#Sobs she is so angry at the thought of someone making a kid wear a collar

[goldeiafortuna]

†. ┊ @serandipity » starter call

†. ┊ It was disgusting and vile, in her eyes, to even dare make a child wear a collar. Collars were for pets, not children, ❝A child shouldn't wear something like that. Do you need help removing it?❞

[poeticpascal]

Home (Joel Miller x Barbie!Reader)

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Summary: When a deep sense of loneliness overcomes Cowgirl Barbie, she leaves Barbieland to find whatever poor kid it is that's making her feel that way. Of course, she could never have expected just how much light Sarah would bring to her life, and she certainly didn't expect the things her grumpy father would teach her about love.

Word count: 10.6k

Warnings: Barbie movie spoilers, angst, angry Joel (he's insecure and protective), descriptions of loneliness, lots of fluff!

A/n: this is literally my Magnum Opus. Reader is Cowgirl Barbie. I truly hope you love this as much as I do 💖

Barbieland has been very different since Stereotypical Barbie left. Good different.

The Kens have jobs now, proper jobs, not just ‘Beach’ or ‘Surf’. They’re not the most competent workers Barbieland has ever seen; they get too distracted trying on new overalls at the building site or throwing paper aeroplanes at each other in the offices. But they’re trying, and you have to admit, it’s pretty adorable seeing them so excited to head off to work each morning.

Barbieland has laughter now, true laughter, not perfect giggles but the kind that brings tears to your eyes and makes your belly hurt. It has crying, proper full-bodied sobs that rack through your chest, aching in a good way. And it has life. Fervent, overwhelming, painfully brilliant life.

It’s magnificent, even the really hard bits. Which there are a lot of.

Like losing someone you really, really love.

Stereotypical Barbie - Barbara, as she’s known now - had been your best friend. Your Dreamhouse was right next to hers, and every morning you’d float down to the streets together, where she’d hop into her little pink car and you’d mount your pony and ride into town. It was perfect, a sweet little life surrounded by pinkness and joy, and if you’re being completely honest with yourself, you miss it.

You bonded over how displaced you both felt. Neither of you really had a thing, a specific job to do. She was Stereotypical Barbie, and you’re Cowgirl Barbie. Destined to wear dusty denim and cowboy hats for all of eternity; not a doctor, not a physicist, not an astronaut and certainly not the president. Just a cowgirl.

And there aren’t even any cows.

That was what brought you and Stereotypical Barbie together; you both felt slightly unsure of the world, however perfect it may be, and you found friendship in that.

So when she left, that hurt. 

Because she found purpose.

Purpose in feeling, and knowing, and living.

Purpose in things you could only dream about. And what you hate the most is that she was right.

It feels good to hurt. It feels good to have that pain in your chest, that ache in your cheeks when you’re not quite done crying yet. That emptiness that fills the space where flowers had once bloomed.

It feels like shit to miss your friend, and it feels incredible to have loved someone so much that you miss them.

And that’s the beauty she brought to your life. To all the Barbies’ lives.

But it still goddamn hurts.

About as much as the strange thoughts of loneliness have hurt the past few weeks.

You’re never alone in Barbieland; there’s always someone there, a friend, a listening ear. A million other Barbies who genuinely care.

But the feeling is so strong, so heavy in your gut, that all the Barbies and Kens and Allens in the world can’t take it away.

Which only calls for one thing.

“Your friend had the same problem, you know,” Weird Barbie says, walking round you in circles like prey. You gulp; she’s significantly less ‘weird’ now, what with her fancy job at the Capital and the whole ‘awakened Barbies’ thing, but she certainly kept some habits that set you a little bit on edge.

“How do you mean?” You stutter, trying to keep up as she continues to stalk around you and make strange gestures.

“First came the depression-” she pulls down a presentation screen from god-knows where, one decorated with the typical Barbie anatomy and annotated with the same notes Weird Barbie is now recounting. She points to the head, ‘depression’ scribbled beside it, and stops in front of you.

“And then-” she moves again, rotating to the other side of the screen and pointing to the drawing’s legs. “-came the cellulite.”

She pauses, seemingly waiting for some big reaction, but you just stare. Sure, cellulite was feared back then, but almost every Barbie has it now, and it’s really no big deal. “...okay?” you posit, slightly more concerned as Weird Barbie’s face falls at your reply.

“Damn, I guess we really are doing things differently now.” Her surprise is dropped quickly, as she continues to explain what it means to be overcome with these awful feelings so quickly.

“In the end, sweetheart, there’s only one way to fix this.” She leans in uncomfortably close, making you gulp. “You gotta go to the real world.”

You had a feeling she’d say that. 

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

When you arrive in the real world, there’s really only one person you can go to. The one person you’ve missed more than anything.

She was your best friend, and yet standing here on the doorstep of an apartment that looks nothing like a Dreamhouse, you can’t help how nervous you feel.

She’d given all the Barbies her new address, in case any of them managed to sneak into the real world, so she mustn’t mind that you’re here. But she’ll be so different now, so human, and you’re still just a Barbie with a jaunty cowgirl outfit and a sunny disposition.

Your worries are immediately washed away when the door flings open, and before you can even see who it is, a pair of arms are tightly wrapped around your neck and you’re pulled in for a big, warm hug. But you know who it is, and you hug her back immediately, tears welling in your eyes as you finally hold your best friend again.

Barbara pulls back, holding your cheeks in her hands, almost like she didn’t think you were really there. “I can’t believe you’re here!” She grins, hugging you again with a giggle. “I missed you so much.”

“Oh, Barbara, I missed you too,” you cry, not wanting to let her go. 

“What are you doing here?” She asks, and you finally relax your arms, taking in how much she’s changed. She isn’t wearing anything pink, or sparkly, but a white blouse and nude pants that look very professional. Very human. Very different.

You don’t reply to her question, unsure of what the answer even is, and that alone makes her worried. So she takes you by the hand and leads you into her apartment, one painted white with sweet pictures on the walls of her with Sasha and Gloria, and some other women you don’t recognise. It makes you a little jealous.

She leads you to the kitchen, sitting you on a bar stool and pouring tea for you both. You go to drink it, holding the cup away from your mouth and tipping it, but she quickly jumps up shouting “no!” and pulling the cup down.

She laughs, making you laugh nervously too, and explains you need to hold the cup to your lips and sip. “Are you sure?” you ask, staring down at the liquid and tentatively trying to drink it, the warmth on your tongue foreign but sweet. 

“Yep! That’s how we drink here. I know it’s weird but once you get used to it, it’s so good.”

You smile, putting down the cup and looking back at your friend. “Things are pretty different here, huh?”

Barbara smiles, nodding her head and swinging her legs where they hang from the stool. “Yep! Isn’t it great?”

“Yeah, it is,” you reply, with a fraction of the excitement. You push a loose strand of hair behind your ear, knocking your hat slightly which you quickly correct into place, acutely aware of yourself in the presence of someone who’s changed so much. “Do… do you ever miss us? The Barbies?”

She grimaces, making you regret asking as soon as the words leave your lips. Her eyebrows sink into concern, and she sets her tea down beside yours, taking your hand and squeezing it tightly.

“Every single day. Of course I miss you - I even miss the Kens!” You both giggle, and you’re reminded of how things were before. 

You have to admit, you almost asked your Ken to come with you, but he was having so much fun in Barbieland now that you couldn’t bring yourself to take him away from it.

“I’m so sorry I made you feel that way.” Her eyes have welled up now, and guilt hits you like a truck.

“No, no, I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m so happy for you, truly.” You smile, and you know she knows you mean it. “I just… I feel so lonely. It’s like a big hole in my chest, all the time. No matter what I do, no matter how many girl’s nights and big blowout parties and days on the beach, I just feel lonely. And it’s even worse without you here.”

Barbara holds your hand tighter, and something you said seems to have caught her attention. “You mean you felt like this even before I left? Before the Kendom?”

You nod, sheepish, and her eyes squint in thought. Then, as if a lightbulb has gone off in her head, she gives you her trademark big white smile and excitedly shouts, “I know what you need to do!”

She jumps off her chair, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking LA. You stand there for a moment, taking in the view, the overwhelming sights and sounds of rushing traffic below you. It’s beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

“You need to find the little girl who’s playing with you,” Barbara whispers, watching your amazement. 

“Isn’t that what you did?” You ask, finally pulling your eyes away to face your friend. She nods, her smile just as bright and honest as ever, and it makes the idea of facing this big wide world seem a little less scary.

“I’ll come with you, we’ll go find her, and we’ll figure out what’s been making her feel so lonely.” 

“Will you really come with me?” 

You already know the answer; of course she will. She’s the kindest person you know. Of course, all the Barbies are the kindest people you know, but that’s a technicality you don’t feel like getting into right now.

“You know it,” she grins, and you can’t help but grin back as you think about what an adventure this is going to be.

“How will I know where to find her?” You ask, looking back through the window at the huge world on the other side of the glass. How could you possibly find your kid?

Barbie tugs you to face her, straightens your hat and looks directly into your eyes, making you focus. “You gotta be really calm, okay? Just close your eyes, clear your mind, and find her memories. And then try to figure out where she is. That’s how I found Sasha!’

You nod, not quite sure how this is going to work, if this is going to work. But you try anyway, squeezing your eyes shut and doing your best to shush all the noise and confusion in your head, desperately searching for anything that could help you find your kid. You get nothing, ready to give up after a few minutes of emptiness, when suddenly - there it is, the faintest hint of a memory.

“Dad, can we have a movie night tonight?” Sarah asks, watching as Joel paces the room, frantically searching for his other shoe.

“Yeah, sweetheart, course,” he replies. She smiles, heading over to the TV stand and already searching for a film to watch, giggling as her Dad begins to lift up the couch cushions. 

She looks down, seeing the shoe hiding just behind the stand, and rolls her eyes as she picks it up and throws it at him. “How’d you find it?” He mutters, scoffing as she just laughs at him, though a matching grin is etching its way onto his lips.

He slides on the other shoe, grabbing his wallet and keys and heading over to give Sarah a kiss on the head. “When will you be home?” She asks, and he offers a guilty smile that doesn’t make her particularly hopeful.

“Soon as I can, Sarah. Around 8? 9 at the latest.” She nods, forcing a smile and letting him go, and Joel’s out the door in a flash with a final shout of “Love you, honey!” and a slam of the door.

The memory changes, then.

It’s nighttime, and Sarah lies alone on the couch, a movie playing that she doesn’t seem to be really watching. Her eyes flicker up to the mantlepiece, where the clock reads 10:13, and she sighs. 

Then she stands, traipsing into the hallway and towards the front door, where the key hangs in the lock. She turns it, unlocking the door and leaving the key on the sidetable, then picking up a piece of mail that had been left there.

“51 Mulberry Road

Travis County

Austin, Texas

Dear Mr. Miller, we are writing to solicit your contracting services for our new development…”

Sarah groans, throwing the letter back on the table and muttering “more work, great.” She retreats upstairs, slamming the door behind her and climbing into bed…

You’re pulled out of the memory by Barbara’s voice, filled with excitement. “Can you see her? Do you know her name? Do you know where she is?”

“Sarah” you mumble, still dazed. “Sarah, her name’s Sarah.”

Barbara squeals, clapping her hands together before calming herself and urging you to continue. “And? Where is she?”

You concentrate, trying to remember what was written on the letter you saw. “Er… Texas. Yeah, she’s in Texas. Mulberry Road. Is that close?”

She pulls a face, a yeah… no kind of face, then grabs a big book from under her coffee table and flips it open. You watch in amazement as she scans the pages and pages of maps inside, until she shouts, “a-ha!”, pointing to a spot on a page titled ‘The United States of America’. “Here it is. We’ll need to fly there.”

A nervous excitement brews in your tummy, your eyes glued to the little spot on the map labelled Texas. The spot where Sarah lives, with her Dad. The place you’re destined to find.

“Oh, and don’t get freaked out… but men fly planes here.” Your head snaps up, confusion painting your face, and Barbara just nods at your reaction.

“Seriously?” You ask, wondering if she was just playing a prank. “Is… is that safe?”

She giggles, putting the book down and grabbing your hand. “Yep, there’s a lot to get used to here. You’ll see. Now come on, we need to pack our bags!”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

And so here you are, on a flight to Texas, on your way to find Sarah and bring an end to her loneliness. 

Barbara tells you all about the real world. How different yet wonderful it is, how much there is to do and see and feel. She’s at university now, getting qualifications to be a psychologist and work with young girls who are struggling. It’s brilliant, but strange, you think - qualifications aren’t needed in Barbieland - anyone can just do anything. Well, the Barbies can. And the Kens really do try.

The journey is filled with new and exciting things, but it’s scattered with memories of Sarah and her dad that pop up in your mind at random. You see everything; their best moments, their worst, the times they’ve laughed and cried and screamed. 

You can see the first time she chose you. She was smaller, much smaller than she is in the more recent memories, and her Dad seemed friendlier, then.

“Alright, honey. Which one d’ya want?” Joel asks, smiling as Sarah’s eyes scan shelf after shelf of Barbies. 

“You should get this one,” he jokes, picking up a doll labelled ‘Builder Barbie’. “She’s just like your daddy!”

Sarah giggles, shaking her head and crossing her arms. “You’re not a builder, daddy! You’re a cont-ac-er.”

Joel’s heart warms, both at how much she loves his job and won’t accept a vague similarity, and her attempted pronunciation of the word ‘contractor’. 

“Well then, which one, babygirl?”

She spends a few more moments looking at each option, before her eyes widen, landing on one a little further away to the left. She stands up on her tippy-toes, grabbing the doll and admiring it, giddy.

“This one, Daddy! I want this one!” She shows him the doll, waving it in his face but not letting him take it, protective already. It’s a Cowgirl Barbie, one clothed in denim and brown leather, with cliche cowboy boots and a hat. 

“She’s just like you, Daddy.”

Joel pulls a face, looking back and forth between Sarah and the doll. “How in the hell is she like me?”

Sarah scowls, pointing to the cowboy hat and explaining, “she’s a cowgirl! And you’re a cowboy!” 

“I ain’t no cowboy” Joel retorts, shaking his head and leading Sarah over to the cashier’s desk. “When have you ever seen me in one of them hats, huh?”

Sarah giggles, itching to take the doll out of the box, and Joel knows she’ll do it the second he’s paid. “Maybe you can borrow hers, daddy, and be a proper cowboy.”

He rolls his eyes, though the smile hasn’t fallen from his face for even a second. He pays, watching with joy as Sarah scrambles to rip open the plastic, finally pulling out the doll and hugging it the whole way home while making up stories of ranches and horses and pistol duels - she was certainly her father’s daughter.

“Barbie? You there?” Barbara pulls you out of your thoughts, staring at you as you finally turn to look at her. 

“Sorry, I’m here. Just…”

“Keep getting memories, huh?” 

You nod, looking out the plane window and into the skies. She still seems concerned, but lets it go, returning to her magazine and letting you be with your thoughts. 

More memories swirl in your mind; you can see Sarah’s first days of middle school and high school, her most vulnerable moments of crying in her room and talking to you like you were the only one who’d listen, her relationship with her dad and how he’s become more and more distant over the years.

Sarah slams her bedroom door behind her, falling on the bed with a sigh. She sits back up, her eyes falling on the Cowgirl sat on the shelf across from her, growing dusty as she plays with it less and less.

She’s 14 now, too old for dolls really. And yet, that Barbie had been there with her through her toughest moments, and even now, it was comforting to have her there.

“Dad’s at work. Again.” She says, half to the doll, half to herself. “It sucks.”

She dives into her backpack, pulling out a small box and opening it up, the newly-polished watch inside glistening in the light from the window. 

She takes it out, delicately, and turns it around to see the engraved lettering on the back. 

‘No matter what, we have each other. I love you, Dad. From Sarah x’

She smiles, quickly placing the watch back in its box, not wanting to damage it before she could even give it to her Dad. “You think he’ll like it?” She asks the doll smiling at her from the shelf.

“I just… I just want him to know I love him. And that I know he doesn’t mean to be gone all the time.” 

She stands, picking the doll up from the shelf and brushing the dust away, carefully readjusting her little hat and smiling at the piece of her childhood. 

“I’ll give it to him tonight. If he ever comes home,” she sighs, lying down beside the Barbie and taking a nap, knowing she had a long wait ahead.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

“Alright, here we are!” Barbara chimes, pulling up to the house you’d been looking for. 51 Mulberry Road. 

“Are you nervous?”

“Hell yeah I’m nervous,” you quip, the fear plainly stated in your wide eyes. What if she doesn’t like you? What if you can’t help her feel less lonely? What if this just doesn’t work?

“Look, I’ve been there,” she replies, knowing exactly how you feel. “You’ve gotta remember that you’re her Barbie. You’re her friend, and she’s yours. It’s all gonna work out. My only advice? Don’t expect her to thank you for making everything amazing for women. Trust me, it does not end well.”

You giggle, remembering the story of when she first met Sasha, and hope Sarah won’t be quite as mean. You feel a little better, and thank Barbara for her support, grateful to have your friend back.

“Alright, I’m gonna go and get a coffee. If you need anything, call me, okay?” She hands you the little flip phone she bought, having shown you how to make texts and calls on it to her iPhone. You nod, thanking her again and stepping out of the car, the nerves building up as you hear her drive away and you’re left alone in front of the house.

You take a deep breath, your boots clicking on the path as you make your way up to the door, supported by a big wooden patio and a bench out front. It reminds you of home a little; your western-themed Dreamhouse, clad with old wooden floors and southern-style windows.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you raise a hand and knock, waiting with baited breath before you hear footsteps on the other side and the door swings open.

And there she is. Sarah.

She’s a little older than she was in the most recent memories you saw, around 16 now. She’s tall, with a purple cardigan on and pretty blue jeans that you’re jealous of already. Her smile is bright, precious, and if you didn’t know better you’d think she was a Barbie herself.

“Can I help you?” She asks, looking you up and down with a slightly confused, but still polite expression. 

You stall, the introduction you’d prepared completely forgotten, your mouth just opening and closing like a fish out of water. Sarah’s expression becomes one of concern more than anything, and she reaches out a soft hand to touch your arm, making you jump.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” she pauses, looking you over again. “Sorry, do I… do I know you?”

You stumble again, trying to find the right words, and she must see how genuinely nervous you are because she searches behind you into the street, then pulls you inside and shuts the door. “Come on, you need something to drink.”

She leads you to the kitchen, a beautifully decorated but old fashioned room with porcelain tiles and wooden beams across the ceiling. You trace your fingers across the counter top, looking around in awe while Sarah pours you a glass of lemonade. 

Your eyes fall to the corner of the room, where her school bag sits, and a familiar-looking cowboy hat pokes out. You walk towards it without thinking and pull out the doll, admiring the little plastic version of yourself.

“Oh, that’s - that’s not what it looks like. I’m not… I don’t play with dolls anymore, obviously, I just…”

Sarah’s voice trails off, and you assume she’s embarrassed, but when you turn to face her you realise it’s not that at all. She’s staring at you, then the doll, then back at you, with a cocktail of confusion and realisation on her face. 

“You’re dressed… you look exactly like her. What -“ She’s cut off by the front door slamming shut, and a familiar voice shouting down the hall, “Sarah? I’m home.”

Her eyes widen, quickly looking for somewhere she to hide you, the stranger she’s invited in, panicking as her Dad’s footsteps get louder.

But it’s too late. Joel stands in the door frame, staring at you, then shooting Sarah a look that says, ‘the fuck is this?’

“Dad, I can explain-“ he cuts her off, staring you in the eye and taking a step towards you. He looks older than he did in your memories - not in the way that Sarah does, but in a tired way, like he’d worked a hundred years and counting. Grey curls wash over his head, matched by a silvery beard and sunken eyes, and for all the Kens you’ve known in your life, you don’t think you’ve met anyone as handsome as him.

“Who the fuck are you?” He asks - no, demands, one arm protectively stretched in Sarah’s direction.

“I- I’m- Barbie. I’m Barbie.” You stutter, clutching the doll a little tighter in your hand. Joel’s face scrunches angrily, and he looks at Sarah again, who just shrugs.

“You’re fuckin’ what?” He asks, clearly unimpressed.

You panic, holding up the doll to your face, showing him the obvious similarities between you. The same clothes, same hairstyle, same eyes. 

“You know, Cowgirl Barbie. Sarah’s Barbie,” you explain, a little more confident now, hoping they’d accept your explanation.

Your hopes are quickly dashed as Joel asks Sarah, “do you know this clown?” 

His arms are clenched, and you try not to worry about what’s coming next.

“No, Dad, but-“

He cuts her off. “So you just invited this crazy person into our home?” 

He’s shouting now, and you recoil, remembering Barbara’s first experience meeting Sasha. You wonder if this is worse.

“Dad, don’t talk about her like that,” Sarah shouts back. It makes you feel at least a little better, but it’s too late. Joel’s incensed, shouting about stranger danger and how you’re probably an escapee from some mental asylum, how weird it is that you know what dolls she owns and how to dress like them. 

“- and you” he looks directly at you now, pointing. “You get the hell out of my home and you don’t speak to my daughter ever again, you hear me?”

Tears stream down your face as you nod, throwing the doll onto the counter and running past Sarah and Joel and out of the house. You can barely make it out the front door, stumbling against the columns on the patio, before making it just far enough onto the grass outside to stumble to your knees and let yourself cry properly.

That same, overwhelming loneliness fills you again, tearing deep into your chest and only adding to your pain. Your shoulders shake, and you try to remind yourself of what they teach you at Barbieland; crying is good, hurting is good. It means you’re alive.

But it really doesn’t feel good right now.

You can hear the faint sound of the door opening and closing, but you don’t really register it, not until you feel a soft hand on your shoulder.

You look behind you, meeting Sarah’s apologetic eyes, and you try to wipe your own of their flood of tears. 

“Oh no, I’m sorry, I must look horrible,” you laugh, though it’s forced.

Sarah smiles, sitting down in front of you, knees crossed. “I think you look beautiful.”

And that makes you really smile.

You giggle, pulling off your cowboy hat and setting it on the grass beside you. Your denim jacket feels a little hot now, too tight, but you try to ignore the feeling and focus on getting your breathing back to normal.

“Is it true? Are you really… her?” 

Sarah’s question is soft, like she doesn’t know quite which answer she wants. You only nod, fiddling with your hands in your lap.

“You’re Barbie?” She asks again, and you can tell she’s expecting a reply this time.

“Cowgirl Barbie,” you answer, still only looking at your hands. 

“God, you know, when Stereotypical Barbie came here, she had such a good time. Mind you, that was in LA, so -“

Sarah cuts you off with a gasp. “Wait, that was real? I heard about that! It was all over Twitter - Barbie and Ken on roller skates in LA, Barbie in a pink cowboy outfit-“

“Yes!” You exclaim, excited - “she told me all about it! She chose the cowboy outfit ‘cos it reminded her of me, you know. We’re best friends.” 

You’re showing off a little now, but you don’t care - it feels good to talk, to be believed.

Sarah watches you in awe. “Wow. So this is, like, real. This is real? You’re Barbie. Where’s Ken?”

“Oh, he had to stay back at home. Well, he didn’t have to, he would’ve come if I asked him to. He’s really sweet. I just… I didn’t wanna be a burden.” You explain, grateful he hadn’t seen you crying like this now you think about it.

“But isn’t he, like, your boyfriend? I’m sure he wouldn't mind.” Sarah replies.

“Oh, he isn’t my boyfriend,” you giggle at the thought. “No, no, we don’t really do that in Barbieland. Everyone’s their own person and makes themselves happy, no need for boyfriends and girlfriends. Even the Kens!”

“Rad,” Sarah grins, liking the sound of Barbieland. “So… why are you here?”

You reply honestly, there’s no use in skirting around it anymore. “Well… I feel what you feel, Sarah. And when you’re sad, and lonely, I feel that too. That’s why I came, to help you feel better.”

“Oh.” It’s all she says.

“Why do you feel like that?” Your tears have stopped by now, your face left red and puffy. You try not to start up again as you watch her face twist at your question.

“Just… stuff. With my dad. He’s never here anymore, always at work. It used to be just me and him against the world, you know? And now it feels like… like it’s just me.”

You pout, rubbing a hand on her knee. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean it, Sarah. You always have each other, just like the watch says.” 

You smile, trying to be as comforting as possible, but it’s quickly wiped away by the look of shock on her face. 

You’re about to ask her what’s the matter when a southern drawl sounds from behind you, “how do you know that?”

You turn, facing Joel who stands on the steps of the porch, a hand on the railing. Your nerves set in again immediately, and you turn in on yourself, trying not to cry.

“Um, the watch, the one from Sarah. That’s what it says, right?” You can see that very watch strapped to Joel’s wrist, the glass broken, and he brings his other hand to touch it. 

“No one else knows what’s written on that watch,” Sarah says, and you whip around to face her, “holy shit, this is really, really real, isn’t it? You’re her?”

You just nod, and she lets out a laugh, springing forward to hug you. You yelp in surprise but hug her back immediately, revelling in the feeling of wet grass hitting your back. Sarah pulls away, looking up at her Dad with pleading eyes, “come on Dad, you know this is real. She’s real. We have to let her stay.”

You sit up again, grabbing your hat and standing, facing Joel though your eyes stay trained on the floor. He’s silent for a long time, thinking, before he grunts and you can just about make out a whisper of “fine” as Sarah celebrates and leads you back into the house.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

You stay there a few days, mostly keeping out of Joel’s way. They set you up in the spare bedroom, but Sarah comes to get you most nights, and you stay up together having sleepovers and telling stories.

You tell her all about Barbieland, about the beautiful beaches and all-woman Supreme Court, the Dreamhouses and the perfectly blue skies. She tells you about her life, the latest drama at school, about Brad the boy who won’t leave her alone and Jenny, her best friend who definitely fancies Brad. It’s incredibly exciting, and you wonder why you never left for the real world sooner.

Barbara’s ecstatic for you, of course; she’s staying in a nearby hotel for as long as you need her there, you even plan to introduce her to Sarah soon.

You wake up one morning, covered in a duvet somewhere in the corner of Sarah’s room, a host of her other old toys laid out where she’d been explaining each one to you last night. You wondered if there’s a Thomas The Tank Engine Land, too.

There are voices downstairs, and for all the rules of politeness and social expectations you’ve learned, you can’t help but tiptoe to the top of the landing and listen in to the conversation. To make sure Sarah’s okay, more than anything.

“Oh come on, Dad. It’s just one day!” Sarah almost shouts, though it’s obvious she’s trying to keep her voice down. They both are.

“Sarah, I gotta go to work. How the hell am I meant to keep a walking-talking Barbie doll entertained for 7 hours, huh? You want me to talk about makeup and glitter?” Joel’s voice is thick and annoyed, though he’s noticeably gentler when he talks to her.

Sarah scoffs, and you can’t see her, but you know she’s rolling her eyes. “She’s more than that, Dad. She’s smart, and she’s caring. Just - just do this for me, okay? And as soon as I’m back from school, I’ll take her off your hands.”

You can’t see them, but you hear their footsteps walk a little closer to the stairwell. “Fine, fine. Whatever. You better go and wake her up then, cos I gotta leave in 20,” Joel resigns.

You see the top of Sarah’s head from your view between the bannisters, and quickly hurry back to her room and under the sheets. She enters, sitting beside your spot on the floor and whispering, “Barbie? Hey Barbie, wake up!”

You feign tiredness, lifting your head and smiling at the girl. “Oh hey, Sarah, good morning.”

She giggles, and you’re quickly aware of your bedhead, something you never experienced in Barbieland. She talks as you grab a brush and fix yourself up.

“So look, I gotta go to school today. But my Dad agreed to take you with him to work so you’re not on your own… is that okay?” 

She must see the slight panic in your eyes,  as she quickly scrambles to reassure you. 

“I know he was a bit of a hot head when you first met him, but he’s just… protective. But he’s sweet, really. Just give him a chance.”

You think about it for a moment. Barbara is still staying nearby, and you know she’d come and hang out with you while you wait for Sarah to come home if you asked. But then again, maybe it’d be good to spend some time with Joel/ It’s obvious that a lot of what brought you here comes down to their relationship, and if you can help to fix that even just a little bit, then your journey will have been worth it.

“Okay,” you answer, giving Sarah a small smile. She grins, standing up and grabbing her school bag before shouting over her shoulder as she leaves the room, “great! He’s going in 20 minutes… better get ready!” 

You gasp, jumping up from your little nest on the floor and searching through the duffel bag Barbara packed for you of outfits to wear, all western-themed of course.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

Car rides with Joel are… awkward, to say the least. 

He drives in silence, no radio, just the slow drone of traffic outside echoing between you, whistling through the open windows.

His car is very different to the ones in Barbieland. It doesn’t have an open top, the seats are worn and rough to the touch. The smell of coffee and cigarettes hangs in the air, and though you’re not used to it, you still find it comforting. Safe.

You reach for the radio, looking for a tune to play and maybe even sing - you’re sure that’ll cheer him up. But he stops you, not hurting you at all but batting your hand away and finally taking his eyes off the road.

“Don’t touch that,” he grunts, and you shrink back in on yourself again. He recoils a little, like he’s trying to appear less aggressive, and refocuses on the road.

“Sorry,” you mutter, shy.

He shakes his head, resting his elbow on the window beside him and readjusting himself, clearly uncomfortable. Whether it’s you or just the way he’s sat, you don’t know.

“‘S fine,” he mutters, barely audible. You nod, unsure of what else to say after that. You’re not looking at him, though you can see his movements in the edge of your peripheral, and you’re certain you can see him glancing at you every couple of minutes.

He finally speaks again after a long span of silence. 

“So…” he starts, tentative. “Is it hard to get here? From- from Barbieland?”

You turn, though he isn’t facing you, eyes trained on the road. You keep looking at him anyway - this is progress at least.

“It’s pretty simple. First you drive, then you cycle, then take a boat, then a rocketship, then you stay in a campervan for a little while, then a snowmobile and voila! You’re rollerskating into LA.” You grin, recounting your adventure into the real world, happy to be able to share it with him. You’re not sure what it is about him, but there’s just something inside of you that’s desperate for him to get you. To care. 

Joel just grunts, rubbing his thumb and forefinger between his brows, and you’re worried for a second that he doesn’t believe you, again. But he doesn’t press, instead he seems to be thinking, and then he asks another question.

“How do you get back?”

“Gotta do all that in reverse,” you answer, giggling. You’re sure you can see the slightest pull of his lips, the hint of a smile, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared.

You decide to try and engage him, let him talk. “Do you like what you do? For work?”

He just grunts again, and your shoulders sink, giving up. He doesn’t want to talk to you. 

You decide not to press him further, but you can see him continue to glance at you a few times out of the corner of your eye, and there must be something in the air because he sighs before talking, a vulnerability in his voice.

“I used to. My Dad did it, contracting. Used to take me and my brother out every weekend and show us the trade. And when I started my business, that was good. Things were good. Now…” he trails off with a sigh.

“Things aren’t good?” You ask, trying to be careful. Trying to encourage him. 

He nods. “Things are different, now. Busy. It’s a hard business.”

You don’t reply, not because you don’t want to, but because you’re not sure how. Joel doesn’t seem to mind. After a few moments, he pulls up at a red light, switching gears and finally looking at you properly. 

“What do you do? In Barbieland?”

“Cowgirl,” you reply, being the one to avoid his gaze now.

“Cowgirl?” He repeats, and you only nod, offering a small smile and waiting for his reaction.

“So is that, like, on a ranch?” 

He’s switching gears again, cruising through the now green light and continuing the drive, muttering something about ‘almost there’ as you arrive in an upscale neighbourhood, lined with huge houses and cars that even the Barbies don’t have.

You shrug, self conscious, but you answer him. You owe him that. He did it for you. 

“No, just… you know. I wear the hat, and the denim and the boots. And I just… cowgirl. That’s what I do.”

He nods, and for the first time since you met him, you’re not nervous about what he’ll say next. You feel comfortable with him, safe even, and you’re not sure what it is about this little drive that’s flipped that switch, but you think he might feel the same way.

“Does it pay well?” He asks, a playfulness in his tone that you haven’t seen in him before. It’s like he’s lit up over the course of your conversation.

You grin, meeting his eyes properly now, where he draws away for a moment at a time to check the road but lets his gaze fall back on you straight after. 

“Better than contracting,” you sass. You’re not sure where the cockiness comes from, whether you’re matching his tone or you just feel that comfortable with him, and for a moment you’re worried you’ve offended him with the joke.

But then he laughs.

It’s not hysterics, but it isn’t an amused ‘huff’ either. It’s like a giggle, a bright, giddy laugh that spreads across his face and makes his eyes light up like stars in the sky. It’s beautiful. It’s sweet.

You tell him as much.

“You have a pretty smile.”

He slows a little, his mouth quickly reigning in its smile and his chest no longer bubbling with that sweetness it had before. But he doesn’t look angry, or offended. He looks as though he’s not quite sure what to do. Like no one’s ever told him that before.

“Thank you,” he whispers, the words quickly blowing away with the wind through the open window. You smile in reply, and he watches, neither of you seeming to notice that he’s stopped the car and you’ve reached your destination. Neither of you move.

And then he says the sweetest words you’ve ever heard. 

“So do you.”

It’s gentle, mumbled so lowly you almost think he doesn’t want you to hear it, and yet it hits you in the chest like a lorry. 

You’ve been told that before, of course you have. You’re a Barbie. Whether it’s the other Barbies complementing one another, or the Kens trying to flirt, or Allen just being the nice guy he is, you’ve heard those words before. 

But you’ve never heard them like this, like they’re hard to say, but they need to be said anyway. 

It’s powerful.

You smile again, so does he. You stay in the car a little while longer, in silence again, but it’s a silence laced with comfort and feelings you don’t know how to label. Until he finally breaks the spell, climbing out of the car and helping you out on your side.

He spends the day showing you his work, how to plan builds, how to measure up wood and mark all the right places to cut it. You learn there’s a key named after Allen, and Joel snorts when you tell him how excited you are to let him know that. He even lets you hammer a few nails, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your heart flutter when he puts his arms around you to guide your movements, his breath in your ear.

And things are good after that day. Really good.

The three of you spend time together, as much as you can, almost like a family. You’ve never experienced family before, true family, but when you’re sat on the sofa with Sarah on a cushion on the floor and Joel to your side, just out of reach, you wonder if this is what it means to be home.

Of course, you quickly understand what Sarah means when she says she’s lonely. You know exactly where that feeling in your chest is coming from, because the times he’s with you are so fleeting, so far and few inbetween, that it feels like gold dust when you have him and like a black hole when you don’t.

And it’s only been a week before you realise just what it means, these feelings, and how they’re not like anything you’ve felt before.

Sarah reads you like a book, cornering you one day as you play dress up in her room. 

“So, you like my Dad?” She asks, a knowing smirk already painted on her lips.

You splutter for a moment, trying to think of a rebuttal, but you give up because you know she has you nailed down. You know she knows.

“Is it that obvious?” You wince, making her grin spread even further. 

“Only, like, all the time,” she laughs, and you flip down on the bed dramatically, making her laugh more. “You know he likes you too, right?”

You sit up again in a flash, eyes wide and searching hers. She raises a brow as you stare, your mind racing - she wouldn’t joke about that, would she? “How do you know?” You ask.

She rolls her eyes, taking a seat beside you on the bed. “Oh come on, man. It’s so obvious. He always talks about you, Barbie said this, Barbie did that’.” She mocks his deep southern drawl, making you giggle. “And he’s always looking at you.”

You blush - you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed. You suppose a part of you just never let yourself believe he could feel the same way.

“What do you think I should do?” You’re nervous now, unsure of yourself. Unsure if this is real.

Sarah smiles, a cheeky sort of grin that doesn’t make you feel particularly at ease, and pats your knee with her hand. “Leave it with me.”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

She calls you down that night, late, not long after Joel came home from work. You switch off the documentary you were watching, something about the animal kingdom, one that amazed you with all the creatures that walk the earth around you. 

You tiptoe down the stairs, calling out Sarah’s name when you can’t find her in the front room, confused. You hear her again, distantly, like she’s outside, and you follow the sound through the kitchen and out the back door, where you’re greeted with the alluring smell of a sizzling barbecue.

“What is this?” You ask, stepping fully outside and taking in the scene. The backyard, usually overgrown and unkept, is littered with fairylights that wrap around the patio columns and line the fence right down to the end. The Miller’s barbecue is fired up, with an array of vegetable skewers and sausages and burgers cooking on top, Sarah proudly stood beside it in her apron while Joel watches, concerned.

Joel. He’s sat at the little table she’s put together, a round glass one with mismatched chairs on either side. He’s dressed up - his hair looks neater than usual, like he’s put extra care into styling it properly. His shirt isn’t plaid, or denim; it’s a light blue colour that matches the brown of his eyes so wonderfully. He looks nervous.

“Hi,” he says, gentle and soft. Your eyes must be wide and confused, because he doesn’t say anything else, just looks at Sarah for support. She rolls her eyes - again - and puts down the tongs she’d been using to flip the burgers. 

“You two are so boring pining over each other. So, I’ve set up a date!” She grins, turning back to the food without a care in the world.

You nod, taking another step forward, looking back toward Joel and not bothering to fight the smile that spreads on your face. 

He doesn’t fight his, either. 

You reach out for the chair opposite him, but before you can, he’s standing up and pulling it out for you, his eyes meeting yours.

Not one of the Kens have ever pulled out a seat for you, you think, thanking Joel and sitting on the little chair. He returns to his own seat, clearing his throat and pouring you a drink; red wine, a new favourite of yours since he introduced you to it. 

Sarah plates up the food, setting it down in front of you in a dramatic waiter-style fashion. 

“You’re certainly my daughter, huh?” Joel asks, pride in his eyes as he looks at the food, which you have to admit looks pretty damn good.

“The student has become the master,” she quips, and your heart melts at the sweet moment between the two. 

“Now, you two enjoy. I’ll be in my room. If you need anything… get it yourself. The kitchen is literally right there.”

You and Joel roll your eyes as Sarah bows out, laughing at her own jokes and giving a final wave as she heads into the house, leaving you both alone.

“So,” you begin, unsure of what to say.

“So.” Joel mimics, though you don’t think he plans to say anything after that. He’s not one to initiate conversation.

But then again, people can change. 

“You look really nice,” he says, his eyes so heavy set on you that it makes you feel flush. You look down, at the old baggy top you’re wearing over grey sweats, and you’re suddenly self conscious compared to his nice shirt and carefully-put hair.

“I don’t,” you reply, embarrassed. “I look like a mess.”

He interjects immediately. “No. You don’t. How could you? I mean you’re literally - you’re -“ he can’t find his words.

You finish the sentence for him. “A Barbie.”

“Yeah.”

You’re not sure why it makes you feel the way that it does. Sad. Like you’re not quite real to him, a novelty. He sighs, and for all the time you’ve spent with him by now, you can’t read what’s going on behind the man’s eyes at all.

You sit in silence for a short while, enjoying Sarah’s food, drinking wine. There’s something hanging in the air, heavy and strange, and neither of you know how to address it.

It surprises you when Joel finally breaks the silence again. “Do you miss home?” He asks, pouring you another glass.

You think for a moment. You answer honestly. “I don’t know.” His eyebrow quirks, motioning for you to continue.

“There was a time when I’d have never even dreamed of leaving Barbieland. When I didn’t want anything to change. But things are different now, since Ster- since Barbara left. Everyone thinks differently, feels differently. It’s a very different place. And suddenly everything that made me love Barbieland doesn’t matter to me anymore. The perfect wardrobe, the perfect house, the perfect life. None of that matters. It’s the things here, in this world, that matter.”

“What things?” Joel asks, and it’s only now that you notice his hand has migrated across the table, holding your much smaller one. You wrap your fingers around his, revelling in the small squeeze he gives you, fighting back a smile.

You’re staring at your interlocked hands when you answer. “Family. Purpose.” 

You look at him. “Love.”

He breathes out, like he’s letting something go, something that made him scared but doesn’t anymore. You squeeze his hand.

The rest of the night goes smoothly. It’s sweet, comfortable. It’s nice. 

Until you put your foot in it.

“Do you still feel lonely?” Joel asks, the buzz of red wine making his drawl even heavier.

You smile, glossy eyes doting on him, hands still intertwined. “Well, I felt lonely because Sarah felt lonely. So… no. I feel good.”

Joel frowns, his head tilts. “Do you know why she felt like that?”

You’re not sure how to approach this with him. It’s something you’ve thought about, pondered for days, turned over and over in your mind with no good resolution.

You know exactly why she felt like that. She told you as much.

My Dad’s never here. He’s always away, working. I don’t see him.

But you also know it’s a truth he won’t accept. Not easily, at least.

“Well,” you begin, treading lightly. “I think she just… misses you, Joel. Misses her Dad.”

He’s confused. He pulls away from you, his grip on your hand loosens. “But I’m here.” It’s an assertion, challenging your suggestion.

“I know, I know. But you’re not… you’re not here. You come home from work late, you’re tired, you go to bed. You wake up and before we can even say ‘good morning’ you’re out the door again, going to work.”

His jaw flickers, in that same way it did when you first met. He’s angry. 

“I do what i have to do to support my family,” he grumbles, fully retracting his hand now. You feel the loss of his touch instantly, in your heart. 

That same loneliness sets in again, but it’s not Sarah’s anymore. No, it belongs solely, wholly, to you.

You try to placate him. “I know, Joel, I know. I get it. I just -”

“Just what?” He interrupts you, and you pause, scared to speak. Scared to mess this up.

“She needs you to talk to her. She needs you to listen to her. She needs you to hold her and let her know she’s not alone. She doesn’t see that right now, Joel.”

He doesn’t reply, just stares into space, arms folded. Guarded.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“‘That how it works in Barbieland? Everyone gets what they want, everyone’s happy?” He asks, agitated.

You shake your head. “No, Joel, I-”

“‘Cos that’s not how the real world works, sweetheart. Everythin’ ain’t perfect. The trees ain’t made of cotton fuckin’ candy.” He sneers, mocking you, and the words pierce through you like knives.

“And I ain’t taking parenting advice from no Barbie doll.” 

That really, really hurts.

And it makes you angry, because for all your faults and weaknesses, being a Barbie certainly isn’t one of them.

“Why are you being so defensive?” You ask, your tone rising to match his. “You know I'm right. All that girl wants is her Dad, not a stranger who’s barely there, not a ghost that puts food on the table but won’t even come home on time for her. She wants her Dad, Joel.”

He stands, slamming his palms on the glass with so much force you fear it’ll shatter. He doesn’t shout, but his words are sharp, pointed, and they land exactly where he intended them to.

“You have no idea what it’s like. You’re stuck in your fantasy world, where everything’s pink, but you haven’t got a clue what it’s like to live in the real world. So why don’t you head back to your special Barbieland and leave the actual living, the hard parts, to the rest of us, huh?”

Tears threaten to spill on your cheeks, your eyes burning from the strain of holding them back. “Joel, you don’t mean that-”

“Yes, I do. Just… just get out of my house.” 

He walks away from the table, crossing his arms and facing away from you, staring out into the night. You nod, to yourself if no one else, breaking your strength as a sob racks through your body. You clasp a shaking hand to your mouth, not wanting him to hear you, but you see the way his shoulders clench. He heard. 

He doesn’t react further, though. Doesn’t turn. Doesn’t make sure you’re okay.

So you do what he said. You leave.

You stalk past Sarah, wiping away the onslaught of tears that have taken hold now, ignoring her as she shouts between you and Joel. “Guys? What’s going on?”

She doesn't follow you upstairs, choosing to give you space and speak to her Dad instead, you think. You text Barbara, asking her to pick you up, and shove your clothes into your bag as quickly as you can in spite of your blurred vision and the messy hair that covers your face. 

You’re not sure how long it’s been, you’d have only thought seconds if you didn’t know Barbara’s hotel was at least 10 minutes away, but you hear her beep the horn from outside and follows its direction.

Sarah’s waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. You look down the hall, where Joel sits at the kitchen counter, arms still folded and head down.

“Please,” Sarah begs, “don’t go.” She’s crying, and it makes your heart hurt more.

“I have to.” 

You try to move past her, but she stops you, blocking the way with her body. “Sarah, I have to,” you repeat, choking on your own sobs.

“Why?” She shouts, hot tears staining her face. “My Dad told me what happened. You’re right. He’s wrong, he’s always wrong. He’s never here, but you are, and now you’re leaving me like everyone else. Like my Mom.”

Your nose scrunches. More tears fall. Your chest hurts. “I’m not your Mom, Sarah. And your Dad… he loves you. He loves you so much. Promise me you’ll remember that, okay? He loves you. I love you.”

She doesn’t stop you when you try to leave again. You all but run out the door, the once comfortable night air now painful as it hits your wet cheeks, ice cold. Barbara looks at you with more concern than you’ve seen her with before, more than when she discovered the Mojo Dojo Casa Houses, but you say nothing as you get in the car. You just stare straight ahead, and she drives.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

“I’m so sorry, Barbie. I never thought it’d end like this.”

Barbara’s holding your hands, reluctant to let go. You don’t know when you’ll see her again. “It’s not your fault,” you reply, and it’s true. It’s not her fault. It’s yours.

“And it isn’t yours, Barbie,” she retorts, like she can read your mind. You just nod, unconvincing, but she doesn’t push it.

You hug her, for the millionth time since she took you home from Joel and Sarah’s house, since she flew back to LA with you. And now here you are, at Venice Beach with your roller skates on, going back to the place you’ve always called home.

So why does it feel like you’re going anywhere but?

“Thank you for everything, Barbara. I mean it.” You pull back, wiping a tear from her cheek and smiling the best you can, your own tears rolling down your face like the skaters behind you.

She smiles back, and though she doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t need to. You know she loves you. You know she’ll miss you.

And with that, you pull away, pushing on each skate until you’re rolling away from the real world and back into your own. Back where you belong, where you’re supposed to be. Where you’re actually wanted.

There are people pointing, laughing at you as you skate past them, but you don’t care. You haven’t cared about anything since last night.

You can see the snowscape ahead, the next part of your journey. Your next step towards Barbieland and a world of pink perfection.

A world that isn’t the same to you now.

You’re nearly there, about to switch skates for the snowmobile, when a familiar, desperate voice comes from behind you.

“Barbie! Barbie, wait!”

You brake, skates screeching on the ground, as you turn to search for him in the crowd.

And there he is, Joel, clinging to a ramp on the left side of the park with the most ridiculous pair of neon green roller skates you’ve ever seen.

“Joel?” You call, immediately rolling over to him when you realise how much he’s struggling. If you weren’t so filled with the joy of seeing him here, you’d laugh at the state he’s in; eyes wide and legs falling beneath him, clearly not used to roller skating. “What are you doing here?”

“I- I wanted to- jesus, if I could just stand up-” You giggle, and he shoots you a look, which just makes you laugh harder. You help him up, laying a gentle hand on his chest as he nearly falls again, your other hand clinging to his waist as he finally finds his balance.

He’s blushing, embarrassed, but there’s something else in his eyes as they finally settle on you and he sighs. “Barbie, I’m so sorry.”

You’re not sure where to look. At him, at your hands, at those ridiculous roller skates he’s wearing. Of course, you can’t pull your eyes from him, anyway.

“It’s - it’s okay. You were right anyway, I’m not-”

“No, no,” he interrupts, placing both hands on your cheeks and quickly stumbling as he loses his balance again without the support of the rail. You hold him, giggling as he almost brings you both down, though you manage to keep him upright and he laughs right there with you.

“Jesus, this is embarrassing,” he finally huffs, and your head falls against his chest. When you raise it again, he’s already looking at you, with those big brown eyes that you never want to forget.

“I wasn’t right. I was an asshole. A huge, insecure asshole.” You try to shake your head, to disagree, but he doesn’t let you. “Just let me say this,” he begs. You let him.

“You were right. I haven’t been there for her. I haven’t been the Dad she needs me to be. I’m just… I’m just scared. Of not being good enough. Of letting her down. So I work, and come home late, and leave early, and I convince myself it’s the right thing to do. But I’m hurting her. And I hurt you.”

There’s pain in his eyes, and it pains you as if they were your own. 

“I haven’t seen Sarah this happy in a long time,” he continues, resting a hand on your cheek again, carefully this time. “Barbie, I haven’t been this happy in a long time.”

You don’t know what to say. You take your hand from his waist, tentative, making sure the other one is stable on his chest. You place it over his where it rests on your cheek, folding your fingers around his own, and turning to press a gentle kiss into his palm. He mumbles something, you don’t hear what, but from the look in his eyes you think you know.

“Don’t go,” he begs. “Don’t - don’t go back there. I want you here. You belong here.”

You look into his eyes. You know he means it. 

And so you do the only thing that makes any sense in this moment. 

You kiss him.

You’re careful to keep him upright, but he seems to have stopped caring about that; instead both hands are on you again, frantic, holding you tight like he never wants to lose you again.

When you finally break the kiss, neither of you pull away from one another, your foreheads connected and breaths intertwined. 

“Okay,” you gasp, pulling on his shirt. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

Joel closes his eyes again, sighing in relief as you finally release your other hand, touching it to his neck and feeling the rapid pulse that beats against it. You’re holding one another so closely, so tightly, that there’s no way he can fall now.

“You’ll come back to Texas?” He asks, like he still doesn’t quite believe you.

You nod again, giggling at the joy that spreads on his face, though it’s quickly muffled when he kisses you again. And again, and again and again until you’re breathless and sweaty and no longer sure which of you needs help staying upright the most.

You help him turn, wrapping your arms around his waist and supporting him as you try to make your way back across the park, and only then do you see Barbara and Sarah stood to the sidelines, watching, smiling.

You realise Sarah has her phone out, pointed at her Dad, and you’re pretty sure Joel sees it too but before he can say anything, he slips again and falls flat on his bum on the floor, bringing you right down with him.

You gasp, cushioned by his chest and his protective arms around you, laughing hysterically as he groans and sits up. You watch as his face turns from pain into anger, his eyes fixated on something ahead, and you think you know what it is-

“Sarah! Delete that video right now!”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

Tag list: @vickie5446 @skysmiller @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @letmehavemyfictionalmen

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Spooky season needs spooky stuff.. >:3

So can I request the digital circus cast (minus Caine)meeting a Child Spirit Y/n headcanons,who like Kinda possesed/went inside the game to find they’re killer for some reason? They are eerily quiet and like to stare but if talked to very sweet but quick to snap in distrust because..well trust is what got them killed in the first place? They’re a bit bloody..and a eyeball sometimes hangs out?? Like vhs horror stuff

Sorry I’m being so descriptive,I hope you are a nice day!

OOOoo yes time for more spooks!

Also I am having a nice night, thanks! (and I hope you are having a nice day/night too!)

......

Pomni

To make a long story short, you got murdered while wearing the headset, and that tethered your spirit to TADC.

As expected, you lost memories of who you were--except for the knowledge that someone killed you because you trusted them too much, and you believed the answers were inside this very game.

Your character ends up looking like a child's ghost costume: a white bedsheet stained in blood and one of your eyeballs occasionally wanting to pop from its socket.

Caine (who was very much bewildered at your arrival) declares that you're part of an "exclusive Halloween update" and changes up the tent and grounds to have more spooky flair.

But Pomni clearly wants no part of it, and she can tell you don't either.

You're clearly a kid who is (somehow) handling the situation of being stuck in this game better than her, yet when she tries asking you about it....all you do is stare back.

She swears she can hear static noises and whispers she can't decipher--all in all getting a...very creepy vibe from you.

Initially she decides to keep her distance, afraid you were secretly some virus or Abstraction underneath that sheet.

But that changes when you're walking by the rooms one night, and you pass by Pomni's door, hearing her quietly crying.

Although you weren't inclined to get close to anybody here, you were concerned. And since you weren't actually coded into the game, you didn't have to follow any of its rules--and that allowed you to enter her room without a key.

At first you scared the shit out of her, but after realizing it's you, she lets you sit beside her, eventually venting about how badly she missed her real home.

"Everyone keeps telling me "oh this place is so much better" or "get used to it"...but what if I don't wanna do that? I don't care if my old life was bad...I-I can't take anymore of this.." Her sobs grow louder. "I wanna wake up in my own bed knowing my real name!!"

"...I miss home, too," is all you say in response. Yet it's more than enough to calm her down.

For once, you're not trying to brush her off or force her to "cheer up" and accept her reality. You made her feel heard.

"Yeah..me, too....sh-should I thank you for agreeing..?" She sniffles, seeing your subtle nod, before you leave her be, not wanting to get too attached.

Ironically, she was able to sleep a little easier after talking to you.

Jax

From the get-go, he's gonna be real nosy and curious.

Since not even Caine himself expected your arrival and found out that you don't follow the "rules" like everyone else...Jax is gonna try his damnedest to understand you and see what makes you tick.

But he's gonna be disappointed quickly since you don't respond much to him (or anybody in general).

"So...ya like Halloween?"

"........"

"....thought so. Good talk, new kid."

You definitely act like a legit ghost--doing nothing but stare, move things around, and pop up unexpectedly.

Eventually, his curiosity leads to him visiting your room (which has no key), and he discovers many drawings on the walls.

Most depicting a dead person wearing a headset.

What he found most disturbing was a journal that contained his and the others' names..

From what he's gathering...you're suspecting one of them of murdering your real world-self.

But he doesn't get much time to ponder this as you show up, angry at him for intruding.

You make yourself look even bloodier and scarier, with both of your eyeballs hanging from their sockets and staring at him.

"Get out."

Those two simple words put the fear of god in him.

Jax runs out faster than a jackrabbit, colliding with Gangle in the process. Her comedy mask falls off again, but he catches it and looks at her.

"J-Jax..?" She realizes his fur is standing up on all ends, and he looks terrified....even more than he did after realizing the circus was his forever home.

But he just shoves the mask back into her hands and leaves without saying a word.

He never speaks of what he found in your room that day.

Kinger

He thought his eyes were weird...until you came along and periodically had to put your own eyeball back into its socket.

"It's good to know I'm not alone!" He nervously chuckles, only to be met with your eerie silence.

Sometime later, he suggests showing you his insect collection, and it does pique your interest.

You did love all things "creepy" and "crawly".

Yet you're adamant about going to his pillow fortress after he invites you.

It reminds you of the ones you used to build all the time, up until...

Fortunately, Kinger recognizes your reluctance and just brings one of his bug boxes to you so you can look at it.

He could infodump about the various critters for hours, with nothing but nods and quiet "mhms" from you, and he's happy.

In general, he doesn't mind your quiet personality.

Although you still sometimes jumpscare him unintentionally like Gangle often does.

Tbh he's a good father figure and recognizes that you're just a kid who got trapped in this game unfairly.

Even so, you try to keep your distance and looks at him suspiciously if he starts acting too nice.

He was quiet aloof, and you weren't sure how he would act on any given day.

Gangle

After accidentally spooking her (by simply existing in the same room as her), she breaks her comedy mask off.

But immediately she feels guilty for screaming and tries scrambling to fix it, hoping you weren't mad at her.

Yet all you do is stare, not looking angry or anything at all (it's hard for any of the performers to see your expression in general, aside from your hanging eye, but still).

Poor Gangle is just afraid you'd turn into a scarier version of yourself.

When she keeps cutting her ribbon fingers(?) on the ceramic pieces, you come over and clean it up for her, taking it away despite your own hands bleeding.

The implications that you were able to shed blood and nobody else were a little disturbing to her..but she's glad you're not offended by her screaming.

Although she wonders where you're going with her mask..

Later on, you knock on her door and present it fully fixed.

Except...it looks more Halloweenish with an evil smile painted on it, messily glued together.

'Oh god I hope this doesn't turn me evil or anything..' She thinks, putting on a smile as she takes it anyways.

Yet you remain where you are, staring and clearly waiting for her to try it on.

And so she does, and it turns her into a very chaotic Halloween lover, acting even more mischievous than Jax and allowing her to finally get her revenge for all his pranks.

In the end, you gain a decent friendship with her, subtly protecting her from Jax's bullying.

Ragatha

Seeing that you're so distant from the rest of the gang has her worried.

Some of them might consider your loose eyeball creepy, but she's not gonna judge you on that (besides, she's missing an eye altogether so she can't say much anyways).

Howeve,r she's the first to find out how strong your distrust of everyone is.

"[Y/n]? I don't think it's good to be isolating yourself like this. I know you hate being here and Caine's a weirdo..but...we're all in this together. You can trust us-"

"Don't." You warn, putting on a frightening display of anger that sends her tumbling to the ground, sending chills up her spine.

"Trust" became something you didn't take lightly, as the last time you put your trust in someone....you ended up dead, turning into a literal ghost in the machine (that was your gaming system).

Despite this, Ragatha doesn't run away.

Like Pomni, she understands that you're just a kid who's confused and lost.....and clearly had serious trust issues.

But she's determined to help you through that, even if you keep scaring everybody away.

She's got motherly instincts, and she hopes that in due time you'll learn to warm up to her.

Zooble

"A bedsheet worn as a costume? That's a classic."

She's seen weirder things during their time in the circus, so you don't faze her too much.

Only when you snap at Ragatha or somebody who was trying to be nice to you does she raise an eyebrow.

Honestly, they 100% understand that you just wanted to be alone sometimes, and she respects that.

It's suffocating trying to act all cheery and go along with every damn activity Caine tries to get everyone involved in (but lucky for you, he can't make you follow along).

Especially since she believes he made up that stupid "Halloween update" as lazy way to explain your sudden arrival.

The only time you do interact with Zooble is after she yanks Jax by his ears, and they hear this eerie-sounding giggle behind them.

When she turns around, you're just standing there motionless, staring at her.

Somehow, they just know you were smiling underneath that costume, which makes her smile, too.

"Maybe I should pull him out a hat next time, huh?" She jokes after letting him go, and you giggle once more as he hits the ground.

[azsazz]

Winter Winds

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Anon req: ik you probably won’t get to this in a while but i just read “in ribbons” and absolutely loved it!! got me so hot and bothered. anyway, thinking abt az, reader, and the kids got me thinking…what if the entire ic and their kids are all at wind haven for some trip or something. the oldest kids are pre teens, a bit older maybe. while at the camps, someone attacks the reader and she’s like seriously hurt. like seriously seriously hurt. az goes ballistic, and all the kids get so worried. but especially the older ones, maybe wren baz and zuzu, they get super angry and want to help az get revenge for their mother? 

Warnings: Injury, mentions of blood and gore. Traumatized children but they are otherwise unharmed.

Word Count: 4,921

Notes: You didn’t think I forgot about posting today, did you? Silly. I didn’t make them pre-teens, they’re I guess a bit younger than that but close, but I think I’ve got most of the idea in here, except the revenge part. Sorry about that and sorry in advance this one’s kinda sad.

_________________________________________

“Daddy?!”

His son’s frantic voice slices up his spine like an icy blade, plunging deep and cleaving him in half.

At the sound, Azriel’s body flashes hot with adrenaline and everything else slows to a crawling pace.

He spins on his heel instantly, ignoring the grumbling of the camp warlord who’d been reporting to him, now muttering under his breath about letting his savage brood run wild in the camps, that he doesn’t know how to raise them.

His family means more to him than anything, and that terrified shout from his son to grab his attention isn’t one he’s heard in years.

Something is very very wrong.

Azriel’s heart stammers in his chest like the frantic beat of wings in war when he locks eyes with his second oldest son, Baz.

He shouldn’t be out here alone, even if he has been in the training camps for nearly two years now and knows his way around. If any of the warriors had grabbed him and thought to teach the Azriel a lesson through his child…the spymaster shivers at the thought.

The more pressing concern, the one that makes his brows twitch into confusion and fuels his feet forward and nearly halts his heart in his chest, is that young Baz isn’t dressed for the cold. The Illyrian mountains in the peak of Winter could give even the most attuned warrior frostbite in mere minutes, and Baz isn’t even wearing a coat.

Worse yet, there’s tears streaming down his ruddy cheeks, cherry red from his journey.

He must’ve run the entire way to meet him in boots that are untied and tripping him in his haste to find his father. If someone’s stolen his jacket Azriel will be the last thing they see as he–

Azriel’s slipping out of his own coat, uncaring that the snaps rip open by the base of his wings. He needs to get his son bundled up, and quickly, before he comes down with something worse than the cold Azriel already knows is in his future. He scoops Baz into his arms, wrapping him carefully and hugging him close to his chest. His shadows swirl around both of them, already preparing to winnow them away.

“What’s wrong buddy?” he’s whispering, wiping the tears from his son's bruning face. Sometimes he and his older brother will get into arguments that have one of the boys running to Azriel in a fit full of tears but never something quite like this. Baz knows how to put his coat and tie up his boots and not to run across the camp alone–

The little boy in his arms releases a sob that nearly shatters the snowy peaks of the mountains surrounding them, “Mommy���”

He doesn’t need to continue. Azriel winnows them back to the house without a second thought, hugging Baz tightly to his chest, lips pressed to the crown of his sweaty black hair. He hopes that his son can’t feel him trembling, fisting his hands in his coat to stop the shaking. If something has happened to you he doesn’t know what he will do. How he will survive.

But he would’ve felt it, if there was something wrong, through the bond you share. He lets his shields slide down, reaching out for that golden thread, the one that feels like warm summer winds in the night sky, your hand caressing his soul.

There’s nothing.

Azriel gives a sharp tug but receives no response as he and his son arrive in a mass of black shadows on the front porch. The bond grows more taut with worry the more he tries, desperate pleas for you to respond that go unanswered as he shoves the door open with a heavy boot. 

The house is in complete chaos.

His shadows scatter immediately, searching and returning with whispers of bloody fingerprints on the counter top, streaking across the wall in his bedroom, on the doorknob to the bathroom, while he frantically searches the room for the rest of his children.

Horror coils his gut at the scent of his mate’s blood, thick in the air. It makes him choke, hot and heavy in the back of his throat.

Azriel sets Baz down, nearly tearing the door off of its hinges when he shuts it and turns the lock. He allows himself a single drawn out breath while his mind reels for a plan of action.

Wren looks more worried than his little brother, though Azriel knows that his eldest is trying his best to keep his emotions together for his siblings.

He had a screaming Jax in his arms, the younger boy clearly distraught about the heightened feelings of anxiety and concern smothering him. He reaches up for Azriel as Wren carries the struggling babe closer, trying his best to keep hold of his brother.

“Dad,” Wren breathes a sob of relief, but Az notes the twins in their playpen, Malos’ cries are loud enough for the silent wailing babe beside her, four sets of tiny hands curled around the brim of the pen with white knuckled fingers.

“Wren, I need you to watch your siblings for a little bit longer, okay?” Azriel’s voice is strained with tension as he calls out to Rhysand in his head, his golden eyes a hair wider as he searches the room for Zuzu. He rubs a reassuring thumb across Wren’s cheek and over Jax’s hair, trying to calm the little boy down. “Uncle Rhys and Uncle Cass will be here any minute, alright bub? They’re going to take us all to the River House.”

Wren’s lip quivers but he’s squaring his shoulders as he looks up at his father, “Mommy’s hurt.”

“I know,” it pains him to say it, but by now he knows, “I’m going to get her, will you and Baz help the little ones put on their shoes please?”

Wren nods and sets to work helping his father while Azriel rushes towards the bathroom where his shadows have located both Zuzu and you.

He finds Zuzu is sitting in front of the bathroom door, banging on it as she wails for you. Her throat must be raw from the screaming because she sounds horse, tears dripping down her face and snot bubbling from her nose.

Azriel hears Rhys and Cassian appear in the living room, and he lifts Zuzu up from under her arms as Cassian appears, his first thought to help his brother.

“Az–” Cassian sounds nervous for his brother. When he’d gotten the call a short time ago telling him that he and Rhys needed to pick up the children because something had happened to you his heart dropped, terrified for his best friend.

“Just take her, please,” Azriel pleads, letting the worry he feels coat his words. His throat is tight with emotion and he doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be able to keep himself from going berserk because he can see the red painted handprint on the brass knob and the smell of your blood is overpowering.

“I’ve got her,” Cassian nods, and the look in his hazel eyes gives Azriel brings forth that last shred of hope as his brother turns away and he twists the knob.

His knees nearly give out at the sight of you, unconscious and lying in a pool of your own blood. You look paler under the luminescent faelights, the hand holding together the gaping wound in your side now slack in the puddle of crimson.

Your name is a cry of helplessness on his lips as he dives forward, knees cracking against the tiles as he slides closer, pressing his fingers to the pulse point in your neck and caressing your face with the other, a shaky hand brushing the hair back from your face.

His shadows have alerted him that you’re breathing, but barely so, and he releases a shaky breath because he wasn’t able to feel the barely there beat of your pulse beneath his fingers with how badly they’re desensitized from his own burns and the pounding of his own heart.

But Gods–the gash in your side is something a warrior would receive in battle, like you have taken a long sword to the side, your flesh tearing open, muscles and blood and–

No, he doesn’t want to think about whether he sees an organ or not. No, he needs to focus on stopping the bleeding. Azriel can’t help but think, his beautiful mate…who has done this to you?

Rhys and Cass both appear within seconds, having called for the best healers in Velaris to the River House, where his children now are, under the care of the High Lady and Inner Circle themselves.

“Az,” Rhysand murmurs, hardly louder than a simple breath as he takes in the state of the room. His spymaster, on his knees in a pool of your blood as he tries his best to stop the bleeding. The towel you had grabbed is already sopping wet with blood and there’s no signs of it slowing.

His wings are drooped low behind him, the slippery warmth of the floor against the thin velvety skin is a reminder of exactly how much blood you have lost.  Had he been any later, had you not sent Baz–

“Help me.”

It makes both brothers freeze, the utter helplessness, the devastation in Azriel’s voice, so small, so soft, unlike anything they’ve ever heard.

They jump into action.

“Az,” Cassian approaches him like he’s approaching a wild beast, unsure of how to approach this side of him, soft footing and hands raised in surrender. The spymaster lets his brother place a hand on his shoulder, turn him from his spot so that they’re looking at each other.

Cassian has never seen Azriel so panicked, not in the 500 years they’ve been best friends. Not through the wars, the nightmares, the births…not even through the mild complications you’d gone through when the twins were born. No, he was a solid wall, not an ounce of emotion had cracked through the barriers he had built, but this…

His chest heaves with every breath he takes, short and quick and filled with anxiety. Azriel’s hands are vibrating when Cassian takes them in his own. He doesn’t care that he’s kneeling in your blood, that Az’s hands are slippery with it, all he cares about are his friends.

“Az,” he tries again, and the usual honeyed gaze of the shadowsingers meets his own. He’d startled him. Can see the swirling emotions racing behind his eyes; the hatred, the scared, the utter fear, his mind unable to grasp onto one feeling long enough to put thought into it. “We’re going to take you to the River House, okay?”

He’d carry him if he had to, but Rhys can get the job done. There’s worry that Azriel might explode, break completely in his hands and let the beast within him finally take over. And if that happens, he’s glad the children are far away, because no one, not even Cassian nor Rhysand, will stop him from turning the Illyrian camps into nothing more than a tornado of black mist.

Azriel isn’t seeming to comprehend what he’s saying, head tilting down to look at where his hands rest in Cassian’s grip, thumb sliding through the cooling blood on his hands like it’s not the ichor of his mate, painting his hands the color of Cassian’s siphons.

Rhys comes around the both of them, crouching to place a hand on each of their shoulders. The wisps of darkness that carry them through the planes of the continent must strike something within Azriel because he’s tensing under his touch and wrenching away.

“Az,” Rhys commands softly, hands raised to show no sign of wanting to corral his brother’s anger, “The babes are right in there.”

The reaction from his statement is near instant, locking down his emotions little by little like the scales of his armor retracting into his leathers, until there is almost nothing left.

Azriel spins on his heel, already heading towards the shut door between him and the muffled cries of his children on the other side.

Cassian steps into his path, stopping him. 

He watches the spymaster assess him with a trained eye but Cassian’s already weighed his brother's reactions in his head, being a true warlord himself. There is no way he will let the children see their father like this, worked up with their mother’s blood all over them.

Rhys draws the attention of the shadowsinger again, both Illyrians goading him like a tiger waiting to strike, “(Y/N) is this way. She’s with Madja and her best healers.”

The sound of your name strikes him low, chest caving and reaching down the bond for you again, knowing there will be no response, a wall of icy metal stopping him from entering.

Azriel glances at the door again, but makes his way towards the room you’ve been hauled off to, worried for your wellbeing.

The saliva is thick in his mouth as he ascends the stairs, his brothers tight on his flanks. His hands are curled into tight fists and he can feel the cracking of your blood on his hands in a way that would normally be calming if it were anyone else's blood, but not yours.

Never yours.

He pushes into the room and doesn’t look at the wound or the few nursemaids that are crouching over you. He doesn’t look at the bowls of water stained crimson, the towels dripping or the clothes they’d cut you out of, he keeps his focus on your closed eyes.

He’s quick to find his place at your side, perching out of the way as he reaches for your hand but freezes when he catches sight of his own.

“Here,” Cassian’s soft voice has him looking up, the warlord holding a freshly damp rag for him to take, not even a touch of red on it.

His throat works against a swallow as Azriel takes it, scrubbing his hands like he’s the one who’d rubbed his skin down to the bone and left these scars.

He does the best that he can without spiraling. He’s had blood on his hands before, many times, but the fact that it’s your blood has him reeling, immediately stopping the work on cleaning his own hands in favor of helping you clean yours.

When he’s done he hands it back to Cassian who gives him a soft nod and a sad smile. Neither are the things he wants to see right now. All he wants to see is you opening your eyes and looking at him, smiling, laughing, unharmed.

There’s nothing else to do but wait, which he does so quietly, stroking his thumb across your forehead while his other keeps your limp hand firmly tucked in his grasp. 

He doesn’t look at the wound they’re stitching up, but he can’t help himself from reaching down the bond every few minutes, silently praying to the Mother that you will respond.

His brothers wait by the door. Rhys lets Cassian get cleaned up and check on the children while he watches Azriel from across the room, his own heart aching for his brother in this situation, to be near his own mate at a time like this.

But he stays put because that’s what any of them would do for each other, even when Cassian comes back, hands clean and clothes new, no traces of your blood on him.

They know that there will be no moving Azriel from your side to clean up, so they don’t even try. When Feyre dips her head into the room, catching a glance at you and your mate on the lone bed, a handful of healers working frantically around, they share a look.

It’s Rhys who approaches him this time, making sure his footsteps are heard by the shadowsinger as he nears.

He watches Azriel’s shoulders pull up taut, his spine stiffening and shadows curling his rounded ear that the High Lord is approaching.

His golden gaze is a harsh glare, a warning to stay away, and although Rhys understands the look, it still hurts.

“Az, maybe you should get cleaned up,” he suggests softly, keeping a healthy distance away from the bed. The healers have started sewing up your wound, having been able to stop the blood and stabilize you, and their work will be done soon.

The shadowsinger’s face doesn’t change as he looks back down at you, dismissing Rhys with that single action.

“The kids,” he tries, “They’re worried. They want to see you.” 

Azriel nearly startles at the mention of his children. They’d been half scared to death when he’d last seen them, frantic and worried about their mother just as much as he was. He can see them all clearly, Wren trying to be strong, Baz’s red face wet with tears, Zuzu and Jax and the twins all crying out for help, understanding that something was horribly wrong.

“The kids,” he murmurs, as if he’s not even there. Azriel pets your hair again, smoothing his fingers down your cheek, across your lips, finding their way to the juncture of your jaw and throat, where your pulse is.

Rhysand waits with a baited breath as Azriel counts, comes to whatever conclusion in his mind that he can, grasping for some sort of sign that you might be okay.

The beating of your heart is constant, evened out even though one of the nurses has already told him as much. He won’t leave you if he doesn’t think you’ll be okay.

But he knows you would want him to make sure the children are okay, so he places a kiss on your hand, ignoring how the warmth hasn’t quite returned to it completely, before settling it comfortably at your side and standing from the bed.

He follows his brothers from the room and as soon as the door snicks shut behind him and the wail of Zuzu is carried to him on the whisper of a shadow, he breaks.

He makes a break for his children, his flight sense kicking in but he’s hauled backwards into the arms of Cassian, holding him tightly across the chest as he struggles. 

If he were in his right mind he’d be able to figure a way out of his hold.

“Az, you have blood all over you,” Cassian grits, his breath puffing with the struggle of keeping Azriel in his hold. He’s writhing like an animal, trying to tear his way through whomever he needs to to get to his family. “You can’t go in there like this. You’ll scare them.”

That makes him stop struggling, worming his way out of Cassian’s touch.

“But Baz didn’t have a jacket on–”

“He’s already been looked at by a healer,” Rhys supplies, trying to calm the skittish shadowsinger.

“And Zuzu’s been screaming her head off,” he retorts just as easily, mind reeling at how his children must be feeling.

“She’s been given a soothing tea for her throat,” Cassian adds, fiercely protective of them as he is his own children.

“And Jax–”

“Jax is an empath,” Rhys agrees, ushering Azriel towards the other end of the hallway, “And it’s normal for him to react like that with all of the emotions running rampant in the room at the time. You need to calm yourself down if you are to hold him, your reactions will harm him more than Wren’s. For now he’s fine. They’re all okay, Azriel. Here and in one piece, waiting for you.”

Azriel’s wide eyes are glossy as he looks between his brothers, back and forth as if he’s searching for anything other than the truth there.

He won’t.

“They’re okay?” he asks again, not quite sure he believes it.

Both of his brothers nod, “They’re okay Az. Promise.”

.·:·.☽ ✦ ☾.·:·.

You feel like utter shit.

Like you’ve been carved down to the bone with a blade. There’s a pounding in your head and when you open your eyes the room spins, bright with light. Your head goes with it, the whispers of words striking like a bell tower to your brain.

“(Y/N)?”

That voice silences everything.

You squeeze his hand, blinking against the faelights until the three Azriel’s you see finally become one, perfect, mate.

“Az,” you breathe.

He bites his lip, hardly able to contain the relief he feels in this moment. He knows you’ve just opened your eyes but he’s squeezing his shut tight and resting his forehead gently against your own.

And the bond floods with warmth, his breath catching in his throat.

“I’m here,” your free hand finds his hair, smoothing through it the best that you can in your weakened state, “I’m here, Love.”

He nearly whimpers, would have if his mind hadn’t gone immediately into spymaster mode, seeing you awake.

He pulls away from you all too quickly, sitting straight in his spot beside you, the golden glow of his iris’ swimming with dark shadows.

“Who.” he asks, and it’s not a question. It’s the only word he can get out, voice dipped in steel and as sharp as the blade he’s been filing for the days you’ve been under rest.

“Some old relative,” you cough, throat dry, and you hiss at the pull in your stitches. Azriel is quick to help you drink some water down, soothing the roughness in your voice and the pounding in your head. “Claimed to be so, at least.”

“Fucking bastards,” he spits, the shadows in his eyes sweeping into hot, angry flames, “I’ll kill every single fucking one of them.”

“Az,” you sigh. You love your mate dearly and this is about as normal a reaction as you would expect from him, but you’re so achingly tired. “Are the kids okay?”

He shudders at the thought of something happening to your children and kisses across your knuckles, your hand in his shaking ones. 

“Yes, the babes are fine.”

You settle a bit more, knowing that truth. The fact that Azriel has referred to them as babes shows you just how terrified he truly is.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers, propping his chin where your hand is holding his.

“Tired,” you offer, because you’re afraid that a joke might push him over the edge. “Can I see my babies?”

Azriel looks like he might protest. You’ve been changed and brought to a different room once the painkillers and healing drinks the nurses had forced down your throat had begun to work, but he thinks of his rowdy children and your fresh injury, he worries for you.

But you’re pleading, “Please, Love. I need to see them.” And he gets it.

Because he finds himself needing to see them as well.

“Drink some more water, tell me what happened, and I’ll get Rhys to bring them in.”

You hold his gaze, nodding finally. 

Azriel helps you drink some more water, nearly a whole glass before you begin.

“I was on my way back from the mercantile,” you start, swallowing harshly as you wrack your brain for what had happened. “Just a quick trip to get some treats for the little ones,” you laugh dryly, tears welling up in your eyes. Azriel’s quick to thumb them away, caressing your cheek with his warm hand.

“I didn’t see him coming until it had already happened,” you admit shamefully. Your mate had taught you better than that and you had failed him.

Your mate sends nothing but warmth down the bond because while you may have been taken by surprise, he knows you didn’t go down without a fight.

“I didn’t understand how bad it was until after he was laying in the snow next to me and I looked at my torn coat and saw all the blood.”

You remember crying out as his blade slashed across your body and took you to your knees. You’d been able to act through the pain, kicking a foot out behind you and sweeping your attackers feet from under him. 

It was easier to pry the longsword from his hands when he was gasping for air and even easier to make sure he never took another breath again.

“I don’t remember getting home,” you exhale a shaky breath, “I was just holding my side and there was so much blood Az, so much blood.”

He shushes you softly, upset with himself that he’s asked you to share this story. If he had known your attacker was dead he wouldn’t have asked and before he can try and stop you you’re already continuing.

“I was afraid to go home,” you admit, and his hand clutches yours tighter, “I didn’t want the babes to see me like this.”

Your admission hangs over the both of you, loud in the otherwise silent room.

“I’m glad you did,” Azriel’s voice is thick with emotion, “If you hadn’t and I had lost you…”

“You didn’t,” you reassure, maybe for the both of you, “Let’s not think about that.”

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever be able to think about anything else but he nods, agreeing.

“I hid it the best I could, but you know Wren,” the thought of your oldest brings a smile to your face, “He’s so smart, that one. I told him to watch the babes for me while I went to clean up and he tried to talk to me, tried to ask me what was wrong but I just kept going, telling him that I was fine and would be out in a minute…” you trail off because you weren’t out in a minute. On the floor unconscious in a minute more like.

Azriel kisses your knuckles, lingering on your fourth finger before he answers, “He told Baz to come get me. I was talking to a commander and he came running up screaming and crying out for me. Scared me shitless I tell ya. Didn’t even have a coat on.”

Your eyes bulge and you try to sit up, distressed over your son out in the mountains without a coat, “Is he–'' your question is cut off by a hiss and Azriel’s on his feet guiding you back down onto the bed, gentle hands on your shoulders. 

“He’s alright, Love. They all are. Got them all checked on while they were helping you. Not even a sniffle,” Azriel soothes. He relaxes when your shoulders droop and you settle back into the pillows.

“Thank you,” you whisper, thumb brushing across his knuckles, “I love you.”

“I love you too, (Y/N). So fucking much,” he breathes, shuddering when you caress his cheek.

You tug on him weakly, puckering your lips for a kiss that he easily ducks down for, the tension melting away from his body now that you’re awake in his arms.

“Can I see them now?” you ask as soon as you pull away. Your mate huffs playfully, already calling out to Rhys in his mind.

The door slams open, Wren and Baz racing into the room with the Inner Circle hot on their heels. Rhys is holding Zuzu, Feyre’s hugging Jax close to his chest while Cassian and Nesta each hold a babe, their own boys trailing in behind them.

Azriel shoots to his feet, catching his two oldest sons around their waists before they can launch themselves at you.

“Mommy,” Wren cries from his father’s grasp and Baz bursts out into tears at the sight, reaching over Azriel’s shoulder for you.

“Az, let them go,” you scold lightly, but caress the bond, thankful for stopping them before another injury could happen.

“Boys, you need to be gentle with mommy, okay?” Az holds each of their arms, making sure that his order has been received by each son before slowly letting them go.

They’re both on your uninjured side, Baz tumbling into your arms. He climbs up onto the bed and you hold him close, letting him cry into the crook of your shoulder, reaching out for Wren with tears in your own eyes.

“Hi baby,” you whisper, voice thick.

“Mom,” he breaks, tears spilling as he climbs up next to Baz, letting you run your fingers through his hair.

You bite your lip, holding your boys as close as you can, before looking around the room at the rest of your children, your family. 

Each one is looking at you with smiles, some pained, some relieved, some teary, and you know that if something had gone wrong, that your children would be in the best of hands.

Your teary gaze slides back to your mate. He hadn’t looked away from you while you were taking everyone in, seeming to know exactly where your mind had just been. But he doesn’t want to think about that right now, all he wants is to hold you and his children as close as he can, forever and always.

Cassian hands Knox off to Azriel as he rounds the bed to your injured side, taking the spot next to you to block your injury as he gestures to his brothers and their mates to bring forward the rest of your children.

Let us know if you need any help, Rhys speaks to Azriel and the shadowsinger nods, looking at you with the babes all curled in close, hugging each other tight.

He knows they won’t leave you now, but he doesn’t care because everyone is here together, in one piece.

One big family.

[dollcieee]

Finding Fluffy

Platonic! Kid! Cloud Strife x fem! reader <3 Your big sister Tifa recently got a cat!

Tifa and Y/n have been begging for their father to get them a cat for a long time now. When Tifa's twelfth birthday came up, Zander, one of the village elders, decided to give Tifa the white and mischievous kitten Fluffy.

Y/n was so ecstatic to see Tifa carrying a small kitten that she instantly took the cat and ran outside to find it a collar.

She got Fluffy a red bandana, but the kitten jumped out of Y/n's arms and ran off, leaving for Y/n to chase after it.

'Kitty, come back!'

Fluffy was much faster than her. In the end, she couldn't find her. She walked back to their house but stopped when she imagined an image of an angry Tifa scolding her for losing Fluffy.

Y/n started crying heavily and crouched, the ends of her pink sundress touching the ground, covering her face with both of her hands still holding the bandana. 

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

In the peaceful village of Nibelheim, a now 12-year-old Tifa wanders around the house in search of Y/n, her younger sister. Going out of their house, she finally finds her sister, her back facing Tifa.

"O-oh no.. Fluffy.." Y/n continues to sob while holding the red bandana she was supposed to make Fluffy wear.

"Y/n what's wrong?" Tifa pats her sister's back, concern written onto her face, but Y/n continues to cry, "Hey you can tell me what's wrong, you know" this time Tifa embraces her in a comforting hug.

"Fluffy.." Y/n whispers, trying not to cry anymore, Tifa now notices the absence of their new kitten and looks around and asked "Y/n, Where's Fluffy?" upon asking her that Y/n cries again, holding the bandana tightly this time "I lost her and I d-don't know where she is now *hic an-and I tried lo-looking for her b-but *hic I can't find her Tifa!".

"It's okay, we'll find her together, okay?" Tifa says as she lets go of her and urges Y/n to follow her, "Let's start looking at the village square".

"Wait- Tifa!" Tifa turns around towards her sister, tilting her head in a questioning manner.

"Hold hand" Y/n in a much better mood grabs Tifa's hand and they both go to the village square.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

"You see anything there Y/n?"

"no..."

The Lockhart sisters moved to another place near a trailhead leading to a gate. It's been almost an hour now, but the sisters were determined to find their cat.

"Y/n! I'll go to the other side" Tifa shouted, running to the opposite direction Y/n is currently in.

"Okay!" Y/n shouted back and continued on looking at the bushes.

Y/n flinched when she saw movement in the bigger bushes in front of her. Thinking it might be Fluffy, she sneaked inside the bush to take a peek. She saw nothing except a top of someone's head.

'This one has a very sharp hair' she thought as she called out to whoever this mysterious blond person was, "Hey!" the boy stood up and looked around him surprised by the sudden voice.

"Hey Chocobo head!" She shouted again.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Okay, that actually irked Cloud a little bit. Whoever was calling him should just show themselves to him. He was so close to catching the white cat he's been following.

"Pssst... helloooo over here!" Cloud finally found the voice who's been calling to him, when he looked to where she was his eyes widened when he recognized the face of the girl, it's Tifa's younger sister, Y/n Lockhart.

"What are you doing here?" He started to walk towards Y/n, looking down at her as she tried to stand up properly.

"Your Cloud right?" She asked, patting her dress to remove whatever dirt particle landed in it.

"Yeah, that's me, what do you want?" He asked back, arms crossed to his chest "Well um.. I was hoping that.. By any chance, you saw a white kitty around here?" She looked at the ground and back to Clouds piercing blue eyes.

"I did, I would've caught it by now if it weren't for your shouting" He nonchalantly answered.

"Oh, sorry..hehe" She apologized, a sheepish grin forming on her face, Cloud sighed and started walking away from her.

"Where are you going?" She asked, following him from behind, "To find the cat"

They both walked to the darker part of the forest.

"I hope Fluffys nearby" she whispers to herself, but Cloud hears her.

"Fluffy is the name of the cat?" Cloud asks.

"Yeah.. me and Tifa just got her today, but she just had to run away and I lost her. Now we have to look for her in the middle of the woods" she ranted to Cloud even doing hand motions to prove her statement.  

Cloud just nodded to whatever she said and looked around while walking deeper to the forest, Y/n started to close her distance with Cloud, the dark forest was starting to scare her.

"Stay close, don't worry I know my way here" Cloud exclaims eyes not looking away at the front. Y/n felt a little sense of relief from what he said.

"Do you go here a lot?" She asked, wanting to get to know the loner boy, "Yeah, I find it peaceful here"

Y/n nodded looking at him for a minute, "Why don't you hangout with us next time? I'm sure everyone would've loved to play with you" she continued but before Cloud could even reply a meowing noise can be heard close to them.

"That could be Fluffy-!" Y/n ran, leaving Cloud behind "Wait-" he sighed in frustration but went after her anyway.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

"Y/n you there?" Tifa came back to where she had last seen Y/n, looking around, she doesn't see her little sister. She looked up at the sky, the suns about to go down and they're not close to home.

'Dad must be worried' Tifa thought, looking at the place she had last seen Y/n, she thought about it for a moment and walked into the forest to see if she could spot her sister there.

"Y/n you better be safe.." she whispered to herself.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

"Fluffy! You silly-silly cat!" Y/n carried Fluffy in her arms, hugging the kitten while swaying side by side.

"Meow"

"Don't you 'meow' me, you made me worried.."

"Don't just run *pant* off like that you could've been *pant* hurt.." Cloud scolded while trying to regain his steady breath back, Y/n didn't seem to care as she finally found her sister's cat. In a moment of silence they hear the shouts of Tifa nearby.

"Y/n? Y/n you there? Let's just look for Fluffy tomorrow. It's almost night-time"

"Tifa! We're here! Cloud's here too!" Y/n shouted back, looking at a now stiff postured Cloud, "Cloud, you'kay there?" She asked, leaning close to his face "-yeah I'm fine..".

"Hmm, okay then tomorrow we should-" "I gotta go now, don't tell Tifa anything!" Cloud who's about to sprint stops for a moment and faces Y/n "about earlier I'd like to hangout with you" he runs off to another direction leaving a confused Y/n "Whatta weird kid..".

"Y/n there you are! We should- you found Fluffy!" Tifa said excitedly, grabbing Fluffy from Y/n's grasp "Also where's Cloud? I thought he was here as well" she looked around, no spiky-haired boy in sight.

"He went away I think I dunno" Y/n answered, tying the red bandana around Fluffy's neck.

"Well let's go home, dad's gonna get worried" Tifa holds Y/n's little hand

"Yeah! I'm hungry!"

The Lockhart sisters got home safe and sound, and ate dinner happily with their dad and new kitty Fluffy.

Edited: 08/07/2024

[rfxiii]

General Trevor Philips Headcanons-

(TW: drug usage, smut, past child abuse mention, suicidal thoughts, homophobia mention)

(1352 words)

He bites his nails and chews on his cuticles until they bleed. He doesn’t even notice he’s doing it- usually too focused on something or too high to notice.

He barely ever washes his clothes. He’ll sometimes wear them for months at a time, until they’re caked in blood, gasoline, sweat stains, and various other…fluids.

He’s owned the boots he wears with his default outfit since before Ludendorff. They are well over ten years old, and smell absolutely foul when he takes them off.

He masturbates anywhere from five to ten times a day, sometimes more depending on what kind of day he’s having. He masturbates not just when he’s horny but to relieve boredom, when he’s angry, when he’s sad, when he’s happy, basically any excuse to shove his hand down his pants and make himself cum.

He’s very wary, and can sometimes become downright violent when someone initiates touching him. He’ll happily give out hugs, playful pushes, shoulder shakes, even the occasional kiss. But when someone touches him first, more often than not, he’s going to get aggressive. His mother and her various boyfriends used to lash out and hit him at random- sometimes even for just standing within arms reach. So, when a person reaches out to touch him, he assumes he’s about to be hit.

Tried to vape once- probably borrowing it from Wade. He puked instantly and threw it back at him.

Subconsciously puts himself in dangerous situations when he passes out after a bender- like when he wakes up on the train tracks. When he’s high he’s also inclined to do things the more dangerous way that would be more likely to result in death. Sober, he’s not brave enough to try to kill himself. But when he’s high or drunk, his suicidal ideations are much stronger and he has more nerve to actually try it.

Basically canon that he still likes playing with toys/action figures. He never really had toys as a kid, but when he was young he was inclined to play with old action figures and dolls he found left behind at the park or in the trash. But his mother and her various boyfriends would mock him for playing with dolls and bully him about “being gay” before breaking or throwing away the toys.

Trevor’s brother, Ryan, was their mother’s favorite child. After he died, whether or not it was Trevor’s fault, their mother took it out on him violently for weeks. She’d blame him, lock him up in the closet because she “couldn’t stand looking at him”, she’d beat him, call him names, burn him with her cigarettes or throw alcohol bottles at him; she even let a few of her boyfriends hurt him too, telling him he deserved it for “being such a wretched child”.

Back in North Yankton, when they were on a job and sharing rooms together, Trevor would occasionally have horrific nightmares about his past. He’d wake up sobbing and unable to breath. To calm himself down, he’d sometimes climb into bed with Michael or Brad, and sleep with them. Neither of them had the heart to bring it up to him as they were both pretty sure why they’d wake up to him in bed with them.

Trevor had both sober and drunkenly made out with Michael and Brad. Michael, only once, because Michael got ‘feelings’ from it and didn’t know how to handle it so he made a big deal telling Trevor off about it.

Trevor steals little things from people he loves- not in a malicious way, but in a sentimental way. He has an old jacket of Michael’s from when they were in their twenties, he has a beanie of Brad’s that he let him borrow during winter one year, he has a cassette tape he took from Lester’s, an old action figure he took from Franklin, and a ball cap he took from Lamar.

He’s come to Ludendorff to visit Brad’s grave once or twice after finding out he’d been buried there all those years. He even threatened Dave into getting the grave marker changed from Michael’s name to Brad’s. Brad didn’t have any family, but it just felt..wrong not acknowledging at least where he was buried.

When they’re in public, Trevor sometimes pretends that he and Michael are Franklin’s parents. It embarrasses Michael to no end. It initially annoyed Franklin but he’s grown to see the humor in it.

Flew Franklin up to North Yankton once so he could experience “a real winter”. But living all his life in sunny Los Santos, Franklin quickly discovered that he hates the snow.

He shouldn’t be trusted with small animals, or animals of any kind, really. But he loves Chop. He’ll come over to Franklin’s just to see the dog sometimes. He even bought Chop a Christmas present one year.

He loves breaking into Michael’s house when no one is home and moving things around just slightly to make Michael think he’s going insane.

Trevor has gross seasonal allergies- watery eyes, a cough, a nasty, snotty nose he won’t blow or wipe. He lays around in bed for days acting like he’s dying- it’s pathetic and hilarious at the same time.

Back in North Yankton, he once stole a pair of Amanda’s underwear and left them sticking from his bag on purpose to get a rise out of Michael. Michael did not recognize them as hers and simply commented on how those looked a little small to fit Trevor.

He tries for months to convince Lamar to get a matching tattoo with him. Lamar almost wouldn’t be opposed to it if it weren’t for the fact that Trevor insists he do it himself with some old tattoo machine he scavenged from the trash.

He once mixed up a plastic cup he had full of alcohol and a plastic cup he was huffing gas out of. He drank a huge swig of gasoline and tried to play it cool in front of Ron and Chef, before projectile vomiting all over the floor.

Loves both Jimmy and Tracey- but he’s always had more of a soft spot for Tracey. He watches her grow up, she was the first one to call him “Uncle T”, she’s always been sweeter and more outgoing than Jimmy, and even as a child, she and Trevor just got on better playing dolls and make believe than he did trying to understand Jimmy’s video games.

He once lived in the crawl space of Chef’s house for three whole days just to see if he’d notice. Chef was convinced his house was haunted, or that the government was monitoring him with spies in his walls. He was actually a little pissed when Trevor revealed it was just him.

Ate a roadkill squirrel off the ground once, in front of a group of cops, just for shock value. It worked and they gave him a wider berth after that.

Once caught the clap from a prostitute during a week long bender in North Yankton. He’d cry and bitch about his junk burning all day; Michael and Brad heckled him mercilessly for it.

In North Yankton, he’d still go out and get ultra high/drunk and pass out random places outside. Only difference between there and San Andreas is that the winter nights in North Yankton drop well below freezing, and falling asleep under the influence, in your underwear, could mean anything from a horrible cold, frostbite, or death. Michael and Brad used to have to hunt him down when he went missing to make sure he didn’t freeze to death out in the snow. He’d always wake up with both M and B’s jackets on, in bed in their motel room, but he could never remember how he’d gotten there, so he never mentioned it or realized it was them. Until the first time he got black out wasted after Brad died and Michael went into hiding, and he woke up nearly frozen and still out in the snow.

[xhusu]

; a comforting thought

Erza gripped Simon's arm, not letting him go. As tears rolled down her cheeks, her gaze quickly explored her new environment. An island, where she could not see anything but the ocean, where men seemed to wait for them.

or more simply: Erza's arrival at the R-System.

You can also read it on AO3! | Words: 2,582

    

Erza trembled, close to Simon, as their embarkation stopped moving. It was dark and she could hear children's cries. There was a smell of vomit and she felt like puking herself. Between the whimpers and painful groans, Erza pursued her lips.

"I'm scared," she whispered to her friend. His only answer was a sob, the boy was still crying over his sister.

Kagura was safe, she knew. She saved her.

But still.

How long have they stayed here? She did not know but she was starving. She ate dinner before the attack... so it was probably late, or the next day. Or the day after, how could she be certain? She snuggled to the child next to her, closing her eyes tightly.

While Simon was on her left; on her right was a girl she knew from the orphanage. Erza may have been 9, but she knew that if someone felt cold and hard, it meant that–

"–Sofia's dead," she whimpered.

Finally, the hatch opened and the light blinded them. And then, everything got loud suddenly, men screaming and children crying. It is between yells and hits that they got ordered to run out of the boat.

Erza gripped Simon's arm, not letting him go. As tears rolled down her cheeks, her gaze quickly explored her new environment. An island, where she could not see anything but the ocean, where men seemed to wait for them.

For a minute, she believed those men to be ghosts. So thin and bruised. The sun shone brightly and it was burning outside. A kid fell next to her. She reached for him but, before being able to help, the young child got kicked by one of their captors as the man urged him to stand.

One of the ghosts pushed her and Simon, telling them to keep walking. Erza saw the boy, too weak to walk, being thrown to the side. She got sand in her eyes and almost fell multiple times due to the ground being covered in debris. But they kept going, they had to.

"Halt!" called a guard. He went to a group of ghosts, ordering them something before turning to the kids.

"Undress!" yelled a ghost, while some went to help the younger.

Erza clung to her dress. A man came to them, giving them rags to wear. "Listen to them," he whispered as he watched Erza, "You don't want to make them angry."

The rag itched, it was uncomfortable, dirty and stank. Erza had the privilege to keep her underwear, but Simon did not as he got pants. They ended up barefoot, and every step was torturous.

"Faster!" she heard. "Come over!"

They chained them up with heavy shackles and led them to empty cells. Luckily, Erza stayed with Simon. But it was just the two of them.

Finally in there, they could sit and breathe.

"Why is it just the two of us?" she asked him in a small voice.

"I don't know..."

They kept scratching their skin, the rags left red marks on their body.

"Never have I ever worn such dirty clothes..."

"If you can call these clothes..."

They heard a scream and held hands tightly. Erza was terrified, not understanding what was happening at all.

"I want to go home–" she mumbled, holding back her tears. Her friend nodded silently. They saw two older girls passing in front of their cell with a barrow filled with dirt. They exchanged a glance. One of them smiled. A comforting smile.

It was supposed to help but it did not. Erza started to cry and Simon could not even hug her with his chains.

They stayed alone in this cell for a long time, hours for sure. Erza stopped crying but she continued to tremble.

    

When the light seemed to fade, they started to hear people. A lot of people. A man stopped by their cell with an empty barrel. He looked exhausted. A guard was following him and opened the door.

Three teenagers appeared, putting different tools in the barrel and entering the cell. They looked at Erza without a word and sat against a wall. After them, an injured woman and two middle-aged men. By then, the small cell felt already crowded.

Then they heard a laugh and saw the guard roll his eyes. An old man and three other kids joined them. The guard pushed the older boy after giving him a slap behind the head. The girl bit her lips and shared a worried glance with her friend.

And when everyone was here, the cell was locked up, and the guard left followed by the man carrying the barrel, now filled with tools.

There was a long silence. Until the boy from earlier started to talk to his group, and everyone imitated him. Erza looked at her new cellmates – the woman laughed with the two middle-aged men and the teens chatted tiredly but in a friendly manner.

"You think they're new?" she finally heard. She saw the little girl from earlier looking at her. Both her friends were too.

"I don't think, I'm sure."

The older boy stood and walked to them. Erza and Simon looked at him, unsure of what to do.

He had blue hair and a strange mark on his face – she never saw someone looking like that. He was thin yet tanned, bruised yet smiling. The boy offered them his hand.

"My name is Jellal, nice to meet you."

Erza blinked, shuddered. His shirt was covered by dirt and traces of blood, and along with that, he had a missing tooth.

Yet, after inhaling, she faintly smiled and accepted his hand. "I'm Erza."

He shook her hand in a funny manner with a laugh, before offering it to Simon who introduced himself. Jellal then sat in front of them.

"You're here since long?"

"We don't really know..."

"Ah, but if you didn't go to work, it wasn't morning. Afternoon probably." With that, he nodded for himself.

A snicker next to him made him turn his head to the teenagers. One explained, "Jellal, y'know, don't play smart. I saw the boat this morning. Helped with the clothes with Dave."

"Ah? But they still didn't go to work."

The teen shrugged. "Whatever."

Jellal turned to them once again. "Don't listen to him, I'm not trying to play smart."

"You totally are."

"Oh, stop it now!"

The whole cell chuckled and Erza could not help but feel amused. Jellal seemed to be a nice person.

"Great boys, but don't scream. I'm rather hungry," commented the woman.

"Yeah, ain't no time for punishment. Let the new kids have some food," added one of the middle-aged men.

"Anyway," sighed dramatically the blue-haired child, "That's Henry for you, here with Dave and Miguel. The pretty woman over there is Carolina", a laugh from her, "Jose and Nelson. And finally," he grinned at his group, "Milliana, Sho and Grandpa Rob."

Erza timidly waved her hand, "Hi..."

What with the big presentation?

The little girl, Milliana, came to Jellal and wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind. Her chains falling on his torso, she got closer and watched the new kids from above his head.

"We can help you accommodate," she said with a little smile.

"Mhmh!" agreed Jellal. "It was the same for Sho."

Sho? Sho was... the little boy! She turned to him as he hid behind the old man, Rob it was. "He's new too?"

"Nyah! Got here a year ago. Is that it?" she asked Rob who nodded. "See Jellal, I remembered!"

"Heh, good job, Millia!"

She giggled in his hair and removed her arms to sit next to him, close.

Erza felt uncomfortable by their relaxed attitude. Simon felt the same, she guessed as she saw his tensed stance.

"We don't know where we are."

“None of us really do.”

Simon frowned. “What is going to happen to us?”

“You guys are going to work along with us. You’re new, so it should start easy.”

“No, no, Jellal,” corrected Milliana, “It doesn’t start easy at all! You’re just used to it!”

Another laugh, “You may be right.”

“What with that laugh and attitude?” Simon almost spat, “So we’re slaves, that’s what you say? Then what are you laughing for?”

A silence came to the cell, everyone glanced at the boy as Jellal blinked and Milliana puffed out her cheeks with a sad moue. Erza murmured her friend’s name as if to tell him to calm down.

“Well, we got to, that’s the only thing we have left,” answered the boy. The girl frankly nodded.

“That’s stupid!”

“I’m sorry, he doesn’t—” Erza started.

“No, it’s fine. I get it,” Jellal faintly smiled, “I should be the one apologizing, maybe I was too straightforward.”

He stood and went back to the old man and little boy, asking the latter if his hand still hurt. Erza watched him do, a little worried. Sho showed him his bandaged hand with a sob, so his friend could give it a magic kiss. Her trait softened at the sight, but her attention quickly turned to Simon; the boy took his head in his palms, trembling and mumbling words.

Milliana was still looking at them silently, too close, too curious. The girl seemed to not know much about boundaries and personal space. But just before Erza could ask them more about their new conditions, she left to join her group quickly; all of a sudden, fast – like a stray cat.

The atmosphere felt heavy, the temperature was high and the middle-aged men had cough fits from time to time. Outside of the cell, there were still loud noises, some people were still working she guessed; every time she would hear a scream, she would flinch and witness Carolina trace an imaginary cross.

To be fair, every time there was a loud noise, the cell would go quiet.

It was painful to breathe here, her skin still burned at the contact of the rags, and her stomach was aching as hunger begged.

    

After what seemed to be an eternity, but probably sooner than she supposed as it was not night yet, another ghost arrived, pushing a seemingly heavy cart. She noticed bowls and a big pot. A guard arrived and started to unlock the door.

Without her even noticing, Jellal approached them. When he was right next to her, he whispered her name, causing her to jolt. From his expression, she knew it was not what he had intended.

“Sorry,” he offered quietly, “I just wanted to tell you that it’s dinner time. We’ll stand, one at a time, and go have one bowl each. We’re last in the corridor so you should go first to be sure to have a great portion.”

“There isn’t enough for all of us?” Erza asked in a whisper.

“Well, not always. That’s why you have to be quick…” He glanced at the rest of their cellmates, before adding almost inaudibly, “When it comes to food, people are selfish, so be ready to stand when they call one of us.”

Erza inhaled, watching the rest of the cell. All of them had their eyes focused on the guard, even the little kids. They resembled animals, ready to attack their prey. The man opened the door and waited for the slave to fill up the first bowl, adding a ridiculous stale piece of bread to it.

Right when the guard opened his mouth, Henry, the teen from earlier, stood. Their captor huffed a dry laugh. “Not you, you impatient brat,” he turned to the rest of the group, “First portion,” he declared and Jellal took Erza’s arms as she was about to stand.

She looked at him, incredulous, but he explained, “He’s angry now, let him choose or he’ll hit you.”

Her eyes widened at the thought. There seemed to be so many unsaid rules here, so precise and so important for your survival, that it was terrifying.

“You,” he pointed at Simon, “New kid, come take your food.”

She shuddered and watched him stand, joining the man with trembling legs. He received the bowl from the ghost, and the guard put a weirdly affectionate hand on his shoulder.

“Do not be scared, obey and everything should be fine. I hope you’ll enjoy your first meal.”

One by one, they received their food. Erza got the chance to stand the third time. After her, the guard had ceased to choose. Yet, Jellal waited until he was last to go. Funnily enough, he dared to thank the slave serving him under the hunter’s sombre gaze.

Once the man had left, Erza watched Jellal and his half-filled bowl, “Why didn’t you go after me?”

“They don’t like me, it wouldn’t have changed anything.”

    

At night, the cell was dark. There was a small candlelight outside of the door, for the guards to see them when they were doing their rounds. And that was it. Erza could not see much that was for sure. But luckily, they had thin covers. Jellal had explained that they would use it as blankets during winter, and as sheets during summer.

And so, Erza ended up sharing hers with Simon, right next to her was Milliana, snuggled against Jellal. Sho was already fast asleep in Grandpa Rob’s arms.

She was back-to-back with her friend as he faced the wall. He told her he wanted to sleep fast, too exhausted. Since they had met Jellal, he had not talked much. He was not that much of a chatty person, but she just knew how affected he was by everything.

In front of her was that new boy, Jellal. He was whispering an invented story to Milliana, they kept adding so much details to it that it ruined the whole scenario. But it was adorable. She giggled and yawned. He kissed her forehead and murmured a small “You should sleep now, Millia.”

And she did, right away, as if she was waiting for him to say that all along.

Erza softly smile until the boy looked at her.

“How do you feel after today, Erza?”

“Exhausted.”

“You should sleep then; tomorrow is going to be a difficult day for you both.”

“I guess you must be right… I’m a little scared…”

“We’re here, it should be fine.”

That made her smile a little, “You’re way too nice…”

He grinned, “It’s just that… Just like Grandpa Rob told me, you got to help each other here, you can’t survive on your own.”

“Is he nice?”

“Grandpa Rob? He is really kind… I’m sure you’ll get along with him quickly, with Sho too and the others…”

“Mhmh… I’m sorry for earlier by the way. Simon, I mean…”

“Don’t be, it’s normal,” saying that, he hugged Milliana a little more, “To be fair, most people are like him at first… Angry or scared… You’re the one being nice, I think.”

Erza let out a discreet laugh, “Well, that’s all we got, that’s what you said.”

He nodded and it was Erza’s turn to yawn.

“Let’s go to sleep now,” he said. She agreed and closed her eyes. “Good night, Erza.”

“Good night, Jellal.”

The ground was hard, she never found a comfortable position to sleep in, and she felt tensed and insecure. Yet, somehow, she fell asleep easily. Was it the boy’s reassurance or the exhaustion, she could not tell. But all she knew was that they were not alone.

And it was a comforting thought to have.

    

AN:  Thank you so much for reading! I had that one in my notes for months. I don't really know if I'm happy with it, but I prefered to post it anyway; who knows, maybe someone will like it? ^^

[creaturecosmo]

[tags:] inspired by "The 30th" by Billie Eilish , implied suicide attempt , car crashes , ambulances , hospitals , implied abusive relationship , implied abusive parents , reckless driving , HEAVY ANGST

Steve wrecks his car hard.

He got into another bad spat with Nancy, another fight with his parents. His cheek was red and aching when he decided to go on a drive. All he could think about was being so hurt and so angry and so scared. All he could do was drive, fast and reckless with no destination in mind. 

Voices cloud his mind more and more the longer he drives. He’s pushing 60, 70, 80, 90. His dash clock tells him it’s six in the morning. He has plans with Robin at seven before their shift. He can’t think. Everything is so loud. 100, 105. Maybe he can outrun the thoughts and memories and voices.

He blinks, and everything goes dark.

When Steve wakes up, he’s dizzy. There’s smoke somewhere, white and thick. The world tilts and he needs to tell Robin he won’t make it to their coffee date, that he needs some sleep. The walkie screeches and someone’s voice is garbled and distorted on the other end. He’s so tired. Maybe just a little nap. Then he can head to work.

Everything is finally quiet.

When Steve wakes up, he hears sirens. He looks up and sees a man in white standing beside him. The world spins every time he blinks. He looks to his other side and sees Robin next to a heart monitor.

Something flashes in his head, tires screeching and metal tearing. He tries to move and feels a pain erupt up his side into the center of his skull. It doesn’t matter. Robin is hurt, he has to help. He has to.

Robin tries to gently put him back down, saying something filtered through murky water and hazy vision. She’s crying. Voices creep at the edge of his mind and he feels that burn in his legs, the need to run and run and run until he collapses or gets away.

“160 and rising! I need a tranq back here!”

Steve blinks, and everything is dark.

When Steve wakes up, he’s looking at white walls. Constant beeping needles lightly at his ear beside him. Everything hurts. When he can swallow down his intestines and make the world hold still, he tries to take in more of his surroundings. He recognizes the hospital room, similar to the one Dustin was stuck in when he whacked his head after slipping on ice and his mom freaked out because of that bone disease he’s got.

Then, his eyes land on Robin, and he finds her staring right back. She looks small curled up next to him in the bed. Her hair is a mess. She’s still wearing the shirt she stole from him months ago that she uses as pajamas. Her eyes are red.

The fact she’s not in a hospital gown is the first thing that scratches his brain. Then, he tries to move his arm and finds two IVs threaded into him. When he looks back to her to ask what’s wrong, he can see the heartbreak in her trembling lip before she takes a deep breath.

“Stevie, you… you were in an accident.”

Like the frigid little hand from last night, he’s hit with everything that happened. The voices, the impulses, the way his hands yanked the wheel. All he wanted was for everything to be quiet, just for a little bit. He never meant for this to happen.

He can’t help it.

Steve falls apart.

First quietly, tears gathering and rolling down his cheek as he whispers, “I didn’t wanna die.”

Then all at once, curling into Robin and sobbing, “Rob, I’m so scared.”

Of death, of Nancy, of his parents, of the kids.

Of himself.

Robin hugs him tight and murmurs in his ear, “I know. You’re gonna be okay. I love you so much, Steve. We’re gonna be alright, we’re gonna get you better.”

Steve can only pray she’s right this time.

[wolves-etc]

thoughts on The Last Of Us episode eight (uh-oh), largely in the order I had them:

[thoughts on: 1.1 | 1.2 | 1.3 | 1.4 | 1.5 | 1.6 | 1.7 | X | 1.9]

[for folks not familiar with the episode: content warning for vague references to grooming, CSA and rape]

— I've heard vague things about this ep - nothing specific, just Oh Boy There May Be A Lot Here - so I'm starting off wearing socks this time in case of spooky moments and with a hot chocolate to ward off angst. let's do this.

— I'm really growing to appreciate how impressively fleshy the fungus in the title credits is

— for a moment there the revelations bible reading with a girl starting to sob in the background felt like a mass suicide rapture cult thing about to happen, but THANK FUCK, it looks like they're just grieving.

— "just"

— the necessary practicality of "the ground is too cold to dig, we'll bury your father in the spring," and the extra grief that comes with the interruption of a ritual we use to acknowledge someone's death and start to move on from it.

— y'know it's nice that we get some interesting faces on here - faces a little outside the standard range of TV attractiveness. I sent my friend a few screenshots to point this out and express appreciation and I'm being treated to an update on all the actors in this who were voice actors for the games. it's very cool and i approve.

— "I sensed doubt" as an accusation from a religious leader (even if it's about his role more broadly as a community leader) makes me feel pretty stabby, not gonna lie

— I think that was pus on joel's wound and honestly kudos to the show for showing it! it's not leaning into the gore super much - netflix does that for shock value, I think, and to emphasise the, well, casual violence of the casual violence - but this kinda just feels realistic.

— ellie telling joel she's gonna be right back, I think more for herself than for him </3

— oh her nose and cheeks do not look good. I had to reassure myself she's been travelling with joel in that weather for A While now and probably knows what to look out for in the cold, but ouch.

— there's this nice thing here where we KNOW she was in military school and she can fire a gun, but joel still had to give her pointers; we know she's hardy and can fight well, but still doesn't know much about hunting, still makes noise when she walks and falls on her face and is clearly trying but will need luck if she's going to succeed.

— also I'm pretty sure that was an infected noise.

— or apparently not.

— impromptu rifle range!! you go, girl!

— oh no

— ellie's clearly not holding the rifle in a way that would LET her shoot them right between the eyes and they're so clearly humouring her a bit and it's this really odd mix of "she's genuine danger" and "this is just child-wrangling and children can be volatile"

— good enough with guns to know how to deload the others' rifles though

(still not sure what the correct term for deloading is - unloading just sounds like you're firing the damn thing everywhere. my friend suggested "decocking." which is just great. /s)

— "I actually started believing after the world ended." yeowch

— "so you went from teacher to preacher 'cos what, it fuckin' rhymes?" "yeah, exactly."

THIS IS SWEET OH NO yeah of course he was a teacher, he's got that good-at-kids vibe. (as opposed to good with kids, admittedly.)

— (my friend said that was an interesting distinction. I said: "he's good at reading and understanding her, knowing most of her threat is bravado but taking it seriously anyway, but he's not relating to her. there's a potential for manipulation - trying to get her to do what he wants or needs from her. which in this case would be handing over all or most of the meat.")

((listen. it was mostly vibes but this show is good at vibes.))

— I'm sorry is this dude a preacher advocating for revenge murder 'cos holy fuck I'm gonna knock him unconscious with his own holy book

— had to pause to be very angry at this for a moment because hi the "god put this murder opportunity in front of me, isn't that nice of him" line of thinking is. bad very bad it's very very bad

— he got an entire deer out of the bargain and he's still going to devote resources to vengeance, isn't he, the motherfucker

— ellie not knowing how to give joel the penicillin is so REAL. she really is very competent! she's also a fourteen-year-old with minimal life experience and education and her caregiver and relative expert in these things is currently incapacitated. I really hope she didn't just inject a fatal amount into his liver or something.

— lying down with a hand on his chest oh fuck

— "what is [the meat]?" "…venison." I really hope that guy looks naturally shifty.

— at least it's not like it could be random people meat or something

…oh fuck

oh fucking fuck fuck NO

"we'll bury his body in the spring" YEAH SURE I'M SURE THAT GUY JUST NATURALLY LOOKS SHIFTY AND IT'S FINE. look I can't even judge them for making this call to survive but it's fucking grim.

— excuse me he did fucking NOT just slap a teenager so hard he knocked her to the floor

okay now I'm starting to get why the mood in that community is so fucking atrocious. they're scared of him and he's using that fear to keep things working.

— "bless us with christ, the living bread" while they're sitting down for a meal of human is especially grim

— I'm glad ellie hasn't forgotten about the horse 'cos I kinda did

— I do like this show's quiet moments

— "how dare you decide that the girl dying is god's will. I decide what deaths are god's will." (paraphrased. but listen. I know evil preacher dude hasn't actually said he wants joel dead, but I can tell what he means by justice will, eventually, be death, even if he puts on a big show about coming to that decision grudgingly.)

— hang on I need to get some knife emojis in here 🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

— ellie breaking my fucking heart here with her instructions to joel

— okay I did admittedly expect her to be more subtle but yelling "hey, motherfuckers!" and shooting at them IS very her

— I'm a wimp about some things so asked my friend for assurance that they don't take joel captive.

I didn't even think to ask whether they'd get ellie.

— (when I find myself in times of trouble helena from orphan black comes to me, speaking no words of wisdom but rather dealing with whoever needs to be dealt with then setting the place on fire.)

— at this point and for my own comfort I looked up just enough to know that joel and ellie are free and alive at the beginning of the next episode.

— "did you hear me say the others want to kill you?" "yeah." "but I stopped them." "fuck you." ellie <3 <3 <3

— yeah he's being sorta condescending here I called it. talking down to her and trying to bully her into doing what he wants. I'd actually like him better if he were taking the straightforward tess approach of "please be honest with us so we can figure out whether you're worth transporting as cargo."

— ellie's fear at the end of that first cage scene is brutal. major props to the actress and holy shit I'm glad she's still defiant (the fight response to immediate danger is kinda less painful to watch, for me) but fuck.

— JOEL IS SUCH A COMFORT TO SEE RIGHT NOW

— and now it's a torture scene and honestly still such a comfort. love a character who'll threaten to pop someone's kneecap off in defence of a child.

— the deeply inappropriate joy I felt when joel got the guy to point out the location with the knife shoved in his mouth

— "it'd better be the exact same spot your buddy points to" holy SHIT he did this earlier, with the nice hermit couple who gave him soup, this is practised and familiar

that's a heck of an insight into the kind of stuff he used to do and I'm not even sure what to feel about it

— …what's ellie seen

— THAT'S WHAT ELLIE'S SEEN

— can this guy not talk about cordyceps like I talk about cordyceps please. like yes it ISN'T evil yes it IS just multiplying and protecting itself and its progeny but shut up I don't want to agree with you

I guess I'd argue for its inherent amorality more than its goodness anyway. what the fuck, dude.

— "I'm a shepherd surrounded by sheep" you absolute motherfucker, a shepherd can't keep their sheep in fear or they can't do their fucking job. yes I'm pretending to know a lot more about sheep than I do for the sake of a grudge. WHAT OF IT.

— "if he leaves us in peace, they will just let him go." bastard knows exactly what he's doing.

— this dude appealing to ellie "as an equal" is deeply fucking creepy. I know I said I'd prefer the tess approach but THIS IS NOT THE TESS APPROACH. this is the creepy groomer approach. this is the "I want to manipulate you into being my attack dog" approach.

— okay I said creepy groomer as a fucking metaphor. look, this show did such a good job NOT leaning into the standard post-apoc rape and creepiness tropes that I straight up forgot creeps like that could exist here.

that in the context of him having "violence in his heart" that he struggled to come to terms with, and having been a school teacher, I-

— "tell them that ellie is the little girl who broke your fucking finger." holy shit I love her I love her I lo

— I know it's bravado I know she's scared but I love her and joel's coming to get her

— WHEN I ASKED MY FRIEND EARLY ON WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF ELLIE BIT SOMEONE I DIDN'T EXPECT IT TO ACTUALLY HAPPEN. YOU GO GIRL

— YES, GIRL

— …I think the fact that this show didn't lean into the turbo-boosted-rape-culture tropes that are so typical for the genre makes it so much fucking creepier when it. actually happens.

— the triumph of ellie managing to kill him is a lot, the tragedy of ellie having to kill him is a lot, her terror and violation as she just, can't stop stabbing is. so much.

— JOEL

— JOEL AND ELLIE JOEL AND ELLIE

— "it's okay, baby girl. I got you."

— I love them both so much I love them both so much I lov

[guatemalanworrydolls]

i just read the essay all about my mother by brandon taylor and i'm unable to breathe. i'm sobbing quietly in my room at 12:45am thinking about the fact that my mother will die, and i spent so much time hating her. i still hate her sometimes for all the things she's done before, but she's my mother. we have looked at each other at our absolute worst and still chosen to love one another. that fact becomes more prevalent now that i don't live with her. i feel like she maybe hated me because i was so similar to her. they called me 'mini-___' as a way to insult me because i would hate to be compared to my mother. because being compared to mama was disgusting to me. now i find myself wanting to be like her. ___, not my mother. my mother was childish and rude and mocking and angry and emotional and manipulative and controlling yet somehow apathetic. ___ is kind and generous with her time and wealth, and thoughtful and giving and organized and i want to be her. not to say mom wasn't a good mom, i couldn't have asked to live in a better home. it's just that sometimes it felt like she didn't love me because she didn't love herself. that fact gnawed at me until i moved out. that we were so similar and that's why we fought constantly. because deep down she didn't like herself and i was her perfect copy. i was a physical embodiment of her worst flaws and insecurities come to life. and she was mine. and so we killed each other for it. that's the part of our past i can't seem to get over. the hatred. because we did hate. but i don't want anything to hold me back from being a friend to my mother anymore. sometimes its hard to separate who she is now to who she was. its like looking at her through a tinted window, not all 'her' is shining though, just the muted black outlines. i always wait for her to blow up at me and get red in the fact or slam a door or slap me, but she doesn't. she's just ___ now. she's just my mom. it sort of hurts me that she tormented my life and forced me into so many things and now i never hear from her. it actually hurts a lot. it made me twist what had happened between us into something resembling care. that it was her form of expressing love. to control and to yell and to push and poke and prod. because now i feel sort of empty without it. its' a backwards feeling to think you want to be yelled at, but really i just want her to show me that she still cares about me enough to yell at. that she still hates me enough to look at me with her simmering glare. i want to know that i can still get to her. i want her to hate me. hate me. love me. give me any kind of attention. i want her to be my mom. i want to be a 13 year old kid again and her to tell me my shorts are too short. i want her to make me join band. make me go to church. i want to be scrutinized and agonized over. i want to take up space in her mind. i want her to think of me. it makes me sick. to have known someone to her core, to have seen all the puss and rot seeping from her and still be hurt when she doesn't call me. it makes me scared for her to die. she's my mirror. i have seen her filth and i've shown her mine. i've been a vile creature before her and she still recommends me shows to watch and gives me skincare products she doesn't want and slow dances with me at weddings. i still want her to hold me even though i wont' admit it. i still want her to bring me takeout and watch a movie with me. i want her to be excited to see me when i walk through a door. i want her to be proud of me. it makes me sad to think that stage of our time together is over. over. my mother has seen me at my worst. she's the only one who knows how shitty i am. how truly despicable i am. and she loves me still. unconditional love. that's what it means. it's my mom loving me, and yelling at me and pushing me. and it will die with her. and that scares me. so i chase that love. i try to get a rise out of her, to get a reaction. to say something wrong and mean or wear something scandalous to see what she'll say. to make her mad and watch her smile at me anyways. and now i can't breathe again. it's an unbearable thought -- that one day i won't be able to feel her love. that we can't fight anymore. that i can't just watch tv in her office while she does work, just so we can be with each other. that i can't chat with her in bed until she falls asleep. that i sit down and watch season 3 episode 10 of a soap opera i've never seen just so we can be in each others presence. we love each other. we hate each other. we're miserable copies of each other in different stages of life. to know her is to know me. to love is to love me. to love her feels like summer. like you're laying in the grass and you hear cicadas buzzing loudly in the trees and your skin is warm and your feet are bare and you're young enough not to care how long you lay outside doing nothing. it's loud and rude and hot and sometimes very messy but to have it is to feel the sun on your face. a mother's love is the sun on your face.

[mariaofdoranelle]

“Every time he smiled at her, she wanted to melt into a puddle. Every day they spent together only made her feelings stronger, and she was pretty sure she’d die if she ever had to be without him.” my friends to lovers heart is dying

NOT REMELLE

NOT LYRIA😭😭😭

“I got distracted during the quiz because she smiled at me,” why does that make me want to kms

“He didn’t want to know how much it cost to buy her body, to buy her time, to buy her.” bye 💀

his reaction after the website is so heartbreaking😭

also did you put crack in it it must be the 3rd time i’m reading it i can’t leave this scene

“his bracelet on his wrist.” i’m holding on to that part for dear life in the middle of all the angst

the song😭

“Who did this to you?” SOMEONE SEDATE ME

“And that godsdamned mistake and that godsdamned night” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

“His Fireheart. That’s who she was.” 😭😭😭

“Her face fell and she sat up, reaching for the friendship bracelet that lay abandoned on his nightstand.” MORGAN

YOU

FUCKING

DIDN’T

of course it was archer but why are teenage boys so dumb😭 yes i’m talking about rowan

“But even as the world drifted away, the sight of that bracelet on his nightstand haunted her dreams.” MINE TOO

IT’S SO HARD TO BE MAD AT HIM NOW THAT MY BIRD BOY IS SOBBING MORGAN WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME

“Can I hold you?” i made my point yesterday no comfort here only hurt

“They fell asleep again like that, finding comfort in each other.” WHAT COMFORT

“But it’d all returned the next day, so here he was again, outside the same bar, hoping to have that hour or so of freedom.” prostitution wasn’t enough apparently now we have alcoholism too 🧍🏻‍♀️

“I’m a problem?” yes

“Rowan loosed a heavy breath, fighting the urge to go over to her place and beat this Farran guy up.” that’s the problem with rowan he’s always fighting his urges

“He wanted her safe, and preferably happy. If that meant with him, he wasn’t about to complain.” I’M DYING

“And who was he to deny her?” right? 😭

“She mumbled something he didn’t quite comprehend, something like I and then he heard ou, with a v sound in there somewhere.” MORGAN ARE YOU KIDDING ME

DO YOU LIKE TO SEE ME LIKE THIS DO YOU REVEL IN THIS

i just know the golden dress is going to hurt me so bad

“He was wearing his bracelet” HE BETTER

you make me sad even in the angry moments. i’m so sad i can’t punch remelle in her fucking nose.

“And was immediately met with a bowl full of punch.” is it bad if i go into a fistfight with a minor please can i physically hurt with these teenagers

yeah i’d hate to be prom king too if these were the people voting for me

“Does it have to mean anything?” ooh terrible answer

“if this was all she could ever get of him… she’d take it.” i want to judge her so bad but it’d be a bit too hypocritical of me lmaoo

i have so many thoughts and emotions on their first time but i definitely haven’t figured it out enough to comment yet. but just so you know i’m FEELING. i’m all caps feeling.

“Not desire this time, love.” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

“And neither of them said anything before falling asleep.”

i died

i’m dead

i’m dying

i died and went back now i’m dying again

you’re killing a zombie morgan you’re harming someone who’s dead already

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You're On Your Own, Kid

Part 2

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

CW: mentions of cancer, implications of prostitution, mention of death, implications of child abuse, NSFW,

~ 11k words

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Eleven Years Ago

“How was class?” Aelin asked Rowan as he made his way over to her in the hallway, his backpack slung over both shoulders. He shook his head, his silver hair flopping over his forehead. 

“Horrible,” he answered, “pop quiz.”

They fell in line next to each other, heading down the hallway and out of the middle school building. 

“But you love history,” she asked, brows furrowed. “I’m surprised you didn’t ace it.” He just shrugged and she decided not to pry, just walking next to him in the quiet. 

“I had music today,” Aelin continued after a minute, “Miss Florine let me play on her piano again.” 

“That’s good,” Rowan answered, nodding his head a bit. “I’m glad she recognizes how talented you are.” He sent a small smile her way, and Aelin had to forcibly stop herself from blushing scarlet. 

It was a problem. Since she’d discovered the extent of her feelings almost a year ago, it’d only gotten worse. Every time he touched her, a whole swarm of butterflies flew around her stomach. Every time he smiled at her, she wanted to melt into a puddle. Every day they spent together only made her feelings stronger, and she was pretty sure she’d die if she ever had to be without him.

But she couldn’t tell him, she couldn’t risk losing him.

“The rest of my classes today were terrible,” she admitted as she shrugged, hoping to sympathize with him a little bit. “I got my test grade back in Math, and it was not what I was hoping for.” 

“No?” Rowan asked, pushing open the door to the courtyard, and she shook her head. 

“See?” She said, nudging his shoulder and smiling slightly. “Everyone gets bad grades, it’s alright.” 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Remelle and her friends, and she looked away quickly. Hoping they wouldn’t notice them. Remelle didn’t attempt to mess with her in front of Rowan usually, but whenever Aelin was by herself she would get choice comments about him.

She just tried her best to ignore it all. 

“Loser!” Someone shouted from across the courtyard, and Aelin huffed, picking up her pace. Rowan frowned next to her, but didn’t comment, picking up from her that she just wanted to move on. 

Until a spitball hit her face, right on the bruise on her jaw she’d tried to cover up with makeup just that morning. Aelin wiped it away quickly, clenching her jaw and fighting the humiliated tears that pricked at her eyes.

And when Rowan slowed down, about to say something to the antagonizers, she just grabbed his hand, pulling him along after her.

“It’s not worth it,” she muttered, “they’ll just think they got a rise out of me and keep doing it.” 

He looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t, just nodding and following her when she pulled him toward the sidewalk to begin the walk home.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, until Aelin could sense he was about to ask her about it, so she cut him off before he could.

“So what happened with your history test?” She asked, glancing over at him. “Why weren’t you prepared?” She kicked a rock idly in front of her, keeping it moving as they walked toward his house. 

Arobynn had been especially riled up that morning, and after she’d mentioned it to Rowan on the way to school, he’d practically forbidden her from going home that afternoon. 

To her surprise, his cheeks turned red. He stuttered over the start of his answer, and she felt her heart sinking, already knowing she wasn’t going to like what he had to say.

“My teacher switched our seats around,” he answered, not looking at her. “I ended up next to Lyria Willow.” 

Oh. 

Lyria Willow. She was a pretty brunette cheerleader, popular, but not part of Remelle’s group of friends. Aelin barely knew her, but she seemed sweet. And sweet was apparently Rowan’s type.

“Does Rowan have a little crush?” She teased, forcing a smile on her face. If anything, his blush grew. 

“It’s nothing,” he denied, shaking his head. “She’s moving anyway, she won’t be here next year.”

That was some relief at least, but it still hurt to hear about him liking anyone. 

“I got distracted during the quiz because she smiled at me,” he said quietly, as if embarrassed to admit it. He probably was, and she thought he should be. But being the supportive best friend she was, she wasn’t going to tease him about it anymore. 

The only thing that soothed her about this conversation was that she could see he was wearing his bracelet. True to his word, he hadn’t taken it off since she’d given it to him, and neither had she. 

Maybe Lyria had his heart, but she’d always have him.

Now

Back home at his apartment that evening, Rowan couldn’t get what he’d just witnessed out of his mind. Couldn’t get that guy out of his mind, or her outfit, or the sheer embarrassment in her eyes. 

He understood now, what she was doing. What her job was in Rifthold. 

“Gods,” he cursed under his breath as he closed the apartment door behind him, leaning his head against the other side of it. He’d missed a call from his mom earlier, but he couldn’t bring himself to call her back.

Not that she’d even be awake, but on the off chance that she was, he didn’t even know what he’d say. Maybe cry again like he had the night Aelin had left. Maybe just say nothing, maybe spill everything. But before that, he needed to sort out his own shit first.

He locked the door roughly, tossing the keys onto the kitchen countertop and moving to go collapse on the couch, his head in his hands. 

The silence settled over him and he stared down at the carpet of his apartment, too much going through his head.

An unknowable amount of time later, he stood up aggressively, going to his bedroom to grab his laptop. His hands were shaking as he sat back down on the couch, nearly throwing it open as he opened a search browser. 

First, he went on incognito mode, and then he messed around with it more until he got to the other side of the internet. The side most people didn’t go on. 

Rowan was a commercial lawyer, so he didn’t deal with things like that, but in law school he’d taken a class on more criminal law. He’d figured out how to access the dark web, and learned some of the ins and outs of the common sites you’d find on there. 

His friend in law school, one of the boys from the football team actually, Lorcan, had gone down more of that path. Rowan hadn’t wanted to, but the knowledge was useful now.

With a heavy sigh, he typed in just the name he’d heard. Just Celaena. And immediately her website popped up on the search results.

His heart was pounding as he clicked on it, a picture of her immediately popping up on the page. She was laying on a couch, scantly clad with a seductive smirk on her face. Her golden hair was loose and hanging around her, her body clearly on display for potential clients. 

In big text at the top was the name Celaena, her pseudonym he supposed, and a tab for booking “appointments”. He didn’t want to click on it, or the tab labeled “pricing.” He didn’t want to know how much it cost to buy her body, to buy her time, to buy her. 

She wasn’t something that should be sold. 

People shouldn’t be able to charge an hour of time with her to their credit card, like she was a commodity you could pick up in a store. It was sickening. 

Nausea swirled in his stomach at the sight of the screen in front of him, and he shut it before he could vomit all over the keyboard, his heart clenching in utter pain. 

He’d coped with her leaving by imagining her new life wherever she’d ended up. He imagined she’d found a job she loved, or imagined she’d been able to do something with the music she loved, or just ended up happy. Now he knew that wasn’t the case. 

A sob escaped him before he could stop it, and he scrubbed at his face, hoping to stop the tears before they really started spilling out of his eyes. But it was too late as his hands came away wet. 

And all he could do was lay back against the couch, and let it all out.

Ten Years Ago

High school had come.

Aelin hadn’t been especially excited or especially nervous about it. In a town as small as Perranth, it was essentially the same as middle school. She was sure to continue to be the outcast, and Rowan was sure to only get more popular.

Especially now that he’d made it onto the varsity football team. 

It was nearly unheard of as a freshman to surpass JV altogether, but her buzzard had. She’d been incredibly proud of him when she’d heard, just like he’d been proud of her when she got a piano solo in the music department’s showcase the year before. 

But she was sad too, because it just felt like another nail in the coffin for how everything was going to change. 

They’d only had a few classes together in eighth grade, but this year they had none. 

Her first day so far had been miserable, as she tried to figure everything out by herself, but Rowan had promised to meet her for lunch in the cafeteria. So that’s where she was, standing outside of the cafeteria with her bought lunch on a tray, waiting for him to show up. 

She glanced down at her watch, shifting on her feet nervously. Lunch had started nearly ten minutes ago. Where was he?

She glanced around, fighting the urge to chew her lip to shreds as she tried to spot him. Arobynn had given her a split lip the other day in a particularly nasty incident, and it was an admittedly bad habit of hers to continue to reopen the wound. 

She needed to stop, but sometimes venting the pain into that was the only way she could cope.

“Aelin,” a familiar voice said breathlessly, and she turned to see Rowan catching his breath, his lunch bag in his hand, his bracelet on his wrist. “Sorry I’m late.” 

“It’s okay,” she said, forcing a small smile onto her lips. Her self cut curtain bangs fell over her eye and she transferred the tray to one hand to use the other to push it back, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Where do you want to sit?” She nodded to the open cafeteria doors.

But Rowan cringed. “About that,” he said, sighing. “A couple of the players asked me to sit at their table today, and since I’m a freshman I don’t want to -”

“Miss out, I get it,” Aelin said, nodding. She ignored the disappointment swirling in her stomach. 

“It’s all good?” He asked, his brows furrowed, and all she could do was nod, especially after reading the excitement lining his features. He didn’t want to step on her toes, but he also clearly wanted to go sit with them. Who was she to deny him that?

“Yeah,” she rasped, “go enjoy.” 

“Where will you sit?” He asked, glancing back at the open cafeteria, and Aelin did the same, finding absolutely no one she knew. If she went in there, she’d end up alone at a table, and she wanted to do everything she could to avoid that.

“You know what,” she said, completely lying. “I just remembered. Chaol asked me to eat with him in the music room, so I have to go do that anyway.” 

“Chaol?” Rowan asked, and she nodded, forcing yet another smile onto her split lips.

“He just moved here,” she said. “He’s in the music program.” 

Chaol did just move here, and he was in the music program, but he certainly did not ask her to lunch. What was a little white lie, though? If it made him feel better, it was worth it.

“Oh, okay,” Rowan said, nodding. “That works then.” He took a step backward toward the cafeteria. “See you after school?”

“Yep,” she answered, tucking more falling hair behind her ear. “See you.” 

She waved once and then he was gone. 

With a sigh, Aelin turned away from the cafeteria doors, resigning herself to lunch alone in the library. That’s where she’d gone in middle school whenever Rowan had to miss for the day. Looks like she’d be starting the habit again.

Whatever, it was what it was. She just had to deal with it.

Now

After debating it for nearly the whole day before, Rowan was once again at Aelin’s apartment, this time with a box of chocolates in tow. She was right, and he needed to apologize. Well - he wasn’t quite wrong, but he couldn’t erase the look of pure embarrassment from her eyes and he needed to let her know that this didn’t change anything. That the life she’d ended up in didn’t change how he thought of her.

Or how much he cared for her.

He paused when he reached her door, nerves racing through him as he hesitated. Faintly, he could hear lilting piano, and he stayed quiet, hoping to hear the rest of the song. 

“Summer went away, but still the yearning stays,” he heard through the door. Aelin’s voice was quiet, and a bit hesitant, but as melodic as ever. He didn’t knock, not wanting to interrupt her. “I played it cool with the best of them.” 

He stepped closer to the door, placing his ear to it so he could hear better. It’d been so long since he’d heard her sing, and even then it was something she’d always been shy about. If Rowan had to guess, he’d say she really only ever sang around him maybe five times? If that.

But he’d always been enchanted by it.

“I wait patiently,” she continued, slowing down a little bit, as if she was thinking of what to sing next. Probably workshopping this very song. “He’s gonna notice me,” a small sigh. “It’s okay, we’re the best of…” 

She trailed off, a few dissonant chords hitting his ears before he could hear the piano bench scooching against the floor, and the light patter of feet leaving the room.

“Fuck,” he heard through the door, and he furrowed his brows, but decided it was time to stop eavesdropping on her. So he straightened, transferring the chocolates to one hand as he knocked with the other.

There was a pause where there was no noise at all, and then the door was opening. Aelin was on the other side, wiping her face quickly and sniffing before glancing up at him warily. 

“I brought chocolates,” Rowan said, lifting up the box as a peace offering. She hesitated, clearly considering what to do, but eventually she opened the door more to let him inside. 

“You can’t stay long,” she said lowly. “I have a client coming in half an hour.” 

His brows furrowed. “It’s noon,” he said, a little dumbfounded. In fact, he was here on his lunch break, so he couldn’t stay very long anyway. But she just shrugged. 

“I’m available any day, any time,” she said, her voice humorless. “I don’t get to judge when they want to use me, I just let them do it.” 

She shut the door behind him with a bit of finality, and he saw what she was wearing properly. 

It was another set of lingerie, sheerer this time instead of lacy, but covered up by that same red silk robe. Her tanned legs were on display, peeking out of the bottom of the material, but he forced his eyes away. 

“I want to apologize,” Rowan said, and he heard her sigh before she turned around to face him. Her expression was tired. “I want to say I’m sorry.”

“I know you are,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry too.” 

She tucked her hair behind her ears, that familiar nervous gesture of hers, one of the few lasting similarities between how she was now and how she was then. Clearing her throat, she brushed past him, moving toward the kitchen.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, staying put.

“A lot better than the other day,” she answered, not looking at him. “Thank you for your help.” 

Rowan just nodded idly, pursing his lips.

“How…long?” He asked after a moment, trying to figure out how to frame the question. Taking a step after her, he set the chocolates down on the counter, choosing to perch in one of the barstools.

Aelin just laughed humorlessly. “Eight years.” 

Eight years. 

Which meant… “Aelin, you were seventeen,” he said, blinking in shock. “Who did this to you?” 

She furrowed her brows at the phrasing, but Rowan didn’t know how else to put it. She was probably blaming herself for where she’d ended up, had likely blamed herself ever since it started. But if it’d been going on for eight years, and she really had been seventeen, then he placed the blame solely on whoever had gotten her into this. 

Who had first… had first hired her.

Or used her. Whichever statement one preferred. Either way, Aelin was in no way at fault. 

“I was at a bar,” she said, looking to the side a little bit. “When I first came to Rifthold.” She shook her head. “There was a man, and I don’t know, I just… it was easy to just… I don’t know.” She shook her head again, and Rowan didn’t press the point. She’d tell him when she was ready. 

He wasn’t sure he wouldn’t go kill the man who’d done this. But he’d cross that bridge later.

Aelin slid into the seat next to him, leaning her elbows against the counter. “So there you go,” she said drily. “You know my sordid secret. I’m assuming you still think I made a mistake leaving?” 

Rowan didn’t know what to say. The immediate answer was yes, but -

“Did you want to stay?” He asked, knowing the answer to that too. Aelin pursed her lips, looking away. No. She didn’t. And he knew why, part of the reason was him. And that godsdamned mistake and that godsdamned night. “Aelin, I’m so-”

“Don’t,” she said, shaking her head and smiling weakly. “Don’t apologize. There’s no need to rehash the past.” 

Rowan just nodded, not saying anything. She was right. It wouldn’t do anything now. Any apology he made would be eight years too late.

“You probably should go soon,” she said after a minute, not looking at him.

“It’s only been ten minutes,” he said, and she shrugged, looking away. 

“Gives me more time to prepare.” 

“Prepare?” He couldn’t help but pry, and she just chuckled humorlessly.

“Prepare mentally,” she answered, pushing herself to a stand. “It takes time, you know?”

“You know,” Rowan said, already wincing. “You don’t have to keep doing this.”

“And do what?” Aelin asked, incredulous, and he couldn’t blame her. “I didn’t even graduate high school, Rowan. What am I supposed to do?”

“Anything but this,” he said quietly, shaking his head. Her brows wrought together, and he knew he’d messed up. 

“Are you judging me?” She asked, stepping away from him a bit. “You think this is easy?” Aelin continued, crossing her arms over her chest like a shield. “You think I didn’t cry myself to sleep for weeks at the beginning? You think I didn’t used to vomit after every godsdamned appointment I had?” She shook her head, tears collecting in those soulful blue eyes as she had the breakdown he’d known was coming.

 “People want so much from me,” she sighed heavily. “I’m not curvy enough, I’m not skinny enough, I’m not sexy enough, I’m too sexy.” She closed her eyes, a tear sliding down her cheek. “I don’t…always eat properly, I know that. It’s just easy to let all of those words sink in. And easy to let myself cave in, internalizing the disgust I feel for everything,” she shuddered, “and directing it at myself.” 

She blinked her eyes open, glancing over at him. His heart had already fractured in two. 

“But it’s just the way it is,” she said, her voice eerily empty. 

“It doesn’t have to be,” he whispered, shaking his head and taking a step toward her. But she just shrugged. 

“There’s no changing it now,” she said, wiping the tear off of her cheek and straightening her robe. “I’m already ruined.”

Before he could say anything against that declaration, she was pushing open the door to the guest bedroom. Or not her guest bedroom - her working room - making sure everything was ready to go. 

He took that as his cue to leave, just like she’d requested. 

Now wasn’t the time to argue. He just wished she could see what he saw. Not something broken that needed to be fixed, but someone so godsdamned strong she’d managed to survive everything life threw her way. 

His Fireheart. That’s who she was.

Nine Years Ago

“Hey Mrs. Whitethorn!” Aelin greeted as she opened the front door without even knocking, so familiar with both of its occupants she didn’t even need to. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” Rowan’s mom greeted warmly from where she was at her desk tucked back in the corner of the kitchen. She worked as a nurse, but sometimes had to do some administration and budgeting stuff from home. Especially right before she had a shift, which she did tonight.

Aelin poked her head around the frame, carrying her bag on one shoulder. 

“Rowan’s not home yet from practice,” Lianna continued, “but feel free to make yourself at home. Like always,” she laughed musically. 

“It’s what I do best,” Aelin said with a wink, before pushing off the frame and heading down the hallway toward her best friend’s room. 

It was their annual sleepover, and though things had certainly changed from 10 to 17, they’d kept up with it. Since discovering her feelings for him, and how deep they went, she’d thought it’d be awkward to share a bed. But she’d been respectful, and he always was, and she found that it was just comfortable. 

It always was. 

She opened the door, closing it behind her and dropped her bag on the ground before collapsing onto his bed. His pillows smelled like him, that pine scent she loved so much, and like a creep she breathed it in, closing her eyes as she relaxed into his mattress. 

After a minute of that she rolled over, staring up at the ceiling fan, watching it circle around and around. Aelin much preferred this room to her own. She much preferred this house to her own. She much preferred him to herself. 

Maybe it wasn’t healthy, but it was true.

It was hard to have great self esteem when your supposed parental figure hit you every other day, your entire school bullied you, and the one friend you had would never care for you the same way you cared for him. Warmth hit her eyes unbidden, and she blinked them away, rolling to her side.

But something caught her gaze. 

Her face fell and she sat up, reaching for the friendship bracelet that lay abandoned on his nightstand. Unabashedly not on his wrist where it was supposed to be. Aelin couldn’t think, she just stared at it and felt her heart splinter.

Until the sound of the front door bursting open and closed. 

“How was practice, honey?” She heard Rowan’s mom ask him, but he just grunted. Aelin frowned. “Aelin’s in your room by the way,” she added, and Aelin sat up fully, wiping at her face to get rid of any trace of tears. 

It wiped away a bit of the concealer she’d carefully applied that morning, but it was alright. He’d seen so many of her bruises it didn’t matter anyway. His mom had seen a few, ones she’d tried to explain away unsuccessfully, but hadn’t pushed the matter.

The couple of times Lianna Whitethorn had tried to bring up legal action, Aelin had shut it down immediately. It wasn’t worth the trouble. She didn’t want to owe them anything more than what she already did.

As Rowan headed down the hallway, Aelin darted up, reaching for his closet to pull out the blankets and extra pillows needed for their pillow fort. He’d made it the first year, but now it was tradition to make it together. They’d gotten pretty good at it over the years.

The bedroom door opened right as she dropped the pile on the floor and her best friend stumbled in, dropping his football bag on the ground next to it. She furrowed her brows, analyzing his appearance. His hair was messy and he was sweaty like he always was after practice, but his head was down, not giving her a good look at his face. 

“Rowan?” Aelin asked hesitantly, turning to sit cross legged on his bed. “You good?” 

He just grunted again, looking like he was going to head right back out the door and down to the bathroom, but she stopped him, darting up and placing a hand on his arm. 

“Hey,” she said firmly, turning him to face her. And her face fell yet again as he finally looked at her. Looked at her with red, bloodshot eyes. His pupils were dilated, nearly hiding all of that beautiful green, and she knew. “Are you high?” She asked, completely shocked. 

Rowan just stepped away from her, slurring “I don’t know what you mean.” 

She clenched her jaw. ‘What the hell happened?” She asked, her voice tight. “You were at football practice.” 

He looked away again, shrugging loosely. “One of the boys had a joint after practice, Archer I think? They were all doing it.” 

“So you did it too?” She huffed. “Gods, Rowan. And you drove home like this?” 

“Walked,” he said, slumping down onto the bed. “Left my car.” 

She heard the telltale signs of the front door opening and closing again, and then the fiddling of the lock, signalling Rowan’s mom leaving for her shift at the hospital. Leaving them alone.

Aelin sighed heavily, walking in front of him and grabbing his jaw with a hand, tilting his face to get a proper look at him. His eyes were hazy and bugged out, his mouth slack and his gaze altogether unfocused. 

“Gods, how much did you even smoke?” She asked, sighing heavily when he just shrugged again. “Okay, I’m going to get you some water okay?”

He didn’t say anything, so she left him laying there, toeing off her shoes and padding to the kitchen quickly and filling up a cup with water from the sink. Once back in his room, she grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to sit up a bit and lean against the headboard, kneeling next to him on the bed and holding up the cup to his mouth. 

He hesitated, but after she pinched his arm he complied, opening his mouth and letting her get water into it. They repeated it a couple of times, and she made sure he swallowed after every gulp until the cup was empty. 

Aelin set it down on his nightstand, next to the bracelet he’d seemingly taken off who knows when. She hadn’t seen him at all today, or yesterday. He’d been busy with practice, and she’d had music lessons after school. 

She’d really dived into music more and more since entering high school, and even found a new passion in writing lyrics. During boring classes, she’d take out her journal and scribble down little poems that she later tried to set to music when given free time with the piano at school or at the music store down the street. 

The owner there, Emrys, was always nice enough to let her use it. 

It was a great way to vent, and she found that whenever she couldn’t process what she was feeling, translating it into song was helpful. 

“I’m going to be sick,” Rowan muttered a few seconds later, and Aelin cursed, helping him to a stand. She managed to get him down the hallway and into the bathroom before he was falling to his knees and vomiting in the toilet. 

She brushed his back soothingly as he retched up whatever he’d eaten that day, murmuring words of comfort. 

“I’ll be right back,” she said, darting back to the kitchen to get more water. He was breathing heavily, but was leaning against the wall and away from the toilet when she returned, taking the cup from her willingly. 

She sat down next to him, watching him carefully as he took small sips of water. 

“Are you feeling any better?” She asked, and he sighed, simply taking another sip of water. But then his bleary gaze focused on her face. 

Without saying anything he reached out a hand, lightly caressing the bruise on her cheekbone. Aelin couldn’t stop herself form leaning into his touch, but didn’t fight it as his arm dropped again. 

“Let’s get you into bed,” she said, unable to hide the tinge of disappointment in her voice. It was their sleepover, it was supposed to be her comfort to escape from the memories of her parents’ death. It was supposed to be one of the only times they just got to be them. 

She was happy to be here to help him, but she was still disappointed. 

Rowan followed her willingly, letting her help him up and back down the hallway, helping him get his shoes off and onto the bed, taking one of the discarded blankets that was supposed to build their fort and laying it on top of him. 

He fell asleep quicker than he probably ever had, and Aelin just laid on top of the bed next to him, staring back up at the ceiling fan. Words were swirling around in her head, and she took her phone out of her pocket, opening her notes app and jotting a few things down. It was a bit nonsensical, but all the best music was. She’d fix it later.

She stiffened as Rowan turned in his sleep, reaching an arm out carelessly to hook around her waist. His nose burrowed in her hair, and she could barely breathe, feeling every inch of the closeness between them. 

It took her a few minutes to calm down, and even longer to even entertain the idea of sleep. But after getting over the initial shock, his arms around her were familiar and comforting, and she put her phone down and sunk into the grasp, letting sleep take her.

But even as the world drifted away, the sight of that bracelet on his nightstand haunted her dreams.

---

An indiscernable amount of time later, she was woken up to the soft sounds of sniffling, and she cracked her eyes open to see Rowan laying next to her, his eyes on the ceiling fan as he tried to hide his evident tears.

“Rowan?” She asked, turning to face him. It was pitch black outside, so it must’ve been the middle of the night. “Are you alright?” She asked, her voice raspy. 

He started to nod his head before realizing it was futile and shaking it instead. Something close to a sob escaped him. “What am I doing?” He asked, and her heart splintered a little more. “Why the hell did I do that?” 

She knew what was bothering him. It was what always bothered him. 

She sighed, sitting up a little bit to fully face him. His green eyes were watery, but they were back to normal and she was grateful to see the change. Even through the devastation in them.

“I try so hard not to be like him,” Rowan whispered, “and yet here I am, getting high and hurting myself. Hurting you.” His eyes were glued to hers, vivid in the dark room. “I’m supposed to be the one comforting you today, and yet I was vomiting in the bathroom while you kept me safe.”

“Row-”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted, a rebellious tear spilling down his tan cheek. “I’m so sorry.” He normally didn’t let his insecurities show, but this was the one thing that always got him. 

“Rowan,” she said more firmly, scooting a bit closer and daring to set a hand on his cheek. “I’m okay, okay? I’m here, I’m fine. Yeah, I can’t lie and say I think smoking weed was a good decision.” She cracked a wry smile and he huffed a tiny laugh. “But I understand the pressure. And I think the fact that you’re so worried about it shows so much that you will never be like your dad, alright?” 

He hesitated, but nodded, sniffing back his emotions. 

“Can I hold you?” He asked, and she tried not to read too much into the question, but complied, laying back down beside him and letting him wrap both his arms around her, pulling her in close. She was fully wrapped in his body, and she let her eyes fall closed, tucking her nose into his shirt and breathing him in. 

They fell asleep again like that, finding comfort in each other. Despite the way everything was changing, that was something that hadn’t.

Yet, as they woke up the next morning and got ready for school with soft smiles and tired hearts, neither of them mentioned the bracelet. 

Now

Rowan needed a drink. Desperately. 

After the talk with Aelin the day before, he’d gone back to work completely out of it, and his new coworker Fenrys had talked him into going to the bar with him that evening. He’d agreed, and the drinks had admittedly cleared his head for a little bit.

But it’d all returned the next day, so here he was again, outside the same bar, hoping to have that hour or so of freedom. 

It maybe wasn’t the best method, but he’d both texted and called Aelin earlier in the day to no avail, so he needed to get lost for a little bit while figuring out what to do to help her. Or at least get her to see that he was there for her. 

It was chilly outside, so he’d worn a sweater probably nicer than needed for the establishment he was going to, but he hadn’t finished unpacking all of his clothes. So this was what he had to work with. 

But he barely even cared as he pushed open the door, welcoming the chaos of the crowd inside. It was noisy, and no one noticed him as he slipped up to the bar, ordering a whiskey. 

He sat down on a barstool, jiggling his leg and staring at the bartender as he waited for his drink. Just a couple, and then he’d go home and get some sleep. He really needed some good sleep.

“You again,” a familiar voice slurred, and he furrowed his brow. “Of course you’re here.” 

He turned, seeing Aelin sitting down a couple of barstools away from him, several empty glass in front of her. From that, her voice, and the way her eyes were slightly glossy, it was clear she was well past sober. 

“Aelin,” he said, a tad surprised. 

“I was trying to escape my problems,” she continued to say, slumping her head against her hand and stirring the cocktail in front of her. “But you’re just following me around.” 

“I’m a problem?” He asked, raising a brow, trying to hide the hurt he felt from the words. But Aelin scoffed, rolling her eyes dramatically. The motion took her head with it, and therefore pulled it off her hand, and she nearly fell over if not for Rowan reaching to help straighten her. 

Gods. 

He grabbed the drink from the bartender and scooted over to sit next to her, brows furrowed in concern. 

“You’re not a problem per se,” Aelin continued, gesturing wildly at him. “You’re just- you’re just mean.” 

“Oh so I’m just mean?” Rowan asked, one side of his lips quirking up. “That’s all?”

“You’re making me feel too much,” she complained, taking a large sip of her cocktail, which left a line of pink on her upper lip. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. 

“What does that mean?” He asked, taking a sip of his drink. He couldn’t deny he was curious. Maybe prying just a little bit.

She groaned, dropping her head to the bar top. “I don’t like feeling.” She tilted her head to look at him, her eyes bleary, mascara smeared. “It hurts.”

He’d been chuckling a minute ago, but now concern was spilling through his veins and he wondered if it was just best for her to go home. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, sitting his drink down. She shrugged, the movement awkward in her position. 

“Drinking my problems away,” she said, “but they don’t like leaving.” After that, she sat up abruptly, reaching for the half full cocktail glass and draining the rest of the contents. “Ah,” she said, smacking her lips. “Delicious.” 

She tilted her head back, but the movement, like before, took her too far and she almost slipped off the back. She would’ve, if he hadn’t darted behind her to keep her from falling flat on her face.

“Okay,” Rowan said, helping her stand up. “Time to go home.” 

She mumbled a protest, shaking her head. “I just got here,” she said, and he laughed humorlessly at the clearly untrue statement. He’d just gotten here, but it didn’t matter now. 

“You need to go get some sleep,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and letting her lean against him as they stumbled toward the exit. He’d thrown cash on the bar top, hoping that was enough to cover what they both owed. 

But suddenly, she stopped, shaking her head rapidly. “I can’t go home,” she said, looking up at him, her blue eyes wide and drunk. “He’s there.” 

Rowan froze, eying her carefully. “Who’s there?” 

“Farran,” she said, sounding surprisingly sober. “He’s a regular but I didn’t want to tonight, I couldn’t tonight so I bailed and ended up here.” She shook her head. “He’ll be waiting for me. I can’t go back.” Her eyes were wide as she added one last thing that chilled him to the bone. “He’ll hurt me.” 

Rowan loosed a heavy breath, fighting the urge to go over to her place and beat this Farran guy up. But he needed to make sure she was safe. That was the priority. 

“Okay,” he nodded, “we’ll go to mine. How does that sound?” 

Her eyes were still wide but she nodded slowly. 

“Okay,” he said, forcing a small smile onto his face. “But don’t judge the place too harshly, I haven’t had time to set up.” 

A small giggle escaped her and he took that as a sign of success, hugging her close to him as he hailed a taxi. 

It didn’t take long, and once they were inside, she leaned up against him, resting her head on his chest. Rowan wrapped an arm around her, combing gently through her hair as she nuzzled into his shirt. The contact made him blush slightly but he pushed the feeling away. 

It was a short ride, and soon enough they were at his apartment complex. He knew the stairs would be daunting for her, so all he did when they got out was hoist her into his arms, her heeled feet floating in the air as she cuddled into him, not even speaking.

In fact, she was nearly falling asleep.

So much so, that when they got upstairs, after he carefully transferred her weight to unlock his apartment door, all he did was walk into his bedroom and set her down carefully on his mattress. He took off her shoes gently, but left her in her dress, not wanting to do anything that would make her uncomfortable. 

Rowan tucked a blanket over her carefully, and then grabbed her a glass of water and some advil for when she woke up. She could stay for however long she needed, if only so she was safe. Not just because he wanted her around, though he did. But he felt like he owed it to her after all the years apart, after all the mistakes he’d made. 

Plus, he cared too much about her to let her be in danger. He wanted her safe, and preferably happy. If that meant with him, he wasn’t about to complain.

Rowan went over to the door, about to flick off the lights and leave her to rest in peace, fully prepared to go sleep on the couch. 

But then -

“Stay?” Aelin’s croaky voice asked, reminiscent of when she was sick just the week before. And who was he to deny her? 

So with barely any hesitation, he turned off the light and took off his own shoes, climbing up next to her on the bed. He laid down a respectful distance away from her, but she rolled onto her side, reaching out for him. 

She curled up to him like a koala, tucking her nose into his neck and wrapping her arms around his body. Rowan just placed an arm around her, holding her close. If this was the comfort she wanted, he would provide it. 

“Get some sleep, Fireheart” he murmured quietly, combing through her hair gently. She mumbled something he didn’t quite comprehend, something like I and then he heard ou, with a v sound in there somewhere. 

It wasn’t very clear, but he wasn’t going to wake her up to ask. She fell asleep easily, and after a few more minutes, he did too.

Eight Years Ago

Aelin felt surprisingly jittery as she stepped into the building, her feet shaking a bit in her tall heels as she walked toward the entrance to the hotel conference room, where their junior prom was located.

She hadn’t even decided to go until earlier that day, and scrambled for the store to get a dress and shoes, and then do her hair well and makeup, which she’d never really done before. At most she wore mascara and concealer to class every day, this was her first time doing more. Her mom should’ve been the one to teach her, but instead, she’d figured it out on her own.

The hours wasted on that aside, Aelin thought she looked nice, and she was actually feeling excited about this. She was excited to see Rowan. Sure, things hadn’t been the same between them for a while now, something that had been the subject of multiple half-written songs, but it was still Rowan. 

He was still her best friend, no matter how much she’d prayed to the gods that he could be something more.

Rowan didn’t know she was coming, and nerves fluttered through her as she pushed open the door into the main room. It was decked out in style, matching the 1920s Flapper theme, or whatever Student Government had come up with. All she knew was that in her golden dress, she nearly fit in with the decor.

She spotted him quickly enough, standing by a wall, sipping on a glass of punch. She smiled weakly, though it fell when she saw him talking to another girl, even if he didn’t look very enthused to be doing it. 

She could tell the exact moment he saw her though, because his face went slack. His green eyes went wide, and Aelin smoothed down her skirt with shaking hands, staying still and smiling nervously as he walked over to her, abandoning the girl he was with.

“You look… absolutely beautiful,” he said, shaking his head, and she could feel her entire face break out into a flush. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” she said teasingly, which was an understatement. In the black suit he wore, with a black shirt underneath, he looked absolutely mouthwatering. Warmth stirred through her body, pooling in her core, and she glanced away, trying to fight the arousal. He was her best friend, she couldn’t feel like that.

Especially when he didn’t feel the same way back.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” Rowan said, and she shrugged. 

“It’s prom,” she said, “you only get two in your whole life. I don’t know where I’ll be next year, so might as well try this time.” 

Rowan narrowed his eyes at her wording, but didn’t press her. He didn’t like it when she talked like that, more pessimistically, almost fatalistically, but what else was she supposed to do? Her life didn’t exactly make it easy to consider where she’d be in a year’s time. 

“Well,” he said after a moment, “I’m happy to see you.” His lips quirked up in that little half smile of his she loved, and her heart fluttered. Aelin smiled bashfully, tucking her bottom lip into her mouth to hide it. “Want to get some punch?” He asked, and she nodded, a jolt of electricity racing through her when he lightly touched her lower back to guide her to the refreshments table. 

The back of her dress was open, meaning she could feel his rough calluses from football directly against her smooth skin. It wasn’t exactly helping her hide what he did to her.

They didn’t speak as he got her a glass of punch, and they hovered over by the side of the room as she sipped on it. The room was crowded, with loud music playing, but instead of feeling overwhelmed at the chaos, she was at peace there next to him. 

He was wearing his bracelet, visible in brief moments when he moved his arm, and she was happy to see it back where it belonged. He’d put it on again the day after the failed sleepover, not mentioning why it was off in the first place, but it hadn’t budged since. 

“Rowan!” A shrill voice cut through the music playing in the room, and Aelin’s face fell as Remelle LaFleur made her way over to where they were standing. “There you are!” 

The blonde was wearing a skin tight ice blue dress, and no matter how much Aelin hated her, she couldn’t deny she looked good. Head cheerleader, blonde beauty, she was the queen of the popular crowd, and tended to treat Aelin like she was the scum on the bottom of her high heeled shoe. She had since elementary school.

Rowan, being on the football team, was too high status for Aelin’s company, which Remelle never failed to remind her. This time, she just disregarded Aelin entirely, pushing past her to nearly throw herself at Rowan.

“I haven’t seen you all evening,” she pouted, making Aelin want to gag. 

“Remelle,” Rowan said, forcing a smile to his face. At least she liked to think it was forced. Something sank in her stomach. “How are you?” 

“I’m doing amazing,” Remelle cooed, and Aelin nearly rolled her eyes. “Benson spiked the other punch bowl,” she said, “makes the evening much more fun. Do you want some?” 

Aelin almost said something, but Rowan nodded, reaching over to the punch bowl on the other side of the table, filling up a cup. She felt queasy. “Do you want some, Aelin?” He asked her, and she was going to shake her head, but Remelle answered for her.

“Of course she doesn’t,” she said dismissively. “She’s such a prude.” 

“Just because I don’t want to drink at prom doesn’t mean I’m a prude,” Aelin spit without thinking, earning Remelle’s full attention for the first time that evening. The blonde looked at her with her icy eyebrows raised, an ugly snarl on her lips. 

“Oh yeah?” She asked, and Aelin clenched her jaw. “You’re just a joke.” She spit the word as if it was the worst insult imaginable. “You’re such a child," she shook her head. “I don’t know why Rowan even bothers to put up with you. Probably just out of pity cause your parents died and your new daddy hits you.” 

Aelin was shaking - with anger, shame, frustration - she didn’t know what.

“Hey, back off,” Rowan interrupted, his voice harsh. “Who do you think you are?” 

Remelle just turned to face him, smiling prettily. “I’m just trying to remind her of her place,” she said casually. “The school charity case.”

Aelin couldn’t sit there anymore, she turned and headed in the opposite direction, toward the exit. She pushed open the double doors aggressively, hurrying down the hallway in her heels until she was far away from the blaring music. It was only then she collapsed against the wall, bracing herself up with a hand. 

“Fireheart,” Rowan’s voice reached her ears, slightly breathy like he’d chased after her. 

“What,” she snapped, squeezing her eyes shut. “What do you want?”

He stayed silent for a moment, and she breathed slowly, feeling him come up behind her. He lightly grabbed her chin, turning her head gently to look at him. Aelin opened her eyes, slightly blurry from the tears. Her best friend was looking back at her so sadly, and she sniffed, turning her head out of his hand. 

She sucked in a shaky breath, smoothing down her dress.

“Let’s just get back inside,” she said flatly. “I don’t need to let her know she affects me.” 

Rowan caught her hand as she turned to walk back to the doors, and her eyes watered as he lifted it, pressing a quick kiss to her palm.  

The trip back into the room felt like a blur, her ankles wobbling in her too tall heels as she headed back inside, her buzzard at her side. She breathed deeply as she pushed open the door, keeping her chin high. 

And was immediately met with a bowl full of punch. 

She couldn’t move as it was thrown all over her front, the red liquid soaking through her dress and staining her skin, slowly dripping down the golden fabric. Blood rushed through her ears, and she could practically hear her heart pumping as she stood there unable to move as the other bowl was dumped from above, soaking her hair and dripping down her face and ruining all of the makeup she’d worked so hard on earlier. 

She couldn’t hear all of the laughter and the jeers from the rest of her grade, she couldn’t see the flashing lights of pictures and videos, couldn’t hear Rowan yelling at them all, berating them for ruining her fucking life. 

He probably wasn’t saying that, but godsdamn did she feel like it. 

One night. She was just trying to have one night, and she wasn’t even able to do that. 

Hot tears pricked at her eyes, and dripped down her face like burning lava, undoubtedly making streaks in the red liquid covering her. 

“Aelin,” a voice finally pierced the haze, and she slowly turned her head, feeling like the world was in slow motion as she looked at Rowan. Her gaze locked onto his green eyes, full of so much concern and sorrow, and in the midst of this fucking chaos, everything settled right into place. 

---

Rowan gave her a towel the moment they got to his car, and Aelin spent the ride to his house wringing spiked punch out of her hair. His mom was working a night shift, so they’d have the place to themselves.

Aelin hadn’t originally planned on it, but she couldn’t stand going back to her own house now. Not when she’d have to explain why she was covered in red, and would undoubtedly be laughed at yet again. She couldn’t bear it.

“We’re here,” Rowan said as he pulled into his driveway, and Aelin didn’t bother to respond, holding her shoes in her hand as she climbed out of the car. The concrete bit into her feet, but she didn’t feel it. She didn’t feel much of anything.

Her face was flat and she lagged behind as her best friend unlocked the door to his house, holding the door open for her to trudge inside. She wanted to flop on the couch and cry, but she also didn’t want to touch anything, lest she stain it. 

“Can I shower?” She asked, her voice cracking a bit. She hadn’t talked all car ride there.

“Of course,” he said, taking the towel from her as she began to head down the hallway, toward where his bathroom was. She’d been over here so many times it was practically second nature. “Hey, Aelin?” Rowan called softly, and she turned, unable to make eye contact with him. “I’m sorry.” 

All she was able to do was nod absently and walk away.

She felt hollow as she stripped off her dress, watching the red stained fabric fall to the tiled floor. The golden she’d been so excited about…ruined.  But no tears pricked her eyes as she pulled her hair down from its style, climbing into the shower and rinsing the whole evening away.

By the time she was done, cleaned off and changed into the clothes Rowan had let her borrow, her mind was whirring. Instead of numbness, she was feeling too much, and it hurt as she traversed back into the living room. Until she saw what Rowan had done.

Tears finally pricked her eyes as she saw the little blanket fort he’d made, creating a cozy little area right in front of the couch. 

“To make up for last time,” he said, referencing their annual sleepover, the night he’d gotten high and had cried to her about it. The night she wrote her first song. It hadn’t been long since then, but now she had journals full. 

More than a few of them were about him.

The words were on the tip of her tongue, those three little words that she so desperately longed to say but couldn’t. 

She forced her legs into action, coming to sit down by him in the little fort. It was spacious inside, with several pillows and blankets making it comfortable, but she still sat right next to him, unable to deny herself that. He smelled like pine, and she could feel the heat emanating off of him. She wanted to drown herself in him.

“I’m sorry,” Aelin said, her voice tight. Rowan’s brows furrowed, and she elaborated. “I ruined your night.” He was already shaking his head.

“No, Fireheart,” he said, reaching out to brush a strand of her wet hair behind her ear. She leaned into his touch. He wasn’t always this touchy with her, and had been even less so recently, so she craved this momentary closeness. “I’m sorry, for not realizing how bad it’d gotten.” 

Aelin just shrugged, glancing away from him. There was another moment of silence before - “Do you think I’m a joke?” The words were quiet. 

“Aelin,” Rowan said, trying to get her attention, but she wasn’t looking. “Aelin.” His voice was insistent enough that she turned to look, her gaze blurry from unshed tears. “Of course I don’t think that. You’re my best friend, alright?” His expression was full of determination, and she didn’t realize when it happened but somehow they were only inches apart. 

Her breathing suddenly felt tighter, her heart pounding and her core heavy with want as she realized how close they were. How she could lean forward just a tiny bit and his lips would be on hers. 

He seemed to realize it too, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he glanced down at her lips, leaning almost closer. 

“What are we doing?” She asked breathlessly, mad at herself but unable to continue without some sort of provocation. She didn’t want to ruin anything. 

“I don’t know,” her best friend whispered back, but it didn’t stop him from moving in, nearly speaking onto her lips.

“What does this mean?” Aelin pressed, desperately hoping for any hint that he felt the same way back. But her hopes were dashed when he answered-

“Does it have to mean anything?” He asked, and her heart crumbled, but she didn’t pull away. It was definitely self-sabotage, but if this was all she could ever get of him… she’d take it.

So Aelin crossed the space between them and kissed him. 

He hesitated for a moment, and she paused, wondering if she’d completely misread the situation, but then he was kissing her back. His lips were hot against hers, and she sighed into his mouth as he deepened the kiss, a hand sliding around to her waist, pulling her slightly closer. 

He tasted better than she could have ever even imagined, and her whole body felt charged, especially as he tugged her even closer. She ended up practically on his lap, every inch of their bodies touching. 

“Gods, Rowan,” she moaned into his mouth, her hands cupping the back of his neck. His had slipped under the hem of her (his) shirt, his skin hot against hers as he continued kissing her, their lips sliding against each other over and over again. 

But as he slowly shifted her to lay down against the blankets, Aelin hesitated. The farthest she’d ever gotten with someone was kissing, certainly not anything close to what she wanted to do with Rowan. Right here, right now. But she needed to tell him first.

“Rowan,” she said, an unwilling gasp escaping her as he pressed hot kisses to her neck. “Rowan -” she repeated, pressing at his shoulder, and he paused, pulling back to look at her. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, brows furrowed. “Do you want to stop?”

“No,” she shook her head desperately. But then she bit her lip, her cheeks flushed bright red. “I just - I’ve never done this before.” 

Aelin was sure he already knew, or at least suspected. She was an outcast at school, who would she have lost her virginity to? It wasn’t something she was normally embarrassed about, but for some reason she was now. 

Until Rowan smiled bashfully down at her. “Neither have I,” he agreed, and she blinked in surprise. She would’ve thought… he was on the football team, he was popular, he had girls like Remelle clinging to him. They were best friends, but for some reason she’d never expected that he would tell her, she just thought she’d always be doomed to lag behind. 

“Do you want to figure it out together?” He asked a bit shyly, and in that moment, as she nodded, she had to force herself to remember that he’d already shut down her feelings if he knew it or not. He’d already rejected her. It didn’t mean anything to him, it was just getting the awkward first time out of the way.

Aelin knew all of that. But she didn’t know how long she was going to last without telling him she loved him. She wouldn’t survive this much longer. 

But now wasn’t the time. Instead, she just gave in to the deep kiss he pressed to her lips, clutching his shoulders as he awkwardly settled himself on top of her. Her breath caught as she felt him hard against her, her body pounding with desire. 

Her toes curled against the blanket as he hesitantly nudged at her lips with his tongue, and Aelin opened her mouth to let him in. She didn’t think she could feel this much going on at once, her whole body felt like it was going to combust. 

One of Rowan’s hands was braced by her head, but the other reached for the hem of her shirt, sliding under it to touch the bare skin of her stomach. A shuddering gasp escaped her, despite how light the touch was, and she could feel him grin slightly against her lips. 

She clutched his shoulders tighter as he lifted his hand higher, his thumb caressing the underside of her bare breast. 

“Is this okay?” He asked, pulling back slightly, and she nodded, sucking her bottom lip in between her teeth. Another gasp escaped her as he brushed his thumb over her nipple, her toes curling against the blanket again. She was going to die.

He swallowed the gasp in another heartstopping kiss, groaning himself as Aelin finally moved her hands to reach for him through his pants. She needed him inside of her, now.

Rowan seemed to sense her urgency, leaning back to take off his jacket and quickly unbutton his shirt, stripping out of his prom clothes as quickly as possible. Aelin rid herself of his shirt, only hesitating a moment before laying back down, feeling suddenly exposed.

But he just let out a shuddering sigh, leaning back down to press a hot kiss to her neck. “You’re so beautiful.” 

Her whole body was pounding with desire, her skin covered in a sheen of sweat, and she pulled his head back down for another kiss. This time, his free hand slipped down to the hem of her underwear, slowly, while checking to make sure she was okay, sliding it down her legs. 

Aelin was sure her entire body was flushing red, but she fought the urge to curl into herself and hide as he saw her whole body for the first time ever. 

A dozen emotions passed over his face, but he just placed a light, reverent kiss to her lips as his free hand brushed over her clit.

“Oh,” she sighed, her brows wrought together and her eyes falling closed as he slowly pressed a finger into her. “Oh gods.” 

She’d never felt anything near this before, she felt like she was on fire, like she could dissolve into a thousand little pieces as he added another finger, slowly figuring out what to do, pumping them in and out of her. 

“Rowan,” she moaned, her head dropping back against the blankets. She clutched at him desperately, heat racing through every inch of her. But before she could reach that mythical cliff, she stopped him.

He pulled back, a question on his face, but she just lifted herself up on her elbows, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder. She hadn’t gotten to see him shirtless anytime recently, and she’d been missing out.

Varsity football had only added to the muscles already defined across his chest and stomach and arms, and it was a mouthwatering sight. She could stare at him forever and never get bored.

“I want you,” she said breathlessly, and he just groaned, reaching for his pants. He pulled a condom from somewhere, sliding it on himself when he took off his underwear. Aelin couldn’t breathe at the sight. 

Her heart was pounding as he hovered over her, lacing their hands together and pressing them at the side of her head. 

“Let me know if it hurts, okay?” He asked, concern etched across his features, and warmth soared through her. Not desire this time, love. 

“I will,” she answered, smiling softly up at him. But the smile turned into a gasp as he pressed into her ever so slightly, her brows wrought together as he pushed in a little more. He was pressing dozens of little kisses to her neck and her jaw, fluttering over her cheeks too. 

It didn’t hurt, more uncomfortable, but she urged him to keep going, a long groan escaping her as he sheathed himself in all the way. 

And then he started moving. 

It was slow at first, and careful, but when she lifted her leg to dig a heel into his back, he picked up his pace, pushing into her faster and faster. 

Breathy gasps escaped her the more he went, and he groaned into her lips as he captured them for another kiss, deeper and more desperate this time. 

Their hands were clutched tightly together, bodies molding together as they shared this moment. It didn’t take long for Aelin to reach that edge, not for Rowan either, and she clenched around him tightly as they both fell into the grips of pleasure. 

Her body shuddered with the pleasure racing through her, and when she came down she was panting. So was Rowan, breathing heavily into her neck. 

It took a few moments, but then he was pulling out of her carefully. She winced slightly, but dismissed his concerned look with a shake of her head.

He went to dispose of the condom, but came back quickly, collapsing back down by her side. 

Externally, she was exhausted, her body tired from the ordeal she’d never experienced before. Internally, she was panicking.

Was this going to change things? Would it be awkward now? How was she supposed to go on pretending this didn’t happen? Pretending that with every concerned look and gentle touch she didn’t fall in love with him even more?

But she relaxed when Rowan tugged her closer to him, tucking her body in close like they’d slept that fateful sleepover only a few months ago. 

And neither of them said anything before falling asleep.

-----

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[introvert--weeb]

Can I ask for a request for draken who has a crush on fem reader who’s the half baby sister of hakkai and yuzuha and she’s practically the princess of toman and no matter how many times he tries to approach her she’s always nervous (kinda like her brother) of being around him b/c she has a huge crush on him and she plans on confessing to him but she sees someone else confessing to him and she gets pretty sad and after that a rival gang notices she’s the princess of toman and decide to harass/hurt her and she ends up in the hospital, draken finds out and is pissed b/c of what happened and he ends up finding the guys who hurt her and he and the others beat the crap out of them after that he ends up confessing to her at the hospital and it ends in fluffy fluff:3

Hi anon! Thank you for the request! I really hope you enjoy it!!

--

Draken X f!reader (angst to fluff)

TW: mentions of injury, hospitalisation, violence

-

You could remember the moment you had fallen for the Vice President of Toman. Draken. He had instantly taken your heart and he was all you ever thought about these days.

Being the baby sister of Hakkai (although not fully), you were really close to the lanky male. In fact, you followed him like his much smaller shadow when he would attend Toman meetings. With how often you had turned up alongside the Second Division Vice Captain, you had been adopted as the Princess of Toman. Your cute looks and innocent persona had made everyone feel the need to keep you safe from harm.

Especially Draken. He would even kill a man if it meant you would be safe and happy. The poor boy had developed deep feelings for you, so deep that he would even claim it to be love. This had gone way past a simple infatuation.

To anyone with eyes, they could see how you both were obviously in love with the other but your interactions were awkward to say the least.

Just like your older brother, you had a hard time communicating with the opposite gender. Not so much with Mitsuya or Mikey but anyone else would be victim to your shyness. Stuttering and soft words were evident whenever someone had tried to talk to you apart from those you knew.

Over time, you had gotten better with your shyness with other members of Toman, becoming especially close to Angry (Souya) as you both seemed to be similar. The only person you couldn't talk a single syllable to was Draken.

Draken had tried multiple times to talk to you, to get to know you. But each attempt was met with failure. As soon as he would get close enough to start a conversation with you, you would become flustered. A deep blush took over your face and ears before you would run off to find Hakkai. Ken was confused as he had hardly gotten a simple 'hi' before you had disappeared.

You didn't mean to seem rude. You just felt like your heart would explode if you remained in his presence longer than a few seconds to a minute. He was just so cool and perfect that you had convinced yourself he was way out of your league. But maybe one day you would get the confidence to at least allow your feelings to be known to the tall blond.

That day had finally come. You had finally gathered enough confidence to confess your strong feelings for Ken Ryuguji. Yuzuha had helped you practice what you would say while she dolled you up. She had picked out a cute black skirt with a f/c shirt that went perfectly. Cute is what you thought when you had examined yourself in the body length mirror. Hopefully Draken would think so too.

After another run through with what you would say, Yuzuha handed you your small bag which contained your wallet and phone. You thanked her for all her help before heading to where you knew Draken and Mikey would be. After all, it was lunch time.

It didn't take you long to reach the café, your hands fiddling with the hem of your skirt as you approached nearer. This was it. You were finally going to tell him how you feel and you would find out if he felt the same. If he did, great...if he didn't, you would have to accept it.

Pushing the door open, you were frozen to the spot at the sight that greeted you. At the table where Draken and Mikey were sat, there was a girl who was talking to the vice president. Silently approaching closer, you had caught the words that tumbled out of her mouth.

"I really like you Ryuguji-kun! Please accept my confession!"

That's it. Your world crumbled around you. You were too late. Too naive to believe you were the only one who saw how amazing Draken was. And due to your shyness, you had missed out on telling him your feelings.

Your body had gone into auto pilot as you ran out of the café, tears falling rapidly down your cheeks. How could you be so stupid? Of course Draken wouldn't like someone as awkward as you! He needed someone who was strong and had enough confidence in themselves. Someone the complete opposite of you.

You had been wandering the streets aimlessly for an hour now. All your tears had been shed and you felt empty. You didn't want to head home yet. Not while you were still wallowing.

"Oh hey! It's Toman's princess!" A strange voice called out somewhere behind you. How did they know that nickname? Did everyone know you as this? That you would have to guess was the case as it wasn't long until you were surrounded by high school kids.

You didn't know what to do. You could try to fight but you only knew a little self defense. Thinking about it, you really should have asked Mitsuya or Mikey or even Hakkai to teach you how to fight.

Within moments, before you could truly react, the gang had descended upon you with kicks and punches, knocking the air from your lungs. You had tried to fight back, even succeeding in landing a punch or two on your opponents. However, it only angered them more and the beating intensified.

The gang had left you alone when you could barely stay awake. Your body lay battered on the concrete, bruises and broken bones making themselves known. Maybe it was your lack of energy or maybe it was the intensity of the pain, but your mind had shut itself down causing you to pass out.

The next Toman meeting was that night. Everyone had gathered together at the usual shrine, parking their bikes and engaging in conversations until Mikey would begin his announcements.

Draken was in a pretty foul mood that night. Having received that confession from that girl had really put him on edge. Of course he had rejected her feelings, knowing his heart belonged to Toman's princess. Speaking of Y/N, where was she?

Hakkai had pulled up at the shrine, his face showing just how devastated he felt. Always one to wear his heart on his sleeve after all. He was blaming himself for not being able to protect his baby sister from the fate she had encountered.

Noticing that the lanky boy was on his own, Draken went over to ask about where you were as you never missed a meeting. Hakkai just shook his head, mumbling that he had explained the situation to Taka-chan and Mikey already so he should ask them if he wanted to find out. It wasn't that Hakkai was being rude, he was just emotionally exhausted from having to explain it twice already.

Panic set in Ken's gut but he had no reason why. You were surely safe, right? After all, you would follow Hakkai everywhere and he would protect you with his last breath if needed.

It was during Mikey's announcements that Draken had found out about you being in hospital, placed under a medical coma to help your recovery. No-one knew when and if you would wake up. This news caused Ken's heart to drop to his stomach but also for immense rage to ignite in his chest. He would find the gang that had hurt his princess and make them pay.

Draken along with the rest of Toman had found the gang responsible for your condition within days of your hospitalisation. A huge brawl had occurred which lasted maybe 5 minutes at most. Draken had left no-one conscious, taking his anger out on the scum that dared harm what was his.

Everyone in Toman had decided to visit you once the brawl was over and you were properly avenged. Everyone simply watched as your chest rose and fell with each breath, the only indication you hadn't passed on yet. Draken felt his throat get clogged by the tears and sobs he was holding back. He was the tough vice president after all. He couldn't afford to look weak.

Weeks passed by with Ken spending his time at your bedside, waiting for any sign that you would wake up. He missed seeing your e/c eyes that he could stare into forever. He missed your cute giggles he would hear when you joked around with Angry. He missed you.

Unable to help himself, Draken allowed a few tears to escape past his eyes and roll down his cheek. "Please wake up Y/N. I love you, and I will tell you that everyday when you are back," and with those words, Ken leaned forward to gently brush his lips against yours.

Just like how it happened in fairy tales, your eye lids began to flutter open as Draken pulled back. The poor boy didn't notice you were awake until your hand (which he clutched tightly in his own) began to move slightly. In disbelief, Draken moved his teary gaze to your face where you were smiling back at him. Your cheeks had begun to heat up once you realised that your crush was holding your hand.

"YOU'RE AWAKE!" Ken was so loud that you had to shush him, your voice laced with giggles. Draken was just so happy that you were awake and looking OK that he pulled your face closer to his. Before you knew it, your lips were covered by another pair in a harsh but love filled kiss.

You must have died and gone to heaven, you convinced yourself. Due to that thought, you had the confidence to kiss back, even lifting your hand on his bicep. It was the best feeling you could ever hope to know. Heaven was surely amazing.

"I love you... I love you... I love you..." Draken muttered against your lips in between the soft pecks he was now leaving on you. He was so happy that you had kissed back, almost confirming you felt the same for the blond.

"I love you too..." Your breath came out as a long sigh, your voice dreamy and filled with all your feelings. Ken moved away from your face and relaxed back in the chair he occupied, a grin plastered on his face.

You were finally beginning to focus on where you were. Beeping machines, wires connected to your arm, the distinctive smell of disinfectants. You weren't in heaven after all. You were alive and in the hospital. It was only then that you had realised you had kissed your crush and told him you loved him too.

All the confidence you seemed to have evaporated in an instant. You were left a tomato red and stuttering so much that no words could come up. You had actually confessed and kissed Ken Ryuguji...

It was 2 weeks later when you were discharged from the hospital, accompanied by bandages around your ribs and your new boyfriend. "Make sure you're ready for our date tomorrow babe," Draken whispered in your ear, causing shivers to travel down your spine.

This boy was going to be the death of you.

[peachyyykid]

Deceivers Ch. 11 - Revenge

Word Count: 4089

Chapter 10 - Parting

Chapter 12 - Daytrip (nsfw)

Disclaimer! tw: y/n is having a panic attack

As someone who experienced panic attacks before, I realised that writing one invested me a lot emotionally. If a detailed description of a panic attack triggers you, you might want to skip that part. Also, everyone experiences them differently and coping mechanism differ as well. Just remember that all of these experiences are valid and that you are loved! :)

---

"Kid!"

You didn't question the urge to run into his arms, but you didn't expect him to catch you either. But he did, and as his non-metallic arm pulled you into his chest, you felt something you hadn't felt in a very long time: safety.

You clawed at his fur coat, muffling your sobs with the soft fabric.

"What did he do to you?", he whispered into your ear lowly, while his angry eyes never left Deku, who was scrambling around on the floor with his trousers undone.

"G-get off my ship, p-pirate scum", he stuttered, visibly scared of the huge pirate that just sent his door flying.

"I will", Kid snarled at him, "but you're joining us."

And with that he extended his metal arm by adding more and more random metal, grabbing Deku's throat. He tried to get away, but to no avail. Kid strengthened his grip and he let out a gargling sound, kicking his legs in the air.

The redhead spun Deku around and hurled him right through the empty doorframe towards his ship. Killer was waiting on the other side and knew exactly what to do. He caught the flying man (who was looking awfully pale) and slammed him down on the deck. You heard a faint scream in the distance, right after Deku's body hit the ship.

After making sure that Deku couldn't run away, Kid looked down at you, wiping away your tears with his rough fingers. He had let go of all the metal, but his eyes were still angry as he took in as much of your face as possible.

"Tell me what happened", he whispered in a commanding tone, and you sniffled before you spoke.

"W-we fought, and he said awful things to me, and then he tried to rape me and he... he had my parents killed. K-kid, he's responsible for all this. He killed my parents!"

You started sobbing desperately again and your knees felt weak. They gave in and you sunk towards the floor, but Kid picked you up. He pressed your trembling body against his and held you safely while he jumped aboard his own ship, the cold air cooling your tear-stained face.

Deku was trembling as well, but for different reasons. Killer was towering over him with his arms crossed and the rest of the crew was shooting him intense, blood-lusting glares. No one in this world would want to swap with him.

Kid landed and gently placed you on the deck. You slumped down to your knees immediately, staring into the distance with blurry eyes. The sun was setting already, painting the sky in beautiful red and orange hues. It would have been a wonderful start into a new life, but Deku took all that from you. Your body felt weak and lifeless, your arms hanging down your sides.

Kid kneeled down in front of your trembling frame and looked at Deku, who was sitting a few metres away from you. He was whimpering pathetically, looking for a possibility to flee, as if Killer would let him.

"Wire, take some men and ransack the ship. Then sink it", Kid commanded.

"Roger, Captain", Wire's calm voice answered, and he and most of the guys entered Deku's ship.

Then his face turned back to you. He gingerly took your jaw in his big hand and brushed your cheek with his thumb, just like he did in that one night.

"Look at me", his rough voice told you, and you obeyed.

Seeing your puffy eyes and your tear-stained face awakened something deep inside of him, and he wanted to destroy whatever was causing you this kind of pain. You looked at him like he was the only one who could make it all better, and he understood, his face absolutely serious.

"Angel. I want to hear it from you."

His amber eyes bored into yours. They were full of rage, but not because of you.

"Do you want me to kill him?"

Killing was wrong. No matter what kinds of horrible things someone had done, killing wasn't the answer. That's what a previous version of you would have said. But looking at Deku, you only saw a monster. A deceiving monster that had dared to take your life into his hands. You wanted to hurt him like he hurt you, he didn't deserve forgiveness.

Kid knew exactly that you couldn't do it yourself, so he had asked you if you wanted him to do it for you. And you really wanted it. There was not even a hint of compassion that you could spare for this man.

You looked at him, his eyes were pleading with you. Kid had asked you to make a decision. You could easily show mercy and say no. Deku mumbled apologies directed at you, rambling about how he shouldn't have overreacted and that he would treat you well as a mistress.

With empty eyes and the calmest expression on your face, you took in the satisfying sight of Deku shaking with fear.

"Yes."

It was merely a whisper, but everyone on the ship was silent. The only sound to be heard was Deku's pathetic whimpering. You didn't take your eyes off him, not even when Kid stood up slowly, revealing his full height again. The setting sun stretched his shadow, and it swallowed Deku's body whole.

Kid slipped off his coat and put it over your sunken shoulders without saying a word.

His shadow was coming closer to Deku with every heavy step he took, and he anxiously scrambled away from him, only to bump into Killer's legs. He was cornered between the two men, and he yelped in fear when Kid took the shiny knife out of his bandolier.

The knife fell, and Deku probably thought that Kid had dropped it by accident, because his eyes widened, and he opened his mouth when the knife didn't hit the ground. It hovered under his chin instead, the blade forcing him to look up at Kid.

"W-what kind of magic is that?", Deku screeched.

"It's a devil's fruit you moron", Killer mumbled and shook his head in dismay.

"I'm just making sure that you know who's the boss around here", Kid growled and pushed the blade a little further into Deku's skin, drawing a thin line of blood.

"I really wonder what she saw in you", he scoffed.

"P-please I will do anything... y-you can have the 15 million b-berry! You can have e-everything, just let me live!", Deku pleaded, trying to grab Kid's trousers. He looked up at him with doe eyes, in a futile attempt to gain his pity.

Kid bared his teeth and kicked off Deku's hands as if his futility was contagious, while an array of swords gathered behind his tall figure. They hovered in the air, framing Kid to make him look even more dangerous.

"You're not even worth listening to. Just by looking at your stupid face I can feel the wretchedness trying to rub off on me", Kid growled.

His signature smirk was back, and with a flick of his hand, all the sword's blades turned towards Deku. They made a clunking sound that filled the silent air and seeing their reflection in your glassy eyes gave Kid the final push.

With another flick of his hand, each and every of the swords sped towards Deku's trembling body, swallowing his cries for mercy.

He screamed in pain and desperately tried to protect his body, but there were just too many blades impaling him. They pinned him to the ground in an upright position, covering him in his own blood. His breathing became more and more shallow, and he looked at you with pain-filled eyes.

You watched the sight like in a trance. You felt inner peace for a split second, but then

nothing.

Nothing at all. It was gruesome to look at, but it didn't bother you the slightest.

With wheezing breaths, Deku's life ended in front of your eyes and your face didn't show any signs of remorse.

"Feed him to the fish", Kid growled and then blocked the space between you and Deku's body so you couldn't see him anymore.

You snapped out of your trance and realised what had just happened. It was good that you didn't see your ex-fiancé's dead body anymore because your stone-cold facade might have faltered.

Kid kneeled down in front of you again and you finally looked at his face. His frown was back, but his eyes were almost too soft for someone who just murdered a man without hesitation.

"Thank you", you mumbled flatly, but he didn't say anything.

"I'm going to take a bath", you added instead, sounding absent. Your body was there, but you felt like your soul was just hovering over it. The bath didn't actually matter, you just wanted to get away.

You tried to get up, but your legs were still too shaky. Kid was watching you for a few seconds, huffing at the fact that you couldn't take even a single step without tumbling over.

Suddenly, Kid flung you over his shoulders without a warning, ignoring your shriek.

He just scoffed and carried you to the cabin's bathroom, placing you in the empty bathtub. You raised an eyebrow at him when he sat down on the toilet, making no move to leave the room.

"I'm really thankful that you took revenge on my fiancé for me, but that doesn't mean you can watch me bath... naked...", you said quietly.

"There's no fiancé anymore. You're single and I saw your tits already", he smirked.

Although you couldn't deny that, it wasn't the best time to point it out and no excuse to creep on you in the bath.

"That's not the point."

"Then leave on your underwear, but I'm talking to you right here and now", he demanded with a growl, and you were too worn out to discuss and you knew that he wasn't really the patient type anyways.

Your gut didn't give you any warning signals either, so you just rolled your eyes and slipped of your shirt, shoes, and socks. The bra that Charlos had given you didn't cover anything and didn't give you any hold, so you had gotten rid of it immediately. Once your training had started, you made your own bra out of bandages from the infirmary, so this was what you were wearing at the moment.

Not ideal, but better than being naked.

You let the water run into the bathtub under Kid's watchful eyes, and when it was half full and after you put a nice foamy soap into it, you realised that you could have taken a bath later, after Kid was done talking to you. But it was too late for that now.

You watched the foam floating around on the surface for a second, thinking about the events of today with a frown.

"Where do you think you're going next?"

His question caught you of guard and you blinked some tears away that you couldn't really prevent from building up.

"I don't know. I need to see my brother."

What happened with Deku today absolutely destroyed your chance to be reunited with Tenmon and it became painfully clear to you right now.

"And where do you think you're staying until you find him?"

"I don't know", you said again.

He was quiet for a second and then displayed his signature smirk.

"If I promise you to help you find your brother, you will stay on the Victoria Punk as our doctor."

You shot him a sudden look and raised an eyebrow. Why did he offer you so much help out of the blue? Suspicion rose in you, and you narrowed your eyes.

He just scoffed in response.

"That's it, sweetheart. There's no catch. I will protect you until you find him, and you'll protect my crew in return."

You thought about his offer. If there was no catch, you could only win. And you had to be honest with yourself, there was no way you would even last a day in the New World on your own.

He held out his hand and you looked at it before you slowly put yours in his. Your hand was tiny compared to his, and you studied all the calluses and the roughness on them. It was obvious that he had worked hard with these hands, and it just added to the fascination that you already felt for him.

Suddenly, as soon as his hand enclosed yours, he pulled you towards him harshly. The water splashed against the edges of the tub and Kid's grip was strong around your hand. You let out a startled yelp and to your dismay, you felt your face redden.

His face was so close to yours now. It had become a familiar feeling to you, just like the smell of expensive rum, mint, and metal. He licked his lips and pulled you even closer. Your tits were pressed against his hard chest, and he placed his mouth next to your ear.

"We're gonna be a great team", he purred into your ear lowly, his breath tickling your neck.

You prayed that he didn't see that you had goosebumps all over your body. Your face felt so hot that you were sure you looked like a tomato and a tingling feeling spread from your chest to your stomach, to your crotch, and even into your thighs.

What the fuck is that?

Who were you kidding, you weren't stupid and not as innocent as Deku and your parents had wanted you to be. Just because you never experienced lust, didn't mean you wouldn't recognise the feeling if it ever came. You were sure that this was it, but why today and why with Kid?

He leaned back and your heart told you to pull him back, but the rational part of your brain interfered, so you just sat in the tub dumbfounded.

His smirk didn't falter, and something told you that he knew what an effect he just had on you. How embarrassing, you thought and slowly turned around, facing the wall.

He chuckled and finally left the room, and once the door was closed you took of the makeshift bra and let yourself slip under the water surface, mentally cursing yourself and Kid until you had to come up for air.

You stayed in the bathtub for as long as you could justify, to avoid Kid. You hoped that he was either not in his room, or already fast asleep. You dried yourself extra slowly and scolded yourself for not having asked Killer for another shirt.

You tried to put on the white button-down but as soon as the material touched your skin you had memories of Deku leaning over you and pinning you down flashing through your mind. You shuddered and bile rose up in your throat.

You looked at the shirt and felt new anger and sorrow in your heart. With gritted teeth and a frown, you pulled on the sleeves as hard as you could and ripped the shirts to shreds. Seeing the heap of white cotton pieces gave you a small feeling of victory. You couldn't let a dead Deku control you like that.

After putting the bandages around your chest again, you took a deep breath and slowly opened the door to the bedroom.

Kid's back was turned towards the room, and he was breathing steadily, probably meaning that he was sleeping. As quiet as possible, you made your way to his desk. There must have been a place where he stored his clothes, but the desk was really the only option in this room. Actually, thinking about it, you had never seen him with a shirt on.

You carefully pulled out one of the bigger drawers and to your surprise, you saw a few neatly folded shirts in there. All black.

I bet Killer folded these...

You grabbed the first one and couldn't resist taking it up to your face. It smelled as you expected: Fresh laundry and metal. It smelled comfortable.

You shook your head rapidly and slipped the shirt over your head. You looked absolutely lost in it, but it would do for sleeping.

On tiptoes, you neared the bed and slipped under the covers. You didn't feel the need to roll one of the blankets into a sausage anymore, and you looked at the ceiling wondering why. So many thoughts were ghosting around in your head...

Why do I trust him all of a sudden?

Just because he killed someone who did me wrong?

He didn't just do me wrong though, he literally had my parents killed.

But still, why would Kid kill him? There's no personal gain for him.

Why is he so keen on helping me lately?

What's in it for him?

Does he still hate me? He's still complicated, but it feels different.

He could have done unspeakable things to me the last week, but he didn't.

Don't even get me started on the other night... or today.

How he touched me. Like I'm precious.

I haven't felt precious in such a long time.

And why do I get butterflies when he touches me?

Why the fuck did I feel lust when he touched me tonight?

Oh my God, what on earth is wrong with me?

Your eyes widened almost comically when another thought hit you.

Do I like him?

You covered your face with your hands and tried not to scream into the quiet room. You gave yourself a small slap, but you couldn't deny that Kid was... interesting. He definitely was, but that didn't mean that you liked him.

Yes. Yes, that's the point. He's interesting, but that's it. It's just a very stressful time I'm going through. Of course I would feel fascinated by someone like him.

You sighed in content. You found an explanation that was fitting your narrative.

The mattress shifted abruptly, and your heart jumped, thinking that Kid was awake. But he had just turned around and his face seemed peaceful, the kind of peaceful look that one could only have while sleeping.

You couldn't turn your face away without studying his. You took in the sight of his sharp features and his fluffy, red hair. It fell on his forehead because it wasn't held up by his goggles, making him look a little younger. It was refreshing to see him without his furrowed brows.

You couldn't resist the urge to take a strand of his hair into your hand. You never touched it before, and it was just as soft as it looked.

It was also the first time that you could look at him without him noticing. There was no smirk, no angry eyes or frown.

He didn't look like a pirate anymore, just like a young man. He almost looked vulnerable, and you realised that he must have seen a lot. You wondered about his motivations to become a pirate and if all the things he had experienced left marks on him, inside and outside.

Like you said, he was fascinating.

You watched him breathing calmly, the blanket raising and lowering in a steady pace. It hit you like a brick.

"You saved me so many times", you whispered so quietly that he couldn't wake up from it.

You were right when you thought that killing Deku had no personal gain for him. He could have taken his ship and his belongings anyways, but he made sure that you decided Deku's fate and then acted accordingly.

It was a twisted sense of justice, but you had to admit that you didn't care.

It had been another hard day that left you absolutely drained. The knowledge about the circumstances of your parent's death scooched in between the thoughts about Kid and became prevalent.

You never got to say goodbye and they died without knowing what had happened to you. They never got the chance to see Deku's real face. You regretted not telling them about the conversation in the garden back then, maybe everything would be okay right now. Deku's words were ringing in your ears.

You chose to disrespect me that night, so I made you pay.

Yes, your parents wouldn't have backed out of the marriage deal. Deku had them wrapped around his fingers. He had buttered them up completely to make sure that anything you would say about him would fall on deaf ears.

You tried to steady your breathing when you felt hot tears forming in the corners of your eyes. The insufferable feeling of guilt washed over your whole body. Throughout your childhood you had learned how to speak to a future husband, and if you hadn't decided to throw all that courtesy stuff overboard at some point, your parents would still be alive. Of course, your life with Deku would have been horrible, but at least your family could have been happy.

Screw you for becoming your own person with your own wishes and morals.

Deep down you knew that it wasn't your fault, but the guilt felt so strong. It was crushing you, causing you to question every decision you ever made.

Suddenly, your heartbeat was picking up. It happened so rapidly that you were scared it would rip your chest open, so you clutched at your shirt and pressed your hand down. But feeling your speeding heartbeat like this made it even worse. It made your chest hurt like someone had punched you. It tightened and it was becoming gradually harder to breathe, a lump of suppressed tears forming in your throat. Your body felt hot, and you couldn't move, only shake. Your eyes darted around frantically and breathing felt more like choking. You wanted to get up, get fresh air or a glass of water to calm you down, but you were losing control over your body. Wheezing breaths mixed with the sound of quiet sobbing, while your vision blurred. Every cell in your body was screaming for help. You tried to get at least some air into your lungs, but it felt like they had shrivelled up.

You weren't in the right headspace to think anything of Kid opening his eyes suddenly, now looking at your shaking body while you still fought for air, your sobbing and whimpering filling the room. He let out a low growl and moved his hand towards you.

You tensed up immediately but surprisingly, his touch didn't scare you at all. As soon as he saw that you didn't flinch, he grabbed the small of your back and pulled you into his chest, enclosing your trembling body with both of his arms.

"Breathe with me", was all he said.

Your chest was flush against his and you could feel how he inhaled and exhaled slowly, in a steady pace. His heartbeat was calm, and you tried to concentrate on his breathing, mentally counting the intervals between each breath.

After a few more ragged breaths, your heartbeat synchronised with his and you followed his breathing pattern. You were still shaking a little, but the scariest part was overcome. Soon, the sobbing died down as well.

With each inhale and exhale you got calmer, and soon you felt like you were in control of your own body again. Hesitantly, you wrapped your arms around Kid's body as a silent thank you.

He stiffened but didn't push you away. He expected you to let go at some point, but you didn't. You didn't want to. You experienced the same feeling as earlier this evening when he held you after saving you from Deku. It was a comfortable feeling of absolute safety, like nothing in this world could do you any harm.

You wanted more of this feeling, so you kicked off your blanket and went under his instead, entangling your legs with his. He let out a breath he had been holding and snuck his other arm around your head to place his hand on it, brushing your hair with his thumb.

There was no empty space between the two of you, but at this very moment this was exactly what you needed. You forgot about all the pain and guilt in his embrace and enjoyed the comfortable feeling of warmth and safety.

It didn't take him long to fall asleep again, and you followed soon after.

Memories of the last week rushed through your mind and you realised that being here wasn't all that bad.

[heliotropehotch]

as it was - a.h. x fem!reader

Request by @greenprisca​: Hi can I request a Hotch x reader fic! The reader is always there for hotch and jack (took care of them even when Haley was alive), but they both snap at her. Telling her she’s not Haley/his mom. (Y/N) takes a break from them and goes out with a brother or family member that’s a single parent, and the boys see it wrong.

a/n: i contacted tumblr a couple of days ago about my tag issues but i haven’t heard back. boosting this fic, if you like it, could really help tumblr fix whatever issue it’s having with my accounts. its very frustrating, and is making me not wanna post right now, so i might take a bit of time off while i wait for this issue to fix, and while i wait for more requests! ilysm thank you for your support!

Masterlist

author: abby <3

words: 1667

warning: fighting, yelling, mention of past character death

It shouldn’t have happened the way it did. 

The collapse of a perfect world was triggered by a caring act. The end of a long day, the whisper of words turned to shouts, love turned into regret. 

Aaron Hotchner had come back to his home late that night, the smell of dinner flooding through to his nostrils. He smiled, a gesture he missed when he was away on case. He called for Y/N, a presence he had hoped to see. Instead of the giggles of his son and her that usually met his eyes, he was met with quiet, so he headed to his son’s room.

She was moving to close Jack’s bedroom door, having just gotten him to sleep. Her eyes were tired, holding a sadness he had not seen in a long time. He quirked his eyebrow, moving to speak. She shook her head, a finger going to her mouth as she motioned him into the living room.

“How was your day, hun?” she sighed, stirring the pot of food she had made. 

“It was work,” he took his suit jacket off, draping it over a chair before hugging her body from behind. “Did something happen today?”

“I think you’ll need to talk to Jack tomorrow. He yelled at me tonight,” she said sadly, head swimming with thoughts.

“He did what?” he asked concerned, he hadn’t seen his son angry before. 

“I was just trying to put him to bed, but I guess he was having a hard time,” she spoke, recalling the hour before. “So I started humming that song Haley used to sing to get him to sleep, Hey Jude.”

“What?” His body tensed around hers as she continued speaking. 

“I don’t know.” She remained oblivious to his actions. “I thought it would help, but he just got more upset. He shouted saying I wasn’t his mom and started crying. I just held him until he fell asleep.” 

He retracted his arms from around her, hands curling into fists. “You’re not.”

She paused her movements to the dining room to set out plates for the both of them. She asked confused, “What?”

“You’re not his mom,” Aaron’s voice rang stern, anger boiling behind his steely eyes. “You’re not Haley. 

Y/N took a step back, scared of the tone, the implication of the words not said pushing against his lips. “Aaron,” her voice was confused, hurt. “I know that.”

“Then stop trying to act like you are.” He pulled his tie off, chucking it across the couch. “What made you think it was a good idea to do that? Stop trying to be more than what you are.”

“And what exactly am I?” Her voice became louder, not caring about the way it echoed through the hall. 

“A distraction,” he bit out, jaw clenched. “Nothing more than a sound to fill the silence.”

She huffed out a teary, dark chuckle, looking away from the man she’d give up everything for. She grabbed her things, keys jingling as her adrenaline began to wear. “Well, thank you, Hotch,” she bit out, a sarcastic smile on her face. “For having the decency to let me know now. Dinner’s on the fucking stove.”

The silence that was there before her hung in the air as he watched her shut the door, as she watched her leave.

The next morning, Jack Hotchner woke up rubbing sleep out of his eyes, clutching a stuffed animal Y/N had given him for his birthday. He frowned as he saw his father making breakfast in the kitchen.

“Daddy?” he pressed the fuzzy elephant to his chest. “Where’s Y/N?”

Aaron sighed at his son’s confused voice, setting the spatula he was using for pancakes down. He tried to mask his own emotions with the excitement of seeing his son. “Good morning, Buddy! Y/N went home for a bit, she had some other things to do.”

“But I thought this was her home.” Jack’s small little eyebrows furrowed with more confusion. 

“It is,” Hotch knelt down to get on his son’s level. “She just needed some alone time, bud.”

Jack’s eyes began to well up, striking his father’s heart. “Is it my fault?”

Aaron felt his stomach drop with guilt. “Of course not Jack.”

“But I yelled at her.” His lip quivered. “I said she wasn’t mommy.”

“I know buddy-”

“But I don’t care!” Jack was sobbing into his dad’s shoulder now. “I love Y/N, daddy.”

Aaron pressed his distressed son into his chest, shushing his cries against his casual shirt. His own heart ached with regret and words he wanted to take back. He admitted the words he had yet to say, as if to give himself some comfort. “I love her too, Jack. She’ll be back soon, I promise.”

After Jack had calmed down, Hotch decided to spend his day off trying to ease both of their minds. He took Jack to the zoo, carefully avoiding the elephants, and spent what felt like hours staring at the waddling penguins. Jack insisted on getting Y/N an apology stuffed penguin. Then he promised a trip to the park with what Jack called the ‘cool jungle gym.’ 

Jack ran towards the swings as Hotch reclined back into one of the park benches. He smiled to himself momentarily, as he watched his once sad son giggle with the other kids. His grin fell though, as he realized she should be enjoying the day with them. 

He wasn’t sure if Y/N would wait for him, and he honestly didn’t blame her if she didn’t. He had put her through so much, after having cared for both him and Jack when Haley died, and long before she passed as well. He loved Y/N but she couldn’t be blamed for being hurt at the things he had said, and would never mean. 

His eyes glazed over the park, letting out a solemn sigh at the peacefulness that contrasted the interior of his heart. And then he saw her.

Her arms were wrapped around a man, one Hotch hadn’t remembered seeing before, although it felt familiar. Around her own legs, a boy, about Jack’s age, had clung himself to Y/N’s knees, looking up pleadingly. The sweet smile he thought was reserved for his family had worked its way across her face. He almost missed his own son bounding up to where he had planted himself on the bench. 

“Daddy?” Jack called out. “What are you looking at?”

“Hmm?” Hotch said distractingly.

“Who are those people with Y/N? Doesn’t she wanna hang out with us?” Aaron was too preoccupied, watching Y/N pressed a kiss to the man’s cheek. 

“Can I go say hi to her?” he pleaded, tugging on his dad’s hand. 

“Not now, Jack,” he sighed, pulling his now pouting son into his lap. “I think she might be busy, bud.”

Days had passed, without a word from Y/N. Aaron had picked up the phone hundreds of times at that point, wanting to say anything to bring her back into their lives. He had been relying on Jess for help taking care of Jack when he was at work, and had therefore endured a lecture he knew he deserved. 

He got in his car to drive home, sighing at the empty passenger seat next to him. His eyes landed on the stuffed penguin he had bought to please Jack. He sighed once more, knowing he had to do something. 

The front door of Y/N’s apartment was daunting, unfamiliar. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been to her place before, but Jack was right when he said their place was her home. She had basically moved in with them, so the varnish that covered the wooden door only seemed threatening of the barrier he had been putting up. He raised his fist, and knocked on the door. 

Her eyes widened at the distraught man in front of her, promptly turning into a frown with the recognition of Hotch. She moved to close the door again. 

“Y/N, please,” he begged, stoic expression long gone. “I’m sorry.”

“Aaron-”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. I hurt you, I know that. But I didn’t mean it.” She stood still, allowing him to speak, and he took a step closer to her, reaching for her hand. “I love you, Y/N. You were never a distraction, only a relief. There’s so much I couldn’t have done with you by our side. We both know you’re not Haley, but I like you better as you are, as someone who cares for my kid like her own, as someone who cares for me when I forget to do it myself.” 

Her hiccups of tears flooded the silence that came when he paused, his hand moving up to her cheek. “If I could take it all back, before I said those words, I would in an instant. Just as it was, just as you were. I just hope you still hold your love for me after what I’ve done.”

Her arms wrapped around his neck, pressing his nose into her neck as he breathed her in. She sighed, relieved to have one of the Hotchner’s back in her arms. “I love you, Aaron, even when you decide to act like a dick.”

He chuckled against her, squeezing her body against his before pulling back. Brushing away her tears again, he kissed her forehead, making a promise to himself that he wouldn’t let her go again. Her giggle, brought him out of his soft trance.

“Did you bring me a penguin?”

He smiled sheepishly, pressing the stuffed animal into her palm. “Jack got it as an apology gift to you.”

She pressed it against her chest, clutching it the same way his son had days before. “That’s one sweet kid you’ve got there.”’

“One who desperately wants to see you,” he chuckled again.

“Well,” she said, grabbing her purse and keys. “Let’s go home then.”

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Pay Attention

Dr. Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 4472

Part 2 of 2

Part One

Summary: With a new body, the team is sure that the reader’s attacker is the unsub they’re looking for. He, however, is looking for them too. 

Notes: Like the last part, this one is a dark one guys. This part will deal with more violence and the attacks. Feel free to skip. I really loved writing both of these. Let me know what you think!

Warnings: Trauma, gore, assault, mentions of rape and sexual assault. 

Find Reid and more crime drama imagines: HERE

-

He checked every corner of your apartment, leaving no throw pillow unturned. After that call, he wasn’t taking any chances. It wasn’t until he was sure it was clear that he let you through the door. You had your arms wrapped around yourself, hugging your sweater closer to your body. 

“Spence, come on. I feel ridiculous enough with the security detail standing out here.” You glanced at the agent beside you. “No offense, Agent Bradford.” 

“None taken.” He nodded with a kind smile. You stepped into your apartment and Spence immediately started making you some tea. 

“I can do that.” 

“I know.” He looked at you and his hazel eyes were distraught. “I just… I need to help. Please, just let me help.” He turned back to the stove to put the kettle on. His shoulders slouched forward and his whole frame seemed to cave in on itself. You took off your sweater and laid in on the back of the living room chair. Everything felt so hot and stuffy and suffocating. 

You pressed your cheek against Spencer’s back, wrapping your arms around his middle. Your chest and arms still ached and the bandages rubbed against his sweater vest. Spencer paused, resting his hands on top of yours. You could hear how fast his nervous heart was beating and held him a little tighter. 

“I’m okay, Spence.” You whispered, but even you thought it sounded unconvincing. You were scared and you were angry and you were guilt-ridden for causing him this much pain, but you definitely were not ‘okay’. He could feel it too. 

Spencer turned around, still keeping your arms around him. He tucked your head under his chin and enveloped you in his embrace, holding you as close as he could without hurting you. You held each other like that until you pushed away slightly. 

“Spencer?” Tears pricked the corners of your eyes and Spencer put a hand on your cheek, his eyes searching yours in panic. 

“What is it?” 

“Can you…” You felt so stupid, but you needed to feel something else. “Can you kiss me?” His brows knitted together in confusion. You looked down at your feet. “All I can think about is him and his hands and his lips and I-” You choked back more tears. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” He put his other hand up so he was cradling your face. He hesitated at first, worried that it would trigger memories of the attack. But when you gave him a small nod, he closed the space between you. 

Spencer’s lips were soft. He seemed overly cautious at first, but it only took a moment for him to confirm that you weren’t uncomfortable. His fingers slowly slipped back to tangle themselves in your hair. It wasn’t rough or needy. It was more to remind you that he was there. He was with you. 

You weren’t sure which one of you fell asleep first, but your couch was hardly big enough for both of you. You were pressed against his chest and he had his arms locked around you to keep you from rolling off. You listened to his heartbeat and he listened to your breathing, both lulling each of you to sleep. 

Until his phone rang. 

It woke you up first and Spencer still seemed fast asleep so you answered it. 

“Hello?” You whispered, slowly trying to slide off of your boyfriend so he wouldn’t wake up.

“Y/N?” It was Morgan.

“Yeah, Spence is asleep. Is everything okay?” 

“Not exactly. We found another body.” He sighed. “Looks like our guy.”

“He killed someone else?” You cried, putting your hand over your mouth to quiet the sound. “That’s not possible. He said he would stop as long as I went to Hotch. He said he would stop-”

“Woah woah woah, sweetheart, just calm down, okay?” Morgan instructed, softening his tone. “I need you to keep calm and put Reid on the phone, can you do that for me?” 

“I’m not a child Morgan.” You snapped bitterly. You didn’t mean to take out your frustration on him, but your blood was boiling. Your anger kept you from being afraid. 

“I know that.” He wasn’t defensive or irritated. Instead he seemed sympathetic. “Y/N, this isn’t your fault. This guy was never going to stop.” Morgan watched crime scene investigators swarm around him, his eyes landing on the new body. He had a gut feeling that had been gnawing at him since he got here and he hoped that he was wrong. 

“Who is it?” Spencer rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up. 

“Here, he’s awake now.” You handed him the phone and had to sit down. It was like he was there, his weight crushing your chest and making it impossible to breathe. 

“Reid, we’ve got another body.” 

“That’s not much of a cool down.” Reid pinched the bridge of his nose. This could be turning into a spree which meant that he would strike again soon. He turned so that he wasn’t facing you and tried to lower his voice so you wouldn’t hear. “Did the other crime scenes seem to fit Y/N’s attack?” 

“That’s the thing, Reid.” Morgan stared at the pale blue fabric hanging limply from Maddison Gusman’s body. “When we talked to the family of the last victim, they said only one thing was missing from her body. Her red jacket.” 

“The one Y/N saw in the van.” Spence winced. While making connections would help catch the man that did this, it wouldn’t make it easier for you. 

“There’s something else. About this body.”

“Is she missing something too?”

“No. It’s what she’s wearing.” Morgan watched them zip the body bag and grimaced. “Her shirt isn’t the right size. It’s too big.” 

“What does that have to do with-” He stopped, feeling his stomach drop. “You don’t think that…”

“Hotch said they never recovered Y/N’s shirt. Other victims had items of clothing that were missing. From the missing person’s report, the shirt on the body is not the shirt that Maddison Gusman was wearing according to her boss’ description.” 

Spencer was silent, trying to control himself so he didn’t scare you. 

“You okay, kid?”

“A murdered woman was found wearing my girlfriend’s shirt less than 24 hours after she was attacked by a serial killer. No, Morgan, I’m not okay.” He hissed. He flinched, hearing a sob escape your mouth despite your efforts to cover it. So much for control. “Do you need me to come in?” 

“No, you stay there. Prentiss and I will come to you to go over the details.” Hotch didn’t want either one of you stepping one foot out of that apartment. “And Reid?”

“Yeah?”

“If either of you need anything, I’m a phone call away.” Morgan wished that he could just take all of this away, but he couldn't. The best thing he could do was catch the bastard. The agents hung up and Morgan returned to the crime scene. 

“He made her wear my shirt?” You tried to stand up from the chair, but your legs were shaking. Spencer gently sat you back down and crouched in front of you. 

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. You weren’t supposed to hear that.” He put his hands on your legs, his fingers rubbing soothing circles. He looked at the floor. “Morgan and Prentiss will be here soon. They want to go over some of the details with me. They might want to talk to you too.” His hazel eyes searched yours with the same sadness you saw in them at the hospital. 

“Okay,” You said softly, twirling one of his mousy brown curls around your finger. You stared at it, your mind unable to escape your own guilt. “I really thought that if I did what he said, he would stop.” Spencer caught your hand in his, tangling your fingers together. 

“This man wants to feel powerful. He’s been neglected all his life and this is how he’s getting attention. He needs it.” 

“So he was never going to stop.” You nodded grimly. You should have seen that. You taught this kind of behavioural analysis, for god’s sake. “I gave him what he wanted for nothing.” You should have known better. 

“No,” Spencer said sternly. He pressed his forehead against yours, holding the back of your head in his hand. “It probably kept you alive. And to me that’s everything.” 

You stayed there for a while, breathing each other in and holding completely still. Suddenly, a gunshot ripped through the silence, followed by another. Spencer was up in a second, pistol in hand and slowly walking toward the door. 

“Spence,” You squeaked, getting up from the chair. 

“Stay there.” He instructed, listening carefully for any other sounds coming from outside the door. 

He slowly opened the front door, but his path was obstructed by Agent Bradford’s body. There was what appeared to be a stab wound in his side and two gunshot wounds in his chest. His gun was gone. Reid looked down the hall, finding the fire escape window open. 

“Spencer.” He heard you call out. Darting back into the room, he kept his gun at his hip. 

“It looks like he got out through the fire escape. Bradford is dead. We need to get out of here.” 

“I couldn’t agree more, Dr. Reid.” That familiar raspy voice sent a chill of panic up his spine. He spun around and found himself aiming his gun at you. The unsub was holding you in front of him with one arm latched around your stomach with crushing force and the other holding a gun to your temple. 

“Let her go.” Reid ordered, adjusting his weapon. The unsub just laughed. 

“I wouldn’t do that, Dr. Reid. We both know you aren’t  a very good shot and lovely Dr. Y/L/N here wouldn’t stand a chance if you missed. So why don’t you be a nice agent and put it down.” 

Spencer was frozen. He looked at your terrified face and back at the unsub’s smiling one. 

“Spence,” You cried, wincing as the unsub tightened his hold. Spencer held up his hands in surrender. 

“Okay, okay, just don’t hurt her.” He moved slowly, setting his gun on the floor and sliding it over. The unsub kicked it far out of reach.

“Alright, I just need everybody to calm down.” He leaned his face into your neck, inhaling the smell of your hair. He watched Spencer’s fists clench and grinned. “And do exactly as I say.”

-

Prentiss had been oddly quiet since the hospital. The elevator in your apartment building was getting repaired, so they had to climb the four flights in uncomfortable silence. Morgan gave her an inquiring look. 

“You feeling okay, Prentiss?” He asked. She seemed too lost in thought to hear him. “Prentiss?” 

“Hmm?” She saw his concerned look and sighed. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just been thinking about Y/N. What this guy did to her…”

“It’s rough stuff,” Morgan nodded solemnly. He remembered the sound of your voice over the phone. How scared and angry you were. “That’s why we’ve got to catch this guy before he gets to anybody else. And if anyone can figure out how to do that, it’s those two.” Prentiss smiled slightly.

“They are kind of a brainy power-couple, aren’t they?” They both laughed, finally reaching your floor. Her expression turned serious again. “You know, we always made plans to get a cup of coffee or lunch, but something always came up. You guys have all known her a lot longer than I have. She’s practically part of the team, and I hardly know anything about her other than she’s one of the youngest instructors at Quantico and a super genius when it comes to behavior.”

“And that she somehow got boy genius wrapped around her finger.” Morgan added, trying to lighten the mood a little. “But you should get to know her. She’s one of a kind.”

“I guess her and Reid were kind of made for each other.” 

Her nice sentiment was forgotten as soon as they emerged from the stairway. Both agents grabbed their weapons and trained them at the unmoving mass on the floor. They scanned every single detail of the hallway as they approached. 

“Is that…” Prentiss started grimly. 

“Agent Bradford.” Morgan confirmed. Your apartment door was cracked open, but it didn’t look like it had been broken into. The window at the end of the hall was fully open, leading to the fire escape. Morgan motioned towards it and Prentiss nodded. She slowly crept through the door while he looked outside, making sure it was clear before climbing out onto the fire escape. The platform had access to one other window. The glass was broken from the outside, shattered pieces littering the carpet of your bedroom. 

Prentiss opened the door, holstering her weapon once she checked the room. She looked at Morgan with a sickened expression. 

“You better come see this.” 

Morgan carefully climbed in, making sure not to disturb any evidence. He followed Prentiss out to the living room and felt his heart sink. Sprawled across the wall were words written in blood. 

“Pay Attention.” Derek read angrily. He wanted to put his fist through every bloody letter. “We took, what, ten minutes to get over here?” 

“He knows how to work fast, that’s for sure.” Prentiss scanned the room. She had to treat this like any other crime scene. She walked around while Morgan called Hotch to get some back up. 

The kitchen table had a chair pulled out and the beginnings of a pot of tea were left stranded on the counter. Scuff marks from the chair likely meant that it had been pushed away from the table quickly. The body in the hall had both gunshot wounds and a stab wound to the side. 

“So if I’m the unsub, I must have approached Bradford without him pulling his gun, so I look like I belong.” She made the motions as she spoke, trying to get into the killer’s head. “I know I can’t take him down without a fight, so I stab him in the side and grab his gun, shooting him twice in the chest.” 

“Reid and Y/N hear the shots, one of them stands up and scuffs the floor.” Morgan added, putting himself into the scene. “If I’m Reid, I’ve got the weapon. I’m going to go check out the sound and keep Y/N away from the door.” He walked across the room and stepped into the hallway. “I see Bradford’s body and the window open so I’m going to go back in and get Y/N the hell out of here.” 

“But Y/N had to have heard the glass break in the bedroom.” Prentiss pointed out. “But if I’m already at the front door, I’ve taken out the security, why don’t I just come that way? Why go out onto the fire escape and break in through the bedroom window?” Both agents were quiet for a moment, trying to get a clear view of the situation. Morgan spoke first. 

“Because you want to get to Y/N without confronting Reid. That way you can use her to control him.” 

“So I’ve got my gun on her and I make you slide yours over here.” Prentiss pointed to the abandoned pistol next to her foot. 

“And make me write that.” Morgan added, looking at the message on the wall. He looked around the room for any kind of clue Reid could have left. “Reid knew we were coming. He’d try and tell us something.” 

There, on the table beside the couch, was another spot of red. Morgan pointed to it and Prentiss grabbed a glove out of her pocket to pick it up. The paper had a red thumbprint next to a few scribbles of writing.

“They look like Y/N’s notes.” She held them up so Morgan could see them. 

“Look at that. She wrote these for her guest seminar at Georgetown three days ago.” He ran a hand down his face. “When Reid told us about the phone call he got from the unsub Reid said that he told him ‘He learned from the best.’” 

“You think he was talking about Dr. Y/L/N’s class?”

“Reid put this here for a reason. He wanted to make sure we saw it.” He took out his phone and dialed Garcia. “If we can find out who was in that class, we find Reid and Y/N.” 

-

You were both in cages. Yours sat adjacent to the one Spencer was in but your cage had a moldy, piece of cloth that could have been a blanket at one point in the corner. You made the connection and scrambled to the farthest corner away from it. 

“Oh god,” You put a hand over your mouth to cover the sound of your heavy breathing. Your mind started to go into a panic. You were going to die. This man was going to torture and kill you and then dump your body for other agents to find and study and dissect. A quiet groan broke you out of your thoughts. Spencer. He was going to kill Spencer. He turned over, eyes slowly opening. You reached your arm through the bars, desperate to touch him, to feel him just one more time. 

“Can you see anything?” He asked quietly, slowly crawling towards you. Other than the lights hanging over the cages, the room itself was pitch black. Judging from the echo, you knew you had to be in some kind of warehouse or workshop. 

“No, I can’t see anything. I can’t see anything.” Your breathing was picking up as the panic fully set in. Spencer finally reached you, grabbing your hand and putting it against his cheek. 

“You can see me.” His thumb gently rubbed the back of your hand. “Just look at me. Look at me, Y/N.” He was just able to get his hands through the bars and put them on your shoulders. “We’re going to be okay. The team will find us.”

“How, Spence?” You cried, the dark shade of hopelessness washing over you. “They don’t know anything about this monster and- and we don’t know where we are-”

“He was in your class.” 

“They don’t know that. How are they going to figure out who he is let alone where to find us?” 

“I showed it to them. It wasn’t much, but I know that Morgan and Prentiss will understand.” Through his hopeful tone you could still hear it. The fear. He was terrified. 

Spencer wasn’t tough like Morgan or cool and collected like Prentiss. He couldn’t turn off his emotions the way that Hotch could. The only thing keeping him from breaking down was you. Your hand fell from his cheek to his neck. He was wearing some kind of collar, a chain connecting him to something outside the cage. 

“Spence, we have to get that off of you.” As soon as you said it, he was yanked backyards, a choked cry escaping his mouth. The chain pulled him against the bars, his arms still reaching out for you as it crushed his windpipe. “Stop it!” You shrieked into the dark. “Leave him alone! Please! Stop it! Spencer!” 

The chain slackened and he fell to the floor, gasping painfully for air. 

“You’d be surprised at the amount of things you can make with elevator parts.” The unsub had appeared behind you, leaning his forehead against the bars of your cage with a smile spreading across his lips. “Fun, huh?” 

He dangled a key from his fingers, swinging it back and forth in front of you before he started to unlock your cell.  

“Leave… her… alone.” Spencer coughed, slowly making his way back towards you. 

“You know, whenever I brought one of those other girls here, they just screamed and screamed the whole time.” The man shook his head, entering your cage one step at a time, drawing out your panic. “But you aren’t going to do that, are you? You’re going to do exactly what I tell you to.” He pressed a button on the remote in his hand and Spencer was jerked back again. 

“Yes!” You blurted. “I’ll do whatever you want, just leave him alone.” You had your back pressed against the metal bars, putting as much distance between the two of you as you could. He beckoned you to step forward. 

“Show me my work.” 

“W-what?” 

“I’ve heard you teach, Dr. Y/L/N so don’t pretend to be stupid with me.” He snapped, his calm exterior cracking. He stepped towards you more aggressively but was able to regain control of himself. “Take off all those pesky bandages.” 

“P-please let us go.” You pleaded. He just held up the remote again, his finger hovering over the button. “Okay, okay.” You made sure your back was to Spencer before lifting your sweater over your head and slowly peeling the bandages off of your wounds. The letters were still an irritated red color against your skin and your usual bra felt more revealing than ever. He ran a hand down your arm, bringing your shirt up his nose to breathe in your scent. 

“D-don’t touch her.” Spencer cried, using the bars to pull himself up. The unsub just clicked his tongue, not even bothering to look at him. 

“You should have popped the question while you had the chance, Dr. Reid.” He smirked as your eyes widened. “Oh, didn’t I mention that?” He pulled a small rectangular box from his pocket. “I found this in lover-boy’s jacket pocket. Looks like he won’t be needing it after all.” He tossed it over his shoulder and grabbed you by the back of your neck, forcing your lips to his. His hands traced over the marks he’d left on you greedily. 

He was distracted and you took the opportunity to snatch the remote out of his pocket and threw it through the bars, listening to it smash into pieces under Spencer’s foot. The unsub shoved you backwards, the breath knocked out of you as you hit the ground. 

“You little bitch.” He spat, his hands moving down to his belt. “Pay attention, Dr. Reid. I’ll show you how your girl is meant to be treated.” 

“Put your hands up and don’t move!” Prentiss’ voice ordered, a team of agents bursting into the room. The unsub clenched his jaw and lifted up his arm, knife clenched in his hand. Prentiss pulled the trigger without hesitation. 

You didn’t even give them time to reach you. You reached into the dying man’s pocket and grabbed his keys. You pushed through the other agents and unlocked the door to Spencer’s cage and had the collar off of him as quickly as you could. He could see your body shaking as you moved and you were desperately trying not to break down. He wrapped his jacket around you and pulled you into his arms. 

“I’m okay.” He choked out. It was still hard to speak without his throat feeling like it was burning and now he had relieved tears welling in his eyes. “We’re okay. It’s over.” 

-

Sitting in the hospital felt strange. You had been cleared already, but Spencer was still in as they looked at the damage to his throat. You sat leaning forward with your elbows on your knees. In your hands was the small box you had yet to open. You had grabbed it before you and Spence were taken out to the ambulances, but you hadn’t brought yourself to look inside. 

“You, um… I guess you know what it is.” Spencer’s raspy voice startled you. You looked up and saw the dark bruises starting to form on his neck. “They said I’ll be okay, I just have to take it easy on the talking.” 

“That won’t be easy.” You laughed lightly. He sat beside you and stared at the box.

“Have you opened it yet?” Even in his strained whisper, you could hear the disappointment. This isn’t what he wanted and now he was afraid his chance was gone for good. You shook your head. 

“I thought we should do that together.” You took his hand and put it on the lid. He gave you a small smile and slowly flipped it open. Inside was a leaf. To someone else, it wouldn’t have made any sense, but seeing it brought tears to your eyes. “Is that…?”

“It’s the leaf that got caught in your hair the day we met. You walked into the BAU to assist us on a case and I grabbed it for you. I was just this weird, tall guy who pulled your hair so you gave me this strange look so I explained that there was a leaf in your hair. And then you smiled and I had never felt like I had right then before. There wasn’t a trash can or anything so I put the leaf in my pocket. I guess I’ve just held onto it ever since.” 

“Spencer, this is-” You were trying to find the words, but you couldn’t. 

“I was going to ask you last night when we were supposed to watch the movie.” He sighed. “It feels like a long time ago now, but I still feel the same way.” He shifted so that he was kneeling in front of you. “I always thought that if, by chance, I ever found someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, it would be because they make me feel normal. But you don’t make me feel normal.” He blinked back his own tears so he could say everything he needed to. “You make me feel like the best version of myself. And maybe it’s inappropriate after everything that has happened in these two days, but all of the pain we just went through just made me realize even more that I don’t want to spend one moment of my life without you. Dr. Y/N Y/L/N-”

“Yes.” You blurted, kneeling on the floor with him and taking his face in your hands. Spencer laughed. 

“You didn’t let me even ask.” 

“Right, sorry.” You brushed away the endless flow of tears that now fell down your cheeks. “Ask away, Dr. Reid.” 

“Will you marry me?” The smile on his face made your whole body light up. 

“Yes.” You crashed your lips into his, not caring if anyone was around to see. 

The team was down the hall, beaming at each other. Even though they couldn’t hear your words, it wasn’t hard to tell what just happened. Prentiss leaned over to Morgan. 

“I told you.” She grinned. “They’re made for each other.”

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks​

From last part (I think I got everyone, but don’t be offended if I missed you, I’m just bad at tag lists): @ takeyourleap-of-faith; @ squiggledrop; @ avidreider; @ lotties-journey-abroad; @ justfloatingthroughtime; @ bisexualwomanofcolour; @obsssedwithjustaboutanything; @jupiterdove; @ uhuhuh; @ walkingjunkdna; @ skullwithemotions; @ shigwhore; @ harry-hollands; @ cielo1984; @ slytherin-blogger; @eevee0722; @ spenceoffense; @ radtwinkie; @ absolutemarveltrash

[bcdwhcre]

Could you write an scenario where Levi's S/O was tortured and now has many nightmares about it? Like... they are sleeping together and she wakes up screaming or he hears her crying asleep and cuddles her or idk... I just think is this kind of angsty fluff that I adore! Also I love your writting ♡

“PTSD,” Levi x Reader

Running out of gifs, using the same ones. Bear with me

Summary: having ptsd and Levi trying his best to comfort you.

Warnings: ptsd, torture, nightmares, abuse

Levi x Fem!Reader

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Pain was all you felt. An intense amount of pain as you were bound down to the chair and left alone with your own tears and blood. You didn’t know why, you couldn’t come up with the reason why you were down here.

Maybe it was because of your fathers crimes. Everyone hated him and before he could pay for what he did, he vanished and left that burden onto you. The people who were practically hit men used you as bait, maybe you getting beaten and tortured would have your father running to your side but little did they know that your father hated you too.

All you could hear is the laughter from the men and your screams echoing off the walls, skin being pulled off and fingernails being broken along with a few other broken bones. You were beaten senseless on a daily basis, you were sure you were going to die in that basement until somehow— you barely escaped with your life.

Your broken bones ached, your skin on fire and your body so weak but your bare feet kept running until you had ran into a MP, soon after that, everything was history. You joined the Scouts, only because you felt your whole personality change into some machine and it convinced you to join and be able to protect yourself.

Levi had seeked interest in you right away, the scars that stayed on your skin noticeable and the pain you wore- he could tell you needed some comfort and he could tell you’ve been through hell and he related to you in someway and eventually it turned into a relationship that neither of you were expecting.

It had taken weeks for him to convince you to sleep in his bed but you didn’t want to be a burden, you didn’t want to wake him from your endless amount of nightmares that replayed in your head every night but a part of you thought maybe his company can make the nightmares go away.

So there you were, laid out on his bed, wearing his shirt and a pair of sweats while his arms were lazily wrapped around your body, spooning you and burying his face in the back of your neck while breathing in your scent.

Levi was completely over the moon with you, you were someone kind and amazing inside and out but he didn’t know the true story of your scars and he didn’t pressure you. All he would do is gently trace his fingertips over the scars that stained your skin, reminding you of your worth and beauty.

You sighed as he slept behind you and you hesitated, you didn’t want to fall asleep, you didn’t want to scare him away- it already took you months for you to be comfortable with him. It took you months for you to allow him to be affectionate and touch you, you couldn’t even let him hug you or touch your hand because it made you flinch and it made you believe he was going to hit you.

But he always remained patient, he stayed with you and gave you all the love you deserved to make you feel worthy of love and affection. He stayed by you until you were comfortable enough to let him in and the day you randomly pulled him in for a hug, you startled him. He stood there, wide eyes and hesitated before his arms were securely around your body- making you feel safe.

An hour went by of you staring at his bedroom wall, hearing his soft snores and feeling his breath tickle the back of your neck before you had finally gave in and fell asleep, hoping you’ll have a happy dream for once- maybe of Levi.

But that’s not what happened.

Your dreams were always the same, the echoing of laughter and screaming as chains were yanked and a whip was slapped onto your skin. The slashes on your back open and bleeding uncontrollably. The cuts on your dirty skin had looked infected and were painful, the broken fingernails on your fingertips throbbed and made you cry for hours but your broken ribs had prevented you from crying for too long.

The constant fear you felt, the look on the older mans face as he enjoyed torturing you and making sure you were in severe pain. You’ve even pleaded with them a few times for them to end your life and kill you. One man stared at you, laughing while pressing a knife to your neck and split some of your skin open as your blood leaked onto the blade.

“Hm, not yet sweetheart, I’m not done with you.” He licked his lips as he stared down at you and it just made you feel disgusting.

One day they even tried to touch you inappropriately, cutting your shirt off but another man had stepped in and said it was going too far yet you laid there bleeding out slowly, what is too far for them?

Your body shook in your sleep, soft mumbles escaping your lips until it had woken Levi up from how much you were shaking against him. His tired eyes had moved down to look at you and stroked your hair back from your face.

“Y/N?” He mumbled, firmly grabbing onto your arm and tried to rub it to somewhat wake you up but it wasn’t working.

You were deep in your slumber, deep in your nightmare that all the pain felt completely real as it ran through your body and a startled scream had left your parted lips, frightening Levi and suddenly you shot up in bed.

Your breathing was heavy, tears had soaked your cheeks and you had forgotten about being in his room until his soft hand had reached out and rested on your back, making you flinch and startle him again.

“Hey, it’s just me.” He said quietly, his sad eyes looking into yours and that’s when you started to unravel and break down before him.

Uncontrollable sobs had left your lips, burying your face into your hands and just cried as he rubbed your back and try to be of some comfort. He wasnt all that great at it but he loved you too much to have you sitting here feeling like this.

You couldn’t handle your emotions, you were embarrassed and humiliated that he’s seen you like this, you never wanted to open that part of your past up but it was still bothering you, it was still torturing you and you just can’t seem to shake the past off.

He hesitated, watching you but his heart had broke into pieces seeing how fragile you really are beneath the tough act you pull everyday at work. He sighed, reaching over to wrap his arms around your small frame and pull you into his chest.

You continued to cry, tears sliding down and hitting his chest which made his shirt a bit wet but he didn’t mind- he was giving you time and giving you a moment to let your emotions out.

“I’m here, no one is going to lay a finger on you again, alright?” He assured you, his fingers brushing through your messy hair and you started to calm down, the feeling of his arms securely around you made you feel safe.

You sucked in a deep breath, small hiccups leaving your lips as your sad tear filled eyes stared into his and everything just felt calm again. His presence and his company just made everything a little better, made you feel like you were truly okay.

“I’m sorry.. this is why I was afraid of sleeping in your room.” You admitted, your voice shaky and he shook his head.

“Don’t be ashamed, I still have nightmares from when I was a kid too. It happens.” He mumbled, tucking your hair back behind your ear and you leaned into his soft touches.

You had sat up on the bed, a random feeling of wanting him to know everything, wanting to show him everything. Sure he’s seen the scars on your arms, legs and the small ones on your face but he’s never seen the worse of it underneath your shirt. You looked like some sick voodoo doll- full of stitches and scars.

Your small hands had gripped the edge of your shirt, his eyes watching you and once you were brave enough to lift it up over your head, leaving you in just your bra- he couldn’t hold back the sound he made as his breath hitched in his throat. He’s thought he’s seen it all, he thought he’s seen bad things but this pretty much took the win.

His eyes began to water, he was never the type to show pure emotions but when it came to you and how important you were to him, he couldn’t help the pain he felt in his empty heart. It’s like he can feel all the pain you endured all those years ago in that empty cold basement.

He took his time, leaning over and brushing his fingertips over the patches of skin and the scars that were on your back as tears streamed down his face and he shook his head, feeling angry.

“I don’t even know what to say.. I’m speechless..” He finally spoke up, lost for words as he stared at your skin and you sighed.

“You don’t have to say anything. My past is always going to haunt me and you might as well know, I don’t want to hide anything from you.” You admitted, turning your head to look at him and he embraced you in another tight hug.

“You’re strong and you’re still beautiful.” He repeated, rubbing soft circles on your back and you buried your face into his shoulder, tears threatening to fall from your eyes again.

“You’re safe now.”

You couldn’t help the overwhelming pain you felt inside of your heart, it fluttered by his words but the reminder of your scars and being vulnerable enough to show him outweighed everything. You were terrified. Sure the guys who did this to you are locked away for good but you just felt scared all of the time. What if it happened again? It was constantly on your mind.

But Levi holding you in his arms as tight as he could without hurting you and the way his fingers danced on your skin to trace over your scars and remind you of his love for you, it made you feel safe. It made you fall even harder for him as you felt his lips press gentle kisses on your shoulder blade and even tilted his head to kiss your cheek.

You pulled back to look up at him in the dark, the moon shining the room bright enough to see his features and see the small smile on his face as he admired you and cupped your cheeks. It was hard for him to be this open and show this much emotion but you were worth everything to him, he risked being vulnerable and lovable for you.

“I know telling you about my past and being locked away tortured for weeks is horrible and probably made you think differently of me but..” You started to say but he was quick to cut you off.

“But nothing, why would I think differently of you? This just proves how strong I know you are. I’ll never think differently.” He mumbled, tracing his thumbs over your soft skin and your heart pounded inside of your chest.

You’ve never had someone like Levi, not one bit and having someone in front of you giving you everything you deserved and more was new but thrilling and it made you feel warm after being locked in a cold basement for what felt like years.

You were convinced after escaping that your life would never go back to normal or be normal, you never expected to find someone as loving and caring as him either but here he was, cradling you in the middle of the night making sure you felt okay and secure.

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Sorry for the lonnnnng wait. I actually enjoyed this one🥺

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