my favourite character from anything, ever. And I read a LOT of manga and fiction. Like, a lot a lot. So I am here today to convince you to cast your vote for him in the only way I know how to communicate: a long yapfest broken up by relevant manga panels.

I'll be covering his appeal from various viewpoints, starting with a basic overview and the gist and appeal of his character and design, his major moments, his powerscaling and theorycrafting potential, his main ship options, and ending with a final plea to vote for him because he deserves it, dammit.

If that sounds like a lot... it kind of is! But I'll be as succinct as I can be with links to some more in-depth explanations I've done for those who want more yapping for some reason.

So now, without further rambling... HAKURI!

Character Profile

"Will you listen to my story?"

Name: Sazanami Hakuri

Age: 17

Birthday: March 27th (Sakura Day)

First Appearance: Volume 3, Chapter 19: "Knight of Darkness"

Colour Scheme(s): White/Blue, Black/White/Tan

Abilities: Isou, Storehouse

Status: Alive

A passionate and strong-willed young man who was disowned from his family for being too weak to live up to their ideals. He forces himself into Chihiro's life after witnessing his courage as one of the innocents spared from Sojo's attempted massacre. Has a strong desire to save anyone and everyone he can, no matter the cost to himself.

Who Is Hakuri, Really?

Someone's gotta make all the expressions Chihiro never will.

In essence, Hakuri is the ultimate counterweight to Chihiro. Whatever Chihiro's got going on, Hakuri's the opposite- stoic vs. emotive, black/red vs white/blue, etc. I've rambled at great length about how Hakuri exists to be the perfect compliment to everyone's favourite sad goldfish boi down to to the last detail.

But of course he also exists as an incredibly compelling character in his own right or I wouldn't be here to yap about him for the millionth time. Hakuri's deeply intertwined with Chihiro, but not in a co-dependent way. He's his own person with separate motivations, goals, and appeal points that are unique to him. In fact, he's one of the most relatable characters in the manga thanks to the quality of the writing for his backstory and the author's care in depicting how what he experienced affects him in the present.

Most importantly of all: he's vital to the story not only as a narrative device, but as a true friend and companion to Chihiro.

So Hakuri is a very solid option to invest in as a character that will remain relevant and continue to grow as the story goes on- he will never be written out or left behind as he only exists a tier down from Chihiro in terms of importance. He's also going to keep providing valuable parallels to Chihiro's story so that arc themes can be explored from a separate yet deeply connected perspective. All while being one of the most ridiculous and impressive guys in the whole series!

But No, Really, Who is He?

Honestly, in any other manga he'd probably be the protagonist.

Always trying his best.

Hakuri's a really expressive guy who wears his heart on his sleeve (for the most part). He's loud, passionate, even borderline rude in his enthusiasm sometimes. There's also not all that much to guess about him since he's always saying exactly what he's thinking. Hakuri pulls double duty as exposition device and comic relief a lot of the time when he's around too, since he's not exactly worldly in most respects. He's got a lot to learn about the outside world and he approaches everything head-on with no restraint.

He's even got the standard shounen glow-up from down-on-his-luck kid to potential hero thing going on. Hakuri starts at rock bottom as a helpless weakling before he's saved by Chihiro and forces himself into the guy's life. With just a little genuine care and encouragement he's able to bloom into the genius he was always meant to be, ending his own family's cruel legacy at Chihiro's side.

In terms of his motivations: for Hakuri, saving lives is everything. He cares deeply for others and has the best of intentions, willingly throwing himself in danger to protect people even if they don't really him to. "I'll never let another life slip through my hands again!" is something like a mantra to him, spurring him to act no matter what it will cost him. The mindset has allowed him to come up huge in a crisis several times now but it's also one of his biggest flaws.

Because for all the good vibes and hope Hakuri brings to Kagurabachi, he's also got some rather relatable deep-seated issues.

The face of a guy willing to bomb the shit out of an audience of low-life scumbags without feeling even a shred of remorse.

The best way to describe Hakuri is probably just a short phrase: "despite it all, for better or worse".

Hakuri is a deeply layered character who asks the reader to read between the lines of what he says and does to get the full picture of his personality and who he is. He's more than just Chihiro's goofy sidekick and main foil- he's also a traumatized guy with a savior complex and a heaping helping of guilt that compels him to save other people. Throw in a realistically written abusive past that he's had no time to process and you've got a character who really, really needs some time to sit down and cry for a while if he gets the chance- if he'd even let himself.

He's not just another guy who only needed a chance to prove his worth. In fact, he has no concept of how to value himself at all and that's why he's able to be borderline suicidal in his heroism.

He's so tragic under the goofy exterior that we see most of the time, despite most people writing him off as The Funny Guy that comes in clutch from time to time. The way he thinks about the abuse he endured, the way he internalized his family's view on "love", the way he blames himself and tries to make the world a better place because of it... he's so much more than the first impression of a silly guy spilling soda out his mouth that people cling to.

Hakuri's only just starting out on a journey of learning how to love himself despite the mistakes he's made and how he was raised to view the value of life. There's so much more to say about him for as long as the story goes on while he's deprogrammed from thinking of himself as a worthless tool to serve a cause, someone who needs to atone no matter the cost. He's a fascinating character that deserves all the genuine love he's never gotten to experience.

So... What's the Appeal?

Hope: restored

Hakuri is well-loved for being the underdog who could- a guy who was considered worthless but turned out to be a complete genius not just in the context of his family's history, but to the world at large too. He's a truly unique talent that was misunderstood and not given the right environment to succeed in until he found Chihiro and Shiba at his lowest. That's a pretty tried-and-true character hook, and Hakuri certainly earned his moments of triumph during the Rakuzaichi arc. He's got a great feel-good story for anyone to enjoy.

Hakuri's also the most emotive character in the manga and is almost guaranteed to get a few laughs when there's not a life-or-death situation happening. His effusive enthusiasm coupled with a hilarious lack of self-awareness bounces off of Chihiro extremely well to get great dead-pan reactions! Other characters interact with him well too, especially in the rare moments when someone can match his manic energy. He brings a lot of sorely-needed levity in a manga that can (and does) get pretty damn dark on the regular.

There are a few less-talked about points to his character that deserve just as much attention.

For one, Hakuri's a rare example of an abuse victim that's written extremely well. He doesn't exist just for the good vibes and catharsis of overcoming his past- what he endured still affects him a great deal even now that he's totally free to find his own happiness. He's just at the starting line of learning how to overcome serious, realistic issues like learning how to love himself and being able to admit that he didn't deserve what happened to him in the first place.

Second, he's got some appeal for folks who enjoy characters with lots of cohesive contradictions. Hakuri is pretty relatable in how he struggles to apply things to himself, like how he can sob over Chihiro's backstory but minimizes his own. He's also got an ice-cold core that allows him to be absolutely ruthless. Not to mention his super cool aspects like being the most determined determinator there ever was clashing with his cute appearance. He's a character of extremes, always 0 or 100 in everything he does.

Oh, did I also mention that he's cute as heck?

Design Appeal

Yeah, Hakuri was intentionally designed to add cuteness, per the Word of God himself. That's a bonkers thing to say about the male deuteragonist in a gritty action series aimed at presumed cishet male teens, but what do I know?

Boy howdy did the author make good on that, though. Whenever Hakuri's not looking cool or tragic, he's cute. Ridiculously, intensely, overwhelmingly cute.

Kagurabachi characters: Cool Woman, Cool MC, Cute Guy

Hakuri being the "cute" character is absolutely insane to me, and not just because I'm a fudanshi. There are plenty of guys in shounen who have cute aspects to their characters, like Kiyoshi's awkward friendliness and Yuuji's excited country bumpkin moments. But for a major male character to be designed with cuteness as part of their core appeal is pretty unusual, I think. Especially since it looks like that's one of Hakuri's "jobs" in a narrative sense when Char's not around- he's the only one who can pull some softness out of Chihiro other than her so far. No soft "feminine touch" needed in the story when Hakuri's on the job.

But it's not like Hakuri's one of those "trap" characters that exists for not-so-great reasons and jokes. He's clearly masculine, it's just that his cuteness comes from his boyish looks and silly mannerisms. If anything he's "soft" and "cute" only relative to the rest of the hard-edged cast. He's still a guy who didn't hesitate to toss grenades into an audience or kill his brother, y'know? It's all relative.

The best part about Hakuri being the "cute" one in the cast is that it doesn't at all affect how strong he is or what he can do. He's still a tragic badass that gets shit done no matter what. If anything, it gets kind of annoying that some parts of the fanbase only focus on his cuteness to the point of excluding almost everything else! He's not meant to be a soft marshmallow of a character- the cuteness is just a huge part of his design that further accentuates some of that gap appeal between how he looks, thinks, and acts.

Major Moments

With that out of the way, let's highlight his most iconic moments as of chapter 59. He's got it all- silly, tragic, heroic, badass, everything you could want from a character in a cool action series!

RAKUZAICHI ARC

Ch. 19: Hello and Meeting a Samurai

Our very first impression!

Way to make a good first impression, Hakuri. Honourable mention from the same chapter: "That day, a samurai lit my helpless existence on fire".

Ch. 21: Freaky But Meaning Well

Giving encouragement after putting himself in unnecessary danger- that's Hakuri, alright.

Ch. 24: Suicidal Leap

The first time we learn the nature of what's going on beneath his goofy exterior, and that's not even the worst of it.

Ch. 25: Hope Rekindled

Hakuri hears he's been useful for the first time in years, and from someone he deeply admires at that. It's the start of his turnaround from zero-to-hero despite being the lowest point we've seen him at (so far)

Ch. 32: Using Isou for the First Time

He finally starts to awaken to his true potential when he's backed into a corner. The difference this time was having people who believed in him and treated him kindly despite his "uselessness".

Chapter 35: Ice Lady

Hakuri finally opens up about the root of his issues in this flashback, then has the trajectory of his life changed forever.

Ch. 36: Genius Awakened

Hakuri finally understands his true potential...

... and puts his biggest abuser down for good.

Ch. 38: Crowd Killer

Many low-life Yakuza scum were harmed and killed in cold blood.

Ch. 43: Breaking the Cycle at Last

Finally got the acknowledgement he wanted (and deserved all along) from Kyora during his final moments.

Ch. 44: First Steps

Hakuri decides to stay with Chihiro and do as much good in the world as he can.

SWORD BEARER ASSASSINATION ARC Ch. 56: Resonating with the Desire to Save

Hakuri pushing himself well beyond his limits to summon Tobimune for Samura to save the day (not knowing that Samura was a traitor, of course).

There's an image limit to be minded, unfortunately! It'll be hard not to hit the cap for next year's poll propaganda post for sure. But I hope this showcase is a good reminder of everything he's been through and done already- and all the potential he still has to keep being incredible as the story progresses.

Powerscaling & Theorycrafting

Hakuri's the Special Boy!

It's difficult to powerscale in a series that relies mostly on soft power like Kagurabachi does- it's safest to assume that Rule of Cool will take precedence whenever possible. That said, there are enough rules in place to roughly gauge the relative strength of most characters in-universe.

In canon, the Bearers of the Enchanted Blades and a select few singularities like Hiyuki are at the apex of power. Underneath them are elite sorcerers like Shiba and Azami, then regular sorcerers, then regular folks. The categories are very broad and have a lot of room for differences in power within the same tiers. Shiba, for example, did well for himself in a 3-v-1 scenario against the Sazanami Tou, who would be in the same "Elite" class as him.

Where does Hakuri fit in? Well, for one, he's another in-universe anomaly: he has two sorcery techniques available to use instead of the one that most people are limited to. It's quite rare and is one of the unique selling points of his character. This means his potential is quite high as well in terms of placement in the charts! If he can get there, that is.

Abilities

The first of his abilities, Isou [威葬, Majestic Funeral], allows the user to command and create shockwaves. It's not so impressive in terms of visuals but his brother Soya demonstrated how strong it could be by destroying the side of a building while also using it to move in mid-air. The experienced user can also use it in a utility sense to enhance their momentum or slow others down, implying there's some degree of control over the power output.

In terms of downsides, it seems the user can only project the shockwaves in one direction at a time and using the power takes a toll on the body. Isou users are thus expected to be in excellent physical shape in order to use this sorcery to it's maximum potential. Hakuri's build and fitness has never been remarked upon directly, but he's had some of the same training as his siblings and is quite sturdy thanks to being a punching bag for a few years, so he's at least got a solid foundation to work from.

The second of his abilities, ownership of an inter-dimensional storehouse, is the one that gets the most attention. The raw utility of this ability makes Hakuri one of the most useful characters in the cast even though it doesn't provide any direct combat power on it's own. He can transport people and objects he registers to and from a personal subspace only he has access to, move them from wherever they are to somewhere else in the real world, create projections of them, and manipulate the storehouse's configuration at will. He can also register objects that are bound to the owners in certain ways without needing to touch them, which made him an MVP in the current arc. This power is so convenient that many corners of the fandom regard his current status of being KO'd as necessary to prevent him from becoming OP.

The biggest downside to this ability is the huge amount of power it takes to transport things in and out of the subspace, which we've seen lead to severe head pain, nosebleeds, and passing out when overused. Transporting objects also isn't quite instant so an alert enemy can probably react in time if they see or hear the tell-tale bubbles preceding something being summoned. Also, the registration portion of the sorcery falls under the groundwork category, so any sorcerer can resist being registered. Registered sorcerers can also resist being transported after the fact as well. This means that Hakuri can't just tap most of the enemies he'll be facing and shunt them into his storehouse to win a fight.

Where's Hakuri at Right Now?

As a neophyte sorcerer, Hakuri's still pretty limited in what he can do. He woke up to his powers yesterday in-universe and has already overtaxed himself to the point of full-body paralysis and probable burnout. However, since his powers are one of the most unique hooks to his character, there's good reason to believe that he'll only be temporarily side-lined before he can recover and start to train. So there's a lot of potential for him to grow into a true powerhouse that can sit at or near the top of the rankings! Having someone with the raw power of Soya and the insane utility of Kyora sounds awesome, doesn't it?

While he's recovering, though, he's basically no better off than a regular person. He has little to no fighting experience outside of a single day with Chihiro before knocking himself out. He's not proficient with any weapons either. So Hakuri's kind of a wildcard in terms of where he'll ultimately end up in the series' power rankings. He's constantly underestimated in-universe and in the fan community despite how many times he's come in clutch. If you like dark horses and potentially risky bets, he's a great choice!

For the Theorycrafters

There's plenty to chew on for the theorycrafters too. Hakuri's only just awakened to his potential, and we don't know the finer details of how he needs to allocate his spirit energy, so there's wiggle room for interpretations and headcanons for those who like to imagine various what-if scenarios. And if he doesn't recover his sorcery, there's always the option for him to become a Bearer himself- a corner of the fandom has fun theorizing which blade would suit him and how it would happen, where it would place him in the rankings, etc. There's a variation on this where he might give up Isou or the storehouse to bond to a blade, but as we don't know how the mechanics would interact with his special status as someone who has two abilities yet, that's an endless point of debate.

Ships

What is a shounen fandom without a strong shipping element? A pretty boring one, probably. Anyway, Hakuri's actually kind of lacking in ship options based on canon events- he hasn't interacted with many characters other than the three listed below in a significant way yet. But at least they all provide very distinct vibes that have unique appeal. He's got options that will hit some major areas of interest for a wide range of shippers!

Warning: the last one is Dead Dove incarnate. I'm not going to sell it because there's nothing good that can be said about it, but it is included in this list as it's (sadly) his second-most popular ship.

Chihiro - HakuHiro/ChihiHaku (伯チヒ/チヒ伯)

Main Appeal: Soulmates

HakuHiro is a quintessential shounen ship between the protagonist and his best friend/deuteragonist guy and more.

I've written a novel's worth of material about these two already, including why I went all-in on them less than 40 chapters into the series despite not being much of a shipper myself, the romantic tropes they've invoked to varying extents in canon, even actual-factual 13k words worth of fan fiction after over a decade of not being inspired to write much of anything at all. I am quite literally here yammering away about this manga every week in large part because of the HakuHiro ship, it's that incredible to me.

IN CANON, Hakuri and Chihiro are designed from the ground up to be perfect partners on a spiritual level. They've only known each other for a week but they're already fighting as a team like they've been doing it all their lives thanks to the harmony inherent in their relationship. Even now that both of them are down and out, there's no doubt that they'll eventually be at it again. Their souls even call out to each other and resonate when they're in distress! These guys are A and Un: a perfect pair, the beginning and end of all things. IN CANON.

I want to give equal billing to the next ship so I'll leave it at that. But seriously, HakuHiro is the m/m shounen ship to beat in terms of wholesomeness and crazy level of material present in canon to work from already (they even have a few ship tease moments just for the lols! I'm not kidding!).

Ice Lady - Hakuri/Ice Lady (伯氷)

Main Appeal: Tragedy

A sad ship, to be sure. It's also Hakuri's only het option that gets sustained attention.

Ice Lady will probably never have a name reveal but she's a major influence on Hakuri and the reason why he's out in the world to meet Chihiro in the first place. He's also constantly flashing back to her to emphasize the impact she had on his life and philosophy. She's the person who set him on the path to do good in the world instead of continuing to try and earn his family's love through abusing others.

This ship has a strong appeal for people who like thinking about "what if" scenarios- what could have been if things had gone a bit better between them, or if they had met under different circumstances, or if the world was less cruel... it's the ultimate Kagurabachi "what if we all lived?!" pairing this side of BanUru.

Her disingenuous attempt to seduce him failed, but that's no reason to not let the ship set sail- maybe in a different timeline where they did escape together it could have become mutual affection. Or you can believe that Hakuri not only mourns the damage he did to her, but also what could have been between them if he had done things differently. Whatever works best for your tragic shipping senses!

Soya - SoHaku (宗伯)

Main Appeal: Dead Dove

It exists.

Vote for Hakuri!

You're far more loved than you think you are!

Hakuri's been through a lot and still has a ton more to experience. He's had great emotional highs and some deep, deep lows but he's always back on the upswing before long. He's worth the one precious vote given to us for all his charms and relatable traits, amazing moments, and the enhancements he brings to Chihiro's character and the story at large. The manga would be seriously a lot worse off without this tragically heroic goofball!

If you already voted for someone else, it's not too late to change it! The poll will be open until December 21st, so there's still plenty of time to go back in and vote for the Best Boy in Kagurabachi. I think. It's a Google Form so if you leave the page it might be set forever. But anyway, please vote for Hakuri and show him some love! He deserves it all and more!

[marvelouslizzie]

Not Lonely Anymore

summary: You hear your roommate Bucky Barnes moan your name while masturbating and it changes everything between you two.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

word count: 3K

warnings: 18+, dry jumping (brief), unprotected sex, daddy kink, metal arm kink, choking, teasing, dirty talk, no mention of y/n.

A/N: Hello hello! I present you the last part of my Lonely Night series. I am so grateful for your interest in the first two parts. I tried to keep my motivation up and give these two perverts a satisfying ending. I hope you will enjoy it as much as I did. Your feedback would be much appreciated.

You don't have to read the first two parts to understand what's going on but if you want to, please check my blog/masterlist for A Lonely Night and Same Lonely Night.

Thank you so much @notafunkiller for beta-reading and editing. Daddy kink and choking is for you ✌️

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

Read more tag starts after the second paragraph of the story.

You can’t take your eyes off Bucky while you're processing what has just happened. Your eyes roam around his face and bare chest before falling on his shorts. His erection is pressed against the waistband, carefully hidden away from you but the wetness forming on the fabric betrays Bucky’s intentions. You can’t contain your smile, but Bucky doesn’t see it. He’s too lost in his own thoughts, and when your eyes meet, you realize he is worried and embarrassed. He opens his mouth, wanting to say something in order to end this awkward silence, but you beat him to it.

“Did you just say my name?” It comes out so calm, you even surprise yourself.

You know he did. You heard it with your own ears loud and clear. That’s why you dropped your glass after all. But it was that shocking to you. That unbelievable! So you just want him to confirm it. To make it real and assure you that really happened. Maybe then you will be able to believe it.

“I- I can explain.” You notice the cold sweat forming on his forehead.

He seems like a scared kid who got caught doing something he shouldn’t do. And it’s probably because he thinks he might lose you. You would feel the same way if he was the one who caught you masturbating just an hour ago. God, that would be mortifying, but now that you are on the other side of the equation, all you feel is excitement.

The realization eventually sinks in: he wants you. He actually wants you. That gives you a level of confidence you never had before.

You take a step forward and close the distance. Your lips are on his before he can react. You wanted to do this for a long time, but you had been unsure if he would have wanted it or not. You have a clear answer now, so there’s no need to hold yourself back. It takes him a second to respond to you, but you don’t hesitate. You just keep kissing him and it wakes him up like he has been hibernating for a long time.

His hands wrap around your torso and he pulls you closer. His fingers are digging into your hips like he’s trying to convince himself this is real, and he tilts his head just enough to deepen the kiss. His tongue gently slides into your mouth and that makes you moan for the first time. His lips, his tongue… He tastes so sweet. You just can’t get enough of it. It makes you crave him even more, and you don’t know how that is even possible.

Suddenly you push him, hoping to get him back inside his bedroom, but he doesn’t move an inch. He just gives you a dazed look, trying to understand why you did that.

“Work with me. Just move back.” You sound impatient, and he finally understands what you are trying to do.

“Fine.” He raises both of his hands like he’s surrendering, with a smile on his face, then he takes a step back and lets you push him further inside the room. You continue until the back of his knees hits the bed and he falls onto it after one final push.

“Is that what you wanted?” He sounds amused.

“Yeah.” You straddle him without missing a beat, getting comfortable on his lap while he pulls you in for another kiss.

This time it feels a little different. His hands are on your cheeks, holding you still while his tongue explores your mouth. It is the most passionate kiss you have ever had in your life. His erection is standing right there, between your legs and you can’t help yourself… You can’t stop that urge that’s slowly building up and why would you? You’re on his lap, finally doing this. There’s no need to stop yourself from doing what you want. So while he tastes you however he wants, you start to move your hips. After a couple of tries, you find the perfect spot and both of you moan nearly at the same.

He stops kissing you for a second just to take a breath, but he still holds your cheeks with his big hands and looks into your eyes. It’s like he’s afraid you might disappear. You have no plans of disappearing or stopping, though. You keep moving your hips and watching his eyes flutter every time you rub the right spot. It feels good even with the fabric between you two. Yet it’s not enough.

“We should get rid of your shorts.”

“And your panties.”

You raise yourself on your knees, just enough for him to push his shorts down, but you don't give him enough space to take them off completely.

“I don’t wanna use any protection. Do we have to?”

“Well, we don’t have to, but we might need to.” He’s not sure how fertile he is. It’s not like he tried it before, so it’s quite risky. All he knows is he has a lot more come than an average man and that’s a problem when it comes to using condoms. They are practically useless.

“I’m on the pill.” You quickly clarify. You only asked the question to see if he was comfortable with the idea or not.

“Then we definitely don’t need to.” Oh, he’s definitely comfortable. The way he just said it is enough.

He grabs his cock while you pull your panties aside without wasting any time, and you lower yourself onto him while balancing yourself with one arm on his shoulder.

“That impatient?” He taunts you, but he chokes on his words as soon as he feels your wetness. The head of his cock rests between your folds while you answer him:

“Are you not?” You sound relatively normal. Then you keep talking while taking him inch by inch. “Would you rather fuck your fist and fantasize about me?”

He wants to answer you. He wants to say something, but being balls deep inside you makes it harder to do so. He just lets out a low groan while grabbing your ass to ground himself.

You’re not so different from him. The way he stretches you pulls a pornographic moan out of you. You sit still for a second, trying to get used to this feeling. You can’t remember the last time you felt this full. It makes you shiver even without moving. You take your time and he just waits, patiently until you get used to the sensation. After a couple of seconds, you feel confident enough to move.

“Ready?”

“Yes.” There’s a bit of hesitation in his voice, but you don’t notice it because you are lost in the feeling of finally being so full. All of your senses are overwhelmed by it.

You aren’t sure if it’s going to hurt because he’s definitely the biggest you have ever had. So you move your hips slowly and test the waters. There’s something there. Some kind of discomfort. You can’t say you feel uncomfortable, you just need to get used to his size. So you keep moving because there’s this promise of pleasure hidden behind that discomfort. You can nearly taste it and it keeps you going. While trying to figure out the best way to move, you don’t realize Bucky is watching you, carefully. He’s trying to read your expression and see if you are okay. He’s ready to take up the reins or just stop if that’s what you need. His hands gently roam your body, discovering little details about your skin. Like how many moles you actually have.

“No rush. Take your time.” He sounds more like himself, much more confident than before.

You moan because of his words. His voice is deeper and it makes your blood rush. You start to move a little faster and notice how the discomfort slowly fades away. He notices that, too while grabbing your tits with both of his hands. One is colder than the other, and the contrast is dizzying. You lean into him, just to feel him a little bit more, and his grip on your tits tightens.

“God, so fucking pretty!”

Before you can say anything, his mouth is on your right nipple. You feel his tongue flicking over and over again while his other hand rests on the other breast. Then he sucks your nipple into his mouth, letting his teeth graze over it. You grunt because of the mixed sensations. Just when you are about to protest, he lets out your nipple and moves on to the other one. He gives it the same treatment. A mix of licking, sucking, and biting until you can’t contain your movements. Your hips start to move so much faster, making both of you moan loudly.

“God, I wanted to do this for ages!” The words spill out from your lips without much of a thought.

“You did?” He doesn’t miss a beat.

“Yeah.” There’s no point in hiding it anymore, is there?

“Does this mean I am the daddy?”

His question catches you off guard, and you just freeze in the middle of the action.

“You… heard me.” It comes out more like a question rather than a statement.

“Why do you think I was masturbating?”

It takes you a couple of seconds to process what he's just said. He actually heard you. You never used his name, but it doesn’t change the fact that he witnessed something so private. Something you really wanted to hide from him, yet the idea of him hearing you also sets you on fire. Instead of submitting to the urge to get all shy, you decide to ask him what you actually want to know.

“You heard me and instead of making a move, you decided to fuck your fist?”

“What was I supposed to do? Knock on your door and ask if I can replace your dildo?”

“Yeah. Sounds great to me.” You keep moving your hips fast while talking. “Or maybe you are too shy to take what you really want.”

“Shy?” He blinks a couple of times.

“You don’t seem shy but maybe you are. Maybe you are a submissive little boy who wants to just lay here and take whatever I give you.”

You watch his expression change into something so different. It’s not particularly dark, but it feels like it. Before you can say anything else, he just flips you over. Your mouth falls open when your back touches the bed. Instinctively, you try to wrap your legs around his torso, but he doesn’t let you. Instead, he pushes your knees back to your chest.

“What are you doing?” Your amazement is evident in your voice.

“Taking what I really want.” It takes a lot of effort to hide your smile. You can’t believe your taunting worked that quickly. “Tell me if it gets too much and I will stop.”

“Oh, I doubt that.”

He waits for you to finish talking and then he starts to move. Your mouth falls open once again but this time, it’s not because you are surprised. It’s because you can’t believe how good it feels. It’s completely different than how it felt when you were on his lap. He reaches deeper inside you in this position, and his hands are still on your legs, pushing you further into the bed. You let out another sinful moan.

“Way better than I imagined.”

“Is it?” A smile lingers on his lips. “Feel free to be as loud as you want.”

“Do you want us to get kicked out of this apartment?” It takes every ounce of strength in you to form this sentence without stuttering. It’s so hard to talk like you aren’t getting railed.

“No, I just wanna hear you call me daddy.”

You can’t help but moan. Shit, he really heard everything. You feel so exposed, but somehow it doesn’t bother you. Is he actually into this? Who could’ve guessed?

“If you want that, you gotta work harder than this.”

“Ask for it.”

“Harder, please.” He waits for daddy to come out of your mouth, but it doesn’t. You really meant what you just said, he needs to earn it.

So that’s exactly what he does. He starts to pound you, just the way you fantasized. He manages to touch every part inside you and fills up in a way that makes you wanna cry. Your moans get louder with each thrust.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” Your ears start to buzz. You can feel that your orgasm is close.

“Talk to me, doll.”

He wants to hear you, and you don’t feel like holding back anymore.

“I’m-I’m so close, Bucky.”

“What do you need?” His question is instant. You feel that he’s ready to do whatever you want.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” You take a deep breath just to be able to keep talking. “Just keep going. Please…” Your voice comes out so pathetic, but you can’t brush off the urge to beg him. He would like that, wouldn’t he? You did it while masturbating and he got a hard-on just because of you. “Please, please, please.”

Your words make him groan like he is struggling to contain his excitement.

“I really need it, daddy, please…”

“Fuck, baby.” You feel him losing control. His thrusts are sloppier but he notices that, too. His metal arm moves on your chest and rests there. You don’t know if he’s trying to keep you still or ground himself. Then he looks directly into your eyes, trying to see if that makes you uncomfortable or not. It definitely doesn’t. Quite the opposite, you need his hand on your neck, and you gently grab his metal hand and move it on your neck without breaking eye contact. You watch his eyes widen with the realization.

“Are you sure?” You nod in response, but it’s not good enough for him. “Words, baby. I need actual words.”

“Please.”

That does it. His fingers tighten around your neck, pressing right against your veins, careful not to crush your windpipe.

“Yess.” Your head is thrown back. This is exactly what you wanted.

The way he’s choking you snaps something inside you. It intensifies everything you are feeling at that moment. Your whole body suddenly starts to shake, and it surprises you. You have never reached an orgasm this quickly before.

“Yes, yes, yes. Oh god, yes!” Your voice comes out hoarser than usual.

“Look at you.” He taps his fingers on your neck while he keeps moving. “My pretty baby. So good for me.”

You only moan in response, already too lost in the waves of your orgasm. It’s running through your whole body like electricity.

“Look at me! Look into my eyes.” He sounds so commanding and you listen to him even though it’s so hard to do it. He looks like he’s about to lose it, too.

“Come with me. P-please.”

“You want me to come, baby?” He asks in a way that makes you wanna cry out even more. Like he won’t come if that’s what you want. He will keep holding back until you say so but you don’t want that. You want him to enjoy this as much as you do.

“Please, daddy. Come with me.” He groans in response. You clearly see how your words affect him, especially calling him daddy. You can’t believe how much he’s into it.

He stops holding back and starts to move in a way that makes you scream. So you do that. You can’t contain the noises you make when he moves like this. You grip on his sheets, letting him ruin you for any other man.

“Fuck! Such pretty sounds… You like it that much, baby?”

“Yes, yes. So good, daddy.” You slur at the last part. You don’t care. You don’t care about anything when he makes you feel like this.

“Fuck, you take me so well.” You can actually hear that he’s close. “I-I’m gonna come, oh fuck.”

“Yess!” You have been waiting for this. You want it so badly. You wanna see him come. You want him to feel good, all because of you. You want to witness a part of him that he hides away from everyone else. It feels like owning a part of him. So private and primitive, but you don’t care. You need this.

He lets out the most guttural moan right before starting to come inside you. He doesn’t stop, just keeps the same pace, emptying himself inside you.

“Take it, baby. Take it! It’s all yours.” You know what he’s talking about. His come is already dripping out, yet he’s not done coming.

It looks like he lost his damn mind, but it’s the hottest thing you have ever witnessed in your life. You are so fascinated by him even though you are still coming yourself. That's why you force yourself to keep your eyes open and watch him while your high slowly fades away. Yet he keeps going. His hands are gripping on your tights, pulling you into him every time he moves. His come is dripping on your ass, to the sheets. It’s so messy but feels out of this world.

After a couple more thrusts, he collapses on top of you. His head rests on the crook of your neck, and you feel his heavy breathing on your skin. You don’t mind it, though. He doesn’t let his whole weight crush you. Always so thoughtful….

Your hands go to his hair, gently stroking it. That makes him move his head and look at you.

“We should’ve done this before.” That makes you wanna laugh, but instead, you just give him a huge smile.

“Yes, we should have. It was amazing.”

Suddenly he moves away from you, leaving you completely empty. It makes you whine instantly. You miss the fullness and the warmth of his cock already.

“Where are you going?” You give him a confused look while raising yourself on the bed. “Come back here.”

“Not was.” He kneels right next to the bed, in between your legs, and moves his head closer to your dripping core. “I’m not done with you, baby.”

[stevie-petey]

moron

I own you.  The words practically drip from your rose coated lips, meant only for Steve, and he knows he’s lost.  “Yeah, whatever.” And it’s agreed. Come this Saturday, you and Steve will be working together. No one else, just the two of you, for eight long, maddening hours. 

Summary: steve really hates his coworker, but you know who he hates even more ? your shitty ex boyfriend (who he just so happens to share jacket preferences with)

Rating: general, violence, lots of swearing

Warnings: allusions to abuse, use of bitch as derogatory language towards women, shitty ex boyfriend, violence, enemies to lovers (more friends), fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 3.9k

Before you swing in: hey gang !! long time no stevie blurb, so here yall go <3 please, read the warnings for this one. theres a really shitty character in this and he may be triggering, so please be safe.

-

Steve doesn’t consider himself a bad guy.

Sure, he had the whole “King Steve” stint back in high school where he was an asshole to everyone, but he chooses to ignore those four years of his life. They were a brief lapse of judgment. 

A very long, brief lapse of judgment. But whatever.

The point is that Steve opens the door for strangers. He greets everyone with a smile and a polite nod of his head. When Robin forgets her lunch at work, Steve always gives her his. He walks his neighbor’s dog, he offers to carry groceries for the elderly. Hell, he even waves at babies. 

By all accounts, Steve would consider himself a goddamn saint. 

Except when it comes to you. 

Steve isn’t holding open any fucking doors for you and if you ever asked him to walk your dog, he’d laugh in your face. The moment you stepped foot in Family Video for your first shift, you made Steve’s life a living hell. He doesn’t know why or how you manage to dig so deep under his skin, but he’s convinced you do it on purpose. 

The movies you stack on the shelf always somehow manage to land on Steve’s head. The jokes you make with Robin are always at his expense. You never clock in on time, extending his shift by one more minute every goddamn time. The way you laugh pierces Steve’s skull, the sound rings in his ears and blinds his senses long enough to feel nauseous. 

Steve likes everyone, he isn’t a hard guy to please, but he truly, deeply, hates you. 

“Y/N wanted me to ask if you’d cover her shift this weekend,” Robin scans a beat up copy of Grease, trying to feign indifference as she brings the topic up. She absolutely doesn’t want to be doing this, she knows that any mention of you to Steve makes his eye twitch, but you called her crying and Robin is far too sympathetic for her own good. 

Predictably, Steve’s eye twitches and he snatches the movie from his coworker. “What, did she fall and hit her head this morning?” He scoffs, he can’t believe you even thought he’d consider the idea. “She knows I’d rather her show up with a broken arm and matching black eye to work before ever covering her shift.”

“Okay, that’s psychotically cruel. You know that, right?” Robin scans another movie and shakes her head. Steve hates you, she gets that, and while she doesn’t understand why, she also doesn’t like how much of an asshole he is about it. You’re her friend, too. Robin really likes you. 

“Good, I meant for it to be.”

“Steve, she’s going through a hard time right now–”

“No, I don’t wanna hear it, alright? I don’t care if her grandma died and left her an orphan,” the sound of the bell above Family Video’s front door rings, but Steve is too lost in his rant to hear it. “There’s no way in hell I’m ever, ever helping that demonic witch of a human being.”

Robin’s eyes widen and she tries to cover the teen’s mouth, hissing his name, but Steve bats her hand away and keeps going. “Y/N is a fucking moron for thinking otherwise, and that’s her problem. I mean, I know she’s your friend, which I still don’t know how she even managed to do that, but–”

“Steve!” Again Robin tries to get her friend to stop talking, but Steve is on a roll now. He’s fired up, tired of biting his tongue for the last six months. 

“She makes me want to physically tear my skin off and shove it down my throat every time she opens her mouth. And I’m being nice right now. I mean, I will gladly say this all to her tiny, annoying face–”

“Oh, you would?”

Immediately Steve’s voice dies and his words fall down upon his shoulders. He doesn’t dare turn around. He’s frozen. He’s convinced himself that if he doesn’t move then he can linger in the remaining few seconds where he hasn’t just said all those horrendous things with you standing right behind him. 

Robin drops her head onto the counter and groans. “You’re an idiot, Harrington.”

“Well, are you going to turn around?” Your breath almost fans Steve’s neck, you’ve walked up to him. He can practically envision the curl in your eyebrows whenever you get angry. An expression Steve has become familiar with. 

He gulps, still refusing to turn around. “You know, I really don’t think I can turn around.” His legs shake. Steve doesn’t think he’s ever fucked up this horribly before, and he’s fucked up a lot in his life. 

“Robin,” you turn your attention to her, the edge in your voice is the only indication of your anger. “Please inform our coworker that it’s inappropriate to use that language in a workplace, and please also inform him that I will no longer be needing him to cover my shift.”

“You… Don’t?” Robin looks between you and Steve. He still hasn’t looked at you yet, his face stares straight as if he’s trying to somehow disintegrate. You, however, face her with a steely look in your eyes, which surprises her. She thought there’d be more heartbreak in them. “I-I mean, are you sure? All things considered…”

“I’m fine.” The way you say it leaves no room for arguments. It’s already been decided, and Robin knows not to try and reason with you. She deflates, and you’re pleased with this. Even though her sympathy is unneeded, you can use it to your advantage. You’re going to make Steve pay. “In fact, I think you should inform our coworker that he’s covering your shift this weekend.”

Robin chokes on her spit, startled, while Steve finally turns to face you. “I’m sorry?”

“Aw, it’s okay, Harrington.” You pat his chest, albeit with more force than probably necessary, which he huffs at. “But I think the apology will work even better after spending some quality time together.”

You’re going to spend the entire eight hour shift making Steve’s life hell on earth. And he knows it.

“But–” 

“Say, Robin. What’s the company policy on harassment of employees?” You tap your finger against your chin with a menacing smile on your face. You’re enjoying this, and Steve hates you even more for that. “Doesn’t it say something about verbal insults?”

Steve sends the girl a pleading glance, begging her not to respond, but she can only shake her head at him. He’s the one who couldn’t keep his goddamn mouth shut. Sighing, Robin nods. “Yeah, it does.”

“I thought it did! Thanks, Buckley.” You wink at her before facing Steve again. He almost flinches at the coldness in your eyes. He’s so, so fucked. “Harrington, I’m sure you simply forgot, and I’m sure I can let bygones be bygones after you cover our dear friend’s shift. Yeah?”

I own you. 

The words practically drip from your rose coated lips, meant only for Steve, and he knows he’s lost. 

“Yeah, whatever.”

And it’s agreed. Come this Saturday, you and Steve will be working together. No one else, just the two of you, for eight long, maddening hours. 

–

When Steve arrives at work Saturday, you’ve already clocked in. 

He finds you sitting at the cash register, looking over the shipment for tomorrow. Sundays are the restock days, and the lists of orders are a pain in the ass to get through. It can take hours, sometimes even days, to comb through. When you see Steve walk in, you give him an icy smile. “Oh, perfect timing!” 

“We’re supposed to get here at eight.”

“And being early never hurt anyone.” Although you’re never early, you’re always late, and both of you know this. You scratch something off from the list, eyes never leaving Steve, and he can’t help but feel that the rough scratch of the pen is meant to symbolize his face. 

“What do you want?” Steve is too tired to play your games. He recognizes that he was a grade A asshole to you a few days ago, but this is going too far. 

You flick your hair behind your shoulder and straighten your posture. The gesture casts a cloud of a sickly sweet pomegranate scent over to Steve, causing him to sneeze violently. He’s always hated the perfume you wear. Smiling at the desired effect, you finally shove the restock lists towards him. “I need you to start sorting through next week’s orders.”

Steve looks at the lists and nearly cries. There’s at least thirty pages in the stack, doubled sided, with five columns and fifty rows. This is the largest shipment order he’s ever seen since working at Family Video, he can’t even believe it’s real.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Nope!” You hop down from the counter and walk over to the cart of returned movies. “Now, I’d get started if I were you. You know how much Keith hates it when we don’t get Sunday’s orders in on time.”

Your figure disappears behind a shelf of movies and Steve pretends to strangle you with his bare hands. You planned this. He doesn’t know how, but you did. If he didn’t have a reason to hate you so much, now he does. 

Hours pass by, you don’t at all speak to Steve as he labors over the shipments. Family Video requires the employees to manually input all the orders into the computer to send to the supply chain. The process alone is impractical and takes longer than it should, but pair that with the shitty computers that Keith refuses to upgrade, it makes Steve contemplate running into the road. The browser crashes three separate times. At one point he loses track of which movie he’d been on and has to restart an entire row at number forty-three.

It’s the worst fucking five hours of Steve’s entire life.

Meanwhile, all you do those five hours is browse through some online catalog on the other computer and help a total of two customers who come in. 

By the time Steve has finally finished inputting everything, words float around his vision and he can feel the beginning stages of a headache forming. The pressure sits right behind his left eye, dull and throbbing. 

All because he couldn’t keep his goddamn mouth shut.

Steve should really learn to listen to Robin. 

“Are you all done?” You materialize next to Steve, startling him and he lets out an embarrassing shriek, which you snicker at. “Wow, Harrington. You’re really tense today.”

He rolls his eyes and steps away from you. “Gee, I wonder why.”

“Yeah, who knows!” Steve glares at you and you smile right back at him. “Anyways, since you finished up so fast, why don’t you sort through the backorders next? It shouldn’t take you that long.”

The backorders. 

Steve wants to fucking scream.

The backorders are all the movies that the store can’t input into the system. They’re orders that get messed up, misplaced, and abandoned in Keith’s disgusting office. The pile of discarded movies has grown so large that it rivals Steve’s height and build. It’s its own entity at this point. A terrifying, breakdown inducing entity. 

You’re a fucking evil genius. 

But if Steve even looks at the backorders, he thinks he might actually murder you. 

“No,” he crosses his arms, trying to look more dignified and intimidating than he really feels. Awkwardly placing his weight on his left foot, he purposely ducks his head down to emphasize how much taller he is than you. “No way in hell am I going through the backorders.”

“I wonder what Keith would say when I tell him all the wonderful things you said about me on Wednesday,” you step forward, angling your head up to get a better look at Steve. You want him to see all the hatred you have for him in your eyes. 

What he said about you hurt. There’s no other way to put it. His words had been venom upon your skin, searing the flesh as it left a nasty scar. The wound has festered ever since, making your already shitty week even worse. 

Steve had called you “fucking moron”. Just like he had. 

“Oh, screw company policy and whatever that asshole Keith says!” Steve doesn’t care anymore if he has a job by the end of today. He’s had enough of your shitty mind games and power plays. He may have been a dick, but he doesn’t deserve any of this, either. The strenuous labor and migraines. “I’m done, alright? You’re being such a–”

“Bitch?” A gruff voice chuckles, interrupting. Steve, surprised to hear another male voice in the store, quickly turns around. 

The guy is tall, taller than Steve. That’s the first thing he notices. Then he notices the cold blue of his eyes and the way your entire body freezes in fear when you see him. Steve moves your body behind his, unconsciously putting you out of harm’s way, protecting you from whoever the hell this guy is in front of him. It’s instinctual, he doesn’t hesitate.

Who the fuck does this guy think he is, calling you a bitch?

“I would never call her that,” Steve squares his shoulders, putting ice into his words as he does so. He wouldn’t. He was going to call you a child. Steve would never call a woman a bitch, his mother raised him better than that and Robin would hit him if he ever did.

The guy laughs again. “You sure about that, buddy?”

“Jack,” Steve almost doesn’t hear you, you’re barely audible. He’s never heard your voice so soft before, so weak and scared; he decides he never, ever wants to be the cause of this voice. “You can’t be here.”

“Says who? I don’t see anybody kickin’ me out.” The guy, Jack, shrugs indifferently. He stuffs his hands into his jacket, it’s made of a nice, suede material that Steve is ashamed to admit he’d wear himself. “I wanted to see you, sweetheart.”

Jack tries to step closer to you, but Steve blocks him. “Funny, I thought she was a bitch?”

“Bitch, sweetheart, easy fuck, fucking moron.” Jack laughs, only this time it’s cruel. “It’s all the same when it comes to Y/N.”

Fucking moron.

Steve had said the same about you. A heavy weight of shame crushes his chest. He should’ve never called you such a cruel name. He knows that, now. 

“Don’t fucking talk about her like that,” Steve sneers, hand now coming around your arm as if terrified Jack will pull you away from him. “What the hell is your problem, man?”

“Why don’t you mind your own business? This is a conversation between me and the sweetheart over here.” Jack tries to reach for you again, but Steve shoves the guy away. He stumbles back, a wicked smile on his face. “Oh, the pretty boy can fight?”

“Steve,” You finally speak again, trying to shove yourself between the two men. The room grows hot and you don’t want anyone getting hurt. Not here, not with Steve. “Just leave it alone, walk away–”

Only Jack grabs your arm and viciously pulls, causing a pained yelp to escape you. A nerve pinches in your shoulder, he sends your body flying forward. His grip is harsh, it will leave bruises tomorrow, and you’re weak against him. Fear chokes you, he always does this.

“Don’t touch her.” Steve’s fist collides with Jack’s face, starbursts of pain explode in his wrist but he doesn’t care. All he sees is red now. Jack hurt you. He caused you to cry out in pain. Steve punches him again, the sound of pain you made rings in his ears, turns his blood cold and his anger boiling hot. 

Jack recovers from the punches quickly and he raises his fist, but you try to get him away from Steve. “Stop!” 

The fist comes down, you brace for impact, helpless against it, but the sound of skin hitting skin is all you’re met with. You open your eyes, Jack’s fist is in Steve’s palm. Stunned, Jack is too slow to pull away before Steve wraps his arm around his and twists it behind his back. The muscles strain, the ligament cries in pain as Jack’s arm is pulled dangerously far back. 

“Fuck!” Jack screams, contorting his body desperately to get out of the death lock he’s in. 

“You’re going to leave,” Steve hisses into his ear, “and you’re going to never, ever come back. If you even look at Y/N again I swear,” he mercilessly pulls even harder on Jack’s arm, the bone threatens to snap, but he doesn’t care. “I will break every bone in your fucking body.”

And with that, Steve finally releases Jack, who crashes pathetically to the ground. The moment he’s freed, he scrambles to his feet and cradles his sprained arm. He’s panting, no longer the confident and arrogant asshole he once was when he walked into Family Video ten minutes prior.

“Fuck you,” Jack spits out at Steve, but he’s already walking backwards towards the door to leave. “That bitch isn’t worth it, anyways.”

The door slams closed. 

Silence fills the void that the violence left behind. 

Steve shakes out his wrist, wringing out the pain from the punches. His knuckles are red, raw, bruising with every passing second. He brings the injured hand closer to inspect it, wincing at the inflamed skin. 

“You’re hurt.”

Your eyes linger on the blood that leaks from his knuckles. The skin has split, but the pain that the nerve endings scream over soothes Steve. He shakes his hand out again as he shakes his head at you. “I’m fine.”

But you don’t believe him.

Carefully, slowly, you bring your uninjured hand over Steve’s injured one. Your touch is gentle, hesitant. The pads of your fingers skim over the bruising that litters Steve’s skin. “I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, no.” Steve pulls his hand away, he doesn’t like what the image of his injury is doing to you. He’s not used to your tenderness, the sympathy you blanket him with. Besides, he isn’t the only one who got hurt. Steve instead brings your hand up, holding your wrist delicately as he sucks in a breath seeing the bruises Jack left. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”

You don’t say anything. 

Steve kisses the damaged skin, he feels you shiver beneath his lips. He isn’t sure why he does it, he just knows that he wishes he could physically remove the burn of the bruises from your memory. 

Minutes pass, the silence is all that is spoken. 

Eventually the two of you get back to work. There’s still two more hours before either of you can leave, even if the thought of staying in the store suffocates you. No other customers come in. It’s just you and Steve, matching bruises to keep you guys company. 

When four in the afternoon comes along, Steve clocks both of you out and locks the store up. He doesn’t let you do a single thing. He insists on having you sit by the window as he finishes the last restock orders and closes the door. His hand softly guides you outside, lingering on your waist as he locks the store’s doors for the night. 

“Alright, well…” Steve clears his throat. He doesn’t know what else to say to you. “Guess I’ll just, you know, leave–”

“Please don’t leave me alone.”

His breath catches. You stare up at him, eyes wide with fear and vulnerability and despair. “I…”

“Please,” you can’t walk home alone. Not tonight. Not after everything that happened today. “I just…”

Without saying anything, Steve’s hand finds yours, and he walks you to his car. He opens the door for you, closes it softly behind you once you get in. He gets into his own seat, turns the radio on and fiddles with the stations until he finds the one he knows you like. Every time you have a shift together, you play the same station and sing along to all your favorite songs.

It used to drive Steve insane.

Now he’s relieved he can do this one thing for you.

The drive is quiet. The only conversation that is made is mumbled directions to your house. It isn’t a far drive, but Steve takes his time anyways. He doesn’t know if you have anyone to go home to, he knows you haven’t stopped shaking quite yet. 

“Turn here,” your voice is hoarse from lack of use.

Steve listens, turns into a neighborhood he’s unfamiliar with. He thinks he’s nearing your home and he isn’t ready to let you go just yet. He knows you have to talk about what happened today. The bruises on his knuckles will fade, but the memory of Jack’s cruel words won’t. 

“So,” He clears his throat. He’s doing the right thing, he knows he is. “Jack. He was…?”

You’re quiet for several moments and Steve is afraid he’s ruined everything, pushed you too far, but eventually you respond. “Ex boyfriend. Broke up a week ago. He didn’t take it well.”

“I hate him.”

Despite the fatigue that weighs upon you and the dread that Jack will come back, you can’t help but laugh at what Steve has said. “Yeah, I guess I do, too.”

Silence falls again. Steve pulls into your driveway, he turns the car off, the headlights die, but neither one of you move. 

“You’re not, you know.”

You finally face Steve, confused as to what he’s referencing. “What?”

“You’re not a ‘fucking moron’. And you’re definitely not a bitch.” He clarifies, eyes meeting yours. You’re almost breathless by how brightly they shine with remorse. You’ve never known a man who felt such an emotion. “Jack is a dick, and so was I.”

“Steve…”

He doesn’t let you pity him. He knows what he did was wrong, the words that fell from his mouth about you will haunt him forever. Steve may not have liked you, but he didn’t have any right to say those things about you. “I really am sorry, Y/N.” 

There’s nothing to forgive.

Steve isn’t Jack. You know that, now. 

“It’s okay. I think I made you go through enough today, anyways.” You nudge his shoulder with yours, risking physical affection just this once. “First the restock orders and then defending my honor? I think we’re even.”

“I was pretty heroic, wasn’t I?” Steve tries to laugh, play along, but it’s bitter on his tongue. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive himself for how much he hurt you. 

Noticing his darkened expression, you poke Steve’s cheek. “Hey, you’re not allowed to brood. I’m the one whose crazy ex showed up at work today.” But it doesn’t work, he doesn’t laugh and you know he blames himself for everything. “Look at me, Steve.”

Night has fallen and the honey brown in Steve’s eyes resembles darkened ash. You place your hand on his, careful not to disturb his bruises. “I forgive you, but if you insist on being such an annoying jerk about it, then you can make it up to me by being my friend.”

“Your friend?” Steve doesn’t pull his hand away from yours, and it’s a start. 

“Yup, think you can handle that?” 

“‘Friends’,” he lets the word roll over his tongue. Tests it out, gets a feel for what it would be like to call you his friend. He thinks he likes the way it feels, the weight that accompanies it is one that settles his chest, soothes his wounds. “I guess I can be okay with that.”

He smiles at you, then, and you smile back.

You’re beautiful when you smile; warm, angelic.  

Steve doesn’t consider himself a bad guy, but by all accounts, he considers you a goddamn saint. 

-

⌑ writing masterlist

⌑ please feel free to like, reblog, and comment. i adore hearing from you guys :)

[moonydustx]

how they would react to F!Reader saying she's pregnant but with Shanks, Rayleigh and Law?

Oi oi! Turu bem? Vou deixar até o comecinho da resposta em português porque sim hahahahah primeiro, obrigada pelo pedido e segundo, eu acho que me empolguei escrevendo de novo, sou inimiga do resumo. O do Ray acho que pode ter ficado um pouco confuso porque tentei usar as duas eras (como pode ele ser tãão saborosíssimo toda vez que aparece, af). Mas é isso, obrigadão e espero que goste <3

And here’s the translation of the day: Hey Hey! How are you? I'll even leave the beginning of the answer in portuguese because yes hahahahah (for those who don't understand PT-BR, I discovered that the requester is brazilian like me) firstly, thank you for the request and secondly, I think I got carried away writing again. I think Ray's might have been a little confusing because I tried to use both eras (how can he be so delicious every time he appears, haha). But that's it, thank you and I hope you like it <3

Oh, and hello @badlandsx! I'm tagging you here because I saw your request about Law, but don't worry, I'll soon write the other part that you also requested. Thank you <3

requests open | one piece masterlist (other pregnancy stories are here)

Warnings are place individually in each story.

Rayleigh

Warnings: mentions of new and old Ray, like I said I love them both. Buggy and Shanks kids are one of my favorite things about Roger's era, so we have them here. Mention to F!Reader being an herbalist. Brief not-so-canonical mention of Sabaody's arc.

Acid temperament, answers on the tip of the tongue, a captivating smile. Rayleigh didn't have much of an option but to fall in love at first sight when you two bumped into each other in a random bar on a random island. It didn't matter anymore when he managed to convince you to be part of the crew. Your knowledge of herbs and medicines was just an excuse he used to get the captain to accept - and Roger knew Silvers Rayleigh enough to know it was just a pretext for you to get on board.

It didn't take long for the glances exchanged and toasts proposed to turn into hidden moments at Oro Jackson, kisses stolen when others weren't looking, that turned into a golden ring around your finger. Now, such moments had turned into a new life being generated in you.

"You should stay less agitated for now, please." Crocus asked. You had come up with a lame excuse for him to stay on the ship with you while the others had disembarked. "By my reckoning, these are still the first few months, it's the most sensitive period. Any more aggressive activity can bring risks."

"You will die?" Buggy's squeaky voice caught the two of you's attention. When you found the spot where the boy was hiding, you saw Shanks cover his companion's mouth.

"Nothing like that, come here." you leaned on the counter, calling out to the two who soon stopped in front of you. "How much of our conversation did you hear?"

"That you don't really know what to do, and that you need to be less agitated and that you're sensitive." Shanks took the lead, listing, Buggy came further behind, eyes attentive to your every movement.

The two boys already saw you almost as a motherly figure, always trying to hide and lean on you whenever they got into trouble, of course they would be scared to hear such loose information.

"I'll trust you two, but I want you both to keep your mouth shut." you bent down to his level. "I'm pregnant, but it's too early for anyone to know, okay?"

"Pregnant?" they both screamed and you covered their mouths. Further behind you, Crocus was deliberately laughing at the two boys' reactions. "Does that mean it's the baby that's hurting you?" Buggy completed.

"No one was hurt." the doctor took the lead, explaining to both of them. "A pregnant woman requires more care and is also more sensitive. Well, you knowing this can be of great help."

"What do you mean by that?" Just like you, the boys seemed to have doubt written all over their faces.

"Someone here loves to get into trouble, until Rayleigh finds out and can keep an eye on you, you two are responsible for it. No fights, no crazy adventures, no almost anything." the man laughed when he saw your indignant expression.

"I promise to keep her and the baby safe." Shanks puffed out his chest, taking pride in what he had said.

"What? I promise more than him." Buggy grumbled.

"As long as you both promise to keep quiet, that's fine with me."

When the two youngest saluted, you knew you were screwed.

It was difficult to disguise such a situation when in the following days the two of them became your shadow. The only time you could see yourself alone was going to the bathroom. If you went to your little corner to work, one of the two would be sitting next to you, following everything you explained to them - since they were there, they would learn something. In day-to-day tasks, one of them always set out to do his part. Rayleigh was already finding their little movement strange, but he knew how attached you were to both of them, so it wasn't something that bothered him.

"I'm going to take advantage of the fact that it's our last day here and I'm going to go down to the village, I need to get some materials." you announced. "Does anyone need anything?"

"Everything's fine here." Gaban warned and one by one, the other companions agreed.

"Wait!" a panting Buggy ran across the boat. "I'll go with you."

"Get out you fool, I'll go." Shanks shouted from the other side.

"Come on, the three of you, what do you think?" you suggested, before his little fight escalated.

"You two don't think you're stealing much of my wife's attention, do you?" Rayleigh proposed, seeing the two swallow hard and deny it. "Alright, enjoy the little walk."

It was supposed to be a quick visit to the island, if the boys didn't decide to start trouble with one of the sellers, you got in the middle and now you were lying on your ass on the floor - in the pushing and shoving, there ended up being a push for you while arguing with the seller . Before you could calm the boys down, you saw them running towards the ship, shit.

Rayleigh's attention was stolen when he saw the two crew members rushing into the Oro Jackson. Buggy burst into tears and insults directed at his friend, while Shanks seemed to be looking for someone specific. You, however, were not with them. It didn't take much to connect the facts.

"Where is she?" He approached the kids, completely ignoring them. "What happened?"

"A tragedy." Buggy, dramatically, started crying even more.

"You idiot! We can't tell them anything." Shanks poked Buggy, who immediately retaliated with a push.

"Crocus said we should keep an eye on her and now she's fallen and is going to die!"

"She fell?" Rayleigh was already impatient with their drama, unable to find any connection in their grumbling. "Explain this properly."

"It was just a fall, nothing big." the redhead tried to alleviate the situation.

"Boys, it was just a fall, she's definitely gotten herself into bigger trouble." Roger laughed, watching the two boys pushing each other.

"I don't want to know. Where's Crocus?" Buggy grumbled, ignoring the captain's own laughter and his friend's false calm temperament.

"What kind of fall was that for you two to be so worried about?" Rayleigh held out his hands, pushing the two boys apart by their foreheads.

"This idiot went looking for a fight." Shanks tried to reach the clown, stopped by the first mate's hand.

"And this idiot who doesn't know how to keep his tongue in his mouth." Buggy fought back, only hitting the air.

"First she said we were supposed to be quiet."

"You knock down a pregnant woman and I'm the one who has to stay quiet!" The words that came out of Buggy were able to provoke silence among the other pirates. "Shit!"

"She's going to kill us man."

"Where is she?" Crocus appeared, stopping in front of the boys and an astonished Rayleigh. "How did she fall? What's all that crying, Buggy?"

"Is she the pregnant woman?" Rayleigh asked in a much calmer tone than usual.

The hands were now no longer used to separate the boys, they just hung beside his body. Seeing the two kids swallow hard and look at each other, Rayleigh no longer needed any more answers.

"Rayleigh, Crocus go to her, now." Even with Roger's orders, Rayleigh was already heading in the direction of leaving the boat, not worrying about who would follow him.

Upon entering the village, it didn't take many steps for them to find you - only then did Rayleigh notice the doctor's presence. What was strange was finding you still lying on the floor, your elbows propped up to keep your face up while you were still arguing with the man in front of you. You didn't look hurt, you just looked mad at the man.

"It was just some herbs!" you shouted, excited.

"You idiot! If it was just some herbs, you should pay." the man shouted back.

Before you could respond, a body appeared in front of you and you didn't need much to recognize that it was your husband.

"What is happening?" his patient voice asked, looking at you over his shoulder. "I see that you seem to have problems with my wife."

"You see, she allowed two boys to steal herbs from my store."

"That is true?" he turned to you, finding a wry smile. Your permissiveness with the boys would still kill him. "How much does she owe you?"

The man spoke and almost as if predicting the problem, Crocus threw some coins to Rayleigh, who handed them to the man. A few seconds later, they were both around you.

"Did you get hurt?" the doctor asked, seeing your eyes dart from his to your husband's. "Buggy accidentally told him that little secret."

"Shit." your grumble was low, in a way you avoided looking at Rayleigh. "Maybe I spent my money buying some sweets for the three of us, but I needed those herbs too." you list, feeling your face burn with guilt and shame.

"Do you feel any pain?" Rayleigh asked, his voice almost forcing you to face him. Without finding words, you just denied it. "Great. Let's go back to the ship."

Crocus supported you by the waist and as soon as you stood up, you bitterly regretted having denied the question your husband had asked. The excruciating pain that shot up from your foot made you scream and fall forward, being held by Rayleigh.

"I was wrong, so wrong, what the hell." you grumbled, taking your aching foot off the ground. "It fucking hurts, it really hurts, Ray, do something." your teary eyes searched for his, who looked attentively in your direction.

"First I need you to calm down, sweetheart." he asked, wrapping his arm around you and providing even more support. "Crocus, what do we have?"

"Let me see." he bent down again, finding a swollen ankle. "It could just be a sprain or it could be broken, let's go back and that way I can see calmly."

"Go ahead, I'll take her."

The doctor took a few steps away and the two of you remained there for a few seconds, until Rayleigh took you in his arms and took you back to the ship. You knew he wanted to tell you something, but you also knew that that wasn't the appropriate place.

Before you could receive the necessary medical attention, you needed to calm both boys down. Maybe the explanation you and Crocus gave the two of them earlier had been too much for them to think that a little fight would bring you down. Rayleigh ushered them both out and closed the door behind him.

"When were you thinking of telling me?" he asked, still distant.

"To be honest, I still don't know." a light laugh escaped your lips. "They both found out by accident, hearing me talk to Crocus."

"I still can't believe those little idiots found out before me." his expression softened as he approached you.

"Are you mad at me?" His hands circled your waist, pulling you to the middle of the bed.

He gently created space for himself between your legs, taking care to place your bandaged ankle to the side. The fierce kisses this time were replaced by some caresses along your lap, some quick kisses on your lips.

"Furious?" His smile floated to your forehead, turning into a small kiss. "I just found out that the woman I love most is about to bear me a child. How can I be furious with such good news?"

His mouth once again met yours and despite the softness in which your tongues tangled, the gentle touch of his hand sliding down your side - curious fingers floating over the fabric on your belly - before your dress found a different path than your body, a small external noise caught the attention of both of you.

"Sure." Rayleigh pulled away just enough, allowing you to still feel his breath against yours. "You know it's Roger who's waiting, don't you?"

"Yeah." you laughed, seeing him groan as he let go of you.

"And that he's about to come out screaming with joy" he asked again and you nodded, trying to adjust yourself in bed and hide any evidence of what was about to happen.

Rayleigh barely opened the wooden door and Roger followed by other companions entered, a smile from ear to ear.

"A child!" He pulled you from the bed, hugging you tightly. "Another crewmate for us! This is incredible, get ready today we're going to drink, we're going to celebrate."

"Oi! She can't drink." Rayleigh pointed out and saw Roger let go of you a little and then hug you tightly again.

"Then let's eat, eat a lot. I'm going to order an incredible feast!"

If before your concern was to escape the needy and attentive claws of Buggy and Shanks, now the two boys seemed to have found company. Your other companions - being practically led by Rayleigh made you feel adorable all the time. Even with your hormones screaming at the top of your skin, even with all the strange desires and the constant need to be attached to your husband, everyone seemed to be ready and happy to see you pregnant. Rayleigh felt proud and a little overprotective of you, no wonder, since you had already returned to the boat covered in blood that didn't belong to you just because someone had tried to rob you or when you almost convinced Roger to loot a village because you wanted cakes from a bakery that was closed when you docked. You still preferred to stick to your herbs, but that didn't mean you were harmless.

Little Arthur came into the world calmly and quickly, as if everything was meticulously planned for him to arrive on that peaceful afternoon. Even though you were still uncomfortable and tired after giving birth, you couldn't contain your laughter when you saw the two youngest members of the crew fighting over who would pick up the little one first. Knowing the affection and care attached to you, you proudly allowed the two of you to carry the title of little Arth's uncles - provoking yet another argument over who was the favorite.

The bonds between you and Rayleigh became even tighter after the birth of Arth and, shortly after, little Dalia. A few years after the gang broke up and Roger was executed and on that day, you and your husband stepped back from the role of parents and allowed yourselves to cry on each other's shoulders. The tears of pain at the loss of Roger soon turned to missing your eldest son, a fruit doesn't fall far from the tree and of course, Arth never let you two tell him everything you knew, he would find a crew so that together they could find the One Piece.

The door to your house opened and you saw a familiar face enter. A mother knows very well what each child's traits could bring and when you saw an almost identical copy of Rayleigh rush through the door, you knew it was your boy back. He had finally found a crew - one that carried a straw hat familiar to the one you knew.

"What?" the voice of his companions shouted in unison as Rayleigh properly introduced the two of you.

"You mean you know everything?" Usopp turned to Arth, who just shook his head. "Oh, that's a lot of information at once."

"We never told him anything." you explained, holding your third child in your arms, a girl who had just turned four years old.

"You said your parents were pirates, but you never specified which ones." Luffy pointed out, his mouth full of food.

"My parents already had their time, now they have other priorities." Arth took little Lure from you, the girl's laugh echoed throughout the room. "Just like this little one here."

"You only have these two children?" Nami asked, interested in the difference between you and Rayleigh to the white-haired child.

"In fact, only Dalia and Arth were born to me. Ray saved our little Lure from being sold to those damn nobles. Unfortunately, we didn't have time to save her family, but we took it upon ourselves to take care of her."

"And Dalia is also a pirate?"

"Not for now, but she's on an island with some of our friends, training." you simply informed, seeing that Arth had understood the message.

That same day, you saw your son disappear before your eyes, into the hands of the tyrant Kuma. Luffy looked desolate and you followed suit, both screams echoing through the damp Sabaody forest. Only when Rayleigh managed to drag you back home did you understand that your boy would be far away, safer and according to Kuma himself, with someone you both would trust with your eyes closed.

Almost two years have passed since Rayleigh took on a mission and left you alone on the island, taking care of what was left behind.

"Father?" Lure's voice caught your attention. At the door, Rayleigh crouched down, waiting for the white-haired girl to jump towards him.

"My sweetie you are so huge!" he let the girl hang onto him, filling the top of her head with kisses. "If I took a little longer, you'd be bigger than me."

"I missed you so much." she clung to Rayleigh, who was walking towards you. "Mommy too."

"I bet she felt it too." With one of his free hands, he circled your waist, lightly kissing your lips. "I hope two of my favorite girls are okay."

"Dad, did you know that Uncle Duval asked Mom to stay with him?" The girl laughed at the little gossip told, earning a reprimanding look from you, even if it was a joke.

"Uncle Duval, hm? I'll have a little talk with him." Rayleigh placed her on the floor, yet the girl remained there beside you, paying attention to everything.

"Just a friend of the Straw Hats, we took care of Sunny while you were gone. I even tried to start the plating, but I'd rather focus on my teas." You explained, allowing yourself to hug him completely. "How are things over there?"

"By things, do you talk about our Dalia?"

"Perhaps." the passive tone in your voice became even calmer when your face was buried in his chest. "I miss my little girl."

"She promised to come soon and she's doing great, she's been one of Kikyo's right-hand men. She's so strong, you'll be proud." he felt you nod against his skin, the distance of two years seemed too far for a quick hug to satisfy. "Want to know about Arth?"

"Have you heard from him?"

"Is little brother Arth coming?" Lure clung to Rayleigh's leg, watching her father. Even without the blood connection, the black king found it comical to say the least how similar you two had become.

"Not yet, my dear. And I haven't heard from him exactly, but rather where he is." Rayleigh began to explain, meeting your curious eyes. "I only received a small note."

He took it out and handed you the small crumpled paper. The tranquility that had been missing for two years invaded you as you read each word.

I hope this reaches you and your wife, Rayleigh-san. Knowing her, I believe she is distraught over Arth's disappearance. He has been training with me and I promise that I will keep that old promise to keep him safe. No clumsy clowns this time.

Shanks.

Shanks

warnings: F!Reader and Shanks don't have a fixed relationship at the beginning of the story, F!Reader has a restaurant. Maybe wrong use of haki, brief spicier section and brief mentions of childbirth. Shanks is an adorable girl dad here. Emony, in some language that I don't remember, is a name related to treasure.

"When are you going to go to sea with me?"

That question had already been repeated countless times every day that Shanks decided to stop at your restaurant. He always made up a little excuse that his crew was hungry and that no other place in that city would be able to fulfill his orders. He repeated every time you served dishes wearing the apron he said made you look amazing, every time he convinced you to stop working for a bit and share a dish with him, every time he was on top of you. you on the bed, as you asked for more and more.

However, every time the answer was the same.

"Give me a good reason red-haired, one other than me ending up in your bed, and I will."

You had already lost track of the times he did this, that he asked and you refused, that you shared hours together and the next morning he left you to return a few months later. This time however, it was difficult to lose track of time, as with each passing day, you discovered a change in your body. It started with irritability, then the aching body, nausea and finally, the positive test on your hand and your shocked family right behind you.

The whole city already knew that you were the redhead's favorite person and at that point, no one dared to mess with you or insinuate anything. Knowing how quickly rumors could spread, you chose to keep it a secret until it became impossible. The secret only lasted four months before his jolly roger appears on the horizon. Already knowing the routine he used to have on the island, you prepared yourself to soon find him entering the door.

"Finally, my favorite cook." his voice hit you before you even saw him. "Long time no see you."

"Yeah, it's been a while." out of habit, you allowed his hand to hug your waist, but you tried not to tighten yourself too much in his embrace.

"Everything is fine?" he asked, noticing your more distant behavior.

"Yeah, it's just been a busy day. What can I get you guys?"

"What's good on the menu today?" Lucky Roux asked, his typical piece of meat at hand had already reached its end.

"A fish stew, we also have some pies. Did you bring any new recipes for me?" You reached out to him.

Since the first time you met the red-haired pirates, you and him had gotten along well and the little deal was that he would always bring new recipes and in return, he was the only one who didn't pay at your family's restaurant.

"Spicy noodles and oysters with honey." he stretched out the two papers in his hand. "Two recipes, two dishes."

"Okay, you win. Anyone else want some stew?" the men piled in, affirming yes. Before you could leave, you felt Shanks' hand grab yours.

"Wait a second." a chill passed through your body as his eyes analyzed you. "You look different, I don't know. It's like you're even more beautiful."

"Don't give me those cheap lines, redhead." you warned in your playful tone. "A stew for you too?"

"The day I deny this could rip my other arm off."

Like the other times they appeared there, Shanks and the others stayed almost the entire day. Much of the food at that point had already been replaced by drinks, which forced you to practically dodge the glasses that were offered to you.

The restaurant was already empty, even your brothers who used to help you had already left, leaving you alone with the leftover dishes and tables to organize for the next day.

"It doesn't seem very gentlemanly to me to leave a lady alone." Again, just like that afternoon, you saw Shanks enter the door, ignoring the "closed" sign.

"You don't need to worry about me, I'll sort it out in a few minutes." You gave your best smile, seeing that he wasn't convinced.

"Then I can help you solve something else."

Not giving you much room to deny it or to at least try to address the issue that was hovering between the two of you, Shanks revoked his right over your mouth. Amidst the scattered tables and trying to turn off the light in the room so as not to attract so much attention, you went unnoticed by his hands taking off your apron and immediately undoing the buttons on your t-shirt. When the piece became a small puddle of fabric on the floor next to your apron and Shanks slid his hand down your torso, you realized that he had indeed noticed.

"What is that?" his voice was low, even though there were just the two of you there.

"I think you're smarter than that, redhead." you tried to alleviate the situation, seeing that it had been in vain.

"It's mine?" His eyes met yours, his serious expression made chills run up your body. Shanks was adorable, one of the kindest people you'd ever served at your restaurant, but he was still a pirate. "Hey, look at me, is it mine?"

"What do you think?" you responded immediately, seeing him take a few steps back. "I found out a few weeks after you left here last time, so far it's been easy to hide with dresses and aprons, but it looks like it won't last long."

"So it's mine?" he insisted, making you huff in frustration.

"The last time you came here, I remember you making me scream a few times that I was yours. I am a woman of my word, there is no one else who is the father of this baby but you."

His expression soon contorted from something serious to a slight smile that turned into a loud laugh. His hand found your face, stroking it with some delicacy.

"You told me you needed a good reason to leave with me." he started, seeing you already look disbelieved. "And no, I don't want you just in my bed. I want you by my side, forever. I want you to leave with me so I can make you my wife. To make you the mother of all my children." his hand reached down and caressed the bump on your belly. "This explains so much."

"So much, tomato head?" You let your hand rest on top of his, enjoying the affection.

"Your bad mood when you saw my face or you refusing to drink with me." He approached, pressing his face to yours. "You look even more beautiful than the last time I saw you."

"Shanks…"

"Please say yes."

He used that entire night to convince you to go on board with him and the next morning to help you pack your bags and head to his ship. When the other companions saw your face, they were in disbelief for a while until the true reason for your presence was explained, to everyone's delight.

For a moment, it was too much information for your head, learning a little about the life of a pirate, understanding what Shanks was like as a captain and the changes in your body seemed too much for you. It wasn't surprising that you had practically hijacked the ship's kitchen all to yourself and it was very common to find you in the early hours of the morning, up to something.

"What's the recipe for today, mummy?" Shanks appeared, his face still crumpled indicating that he had just woken up from a good sleep.

"A cake, that's all." you just responded, feeling him press himself behind you and slide his hand over your big eight-month-old belly.

"And what's the name of the cake?" He leaned over your shoulder, still caressing you. "Is it "I'm worried about my baby's future." or "The baby woke me up by kicking me in the ribs"?

"How do you know that?" you laughed, taking some of the still raw dough for him to taste.

"Delicious." he muttered before he could follow up on any thoughts. "Daddy's Haki. I always know what's going on with my baby."

"Oh, of course." you laughed and immediately felt the same pain that had gotten you out of bed a few hours ago and had been recurring in the last few moments. You knew what it was, you just wanted to enjoy the time you still had with your baby inside.

"Honey?" Shanks asked as he saw you lean your body against his and groan in pain. "My love, what is it?"

"Didn't daddy's haki help you this time?" you tried to laugh but the pain hit you again. Before you could continue your sequence of laments, you felt your dress and as a result of the proximity, Shanks got wet.

"No, it didn't help, it's happening now, isn't it? Hongo!" he started screaming, trying to pick you up.

"Shanks, what if…" your eyes moistened with anxiety and accumulated tears. "What if I'm a terrible mother? What if nothing works? What if I can't bring our baby into the world?"

"There's no what if." he pointed out, gently pulling your chin. "Look at me, we're going to bring our first child into the world and everything will be fine. Come on, it's time to meet our baby."

Emony was born after long hours of labor. The small tuft of red hair was identical to Shanks's and her cry was celebrated by the entire ship who had woken up with your screams of pain and with Shanks running back and forth behind Hongo.

The girl was a little copy of her father, from her red hair to her attitude, which made you constantly laugh - after all, at the age of five she had already declared that she was going after One Piece alone when you two gave her a little scolding for her coming out of hiding during a fight you were involved in. You should also anticipate that the girl's strength would be derived from her father and not hers. A break on an island meant having the two of you spotted by enemy pirates while you were taking a walk with little Emony. After trying to escape and fight, you both ended up surrendering, you were on your knees, a gun against your head and little Emony was lifted by the collar of her dress.

"My daddy is going to finish you off, your shit" she declared, trying to kick the man, completely in vain.

"Will he really do that?" the man teased her, seeing the girl become even more nervous. "I'll be waiting for."

"You know this is his territory, what do you want on this island?" you asked and felt the gun being pressed even more against your head.

"Take it away from my mommy!!" Emony screamed and you felt something different in the air.

The man who was pointing the gun at you fell, fainted, as did the other men who accompanied the pirate. Their captain let out a loud laugh, pressing his hand even tighter against Emony's dress.

"Haki? At such a young age?"

"Mommy!" the girl jolted towards you, seeing you get up and walk towards her.

"I suggest you take your rotten hands off my daughter." Shanks' voice came from behind the man.

By dodging a little, you can see the crew approaching. Benn was already pointing a gun, almost glued to the head of the tyrant who had his hands on your little Emony.

"This here?" he shook the girl dismissively, turning to face Shanks. "You know, lately the navy has been investing a lot of money in Yonko's children." the man threatened, a stupid smile adorning his lips. "What's your offer for the brat?"

"Lucky, Yassop?" Shanks just signed. "You guys take my girls inside."

Without waiting for the man to respond, the redhead punched him in the face and before Emony could reach the ground, Lucky caught her. The two of you were taken inside a small store, where some vendors offered water and a place to calm down.

"Where are my girls?" Shanks' voice reached the two of you, but your daughter ran to him, hugging her father's legs, who picked her up. "Are you hurt, my little one?"

"No daddy." she smiled, victoriously. "You see, I'm ready to be a pirate." the joy in her voice brought some peace of mind to both of you.

"I thought you were already a pirate." Benn, who accompanied Shanks, commented and got the girl's response by sticking her tongue out at him.

"I'm going to be the greatest pirate! Just like dad." she replied, shaking herself off Shanks' lap. "Come on Uncle Benn, I bet I beat you."

"Bet? Let's see." The first mate let the girl hit him a few times, laughing at her effort.

"And you, love, were you hurt?" Shanks stood next to you, holding your shaking hand.

"I just got scared. Shanks, she…"

"I felt it. That's how I knew she was in danger." he replied before the question even left your thoughts. "She's barely trained and can already do this? She's really going to be a great pirate."

"Babe…" your warning tone made it clear that this was not the time for him to encourage such ideas.

"Imagine, she's a captain? Our daughter has a big future. In fact, we know who she takes after." the man boasted, earning a shove in response. "I think she needs companions."

"She can arrange it over time."

"Or we can help." the mischievous tone was already almost inert to the way he spoke to you. "Just a few more babies, a first mate, a cook." He started to list, seeing you deny it. "But you look so beautiful pregnant."

"Forget it Shanks."

"Daddy, mummy!" Emony's voice drew you both in. You watched the girl pose as victorious, on top of a Benn Beckman, Lucky, Yasopp and Limejuice piled on the floor, pretending to be defeated. "I won!"

"Now I challenge you, my little fire hair." Shanks joined in the game, going over to the girl.

Maybe some brothers for Emony would be nice - and maybe Shanks would have given you a good reason to accompany him every time you saw him love your little daughter.

Law

Part 2 here

warnings: angst, more angst, arguments with a fluff and happy ending. I mean, do I really need to inform you that our boy is going to freak out about the possibility of amber lead in his baby? Perhaps not very common uses of his DF, Law freaks out for a while, but then becomes the best dad in the world (we saw so little of Law with Lammy, but I bet he was an amazing brother and that he would be such a great girl's dad). And of course, Rosi comes from Rosinante. This text here is huge, sorry.

Being subordinate and companion to a captain who happened to be a doctor was one of the most practical things in your life. Did you catch the flu? He would solve it. Were you injured in battle? Just call the captain.

This meant not having any problems, especially after you decided to start dating. Law became even more attentive to every detail of your health, which made you realize that you didn't have much time to deal with the situation in your hands - more precisely, the situation in your womb.

The tests remained hidden in Ikkaku's drawer, with her being his only confidant at that moment. You wanted to know how many months it was, to be able to share such news, but you knew that as soon as Law found out, he would freak out and that's why you were avoiding him.

Avoiding, in the past verb, after all, he had already noticed something wrong between the two of you. Two knocks on your bedroom door startled you and your roommate.

"Hey." he looked dejected when the door opened, his attention automatically turned to Ikkaku. "Mind leaving us alone for a few minutes?"

"Of course captain." a pious look came from her towards you, before the woman disappeared from your field of vision.

Law, not knowing what to say, sat next to you. As you tried to grab his hand, you felt him move away. Damn it.

"How long have you known?" his cold tone dictated that he was probably not happy at all with the news.

"How do you know?" you answered his question with another, trying to buy time before the approaching storm.

"Today marks two months since you haven't asked me for help with any colic or complained about being sinking in a red river." he laughed, even though he didn't look happy. "By my reckoning, it's also been two months since that day in the kitchen."

Of course, the day in the kitchen. You and Law were always careful, even if you already used your contraceptive method, you preferred to use other types of protection. Except when you arrived at Polar Tang drunk and alone, which resulted in a unprotected sex session on the shared kitchen table.

"Quite a recipe we made." You tried to make fun of him.

"What do we do?" For the first time at that moment, you saw Law's eyes actually find you, worried and afraid.

"What do we do?" you repeated. "I'm pregnant Law, I don't know if there's much to do other than wait for the baby to be born."

"You know what worries me." his harsh response cut through any kind of excitement you held back. "You know very well what will happen to this child."

"What can happen." you corrected him.

"Would you rather risk waiting the nine months, giving birth and seeing your child die some time later? Sounds like a great idea to me." Cynicism echoed in his words just as your two voices were already much louder, taking your hatred to levels you didn't yet know.

"Would you rather I have an abortion and then spend the rest of my life wondering what if my baby had been born healthy?" his silence was the answer you needed at that moment. "You know what? Leave me on the next island, I'd rather take a risk and have my baby happy than have to abort it or even worse, my baby has to live with a parent who hates its existence."

"You don't understand what this could entail." He stood up too, trying to put something that looked like sense into your head. "You stay here until this is resolved."

"This has already been resolved and you don't need to have any involvement in my baby's life." you were sure the entire submarine was already listening to that argument between the two of you. "Get out of here, Law."

"But…"

"Get out of here!" you screamed even louder, seeing the man give up and leave. It only took a few seconds for Ikkaku to appear and allow you to cry for hours on her shoulder.

Anyone looking from the outside could see that you two were in pain. Law had become a shadow of the captain he was, only having small appearances to issue orders or to follow you - even without saying many words - every time you approached an island, fearing that you would leave the crew. Even though the two of you didn't talk anymore, you knew that his disappearance was related to studying everything he could about the disease that ravaged his country and was also present in him.

In the two months that had passed, Law had stopped being your boyfriend and practically become your doctor. Without exchanging many words, you only met when he decided to do some examination on you. To break the mood, you always took one of your friends along. The little information you had about Law came from Bepo, Shachi or Penguin, the only ones who were still able to invade his room and talk to him. Like that afternoon, when they insisted that you convince him to leave the room and have dinner with all his companions.

"Law?" two knocks on the door accompanied your voice. His tired look hit you immediately.

"How can I help you?"

"I wanted you to come have dinner with us." you tried to appeal to what you want. Many times, before pregnancy, that had worked.

"I am a little busy."

"I can bring something here." You suggested, approaching him. On the table, you saw accumulated papers, the vast majority of which titles were not related to Amber Lead.

"No need to worry, I'm fine." he simply replied, seeing that you were reading the papers on his desk. "I found some new studies."

"Law, I told you that you don't need to worry about that right now, we don't know yet…"

"When would you rather I worry?" the cynicism was once again there in his voice and he knew how much you hated it. "When you die on the table because for some reason this shit got to you? Or when I watch our baby die?"

"Now is he our baby?" you used the same resource as him. "From what I remember, I had made it very clear that I didn't want you to be involved in this."

"But it's my obligation."

"Your obligation as a father? I think you lost that right when you made it very clear that I had to take my baby away." you started to walk away from his desk. "Or your obligation as captain? As a boyfriend that isn't, I don't know what it's like to have a boyfriend for a good few months."

"I was busy, trying to find a cure for you two."

"We're both not sick." you sounded offended by what he had proposed. "But keep it up, sink into your books, don't worry when I disappear from this fucking submarine."

You left slamming the door, stressed. The looks that reached you seemed full of pity and concern. You only managed to get as far as the kitchen before a pang hit your head and stomach. Being supported by your colleagues, the only request you made was that no one tell Law about it. You wouldn't give him reason in his incessant search for something he didn't yet know.

Alleviating your worries, the diagnosis arrived quickly: just a spike in high blood pressure. A few hours of rest and an IV should do the trick. When you saw Bepo murmur an apology, you knew exactly what he was going to do and so did your friends, as little by little they left you alone. You remained turned away, even though you heard the door open. Something in the air had changed, it was as if you immediately felt more tense and prepared for another argument.

"Babe, can we talk?" Law's voice sounded much lower than normal, definitely attracting your attention. His affectionate way of calling you was an easy way to make you fall for his words. You turned around, facing him and started to adjust yourself to sit on the stretcher. "No, please, stay still there."

"I'm just going to sit down." You did so, your movement being followed to the millimeter by his eyes. "Just to be clear, I don't want to fight."

"I didn't come here for that reason." he approached, hesitating with every step he took. "Actually, I know you didn't want me to come here for any reason."

"I just don't want to have to hear from my doctor that I'd better have given up on the idea." you turned around, allowing your legs to dangle. "I understand your concerns Law and I would be lying if I said I haven't been terrified of the idea since I saw the first positive test."

"I know." He finally stopped a short distance away, but he still didn't touch you. "I… I-I, damn, why is it so hard?"

"Just let the words come, don't think about them." you suggested, figuring it was just pride keeping you from apologizing for all the previous argument.

"I-I feel like shit." a sigh came out along with the words. "You're right, as a boyfriend I've been terrible, as a doctor then, just look at the fact that you're in a hospital bed and the last person to be informed is me." his fists clenched and then loosened, his tattooed hands rubbed against his face, perhaps in an attempt to get the words out of him.

"Law?" your heart broke when you heard a sniffle come from him, it was the last gesture you expected after everything, it was difficult to connect the information like this.

"I can't lose you and I know it doesn't seem like it, I know I've been a terrible person, but I love this child. I can't lose this too." For the first time after so long together, you saw tears run down your loved one's face. His hands stuck to his hat, pulling in a failed attempt to hide his face. "I can't stop regretting saying that to you, what if our baby hates me for it? What if our baby knows that for a moment, even a small moment, I didn't want him or her to exist."

"My love?" You extended your hand, being accepted by him. Law fit between your legs and buried his face in your neck, even with the muffled sound, you only heard his murmurs and sobs.

"I'm sorry, please. For yelling and being an idiot." he asked, still not letting go of you. "I just can't deal with the thought of losing either of you."

"My dear, look at me." his irises remained almost hidden by the tears that accumulated at his waterline. Your hands dried his face and you didn't know how you weren't crying together. "We still don't know if our child will have amber lead disease, we don't know the scope of your fruit in the cure."

"What should we do in the meantime?"

"As I told you, wait. Make the best of this little time we have until the baby is born." you suggested while your hands traced caresses on his face. "And I just want, I need, my boyfriend back. I don't know how far I can go without you by my side."

"I promise to get better, I promise to take care of you." he replied, taking a deep breath and composing himself. With his hands rubbing his face, Law looked much more centered. "What happened today? When Bepo called me, he just told me it was a blood pressure problem and that you were resting."

"I said I want my boyfriend." you insisted with a smile on your face and saw a small ghost of what would be a smile on Law too.

Law first checked the serum that was being applied to you and then took off the hat he was wearing, placing it on your hair. With his face millimeters away from yours, he placed a quick kiss on your lips, followed by one more and another, until finally you gave way to him. The skin of his face was still damp against your face and your fingers caressed his scalp, the gesture he loved so much and god, how he had missed it. When Law pulled away, you almost pulled him back. Two months were too long apart - even under the same roof.

"I missed you so much." You confessed, not wanting to let go of his hand.

"I missed you too my love, I'm sorry for being such an idiot for so long." He sank against your skin again, this time stealing a few kisses along the way. "What do you think we make up for lost time?"

"That sounds interesting to me."

"No, no sex." he cut you off as soon as he saw you smile mischievously. "Room."

You were back in his room, now lying on the soft bed with gray sheets. Along with the two of you, only the serum and support tied to your skin had come. Law adjusted himself, sitting with his back against the wall and adjusting your body to be against his skin. You saw from the corner of your eye his hand go towards you and retreat, ignoring any complaint he would make, you pulled it back and placed it flat against your belly.

"I don't think you can feel it yet, but I've already started to feel some small movements. In fact, I thought I had stomach gas, until Ikkaku and I found a book explaining that it was the baby." You explained and looking over your shoulder, you could see bright gray eyes staring at you. "Right now, from what I feel, the baby is here." you slid his hand away, stopping next to your side.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked, using his other arm to hug you even tighter. You nodded and saw him smile at the likely thought that crossed his mind before the words came out. "The other day, I accidentally spied on you in your room. I think you had just gotten out of the shower and were in front of the mirror."

"Oh no Law, I don't believe it." you laughed, already knowing what day it was.

"I think you spent about fifteen minutes posing in front of the mirror, caressing our child in your womb. God, you looked so beautiful, so radiant." he allowed himself to almost melt against the wall behind him. "I'm sorry I wasted so much time, so much stuff."

"Can I tell you something too? I actually need to update you on a few things." you asked and felt his face move against your skin, nodding. "Did you know that our baby is already just like you? I can't even see a piece of bread before I'm ready to spill my stomach."

That night, the two of you spent a lot of time there. You telling him about the little news that Law had missed in the time you didn't talk and him explaining little curiosities to you, things that seemed incredible to him because they were happening in the body of the woman he loved and he didn't have the courage to tell you before.

In the fifth month - now with a new version of Law, one much more adept at the idea of ​​being a father and much more attached to you. You were dragged by him to a small room, finding Ikkaku, Shachi and Penguin sitting at the table waiting for you.

"What is that?" You sat down in the chair that Law arranged for you, he soon took the place next to you.

"You said you didn't want me as a doctor, so if you want and you have time to think about it, they will be your doctor."

"And you?" your voice was almost cornered, trying to connect the pieces of the situation that was presented. "Aren't you going to be at the birth?"

"I'll be there all the time and any problem, I'll take care of it. But I want to be there for you, for our baby. Instead of scalpels and speculums, I just want to hold your hand." Law chuckled as he saw your little pout that you made start to tremble. "Sound like a good idea to you?"

"T-This is in-amazing." despite Law seeing you get emotional, the loudest crying came from the other side of the table.

"Man, that was beautiful." Shachi was struggling, leaning on Penguin.

"It's so good that you guys are back."

"Idiots." the woman commented, turning to you. "Come on, tell me everything you expect from the birth of our little baby."

After spending the remaining months buried in books next to him, this time looking for good information and not just a cure for an illness, you learned that the stretcher was not a good place to give birth and that sensations were an important part of the process, in other words, goodbye Ope Ope no Mi's anesthesia powers. Law seemed to want to make up for the distance by always staying close to you and always reminding you how special you were to him, like when you looked adorable when the jumpsuit stopped fitting around your belly or when you and Bepo joined in complaining about the heat.

With the help of your own nature, the chosen doctors and Law behind you in that hot tub, your girl arrived into the world quickly and much less painfully than you thought. In the first few hours, little Rosi didn't let go of you and only when the water around the bathtub became cold did Law manage to take his focus off the little baby to take you two to a more cozy place.

In the early days, Law's hands seemed tied to Rosi. When the girl with eyes as gray as her father's wasn't on his lap, Law was following you like a shadow to ensure the health of both of you. Sometimes looking sideways, you could see Law observing every inch of the girl, in a constant search for signs of the cursed disease that had once taken his family from him. He would never allow that to happen to his little girl.

The worry lasted for years and there was never a sign of the disease or any other illness. Before, if everyone at Polar Tang had a strict health care schedule, with the arrival of the girl, attention redoubled.

Rosi was like seeing a mini-version of Law walking around, especially because of the copy of his hat that he had gotten for her. All the love that Law took to give you and her, when it was just a fetus inside you, the doctor seemed to make up for it with the girl, there wasn't something she wanted or asked for that he wasn't ready to do.

Rosi seemed to love accompanying her father in laboratories and studies, this seemed to change when she was once injured in an attack, in fact Rosi lost her balance with the Polar Tang speeding into the sea and ended up getting a cut on her forehead, patched by Ikkaku since Law was busy fending off enemies. That had been enough trauma for little Rosi to not want to know more about medical things.

"Please, my sweetie, it's just a small remedy." you tried to pull the girl out of the closet.

"No, no, no." she grumbled. The little gray eyes full of water. "It's going to hurt a lot."

"It won't hurt, my love." you insisted, seeing her deny it.

"My princess?" Law bent down, reaching her height. "Come on, this is to make you okay."

"Daddy, it's going to hurt a lot, I don't want it." she grumbled even more, knowing that Law was much easier to convince.

"Doesn't your throat hurt too?" he asked and the little girl nodded. "I promise it won't hurt anymore."

"But what about the injection?"

"Daddy also promises it won't hurt at all." he reaffirmed and saw the girl come out of hiding, heading straight into his arms. "Babe, she's a little feverish." he murmured to you, almost despair forming on his face.

"Law, it's just a cold." you warned him, following him as your daughter rested against his shoulder. You knew that when it came to Rosi's health, Law was the most concerned of all.

"Daddy, it's because I was lying on the ice with Bepo." the girl confessed the information, adjusting herself to reach Law's field of vision. "I'm just a little sick, that's it." she created a small space between her fingers.

"That's great, my love." He placed the girl sitting on the stretcher. "It means it'll only take that long for you to get better." he repeated the gesture she had made with her fingers. "Ready?" he saw her deny it, laughing. "Do you want mommy to hold your hand?"

"Yes!" She reached out her little hand to you. "Mommy, what is this?"

"It's dad's way of taking care of us." You tried to sum it up the best way. Maybe she was too young to understand how akuma no mis works.

"Ready? First take a deep breath…" Law imitated, holding the air for a while and making her laugh when she saw him puffed up. "And now…" he applied the injection to her arm. He knew it hadn't hurt at all, but the girl automatically started to pout. "My little princess, what happened? Did it hurt?"

"No." she said, her voice breaking. You both had to laugh when you saw her asking you to hold her without even moving the arm that Law had given the injection to.

"My love, what do you think…" Law bent down to look into her eyes as he spoke. "We can go to the kitchen and steal…"

"Bepo!" the girl stretched her arm towards the bear that appeared in the field of vision. "I want to be with Bepo."

"With Bepo?" Law pretended to be frustrated.

"He's warm and I'm cold." you passed the girl to Bepo, who was her favorite company. Law insisted that it was because the mental age was identical, but you always laughed at the accusations while the bear grumbled.

"What do you say we read a little?" Bepo suggested, letting Rosi climb onto his shoulder.

The two of you accompanied him to the living room, giving Bepo information about the girl being feverish. It only took a few words from the bear who started reading one of her favorite stories for Rosi to fall asleep. Law carefully took his daughter from him and started walking alongside you to the girl's room.

"I can't believe she chose to go with him."

"Well, you had just given her an injection, she harbored some resentment." you joked and saw him frown. "Maybe the next one will like us more than a huge, cuddly bear."

"Next, huh?" he spoke in a low tone, not wanting to wake the girl in his arms.

"Exactly. Or have you forgotten about the ten minutes hiding in your living room when Ikkaku was having a girls' night out with Rosi?" You saw his expression light up, a smile that you hadn't seen the first time you had this kind of conversation and that was one of your favorite things in the world.

"How long, is a month half?" he tried to hold back his louder, surprised voice.

"Yes, I took the test last week." you watched him open the door and place little Rosi on the pink bed. Before you could return to the subject, you felt him take you in his arms and lift you up, filling your face with kisses.

"I love you so much, I love you both." he put you down. "To be more exact, the three of you."

[bellamoooon]

Will you let me hold you, please?

High school theater kid! Cooper x High school theater kid! Fem Reader

TW: extra corny bad written fic about a fruit salad 🤗

A.N: I completely understand if you do not want to finish reading this, I literally wrote this for funsies and because of the lack of cooper fics

"Have a little faith, Cooper is a great actor!" my friend Madelyn suggests as we walk away from the bulletin board. "I've seen him in a couple of school plays before, and plus, you are a great actress. I'm sure you'll do just fine."

"You do realize he's a sophomore, right? Maddie, I'm a freshman—he’ll be incredibly uncomfortable!" I say, turning to her as I glance down at my phone, checking the time. Five minutes until the first script read-through.

"Chill, Y/N. I had art with him last semester, and he’s honestly the sweetest human being. You’ll do just fine. Besides, he doesn’t talk to any of the other sophomores, so he doesn’t really care," she tries to comfort me, but it’s of no use. "He’s a 'go with the flow' kind of guy."

"Sure, yeah… Cooper, super nice, super chill, as cool as a breeze," I reply in an awkward voice as we reach the doors of the auditorium.

"Ew, don’t do that in front of him, please!" she laughs, patting my back. "Look, you got the role for a reason. You have talent. Thrive in it. It’ll be like home to you—I just know it." She smiles softly, and it makes me feel better. She always knows how to keep me grounded.

I sigh as I push open the door, stepping inside. I turn back to see Madelyn giving me two thumbs up. Dork.

I head to the front row of the empty auditorium, dropping my backpack into one of the seats. I glance around at everyone else, talking among themselves—none of them have noticed me yet.

"Hey, look! It’s Baby Moon!" Or so I thought.

I turn to see Liv, a senior, shouting from across the room. I remember her from when she was a junior and my brother, who had just recently graduated, was a senior. They had... a thing. No one really knew what it was—hell, I didn’t even know, and my brother tells me everything. When he graduated, he cut ties with her, saying it was for the best. He was right, but she refused to accept it. Ever since then, she’s made it her mission to make my life hell.

That’s why she got everyone to start calling me "Baby Moon," because of my last name. I hate the nickname.

"Thanks for the warm welcome, Liv," I say sarcastically as the others’ laughter dies down. She walks toward me with an arrogant smile. Can't wait to hear this.

"So, Baby Moon, congrats on the lead with Koch," she sneers, using Cooper's last name, which I know he hates—something Madelyn had mentioned.

"Thanks. Which role did you get? Tree number one?" I mock with a pout, to which she scoffs. "Relax, I know you wanted a low-profile role, so you went for the ensemble."

She rolls her eyes and walks away as we hear the theater teacher enter.

"Good afternoon, my beautiful actors and actresses! Today will be simple. We’ll have a first read of the scripts, and I’ll have the leads do a semi-improv chemistry test. Are we clear?" Everyone nods or mutters a 'yes' in response as she takes her seat in the front row with her clipboard. "Y/N, I see you're here. Has Cooper arrived?"

I look around. No sign of him.

"No, I haven’t seen him—"

"I’m here! Sorry! I’m here!" Cooper bursts through the door, his hair ruffled and his backpack hanging low from his arm. He must have sprinted from the other side of the school.

The teacher giggles softly. "It's alright, Cooper. Please grab a script."

He nods, grabbing the only remaining script from the second-to-last seat in the front row. He sits down, exhaling deeply, still panting from his run. He looks up, and our eyes meet for a brief moment before we both look away.

We finally start the read-through. I'm enjoying myself, and I glance around to see how others are reacting. Some look bored as usual, while others are laughing, and a few seem to be trying.

The teacher then announces the reading is over, and the leads are to come up to the stage for the chemistry test. I make my way to the stage, followed by Cooper, while the others remain seated, watching.

"I want to see some romance. Show me how you two connect, okay? Just let it flow," the teacher instructs.

I turn to Cooper, internally panicking about how I ended up in this situation, knowing I have zero guts for anything romantic.

"And... action!" the teacher calls out.

"I said I was sorry," Cooper says, his expression pleading, his voice taking on a whiny tone. Okay... think, Y/N, think.

"I-I don't know what to tell you. This was everything to me. You made a promise, and you broke it," I reply, spitting out the words with a mix of rage and a face on the verge of tears.

"Baby..." His voice softens as he steps closer, taking my hands in his. "I know I was wrong, but... I love you." He draws nearer.

"I just... I..." Before I know it, Cooper is down on his knees, his head level with my chin due to our height difference. One hand wraps around my waist while the other supports behind my knees.

"Please... I'll beg for your forgiveness if that's what you want. But please..." My hands instinctively move to his head—one running through his hair, the other resting on his cheek. "Please, baby... I promise I won't hurt you again."

A shiver runs down my spine as he speaks, his voice so smooth, so full of emotion that I almost forget we’ve never met before. Yet here he is, on his knees, begging for my forgiveness.

"I just can't... but you're just... so hard to get away from. You're like a drug to me. Tell me, love, what did you do to me? Why can't I walk away from you?" His face inches closer to mine, and without realizing it, I lean in too. Our lips meet—not rough or desperate, but soft and caring.

"And cut! Wow!" I pull away, realizing what just happened. My cheeks flush red as I turn to see the theater teacher smiling widely.

I turn back to find Cooper still on his knees, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist, making me blush even more. I extend a hand to help him stand.

"Nice to meet you, Cooper," I laugh, finally introducing myself after the whole unplanned scenario.

"Same here, Y/N." He laughs too, shaking my hand. Gosh, this is mortifying.

As Cooper stands up and shakes my hand, I can’t help but blush even harder. My cheeks feel like they’re on fire. I try to compose myself as the theater teacher begins to speak.

“That was absolutely brilliant!” she exclaims, clapping her hands together in excitement. “You two have incredible chemistry on stage. I’m feeling some real magic here.”

I turn back to Cooper, and we exchange a sheepish smile, still feeling the adrenaline from the scene we had just performed. My heart races as I realize we had just kissed. Even if it was just for the scene, it still left me feeling a bit flustered.

The theater teacher continues, "I knew I made the right choice in casting you two as leads! You're both incredibly talented, and you play off each other so well."

I glance at Cooper again, feeling a strange mix of butterflies in my stomach and a tinge of nervousness.

The teacher goes on, "I’m really excited to see what you two can do together. The opening night is in three weeks, so we better start working hard!"

I nod in agreement, still trying to process the events of the past few minutes. I can feel the eyes of the other cast members on us, some looking curious, others slightly envious.

Cooper speaks up for the first time, his voice as smooth as it was during the scene, "I’m really looking forward to working with you, Y/N."

“Me too… you’re really talented. You had me there for a second, and we just met.” I chuckle as we walk off the stage, grabbing our backpacks. “I’m not gonna lie, I was way too nervous before coming in. I thought you’d be, uhm— intimidating?”

Cooper chuckles softly as he walks beside me, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "Intimidating? Me?" he says jokingly. "I’m not sure whether to feel honored or offended that you thought I was intimidating," he laughs again, this time softer.

We reach the door, which he pushes open to let me go first. I mutter a small "thanks." “Well, probably a bit offended, seeing as I’m literally mocked by everyone in this school, so… I was kinda expecting the same.”

Cooper's expression softens when I mention the mocking, and I see a hint of concern in his eyes. He then speaks, "I’m sorry to hear that… but trust me, I’m not like everyone else. I’m a pretty chill guy, and I don’t see you as less than anyone because you’re a freshman or whatever it is they mock you about."

“That’s— thanks…” I smile softly as I notice him subtly biting his bottom lip. “If they ever ask for Baby Moon, just know, that’s me,” I say with a chuckle, feeling a bit flustered.

Cooper lets out a laugh, "Baby Moon, huh? That’s a new one.” He raises an eyebrow, still smiling. “I have a feeling that’s not the only nickname you’ve accrued.”

“Not at all, no,” I laugh, noticing his messy hair, which I’d messed up earlier when I ran my hands through it. “I’m— sorry about your hair. It was the moment,” I stammer, blushing even more.

Cooper laughs sheepishly, bringing a hand up to ruffle his hair. “Don’t worry about it. Besides, it looks better this way.” He glances at me with a playful smirk. “Though I can’t help but wonder if you just wanted an excuse to mess it up.”

“Then I wonder if you just wanted an excuse to kiss me,” I turn it back on him, trying not to burst into laughter.

Cooper’s eyes widen in surprise, clearly not expecting that response. A blush slowly creeps onto his face as he struggles to reply. He stutters out a quick response, “I—no—uh…” Then he breaks into laughter, clearly amused by my retort. “Damn, good one,” he says, still laughing.

“I’m just teasing you. I’m never serious,” I laugh as I see someone running toward us. I turn around and see Madelyn approaching with a knowing smile as she spots me standing there with Cooper.

Cooper chuckles at my comment, still amused by our exchange. We then turn to see Madelyn approach, her grin widening as she sees us together. She walks up to us, her eyes flickering between Cooper and me with an almost conspiratorial look.

“Well— I…I’ll see you tomorrow at rehearsal, Cooper,” I smile at him and glance at his messy hair again. “You better fix that, or people might get the wrong idea.”

Cooper gives me a sly smile, clearly enjoying the banter. “Sure thing. Can’t have people thinking I was making out with the lead now, can I?”

He then laughs and playfully fixes his hair a bit, though it still looks incredibly messy. “There. Better?”

“A mirror might help you,” I snort as I grab Madelyn’s arm. Cooper huffs in mock annoyance.

“Hey, I tried my best!”

Madelyn grabs my arm and begins to pull me away as Cooper calls out. “See you tomorrow! Don’t forget to practice your lines!”

“You bet I won’t!” I answer, blushing, knowing Madelyn would comment on Cooper’s "making out with the lead" remark.

After we walk away, Madelyn looks at me with a mischievous grin, her eyes practically sparkling with curiosity.

“So…” she begins, a hint of playfulness in her voice, “making out with the lead, huh?”

“It’s just— a joke, a joke. We didn’t, like… make out for real,” I say, stammering as I look down at my feet.

Madelyn smirks at me, clearly enjoying my flustered state. “So you did make out with him,” she says, still grinning. “Wow, you do not waste time, do you?”

“Shut up, will ya? This is so embarrassing. We just— kissed for the chemistry thing and… and we introduced ourselves after he’d stuck his tongue down my throat! God—” I cover my face with my hands. Please kill me.

Madelyn bursts out laughing, clearly finding the whole situation hilarious. "Oh my god, Y/N," she giggles. "You’re blushing so hard right now. And his tongue down your throat? Wow, so much for being the quiet one, huh?"

“Shut up!” I laugh, mortified by the whole situation. I will never EVER live this down. “I’m just glad it’s over, so the kiss in rehearsals and on opening night won’t be… awkward.” I sigh as the heat from my cheeks dies down.

Madelyn snickers as she slings an arm around my shoulders. "Oh, you'll be fine. As long as you can see him again in rehearsals and on opening night. I'm sure you'll have plenty more 'tongue down the throat' moments to look forward to."

“Maddie! Oh my gosh!” I yell as she bursts out laughing, clearly finding this whole thing incredibly amusing while I find it rather mortifying.

As we walk down the hallway, suddenly Liv stands in our way, making us stop. She steps in front of us with a smug smile on her face. "Well, well, well," she sneers, looking directly at me. "Looks like the freshman got lucky, huh?"

I cringe internally as I realize what she's referring to. Liv had always loved bringing me down. I don't say anything, just try to maintain my composure as I look at her blankly.

She continues, turning her attention to Madelyn. "I mean, who would have thought little Baby Moon would get the lead and a cute upperclassman all in one day?"

"Liv—" I feel blank, and I don't want to fight, but I also know Madelyn won't let this slide.

Madelyn, ever the outspoken one, steps in front of me, her expression hardening. "Cut the crap, Liv," she spits. "You know damn well that Y/N deserves that role more than anyone."

Liv scoffs, unfazed by Madelyn's words. "Please, just because she's a freshman doesn't mean she's any good. And I saw her with Koch earlier—he's way out of her league."

Madelyn rolls her eyes, clearly annoyed by Liv's condescending attitude. "You're just jealous," she snaps back. "Y/N's a damn good actress, and Cooper being into her just proves it."

"He's not—" I try to speak, but they both completely ignore me.

Liv smirks, not backing down. "Please, he's not into her, and even if he was, it's only because she's the lead. Once opening night is over, he'll dump her and move on to the next girl who gets the lead."

"He's not into me, and neither am I into him! It's just acting!" I snap, frustration bubbling over. "God, Liv, get a fucking life and stop snooping into mine because you're still obsessed with my brother! Go find a friend or something!" I gasp for air as I stop myself from saying anything else. Shit.

Liv's face goes slack at my outburst, clearly taken aback. Madelyn looks shocked, but I can see a hint of approval in her eyes. The hallway falls eerily quiet as people around us stop to look and whisper about what just happened.

"I—Liv, I'm so sorry—"

Liv takes a step back, clearly stung. She tries to keep her cool, but I can see the hurt in her eyes. "Shut up," she says, her voice strained. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

Madelyn steps between us, trying to diffuse the tension. "Okay, both of you, chill out," she says, her voice firm but calm.

Liv glares at me before pushing past us, bumping my shoulder as she walks away. Madelyn turns to me, a mix of concern and approval on her face. "That was intense," she says, shaking her head.

"I'm 100% screwed," I mutter as I stare blankly down the hallway. I was barely into freshman year, and my high school life was already over.

Madelyn sighs, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Hey, don’t worry too much about it. Yeah, Liv's probably pissed, but she'll get over it. And besides, this might actually work in your favor."

The next day comes around, and I'm walking into the auditorium for rehearsal. The events of yesterday are still fresh in my mind, and I can feel the tension in the air as I make my way down the aisle to the stage. Some of the cast members give me curious glances, clearly aware of the confrontation with Liv.

As I approach the stage, I spot Cooper sitting off to the side, going over some notes. He looks up and gives me a small smile, clearly aware of the awkwardness between us after the whole flirty interaction and making-out thing. I awkwardly return the smile and make my way beside him.

I set my backpack down and try to think of something to say, but before I can, Cooper breaks the silence. "Hey," he says softly. "How are you holding up after yesterday?"

"I see you've heard about my little outburst to Liv—like everyone else." I shake my head as I pull the script from my backpack. "You never realize how quickly gossip spreads until you reach high school."

Cooper lets out a small laugh, clearly amused. "Yeah, I heard about it," he says, still smiling. "But don't worry too much. Half the people in this school have probably gotten into a fight with Liv at some point."

"Yeah, well, I'm not exactly thrilled to be one of Liv's mortal enemies." I smile as I turn the pages of the script, marking specific sections with numbers and lines. He lets out another soft laugh, mirroring my actions.

"Well, if she keeps you as her mortal enemy, she can count on having two now," he says, his eyes meeting mine. "I've got your back. I'm not a raging asshole."

I laugh, looking down at my hands, feeling a bit flustered by his words, though my head pounds lightly. He barely knew me, yet he was already being so sweet. But then Liv’s words echoed in my head for some reason.

He was probably just being nice because I was the lead. He has no reason to be this nice or "have my back."

"Yeah, thanks..." I say softly, trying to push Liv's voice out of my head. She's the raging asshole, not Cooper.

"By the way, have you read through the whole thing?" He closes his script. "I'm obsessed with the confession scene," he says, grabbing my script and flipping through the pages until he lands on a specific part with a grin. I yawn as he hands the script back to me. "Sleepy? It's barely 11:30, you know?" he snorts, seeing my tired expression.

"Yeah, just—" I yawn again. "Yeah, just a little." I smile softly, though it was far more than just a little. I hadn't slept more than an hour and hadn't eaten anything yet, only drinking water all morning.

"Well, better wake up, kid. We've got some rehearsing to do," he laughs as he gets up and walks on stage. Our teacher stands up and starts indicating the scenes we'd be rehearsing during the week, and something about costumes, though I don't really hear any of it as the room spins around me.

"Y/N, get into place with Cooper, sweetheart," she calls out. I walk slowly, carefully stepping onto the stage. I glance at Cooper, his expression showing clear confusion, as if to say, "She was fine a couple of minutes ago."

"Okay, Cooper, start on the second line on the third page, scene two. You there?" He quickly reads through the page and gives a thumbs-up. The teacher then turns to me. "Y/N, are you with us, love?"

I glance down at the page, then up at her and nod softly, trying to ignore my exhaustion and pounding headache.

"Mhm." Cooper turns to me, still looking concerned but saying nothing.

"Alright then, Cooper, on my count," the teacher says. "And... action!"

"I haven't seen you around here, are you new?" Cooper says, holding his hands behind his back as he moves steadily closer. "I'm Alec. You are?"

"Yeah, that’s—me, new—nice to meet you." I stretch out my hand, and he rolls his eyes with a playful grin. "Roni, I'm Roni, a pleasure."

"Well, Roni, what brings you around here? Little spoiler: there's not much to see." He turns his back on me, taking a few steps away before stopping and spinning around.

"My—my..." I try to step back, but my legs wobble. I let out a shaky breath, struggling to finish my line. "My—mom, she's on boyfriend number four, so..."

"Oh—messy home life?" His brows furrow as he sees me stumble. "Everything alright?"

"Not—not really, but I can live with it." My breathing becomes shaky as the whole auditorium spins faster. Cooper glances at our teacher, then back at me. I attempt to take another step, but my knees buckle, and I feel myself fainting.

Cooper rushes over in an instant, wrapping his arms around mine as he fell to the ground with me in his arms and falling onto his lap.

A few gasps were heard as the whole thing happened. Cooper stroked some hair out of my face as he checked me over. The teacher called a fifteen-minute break before coming up to check on me and Cooper, who hadn’t left my side.

“Y/N, sweetie, what happened? Are you alright? Did you get hurt?” she asked, grabbing my chin and turning my face from side to side as she checked me. I shut my eyes, still dizzy from the tumble.

“Yeah, just—tired. I had a long night, that’s all.”

“Y/N, you collapsed. You would’ve hit the ground if I hadn’t caught you,” Cooper spoke up as someone handed him his backpack after he silently signaled for it. “You are in no state to rehearse today.” The teacher nodded as he pulled out a chocolate protein bar and handed it to me. “You have to eat something, please.”

“Cooper, I’m fine—really.” As our teacher walked away, he opened the wrapper and placed the bar in my hand. I turned to him, and he just remained silent. “Cooper—”

“Eat. I can’t have my love interest fainting on me,” he chuckled. Finally, I gave in and took a bite, feeling immediate relief as something hit my stomach after hours of starvation.

I finished the bar, and I realized I was still sitting between Cooper’s legs as he held me, not letting go at any moment. I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks as I saw him smiling down at me. I tried to get up, but he gently took hold of my wrist.

“Will you let me hold you here for a while, please?” he asked shyly, sighing. “Rest here for a bit. I just want to make sure you’re okay, please.”

“You are... too sweet. Fine,” I replied, staying in place as Cooper wrapped his arms around my neck from behind. I shook my head with a small smile.

“Is this a bad moment to ask if you’d like to get coffee with me sometime?” he asked, peeking his head around the side. I let out an audible laugh. Madelyn was right—he might just be the sweetest human being ever.

[merthosus]

Hi! It's my first time requesting something so please excuse me if my explanation is bad. (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠)

Okay so uh I have this convo with a Five Hargreeves C.ai bot it went on like uh Five and reader are arguing with each other and Five said 'I hope you died in the apocalypse' which end up reader got upset and taking it seriously.

This take place around season 2 before The Handler sent Five to kill board members(?), I forgot what they called, so Y/N went to the Commission and snatch a brief case but got caught and uh got killed.

You can decide what power Y/N have but it should have a connection to teleportation since I was thinking that it's how Y/N managed to sneak into the Commission, again my apology if it's hard to understand (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠) and uh if you want I can send my convo with the bot to you if it's going to help (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

The argument

Summary: After Five telling you horrible things about what he thinks about you, you make his dreams true Involuntarily you get hurt by the handler and five finally sees the truth worth of you being by his side, alive...

Thank you for your request, loved the idea behind that!! Loving the angsty trope :)

"I wish you had died in the apocalypse"

The argument started like most of them did—stress, frustration, and Five’s single-minded obsession with the mission. But tonight, something felt different. The air between you and Five was heavy, thicker than usual, and the words you were hurling at each other were sharper, more hurtful.

“I’m tired of this, Five! You treat me like I’m just another one of your problems to solve!” you shouted, hands trembling with anger. "You don't care about anyone except yourself!" Five stood rigid, his jaw clenched as he glared at you. “You think I have time to care about your feelings right now? We’re trying to stop the goddamn apocalypse!"

"And what if I didn’t want to help you anymore?" you fired back, heart pounding. "What if I just disappeared?" "Maybe that would be better,” he snapped, his voice cold and unforgiving. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to keep cleaning up after you! You’ve been nothing but a distraction!"

The words hit you like a slap, but you stood your ground, refusing to let him see the pain behind your eyes. “Is that what you really think?” Five’s expression darkened. “I wish you had died in the apocalypse.” The room went silent. His words echoed between you like a death sentence. Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt the sting of tears welling up, but you swallowed them down. “Fine,” you whispered, voice trembling. “If that’s how you feel, then I’m done.”

Before he could say another word, you disappeared—teleporting away, leaving him alone in the echo of his own cruelty.

Anger still roiled in your chest as you phased into the Commission, your teleportation power allowing you to slip past their security systems without a trace. You weren’t thinking straight, but you had a plan—a reckless one. If Five didn’t care, then what was stopping you from taking matters into your own hands?

You crept through the labyrinth of the Commission’s corridors, your goal clear: grab a briefcase and get out. Maybe you could fix things on your own, or maybe… you didn’t know anymore. All you wanted was to escape the pain, to make Five regret pushing you away. But just as your hand touched a briefcase, a voice cut through the air. “Well, well, well,” the Handler’s cold, saccharine voice echoed through the room. “Isn’t this a surprise?”

You froze. Before you could react, Commission agents swarmed you, guns raised and aimed at your head. Your powers flickered, but something was wrong—you couldn’t teleport out. The Handler stepped forward, a wicked smile on her face. “Teleporters like you really should know better than to try this here.” You tried to fight back, but it was no use. A single gunshot rang out, and pain exploded through your chest.

You collapsed, the briefcase slipping from your grasp as darkness closed in.

As your vision blurred and the icy grip of pain tightened around your chest, you heard the Handler’s heels clicking closer. The sharp scent of gunpowder filled the air, mingling with the metallic taste of blood rising in your throat.

“Well, isn’t this poetic,” she said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “You were always too ambitious for your own good.”

Your body screamed in agony, but you forced yourself to stay conscious, the adrenaline barely keeping you tethered to reality. Gasping for air, you managed to lift your head enough to meet her gaze, defiance flickering in your eyes.

"I—I won’t let you win,” you choked out, your voice ragged and weak, but the fire in your heart still burning despite the looming darkness.

The Handler tilted her head, her smile widening. “Oh, sweetheart. You’ve already lost.” She crouched down beside you, reaching out to tap a perfectly manicured nail against the briefcase you’d almost claimed. “But don’t worry, you’ve served your purpose.”

As the edges of your vision darkened, a strange calm settled over you. Maybe it was the shock, or maybe it was the thought of Five—of the cold words he had thrown at you, pushing you to this point. You had come here, driven by anger and pain, but now that your life was slipping away, all you could think of was him. How much you had cared for him. How much it hurt that he didn’t feel the same.

But just as the world began to fade, something shifted. The air in the room crackled with a familiar energy, one that you knew all too well. Time itself seemed to warp, bending unnaturally, and you realized with a jolt that someone had followed you here.

A moment later, the Handler’s satisfied smirk twisted into surprise as the familiar blue flash of teleportation split the room. And there he was—Five, standing in the middle of the chaos, his face pale and eyes wide with something that looked far too much like regret.

“You,” he growled, his gaze locking onto the Handler as he took in the scene—the blood pooling around you, the briefcase abandoned at your side, and your body crumpled on the floor. “What the hell did you do?” The Handler stood up, her cool demeanor still intact despite Five’s obvious fury. “You should be thanking me, Five. She was just a distraction, wasn’t she? Isn’t that what you said?”

Five’s eyes flickered with something raw, something haunted. His jaw clenched as he slowly turned toward you, kneeling beside your body. His hands were shaking, uncharacteristically so, as he pressed them to your wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. "You're not dying," he muttered, almost as if saying it aloud would make it true. “Don’t you dare die on me.”

You could barely keep your eyes open, your breathing shallow and labored, but the sound of his voice—desperate, breaking—kept you anchored. For a second, you wondered if you were hallucinating, if this was some fevered dream brought on by blood loss. But the pain was too real, the cold creeping into your limbs too sharp to be anything but reality. "No... no..", he muttered, as the handler left the room. "I didn't mean to..."; he whispers.

Five’s voice trembled, a sound so foreign to you that it barely registered at first. You blinked through the haze of pain, forcing yourself to focus on him, on the boy—no, the man—who always seemed so invincible, so sure of himself. But now, here he was, on his knees beside you, his mask of indifference shattered.

“I didn’t mean it,” Five whispered again, his voice breaking as his hands pressed harder against your wound. “You weren’t supposed to get hurt. You weren’t supposed to—" He swallowed, his throat constricting as the weight of his own words seemed to crash down on him.

A bitter taste filled your mouth as you tried to speak, but the blood loss made your words slur, your body too weak to move. Even so, you managed to meet his eyes—those piercing blue eyes that had always been so cold, now filled with a desperation you had never seen before.

“Why… did you… follow me?” you rasped, your voice barely a whisper, each word taking more effort than the last.

Five’s eyes flickered with guilt, shame, and something else—something softer, deeper, that made your chest tighten for reasons other than the gunshot wound.

“Because I couldn’t let you go,” he murmured, his voice raw. “Not like this. Not ever.” His hand tightened around yours, his grip trembling as though you might slip away from him at any second. “I thought I could push you away… that I could keep you safe by making you hate me. But all I did was drive you straight into danger. I was wrong. I was so wrong.”

A weak laugh escaped your lips, but it was more of a cough, and it sent a fresh wave of pain through your chest. "Took you… long enough," you muttered, your voice barely audible, but Five heard you. His lips twitched into a sad, bitter smile. “I know,” he said, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the blood staining his hands. “I’m an idiot.”

The room around you felt colder, the edges of your vision beginning to blur again as the blood loss took its toll. You felt yourself slipping further away, but Five’s voice kept pulling you back—like a tether to the world you were on the verge of leaving.

"Stay with me," he urged, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with a desperation that you had never heard from him before. "I can fix this. I will fix this. I just need you to hold on a little longer."

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to trust that he could make everything right, that the pain you were feeling wasn’t permanent. But as your body grew colder, it became harder and harder to fight the darkness that was creeping in. “Five…” you whispered, your voice barely a breath, “I don’t… want to leave… you.”

Five’s expression twisted in pain, his eyes burning with unshed tears. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said fiercely, as if sheer force of will could keep you tethered to life. “You’re staying right here with me.”

Five’s hand tightened around yours, as if his sheer grip could tether you to the world and keep the darkness at bay. His usual confidence was gone, replaced by raw desperation that sent a shiver through you, despite the numbness creeping in. You could feel his pulse racing through his fingertips—steady, alive, unlike the faint, weakening beat of your own.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry for everything I said.” His eyes bore into yours, pleading, the cold blue of them softened by the wet sheen of tears he refused to let fall. “You were never a distraction. You were the only thing keeping me sane in all of this chaos.”

His words, laced with guilt and something like fear, hit you harder than the gunshot. You had always known Five cared in his own way, but hearing him say it now, when it might be too late, was like a bittersweet echo in the hollow space between life and death.

You tried to speak, but the pain was too much, your breath too shallow. Your eyelids fluttered, heavy with exhaustion and the creeping cold. The world around you began to blur again, slipping away despite Five’s grip. “No,” he muttered, his voice fierce now. “Stay with me. You’re not going anywhere.” He leaned closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “I won’t let you go.”

You wanted to stay, wanted to fight, but the pull of the darkness was so strong, and the pain so overwhelming. You could feel your consciousness slipping, the world fading away in pieces. But before you could fall into that abyss completely, something shifted—a familiar hum of energy rippled through the air.

Five stiffened beside you, his head snapping up, eyes widening as the blue glow of the briefcase intensified. The air around you crackled with power, time itself seeming to bend and twist as if reality were being rewritten. “I’m going to fix this,” Five murmured, his voice filled with a renewed sense of urgency. “I’ll fix everything. I promise.”

Your vision wavered as you watched him frantically adjust the dials on the briefcase, his fingers moving with a precision only he possessed. The hum grew louder, the light brighter, and then, with a sudden jolt, everything around you warped. Your whole body was sucking up the pain.

The world twisted and bent, the crackling energy from the briefcase tearing at the edges of reality, until suddenly everything snapped back into place. The cold, sterile halls of the Commission vanished, replaced by something softer, warmer. You blinked, your mind disoriented, the sharp, unbearable pain that had gripped your body dulling into an almost distant ache.

Slowly, you became aware of your surroundings. You weren’t lying on the cold floor of the Commission anymore. The familiar scent of old books, faint cologne, and wood polish filled your senses. You were in Five’s room, lying in his bed, the heavy blankets tucked around you. For a moment, you weren’t sure if this was real, or if you were simply dreaming, caught in some strange limbo between life and death. But the warmth was too real, the sound of your own ragged breathing too loud in your ears.

You shifted slightly, the movement sending a wave of soreness through your body. A soft groan escaped your lips as your hand instinctively went to your chest, where the bullet had struck you. But instead of the expected searing pain, your fingers found smooth bandages tightly wrapped around the wound. It was tender, but healing. You were alive.

The realization hit you like a shock, and just as you were about to sit up, you felt a weight beside you on the bed. Turning your head, you saw Five, slumped in a chair pulled up next to the bed, his head resting in his hands, elbows on his knees. His clothes were rumpled, dark circles etched beneath his eyes, and for the first time, he looked… vulnerable. Exhausted.

The tension in his posture, the way his shoulders sagged, told you more than any words ever could. He had saved you—brought you back from the brink of death—and now, after everything, he was sitting there, waiting for you to wake up.

You shifted again, trying to adjust your position, and the small movement made Five glance up. His sharp blue eyes met yours instantly, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The relief that washed over his face was so raw, so palpable, it took your breath away.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but laced with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

You swallowed, your throat dry. “Am I... really here?”

Five stood abruptly, the legs of the chair scraping against the floor. He moved closer to the bed, his expression still guarded but softer, more open than you had ever seen it. "Yes. You're safe. I told you I'd fix it." His voice cracked slightly, betraying the storm of emotions simmering just beneath the surface.

You wanted to say something, anything, but the weight of what had happened hung between you. The argument. The gunshot. The way he had followed you despite everything.

"Five," you began, your voice weak, but he shook his head, cutting you off gently.

"Don’t," he said quietly, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to control himself. "Just... don’t. I don't want to hear an apology, or a thank you. Not after what I did. What I said."

You stared at him, unsure of what to say. The pain of his earlier words still lingered, but seeing him like this—so raw and human—made it hard to hold onto the anger.

“I didn’t mean any of it,” he continued, his voice tight. “I thought if I pushed you away, if I made you hate me, it would be easier to protect you. To keep you out of danger. But I was wrong. I’m always wrong about these things.”

You could hear the guilt, the self-loathing, threaded through his words. And in that moment, it was clear that this was more than just about the argument. This was about everything—about how Five had always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, how he had never known how to let anyone in, how he was terrified of losing the few people he actually cared about.

With effort, you lifted your hand and reached out, fingers brushing against his. "You saved me," you whispered, your voice still weak but steady. "That's all that matters now."

Five stared down at your hand, his lips pressing into a thin line. For a moment, you thought he might pull away, retreat back into his usual cold, calculating self. But then, slowly, he entwined his fingers with yours, gripping your hand tightly.

“I almost didn’t,” he admitted, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. “I almost lost you. And I—" He cut himself off, his jaw clenching as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. But you could see it in his eyes, the way they glistened in the dim light. He cared. More than you had ever realized. “You didn’t lose me,” you said, squeezing his hand as best as you could. "I'm right here."

Five’s gaze softened, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a tender, almost absentminded gesture. He stood there for a long moment, just holding your hand, as if he was afraid that if he let go, you might disappear again.

“I’m not going to push you away anymore,” he said finally, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t. Not after this.”

There was a vulnerability in his words that made your chest tighten, but this time it wasn’t from the wound. It was from something deeper, something that had been buried beneath all the anger and fear. You nodded slowly, exhaustion pulling at the edges of your consciousness again, but you fought to stay awake, to hold onto this moment.

“Good,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Because I’m not going anywhere.” Five’s lips quirked into the faintest hint of a smile, though his eyes were still shadowed with worry. "Get some rest," he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over your hand once more before he reluctantly let go. "You need it."

You wanted to protest, to stay awake and talk more, but the warmth of the bed and the comfort of knowing you were safe, that Five was there, watching over you, was too much to resist. Your eyelids grew heavy, and before you knew it, sleep was pulling you under. As you drifted off, you felt the lightest pressure of his hand returning to yours, as if silently promising that he wouldn’t leave your side—not this time.

Hope you guys like it ;)

[sturnsdc]

Scared to death

pair: Carl Grimes x fem!YN Dixon

synopsis: a lot of shit is going on in Alexandria, and Yn is about to face one of her biggest fears again when Carl gets hurt.

warnings: angst, typical TWD scenes, fools in love, violence, mentions of death, comfort, fluff, slight smut, character death, brief description of a near-panic attack.

era: (S6)

words: 9,8k

A/N: this one shot is part of a series called “feel special” !!

btw, Yn and Carl are 18 here

'm sorry if u see some grammatical mistakes!! ♡♡

dividers from: @cafekitsune ! ♡

main masterlist carl masterlist

YN'S POV

everything had gone pretty shitty recently, after Rick killed Ron's dad, much of the group, including my brother, went on a mission led by Rick.

that meant that a lot of us had to stay in Alexandria to protect the place.

honestly, that didn't make me at all happy, since i prefer to be there with them fighting, than walking through the almost empty streets of this place, completely alone.

i haven't seen Carl since the morning, and i've been trying to find him for a while but it seems like the earth has swallowed him. However, when i was about to give up and go back to my house, i managed to see Enid between the trees, 'she seems to be crying.'

i decided to get closer, trying not to scare her.

“hey” i greeted her, seeing that my attempts were in vain as she got scared anyway. She tried to wipe away her tears, but we both know it's too late. “Ya' wanna talk about it?”

she remained silent for a few seconds, but then sighed and nodded, that being my cue to sit next to her.

“i just talked to Ron… we broke up, but also… i feel that anger in him. And i try to understand him, because i know he's going through a lot but… that's not Ron, you know what i mean?” i thought about it for a second, trying to remember the interactions i've had with him after what happened with his dad. I nodded as i remembered some of his erratic, angry behaviors.

“yeah, i know what you mean, but did he do somethin' to you?” i asked, worried.

“no, i mean, he got angry, tried to blame all of you, and said that your people had ruined everything... and then he started yelling…” Enid stopped talking, and i saw some tears coming out of her eyes again, so i hugged her, feeling how she trembled

“i'm scared of what he's becoming, i don't want him to hurt any of you” she finally confessed, between sighs and in a low tone. I tensed at the idea, especially thinking about who Ron's focus could be.

“he won't do anythin' to us, Enid, we won't let him, i promise ya” as soon as i finished speaking we heard screams coming from the streets. They were desperate and heartbreaking. A chill ran down my spine.

that sound... is the sound of death.

“run” i whispered to her. Then i stood up, taking her hand to help her do the same.

we started running, and i really thought we would be lucky, but we weren't.

one of the intruders caught up with us, and tried to attack Enid, causing her to let go of my hand and fall hard to the ground. I quickly took out my knife, burying it in his head without a second thought, however, before it fell on her i threw it to the side, looking at his lifeless body with pity.

i, again, took Enid's hand, helping her up. But apparently this attack had attracted attention, as i saw several of his companions coming towards us, armed to the teeth.

“Enid, i need ya to run to Carl's house without lookin back, i'll try to go after ya all the time but if ya don't listen to me anymore, ya keep runnin and if ya see him there let him know that i'm fine and that i'll be there soon, 'kay?" i saw in her face that she was going to protest, so i interrupted her before she could. “Come on, Enid!”

at my scream she started running, and i tried to go after her as much as i could, but they're fast, too fast, so i let go of her hand and started moving slower. She turned to look at me, full of panic.

“Yn…”

“keep runnin, Enid, please!” i saw that she hesitated, but decided to listen to me, making me feel some relief.

it was then that i stopped completely, being surrounded by all of them within seconds. However, those around me don't seem to have guns, only knives and machetes.

“well… shit” i said, and then the first of them tried to attack me. His movements were erratic, even senseless, so i was able to dodge his attempts to kill me, although i didn't escape all of his blows. It was then that i firmly grabbed my knife, burying it in his throat and feeling his blood fall on my face and arms. Then another of them came, who seemed very upset by the death of his friend, but it was precisely that that made him more clumsy, helping me to bury the knife in one of his eyes, which was what killed him.

i continued like this with two more, noticing how now my body (and my clothes) were soaked in the blood of these people.

however, one person is still missing, and he seems to have been biding his time.

i felt the first blow reach my jaw, it was so fast that i couldn't dodge it, and i almost fell from the strong impact, but i managed to stay upright, hitting him in the stomach. My blow seemed to leave him unable to breathe, but when i was about to stab him he straightened up and hit me in the eye, this time making me fall.

he quickly got on top of me, hitting me in the ribs, right where one of his friends had already hit me, making me scream in pain. However i did my best, hitting his balls with my knee, making him get off of me, falling next to me as he screamed in pain. Then i took advantage of the moment, burying my knife in his head.

desperation began to consume me, so i stabbed his head again and again and then i felt myself slowly losing strength in my arms.

then i saw one approaching me, fast.

but he didn't make it, since someone who seemed to be from the same group attacked him, killing him instantly. Then that person turned to see me and ran towards me. I tensed, but soon calmed down when i recognized Carol's eyes among that disguise.

"are you okay?" she asked me, agitated and revealing her face.

“yeah, i am, thanks Carol” i tried to catch my breath “ya look weird with that costume on, holy shit” i joked, watching her roll her eyes and smile.

“you should go to Carl's house, he's with Judith” that made me feel enormous relief, so i quickly nodded, standing up without remembering the hits i had received. It was then that i whimpered in pain, earning the attention of the adult, who looked at me with concern.

“it's nothin… i just got a little beatin here” i shook my head, trying to concentrate to forget the pain for a moment and reach my goal “thanks again, be careful”

i started walking as fast as i could to Carl's house, seeing how right in front of it there was a body lying there. It was one of them, apparently someone had shot him... twice.

i sighed at this, listening as a door opened near me.

“Yn!” it was him, he was shouting to get my attention, so i walked towards him as best i could, almost falling when i was in front of him.

Carl grabbed me in his arms, trying to be careful when he heard me whimper.

“wha-what's wrong? did they hurt you?” his voice was filled with concern as he helped me inside, closing the door behind us.

“there were five of them chasin' us… i had to get rid of them to protect…” then i stopped, looking around for the girl. “Where's Enid?”

“she left, i don't know where and i don't know when, i only know it was after i went out to help Ron.”

“ya kill that man in the street?” i asked in a lower tone

"he tried to attack Ron, so i shot him in the leg but then he tried to take my gun and i... i... shot." i felt his voice shake as he said that, so i hugged him tightly, trying to ignore the horrible pain i felt in the body when doing that.

we stayed like this for a few seconds, in silence, feeling the warmth emanating from each other's bodies until an alarming noise scared us. Carl, who had his face hidden in my neck, soon began to laugh a little, then separating himself from my body to look at me.

“want some cookies?” he asked me, turning to look at the kitchen so that i would understand that the alarm was due to that.

“you're a goof.” i laughed too, then i approached him to give him a short kiss, which was instantly reciprocated.

a couple of hours later, Alexandria seemed to fall silent again. But this time the silence was not accompanied by tranquility, by people enjoying time in their homes, or doing their jobs.

no, this silence was devastating, the kind of silence that exists after a catastrophe. I know this because it's the same silence that has accompanied us from the beginning, since the walkers arrived. Then in the fall of the camp, or at the end of the farm, also in the fall of the prison, and in every shit we've experienced after that.

i tried to ignore it, so as not to get depressed now when it's those here who will need our support to recover from this.

“i almost didn't see you today, i missed you and i was so worried when all this started happening,” Carl said, with his right arm hugging my waist and his left arm stretching out so he could take out one of the last cookies that remained.

we have been standing in the kitchen next to the oven since i arrived, eating cookies and trying to get rid of all the anxiety and adrenaline that this situation brought us.

“i missed ya too…” i was interrupted by the sudden commotion outside. Through the window we saw people running towards the entrance of Alexandria, most of them with worried faces. I turned to look at Carl, frowning just like him.

“i'll go see, you're very hurt.” when he saw that i was going to protest, he interrupted me. “Can you take care of Jude for me?” i stayed silent for a few seconds and then growled in response, watching as he smiled and gave me a little peck on the lips before leaving.

even in this situation i could feel the heat rising in my cheeks and my heart pounding.

fucking Grimes.  

Rick had brought with him half of the horde they had tried to divert on that mission they went on.

Glenn, Nicholas, Sasha, Abraham and Daryl were lost, where no one could find them, and without communication.

the people of Alexandria, in a desperate attempt, try to reinforce the walls, but a voice in my head can only remember the prison, and how that same strategy didn't really work for long.

but i can understand them, so i decided to keep quiet and watch with Carl, who had warned me about this whole situation.

Judith's safe, luckily, but i felt that pang in my chest that made me understand that something was about to go wrong. That's why i haven't let go of Carl, hugging him from his side, feeling his right arm hug my shoulders and his head rest on mine.

i tried everything to distract myself, but nothing seemed to help, so i preferred to stay still, feeling Carl's scent against my body, impregnating my clothes as always and making me feel protected.

we heard footsteps behind us, and suddenly Rick was in front of all of us, being quickly surrounded by the people of Alexandria and our team members. I could only look at him from my position in his son's arms.

“you can hear it, some of you saw it. They got back here, half of them” he started to say “Still, they're enough to surround us and kill us” i saw the faces of the people of Alexandria transform into grimaces of deep fear and worry “i know you're scared, you haven't seen anything like this, you haven't been through anything like this. But we're safe, for now” he was silent for a moment, as if analyzing his next words “The panel that the truck hit seems intact, we already reinforced it, just in case. Either way, the wall is gonna hold together… Can you?” he looked at them all quickly. “The others, they're gonna be back.”

“they're gonna be back,” Rosita reaffirmed, nodding.

“Daryl, Abraham, Sasha, they have vehicles, they're gonna lead them away, just like the others. And Glenn and Nicholas are gonna walk back through the front gate after.” Rick looked at Maggie after saying that, seeing her nod hopefully. “They know what they're doing, and we know what we need to do. We keep noise to a minimum, put up our blinds at night, even better, we keep the lights out." Not far from us i saw Ron, he was staring at Rick, and there was something in his eyes that made me unconsciously tighten my grip on Carl's body, catching his attention.

"you okay?" he asked me in a whisper. I looked at him, taking a few seconds to respond, but finally nodding, returning my gaze to Rick.

“we'll try to make this place as quiet as a graveyard, we'll see if they move on…”

“this place is a graveyard” it was then that someone interrupted him. I saw that soon after Aaron spoke, but i couldn't pay attention, until he mentioned him, Daryl.

“i was out there recruiting with Daryl, and i wanted to… try to get into a cannery and scavenge. Daryl wanted to keep looking for people.” Aaron looked at me, it was a look of guilt “We did what i wanted, and we ended up in a trap set by those people” He looked back at the others “And i lost my pack, they must have followed our tracks. Those people who attacked us… they found a way back here because of me”

Rick said something to him, and i know more things happened, but i could only hide my face in Carl's neck, feeling his caresses on my back in a way of comforting me while i just sighed.

i'm not mad at Aaron for this, i'm just… tired. And i need to find Enid, i'm worried she's out there. I know what she's capable of, but i also know what people and walkers are capable of.

i also worry about others, i worry about the walls of this place.

but there's something that scares me, and it's Ron. The look i saw in him was so cold, indecisive, but dark. That wasn't the Ron who greeted us when we arrived, who made bets with Carl, or who showed us around.

without realizing it we had arrived at Carl's house again. I guess he helped me walk here, noticing my lack of attention.

“Carl…” i sighed, entering and walking with his help until i reached the sofa, where i sat down with difficulty due to the pain in my ribs.

“what's wrong, babe?” he was still standing, now stroking my hair.

“we have to find Enid, she's out there, alone, with all that danger…” i started to panic while i was talking, getting Carl to put his hands on my shoulders, getting my attention.

"i'll go, i'm not gonna let you go in this state, it will be more dangerous for you than for me or her." when he saw that i wanted to say something he stopped me "no, baby, there are no other options, you're hurt." he kissed me to prevent me from speaking. I just responded to his kiss, relaxing my body by having my mouth against his. He knew that would happen, because i felt him smile against my lips, and then he separated and kissed me on the forehead. “i'll be fine, and i'll come back without any problems.”

however, Carl returned just a couple of minutes later, angry and agitated, with his clothes somewhat disarrayed as well as his hair.

“what the hell happened to you?” i stood up and walked over to him carefully, fixing his hair as i heard him sigh.

“i saw Ron, i asked him if he knew anything, but we ended up arguing, he pushed me, i pushed him, whatever, he said he would tell my dad, then he would go out and look for me, people would go with him and someone would die.” He sighed again, angrily “He said something about saving me, i'm sorry i couldn't get any further but i can still try…”

“no, babe. 's okay. Let's wait for this to calm down a bit. Let's trust what Rick said and then we can both go look for her, 'kay? i'm sorry for gettin' ya in trouble.” he shook his head, denying.

“you don't have to be sorry.” he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling my body closer to his in the process.

i hid my face in his neck, leaving a few kisses there, knowing that it would take away some of his anger, and distract him from this whole situation.

he may know me perfectly, but i have my tricks too.

today Rick and Carl were teaching Ron how to shoot. I didn't want to be present, because i know that my entire body will be on alert if i spend a second next to him, so i preferred to take a walk through Alexandria, like the last time.

i still have that feeling in my chest, like something's about to go horribly wrong. I don't know what it is, and i really hope it doesn't have to do with Daryl, but i feel like it's getting worse with every passing second.

last night i stayed at Carl's house, but even in his arms i couldn't sleep. The pain was so overwhelming that i felt like i couldn't breathe, but i didn't want to wake him up for that. I don't want to take away his rest just because of a feeling i'm having. 's not worth it.

but now, as i walk through the streets, accompanied by silence, i can only think about the things that have happened and that can happen. And the pain gets worse, so i bring my hand to my chest, wrinkling my shirt as i squeeze it tightly. I can't breathe. I can't.

my vision became blurry, i feel like my throat was burning from my desperate attempts to breathe. I had to stop, standing in the middle of the street. My legs are shaking, hell my whole body 's shaking.

i feel so cold, but i'm sweating. The knot in my chest is getting bigger, more intense, i don't even remember where i was going, what i was doing before this.

i feel dizzy, my eyes open wide from the panic that consumes me, my legs feel numb, my fingers hurt, i wanna throw up, i feel my heart beating so fast.

'am i having a heart attack?'

i can't move, i feel frozen.

'is this how i'm going to die?'

'i don't wanna die, not now'

‘'n-no, i don't want to, it can't be happening, it can't...'

'I DON'T WANNA DIE'

“Yn!” Carl's voice brought me out of my thoughts. I saw his face, he's worried. He put his hands on my arms, trying to get my eyes to meet his. “Yn, baby, it's me, it's Carl.”

i tried to look at him, to focus my sight on him, but i feel like i can't, my vision is blurry, i can only think about how much my throat burns, how much my body hurts.

“Yn, babe” his hands went up to my face and i could finally feel his warmth.

i sighed, shaky, but i was finally able to focus my eyes on him. His hands wiped my face, and it was then that i noticed i was crying. My tears were hot, completely different from how i feel right now.

i sobbed when i saw his eyes, feeling stupid and strange.

“ 'm sorry, i'm so sorry” i sobbed again, feeling how he hugged me.

“it's okay, you're safe, i'm here,” he said, in a low, sweet, charming tone.

my head was resting on his chest, so i could hear his heart beating. That's what i heard last night when i was trying to calm myself down, but now it finally seems to work. My heart started to beat slower, but my body started to feel heavy, like i had pushed my body to the limit.

“i... i don' know what happened, i thought i was goin' to die, Carl, i thought...” i whispered, feeling his caresses in my hair.

“you're not going to die, i'm not going to let that happen,” he said firmly.

i'm still shaking, i still feel that huge pain in my chest, but my tears have stopped, and i don't feel so dazed anymore. I just want to go home with Carl.

but apparently life doesn't want that, since as soon as it seemed like i could calm down, people ran towards the gate again. Between their conversations i understood that Spencer had tried to leave, but clearly his plan went wrong and they had to save him.

i just sighed, staying still in Carl's arms.

“do you wanna walk for a while? then we can go to my house. Carol must be taking care of Judith right now, so we'll be alone.” i nodded, separating myself from his body so i could take his hand, following him wherever he wanted to take me.

his thumb caressed my hand, making me smile a little. He always does that, he knows perfectly well the little details that make me feel better.

'i don't know where he learned it from, but damn it works.'

we finally arrive at an incomplete construction that we sometimes use to distance ourselves from the rest. Almost no one goes there because it's a pile of wood with nothing “attractive”, but for us it is a good place to feel some peace, to get out of the house.

“we should find a place like this out there when everything is safe again, don't you think?” he said, leaning his body on a railing as he put his hands on my waist, moving me so i was facing him, just the way he likes it.

“i would like that, it would be like... our place, fer dates and to hang out” i saw him smile.

“i'd love that.” he brought his face closer to mine, but before kissing me he looked behind me, stopping his actions. I saw the sudden fear on his face, so i quickly looked back.

the tower…the tower is falling.

shit happens so fast.

when the walkers came in, Carl and i ran, tried to defend, and ended up in the same group as Rick, Deanna, Michonne, Ron, and Gabriel. There are quite a few of us, but i don't know if we're enough to get to a safe place soon.

we found ourselves surrounded by walkers, i had my knife in hand, and the others seemed terrified but ready to defend themselves. But before we could do anything, the walkers in front of us fell as a result of gunshots. Soon Jessie, Ron's mom appeared in front of us.

“come on, i have Judith!” she said and we followed her until we entered her house which was right across the street.

Judith quickly ended up in my arms, while Michonne and Rick carried the injured Deanna to the second floor so they could lay her down. On the other hand, i heard Jessie yelling at her youngest son, Sam, to turn off the music and draw the blinds.

'this whole thing 's a disaster.'

i walked for a moment with Jude in my arms, trying to stop her crying until i finally succeeded. When i did, i took her to the second floor, where the crib that Jessie uses when taking care of her is and i decided to leave her there, receiving a look of approval from part of Rick.

“they bit Deanna, i need you to tell them while we stay here taking care of her and covering everything, okay?” he told me, trying to seem as calm as possible. I nodded and went down, not knowing exactly what to say about it.

when i got downstairs, Gabriel, Ron, and Carl approached me, all with panicked expressions, and i guess my face isn't much better.

“Deanna…” i cleared my throat “she got bitten, so the others will stay upstairs to take care of her and finish covering the windows”

“oh God” Gabriel covered his face with his hands, walking away from us. Ron seemed to go blank, and Carl looked at me sadly.

i couldn't keep looking at them, not now, so i ignored the pain in my ribs and the pain in my face, quickly going to try to cover the first floor windows. Carl was the first to help me, and then the other two did the same.

'we need to protect this place, 'cause it may be all that's left for us after this.'

“let me help you, you're still hurt despite the medication Denise gave you,” Carl said, helping me place a dark blanket on one of the windows.

i try to forget it. It's not the first beating i've received, and i definitely can't remain useless and do nothing, not now.

i heard Judith crying again, so i looked at Carl, who nodded, letting me know that they'll take care of the first floor.

i took the steps two at a time and walked quickly down the hallway until i reached her. I sat next to her crib, on a chair in the room. I sat her on my lap, but i didn't know what to do, i didn't know how to calm her down, and that's when an idea came to my mind and i cleared my throat, trying to abandon my shame so i could help her.

i tried, i tried to sing softly the first song that came into my head, so with my sweetest voice i began:

“you are my sunshine, my only sunshine

you make me happy when skies are gray

you'll never know , dear, how much i love you

please, don't take my sunshine away”

i learned that song from Carl, and it always seemed to help Jude, so i tried my best, and she seemed to recognize the song, because immediately her crying calmed down, and her eyes began to slowly close. I could only watch her, unconsciously smiling at the purity of that girl.

'as long as i'm alive i'll do my best to maintain as much of that purity in ya as i can, Jude. Ya deserve a better life than this.'

i sang to her some more, making sure she was completely asleep before i could put her back in her crib. And when i did, i returned to the reality that was being experienced, because Rick and Jessie ran down the stairs, and i understood that it was because of a loud noise coming from the first floor.

'Carl'.

trying not to wake Judith, i left the room and ran down the stairs, reaching where the adults were gathered.

“Carl!” Rick yelled, and Jessie did the same with her son's name.

from the noises we can all guess that they're fighting, 'but why the hell?'

“Ron!”, “Carl!”

“Carl open the door!”

they continued yelling, until Rick decided to use his axe, breaking the lock on the door so he could open it. When he managed to do so, he entered the place, yelling at them to get out while the walkers entered through the windows. Then with difficulty i helped Jessie and the boys keep the door as closed as possible, until Rick and Gabriel brought a couch to help, although it didn't seem to be of much use.

“we need more, and we need to be quiet,” Rick said.

Michonne, who had just come down, offered to find more things.

“me too” Ron said, agitated.

“i'll help,” Carl said, to which i looked at Rick, who looked back at me with the same expression of distrust.

“hey, what happened in there?” he asked Carl as we continued to hold the couch.

“we were looking for tools and a shelf fell over,” he said, but none of us seemed to believe him.

“we heard yelling,” Jessie said in an accusatory tone.

“yeah, Ron saw them break the gates, we had to move. That's what happened”

“there are uh… nightstands in my mom's room, they can help with the couch” Ron said, approaching Carl. I looked at him with a frown, feeling my body on alert.

'if he touches Carl...'

“hey, it sounded like you were fighting,” Jessie told her son.

“yeah, we were fighting them!” Ron replied, going upstairs to avoid more questions.

Carl let go of the couch, ready to go after Ron.

“Carl, 's everythin' okay?” i asked him this time, searching his eyes so i could more easily tell if he was lying.

“yeah, everything okay” he barely looked at me as he said it, instead he walked up the stairs to follow Ron.

at this i looked at Rick again, tilting my head to the side, with an expression that let him know that i don't believe them.

“do you wanna go with them?” he asked me.

i thought about it for a moment, but i know Carl can handle it, even better than me, so i shook my head, denying.

“no, 's okay, he can handle it” i finally answered.

when we finally close that door we started to worry about the main entrance, because all the noise called out a large part of the horde, causing many of the walkers to try to destroy the other door.

this time we put in a mattress, and for a moment it seemed to work, but that's when Judith started crying.

“i'll go,” Rick said, noticing that i was about to go look for her. He looked at me for an answer, so i nodded, watching him leave.

the bad thing is that Jude's crying only attracted more walkers, complicating things even more, so Carl and Ron had to bring a table when the door gave way, breaking completely.

“Rick!” Jessie called out to him, noticing that our efforts didn't seem to be enough.

Michonne noticed the moment when another of the doors broke, allowing the walkers to enter the house.

“everyone get upstairs, now!” she ordered us, trying to give us time while she killed some with her sword.

“back off!” Rick motioned to us, so we all dropped our things and ran towards the stairs.

i watched as he and Michonne blocked the stairs with the couch, giving us a little more time to think.

i looked at the walkers, there were too many of them and they might catch up with us eventually. We can't stay in this house for long, especially knowing that Judith and Deanna are here. But we can't jump out of the windows either, because there would be more of them below, because we could fall badly, because Judith could get hurt.

'but what are the options?'

it was then that my head lit up, remembering a disgusting technique that we had already used in the past, and that maybe could save us now.

“Rick!” i called out to him, making everyone turn to look at me “we can use 'hem, take out sheets and use them. Ya know it works, it can help us” i saw him consider the idea for a moment, and then he nodded, looking at Michonne.

“i'll take care of this one, i'll leave you the one in the back,” he told her.

“Gabriel, go get sheets, we need one for each of us” i indicated to the man, seeing him nod and walk towards the rooms.

“i'll help him,” Jessie told me, to which i nodded, watching her leave after him.

"what are we gonna do?" Ron asked me, somewhat desperate.

“we're gonna use the walkers to smell like them,” Carl explained briefly, but he didn't seem to understand.

“wh-what?”

they already had the two walkers, so we couldn't answer his question, instead i helped carry the walkers, while Rick told Carl to stay guard the stairs and Ron followed us.

“i need the sheets,” i told them, watching Jessie come over with one.

"what are we gonna do?" she asked, watching how i made a hole in the sheet.

“we'll go to the armory,” Rick responded, somewhat agitated by the effort.

"how?" she asked again.

“we're gonna cut these things” Rick told her, in a rather simple way to tell the truth.

“we're gonna cover ourselves with the insides.” i told them this time, watching their faces transform into grimaces of horror. “that will mask our smell, we'll make them think we're like them.”

for a moment they were silent, looking at me in horror.

“we've done it before, 'kay? 's gonna work and 's our only viable option right now, so just bring the damn sheets,” i snapped.

“we'll stay calm, we don't draw attention, and we can move right through them,” Rick said more calmly, watching Gabriel arrive with more sheets.

“they're in the house, they're making noise. More are coming” Michonne told them this time.

soon the two of them opened the bodies of the walkers while i was in charge of making holes in the sheets. Once that part was done i passed three sheets to Ron and Jessie.

“everyone needs to put the sheets on, even Sam, then we'll cover ya. Whoever stays here will die.” i explained, watching them silently take the sheets.

a few minutes later we all had the sheets on us, including Carl and Sam. We were just finishing putting the guts in them so there's no doubt it's going to work.

“ya smell horrible,” i told Carl jokingly, helping him cover himself. He laughed and raised an eyebrow, looking at me mockingly.

“you smell worse” i smiled at his words.

"shut up"

Rick went to look for Judith, and when he returned i lifted Carl's sheet. We had agreed that he would have her hidden there. She had a scared expression on her face, so before lowering the sheet i gave her a kiss on the forehead.

“we'll be fine, Jude. We won't let anythin happen to you” i whispered to her, making only Rick, Carl and her hear me. She looked at me, and reached for my hand, so i gave it to her for a moment, squeezing hers gently. That seemed to comfort Judith, so she let go of my hand and let me lower the sheet. Carl watched me throughout the entire process, which made me a little nervous. “wh-what?” He just shook his head, smiling.

"nothing".

Rick then stepped forward, moving the couch silently, revealing the house full of walkers. Then Carl went after him, and i after Carl. We all walked in a kind of line, passing unnoticed among the dead until we reached the main entrance.

once outside we stopped for a moment to observe the streets full of walkers.

'that's where we'll be walking now. We just have to hold on a little longer.'

Rick took Carl's hand, he took mine, and i took Jessie's. We all held our hands in the order we left the house, and so we would have to continue.

i think i heard Sam call Jessie, but I really hope that's not the case. I know he's scared, but if he keep talking he can get us all killed.

'please, Sam, just shut up.'

we had been walking for a few minutes, now we could only hear the grunts of the walkers. My hand occasionally squeezed Carl's hand, receiving a light caress in response. It was his way of telling me to be calm.

suddenly Rick stopped behind a bush, making us all stop walking, drop our hands and look at him.

“alright, new plan” he whispered. “flares from a few guns aren't enough. Too many walkers, too spread out. We're not going to the armory. We need our vehicles back at the quarry” He explained, while Carl and i looked around, watching for no walkers to approach. “All of us drive, we need around them up, we leave, we come back.”

“okay,” Jessie said. “But Judith, to the quarry and back…”

hearing this, Carl and i turned to look at Rick, noticing that he was looking at Gabriel.

"i'll take her. I'll keep her safe in my church until you all lead the walkers away,” Gabriel said.

"can you do this?" Michonne asked him.

“i'm supposed to. I have to.” he replied.

Carl carefully handed Judith to Gabriel, and when she looked at me before lowering Gabriel's sheet i nodded.

“you'll be okay, Jude,” i whispered, pulling down the sheet.

then Jessie took Sam's arm and looked at Gabriel. “Take Sam,” she told him, but the boy immediately refused, scared. “Yes, Sam, it'll be safer.”

“i'm not leaving you,” Sam answered, and when Jessie was going to protest he spoke again, “Mom, i'm not. I can keep going” his gaze seemed to harden, making the woman sigh. “Please.”

after that, Gabriel said goodbye to us, assuring us that he would do what was necessary to keep her safe, and then he headed towards the church.

we had to leave again, so we held hands again, although this time in a different order. Now Rick held Sam's hand, the boy held his mother's, she held mine, i held Carl's, he held Ron's, and Ron held Michonne's.

we started walking, but soon the day began to go away, and with it the light. We were bathed in darkness, trying to guide ourselves with the light of the moon and stars, without making noise so as not to attract the attention of walkers. Although it had been a long time, i didn't feel tired, and i try at all costs to ignore that pain in my chest that keeps me on alert.

'i'm not going to fuck this up, not me.'

i wonder if the smell is still as strong as when we left, but the answer is probably no, because the blood eventually started to dry a little, and that's probably what made some walkers watch us for a few seconds longer than normal. But they continued on their way, and that's what made me feel most relieved.

but apparently not everyone thought the same, since without realizing it, Sam was also thinking about the looks, about the possibilities, and he began to be filled with a panic that soon exploded.

Sam let go of Rick's hand and started to back away.

“S-Sam?” Jessie tried to gently pull his hand to bring him back to reality, unconsciously also squeezing my hand. “Come on, come on, sweetheart? Sam? you can do it,” the woman told him, in a low but desperate tone, refusing to let go of her son's hand.

“Sam, come on,” she said

“come on, come on, Sam” Rick tried too.

“Sam, you can do this, look at mom,” Ron said this time, almost whispering, but desperate.

“Sam, honey, i need you to come with me” but Jessie's words didn't seem to have any effect, as the boy soon began to cry, sobbing loudly, beginning to attract the attention of the walkers.

“i want to,” Sam said, but he was still frozen, crying.

“i need you to be strong,” Jessie said.

but it was all in vain when suddenly a walker jumped on Sam, biting his cheek and making him scream, calling for his mother. The scene was horrible, and i started to feel nauseous just watching it. The walkers kept coming, biting Sam and covering his face with blood and bites.

Jessie couldn't let go of her son's hand, and instead she also seemed to freeze, crying loudly at the loss of her son, she even started screaming, and that was what made me try to let go of her hand. But i couldn't, she squeezed me too hard.

“Je-Jessie, Jessie” i tried to call her, but she kept screaming, drawing the attention of more walkers “Jessie please, come with us” i begged her, but she wasn't listening, she was just screaming and holding my hand tightly.

the inevitable happened. The walkers attacked the blonde, who didn't even let go of my hand at that moment, making me panic. I couldn't let go without attracting their attention.

Carl tried to help me, but that caused us to attract the attention of a walker.

“dad!” he called to Rick, who silently took his ax and walked towards us, repeatedly hitting the wrist of the person who used to be his lover with it. When he finally cut her hand, the force made me fall, bringing Carl with me.

what we didn't notice is that the gun Carl was carrying fell in the process.

well... apparently someone did, and quickly took it while we were getting up.

the sound of the gun safety was what caught our attention. We looked back, seeing Ron holding it, pointing it at Rick.

“you…” he said, and again there was that cold, broken look in his eyes.

a chill ran down my spine, and then Michonne's sword pierced Ron's body, killing him in the process. But despite his death, he had his finger on the trigger... and he clumsily fired just as the life was escaping his body. I closed my eyes for a moment, startled by the sound, but when i opened them, i felt my blood freeze, i thought i was dying.

Carl slowly raised his head, then showing that the shot had hit one of his eyes, leaving a hole of blood, blood that ran down his face as he tried to look at us.

"dad?" i heard him say before he fell. I tried to grab him as best i could, and panic came over me as i received Rick's help to lift him up.

“Rick, we have to… we have to take him to Denise, please” i sobbed, watching as the man carried his son in his arms. He didn't respond, but he started running in that direction, so Michonne and i passed him, clearing the path of walkers.

'Carl…please, you have to be okay, you have to be'

then i understood the panic i had felt these days, the horrible feeling that haunted me.

'i can't lose him, not him. Not him.'

memories of the farm came to my mind, when they shot him and i had to see him in that bed, not knowing if he would survive that.

i buried my knife in every walker that tried to get close, without even thinking about it, just doing it.

'i need him to get to Denise, i need her to help him.'

right now the beating doesn't matter, my ribs don't matter, none of that matters. All i care about is getting him help.

'he's everything to me, i can't do it without him.'

we saw the door to the infirmary open, Denise had seen us, she was ready. We let Rick enter with Carl, and after him i entered with Michonne.

ny face was wet from the amount of tears i didn't even realize i had shed, Aaron looked at me, worried and trying to understand, but i couldn't look at him, only at Carl.

“please save him” i begged Denise, almost in a whisper, and at my side Rick did the same.

Denise turned on the light, and although Spencer tried to complain she quickly silenced him. It was then that i looked at Rick, who seemed to be in a trance as Michonne removed the sheet from him.

as soon as i handed my sheet to Michonne, Rick seemed to make a decision, as he grabbed his ax and left the infirmary. Michonne yelled for him to come back, but he didn't listen.

i don't know exactly what it was, but something told me to go with him, to follow him, so that's what i did. With my knife in hand i left, closing the door and beginning to kill each walker that crossed my path.

i couldn't feel or think. My ears were blocked and my hands were numb.

there was blood, and more blood, and more blood. My body seemed to float. Nothing hurt me, nothing weighed me down.

every head of those walkers had the mark of my knife.

i don't even know when Michonne and the others joined us, i could only continue killing.

Aaron, Heath, Spencer, hell, even people came out of their houses, out of their hiding places.

Eric, Olivia, Rosita, Morgan, Eugene, Tobin, Carol, Tara, hell, even Gabriel were here fighting. There were so many people around us, when suddenly a fire started on the lake, catching our attention. In the distance i saw a truck, but i couldn't see who had caused it.

many of the walkers started heading towards the fire, but Rick yelled at us to not let our guard down, as some were still trying to attack us.

we gave it our all, we pushed our bodies to the limit to protect this place and kill every one of those damn walkers.

we ended up covered in blood, but we were all still alive.

'Carl'

then it dawned on me and i ran towards the infirmary again, without looking back, without paying attention to the screams. I don't even know how long we were outside, but it seemed like an eternity until we were finally able to finish them off, so i wasn't that surprised to walk in and see that Denise was putting a bandage around Carl's head.

" 's he alive?" Rick walked in when i asked the question, just as agitated as i was.

"he's alive, but he lost a lot of blood. It's gonna be a long recovery... and he'll need a lot of support from everyone. Things will be very different and difficult for him when he wakes up.” she told us, then looked behind us. “I need to move Carl to another room, but is anyone else hurt?”

“i-i don't know,” Rick replied.

we both moved Carl to the nearest room, putting some chairs near him so we could wait for him to wake up.

“i'll go thank her,” i said to Rick in a low tone, to which he nodded, still quite disoriented.

“hey, Denise, thank ya so much for savin' him…” i stopped in my tracks and my eyes opened wide. Daryl was entering through the door of the infirmary, and after him the others came with small smiles, looking at me attentively. “Dar…” i blinked a couple of times, and then i ran into his arms, being instantly reciprocated, although i heard him complain a little.

“i was so scared, i missed ya so so much” i mumbled, trying not to let the others hear us. My voice broke as i spoke.

“i'm here now, girl. Ya don' have to be scared, ya know i'll always come back” he told me, in the same low tone, caressing my back.

“i need to heal your brother, Yn, can i?” Denise interrupted us with a guilty expression, to which i nodded, separating myself from him and wiping the tears from my face . “Do you need me to adjust the bandages on your ribs again?” this time she asked me, making Daryl look at me with a frown.

“i'll tell ya later,” i said, then looked at Denise. “i'm fine, now i'll go back to see Carl. I wanna stay until he wakes up. Thank ya... again” She nodded, now forcing my brother to sit on another stretcher.

when i came back, Rick was talking to Carl, so i decided to give them a moment, but when he finished, he noticed me at the door, so he got up from his chair and walked over to me.

“i think... i think he's conscious, i don't really know.” and after saying that he left for a moment, leaving me alone with him.

i went straight to sit down, gently taking his hand.

“hey…uhm, i hope ya can hear me or i'll really feel like a fool.” i tried to joke, but my voice betrayed my nervousness. “i hate seeing ya hurt. I really thought i was going to lose ya this time, ya scared me to death” i sighed, bringing his hand to my lips, leaving a small kiss on the back of his hand “i don't know what would happen to me if ya weren't here, Carl, and i know that ya would say that i can continue, that i'm strong, but the truth is... that it would destroy me not to have ya anymore. Hell, ya can break up with me, hate me, but at least ya'd still be here. If that weren't so… i couldn't, Carl, i really couldn't.”

i felt his hand squeeze mine gently.

“if ya can really hear me, i want you to understand that i love you too much, Carl. And i don't care if i have to help you all the time now; i also don't care about the scar left on yer face. You're still you, you're still the boy i fell in love with, you're still the boy who makes me feel at home." i felt the lump form in my throat again, but i tried to ignore it. "In my eyes ya have always been and ya'll always be the prettiest boy, so don't try to walk away when ya fully wake up. Don't even try to tell me anythin bad about yerself, 'cause God, Carl, if i have to tell ya on repeat every part of ya that i like and why, i will do it even if it takes me a long time to do it, and ya'll have to sit there listenin' to every word" i moved in my seat so i could kiss his cheek. “ 'm gonna be here in every step ya have to take, in every advance and in every retreat. On good days and bad days. I don' care about anythin else. I'll be here for ya just as ya are fer me.”

i heard a noise coming from the door, and i noticed that Rick, Michonne, and Judith in her arms were standing at the door. All three of them were smiling, and i felt my face heat up when i noticed that Rick looked like he wanted to cry.

it's been a few weeks since the last incidents in Alexandria, and everyone's recovery has been a complicated process, especially for Carl, who's still trying to get used to calculating distances or following a fixed point with only one eye.

when he woke up the day after the event, he was crying with anguish, and the first time he tried to walk and hit himself on a chair, he didn't want me to see him, and i had to spend the entire day without being able to see him.

now things are different, he doesn't feel so embarrassed by things like that anymore, but he hasn't even let me see him without the bandage. I just give him the time he needs, and try to remind him how valuable he is.

yesterday i came back from a run with Daryl, and as a gift i brought him some comics i found in a store. I haven't seen him smile as much as yesterday in a long time. My heart was beating so fast, i even felt like i was blushing to see him smile like that!

today i promised to go see him early at his house, so now that's what i do, walk through the front door of Carl's house, going straight to his room, where a loud melody was coming from.

of course, since he found a player he spends his time listening to music in his room. Today's song was “More Than a Feeling,” accompanied by the hitting of a tennis ball that Carl uses for his pt, as Denise instructed him.

“hey” i stuck my head out the half-open door, watching as he quickly turned to see me, smiling.

“hey! come in.” and that's what i did, closing the door behind my back and then walking up to him while he threw his tennis ball on the ground.

his arms surrounded my waist, and mine surrounded his neck. Soon his lips met mine, and i sighed with joy as i felt his warmth merge with mine. I brought my body as close to his as i could, also tilting my head to deepen the kiss, hearing him grunt in the process as he did the same.

his lips are so soft, fluffy. God, i could kiss him all the time. His hands caressed my waist, squeezing it gently. Shortly afterward he separated a little. I could still feel his breathing, so i whimpered in discontent, wanting to continue what we were doing, but he just laughed lightly.

“calm down, babe.” he kissed my forehead. “Actually, i wanted to ask you something.”

“uh? sure, babe. What do ya need?”

“could you help me change my bandage?” he asked me, but before i could answer he interrupted me “you don't have to if you don't want to, i can ask Michonne, i just…”

“Carl, babe, i'd love to help ya, come on.” with my head i pointed in the direction of his bed, so he nodded, sitting on it.

"are you sure?" he looked at me intently, and i could see the fear, which made my heart ache.

“of course i'm sure, every time ya want me to help ya, ya can ask me, that's fine” i told him firmly.

“thank you,” he said in a lower tone. I know this is a big step for him, and from the way i see him playing with his hands i can tell he's very nervous, so i hurried to find the box on his nightstand that has the bandages, and the disinfectants.

after that i settled between his legs.

“can ya hold this fer me?” he nodded, so i handed him the new bandage and the alcohol. “Now i'm gonna remove the bandage you're wearing. If ya want me to stop at some point, just tell me.” and that is what i did. I carefully untied the knot of his bandage, removing it gently in case something hurts him or if any part of the fabric is stuck to his skin. Once that step was ready, i used a bow that i had on my right wrist to prevent his hair from covering the wound and complicating my work.

for a second i admired his face, and felt the heat rise to my cheeks. Carl is beautiful, not only on the inside, but on the outside as well. I'm always looking at him, but this time it feels different, more intimate.

“you're perfect,” i whispered, almost to myself, but i knew he heard me when his cheeks flushed. Even over the music he was able to hear me, which made me a little nervous, so i cleared my throat.

i began to clean the wound, disinfecting it and putting all my concentration into not hurting it or doing anything wrong.

“ya can tell me if ya feel like it's too tight. 's my first time putting a bandage on someone other than a Dixon, and we're not the best reference to practice somethin like that." i tried to joke while putting the new bandage on him, hearing him laugh at my comment.

“it's perfect, thank you.” i took off the bow and he took care of putting the things on his nightstand quickly, returning to the position we were in, although this time he took me by the waist and made me sit down on his lap “Thank you for everything you do for me.”

“i'd do anythin fer ya, Carl.” i confessed, watching the smile form on his face once again.

“i'd do anything for you too, Yn, never forget that” i nodded, feeling happy.

it was then that he suddenly kissed me, making me gasp. The kiss was intense like the one a few minutes ago, but this new position made me feel different. The heat little by little went down to the inside of my panties, making me whimper and move my hips, rubbing against Carl's crotch.

it wasn't long until i felt something getting hard, and then i knew he felt the same way i did. His hands helped me move, now messier. Small moans came out of me, and he took advantage of that moment to put his tongue in my mouth, making the kiss deeper, more desperate. One of his hands moved to my ass, squeezing it. But it was when i was going to unbutton his pants that we heard a voice.

“Carl!” Rick called him from his room. We barely hear it over the music. Carl pulled away from me, grunting and his dick aching.

"what!? i’m doing pt!” He lied, making me laugh lightly as i moved from the position we were in, sitting next to him, still somewhat agitated and feeling my panties wet.

“i can't hear you, come here!” Rick replied, so Carl looked at me, and i laughed when i saw the anger and frustration on his face, as well as his lips red and swollen from the kiss.

“go on, or he'll come for ya.” he sighed, getting up from the bed with resignation, and moving his shirt so that it covered the bulge in his crotch.

“when i come back you're gonna have to take care of what you caused,” he said, making me clench my legs as the heat returned to me. He seemed to notice this, as he smiled, and before leaving the room he gave me a kiss “be a good girl and wait here. Don't do anything” he said, and then went out to see what Rick wanted.

i sighed, flustered by what he said and my face as red as a tomato.

oh…and now feeling uncomfortable because of my soaked panties.

[redrose10]

Here is Chapter 12! Sorry for the delay. I am feeling better, but I am still a little behind so I’m hoping the next chapter can be posted in a few days. We’re getting closer to the end!

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word count: 2,053

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

Tag List: @gimeow @kam9404 @viankiss @baechugff @gaby-93 @kayleefriedchicken @igot7fairlyoddparents @jalexad @drrookie

Yoongi was too stunned to move or even speak. You on the other hand were impatient and wanted to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible. Already with your shoes and coat on you walked back over to Yoongi jingling his keys in front of him, “Come on. Let’s get going.” When he still didn’t move you slammed the keys down in front of him, “Now Yoongi!”

He instantly jumped up and hustled after you. He had to admit he was really really starting to love this new take charge no bullshit Y/N.

Once in the car you punched in the address that Namjoon sent you and Yoongi began the drive over.

“What exactly did Namjoon say?”, he asked finally breaking the silence.

“I’ll let him explain everything, but I think that Suri used him to try and get to me so that she could have you.” Yoongi tried to comprehend, but you didn’t even give him the chance to ask for clarification.

“I just don’t understand what her problem is. Is it really worth ruining so many lives to keep you? I mean no offense Yoongi. You are really attractive and you can be nice when you want to be and you do have money, but aren’t there any other rich idiots she can chase after?”

Yoongi looked over at you with his brows furrowed. He wanted to take offense but you were right in a way so he knew it was best to let that one go. Instead he chose to focus on you calling him attractive instead bringing a slight tint of pink to his cheeks. He knew himself that he was attractive, but something about hearing you say it did something to him.

The two of you arrived at your destination and hastily made your way to the front door knocking several times. A few minutes went by before the door swung open revealing a somber Namjoon. He invited you both in offering some drinks before taking a seat on the couch. You and Yoongi sat across from him.

“Thank you both for coming here. Suri doesn’t know this address so there’s no way she could possibly show up. I wanted to make sure of that.”, he said clearing his throat.

“No problem. I think you should start from the beginning to catch Yoongi up on everything that happened and then we can go from there.”

He nodded, “Okay so I guess I’ll just get right to it then. The first time I met Suri was several months ago. I was leaving your place after one of our lessons and she was waiting for Yoongi out in the hallway. We talked a little and that was it. I met her a few more times in similar situations and each time we’d talk a little more. Then this one time Yoongi and Suri were coming back from doing you know what while I had just spent the evening comforting Y/N.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, “Oh please. If you were so innocent in all this we wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

“Yeah well if you weren’t a womanizing cheating asshole then none of this would’ve happened to begin with.”, Namjoon spat back.

“Both of you stop it. This isn’t the time to act like children’.”, you shouted feeling overwhelmed by their bickering.

Namjoon and Yoongi glared at each other before continuing, “Sorry Y/N, you are right. Anyways, Suri asked if I wanted to grab drinks that night. I didn’t but I wanted to find out more about what Yoongi was up to with her so I agreed. After a few too many drink I let it slip that I was starting to develop feelings for Y/N but she told me that she would never cheat and wasn’t able to leave Yoongi. Suri told me that she had a way to make it so that Y/N wouldn’t want anything to do with Yoongi outside of what was required of her. At the time I thought she was genuinely trying to help me, but looking back it was clear she was just using me to get Yoongi for herself. She started asking me for information about the two of you that she could use. That’s how she knew about the cologne that Y/N had made. She knew that the two of you were going up to the cabin so she really increased the amount of texts she sent hoping that Y/N would come across it. She knew that Y/N was going to be at the charity auction and got Hwan involved.”

“Wait, wait, wait, so did you know that Hwan was going to come after me at the auction?”, you asked feeling hurt that he would possibly put you in danger like that.

“Uhh kind of. He was supposed to just say some creepy stuff to you and then I’d swoop in and chase him off so you’d feel safe with me and be upset with Yoongi for not being there for you. But he wasn’t supposed to follow you outside or actually touch you. He took it too far and then I couldn’t find you anywhere in the building. I know it was a really dumb idea and I don’t know what we were thinking.”

You scoffed, “Yeah you think? Thank God Yoongi was there to save me unlike you. I can’t believe you Namjoon!”

“You’re right Y/N and I’m sorry.”

What about the baby situation?”, you asked after taking a breath and wanting to move this long

“So a while ago she came up with this crazy plan to get pregnant by Yoongi. She really thought that was the key to force him to stay with her. I told her that was taking it way too far, but she didn’t care. She stopped her birth control, but never said anything about it. She would complain constantly that Yoongi refused to touch her without a condom. She came up with this ridiculous idea to have another guy get her pregnant and then say the baby was Yoongi’s. I told her she was fucking nuts and that would never work. I was getting to the point I wanted nothing to do with her or this plan. But I honestly didn’t think she would go through with it. Then one night she came over to my place really upset. She said she had just left Yoongi’s office and he had once again told her that their relationship was over. He was going to work on his marriage and that started with cutting her out of his life. He even had security remove her from the building when she wouldn’t leave. She seemed pretty devastated. I felt kind of bad for her, but honestly I was more relieved that she wouldn’t be able to go through with this crazy pregnancy plan. I asked her if she wanted a drink and one drink turned into two and then three and so on. Well one too many drinks later we ended up in my bed together. The next month she told me she was pregnant and was going to tell Yoongi the baby was his. We both knew I was the father based on the last time she had slept with anyone else and I wasn’t going to let her take the baby away from me. Then when we were at the police station she showed me the sonogram and that she was going to tell Jin about it. I got upset and told her that I wouldn’t let her take my baby away from me and if she told Jin about it then I would tell you both about her whole entire plan. So when I found out from Hwan that she went through with it after I had left I decided to call you.”

Your head was spinning round and round. You felt like you were in some kind of weird soap opera. You looked over and Yoongi looked just as shocked as you felt. “Surely she won’t let you get away with this that easily. What is going to happen to you?”, you asked turning your attention back to Namjoon.

“Well I’m definitely going to loose my job since I work for Hwan’s company now.”, he chuckled.

“But I don’t even care any more. There’s an innocent baby involved and I’m not going to let her continue this mess.”

He reached to the side table next to him and grabbed a brown folder. He handed it over to you before leaning back into the couch, “In this folder is everything you’d need to use against her. Copies of texts, emails, voicemail transcripts. There’s a copy of the prenatal dna test we had done that shows the baby is mine.”

Yoongi took the folder and began flipping through the papers humming and letting go of a sigh everytime he saw something interesting.

“I mean this is great and all, but there’s still the issue of the mixtape.”, you said.

“There is no tape.”, Namjoon spoke.

Yoongi and yourself both looked over at him with wide eyes.

“What?!,” you said in unison.

“Yeah she told me all about that and how she wished she still had a copy of it because it seemed to be the only thing that really scared you. Apparently there was a big data breach at her dads label a couple years ago. Some hackers got in trying to access account information. They had no choice but to wipe every system completely clean loosing a ton of music and other files. For some reason they didn’t have any backups. She said the label almost went bankrupt until they debuted that girl group. You know, Old Jeans or New Beans or something like that.”

You lightly chucked at his lack of pop culture knowledge.

He continued, “But yeah there is no tape. She’s been lying to you about it for years.”

Carefully you peaked over at Yoongi. His face was so red he almost looked purple. He was gripping the folder so tightly his knuckles were turning white. Slowly you reached over trying to not startle him and grasped his hand into yours.

“Umm so what do we do now? We can’t just tell her to stop it. If she’s willing to go through all of this there is no way she’s going to just backdown easily.”, you asked.

The three of you sat in silence for a while pondering your next move.

“I have an idea.”, Yoongi finally spoke before getting up. He extended a hand out to you and you accepted following after him towards the door.

Namjoon followed closely behind. “Thank you for coming clean Namjoon but I think we should take a break in our friendship.”, you said before walking off towards the car.

Yoongi walked just outside the doorframe before turning back to Namjoon.

“I’ll handle it from here. Thank you for providing us with the documents.”

“Sure if you need anything else just let me know.”

Yoongi went to walk down the few stairs leading to the walkway before turning around and making his way back up using his hand to stop the door just before it closed.

“Oh and Namjoon.”

The door swung back open and he gestured for Yoongi to continue.

“Stay the fuck away from my wife.”

He turned and walked back down the steps and over to his car where you were already waiting. Gently he placed the folder in the backseat before putting the car in reverse.

He was silent on the drive back to his place and you didn’t want to push him. Once he parked the two of you sat in the car for a while. Yoongi nervously drummed on the steering wheel.

“Hey are you okay?”, you asked concerned with his lack of emotion.

“Yeah I guess I just can’t believe I’ve been so stressed about this stupid mixtape when it didn’t even matter. I thought I’d feel relieved, but I’m just having a hard time processing it.”

“So what is your plan? How do you know it’ll work and not make things worse?”, you asked reaching over for his hand.

He chuckled before looking over at you with a smirk, “Oh it’ll work Y/N. But uh you are definitely not going to like it.”

[yanderes-galore]

Hiii! Can I request a Yandere Concept for Maki Harukawa from Danganronpa please?

Sure! I never really finished V3 but I did do my research as usual! Can't believe so many people hate her....

Yandere! Maki Harukawa Concept

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Violence, Attempted murder, Blood, Manipulation, Overprotective behavior, Isolation, Implied dubious turned forced companionship/relationship.

Maki is someone that's very hard to approach, especially in this setting.

It's normal to be distrustful of people in a Killing Game.

It's easy to think someone somewhere is plotting something, it's just a matter of time before someone strikes.

Maki is already quite isolated and deceptive, which can make many people wary.

First of all, she hides her true talent from people.

She Isolates herself and can come off cold towards others.

She isn't a people person.

Even towards her obsession at the start... She doesn't really want to be around anyone.

As the Killing Game goes on, she only really trusts Kaito and Shuichi.

She may trust her obsession similar to how she trusts those two.

Although... It's shown that Maki isn't good with relationships of any kind or social situations.

At a young age she was forced to kill.

Which doesn't do well for a child when it comes to social life.

She struggles with friendships, let alone relationships.

Around her obsession she'd struggle to understand her feelings.

She likes your presence of all people but isn't sure how to approach.

Maki doesn't like the thought of hurting you in any way.

Be that emotionally or physically, she doesn't want you hurt in this game by her or anyone else.

I feel at first Maki would want you to keep your distance due to this.

She knows you'd be better off if you didn't befriend her.

Others may suspect you of something and you could get into unnecessary trouble.

She hates unnecessary trouble.

Although... You still manage to be both persistent yet respectful.

Your interactions are often a bit cold, yet Maki tries not to cause too much damage with her words.

Please... She doesn't need you crying because she said something a little bit rude.

Don't misunderstand her rude behavior, she wouldn't take joy in bullying you.

She's just trying to wall herself off from you.

She likes being alone and your conversations are brief.

But she can't help but listen in on conversations where you're mentioned.

Just because she knows she shouldn't be close to you doesn't mean she won't listen in on you.

Maki most likely cares for you in her own way, she just isn't sure how to properly show that.

Speaking with Maki, if you can even call your early conversations that, is difficult at times.

She's another who's hard to read and she likes it that way.

It saves her from having to explain her internal turmoil about you with you.

Maki would eventually become friends with you, but not without scouting you out first.

She quietly watches you from a distance, noting how you interact with others.

She's cautious, knowing you could be a potential target.

She learns about you through these... "observations".

She's no doubt skilled at it due to being the Ultimate Assassin, even if no one knows that.

Even when she gives in and becomes your ally, no doubt due to Kaito encouraging her when he notices her concern for you, Maki is still wary of others around you.

She's not the most trustful or trusting person, which makes her suspect your fellow classmates of planning something.

Maki's intentions can be left dubious for this due to how she is with relationships.

She'd want her obsession safe, and out of anyone here, she may be the best suited for that due to her Ultimate.

She doesn't plan on murdering anyone, yet she'd quickly be the one to prevent it if you were the target.

So in terms of her yandere type, she's mostly lucid and would be defensive.

She rarely takes her eyes off her obsession, often looking for anything suspicious.

For the longest time she thought she wasn't worthy of relationships.

She's a murderer, yet has people standing beside her.

She knows you probably deserve better... especially when you're trapped in a Killing Game.

Maki may use her true talent to her advantage, never making the first move yet stepping in to pull you from unwanted situations.

Anything from awkward conversations to threats... Maki steps in and offers to drag you out of it.

Most people may not target you due to seeing how Maki watches you like a hawk.

She even feels anxious when she sees a bit of blood on you, even if it was due to an accident.

Maki may even sacrifice sleep at times to make sure no one picks you off.

No one matters more to her than you.

She doesn't care where your dorm is, she's going to find a way to monitor you somehow.

If anyone attacked you or plotted to harm you, Maki's there in an instant.

Even more so if her Ultimate has been revealed.

She's quick to pull the knife out, standing in front of you with a feral glare in her eyes.

The blood on her clothes would always be out of defense.

Jealousy doesn't typically occur in her, if it does, she hides it.

Maki may subconsciously isolate you.

It's instinctual to her due to the situation.

You could easily fall victim here if she's not with you.

Be you friends, or something else, Maki would rather be executed due to protecting you than watching you die.

She can't believe she cares for someone this much.

But anything is better to her than watching the person she cares the most about covered in blood.

She's violent towards others at times due to her paranoia.

She cares about you... so she often holds a softer gaze and tone with you.

She feels that she's the only one capable of caring and protecting you.

Maki isn't necessarily possessive, even if she may come off like that when she threatens other classmates.

She's more... protective.

She watches over her obsession like a protective guardian, fitting of a caregiver regardless of how she feels.

It may go against the rules, but she may keep you in her dorm at times.

You may want to leave... and you can... but she's with you the entire time.

She isn't the most affectionate person.

She shows she cares via her protection and soft praises.

It isn't a lot... but to her it means so much more than words can describe.

Maki would do anything to make sure she doesn't lose someone she cares about again...

Even if it means she doesn't live to see it.

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Slowly But Surely

Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader, BRIEF!Steven Grant x Fem!Reader

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

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F1 Masterlist

The dimly lit bar buzzed with the hum of conversation and clinking glasses as I mingled with my coworkers. It was one of those rare nights when we all managed to gather outside of work, and the atmosphere was light and jovial. Steven, Marc, and Jake had all been supportive of this social outing, and I had assured them I’d be okay on my own. Tonight was supposed to be fun, a chance to unwind and let go.

I glanced around the room, spotting a few familiar faces—friends from work chatting with their partners, laughter echoing over the music. I was caught in an animated conversation with a colleague, Dan, who had always been friendly but seemed a bit too forward tonight.

“You know, you really light up the room,” Dan said with a grin, his eyes lingering a bit too long on me. “It’s amazing how you manage to stay so upbeat all the time.”

I laughed it off, trying to maintain a friendly but professional demeanor. “Thanks, Dan. Just trying to keep things positive!”

Despite my attempts to keep the interaction platonic, I could sense a shift in the air. Dan’s gestures were a little too lingering, his compliments more frequent. I glanced around, searching for a familiar face to anchor me in this situation.

That’s when I felt a presence behind me—powerful and intense. I turned to see my boyfriend, Jake Lockley, his expression tight with something I couldn’t quite place.

“Hey,” I greeted him, hoping for a familiar anchor amidst the growing discomfort. “Did you have a good time?”

Jake didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he fixed his gaze on Dan, his jaw clenched. It was only then I realized something was off. His eyes were dark, his posture rigid, and there was a dangerous edge to his silence.

Before I could process what was happening, Jake’s hand closed around my arm, gripping it firmly. “We’re leaving,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

I blinked, trying to read the situation. “Jake, what’s wrong? We’re just having fun.”

He didn’t answer, his grip tightening as he began to lead me toward the exit. I tried to pull away gently. “Jake, please, what’s going on?”

He ignored my protests, guiding me out of the bar with a determined stride. The cool night air hit us as we stepped outside, and I felt a mix of confusion and unease.

Once we were home, Jake’s demeanor shifted dramatically. The moment we walked through the door, his anger exploded. He paced the living room, his hands balled into fists, his face red with frustration.

“Why did you have to flirt with him?” Jake shouted, his voice echoing through the house. “Do you think this is some kind of joke?”

“Flirt?” I asked, my voice trembling. “I was just being friendly. He’s a coworker, Jake!”

“You think I don’t see what’s happening?” Jake roared. “You’re not just being friendly! You’re betraying me! You’re betraying Marc and Steven, too!”

My heart raced, my emotions swirling in a storm of confusion and hurt. “Jake, I don’t understand. Why are you saying these things? I love you. I’m here with you.”

“Love me?” Jake spat, his eyes wild. “You don’t love me! You’re just playing games! If you loved me, you wouldn’t be so easily swayed by some flirty guy at a bar!”

I felt a sharp pain in my chest as his words cut deep. “Jake, stop it. You’re scaring me.”

“You know what?” Jake continued, his voice rising to a shout. “Just stop pretending. If you’re cheating, just leave! Get out! You’re just a slut who can’t be trusted!”

The insult hit me like a physical blow, and I could no longer hold back the tears. I collapsed onto the couch, sobbing uncontrollably. The man I loved, the one who I thought understood me, had just shattered my heart with his cruel accusations.

Just then, Steven’s presence shifted into the room, his face softening with concern. He sat beside me, wrapping his arms around me in a comforting embrace. “I’m so sorry, love,” he murmured. “Jake is just… he’s scared. You’re the only person he’s ever let get close to him. He’s terrified of losing you.”

Through my tears, I looked up at Steven, struggling to speak. “I don’t know if I can forgive him… I don’t know if I can trust him again.”

Steven’s eyes were full of sadness. “I understand. But Jake’s actions come from a place of fear and insecurity. He loves you more than anything, and he’s afraid of losing you.”

Steven held me tightly until I eventually fell asleep, the weight of the evening finally catching up with me. As I slept, I could hear muffled voices, and though I couldn’t make out the words, I sensed the intensity of the argument.

When I woke up the next morning, I was greeted by the smell of breakfast wafting through the house. Groggily, I made my way to the kitchen to find Jake standing there, his face etched with regret.

“Good morning,” he said softly, his hands shaking slightly as he set down a plate of pancakes. “I… I wanted to make breakfast for you. I’m so sorry about last night.”

I hesitated, feeling a mix of anger and apprehension. “Jake, I’m not sure I can just… move past what happened.”

Jake’s eyes filled with tears. “Please, Y/N. I regret everything I said. I was scared, and I let my fear take over. I love you more than life itself, and I’m terrified of losing you. You mean everything to me.”

His vulnerability was painful to witness, and I saw the sincerity in his eyes. “You’ve hurt me deeply, Jake. I need to see that you can change, that you can control your jealousy and anger.”

Jake nodded, his face a mask of anguish. “I understand. I’ll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust. Just please don’t leave me.”

I took a deep breath, feeling the heaviness of the situation. “I’m willing to work through this, but it will take time. You have to show me that you can handle your fears without hurting me.”

Jake looked relieved, though his face remained etched with remorse. “Thank you. I’ll prove to you that I can change. I promise.”

As the days went on, Jake made a concerted effort to address his jealousy and anger. He attended therapy and worked on managing his emotions. It was a long and difficult journey, but with Steven and Marc’s support, he slowly began to make progress.

I remained cautious, but I saw glimpses of the man I had fallen in love with beneath the layers of insecurity and fear. It wasn’t easy to rebuild trust, but we were both committed to making our relationship work.

Jake’s apology breakfast was a small but significant step toward healing. It wasn’t the end of our struggles, but it was a beginning—a chance for us to rebuild and grow stronger together. The road ahead was uncertain, but I was willing to walk it with him, hopeful that our love could overcome even the deepest wounds.

[safficranger]

Fake Scenarios In My Head #15

Casey stood in front of the mirror in her walk-in closet. Her eyes wandered over every detail of her reflection, her nervous hands smoothing the folds of her dress or flicking away invisible dust.

"Now I look like I'm going to a funeral," she said, trying to keep her voice from sounding whiny.

"I hardly think so," came Olivia's voice from the phone, which Casey had put on speaker and placed on a nearby shelf.

"Makes me look pale. Add a dark veil, and you can call me 'Widow Casey.'"

"Now you're being dramatic," Olivia laughed. "Want to send me another picture?"

"No, I'm changing!"

"Or should I come over?"

"Can you please stay on the phone a little longer?"

"Sure." It sounded like Olivia was holding back a sigh. Casey felt a pang of guilt for keeping her friend on the phone so long.

She pulled out another dress and stepped back in front of the mirror, holding it up to her body. "Okay, this one... it's... blue. Do you remember the wedding last summer? I wore that dress."

"I remember, yes. A very nice dress. Blue always looks good on you!" Olivia's voice came over the speaker.

Casey turned from side to side, critically examining herself from all angles. "I don't know... It just doesn't feel right."

"Casey, what's really going on?" Olivia finally asked. "It's not just the dress, is it?"

Casey paused, her eyes meeting her own reflection. She swallowed hard, and her voice was barely a whisper as she replied, "I think I'm scared. I feel out of place. I don't belong at fancy dinner parties."

Olivia's voice was soft and reassuring. "You're worrying too much. Everything will be fine. You're amazing, and everyone will see that. Trust in that."

Casey took a deep breath. "I don't know, Liv. A gala dinner with cocktails afterward. What does that even mean?" She spoke faster, her voice growing more anxious with each word. "Why did Alex even invite me? I'm just going to embarrass her. I'm Cinderella in a stolen dress."

"Casey, you're exaggerating. Don't sell yourself short. You know Alex wants you by her side because she loves you."

Casey sighed, fighting the nausea rising within her. "Her father will be there," she finally said quietly.

"Oh," there was a brief silence on the other end of the line. "Now I understand," Olivia finally added.

"What if I'm not good enough?"

"Alex loves you, and her father will see that too. It's understandable that you're nervous, but you have nothing to fear," Olivia replied sympathetically but firmly.

"I... know." Casey's thoughts swirled, and she couldn't bear to look in the mirror any longer. "I... need a shower. I'll call you back later." She put the phone back to her ear. "Thank you, Liv."

"You're welcome! Let me know if there's anything else I can do," Olivia responded gently. "And please, don't drive yourself crazy."

Casey ended the call and closed her eyes for a few moments. Taking deep breaths, she tried to control the nausea and at least slow down her thoughts.

"Olivia is right, love."

Casey froze, her back still to the door, startled by her girlfriend's voice.

"How long have you been standing there?" she asked uncertainly.

"Long enough." Alex stepped behind her, gently wrapped her arms around her waist, and pulled her closer. "You look beautiful in that dress." She kissed Casey's shoulder softly. "You're clever, intelligent, charming, warm, and..." the second kiss moved towards Casey's pulse point. "...did I mention you're hot?”

Casey could feel the tension in her body begin to ease. The safe embrace of the woman she loved, her soothing voice, and her gentle kisses worked wonders.

"You don't have to feel obligated to take me with you," she still couldn't shake her insecurity.

"I'm not. I invited you because I'm proud to have you by my side. Because you're my girlfriend." Alex reassured her.

Casey slowly turned around in Alex's arms so that they were facing each other. She searched Alex's eyes for the truth behind her words and found only sincere affection and love. Alex brushed a strand of hair from her smiled warmly.

"Your father... I..." Casey began, but Alex smiled gently and interrupted her.

"He's not as bad as you think. And I'm sure he'll love you."

"But what do I have to offer? I don't have a big name, no..."

"Casey, please." Alex interrupted her again. "None of that matters to my father. He's not looking for a new business partner."

"What matters?" Casey asked quietly.

"I love you! And you make me happy. That's what really counts. That's what my father really cares about," Alex explained emphatically.

"I love you too." Casey felt her insecurity slowly melting away.

"And to quote Olivia again... Don't sell yourself short. You're an impressive woman, Casey. You've achieved a lot and have a big heart."

"Now you're flattering me," Casey said with a shy smile.

"Just stating facts." Alex kissed her gently and felt Casey snuggle against her.

"Better?" Alex asked, and Casey nodded with a wide smile.

"Good Girl." Alex's lips curved into a mischievous grin. "Did I hear correctly that you want to take a shower?"

Casey blushed slightly and nodded. "Yes, I thought it would help me relax."

"How about I join you and make sure you really relax?" Alex's voice was soft and seductive.

[chock-and-bates]

hello hello i just finished reading your break-up sex fic and it's killing me not knowing what happens next because it's so obvious that they love each other so much but they don't know how to communicate well so could you please please tell me what will happen to them 🙇🏻‍♀️😭

I've gotten a few messages about this and so I'll use this one to reply to all of them!

Thanks to everyone who read and liked my fic morning comes (and you're not my baby)! If you wanted to find out what happened after the open ending, you're in the right place. I'll always tell people to imagine the ending they want, but I also understand the need to just know, so I'm happy to tell you what I picture happening next.

Sooooo I was just going to have a brief summary of what I think happened and I'll include that in the TL;DR under the cut... but I also did what I always do and went a little crazy in my notes app and wrote a 1.7k outline/ficlet (with some 🌶️ so be aware).

Check it out if you're curious!

TL;DR: They have a friends with benefits thing going but keep it super vague. But they begin growing really close throughout the rest of the season, and the lines are getting blurrier and blurrier. When Max offers Charles a key to his apartment they finally have to confront what they mean to each other and they realize the pain of a possible break up is way, way preferable to the agony of being apart. They agree to try again, promise to fight for each other, and kiss ❤️

Ficlet/Outline Time: Okay here is what I picture happening in a much more in-depth way:

- The bad communication continues and they are basically fuck buddies for the rest of the season. But, like, way too tender fuck buddies if that makes sense. They fuck nasty, but most of the time it’s absolutley more like making love. Definitely messes with both their heads but they refuse to just talk because it’s still scary and they need to focus on the season.

- Definitely begin hooking up whenever they’re in Monaco, but they do their best to keep it to only once a week or so (thinking that limiting contact will help them, haha yeah right). They always sleep over, but Charles is proud of them for the fact that they’ve both managed to leave every time, even if it’s getting progressively longer each morning that they just stay in bed murmuring quietly and playing with the pets of whoever’s apartment they’re in. 

-They’re together at some point pretty much every race weekend from Mexico on, and for the final two races of the season Max starts to ask Charles to share a room with him for the whole weekend. He says it’s because he sleeps better when Charles is beside him (such a step forward in communication, we’re so proud of you Max) but Charles knows it’s also because he’s leaning on Charles for emotional support in the championship fight. They’ve been having a lot of pillow talk on that subject, and Max has been surprisingly open. Charles tells himself it’s okay because they’re friends with benefits, and you help your friend, so he agrees easily. 

-(He tries not to think about how they’re already communicating better, tries not to give himself hope that maybe they could get back together.)

- After the final race, they definitely spend the night together (please god, let it be celebration sex instead of sad sex, I beg) and Max refuses to let Charles leave his side the next day. They fly back together, holding hands almost the entire flight. They still aren’t talking about what they are.

-Of course this is when Charles starts to panic. And he says he’s going to put some more distance between them over the break. Briefly he thinks about ending it again, but like a sign from the universe, he gets a text from Max asking him to come over and he very quickly realizes he’s not strong enough to end it anytime soon because he’s already replying that he’s on his way and packing an overnight bag.

- Things get very domestic, very quickly over the break, and Charles and Leo begin to spend a lot of time at Max’s. They’re really reconnecting on every level now, not just physical, but they. Still. Won’t. Talk.  Charles is so torn because on one hand he’s so happy and content but every night he’s just an anxiety ridden mess because he feels like he’s setting himself up to be absolutely destroyed.

- The holidays come at the perfect time (or so he thought). Obviously they’re going to spend a lot of time apart to be with their families, but instead of this being a good thing Charles is absolutely miserable without his man, enough so that he starts texting Max, who immediately responds, making it obvious that he was feeling the exact same way. 

-Their daily check-ins of course evolve into texting each other at all hours of the day and then eventually phone calls at night, during which Charles ends up fully admitting “I miss you a lot.” much to his embarrassment, but Max immediately and eagerly says it back and takes it a step further and says they should go on vacation together before the end of the break. The spark of hope in Charles’ chest is absolutely brutal, but he still agrees.

- As soon as they are both back in Monaco they race to see each other again, they’re so desperate. Don’t end up leaving bed for the entire day. Things are said...

[- “Can’t stand being away from you,” Max whispers to him between kisses as Charles adjusts to having him inside, “Need you close to me, baby.”]

[- “You were all I thought about,” Charles gasps when Max begins to thrust into him, so gently, but staring at him so intensely, “Tried not to, but I could not help it. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think. God, Max-”]

- They’re kind of timid on the second day, almost shy around each other again after how intense they were yesterday, but Charles still doesn’t feel like he’s ready to leave Max quite yet (or ever bfr) so he offers to make him breakfast.

- While he’s in the kitchen Max comes up behind him and asks if he can give him something, it’s a key to his apartment. Max wants him to have it so he can stop by whenever he wants and he tentatively continues that he thinks it would be good if Charles moved some of his clothes in so he doesn’t have to leave all the time and Max can start to clear out the space in the closet-

- Charles cuts him off with a strangled “Max.” and they both just stare at one another in absolute stillness.

- Charles’ heart is pounding out of his chest, his flight or fight is kicking in, he’s so overwhelmed and the first thing he says is “I can’t do this anymore Max.” Poor Max looks utterly devastated because it sounds so bad, and even Charles doesn’t really know if he means he can’t do this as in be together at all or this as in be friends with benefits and not be together.

-He tries to leave the kitchen to run away from confronting all of this but-

- Thank god, Max snaps out of his and steps in front of him, blocking his path. He clenches his jaw, staring Charles down and asks him to explain.

-“Charles, you’re not leaving this apartment without explaining what you mean. Can we just- can we just be honest for once?”

- And that’s exactly what Charles has needed to hear for over a year, because suddenly the floodgates open and he’s practically shouting “I can’t do this anymore because I’m in love with you, Max. I love you so fucking much and it is the most awful things because we agreed that we cannot be together. But now you are going and-and saying we should go away on vacation and holding my hand and giving me a key. I cannot keep away from you but I can’t- I can’t-”

- Max, who had been listening, stunned as soon as Charles started shouting., suddenly crosses the kitchen and cups his face in his hands. Charles tries to flinch back but Max just follows him, cooing at him as he steps closer, until they’re practically pressed together,  “Charlie listen to me, listen to me. I’m in love with you too baby. I love you so fucking much, I never stopped, I swear. You’re all I want, all I think about, I can’t keep away from you either, baby, but we don’t have to, don’t you see?  We don’t have to keep pretending like this is…whatever the fuck we thought it was. I can’t fucking do that anymore, I want to be with you, all of you. We can try again.”

-Of course this sends Charles into shock, “But- we agreed it was for the best-”

- Max bites back, “I don’t care, Charlie. We were wrong, and I’m not going to sit back and let us be miserable just because we made a stupid decision.”

- Then they would finally have the long, long time coming talk about the real issue, and both would have to admit how fucking terrified they had been of giving the other person that power over them and how distraught they would be if it ended. But Max begs Charles to trust him not to hurt him, and Charles immediately assures Max that he does which is oh- kind of an eye opener for him. And Max tells Charles he trusts him too. 

- “Charlie, please,” Max just looks so heart-breakingly sincere it’s killing Charles, “Even if something crazy happens and this explodes in our faces, I would rather take the pain of it ending over what it was like without you. I’ll fight for us, every fucking day, if you will just give us another chance.”

- And Charles can’t take it anymore so he flings himself at Max, hugging him tight and burying his face in his neck, Max holds him back just as tightly, and they stand in the kitchen embracing and rocking together.

-”When we slept together in Mexico,” Charles finally draws back to look at him, “You said you would never let me go again.”

-Max nods, leaning down so their foreheads are pressed together, “I meant it.”

- “I’m never letting you go either Max,” Charles says, deadly serious, “I love you. Forever.”

- Max can’t stop himself from kissing him then, obviously. And once again they don’t really leave the bed for the rest of the day.

- Charles accepts the key, and then ends up pretty much moving in later that month because they can’t stand being apart. They manage to socialize their little fur babies together and they are a very adorable family.

- Their friends and families are thrilled for them because none of them really understood why they broke up in the first place since Max and Charles would just say it was a mutual decision and “for the best”. Everyone tells them how much happier they seem.

-Now that the ‘big issue’ has been acknowledged their communication improves tremendously, and, no, things aren’t perfect because that’s unrealistic for any couple let alone two men in F1, but they tackle the issues together and overall things are easy and loving between them.

- They definitely get married, don’t you worry ❤️

Ooof, that was fun! Thanks so much for reading and all the interest in seeing how these things ended. I’ll be back with more stories soon.

[olinblogin]

Will you write a Yandere azure lion x fem reader please?😃

Yees :3

I’ll be real I had a bit more of field day on this one making the reader fight back :3

YANDERE AZURE LION X FEM!READER

(TW/CWs — bad ending, reader stabs Azure in the eye, brief detailed gore, reader doesn’t reciprocate)

All was quite well in the brotherhood, banquets each night, lighthearted stories from Wukong of his endeavors in the celestial realm… it was quite nice.

Being the only woman in the brotherhood was actually a bit funny, especially when fighting. Enemies would just assume you couldn’t fight because of the sheer fact you’re a woman, and then you end up kicking their asses proper.

It was another night sat around the table, you were sat between Macaque and YellowTusk. Wukong was telling one of his stories once more, one you’ve heard dozens of times. Even if the amount of times you heard it was likely in the triple-digits, it was still enjoyable. Though you couldn’t help but zone out.

You’ve been recalling how odd Azure Lion has been acting lately.

You’d catch him staring, and he’d always turn his head away quickly.

It got to the point where tonight you made a mental note to confront him of it. Eventually dinner passed, everyone was doing their own things.

You made your way to Azure, tapping his arm. He fur on his arm immediately stood on end, head whipping around to look at you. “Oh— [Y/N]! My apologies, I didn’t see you..” he said with the underlying tremor of nervousness in his voice, ears flattening with embarrassment. “Azure, could I talk to you in private for a moment? I want to speak with you about something.” You said, not acknowledging his statement. He nodded deftly, following you as you brought him into a nearby clearing in the forest where you could speak with privacy.

“Azure, you’ve been acting odd lately. What’s going on?” You asked, crossing your arms and tucking them close to your chest. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you are talking about..” Azure would say with avoidance, playing dumb and averting his gaze.

“Don’t act so coy. You know what I’m talking about. Especially earlier… you keep looking at me strangely and you get all weird when I talk to you. What is your deal?” It’s obvious that Azure did not expect to be confronted about this at all.

His shoulders were tense and he let out a little sigh, deciding to get it over with and say what he wanted to say for the longest time.

“It’s because I.. [Y/N], I think I love you.”

There was a long silence passing by the two of you.. you truly didn’t know what to say… you’d have to let him down softly; you didn’t feel the same way.

“I’m sorry Azure but.. I really don’t feel the same way. I hope we can stay friends..?”

Azure’s ears flattened.. but instead of understanding his face twisted with anger; his muzzle wrinkling in anger at your rejection, no matter how kindly you had rejected him.

“You dare defy me..?! If you won’t accept my confession willingly, I’ll make you accept it by force.”

Azure tried to reach out and grab you, to which you acted quickly by pulling out a knife you smuggled form the dinner; plunging it deep into his eye.

Azure howled in agony as you twisted and dug the knife into his eye. You ripped it out with force. Azure stumbled back, nursing his now severely injure eye as blood and vitreous humor pouring down his face.

Eventually you got ahold of yourself, snapping out of your shock… you turned on your heels and dashed quickly into the forest, never to be seen again by the brotherhood, or anyone for that matter.

Yet Azure kept nursing his now destroyed eye, staring off in the direction you ran… he didn’t chase after you. It was futile anywho; you were one of the swiftest of them that is… he deeply regretted everything. He regretted lashing out and trying to grab you; scaring you so bad.

“I’m sorry [Y/N]. I’ll find you eventually, my dear.”

[harlowtales]

Reader finds out she is pregnant and doesn’t want to stay hidden in Jack’s life. She gives him an ultimatum.

18+ Drama and Adult Themes/Sweet🤱🏽🤰🏽👶🏼

The news that you were pregnant had Jack over the moon, but he could tell it wasn’t what you wanted at this time “Its not the greatest timing but we’ll make it work.” He said as you were having a tense conversation about keeping it or not. You were holding the test wondering what to do.

“Look I’m not ready” you said. “It’s still early in the game. Why don’t we just take care of this quietly, and we can move on” you were always better at being pragmatic than he was.

“What the fuck are you telling me? What does take care of it quietly mean?” He felt anger starting to bubble up and wanted to remember the state you were in. He couldn’t imagine his mother finding out she almost had a grandchild. Plus he loved you. “Early in the game? This is not a game” he said pulling you close and rubbing your belly. “This is my daughter” he said lovingly.

“Whoah. How do know that?” You said pulling away a bit. “I’m not sure this is what I want Jack.” You saw Jack’s face change. You knew he was so confused and you were concerned he would blame you for derailing his career. White Men Can’t Jump was such a big hit that now he was getting offers left and right. Plus you had your own business going. A child was not in your plans. But it was Jack’s baby making this extra hard because you loved him so much.

“You would be a great mom” he said trying to reason with you. “You’re smart, we make enough money…”

“We don’t even live together Jack. We tried that remember? You said bitterly

“That’s because it became a frat house and the guys don’t even spend much time there anymore. With a baby around they would respect that.” He said “If we do this you have to move back in.” He insisted “Look at me please?” He tilted your chin up with his hand and looked into your eyes. You started tearing up. “What is it?” He pleaded “What can I do to change your mind?”

“Stop flirting for starters and we go public” You said decisively. You looked at him bracing for his protest as it was a constant issue. The way Jack acted everyone on the internet thought he was single and he never talked about you to the press. He sat there for a bit. What you were proposing was a total commitment. You had to play hardball. Jack had a history of being evasive. You didn’t want to hold a gun to his head, but you weren’t going to stay hidden as the mother of his child.

“Hardball huh?.” He said. “ It’s fair, but that means you cut all ties with old boy. No running to him if we hit a rough patch.” Jack countered. You sat there contemplating what to say. Guys never get completely rid of their options. If Jack thought you were falling for that he had another thing coming.

“Ok, lose the problem 3’s numbers. Unfollow them. Even you know who.” You shot back. He knew who the problem 3 were. If you were left without a safety net, he had to do the same. You weren’t worried about randoms, but these 3 girls had staying power causing problems in the past. You and one of them had come to a brief understanding but the other two were huge bitches always trying shit.

“Ok. Deal.” He said much easier than you thought.

“Ok?” You said surprised. “That was too easy” you thought suspiciously.

“To have my family together? My own family? Fuck them.” He said decidedly “They’re nothing but a headache anyway.”

You had prepared for more of a fight and didn’t know what to say. Jack saw how thrown off you were. And smirked a little feeling a sense of victory. “So….” He said pulling you back and unfolding your arms. You melted as you always did when he said sorry or saw something your way. “Soooo?” He asked planting a kiss on you. “Are you making me a father or not?”

You hesitated to answer. Your concerns were real, but you could tell he really wanted this. Jack was a family man and a determined man. He he was close to his family. You weren’t with yours. His family became yours. They took you in and always made you feel welcome. Lately you had even had some heart to hearts with his mom. She said she knew how Jack could get and said she would talk to him and set him straight. It really helped and Jack had been making more of an effort ever since. “My mom told me to get my shit together.” He said “I get it now and I want to be there for you… and our daughter.” He promised.

This had you in full in tears. He held you close now until you stopped sobbing. “I know you’re scared. You didn’t have a family, but I am not going to abandon you or our child. My mom would kill me!” He joked trying to lighten the mood as he always did. Jack couldn’t stand tension. He wiped the tears streaming down your face. “Are you wearing the makeup from your brand baby?” He asked

Jack was random but this was really random. “Uummm yeah” you said through your sniffles “Why?”

“Because none of your mascara is running with you crying! I can endorse this product. Unfortunately I have put it to the test.” He said giggling.

His blue eyes twinkled and dimples flashed beneath his beard that was a perfect combination of being scruffy yet manicured. He had you in the palm of his hand and you hated it. It was then you knew that you wanted with all your soul to see his baby with those eyes and that dimple that you would share. This was a whole life with him. “Jack” you finally said having calmed down.

“Yes baby?” He said

“Ok.” You said

“Ok!?” He said excitedly

“Yeah.” You said “Ok, let’s do this!”

“Holy fuck! I’m a dad?” He said looking at you with all the hope he ever had

“Yes. You’re a dad.” You said smiling rubbing your tummy with the pregnancy test still in your hands.

“Fuck yeah!!!!” He exclaimed loudly flinging you around “Oh shit sorry baby.” He said carefully putting you down. “I’m calling my mom, and Urban, and Clay.”

🏷️ Tag List

@itsyagirljaz @jacks-daycare @killatravtramp @ride4harlow @jackmans-poison @heavyhitterheaux

[deityoftherain]

now that you've won - Traffic Life Winners Fanfic

Rating: Gen

Relationship: Gen & M/M*

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Status: Completed Oneshot

Word Count: 4,603

Summary: They never tell you what happens after you win one of the games. Grian, Scott, and Pearl never talk about it so Martyn had nothing to bounce off of when he found himself alone in an endless purple void.

aka all of the winners of the life series/death games end up talking in the in-between

*There is some past Martyn/Ren mention and some Martyn/Scott sprinkled in there, but is otherwise just the winners vibing in a void

I GOT A REALLY CUTE DOODLE FOR THIS FIC GO CHECK IT OUT

@lynnospen on Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/lynnospen/743504217925451776/now-that-youve-won-ananxiousghost-3rd-life (wow back when that was my ao3 username... so long ago but also not at the same time)

Full fanfic underneath the cut! Please reblog, leave kudos on the AO3 fic slash notes/likes here on Tumblr, comment either place, and etc if you enjoy the story :D

Martyn gasped as he exited a portal he didn’t remember going through. Where was he? What was the last thing that happened? His brain was a little foggy but he was starting to get very brief flashes of memories pulling themselves to the front of his brain.

“Welcome, Martyn InTheLittleWood.” Voices (yes, plural) seemed to be echoing around the wall-less void. The Voices felt like They were bouncing around his head and there were so many different voices speaking at once that he knew he couldn’t place them if he tried.

The united welcome seemed to be the only thing the Voices agreed on saying for everything else said was just too many different voices saying too many different things.

Martyn pressed his palms against his ears, trying to block out the words being spoken around him. He had tried to understand what They were saying but he failed. It was too loud and too jumbled. He wished for Them to quiet for They were overwhelming and he disliked it. Martyn squeezed his eyes shut and ducked his head as if that would help him not hear Their loud muttering anymore.

The Voices slowly started to go quiet to the point Martyn could no longer feel Them invade his brain and assault his mind. He hesitantly uncovered his ears and opened his eyes. The Voices had gone silent and there was nothing around him but a shadowy purple void. The portal he came through wasn’t there anymore so he seemed to be stuck here. It was light enough to see his body clearly but dark enough to make him feel enclosed. He could easily admit that he didn’t like this situation so far.

There was some sort of concept of gravity here (wherever here was) for he could walk as one normally would. Each step he took echoed the sound of his boots against whatever surface made up the “floor”.

Martyn made sure to keep heading in the same direction in order to not get turned around. It is a method you might use if you were stuck in a maze. If you run your hand against the wall and follow it, you will eventually make it out.

He wasn’t sure if that logic would work here, you know, since there is no wall to follow but he could pretend and just walk in a straight line. It was straightforward and made sense enough for him. He didn’t exactly have many options seeing the situation he was in.

When you are surrounded by nothing except endless space, there isn’t much to distract you from your thoughts. All of the events from the last game (the game he won) came back to him the quickest.

Time always moved strangely in these games full of death but it was much more obvious in Limited Life how wonky it was. Limited Life had a timer constantly ticking down the time they had left before they would run out. The previous games didn’t constantly have time ticking down like that one did. The previous games didn’t make you so conscious of the passing of time. The previous games didn’t trap you in an hourglass until you suffocate from the draining sand and die. Days would go by and their timers didn’t represent that as one might assume. Twenty-four hours was the amount of time they were given to win yet it didn’t end within one day. They didn’t go through one day-night cycle and then all dropped dead. They experienced several days. They experienced so many days that he was sure no one kept track. They experienced times of quiet, times of joking around, times of battle, times of death…

In the end, it’s all a game. They were entertainment for those who Watched. No matter how much pain or suffering they experience, it was all for Their pleasure. 

Did it matter though? Nothing truly mattered when it came to these death games. The bonds they forge and the lives they take (or lose) don’t affect them much once a winner is declared. A winner is declared and all their loyalties, grudges, and selfishness are barely more than a distant memory. 

They all change.

Everything changes.

They are never exactly the same.

They might be similar but they never will be the same again.

Martyn supposed it’s probably for the best that they all change. Going through games revolving around murder and a limited amount of lives is traumatic. Especially when you have to turn on those who were once your friends and allies. In the end, it truly didn’t matter. Everyone dies and is pulled from the games until another game is created and everyone (almost everyone… not everyone shows up again) gets pulled back in. Even the winners die at the end.

Allowing the winners to die too (assuming that the games had to happen) is more merciful than cruel, at least to Martyn. Everyone is dead because the winner has killed to the top. No one was left in the world when a winner was declared and staying there, completely alone, would be isolating. He could say it would drive the winners mad but that is assuming they weren’t mad to start with.

Martyn laughed bitterly to himself, thinking about how it all ended. In the end, he had won. In the end, he had killed Impulse and… and Scott. Scott, his ally, his teammate, his partner…

He wondered what their relationship would look like in the next games. Would they talk? Would Scott be bitter? Would they hate each other? He doubted they would be a team again. He didn’t know if he wanted to team again. He didn’t know if he wanted to look Scott in the eye after burning him with lava and stabbing him through the stomach.

There was no reason he should be guilty. Everyone knew what they were doing from the start. Everyone knew that they would eventually die and that one would have to kill their allies. Even with that knowledge, we all just let ourselves indulge in our delusions. If you were in their shoes, you would do the same. It was the only way to deal with the stress, anxiety, and paranoia that came with constantly looking over your shoulder. It was the only way to hold onto your sanity enough to survive for as long as possible. Creating temporary but unusually strong connections was the only way to hold out on lowering your time, your hearts, and your lives yourself.

“Martyn?” The voice was so familiar that his head instantly snapped to look in the direction it had come from. The voice didn’t sound like the Voices that had greeted him when he arrived wherever he was. The voice didn’t sound like the Voices who had whispered into his ear before now.

“Scott.” Martyn blinked at the blue-haired man as his shoulders tensed. He didn’t mean to sound so flat but he did. He had just been wandering, not knowing where he was going or where to go. There was nothing but void and yet, he had found another person- and it was a person he knew! Martyn didn’t expect to actually find anything when he started wandering.

Scott looked very similar to his recent memories because of course he did. It was strange seeing him like this though. Martyn had grown used to Scott’s sea creature features and the coral that had once covered his body. They used to both have coral on them but now Martyn was the only one.

The only things that were the same between the last time he saw Scott and the Scott that stood in front of him now was the hair and some of his facial features. His hair was the same shade of blue (even if it was missing the red streak in favor of floating red particles) and he was giving him a similar small smile he’d seen many times before.

Martyn had seen it the night after he had taken some of Scott’s time from him. Everyone was trying to kill Scott and so he had told Martyn to kill him to get them off his back some. Both knew he couldn’t run forever. Martyn did as he was asked but instantly felt guilty when he saw the smile he was given when they greeted each other that night. This was when they were going to try and sleep while everyone had quieted down for a little bit. Martyn was tired and, based on how you could only hear a soft breeze outside, he assumed everyone else was too.

He’s also seen it… too many times to count, actually. The times were spinning around his brain and he couldn’t grab onto one to think about it more than three word sentence fragments. 

Scott’s smiles weren’t always consistent with emotions that could be read by the smile. His eyes were what gave him away, so you could read him once you learned the cues. Currently, based on Martyn’s experience in Reading Scott’s Expressions 101, Scott was hesitant but happy to see him here.

“Are you two just going to stare at each other all day or are you going to say something?” Martyn would like to say he wasn’t startled and that he didn’t jump like a skittish cat but that would be a lie. He turned to Pearl, who was just watching them as she tied her red jacket around her waist.

“You didn’t have to startle him like that.” Scott’s words sounded like he was telling Pearl off but the tone of his betrayed that with how amused he sounded. He was probably used to her showing up out of nowhere. He might even do it to her in return. “He’s new here and probably doesn’t understand what is happening. You were similar.”

Pearl just tsked at that as Martyn straightened up. “What is happening, actually? I would like to know because I kind of just showed up here. If there is some sort of pamphlet, I didn’t get it.”

“This is where the winners reside after each of the games.” Pearl responded, ignoring some of what Martyn said, before Scott could. She gestured widely to the area around them as she spoke.

“At least a part of us does.” Scott whispered softly, pulling his blue jacket closer to him. He seemed to get drawn back into memories of loss and pain by the look in his eyes but Martyn didn’t comment on it. He doubted Scott would want him to and he really didn’t want to play therapist right now. “We don’t really have all the answers. Just a bunch of theories.”

Martyn glanced between them quickly before looking down at himself and back up at them. “Is that why you both look like that?”

“We look like we did when we won.” Scott rolled his eyes but otherwise looked as if he found Martyn’s words funny. 

“You don’t have to sound so judgemental.” Pearl snorted at his comment. “At least we’re not stuck here looking as if we drowned.”

Martyn huffed out a laugh at that. He could respect Pearl’s judgment and her words had truth. The coral did look like it had started to grow around his dead body but he thought that was cool looking. “Touché. You’re sort of right, but it does help with the whole pirate aesthetic I had going on so I don’t mind it.”

He found his eyes wandering to Scott again. It was so strange seeing him without the fins, scales, and coral. Martyn had gotten used to them and found a weird sense of comfort in it. He lost count of how many times he and Scott had left gentle touches on each other. Martyn would softly run his hand over Scott’s scales. Scott would play with Martyn’s hair. They would cuddle together on nights when they felt safe enough to not sleep in shifts. 

Those nights together had become more frequent as the games went on. You would think that would be the opposite and you would be right… if safety was really what they felt when they decided to curl up together.

It was better to have that comfort and that peace together than to lay in their shared bed alone. It was blissful to feel each other’s soft breathing and being in calm, peaceful proximity with another person. That wasn’t always something you could get in situations that they were in and they grew to cherish their time together more and more.

Plus, they weren’t idiots. They kept their weapons by their bed and blocked the door enough that you could hear it if someone came in but could also move it easily enough for if they had to escape. They had taken the precautions in order to spend those too-short nights together and it didn’t backfire on them.

Scott met Martyn’s eyes and held them for a moment. He then turned away and laughed awkwardly. “You know, we will all be here if Cleo wins next.”

It took Martyn a moment to process what was said and what it meant before he chuckled an awkward and somewhat airy chuckle. “Double Life was sort of messy between the four of us, wasn’t it?”

“No kidding.” Pearl summoned a chair and sat down on it. She leaned forward against the back of the chair and rested her arms and head on the top. “I don’t think I would ever want to go to the nether with you again- at least not first thing.”

Martyn couldn’t blame her for that but also refused to dignify her comment with a response.

“I think Cleo deserves to win in one of these games. At some point, anyway.” Scott ran a hand through his hair, glancing over at nothing… not nothing?

Martyn followed Scott’s gaze and finally noticed… Grian? He should have realized he would be here, seeing that Pearl said that all the winners were here. All of them must have just spawned in around him at different times because he hadn’t noticed them before they were referred to or spoke themselves. It would have been nice if they did that before he wandered for who knows how long. If they’ve been in this general area the whole time then Martyn would need to work on his spatial awareness.

Grian didn’t look like he did when he won Third Life. He had wings, for starters, but he also had a white cloth of sorts with a square purple symbol with a dot in two corners over his eyes. That was more unusual to Martyn than the wings. Grian seemed to be seeing something or another on the hologram screens in front of him because he was interacting with it. How could he see what he was doing if his eyes were covered? Perhaps he was seeing with the purple (a lighter purple than the dark purple that made up the void) eyes that were all around him. He’s seen those kinds of eyes himself before.

“He’s been like that since I arrived.” Scott’s arms were back to his arms, rubbing at them like he was cold. He honestly might be, seeing that there was nothing but space and only four people breathing. Scott seemed to be more hesitant and quiet than he was in Martyn’s memories. Perhaps spending all this time in a void will do that to you… or maybe it was Martyn’s arrival that had thrown him off balance. Martyn could understand the feelings he might be feeling though. He didn’t feel as confident and energized as he did during the games, especially during the end of Limited Life. Perhaps it was the adrenaline that covered the pit of emotions that threatened to swallow him whole. “Not exactly the best conversationalist.”

“I don’t think he’s said more than a few words to us since we’ve arrived.” Pearl also glanced at Grian before looking back at Scott and Martyn. “He usually doesn’t even yell at us when we get too close. He only told me off when I tried to mess with him but I wasn’t able to get him to move despite trying to knock him over or just get his attention to see what his deal was.”

“I’ve tried to peek over his shoulder to see what he was doing and it just looked to be a lot of planning for something.” Scott added to what Pearl was saying. “Based on what I gathered, I am fairly positive he’s planning out future games.”

Martyn hummed to himself as he took in all that was said here before diverting the topic of conversation. “So, what do you do between games here, then?”

“Mostly thinking,” Scott summoned a more comfortable chair than Pearl did and sat down, “or messing around with the ability to create what we want. Sometimes Pearl and I will spar just to pass the time.”

“How did you do that?” Martyn inquired, wanting to do what they had done as well. Pearl had done it and now Scott did as well so he was sure he could do it.

“Think of what you want and just kind of will it into existence.” Pearl pushed herself back in her seat with her arms on the metal frame of the chair. “I usually flick my hand in the direction I want it but Scott snaps.”

Martyn pictured what he wanted before flicking his hand in front of him. A table with a cake on it appeared and a shocked laugh escaped his lips. “It worked!”

He snapped, trying Scott’s technique now, and some chairs appeared around the table. Martyn smiled wide, pleased with himself. He grabbed the back of one of the chairs and pulled it back so he could sit down. “Would you like to join me for my birthday party?”

Scott raised an eyebrow at that but the ends of his lips twitched up. “It’ll be a smaller party than your last one but, hey, at least the Bad Boys aren’t here to blow it up this time.”

Pearl got up from her seat and went to sit down next to Martyn. “I have been told I had a claim to one-fourth of this cake, if not more.”

“Told by who?” Scott gave her a doubtful look but he was clearly amused. “Last time I checked, neither one of us said anything about that and we’re all aware Grian hasn’t said a thing.”

“I have my sources.” Pearl claimed with a lopsided grin. “Don’t question me.”

“Mm, I can and I will.” Scott continued the light banter.

“I think you would get sick if you ate that much cake.” Martyn inserted himself back into the conversation as he cut the three of them a slice of cake. 

“You can’t get sick here.” Scott had ended up sitting on Martyn’s other side and across from Pearl. He gave Martyn a “thank you” nod when Martyn placed a plate in front of him and then Pearl. “We don’t have to eat and we don’t take any damage that doesn’t heal quickly. We’ve gotten our fair share of scraps and bruises from sparing or whatever else but they didn’t stick around long.”

“You keep whatever scars you got during the game you won, though.” Pearl stabbed a piece of cake she cut with her fork and put it in her mouth. She paused and, after she swallowed the piece of cake, she glanced at Scott. “I wonder what would have happened if you didn’t blow yourself up so I technically was the last one alive in Double Life. Or if a soulmate pair, in which neither of them have won before, were the last ones alive.”

Scott furrowed his eyebrows, looking down toward his cake but it was clear he wasn’t actually paying attention to the cake. “I… I don’t know. Maybe they would just both be here? It would be rather… strange to have two versions of myself here. Especially since I have memories outside of Last Life.”

“I don’t know if I could deal with two of you for the rest of time.” Pearl wrinkled her nose at that. “At least not for as long as we reside here.”

Everyone went quiet after Pearl spoke, contemplating over the speculations and the reality they were currently living. They didn’t even eat more cake as they sat in silence.

Martyn cut a piece of his cake off after several moments and stabbed it with his fork. He held up said fork with the piece of cake on it and looked at Grian. “Hey Grian, you’re invited to my birthday party too!”

Grian didn’t even look at him or do anything to acknowledge him. Wow, Grian was ignoring him during his birthday party. Rude. Martyn frowned at that before putting the cake in his mouth as something sweet to distract from the strange feeling he felt radiating from Grian.

“You summoned some pretty good cake, Martyn,” Scott called Martyn’s attention back. Martyn opened his mouth to explain what the cake was specifically but Scott beat him to it. “It tastes like the cake we had that one night. The one after your birthday party went wrong.”

Martyn felt some warmth build in his chest at Scott’s words. He remembered it too! Martyn didn’t even have to tell him. Scott really was the same person he knew… he just looked a little different. “Yeah, that is what I meant to do.”

Pearl swallowed the piece of cake she had been chewing and grinned as she spoke. “Well, I say you should have invited me over so I could have a slice because this cake is really good, but, based on the looks you’re giving each other, it is probably a good idea you didn’t. I think you two had more fun without me there.”

“Shhh, Pearl, I’m too tired for this.” Scott rubbed his eyes with a groan, his hands not doing much to hide the blush that graced his cheeks. “Why is my ex teasing me about my other ex? Why are my exes here to torture me?”

“Grian isn’t your ex.” Pearl pointed out with a quick glance to everyone’s favorite Watcher.

At the same time as Pearl, Martyn said, “At least you don’t have to worry about Jimmy ever showing up here.”

Martyn must have blinked too long because, next thing he knew, a pillow slammed itself directly into his face. It had enough force that it almost knocked him back in his chair. He was, luckily, able to grip onto the table and not fall backward. If he ended up on the floor because of a pillow, he would not be happy and may have to summon a diamond sword. 

Pearl couldn’t hold back her laughter. She was laughing so hard she started to tear up. “Oh, Martyn, you deserved that. You deserved that so much. I would also like to throw a pillow at you but that would just be for fun.”

Scott was glaring at him, even as Pearl laughed. When Martyn met his gaze, Scott scoffed. “If you want to start teasing people for traumatic experiences, I can pull out my list.”

Martyn whistled a low tune and put his hands up in surrender. It was a low blow to mention the fact that you will not see or be with someone dear to you in the same way again. He was well aware of that and yet he did it anyway. It was kind of funny (humor is the best medicine), sure, but he could empathize. He didn’t always choose to but he could. 

He… he felt the same way with Ren. But Ren isn’t here and he wasn’t in Limited Life. Martyn wasn’t sure if the Watchers had decided to never bring him back to the games or not. He wasn’t sure if he would ever show up again. He also wasn’t sure if he wanted Ren to come back or not. Ren was set free from the games (from what Martyn had gathered, anyway) but, selfishly, he wanted him back. Even though it won’t be the same as it was in Third Life. Even though it was likely they would be on opposite sides. Even though it will hurt. It has hurt! Relationships of any kind rarely work out well (or, at least, would not be the same) for anyone long term.

Martyn knew Scott had mixed feelings with Jimmy, especially after they were husbands in Third Life (none of them knew that the games would continue after someone won at that point, meaning they didn’t know how things worked like they do now which makes it harder) and Jimmy recently rejected him in Limited Life. Martyn knew Scott didn’t expect any relationships to carry over with significant meaning (that would be foolish to believe, especially after observing the four games that have occurred so far) but he also knew that didn’t mean Scott would like being at odds with someone he willingly gave some of his time to.

“Get over yourselves. You can’t change the past and you can’t control what happens in the games. We’re all different going in and coming out so holding grudges does nothing for you.” Pearl’s laughter had died down and she was shaking her head at them. “I would also not like to be stuck with you two bickering until we get pulled into the next game.”

“Okay.” Scott hummed noncommittally. His shoulders relaxed and he smiled at Martyn. The smile looked genuine but he wasn’t sure if he believed it. “Congrats on winning though! I don’t think I’ve gotten the chance to congratulate you yet. I was very happy to see that you won.”

“Even if I poured lava on you and stabbed you?” Martyn raised an eyebrow at him, skeptical of Scott's words.

“I don’t care about winning and someone had to win. It’s kind of how these things work.” Scott shrugged before taking another bite of cake. “As we just speculated, it would be strange to win twice. I don’t care to find out what that would mean for us in this little void we are stuck in. I'd rather have a new face to talk to than a copy of myself or no one. Besides, how could I be mad when my fellow Mean Gill won?”

The warm feeling was back and it felt wonderful but also strange. He returned Scott’s praise with a genuine smile of his own. “I mean, we were the best team there so I’m not surprised one of us won. We were a force to be reckoned with! Our whole team of two people did make it to the top three so that has to say something.”

Scott laughed at that, shaking his head fondly. He reached out to Martyn’s hand, entwining his fingers with Martyn’s. Neither Pearl nor Grian were there anymore and he wasn't sure what happened there. Martyn didn’t understand the rules of this place but he was glad they were left alone. This moment was nice and he didn’t mind holding on to some glimpse of what they had. In fact, he would greatly appreciate having a positive connection with someone (especially with someone like Scott) during a time they existed outside of the everyday fears of maybe not living to see the next day.

Scott rubbed his thumb against Martyn’s hand, eyes sparkling just like they did when they were on the Coral Isles together. “I never doubted us for a second.”