#They hate seeing it be broken down. They want it to be broken down. It's a very confusing mix. They hate being confused.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 38: Shattered

Summary: Things aren't okay. They never will be again.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7,743 words

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, PTSD, nightmares, POV changes, depression and anxiety, medical stuff, injuries, brief description of a possible death, language, mention of weight loss due to medical stuff, emotionally heavy chapter (again), slightly graphic imagery, illness, so much crying

A/N: I just want to make something very clear here since there's a scene in this chapter that might be interpreted this way, but 'mega is NOT suicidal. That's not something that's going to be in this fic, and neither is self-harm. It would have been well warned in advance if that was going to be something coming up in this fic. She's struggling a lot, but she's not suicidal, she's not going to become suicidal, nor will she self-harm even off screen. So don't worry. That's not what's happening. It won't be happening.

Okay, just wanted to make that clear. Enjoy the suffering!

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The scream slices through the silence seconds before chaos erupts. 

John is on his feet and out the door before Kyle is even fully awake. Simon is on his heels down the stairs, the two of them nearly colliding in their rush. His heart thuds in his chest as he sees your door open, the overhead light on. It’s bad. It must be bad if the overhead light is on. You hate the overhead light. 

He barrels in like a bull, ready to fight. The screaming has stopped, but it still rings in his ears. The fear, the panic. Something has happened. Someone got in. He should have made you take the room upstairs. He should have put a barrier between you and the door. That window. Someone could break that easily and grab you before they even noticed.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” 

The screaming has stopped, but gut-wrenching sobs have taken its place. He takes a moment to scan the room. Nothing is misplaced. The window isn’t broken, there’s no bodies, no one that shouldn’t be in there. 

“You’re okay.” Christine soothes you as you sob. “It was just a nightmare.” 

The bright fluorescent overhead light burns his eyes as he stands there, staring at the bed. Christine is right there, having beaten them across the living room, or perhaps she had already been in there, having heard you in your distress before they could. You're tucked in her arms, your face against her shoulder as she holds you. 

Nightmare. 

The safety and security the cottage promised has faded, leaving you at the mercy of the horrors your mind can conjure up in your sleep. Something twists deep in John’s stomach as he turns, motioning for the others to back up and give you some space. You won’t want them there, and things will only get worse if you notice them. 

His heart is still thudding in his chest as he stands there, the sharp sound of your scream still ringing in his ears despite his confirmation of your safety. The other three look just as startled as he feels, standing there tensely in the dark living room. He brings himself to move, turning his back on them for a moment to try and gather his thoughts as he flips on the lamp in the corner. It casts a warm light across the living room, far too warm for how he’s feeling. He’s trying not to panic, trying not to be sick on the floor from the worry. His heart is in his throat, trying to choke him. He’s trying so hard to be strong, not just for him, but for his pack, for you. 

He sinks down on one of the couches, rubbing a hand over his face. He had been so sure something had happened, that their safe little bubble had been breached and someone knew about their whereabouts. He had been so sure someone was trying to hurt you with a scream like that. 

Maybe someone was, but not in reality. 

What is it you dream about now? Your nightmares about your father and your traumatic presentation must seem like nothing now compared to what must haunt your mind. Do you dream of Graves and his torture? Do you dream of them leaving you behind? Do you dream of dying because of their failures? 

A hand settles on his shoulder, a body sinking onto the couch next to him. Arms are wrapping around him, easing him against a solid chest. 

He’s crying. 

He didn’t even realize the tears had started flowing. 

He can hear the reverberating voice in his head, yelling at him, telling him not to show such weakness in front of his pack, in front of his team. He’s supposed to be the strong one, he’s supposed to be the stable one keeping the pack afloat and steady. Yet here he is, breaking down in front of them. 

“It’s okay.” 

Kyle. 

His sweet Kyle. 

How he’s been neglecting his sweet beta, and yet, how willing Kyle still is to reach out and comfort him in such a time of visible distress. That’s what betas are supposed to do. Mediate and balance the emotions of the pack. How have they been coping with all of this? How have Kyle and Johnny been managing in such a time of disarray and upheaval? Have they been managing it? He doesn’t even know. He doesn’t even know the state of his pack, of the members of his team. 

What a failure he is. 

He lets himself lean against Kyle, something filling his chest as Kyle’s soft scent seeps into his senses. He’s projecting it, not just for John but also for the whole room. Johnny is crying too, soft sobs tearing from his chest as he sits on the other couch. Simon is on his knees in front of him, trying to get him calmed and breathing. 

They’ve been ignoring and denying each other for days, fraying the bonds further while trying so hard not to. The pain they’ve been causing in their emotional constipation and intentional neglect is almost worse than the pain caused by their infighting. At least fighting they were feeling something. At least fighting they weren’t cutting each other off so willingly. 

“We can’t do this anymore.” He says, his voice thick and shaky from his tears. “Cutting each other off. It’s not helping anything.” He doesn’t move from where he’s tucked against Kyle’s chest, letting the comfort wash over him for the first time in a week and a half. 

How he’s missed this. 

“It’s not doing any good for any of us.” Simon says, shifting onto the couch next to Johnny. 

“Especially not our omega.” Kyle says, voicing the thought flashing through all of their minds. 

“We may not be able to do much to help her right now, but we can focus on each other. That is something we can do.” John swallows thickly, his alpha starting to come back to life, his instincts aware again as he stares at Johnny and Simon. “Doing nothing isn’t good for any of us. We need to have something to focus on, something tangible we can do. Denying each other comfort isn’t going to help anyone.” 

“I full-heartedly agree.” 

John whips around, Christine standing in front of your closed door. He hadn’t even noticed her enter the room, hadn’t sensed her standing behind them. Johnny and Simon are the only two that don’t look startled, but they must have seen her come out from their position facing your door. 

“Sorry.” The corner of her lip twitches up in a smirk. “Thought you would have noticed.” 

John clears his throat. “How is she?” 

“Settled again.” Christine says, moving over to the chair. 

“How long has she been having nightmares?” Kyle asks. 

“Since that first day in the med center in Dallas.” She says, sinking into the chair. How heavy this must all be on her shoulders. “I’d almost call them more sleep hallucinations. Mostly of Graves. Seeing him in the room, being attacked by him.” 

“Is there anything that can be done to help?” John asks. 

“For these kinds of nightmares? Not really.” Christine folds her hands in her lap. “Her brain is trying to process what happened. Until she feels safe enough to truly begin working on processing the trauma, it’s likely the nightmares will continue.” 

“Is there anything we can do to help her feel safe?” Kyle says. 

Christine’s lips purse as she looks between the four of them. “I’m not sure any of you could do anything right now directly, at least. She’s not open to that yet. Working on your bonds with each other, though, could help her omega finally settle and allow her emotions to even out again. That can help her feel safer, remove that instability and the fear of losing control again.” 

All of them share looks, John and Simon staring at one another. They hadn’t even thought about that. Well, at least he hadn’t. Christine had told him months ago that omegas need their alpha when they distress, when their omega takes over. They can come back from it with the help of an alpha...their alpha. Without one, the chances of survival were slim. Yet here you are, trying to do it all on your own. Having to do it all on your own. 

That ache in his chest starts again as he stares at Simon. He sent Simon after you, he made Simon go through that process of seeing you in that state and scruffing you. He made Simon be the one to help you through that. He made Simon be there when you needed an alpha most because he couldn’t face the fact that he abandoned you, he left you behind like you were nothing but another faceless soldier. 

He wipes his face as the tears start falling again. He truly is a failure of an alpha. 

Despite Christine’s reassurances, John can’t help the automatic reaction to your screams. On his feet instantly, his heart pounding in his chest ready to fight bare handed whatever might be causing such a reaction. Whoever might be causing such a reaction. He can’t fight the demons in your head, though, and he’s always greeted by the sight of Christine by your side, comforting you as best she can. 

He wants to hate her, wants to be angry at her for taking his place, doing what he should be doing. His alpha scratches at his mind every time he sees her by your side, giving you comforts he should be giving, but it’s his fault. It’s his fault she’s the one there with you. It’s his fault you’re suffering so much. Those thoughts send his alpha crawling back into its cage with its tail between its legs. 

It doesn’t matter the time of day, whether it was a nap or the middle of the night, your screams have a pain throbbing deep in his chest. His heart is constantly racing, waiting for that rush of adrenaline at the sound of your terrified scream, at that rush of instinct to protect and fight. He’s not sure how much his heart can take. 

He might have a heart attack by the end of their stay at the cottage. 

That’s something he’s been trying not to think about. 

They can’t stay here forever, no matter how much he knows you’ll want to, how much the others will want to. Eventually they’ll begin to go stir-crazy, itching for something to do. They still have jobs, and Kate can only keep them off the radar for so long, and can only give so many excuses. Eventually they’ll have to go back. Eventually they’ll have to make that decision of what comes next. 

He’s going to delay that as much as he possibly can. 

They can’t go back while Shepherd is still out there. They can’t trust that anywhere is safe while he’s still skulking around, while he still has contacts that could put them all in danger. That could put you in danger. 

That’s not a risk he’s willing to take again. 

But what comes next? 

What will they decide to do? Can they go back, knowing what the inevitable will be? Can they take that risk of having to leave you again, put you through that constant fear and worry that they might not come back? What if they all leave again? Could you survive the fear that something might happen while they’re away again? Not to them, but to you? 

Could they leave you alone again? 

Those are thoughts for another day when they’re inevitably faced with the fact they have to return to society and their lives and jobs. 

They have time. 

He has to make sure you’re okay first. 

You’re not okay.

You’re so very far from okay. 

The bedside lamp is on, casting a golden glow around the room. 

There’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. 

It’s one of the rare times you’ve woken before you can react, before you can scream and alert everyone in the house that you’ve had a nightmare. They’ll all come running. All of them. 

You hate it. 

You hate the nightmares, you hate the fear, you hate the constant pain and worry and the constant knowledge that your pack is right there. They want to go back to how things were, they want things to go back to normal, but they can’t. They expect you to forgive them, to go back to loving them, but how can you after everything? 

They left you. 

They let this happen to you and they just want you to pretend like nothing happened. That’s what they would do. Go back to normal life after being tortured and forget it all happened because that’s what they do. 

You’re not them. 

You don’t want to be like them. 

Cold. Heartless. Uncaring. Unwilling to put anyone but themselves first. 

Fuck them. 

The only thing keeping you here is the fact you’re bonded to them. That, and you’re an omega. You’d get picked up off the street and brought right back here to your owner. Or, worse, you’d get picked up by someone looking for a cute little omega to add to their collection. 

Or worse. 

You’d get picked up by someone else. 

Graves. Shepherd. 

If you’re lucky, they’d kill you instantly. Leave your body on the front porch for the others to find. You won’t care anymore. You’ll be dead. 

You hastily wipe the tears from your cheeks, wiggling yourself back until you’re leaning against the headboard. Your shoulder doesn’t hurt quite as much anymore. It still throbs, still aches, still occasionally almost puts you on the floor when you try to reach over your head with it. Your throat is healing too. Soup isn’t quite as horrible as it was a few days ago. Solid food makes you ache, but at least you can get it down without feeling like you’re swallowing glass. 

You still haven’t spoken to them, though. 

You can hardly stand to look at them. 

Fuck them. 

Just the thought of them makes you want to scream. 

Dr. Keller says it's normal, being angry. ‘It’s all part of the process.’ The anger, the fear, the pain, the depression. It’s all normal. It’s all part of the process. It’s all necessary. You won’t get better holding it all in. You won’t get better numbing yourself. You won’t get better if you don’t allow yourself to feel everything. 

You hate it. 

Why should you have to go through all these feelings, all this pain? Why should you be the one suffering because of their decisions? It’s not fair. They should be suffering. They should be in pain. They should be the ones on the brink of insanity because of the fear and the pain and the suffering and their omega constantly screaming at them. 

It makes you want to scream. 

Screaming will only draw them in, force them closer. Screaming will alert them all, make them all come running. You don’t want any of them near. You don’t want to have to see them again. 

Fuck them. 

You let out a huff before wiggling back down the bed until your head hits the pillow. You won’t go back to sleep. You never do. At least you have the pain and exhaustion and tumultuous emotions and your very nature to excuse your constant naps, constant sleeping during the day. They don’t need to know you’re not sleeping at night. They won’t care. They don’t care. None of them do. 

Fuck. Them. 

You want your phone, you want something to keep you occupied. It’s probably lying somewhere on the side of the road shattered beyond repair. That, or it’s back in the barracks. The barracks. Fuck that place. You’ll rip your hair out strand by strand if you have to go back there. It’s not safe, it’s not happy. There’s nothing good about that place anymore. 

It’s just a place of pain. You might as well have been tortured by Phil there. 

You were tortured there. 

It wasn’t a physical torture, but a mental one. The entire experiment was just torture for you. No one thought of you, no one cared about you. 

Dr. Keller cares. 

It’s her job to care. 

Still, you can’t hate her entirely. She’s the only one that understands. She’s the only one that can help. She’s the only one that’s been helping. Not just now, but back then. She cared, she fought for you, she did her best with what she had. Sure, she made mistakes, but so did you. She’s the only one you can forgive. 

She’s the only one you want to forgive. 

Fuck the others. Fuck your pack. Fuck those fucking soldiers who were never going to care about anyone but themselves, who were never going to care about anything but their jobs and their duties and the good of the world. 

You should have been their world. 

They couldn’t put you first. They wouldn’t put you first. They didn’t want to put you first. 

They won’t change. They can’t change. There’s no hope for change. 

You’ll just go back to the way things were before and be forced to pretend everything's okay and that you’re happy and fine and content. Were you ever really content or were you just trying to make the best of the situation? Were you deluding yourself into believing you loved them and cared about them and that they loved you and cared about you to numb the fact you knew deep down that they never would, that they never could. Were you deluding yourself into thinking everything was fine and dandy to hide the constant pain from the knowledge that you would never come first? 

The pain begins to burn in your chest again. It’s hot like acid, rising in your chest to your throat, threatening to choke you. It’s a deep pain, one nestled right in against your soul. Tears leak out of your eyes again as you squeeze them shut, pushing your right hand against your chest in an attempt to get it to pass. 

You thought you were dying the first time. 

You could only be so lucky. 

The bond. 

It’s trying to break, trying to sever itself, trying to free you from the constant pain, but it can’t. 

Maybe because deep down you don’t want it to. Maybe deep down you want to forgive them and move past all of this. Maybe you want things to go back to normal, even if normal means pain and distress and fear. Maybe you want to believe them that they’re finally going to put you first. 

‘Maybe’ is only a doorway to disappointment and pain. 

Fuck yourself. 

Fuck your omega. 

Fuck your pack. 

Hell, fuck Dr. Keller for not fighting harder, for not doing more. 

Fuck Graves and his haunting of your nightmares.

Fuck Kate for choosing you.

Fuck Shepherd for creating the initiative in the first place to try and cover his own ass. 

Fuck them all. 

You tug the blanket higher around yourself, rolling onto your right side. 

Fuck. Them. All. 

You don’t want him here. 

He does it now, usually in the mornings. 

You hate it. 

You like it. It’s nice. He’s the only one making an effort. 

He never says anything, surprisingly enough. It’s silent as he sits there, steaming cup of coffee in hand. Always coffee, never tea. He won’t sink that low. He brings you a cup, but you can never bring yourself to touch it. You feel like a mental patient stuck in a straight jacket. You could free yourself, but that would bring too much awareness, too many questions, too much pain. 

You don’t want to. 

So instead you sit there in silence, staring out at the sea. It’s so far away still, yet it’s right there. You can hear it and smell it and see it. 

The sea. 

They brought you to the sea. 

John remembered. He did it for you. 

The thought has something stirring in your chest, and it’s not pain or anger. 

You hate it. 

Johnny leans back in the chair, his eyes on the horizon like yours. He sits there in that chair every chance he gets, usually in the mornings when Dr. Keller takes time for herself and leaves one of them watching you through the sliding glass door. You do feel guilty for forcing so much on Dr. Keller’s shoulders, yet you need her. 

You’re not ready for the others yet, no matter how loudly your omega screams at you. 

You don’t want them. 

Fuck, you desperately need them. 

Your eyelids flutter frantically as you try to keep the tears at bay. You can’t cry. You can’t let him know how close you are to breaking down. You can’t. 

You can’t reach out. 

You can’t take his hand. 

How desperately you want to. 

You nearly breathe a sigh of relief when the sliding door opens, Dr. Keller’s soft footsteps crossing the wood planks of the porch. 

“Ready to go inside now?” She asks, pressing the back of her hand against your cheek. You don’t say anything, don’t react, frozen in fear of everything coming tumbling out in front of Johnny. “You’re getting cold.” 

Johnny glances your way and you immediately turn to look at Dr. Keller, scared to look him in the face. That desperate hold you have on the gaping wound in your abdomen will open and your guts will come spilling out like some gory scene in a horror movie. 

Disembowelment thanks to your own weakness. 

Dr. Keller holds the crutch out for you as you push yourself to stand. Your legs are strong enough you could probably walk without it, but it’s still nice to have it in case you get tired. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

It’s the weakness from your liquid diet over the past week and a half. The weakness of being unable to eat solid foods, to properly nourish. You’ve lost weight, your clothes hanging from your body in a way they never did before. You’ve lost the softness that marks you as an omega, but it feels fitting. You don’t feel like an omega anymore. 

You don’t feel like anything anymore. 

You’re fighting your instincts out of pain and suffering and stubbornness. You keep taping your omega’s mouth shut despite how loudly she screams at you. You don’t want your instincts. You don’t want that need. Eventually it has to go away. Eventually it has to recede and your omega has to go back into her cage and sleep. Eventually you can numb yourself to it and force it away forever. 

That will certainly make things easier. 

But will it make things better? 

No. Probably not. 

It’ll make things worse. 

But if it allows you to keep your distance, allows you to avoid them, you’ll risk it. You’d take numbness over anything right now. 

How you miss those long days of depression while they were away. How you took those days for granted. 

Who knew those hours spent worrying about them and their distance and what might happen to them would be for nothing? 

What you wouldn’t give for all of them to disappear right now. 

How badly it would destroy you. 

“She’s at war with herself. That instinctual need is screaming at her, but that emotional pain is keeping her shut away. If anyone is going to get through to her, it will probably be you.” 

“I can’t do that.” 

“Can’t or won’t?” 

Simon clenches his jaw as he stares at Christine. As much as he wants to hate the doctor and her ability to see straight through him, he can’t deny how necessary her presence has been. She’s the only one you tolerate, the only one you’ll let close. Without her you’d probably be rotting in bed, stuck and unable to do anything out of stubbornness. You won’t let them close, yet you need them close. 

You’re going to rip yourself in half, metaphorically and possibly even literally. 

He shakes that mental image from his mind. The horrifying images his mind has conjured up over the last few days have his stomach churning. Even his tea no longer looks appetizing. 

He put milk in it this time. Almost how he likes it. Almost how he wants it. 

“Johnny’s the one actually trying.” Simon says, staring across at her. She doesn’t shy from his gaze, doesn't even flinch. “You should talk to him.” 

“While I agree, reintroducing a beta from the pack is the first step, eventually she’s going to need an alpha.” Christine says. 

“She needs her alpha.” He argues. 

“She doesn’t want her alpha.” Christine counters. “He’s going to be the last she lets close, but she’s going to need some kind of stability.” 

“I can’t give her that.” 

“Can’t or won’t?” 

Simon clenches his hand around his mug, his knuckles going white. She’s infuriating, yet he can’t be mad at her. Not completely. The good she’s doing for you, for the pack, far outweighs his annoyance with the doctor. She’s right. He knows it deep down, but he can’t. He can’t do that, he can’t put you through that. He’s already done enough. He did his part, he faced his fears, he saved your life. That’s enough for him. It’s up to John now. 

John has to do the work to fix it. He broke it, it’s no one else’s job to fix it. 

“Maybe both.” Simon finally says, pushing himself up to stand. “It’s not my job to fix this.” 

He leaves his mug behind as he stalks out of the kitchen, heading for the front door. He can’t stand being in the house any longer, cooped up with the same five people. Four people and a ghost. 

He shakes his head, jogging down the steps into the gravel. He should go for a jog. A long jog. He could jog to town and back. That will clear his head. 

That’s a long jog.

If something happens while he’s away, he won’t get back in time. It’ll be his fault because he took the time to do something selfish. He can picture it, coming back to find five bodies laying in pools of blood, dead because he wasn’t there to help, because he wasn’t there to fight. 

It’s a ridiculous thought. There’s three other highly trained soldiers in the house. If anyone tried anything, they wouldn’t make it past the door. He can see it now, Price’s alpha coming out in a rage because someone dared try to enter and hurt his vulnerable omega. He’d probably win in a fight ten to one if that happened, and he has Kyle and Johnny to back him up. Christine would take you and run the first chance she could. She wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Not again. 

Still, he can’t shake that fear. If he can’t sprint back, then it's too far. If it will leave the pack too vulnerable, he can’t. 

To the beach and back, then. 

She’s like an angel. 

The soft sunlight streaming through the clouds makes her glow. You wouldn’t be surprised if the sun was shining just for her, sending down a beam just to illuminate just how ethereal she is. 

The Garrick beauty is genetic. 

Kyle is beautiful in terms of a man. He shares the same ethereal glow as his sister, but Ashley? You don’t feel worthy of looking upon her. 

“Kyle never mentioned an omega, but then again, he never says much about his job.” She gives another dazzling smile, your heart rate picking up just slightly. “Can’t, I should say. You haven’t been with them long, huh.” 

“About nine months.” You say, your voice still a bit hoarse. It’s not quite healed yet. It might be that way forever. 

“Such a short amount of time to go through so much.” She says, giving you a soft, sympathetic look. You don’t know how much she knows, though it’s still fairly obvious you’ve been through hell. That you’re still going through hell. “Christine told me a bit about what happened. I don’t blame you one bit for being upset at them. I would have left them, but I know. In a perfect world, right?” 

You make a quiet sound. Indeed in a perfect world where omegas have rights and can make their own decisions and could leave and have support in doing so. You’d leave with Dr. Keller or even Ashley, even though you’ve only known her for ten minutes. She has the same magnetic energy as Kyle, so much so you don’t mind the way the scent blockers burn your nose. She probably smells like something warm and soft, something comforting. 

“So, tell me about yourself. What do you like to do?” She says, settling in the chair. It’s cool outside, but she doesn’t seem bothered by it one bit. 

You scramble for something, anything. What is it you like to do? What are your hobbies? You’re drawing a blank, your mind searching through its filing cabinets to find where you shoved all the things you like to do. 

“I like to read.” You finally say, remembering the stack of untouched books on the dresser across from the bed. 

“Oh? What do you like to read?” She asks. 

What do you like to read? What is a genre? What are books? 

“Oh, I read anything, as long as it’s interesting.” Is that the truth? You’re not quite sure. 

“I see, I see. Well, there’s quite the collection on those shelves inside. I’m a reader too. Read through those entire shelves over the years.” She grins at you. “We could do a little book club, if you’d like. Read some books and talk about them over some tea. We could get Christine in on it too. Have a little thing just for us girls.” 

You nod, staring at her in awe. This is the first time someone outside of your little circle has offered to do anything with you, for you. 

You want to do it. 

You want to spend time with someone who isn’t your pack, who isn’t Dr. Keller. 

“Okay.” You say, still staring at her in awe. 

“I could come over on the weekends, or we could do a call if you’re not up to seeing anyone.” She continues, and you’re not sure if she made this plan before she came, or if she’s coming up with it on the spot. Regardless, you're still impressed by her and her dedication to a complete stranger. 

“Would...would that be too much?” You ask, your brain starting to wake up again, the wires connecting once more. 

“Not at all.” She shakes her head. “I live and work in Exeter, so I’m not too terribly far away.” 

You’re not sure where Exeter is off the top of your head. Your mental map isn’t even sure how far away London is...or even where you are on a map of England. Are you even in England right now? 

“What do you do for work?” You ask, realizing you’ve been silent for an awkward amount of time. 

“I’m a finance lawyer.” She says. “Mum used to say ‘you love to argue so much, you should become a lawyer.’” She laughs. “So I did.” 

“You must make a lot of money.” You say. You don’t know how much lawyers make in England relative to the US. 

“I make enough to be comfortable.” She says. Enough to travel back and forth every weekend. “Seriously, though, if you need or want anything, let me know. I’m more than happy to come sit with you and give you a break from those stinky men.” 

You’re not quite sure what happens to your face. It contorts, muscles shaking off the dust and starting to move before you even realize it. Your lips are tilting upwards instead of downwards. Something is happening. Something that feels good, something that you’ve been missing. 

You’re smiling. 

You’re smiling. You haven’t smiled in a long time. Weeks. Not since the cameras. Not since your pack left. You haven’t felt like smiling in so long you’re certain you forgot how to. But yet, here you are, smiling at Ashley. It’s not a genuine smile, one that crinkles your eyes and shows joy, but it’s a smile. It almost hurts your face after so long. 

She’s funny too. 

Stinky men. 

They are that. 

Your smile falls as soon as the sliding glass door opens, your head whipping around to look. Ashley turns to look too, perhaps out of instinct at your sudden movement. 

You’re half expecting it to be one of the guys, maybe Kyle out to ruin the moment, but it’s only Dr. Keller. 

“How are things going?” She asks, stepping up beside you. 

“Good.” Ashley says. “We’re planning a book club.” 

“Oh?” Dr. Keller raises a brow, looking between you. “I think that would be fantastic.” 

“You’re welcome to join in if you’d like,” Ashley says, giving Dr. Keller a smile. 

You stare up at Dr. Keller, watching the way her lips turn up a smile, her eyes shining with...something. Her hands open and close, tugging at her pants almost nervously. Your brows raise as you look back up at her face. She almost looks...flustered. 

Oh. 

Another grin forms on your face as you stare between them, Ashley still smiling and Dr. Keller still looking a bit flustered. 

Oh. 

“You could join us if you want.” You say slowly, still looking up at Dr. Keller. 

She seems to snap out of her daze, her gaze darting down to you. She gives you a soft smile, back to her composed, professional self. “If that’s what you’d like.” 

You nod. Even though you see her constantly every day, you’re not tired of her existence yet. She’s the only one whose existence in the house doesn’t make you want to gouge your eyes out, the only one you want to talk to, to see, to have around. If you had the choice, you’d be here alone with her. 

That’s not possible. You know it’s not. 

“A thing for just us girls.” Ashley says. “On the weekends. No pressure whatsoever.” 

“I think that would be fantastic.” Dr. Keller says. “A nice little distraction.” 

“A nice break from those stinky men.” You say. 

Both Dr. Keller and Ashley erupt in laughter. 

Another smile tugs at your lips. 

You don’t want to be here. You can feel him staring at you from behind. He hasn’t moved since Dr. Keller left, still just standing there like he’s not sure he can approach you or not. You hope he doesn’t. You want him to. 

You don’t say anything, still staring out at the ocean, but you can see him reflected in the glass, obscuring your view of the horizon. Hatred burns inside of you as you have no choice but to stare at him, even when you’re trying not to. He’s like a ghost, always haunting you. He always will be. 

“I didn’t want to try to rush into this.” He finally says, knowing you’re not going to say anything. You won’t greet him, welcome him into your space. It already feels like an intrusion into your safety, him being here. 

Is this becoming a safe space? A nest? No, not that far. It’s becoming sacred to you, though, and having him in it without invitation feels wrong. It makes you uncomfortable. 

You hate it. 

“But I just wanted you to know that we’re all feeling the weight of what we did, I’m feeling the weight of what I decided to do. We all feel guilty for putting you through that, for forcing you to endure things you never should have.” 

He swallows thickly, falling silent for a moment. You almost feel like laughing at his attempt at an apology, another attempt at an apology. Why is he even bothering? He knows you won’t forgive him. He’s probably doing it for himself again, to make himself feel better. 

“I know it’s not an ideal situation, being forced in such a small space together, but we all wanted you to know that you’re the one setting the boundaries. If you don’t want us to be somewhere or do something, then you can tell us, or have Christine tell us. If you don’t want to see us at all, we can make our best attempts at that.” 

“That would be ideal.” You say, breaking the silence you’ve held for days. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him since the hospital, since his first sad attempt at an apology. 

It shocks him to stillness and silence. 

The words hurt, burning your throat like acid as you stare at his reflection in the glass. You hate it, how pathetic he looks standing there. Where’s the big, tough alpha? Where’s the strong protector? Where’s the person that’s supposed to take care of you and care about you? 

He never existed. 

He left you behind. 

He never cared. 

Anger begins to bubble within you. 

“I’m sorry.” He says, his voice shaking. “I never meant for this to happen-”

“You think your sad attempts at apologies are going to work?” You hiss at him through your teeth. You push yourself to stand, turning to face him. “You left me. You fucking left me there knowing full well what was going to happen!” You’re shouting now. All the quiet movements on the other side of the wall in the main area stop. 

They’re all listening. 

It’s not like you’re giving them much of a choice not to. 

Fuck them.

“I know,” He says, his eyes wide as he stares at you. 

“Do you? Do you know?” Your voice is wavering, your throat starting to ache but you can’t stop. Not now. It’s all coming out and there’s no stopping it. “You. Left. Me. You willingly turned your back on me time and time again even when I was being tortured! You leaving was torture enough and you still chose me second. I’ve always been second. I’ve never mattered enough for you to even question anything!” 

You let out a sob, the sound cracking in your throat. It hurts, but it will always hurt. You’ll always carry this hurt with you, so you want him to hurt too. 

“I asked you once if you would ever leave for me. You said if things got dangerous, if my life were ever at risk because of you, you’d leave in a heartbeat.” The tears are falling, streaming down your face. “Was that a lie?” 

He doesn’t say anything. He just stands there, staring at you. Does he even remember that conversation? 

“Was that a lie?” You shout, making him jump. 

His eyes drop to the floor, his scent souring. Good, you think. Let it hurt. 

“Answer me.” You say, pushing him to give some response to your question. You need to know. You need him to say it. 

“I didn’t intend for it to be.” He says quietly. 

“You didn’t intend for it to be.” You say, bitterness coating your tone. “What the fuck does that mean? You said you wouldn’t let me go even if the initiative failed. Was that a lie too? Was it all a lie to keep me happy and complacent? ‘The job always comes first,’ even when my life is in danger, right? The job always comes first over everything, even me. You lied to me.” You swallow the sob threatening to come up. “I want to hear you say it.” 

He stands there, tears brimming in his eyes. He hasn’t moved hardly a muscle, still frozen like a statue. 

“Say it!” You scream at him, your throat tearing around the words. You’re surprised you’re not tasting blood yet from how raw it feels. 

“I lied.” He says, swallowing thickly. “I lied to you and I couldn’t keep my promise. And I’m sorry-” 

“Don’t apologize.” You cut him off starting to pace as the anger burns hot in you. “Don’t you fucking apologize to me, you don’t deserve to apologize. You don’t deserve the chance at forgiveness. You’re a shitty alpha and you always have been!” 

You let out a sob, wiping at the tears streaming down your face. There’s a tear sliding down his cheek, and it brings you some sort of relief deep down. So he can feel things after all. 

“I don’t know what I expected, though.” You let out a sardonic laugh. “You military men are all the same. It’s always about the job and the image and the ‘greater good’ and making sacrifices, even if that means sacrificing your pack. You’re just like my dad. You never wanted an omega, you never wanted me. You cast me out and let me suffer when I needed you most.” 

The anger burns hot in you again, shooting through your veins until it’s choking you as you stare at him standing there pathetically. He thought he could apologize, he thought his groveling would mean anything to you. Fuck him. Fuck them all. 

“You left me.” You grit out, your hands starting to shake. “You left me! You abandoned me, you let me get hurt! You didn’t care, you never cared about me!” You storm over to him. “Fuck you!” You scream, hitting his chest. “I fucking hate you!” You shove him back, sending him stumbling. “Get out!” You shove him again, pushing him back towards the door. “Get out! I never want to see you again!” 

He stumbles back out of the door and you slam it in his face so hard it shakes on its hinges. You click the lock as you sob in pain, pain both physical and emotional. Your chest aches, a tearing feeling burning through it. 

The bond. 

You don’t care. You don’t give a fuck anymore. You hate him, you hate them all. 

The tears and sobs threaten to choke you but you don’t care. You don’t care anymore. You don’t care about anything anymore except the anger burning hot through you, making your hands shake. Your legs give out and you slide to the floor against the door, sliding until you’re laying down on your back on the hardwood. It’s cold against your skin but you don’t care. You can’t care anymore. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Her hand presses against your forehead, wiping some of the sweat beading on your skin. Despite your shivers, you’re burning hot. A fever. You worked yourself up too much earlier in your outburst. She had been proud of you for finally releasing some of it and showing some emotion, but she knew the consequences of getting so worked up would be high. Your omega is still unstable, on top of still trying to physically recover. You hurt yourself doing that, even if it was necessary. 

She shushes you as you whine, fingers grasping at the blanket clumsily. She pulls it higher over you, your body shuddering underneath the pile already stacked on top of you. She’d put every blanket she could find over you, and yet you still shiver. Worry floods her again as she stares down at you, your eyes pinched closed. You must be aching, your show of anger taking its toll. 

It was necessary, but at what cost? 

If your temperature continues to spike, the risk of distress heightens. You can’t handle distress in your current state, which would mean your omega would come out, finally be freed again from the unprotected cage it's been pushed back into. If your omega comes out, that will require John to help, which may only drive you further into distress. 

She needs to try and stop this before the situation continues to deteriorate. 

But how? 

How can she move you past this without the help of your pack? She can’t give you the comfort you need. Medicine or any therapeutic methods can help solve the issue at its core. Sure she can try and lower your fever with medicine, but you need your pack. You need that comfort and stability that only they can offer. 

You need someone, and it can’t be her. 

If your omega comes back out, they might never be able to get it back in. It’ll be the end of you. All of your recovery, the fight you’ve put up against your body and your instincts and your mind will have been for nothing. 

You need someone. 

An idea begins to form in her head, her hand resting against your forehead. It’s hot under her hand, your skin burning. You might hate her later for this. It’s risky, but sometimes risks have to be taken in dire situations. Sometimes those risks pan out in the end. What will happen if it fails? The inevitable that’s going to happen if she doesn’t try. It’s a lose-lose situation, but if it works, it could be a win-win. 

She can’t help you, but maybe she has someone who can. 

She tucks the blankets around you, cocooning you in an attempt to keep you warm and still while she steps away. She won’t be gone long.  

She leaves your door cracked open just in case, even though she doubts you’ll be moving much while she’s away. 

Just in case. 

One can never be too careful. 

She heads up the stairs quietly, going slow to avoid startling any of them. She’s intruding on the safe space they’ve made in their solitude. It feels like invading sacred grounds, but it's a necessary invasion. Their omega is in danger. They’ll forgive her. 

The bathroom door is closed at the end of the short hallway, a light on inside. The lights are on in both rooms too, glowing beneath both doors, and she takes a gamble. Based on the heaviness of the footsteps above the kitchen she can guess the room on the right is the one Simon and Johnny are staying in. If she’s wrong, she’ll have some explaining to do before she’s ready, and she knows John will have his thoughts about this. Though, with what happened earlier, perhaps he’ll agree. You won’t see him, but maybe...just maybe... 

She lets out a deep breath before knocking firmly, waiting a breath before she calls out.  

“Johnny, I need your help.”

She just hopes you don’t hate her too much later. 

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[hoshifighting]

heyy there!!

I was wondering if you could write a fiction where the svt members give a silent treatment to the reader but she is too sensitive and starts crying (because she thinks she doesn't deserve them)

Please feel free to reject it if ur uncomfortable 😚😚

seventeen reaction when you start to cry when they give you a silent treatment

a/n: guyyyys im the worst with angst, but i tried!! 🙏

seungcheol the second you start shaking, he’s up on his feet, crossing the room and pulling you into a tight, crushing hug. he’s warm, solid, his hand gently cradling the back of your head. “my fault, my fault, my fault,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “i should’ve been better. i should’ve stopped this. i didn’t mean to hurt you. god, i didn’t mean it.”

jeonghan’s regretting it the whole time. too good at keeping his distance, until he sees the tears running down your cheeks. then, he freezes “hey, hey…” he pulls you into his arms, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “shit, i’m sorry. you know i was just being stupid, right?” he leans his forehead against yours, brushing his fingers through your hair. “don’t cry, baby. it kills me to see you like this.”

joshua he’s always so gentle, i dont even see him giving silent treatment to someone. he’s instantly at your side, cupping your face in his hands. “please don’t cry. i hate this. i hate that i made you feel like this.” his voice wavers as he presses his lips to your forehead, his touch feather-light. “i love you, okay? i’m so sorry. i should’ve never let it get this far.”

junhui’s been avoiding your gaze, trying to keep the silence going even though it’s killing him. that first broken sob makes him almost freak out, he’s at your side, his hands trembling as he touches your arm. “oh— i— no, don’t cry,” he murmurs, his voice in purew panic. he gently pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you.

hoshi snapd. of course he snaps. he practically flies out of his seat, rushing over to you, arms wide. “oh, shit—no, no, don’t cry, don’t cry,” he blurts out, voice frantic as he wraps you up in the tightest hug, almost lifting you off the ground with how desperate he is. his fingers stroke your back awkwardly, trying to soothe you, and his voice is trembling.

wonwoo when he sees the tears fall, something inside him bursts. he’s not good at dealing with emotions, but he can’t just sit there while you’re crying. he pulls you gently onto his lap, his hand awkwardly stroking your hair. “i’m sorry, i don’t always know how to show it… but i care. a lot. i never wanted to make you cry.” he presses a kiss to your temple, his heart racing. “don’t cry, please. or I will cry too.” wonwoo says—already crying.

woozi stands up, awkwardly hovering for a second before pulling you into a tight hug. “fuck… i’m sorry,” he whispers against your hair. “i didn’t mean to push you this far.” his grip on you tightens, and he rests his chin on your head, letting out a shaky breath. “i can’t stand seeing you like this.” fingers twitching like he’s about to break any second.

minghao crouches down now too, right in front of you. he doesn’t say much at first, just gently tugs your hands away from your face, his touch delicate, like he’s scared to break you even more. “this was stupid, i shouldn’t have done this. it was childish.” he holds your gaze, his eyes serious “you didn’t deserve that.” kisses the back of your hands, laying his head on your knees begging you for forgiveness.

mingyu is already full of shame before you even start crying. but when the sobs hit, he stops dead in his tracks. he rushes to you, kneeling down in front of you. his large hands cup your face, and his thumbs brush away your tears. “fuck, i never wanted to make you cry.” his voice cracks, and he pulls you into a bone-crushing hug, his head buried in your shoulder. looks like he’s about to break down himself.

seokmin gets on his knees beside you, eyes wide and watery, his usual smile completely gone. “my love i—” he says in this tiny voice, like he’s terrified he made everything worse. his hands flutter near your arm before he finally grips your sleeve like he needs you to believe him. “please don’t cry because of me.”

seungkwan’s been fidgeting the whole time, hating every second of the silence. thinking it couldn't get worse until you break in front of him “oh my god,” he blurts out, rushing over to you, his voice frantic. he pulls you into his arms, holding you as tight as he can. he lets out a shaky breath. “you’re everything to me. i’m sorry for making you feel like this.”

vernon is not sure how to fix it, thinking that in all ways, this sucked. the second you start crying, his chest tightens, and he’s at your side, pulling you into his lap. “i’m so so sorry. i didn’t mean to let it get this bad.” he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, trying to look into your eyes, pressing his lips into a line when you look away. “i’m here, okay? i’m here.” he presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

chan would be standing by the door, but the second you sob again, he’s crossing the room in three big steps, hands flinching to touch you and flinching back at him again as if he would burn you if he did. he would rather sit beside you still in silence, to find the best words since he hasn't talked during this whole time.

[josephandrewstarkey]

drew and reader have a toddler but they are broken up because reader thinks that drew and odessa are together. drew came to pick up the toddler and they start arguing over nothing because they miss each other so much.

ty for your request anon, i hope you like it!

second chances

warnings: slight angst

disclaimer: this is absolutely no shade/hate towards odessa, this is simply just for the plot <3

words: 1.036

❧ drew starkey x reader

The familiar sound of Drew’s car pulling up in the driveway sent a wave of tension through Y/N. She adjusted her grip on their toddler, Harper, who was happily babbling in her arms, blissfully unaware of the heavy silence that had settled between her parents for weeks.

It hadn’t been easy since the breakup. Y/N had thought she could handle it, but every time Drew came to pick up their daughter, the ache in her chest only grew deeper. It wasn’t just the end of their relationship that stung—it was the constant thought that he had moved on with Odessa. The rumors, the paparazzi photos, they all painted a picture that was too hard to ignore.

As Drew walked up the steps and knocked on the door, Y/N’s pulse quickened. She let out a slow breath and opened the door, greeted by the sight of him—his tousled hair, the familiar warmth in his eyes as he looked at Harper. For a moment, her heart faltered. Despite everything, seeing him still made her stomach flip.

“Hey,” Drew said softly, his eyes flicking to hers before focusing on Harper, who squealed with joy and reached out for him.

“Hi,” Y/N replied, handing their daughter over, careful to avoid letting their fingers touch. She couldn’t handle that right now.

Drew cradled Harper with ease, making her giggle as he kissed her cheek. For a moment, there was a pause, a heavy silence that neither of them knew how to fill.

“I’ve packed her bag,” Y/N said quickly, gesturing to the small backpack by the door. “Everything she’ll need for the weekend.”

Drew nodded, bouncing Harper slightly in his arms, though his gaze lingered on Y/N. “Thanks. I’ll have her back by Sunday night.”

Another stretch of silence filled the space between them, awkward and stifling. Y/N clenched her jaw, her mind swirling with all the things she wanted to say but couldn’t. She didn’t want to argue in front of Harper, but the frustration, the loneliness—it was all building inside her, begging to spill out.

And then it happened.

“So… how’s Odessa?” she asked, the words sharper than she intended, bitterness lacing her tone. She regretted it as soon as they left her lips, but the question hung in the air between them.

Drew’s brows furrowed, his hold on Harper tightening slightly. “What?”

Y/N crossed her arms defensively, her voice quieter now but still tense. “You two seem pretty close lately. The pictures... the rumors...”

Drew’s expression darkened, and he shifted Harper in his arms as she started to squirm. “Y/N, there’s nothing going on between me and Odessa. You know that.”

“Do I?” Y/N’s eyes flashed with hurt. “Because all I see is you spending more time with her than—”

“This again?” Drew interrupted, frustration creeping into his voice. “You’re really going to bring this up every time I come here? You think I don’t miss you? Miss us?”

Y/N’s breath hitched, the raw emotion in his voice catching her off guard. But she wasn’t ready to back down. “If you miss us so much, maybe you shouldn’t be cozying up to her in every photo.”

“I’m not cozying up to anyone,” Drew said, his voice rising slightly as he shifted Harper to his hip, trying to stay calm in front of their daughter. “I’m doing my job, Y/N. Odessa is a friend, and you know that. But you’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you?”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them back. “I made up my mind because you didn’t fight for us, Drew. You let us fall apart.”

Drew’s jaw clenched, his gaze softening as he saw the hurt written all over her face. “I didn’t want to lose you. I still don’t. But you keep pushing me away.”

“Because I can’t compete with her!” Y/N cried, her voice breaking. “I can’t compete with everything your world demands. It was always the two of us, and now... now it feels like I’m on the outside.”

Harper, sensing the tension, began to fuss, and Drew immediately began soothing her, rocking her gently. His eyes never left Y/N’s, though, filled with frustration, pain, and something else—something deeper.

“You’re not on the outside,” Drew said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re the one I love, Y/N. You’re the mother of my daughter, and you’re the only one I want. Odessa... she’s just a friend. That’s it.”

Y/N stared at him, her defenses crumbling as the weight of his words settled in. She wanted to believe him—God, she wanted to believe him so badly. But the pain of the last few months had built walls around her heart, and it wasn’t easy to just let them down.

“I miss you,” Drew whispered, his voice raw. “I miss us. This… this isn’t what I want. We’re a family, Y/N. I can’t keep doing this if we’re not going to at least try.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her heart aching as she looked at him, holding their daughter in his arms—their little family that felt so fractured. “I miss you too,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t know how to fix this, Drew. I don’t know how to trust that it’ll be different.”

Drew stepped closer, his free hand reaching out to gently cup her cheek. She didn’t pull away. “We fix it by talking, by being honest. Not by pushing each other away. Please… let’s try. For Harper. For us.”

Tears slipped down Y/N’s cheeks as she closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. She felt the weight of his words, the sincerity in them. Maybe they could try. Maybe they could find their way back to each other.

Opening her eyes, she met his gaze, filled with hope and longing. “Okay,” she whispered. “Let’s try.”

Drew let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his thumb brushing away her tears. “I love you, Y/N. That’s never changed.”

“I love you too,” she whispered, her heart finally beginning to mend.

And as Harper giggled between them, oblivious to the pain and healing happening around her, Y/N and Drew realized that maybe, just maybe, their family wasn’t broken after all.

[i5uckersblog]

When It Hurt

Summary: Logan cares for Wade during a painful episode, showing him he’s not alone.

Wade was slipping.

The pain felt different this time—worse. It crawled under his skin, dug into his bones, and wouldn’t let go. He had stopped keeping track of the days, the hours. Time blurred into one endless stream of hurt, and the only constant was the hollow ache deep in his body as it rebelled against him. His healing factor, usually his greatest weapon, was failing him tonight. Every cell felt like it was tearing itself apart.

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. He was cold. So cold that his teeth chattered, even as sweat dripped down his scarred face. His body lay sprawled on the floor of his dingy apartment, too weak to rise, too stubborn to call anyone for help. Not that anyone would care, right?

The door creaked open, but Wade didn’t lift his head. He couldn’t muster the strength to react, not even when the familiar heavy footsteps approached. A low sigh cut through the silence, and then that voice, rough as gravel.

“Wade.”

Logan.

Wade’s breath hitched, his body convulsing in a painful shiver. He wanted to say something, crack a joke, but all that came out was a broken whisper. “Logey…? Thought you… swore off visiting my… beautiful face.”

Logan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he knelt beside Wade, his gruff demeanor softening for a moment as he took in the sight of the man lying before him—pale, trembling, and looking more fragile than Logan had ever seen him. Wade was always larger than life, hiding behind endless wisecracks and masks, but now… now he looked small. Vulnerable.

“Christ, Wade. What’ve you done to yourself?” Logan muttered, his brows furrowing. His hands were steady as he gently touched Wade’s face, checking for fever. Cold as ice. “You’re freezing.”

Wade let out a weak laugh, the sound hollow and brittle. “Yeah… I’m a walking popsicle… catch me while you can.” His lips quivered, his voice breaking at the end. He hated this—hated being weak in front of anyone, especially Logan.

Logan didn’t bite at the joke this time. His focus was on getting Wade off the floor, his hands moving with surprising gentleness as he hooked them under Wade’s arms. “C’mon. We gotta get you warmed up,” Logan grumbled, lifting him with ease. Wade’s body was limp, too drained to protest.

The mercenary let out a faint groan as Logan guided him toward the couch, his muscles spasming with every step. It hurt. It all hurt. But he didn’t want Logan to see it—didn’t want to let anyone see how much it hurt.

“Logey, if you wanted to… cuddle, you could’ve… asked,” Wade slurred, trying desperately to keep up the act.

Logan just shook his head, his jaw tight. He laid Wade down on the couch, careful not to jostle him too much. Wade could feel the warmth of Logan’s hands lingering on him even after he pulled away. A shiver wracked his body, and his teeth chattered violently.

Logan grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch, covering Wade with it. “You’re a goddamn idiot,” Logan muttered, but there was no anger in his voice—just something that sounded almost… sad.

Wade stared up at him through half-lidded eyes, his vision blurry. “Yeah, but you… you love me,” he whispered, his breath catching on the last word.

Logan froze for a second, his expression flickering with something unreadable. Then, without a word, he disappeared into the kitchen. Wade could hear the sound of cabinets opening and closing, water running. His body ached, the pain throbbing in every limb, but for the first time in days, he wasn’t completely alone.

Logan returned a few minutes later, kneeling beside the couch with a steaming mug in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He pressed the glass to Wade’s lips, helping him drink. Wade gulped down the cool liquid, grateful for the relief it brought to his parched throat.

Logan watched him, his brow furrowed with concern. “When’s the last time you ate somethin’?”

Wade blinked, trying to remember. The days had bled together, but he couldn’t recall the last time he’d had anything besides a few sips of water. “Who needs food when you’ve got… cancer couture?” he rasped, but the joke fell flat, the usual spark missing from his voice.

Logan’s hand tightened around the mug, and for a moment, Wade thought he was going to snap. But instead, Logan held the mug up to Wade’s mouth, his touch so gentle it almost felt like a dream. Wade sipped slowly, the warmth of the broth spreading through his chest, taking the edge off the freezing cold that had settled deep in his bones.

“You’re not invincible,” Logan said quietly, his voice rough but soft. “I know you act like you are, but… this? This ain’t a joke, Wade.”

Wade’s breath hitched, a lump forming in his throat. Logan didn’t talk like this. Logan didn’t do feelings. But here he was, sitting beside Wade like a goddamn guardian angel, watching over him with that stubborn look of his.

“Hey… don’t… don’t get all mushy on me, Wolvie,” Wade whispered, but the usual sarcasm was gone. His voice cracked, betraying him. “I’m fine… always fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Logan snapped, but then his tone softened again. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

That hit Wade harder than any bullet or blade ever had. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard against the sudden wave of emotion that rose in his chest. The pain was still there, sharp and all-consuming, but so was something else—something warmer, something that cut through the icy numbness that had settled over him.

“Why do you care?” Wade asked, his voice barely a whisper now. His eyes fluttered open, meeting Logan’s steady gaze. “Why… do you always come back?”

Logan didn’t answer right away. His expression was stoic, but Wade could see the tension in his jaw, the way his hand gripped the edge of the couch like he was holding something back. Finally, Logan spoke, his voice low and raw.

“Because you’re not alone in this,” he said, his eyes never leaving Wade’s. “No matter how much you act like you wanna be.”

Wade’s breath caught in his throat, and for once, he didn’t have a joke. Didn’t have anything to say to that. Instead, he just let the words settle, let the warmth of Logan’s presence wrap around him like the blanket tucked over his shaking form.

Logan stayed by his side, not moving, not saying another word. He didn’t have to. Wade closed his eyes, feeling the heaviness in his chest start to loosen, just a little.

It still hurt—God, it hurt so much—but with Logan there, it was bearable. He wasn’t fine, not by a long shot. But he wasn’t alone.

And for now, that was enough.

[alisonwritesimagines]

You'll Be Mine and I'll Be Yours ~LA!Mihawk Imagine~

Summary: Mihawk finally asks you to be his.

Author’s Note: Now that the live action One Piece officially announced who Crocodile and Robin is and I'm in the Skypiea arc on the anime, I am posting my drafts with my Enchanted series.

Based in my Enchanted Series

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: none, fluff

Do not repost this anywhere!

“Is it bad to say that I don’t want to go home yet? Or at least not sleep just yet?” You asked Mihawk one night.

He had come back to you from being gone for so long. You hated to admit that you missed him a lot. After a dinner together, you felt like you couldn't sleep or had the feeling of wanting to go to bed. For once, you wanted to stay up.

“Why’s that?”

“Don’t know. Just not feeling sleepy right now,” you tell him.

“Then how about we take a stroll?” Mihawk asked you.

“A stroll?”

“If you’re worried about it being dangerous, don’t. I will be joining you to make sure you don’t get hurt,” Mihawk tells you.

“I wasn’t worried. I knew you’d join me even if I said no. I know you follow me to make sure I’m safe.”

“I see you finally noticed.”

“Yeah. But I’m okay with a stroll. Come on,” you tell him.

You both walked along a path side by side. The stars glowed beautifully in the sky.

“So, what does a warlord like yourself have to gain?” You asked him. The full moon shined so brightly, you didn’t need a lantern to guide your way.

“Gain from what?”

“This small village. There’s nothing really here,” you pointed out.

“You’re here aren’t you?”

You looked at him, the blood rushing to your cheeks. It began to feel a little hot to you. Damn his words always somehow got to you.

“I guess.”

“What about you? You said you were alone. What do you have to gain staying here?” Mihawk asked you.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I just keep hoping my boys will come back to me.”

“Tell me about them,” Mihawk said.

“Well they’re both pirates now. One of them is just a boy who is determined to become King of the Pirates. I used to take care of him since he was a kid along with two others. And the other one is around our age. He is a captain of a pirate crew.”

“Was he your lover?”

“Yeah. He told me he’d come back but he hasn’t," you sighed softly.

“This ex lover of yours sounds like a fool,” Mihawk said.

“Why say that?”

“Because if I had a woman like you, I could never leave her and not come back,” Mihawk tells you. You stopped walking as you stared up at him.

“You don’t mean that,” you softly spoke. You didn't want your heart broken again by another pirate.

“I do. I could never leave a woman like you alone,” Mihawk said as he held your hand. You looked down at your hands before looking away.

“Maybe we should go back,” you tell him.

“If that’s what you want.”

You nodded before letting go of his hand and heading back to your home. The walk was silent besides your footsteps on the graveled path.

When you got back to your home, you felt Mihawk take your hand into his.

“Will you be mine?” Mihawk asked. You turned to face him. Mihawk got closer to you, caging you in between him and the front door.

“What?”

“Be mine? I've fallen for you Y/n. I know you have fallen for me as well. And I swear to you, I would never let anything happen to you,” Mihawk tells you.

"I don't want my heart broken again," you tell him.

"I will never hurt you. I'd die first before hurting you," Mihawk tells you.

“Alright. I’ll be yours,” you nodded at him.

“May I kiss you?” Mihawk asked you.

“Yes please,” You nodded. Mihawk cupped your cheek before leaning in to kiss you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as you kissed him back. You felt Mihawk pull his hand away from your cheek and move down to your waist. He pulled you in closer as he kissed you.

You pulled away from the kiss for air. Mihawk gently pressed his forehead against yours, taking in a couple of deep breaths as well.

“Do you want to stay the night?” You asked him.

“If you’d have me,” Mihawk tells you. You nodded before turning around to open the door. You pulled Mihawk inside before shutting the door and locking it.

When you woke up, you smelled food. You noticed Mihawk wasn’t next to you, making you sit up. You got out of bed and walked to the front to see him cooking in your kitchen.

“Nice to see you awake,” you tell him.

“Morning. Breakfast will be ready in a moment,” Mihawk tells you.

“So we sleep in the same bed together for the first time and you make breakfast? Any other secrets I should know about you?” You teased.

“It’s not really a secret. You’re mine now remember? I have every intention to spoil you,” Mihawk tells you. You smiled before walking over to him and kiss his cheek.

“Aren’t you romantic,” you tell him.

"Only for you my love," Mihawk says to you before kissing your cheek.

"So what do you want to do today?" You asked him.

"I was hoping to help you get over your fear of the ocean," Mihawk asked.

"Why's that?" You asked unsure.

"You've been cooped up in here for too long my love. I'd like to show you the world if you let me," Mihawk said.

"Okay. You're gonna have to be patient with me though," you warned.

"Of course," Mihawk said, giving you a quick kiss.

[chicgeekgirl89]

Rating: K Summary: T.K. is eager to return to the firehouse for his first shift post-icy pond coma. He's feeling great, excited, and ready for anything. What he doesn't expect is a surprise visit from a lonely Carlos in the middle of the night. A/N: This one has been sitting for a while and I figured I should probably release it before we FINALLY get some new material to work with this week!!

Read on AO3

“Did you pack extra socks?”

“Yes.”

“Your vitamins? Your hoodie?”

“Yes, Carlos.”

“I put an extra blanket for you in a bag by the door, make sure you grab it on your way out.”

“Okay, this is starting to feel more like my first day of Kindergarten than my first day back at work,” T.K. chuckles. 

Carlos shifts uncomfortably and huffs. “I just want to make sure you have everything you need.”

T.K. puts a hand on his chest, steadying him. “I’m going to the firehouse. Not the moon. If I need something you can bring it to me. It’s twelve hours Carlos. One overnight shift. I’ll be okay.”

“I still think maybe you should have waited until there was a day shift available,” Carlos insists. “You need your sleep.”

“Babe, I want to go back. I need to go back. If I sit around here for much longer I’m going to go crazy,” T.K. says gently. “The doctors cleared me, my dad cleared me, Tommy cleared me. I’m good to go.”

“Nobody asked me if I cleared you,” Carlos grumbles low, almost as if he doesn’t mean for T.K. to hear it. 

T.K.’s mouth twists into a half smile that he tries to suppress. Carlos has been extremely attentive and serious about T.K.’s recovery care since coming home from the hospital. There have been schedules and spreadsheets and alarm reminders about medications and appointments. T.K. has been plied with so much of Andrea’s soup that it feels like his eyeballs could float.

He still tires a little quicker than normal, especially toward the end of the day, and he hasn’t quite shaken off the permanent chill that ate its way into his bones in that frozen pond, but he feels almost back to one hundred percent. And he’s definitely well enough to get through one shift. 

“I will be okay,” T.K. promises him. “If anything feels off I’ll tell Tommy and come right home.”

Carlos eyes him, still not convinced. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

His phone buzzes and he checks it. “Nancy’s here. I’ll see you in a few hours. You’ll barely even know I’m gone.”

“Be safe,” Carlos says. 

It was their standard standard farewell before. Before the fire and the breakup and the ice.

“I will,” T.K. responds. The words have an odd weight in his chest. The last time he went to work they were broken up. He couldn’t promise Carlos that he would be safe, and he wasn’t. He fell through a frozen pond and died and woke up to a second chance with the love of his life.

It feels good to be able to make that promise again.

“Love you,” he says, pecking Carlos on the lips as he shoulders his work bag.

“Love you too,” Carlos says. “Ah! Blanket!” he calls as T.K. reaches for the doorknob.

T.K. accepts the bag from him. “Thanks Mom.”

Carlos rolls his eyes, but there’s a fond, slightly embarrassed smile on his lips. “Shut up.”

T.K. takes the elevator down to the ground floor and exits out the front doors to where Nancy is parked and waiting. “Aw yeah!!” she yells out the car window. “Get in loser! We’re going to work!”

T.K. throws his bag giddily into the back seat and buckles his seatbelt. “Freedoooom!!” he crows happily as she puts it into gear.

“Oh, yeah, like it’s been so hard for you recovering with Carlos catering to your every whim,” Nancy teases. 

She’s not wrong; he has no complaints. Carlos has been with him as much as possible for the last few weeks, rebuilding the fractured splinters of their relationship into something that finally feels solid again. T.K.’s heart is nearly as recovered as his body. There have been painful moments, lots of tears, anger, and some difficult confessions, but already T.K. feels stronger for it. The break up was awful, and part of him still hates himself for his role in it, but it almost feels worth it to be where they are now. 

“So catch me up on the gossip,” T.K. says as they drive. “What’s the firehouse tea?”

“Mm! Yes! God, I missed you,” Nancy says fervently. “Okay. Someone froze Paul’s boxers last week and he’s still so mad about it. He thinks it was Mateo.”

“And was it?”

“Nope.” She pops the ‘p’ and smiles wickedly. “It was me and Marj.”

“Nice.” T.K. sinks into the seat, already feeling like he’s settling back into normal. “What else?”

“Torbin’s girlfriend left him. Again,” she says. “And your dad found the decoy candy stash, but the real one is still safe.”

“Third cabinet from the left behind the spare hoses?”

“You know it.”

“Are there Sour Patch Kids?”

She takes her eyes off the road for a second to smile at him. “I restocked them for you as a welcome back gift.”

“Aw, thanks Nance,” he says, heart warming at her kindness. 

The entire 126 has stepped in a major way over the last few weeks. The fridge in the loft hasn’t been empty of food once, everyone has stopped by to check on him, and the group text thread has been full of encouraging and silly texts. It had hurt to watch them all get back to work once the station opened; he’d been able to attend the ceremony but hadn’t been cleared for duty yet. But tonight they will finally be all together again.

When they arrive the house is quiet. There’s no flurry of activity in the bays; everything is oddly silent and dark. 

“What’s going on?” T.K. asks as they get out of Nancy’s car, nerves fluttering. Have they been shut down again for some reason? They literally just reopened a couple weeks ago, if they’ve been taken out of service already….

The lights flick on and there’s a cacophonous shout of “SURPRISE!” as the whole team pops out from behind the engine and the ambulance. There’s a giant banner with “Welcome Back T.K.” on the front of the rig, along with balloons and streamers, and Paul is holding a massive cake.

The grin that splits T.K.’s face is so wide it hurts and he feels tears prick at the corner of his eyes. It’s Marjan who comes to him first, holding out her arms as she runs over for a hug. “Welcome back,” she says warmly and he squeezes her tightly before letting go to catch the next person in line.

Judd claps a hand onto his shoulder. “Good to have you home brother.”

“Thanks,” T.K. says. “And please tell Grace thank you again for all the meals. It’s made our lives so much easier these last couple weeks.”

Even with a newborn in the house, somehow Grace had managed to send over meals to make sure Carlos and T.K. didn’t starve during his convalescence. 

“Yeah between you and Paul she’s been basically running a catering company out of our kitchen,” Judd says. “Gotta make sure everybody’s taken care of. But you’re cut off now,” he announces loudly. “Time for y’all to do your own cookin’ again.”

“Bro, I can’t believe you didn’t even lose any toes or anything,” Mateo says when it’s his turn. His hug is accompanied by a back slap that chokes the breath out of T.K. for a second. “I mean it’s good, but like, that would have been pretty gnarly.”

“Yeah, I’m glad I kept all my appendages,” T.K. says. “I find them pretty essential.”

“Still, would have been a cool story,” Mateo says a little wistfully.

“Mateo his story is already plenty cool,” Paul says. “In fact, it’s so cool, it’s almost frozen solid. And that is why we got you this cake.”

He holds it up for T.K.’s inspection and T.K. bursts into laughter. It’s got Frozen characters all over it and reads “The Cold Never Bothered T.K. Anyway.” 

“It’s an ice cream cake,” Paul says proudly, like this is the greatest collective idea they’ve ever had.

“I love it,” T.K. says. “It’s perfect.”

“Okay, okay, let the adults have a turn,” Tommy says, breaking through the crowd and pulling T.K. into a warm, soft hug. “Welcome back T.K. It’s so good to see you well.”

T.K. hugs her back, a little extra tight. He’s very aware that he’s not the only one who lived through several days of trauma because of that pond. This woman’s hands saved his life, kept his heart beating long enough for help to arrive. Even when the question of whether he’d live had been answered, there was still uncertainty about how functional he would be. That he’s back at work like nothing ever happened is astonishing. It’s a triumph for both of them.

“Cap I don’t—“ The words stick in his throat because how do you thank someone for doing what she did?

She pulls back and squeezes his shoulders. “I know baby,” she says softly, eyes looking a little moist. “It’s okay. You’re here. That’s all that matters.”

Tommy looks past him and T.K. turns to find his dad. “C’mere kiddo,” he says warmly and T.K. ducks his head, slightly embarrassed by this display of fatherly affection in front of his team. “Love you,” his dad murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to his hair before patting him sharply on the back. “All right team! Let’s celebrate the 126 being finally, officially back together!”

T.K. takes a photo with the cake to send to Carlos before they cut into it. Paul makes sure T.K. gets the piece with Elsa’s face on it and they all talk and joke and laugh like no time has passed at all.

When the bells go off he feels a thrill go down his spine, excitement tinged with a little bit of nerves. “You ready?” Nancy asks as they climb into the rig.

“You know it,” he says with a grin. “Cap?”

Tommy buckles in. “Let’s roll.”

“Yeah!!! TNT is back in action!” Nancy honks the horn as they roll out of the garage and peal off toward an elderly slip and fall.

It’s a relatively easy call, a good, low stress reintroduction to the job. They drop the woman off at the hospital with a possible concussion and sprained ankle and are on their way back to the station when another call comes in for a fire in a single family home.

They meet up with the rest of the crew at the address, where they find a relatively small, but smoky kitchen fire. They’re not needed beyond basic first aid and are sent to a call for a choking at a restaurant next. 

T.K. is practically buzzing with energy by the time they finally get back to the station an hour later. Some of it is probably sugar from the large piece of cake he downed before they started, but he’s also flying high on the joy of saving people. He’d known he missed the job, but he hadn’t realized quite how much until he’d snapped on his gloves and started taking vitals again. 

He bounces out of the ambulance into the bay, already knowing that he’s not going to sleep at all tonight. Maybe he can persuade Mateo to pull a Mario Kart all nighter with him.

It’s past ten but the rest of the crew is still up, most of them in the showers still trying to get the stench of the kitchen fire off. T.K. is on his way to grab a second piece of cake when he hears Judd call his name from the doorway to the locker room.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“Found something that belongs to you,” Judd says, an odd smirk on his face.

“Something that belongs to me?” T.K. wrinkles his nose. He’s barely been back five hours, what could he possibly be missing already? 

As realization dawns he rolls his eyes. “Is this a welcome back prank? What’d you do? Put my keys in jello? Hide a fish in my locker?”

“Nope,” Judd says. “You’d better go check your bunk though. It’s waitin’ for ya.”

His bunk? What the hell? Giving Judd a final suspicious look he heads for the bunk room.  

He enters with caution, aware that this is likely a trap. When his eyes adjust to the darkened lighting he finds Judd was right; there is a familiar lump that most definitely belongs to him curled up in the middle of his bed. T.K.’s heart stutters and he crosses the room in only a few strides, sinking down onto the edge of the mattress.

His hand automatically goes to Carlos’ forehead, fear that his boyfriend has somehow become ill or injured in the hours since he left home at the forefront of his mind. “Babe,” he says worriedly, brushing his fingers across Carlos’ face and down his neck.

Carlos’ eyelids flutter and he blinks up soft, brown, confused eyes at T.K. before quickly pushing up to a sitting position. “Hey,” he says, a little breathless as he tries to recover from his late night nap. 

“Baby, are you okay?” T.K. asks, his fingers still worriedly searching for signs of fever or injury.

“Yeah, yes, I’m fine,” Carlos says, clearing his throat and scooting back so there’s some space between them. 

Relief extinguishes the spike of adrenaline in T.K.’s veins and he relaxes a little as curiosity takes over. “What are you doing here then? Did something happen at home?”

Carlos’ face takes on a slightly evasive look. “No, everything’s fine at the loft.” 

“Then why are you asleep in my bunk?”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I was just waiting for you.” The words are quick, almost defensive.

“Waiting for me?” T.K. frowns. “Did you come all the way over here just to make sure I haven’t passed out or something? Seriously Carlos, we talked about this. I promised I would be careful.”

“No, that’s not—I wasn’t—“ Carlos huffs in frustration and T.K. tries to read the look on his face without success.

“Baby, what is it?”

Carlos looks down at his hands and mumbles something that T.K. doesn’t catch. “What?” he asks, confusion and concern clouding his happy back-to-work buzz.

Carlos sighs and meets his gaze, embarrassment all over his face. “I said, I missed you.”

T.K. softens at these words. “You came all the way over here because you missed me?”

“It’s stupid,” Carlos says, his discomfort at this vulnerable admission written into every line of his body.

“No,” T.K. says, scooching a little closer to him. “No, baby, no. It’s not stupid.”

“It is stupid,” Carlos says. “I’m a grown man. I should be able to spend one night without my boyfriend.”

“It’s okay,” T.K. says with a chuckle. “We’ve spent a lot of time together lately. It’s cute that you got lonely without me.”

“This was dumb, I’m gonna go.” Carlos starts to get up, but T.K. catches his hand. 

“No, stay for a little bit.”

Carlos sinks back down reluctantly. “Isn’t everyone coming up soon? It’s late.”

“They’re still cleaning up downstairs. And Judd knows we’re up here. He’ll probably make them give us a few minutes.”

He grabs Carlos’ arm and pulls it around his waist, scooting backward toward the center of the small mattress and pushing against Carlos’ body.

“What are you doing?” Carlos asks in confusion.

“Come on, snuggle me. You drove all the way over here, might as well get some cuddles to remember me by in our bed tonight.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, come on.” T.K. wiggles his butt invitingly until Carlos slides down and spoons him the way he wants. “See? Better already, right?”

Carlos huffs a laugh against the back of T.K.’s neck. It’s a tight fit, both of them on this twin size firehouse mattress, but they squirm around and manage to find a position that’s comfortable enough.  

T.K. waits, feeling Carlos relax against him as the minutes pass uninterrupted. His own eyes feel a little heavy; it would be so easy to fall asleep like this. Sleeping on the couch at his dad’s for months had been devastatingly lonely. At the time he’d tried to pretend it wasn’t; that he was glad there was no room for Carlos when he laid his head down at night. 

But in the months since, he’s recognized how horribly isolating it was. He’d taken a lot of extra shifts because it was easier to sleep in beds that Carlos had never touched. 

These memories stir a thought. “You haven’t been alone at the loft since I came home from the hospital,” T.K. says softly.

He feels Carlos stiffen a little behind him. “Yeah, I guess that’s right.”

“It must have been hard before, all those nights when I wasn’t there,” T.K. says, focusing on every tiny movement and breath happening behind him. In all their many conversations the last few weeks, they’ve mostly talked about what broke them up in the first place and how to keep it from happening again. Carlos has avoided saying much about the actual time they spent apart. T.K. is pushing at a tender spot, one that Carlos has been loathe to talk about in lieu of “moving on” instead. But his boyfriend is here seeking comfort for a reason and T.K. can’t let him go home without uncovering what it is. 

When Carlos doesn’t speak T.K. pushes a little harder. “I had my dad and Mateo, but you were there all by yourself.”

“We don’t have to talk about this.”

There’s tension in Carlos’ voice and T.K. awkwardly rolls over until they’re facing each other, refusing to back down. “Did you talk to anyone? All those months apart? Have you told anyone how that felt?”

The lines of Carlos’ brow are tight, like he’s struggling to keep his feelings tucked down deep inside of him. “It’s in the past T.K.”

“If it’s in the past, then why are you here?” he asks, keeping his voice gentle.

Carlos swallows, his eyes closing like he’s in pain. There’s a long moment of quiet and T.K. wonders if he’s going to have to let it drop for tonight. But then, “You were gone. There was no one to tell,” Carlos finally says.

That’s what he’d been afraid of. Carlos hadn’t told his family, T.K. already knew that. And he’s far too polite a person to air his grievances to any of their friends, especially since most of them are also T.K.’s colleagues. T.K. is his person. The one he feels safe with. When T.K. walked out of that loft he hadn’t just left Carlos, he’d taken his entire support system with him.

“I’m here. Tell me now,” he says. “Please?”

Carlos’ eyes drop to the third or fourth button down on T.K.’s uniform shirt, the words too difficult to say to his face. “Those nights were awful,” he tells the button. “I would lie in bed, hating myself for pushing you away, furious at you for leaving me. I was���god—I was so lonely, T.K. I wanted you back so damn much it hurt.

He finally lifts his eyes a little and they look haunted, like mentally he’s reliving those awful, dark hours. “I know this isn’t the same. I know you’re just here at work, but sitting there in the quiet tonight, all by myself…”

“It felt like I’d left you all over again,” T.K. finishes for him.

“Yeah, kind of.” His mouth twists and he shifts uncomfortably. “I know this isn’t the same thing. I kept telling myself I’d see you in the morning, but I couldn’t sleep and I couldn’t stop thinking and I just…I wanted to see you.”

“You can always come see me. If you need that reassurance, I will give it to you.”

T.K. takes Carlos’ hand and kisses it before pressing it over his heart, pounding forcefully with grief over mistakes and lost time beneath his ribs. His other hand he secures on Carlos’ hip, his thumb moving back and forth soothingly. “I am here,” he says firmly. “I am coming home to you. Every day. And every night. From now on. You’re not alone in that loft anymore, Carlos. I might not be there all the time, but I will always want to be. It’s our home. I don’t want it to feel like anything else ever again.”

Carlos gives him a lopsided smile. “Me neither.

“Come here.”

He pulls Carlos into his arms, holding him tightly. The tones go off and Carlos tries to let him go but T.K. tucks him in tighter. “It’s just fire, not us,” he says, feeling slightly guilty that he’s glad his teammates are running back to work because it means no one is going to bother them for awhile. 

They stay curled up together for so long, that T.K. wonders if Carlos is going to go back to sleep. But finally he pulls back, his body relaxed and loose. “Better?” T.K. asks.

Carlos nods. “Yes. Thank you.” His gaze turns more serious, assessing. “How are you? Are you feeling all right? How’s the shift been?”

T.K. chuckles. “I’m not the one who fell asleep in my boyfriend’s work bunk. Yes, I’m fine. The shift has been amazing. I missed this so much.”

“You haven’t gotten lightheaded or dizzy? You’re not too tired?”

“No. Not even a little.”

“Good,” Carlos says, relief smoothing out the last of the lines that crease his brow. “I know I’m being selfish, wanting to keep you home with me, but I really am glad you’re back. That all of you are back. It was nice to walk in and see the whole crew together again.”

“Yeah,” T.K. agrees, a warm bloom in his chest.

“I should get going,” Carlos says. “You need to get at least a little sleep tonight.”

“Come on. Since my dad is gone we can raid the secret candy stash before you go. I’ll even let you have some of my Sour Patch Kids.”

Carlos wrinkles his nose as T.K. pulls him to his feet. “I don’t know how you can stand those things.”

“They’re delicious! First they’re sour, then they’re sweet!”

“It’s almost midnight. Didn’t you have cake earlier too? Please tell me you ate a vegetable at dinner.”

[sleep-0-deprived]

What would it be like for a yandere bully and a jock to share the nerdy reader? Could there be some headcanons?

Yandere bully, jock sharing male reader head cannons~! ૮꒰ ˶ ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

<33

At first Jake and Damian didn’t wanna be within a ten mile radius of eachother, over time the only reason they started to get along was because you were being approached by some other boy. To say Damian was losing it was an understatement and the only person he knew as mentally insane as him was Jake, he didn’t wanna team up with him but atleast Jake was worthy enough of your attention like he was, unlike that stupid boy who thought he had a shot!

Days past the boy that first started chatting to you suddenly wouldn’t walk your way and who was comforting your broken little heart? Jake and Damian! Both there by your side smothering you in praises Damian seeming to be all sweet to you for once, you both staying at Jake’s house midway through having you face down ass up with Damian’s cock stretching your run to its breaking point while Jake just pets your head and coos sweet words treating your mouth like a little cock sleeve while he whispers “there’s my favorite boy, smarter in more ways than just books, so smart with pleasing us aren’t you, angel?”

After that moment it might have been sealed and written down in fate because there was no leaving now that these two guys had you in their clutch, sharing wasn’t ideal but for you they’d do anything and despite them hating to agree and they’d most definitely never say it out loud but Jake knew Damian was just as screwed in the head as him when it came to obsessing over you, Damian let up on the bullying not by much since he loved that face you’d make looking up at him with swollen cheeks sitting on your knees crying in the hallway before him— gosh he’d get hard just imagining those little lips quivering.

Jake would always make you attend his games you knew that but what you didn’t know is how he’d get the locker room cleared for a few minutes before the game sneaking you in giving him just enough time to get your back pressed to the locker with your leg hiked up nice and high while he murmurs in and on “when I win this game I’m gonna be thanking you so much baby, you’re my little charm aren’t you.”

Damian on the other hand wasn’t nearly as sweet with his words nor as gentle with you, he’d fuck you bent over like a whore in the gym storage room with one hand over your mouth not even caring it there was class going on outside that door he’d just lean his head down and whisper right into your ear “if you don’t want all those jokes seeing how slutty the school genius is then you better pipe down pipsqueak” you could practically feel the grin against your neck when he held your thighs tight

By the time study hall rolls around they are both so pent up and needy for you they can’t take it, having you in the back of the janitors closet with one hand in each of their pants just trying to get them all quickly so no teacher or custodian walks in and sees “shh it’s all fine [name] the janitor won’t be by for another hour or so” Jake would whisper to you in your ear and kiss at your bottom lobe feeling his cock throbbing in your left hand almost ready to explode as he heaves in your ear while Damian rolls his eyes acting tough for you but he can’t deny the fact his stomach was churning and he was on the edge but he’d be damned if he didn’t outlast Jake because in some weird sense he wanted to impress you more….no matter what even if they share you they will always compete at it!

[pendarling]

Curly & Dark

Hero lightly brushed their fingers against the tight curls and looked at their reflection.

"Oh, didn't you know? Villain likes looser and longer hair so..."

They were in shambles, and they hated to admit it. They didn't like their enemy, no, only offended that anyone could assume that at all. Especially their friend; why did they say that? Nothing was wrong with their curls, at least nothing they could think of. Who cares if Villain likes lighter skin and eyes?

That had nothing to do with them, and who told their friend what Villain preferred? They could be lying. Villain always lied.

Not to them, of course, or at least Hero hoped so. Villain was very careful with their words when they whispered sweet poems in their ear when they got too close for comfort in their hand-to-hand combats. Villain's eyes didn't lie when they stared longingly back at Hero; their body gave away their feelings. Hero knew it all too well and was confident that Villain couldn't care less about their dumb curls or their skin.

It didn't matter. It shouldn't matter. It's a stupid claim, but it still hurts.

Hero's breathing quickened as they frowned deeply at themselves through the mirror with fingers caught up in the strands of hair and oh...

Hero thought, 'What a strange appearance. None of my peers look the way I do.' They huffed and walked slowly out of the bathroom, 'That should be a good thing. I stand out.'

It didn't feel good, however. Their head replayed the scene from earlier again.

Hero stood in front of their friend, and their friend smiled at them when they said it, trying to let them know kindly of the situation. They cared and didn't want Hero's heart to be broken when it would be revealed that Villain was just bullying them afterall.

"They have bad intentions; we all know Villain doesn't like curly hair, so it doesn't make sense... you're suit... yeah, that's probably why they said all that. If you wore something else, it would've been different."

Hero's suit now lay on their bed; they've worn it for years and never thought it played a part in their world. Was it too revealing? Inappropriate? Hero liked it; it was created to accommodate Hero's powers. They didn't think of it as anything else, but assuming it was attracting the wrong kind of attention, Hero was willing to wear something new.

They couldn't stop thinking all night after earlier. The next time they saw Villain, they should start ignoring them. Whatever Villain was up to was too cruel. If they hated someone that looked like them, then they should stop interacting completely.

At least that's what they told themselves to do, but still, Hero found themselves taking up another job that would require them to see Villain again.

They sat waiting on the ledge of their usual meeting spot on the roof of a building far from home. Any second now, they'd hear Villain's voice call their name with a ring in it that made their heart skip.

"There you are."

Hero sat up straighter and turned around. "Hi." Hero shyly spoke. It was less confident than they anticipated. Their hands immediately went to touch their hair again; the messy thing always got in the way, and they had taken the time to flat-iron it that morning before showing up. They couldn't remember the last time they straightened their hair; it's been a while, and they accidentally burned their ear with the hot rod in their haste to get it done as quickly as possible as if the curls were a disease.

"You look different," Villain noted, widely smiling as they set their gaze on them.

They swallowed their nervousness and stood up. "Uhm.. yeah, thought I could use a change."

"Looks good."

Hero wanted to ask if it was true. Still, something forced their tongue down even when silence fell into their conversation, where they'd usually idly chat for a good few more minutes before getting into their usual spar.

Villain's hand reached for their belt and pulled out the hilt of their sword. "May I have this dance?" They stepped closer and aimed at them, waiting for a response.

"Try to keep up this time." Hero's hand glowed a shallow colour, just enough to get them riled up.

They fought bravely as usual, each blow heavier than the last, quicker and matching Villain's attacks.

Their smile persisted throughout the entire duration. Hero dodged Villain's sword and slashed at the air with a sharp flick of their wrist. A thin line of energy burst from their hands, and the Villain deflected it with their sword.

Hero took another step back, catching the blade with their hand and twisting it away from their body, unaware that they'd run out of places to move as they felt their back pressed against a wall.

"So quick to lose," Villain smirked as they panted hard from their chest and out. Hero could feel their body buzzing with excitement; although some doubts still lingered, it was all irrelevant at this moment. "Or did you want me to corner you like this?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself." Hero breathed heavily, all too happy for their liking. They could feel the heat on their face, hotter than it was supposed to be after hardly fighting.

When Villain stepped closer, Hero felt their smile falter a bit. An unreasonable fear consumed their head as they repressed the feeling of touching their hair again. "Ever wonder," Villain began, "What it would be like outside the mask?" Their head tilted slightly with that same crooked smile they'd grown so used to.

"No..." Hero whispered, "There's nothing interesting."

Villain laughed lightly, "Not even yourself?" They leaned down closer, their fingers tapping at the hilt of their sword while Hero's sweating palms rubbed the rough brick behind them, memorizing every crevice.

"Not even myself." Their eyes flickered downward, then back up again, "And you?"

"I have lots to offer." They casually answered.

Hero rolled their eyes, "Sure you do."

They heard them huff and mock a shocked expression. "You're questioning me?" Villain placed a hand on their chest. "I have what you could only dream of-- what you couldn't comprehend."

"Like what?" Hero pressed.

The criminal shrugged and crossed their arms, "Nice try, but I'm selective about who I choose to tell."

'Selective.' Hero reiterated in their head and licked their lips; the feeling that tormented them the other night returned. Itching up their throat and successfully stopping Hero from pursuing the conversation any further.

"You're awfully quiet," Villain remarked and moved back from them slowly, their eyes analyzing the way Hero stood almost slumped up against the wall. "Usually, you're so much more hot-headed."

"You like hot-headed?" Hero quickly snapped. It came out more disgruntled than they wanted. Hero didn't know what overcame them; what was supposed to be a good sensation had burned into a simmering hatred for this strange relationship they had. Hero took a deep breath, their brows furrowed as they stared at their shoes and tried to stop themselves before it was too late.

"Relax." Villain's voice cut through their head. "I just wanted you to know that you're acting out of character."

Hero didn't even bother this time and felt their hands grasping at the air before they could understand. Each fist went flying at Villain, aiming to hit as hard as possible.

Villain played defence, avoiding each one of their punches with swift movements and slight turns. "What's the matter, Hero? I think you've gotten--"

"Shut up!" Their first, burning a bright array of white and yellow, shoved into the metal frame of a nearby door; the ground cracked beneath them upon impact, and Villain stumbled as they went behind Hero with that same obnoxious laughter.

Villain's brows raised, impressed as they whistled at the scene, "Careful, that could break your hand."

"I said stop talking to me!" Hero went to hit them again, throwing enough of their energy to tear Villain's sword away from their hands when they went to deflect again.

Hero never got Villain's weapon away from them before. It surprised them how much they could do, and the surprise made them nearly trip if Villain hadn't caught them just in time. Their powers faded slowly as Hero's emotions dropped back down again. Something about being held so closely has thrown them out of focus.

"I said be careful didn't I?" They softly uttered. Hero's heartbeat fell back into its strange rhythm as usual, a different kind of beat that played a romantic song in their head and repeated itself for weeks. It was then that they grew keenly aware where Villain's hand were placed, so neatly on each side of their waist and so gentle with them. Hero's eyes blinked with confusion until they buried their head into Villain's chest.

"Sorry." They muffled the apology, still holding tears back.

"It's okay." Villain's hands grasped at their suit, slightly tugging at its edges.

They shook their head, "No, it's not." Their lips trembled, and a few drops of tears escaped them as their mind muddled in the confusion of being torn between truth and agonizing desperation. They couldn't stop themselves from saying what they hoped they could hide, "Do you like curly?" Hero heard themselves whisper, wishing they had more control over what they said when Villain didn't respond right away.

Villain's fingers paused. "What? Your hair?"

Hero could only nod, too afraid that the next time they spoke, they would start sobbing uncontrollably.

"I like curly." They murmured. "I like curly... and I like dark." Villain moved one hand to their back, rotating up and down. "Is that what's bothering you?"

Hero sniffled, feeling silly more than ever. "It isn't just teasing then." They said, more to themselves than to their enemy. They smiled under them, their knuckles still stung from the last hit, but that was behind Hero now.

They briefly stood in silence until Villain questioned them again. "Who told you I didn't like it?"

Hero cleared their throat. "A friend."

"Friend?" They stretched the word, sounding more startled as Villain worked through a list of names they'd seen Hero with before. "Which one?"

"The one with blond hair." They answered slowly.

"Hero." They called.

They lifted their head, eyes still foggy. "Yeah?"

"Do me a favour," Villain's thumb came to wipe their tear, "and don't listen to them."

~~~

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[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 15. Proven Wrong (Garrick POV)

The rest of the quadrant await the arrival of the newly bonded riders. And one rider is a little more anxious than they would like to admit over a certain Aetos.

Set Pre Fourth Wing/Books

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist

It was getting late. The sun starting to set in the sky. Most of the cadets, now riders, had returned with dragons. The flight field looking vastly fuller than it had this morning when we’d gotten into formation no long after the dragons willing to bond had taken flight. And I was itching to get back to the dorms and take a shower. Even though it was starting to get cooler, standing in the sun for most of the day in black flight leathers was not ideal.

There was only a few dragons left to come back. With how full the first year side was, I’d hazard a guess at twenty still yet to return. But as my gaze sweeps over the first years in front of us, I can’t help but notice someone missing from Xaden’s squad. The only one missing from his squad. The one everyone was so sure would be one of the first ones back. But she was nowhere to be seen. I lift my gaze, scanning the horizon for any glimpse of blue scales, or that damn brown hair of hers that reminded me of chocolate.

Hot air fans over me as Chradh chuckles behind me. “For someone so adamant they don’t harbour any feelings towards her, you do seem to be making some interesting notes about her apperance.”

I turn my head to glare at him, and want to punch the smug look he has on his face as he stares down at me. “I don’t have any feelings for her. I hate her. Despise her. She means nothing to me.”

”Right. So what do I get when I say I told you so?”

I roll my eyes at him before turning my head back around to scan the horizon, catching Xaden looking at me with a smug look similar to Chradh’s.

”What?” I snap at him.

He chuckles before shaking his head at me. “Oh nothing, it’s just hilarious watching you constantly watching the horizon. Especially considering all your squad is back and safe.”

”Just curious to see who else comes back.” I tell him sternly, not wanting to deal with him also pushing my buttons over her.

”Sure, and that’s why your gaze keeps flickering to my squad. My squad which is only missing one member.” He says smuggly as he continues to smirk at me.

I swear between him, Bodhi, Imogen and Chradh I was going to snap and punch one of them soon. Any time I was near her or briefly looked in her direction they would make a comment. A comment that wasn’t necessary. She meant nothing to me. She was the daughter of our enemy.

”I know what you’re implying. I’m not looking for her, I couldn’t careless if she makes it back alive or not.” I tell him, my heart rate slightly picking up with the thought of her not coming back.

No. I did not care about her. Didn’t care if she made it back alive or dead. Though part of me wishes it was another Aetos we were waiting to come back. Across the field stood Dain with his newly acquired red dragon, looking way too happy with himself.

”Well good, because if you don’t care she’s back.” He says with a shrug.

My head snaps upwards at his words, and sure enough flying towards us is a large sapphire blue dragon. It’s size definitely rivalling that of Sgaeyl’s. Something I’m definitely sure she doesn’t like as she huffs and turns her head. I already know who sits atop its back as it lands, but I can’t help but look to confirm. Her familiar brown her catching the light as she jumps from his back.

As she turns around to start her walk down to the roll keeper I can’t help the anger that simmers through me at the blood that stains her face and some of her neck. My hands balling into fists at my side. There is no denying the blood is hers, most likely from her nose. It doesn’t look to be broken, but she has started to bruise. My face must giveaway my anger as she glares at me when her eyes meet mine before turning away from Xaden and I.

”You look like you want to murder someone for the blood she has on her.” He drawls next to me.

”I do not. I’m fine.” I snap back a little too aggressively as I unclench my fists.

”I’ve seen corpses more fine than you are right now.” He mutters sarcastically from next to me.

I roll my eyes at him before turning my head to the front where she joins the line waiting for the roll keeper. As she takes her place the Colonel stands from his seat, moving to stand just behind the roll keeper. Even from here I can see her shoulders tense as she watches him. That was definitely not a normal for reaction someone should have towards a parent. Hell we’d watched him walk towards Dain afterwards and clap him on the back and congratulating him. But this was different. Very different.

She takes her place in front of the roll keeper, ready to give the name of the large dragon in front of me. I can’t hear her, but I know when she says his name. The Colonels face shifting into one of pure anger and hatred. A far cry from the way he had looked at Dain when he had told his dragons name. As she turns and walks away I can see the smirk on her face, clearly proud of whatever blow she has dealt her father. Only solidifying Bodhi’s words of her knowing her dragon. Because it is clear her father also knows this dragon, and as I look over at Dain I know he does to. This dragon meant something to all of them.

I hear Xaden suck in a sharp breath and turn my gaze back to her to see the Colonel marching towards her and grabbing her by the arm to turn her back to him. I involuntarily step forward, ready to stalk down to her before a hand clamps onto my own arm. All I can do is stand there and watch as we watch whatever it is unfolds. And clearly we’re the only ones who are watching this go down as no one else turns to watch them.

She finally manages to get her arm out of his grip, stepping back to put distance between them. He quickly goes to close it again, but his head snaps up as something moves out of the corner of my eye. The blue dragon she has now bonded steps out of formation and moves to the middle of the field, eyeing off the Colonel that is clearly threatening his rider. With a fleeting glare at his daughter, he turns and makes his way back to his heat.

”Well that was fucking interesting.” Xaden utters next to me as the whole flight field looks between Dahlia and her dragon.

I nod my head in agreeance as I watch her make her way back to her dragon, not sparing a glance at anyone. She was fucking interesting for sure. And she was definitely starting to prove me wrong in more ways than one.

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness

[anangelinthepit]

Without You…

Part 4

Warning ⚠️ - possessive behavior and break in. Uncomfortable topics

************************************************

Noah’s POV

“Oh Ruby, you forgot who you were married to didn’t you ?”

I pushed the guys off of me and let out a frustrated yell. Even though I’m pissed off, I couldn’t help but begin to laugh. One man with all my power doesn’t take losing control gently and welcomes the sweet insanity that follows.

“My wife,” I said looking up at the old broken down building she resided in.

“MY WIFE. The one who is carrying MY son threw me out of her house. This isn’t fucking happening. IM THE ONE WHO CALLS THE FUCKING SHOTS AROUND THIS BITCH.”

After punching the brick wall and kicking over trash cans, the voice of reason began to try and calm my anger.

“Dude, what the fuck was that?” Nick said in a demanding tone

“A conversation between me and the Mrs,” I said lighting a cigarette

“Noah she’s fucking six months pregnant, what were you planning on doing?”

“Oh please, I wasn’t gonna put my hands on her, but she needs to remember who fucking makes the rules around here. Nick, she shouldn’t be in this shady ass fucking apartment with some bitch she barely knows. I didn’t even have to get rid of her forcefully she was willing to run off and sleep with you. What does that tell you ?”

“It tells me that you’ve gone fucking insane and need to rethink what just happened. The woman you love fears you and doesn’t want anything to do with you. Do you have any idea what it takes to stand up to a person like you?”

“Person like me? I’m her fucking husband! She should obey and respect me!”

“You should be fucking thankful you had a woman like her Noah! Whatever happened to be calm or did that just fly out the fucking window?” Nick said crossing his arms

“I tried that Nick, but it seems like my wife forgot that I’m the only one in the relationship who is supposed to have a set of fucking balls!”

“Dude I may be your henchman but I’m also your best friend and I’m telling you this because I care about you. What you did in there just pushed her even further away. You are going to push her into the wrong fucking arms. She is to the point where the only way you’re going to get her back now is if you force her.”

I looked up at Nick and smiled at him. It’s almost like he read my mind.

“Force?” I said to myself

Feeling a sensation of happiness l and pure heat come over me, I gave myself a friendly and encouraging reminder.

I’m the strongest man in fucking California right now. Why didn’t I think of this before? I’ve got all the money, power, and men to control a fucking army. What is stopping me from bringing my wife home?

“No. NO. Noah don’t you fucking dare.” Nick said glaring at me, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Call up Davis and tell him to meet us at the hotel. Ruby is coming home.” I said flicking my cigarette.

“I really gotta watch my fucking words from now on.”

We made our way back to the hotel with Davis and Matt waiting. The only thing I could think about was how my wife was gonna be begging for me to let her come home after all of this. She'll be at my feet, asking for my forgiveness. Of course, I'll have to play hard to get but the least I can do is give in a little.

“You got the blueprints of the building Davis?”

“No, but you’re not gonna need them. This building only has two exits and get this, Sapphire is 1 of 4 other tenants. The damn place is so old you could pull apart the bricks piece by piece.”

“That's it?”

“Yup”

“So what’s the plan here boss?” Matt asked

I took a deep breath and contemplated on if this was a good idea. As much as I hate causing her so much discomfort, this is my only option. I’ll change my ways but first, she needs to come back home to me. She doesn’t understand how much I truly need her, and if she could just stop being stubborn and open her fucking eyes she would see that.

If she won’t come home willing then I’m gonna show her how scary the world is without me there to protect her.

“In two days you guys are going to pay Y/N a visit.”

“What kind of visit?” Nick asked

“You’ll see.”

Nick got up and walked away in disgust. I don't know what his problem is lately but he's turning soft on me. I'm gonna need him to toughen up a bit if he wants to stick with this family.

“Davis go fucking talk to him. I don't have time to give the princess treatment right now.”

Davis grunted and went outside to catch up with Nick. I don't have time for his emotional bullshit. Right now I need to get my Ruby back home and make sure she stays there. Permanently

Nick's POV

“He doesn't fucking deserve her goddamit!”

I yelled throwing a trash can and kicking the remnants that fell. God if only he fucking knew. Does he not understand? He had a good woman next to him and he gave it up for all this bullshit. I lit a cigarette and tried to calm my nerves while Davis came out and asked me if I was okay.

“I'm fine dude I just need a minute.”

“Well, Noah told me to tell you to toughen up.

I laughed at what Davis said, it's so obvious that Noah is wrapped in his world and doesn't have time to be gentle in nurturing anyone. How is that man going to take care of a baby? Y/N was smart to run.

“He doesn't deserve her Davis. You know it and I know it.”

“It's not my business Nick. I work for the man.”

“This can't be happening,” I said dragging my fingers through my hair

“I do know one thing though, if you keep running your mouth and don't control that serpent that's in your pants, He's gonna make me cut it off and force you to watch..”

I couldn't help but scoff at him.

“You know don’t you?” I asked

“Seriously? Are you trying to get me killed too? If I admit what I know then we’re both in deep shit. I don’t like the way he treats her either but overstepping boundaries with him is not something I have the balls to do. I don’t think you realize you dug your own grave, Nick.”

I looked up at the sky for answers but as always received nothing. Did I make a mistake? What am I gonna do when he finds out and will I be able to handle him?

“I don’t know if I can pretend anymore.”

“Look dude, fake it till you make it. Fuck some other girl or smoke some weed. I don't care, just figure it out. Also, don't make me a fucking accomplice to whatever Lifetime movie bullshit you got going on. Got it?”

I flicked my cigarette and went back inside. I’m gonna have to keep this bullshit cover-up for a little while longer, and even though it kills me, I’m willing to do it.

I’m willing to do anything for her.

Noah and Matt were talking but stood abruptly and stared at me when I walked into the room. I’ll play my card right and keep the poker face that I’m so good at having on.

“I'm ready for whatever you need me for Boss.”

Noah shot me a smirk and waved me over. Hearing them talk over the plan made my gut turn, but having to agree with it was even worse.

Poison on my fucking tongue

Two days later

Y/N’s POV

I’m still feeling shaken up about what happened. I couldn't focus at work and Sapphire began to notice I was dwelling on how things needed between Noah and me. I’ve never seen him get so angry at me, now of course we had our fights but what I witnessed was what I can only consider as maximum rage. I used to think he would never lay his hands on me but him flipping that table the way he did now has me second-guessing. Six months pregnant and he almost put me in harm's way.

“You’re fucking mine!”

“I'm not his fucking wife, I'm his goddamn property,” I said to myself shaking my head. Why the hell did I ever agree to this?

The moonlight shined down on me after another shitty night at the bar. I waved goodbye to my boss and made the drive home. Still feeling on edge I got to the apartment and was met once again with silence. I began to get nervous as I called out for Sapphire, I heard nothing until I went towards her room and could hear her shower running. Having a wave of relief come over me, I went into my room and tried to wind down for the night. Sitting down on the bed trying to massage my swollen feet, I realized skipping out on a shared probably wasn’t in my best interest. I smelled like sweat and unwanted married men's hormones crawling all over me. I let out a huge sigh and made my way to the bathroom when I got a text.

It was from Sapphire

Sapphire

Hey, I met this really cute guy, so I'm gonna chill at his place 2night. Wish me luck ;)

Me

Oh so is that why you're in the shower? Lmfao gurll you do you. Just careful

I smiled and just shook my head at my bestie's promiscuous ways. I figured I should offer her a ride to this guy's house because I don't want her walking and it also gives me an excuse to go get Chinese food. As I made my way to her bedroom door, I received another text.

Sapphire

The shower? Girl I wish, my boss is making me close 2night so I still have another two hours left.

What…

Feeling my heart drop into my fucking stomach, I read over her message about 10 times. I frantically texted her back telling her that someone was in our apartment and what I should do.

Just like in a horror movie with an awful plot. The lights cut out in the fucking apartment, I wanted to scream but was too scared to do so. I slowly began to move away from her door and tried my hardest to make my way back to my bedroom to call the police. I began to back up, trying to not make myself noticeable to whoever was in her room. I could hear the shower water cut off, it was almost like the intruder was listening for my footsteps. I wasn't too far from my room when I heard frantic running in Sapphires. Whoever was in there heard me and was now making it their mission to get me. As my fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, I swiftly turned around to flee, only to be met by a tall figure who was as tough as concrete. Being shoved to the ground I began screaming and crying for them not to hurt me.

“Please, I'm pregnant! Don't hurt me I'm begging you!”

I could hear the men laughing as I struggled to back away from them. Not realizing my surroundings I ended up being backed into the wall.

“MY HUSBAND IS NOAH SEBASTIAN DAVIS, IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ME HE’LL FUCKING KILL ALL OF YOU!”

Even in pitch-black darkness, I could tell that one of the men was only a couple of inches away from my face. I could feel and smell his hot breath in which I almost began to vomit. He put his hand on my stomach and leaned in to whisper in my ear

“Oh, babydoll.”

Those words cut through me like a knife

“I need you to do me a favor okay?”

I could feel something cold and sharp press against my neck and slid down to expose the cleavage under my shirt

“You tell Noah I said Hello, and if he ever lets you go again, I'm just gonna have to keep you.”

They kissed my forehead which caused me to break out into a cold sweat. God his lips felt dirty and unpure.

“Let's go boys!”

I heard what sounded like 4-5 men walk away from me and go towards my front door. My theory was confirmed when the hallway light shined in illuminating 5 men.

Before closing it, the one masked man gave me the “hush” sign and a creepy smile.

I lay there on the dirty hard wooden floor sobbing and falling apart. Making myself have enough courage and energy to get up and grab the phone. I dialed frantically and prayed he would pick up.

“Ruby?”

“Noah? Oh, thank God. Please listen to me, you have to come get me.

“Ruby, what happened?

“These. These m-men broke into my apartment and shoved me down for the g-ground.”

“Ruby slow down I can't understand you.”

I was shaking uncontrollably but I needed to pull myself together. I took a deep breath brought the phone back up to my ear and explained what happened.

“Noah I think there's a Rival group because they told me to tell you, that they're watching and if you let me go again they're gonna kidnap me. Noah Im so fucking scared please come get me!”

I fell back into hysterics and just wanted my husband. He's a fucking psycho but at least no one messed with me when I was with him.

“Are you and the baby okay?”

“Yes yes, Theo and I are fine. They just shoved me, I was able to catch myself so it wasn't so hard. Just please come get us.”

I heard nothing but silence on the phone. What the fcuk did he hang up on me? God if I can’t rely on him anymore then please protect me and my baby.

“Noah?”

“Do you finally get it, Ruby?”

“What?”

“I said do you finally get it?”

“Baby please stop, just come get me. Please!”

God, why is he making me beg?

“I can't protect you if you run away and try to be “miss independent”. Your life was always good here. If I come and get you, you better not pull this stunt ever again. There will be security in you 24/7 got it?”

I wanted to protest but the sound of phantom footsteps kept psyching me out. I didn't care anymore I just wanted to go home.

“Okay, okay, baby I will never do this again I swear, just please come get us. Noah, I can't do this on my own.”

Noah let out a huge sigh and told me he would be in about 10 minutes. I hurried and gathered my things and waited. Every minute felt like centuries, praying that those monsters wouldn't come back. I got a text from Noah saying he was here and sending Nick up to help me to the car. Oh, why couldn't it have been someone else? I waited for what seemed like forever and started to feel a nervous feeling in the bottom of my gut. I haven't seen Nick in so long, I almost forgot what he looked like. Hearing a pounding on my door, I ran over, took a deep breath, and opened it. I was met with long black hair, beautiful green eyes, and a warm smile that was always so welcoming.

“Nick”

“Y/N”

I don't know what it was but something about his smile made me collapse into his arms and start sobbing. His tight hold on me already made me feel so safe that the thought of letting go hurt.

“I got you, Angel.”

My legs could no longer hold me up and we slid down to the floor together.

“Oh, Nick. Please don't let me go.” I said sobbing into his chest

“You know I have to Angel, he's down there waiting for us.“

Nick caressed my face and made me look at him.

“Be my strong girl for me one more time, okay?

“Okay.”

Nick helped me up and walked me down to the limo. Jolly was waiting for me outside the vehicle and opened the door for me when I closed enough. I got in and could feel the tension in the air once again. Noah sat across from me with an evil look on his face. I'm not sure what I was expecting but this wasn't it. We began to drive and were only 10 minutes away from the house. I couldn't wait to shower and sleep in my bed again. I knew I wouldn't be let off so easily with this, I looked away from the window and saw that Noah was glaring at me while Nick was still facing the other way. I broke the silence and spoke which I should have known was a mistake.

“Thank you.”

Noah leaned forward and said, in a low deep growl.

“Get on your knees”

“Pardon?”

Nick snapped out of his trance and tried to grasp the situation.

“Noah she's six months pregnant, don't do this right now,” Nick begged

“Stay the fuck out of this Nick.” Noah snapped

“I said on your knees, Ruby”

I did as I was told, and got on the limo floor gently going down in my knees.

Noah yanked my chin upward forcing me to look him in the eyes.

“This is how obedient you are going to be from now on. Understand?”

I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.

“Yes”

“Get the hell up and sit there. We will talk more when we get back to the house.”

I got back up in the seat and wiped my tears. How is it that I trade one evil for another? I can't keep doing this anymore, I started to regret my decision but now it's too late. I looked over at Nick who was having a stare-down with Noah. I wish he would just look at me and not trouble the waters that we got ourselves into.

I need him right now and I don’t know how much longer I will be able to play pretend.

**********************************************

Hey guys, sorry it took so long. This story really had me wondering what I should do with. I hope you all enjoyed. Love you dearly

-Magenta 🌹

Taglist

@reyadawn @bloodylullaby @fadingintothegrey @aubrey-melinoe @supersquirrel1996 @thisbicc @amelia-acero @dreamstyles @ashdreamsalone @iluvmewwwww75 @lma1986 @concreteemo

[cerisemerald]

One and only — Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: She has been loving Thomas for a while now, and it is heaving on her the fact she thinks he still is in love with Grace — she needs a confession, a affirmation that she is not just filling in a gap. It comes in a unexpected night, followed by an unusual morning, but everything with Thomas was like that.

MUSIC: One and only by Adele

A/N: this is the second fic I am reposting from my old account (I accidentally deleted it) and it was from one of my celebrations (200 followers I think) that consisted of fanfics inspired by Adele’s songs from the album 21, this one was requested by a dear friend and it is very dear to me!! It happens between s1-s2, Thomas meets (Y/N) after grace leaves. Feedback is always welcomed!

WARNINGS: English is not my first language.

WORD COUNT: 5,477

[MASTERLIST] [MOODBOARD]

(divider credit is for @cafekitsune)

“Thomas,” she calls, staring at his back, but he doesn't answer, he continues to look at the field in front of them instead. “Thomas?”

“Hm?” He still doesn't look at her.

(Y/N) decides to finally walk to him, she does not stop in front of him though, sensing something was wrong and not wanting to disturb or annoy him somehow. She stops right behind Thomas, a step of distance between them, from this close she can see the tension in his shoulders better, and as much as she wishes to touch him and try to tranquillise him, she waits. He doesn't do anything, however, not even looks at her, and she sighs.

She looks at the field, too, trying to understand what is possibly happening in his head. But she has a strong guess, one she does not like at all. (Y/N) hates when Thomas lives more in his past than in his present life, for her, it was his biggest flaw; the way he was constantly living for memories and not for life itself. And she feels that now he is probably thinking about what happened two years ago, Grace.

(Y/N) does not care he is thinking of her, that she can understand, after all he did fall in love with her, it would not be easy, especially for Thomas who protected himself with so many walls, to forget the woman. She doesn't expect him to just stop thinking about Grace overnight, but it did hurt, sometimes, how it felt, as if she was living in the shadows of someone bigger than her. It had been Grace's mistake, but she was the one paying for it, paying for the mistakes of a woman she hadn't even met.

She also knew, of course, that it would take Thomas time to trust again, to open himself like he had before. She knew everything that revolved around a broken heart, she did, but knowing did not make anything easier to deal with. It was still hard to face Tommy and see how, even in his most present moments, a piece of him was lost. Sometimes, she would ask herself why she even stayed, when it seemed like Thomas would never love her the same way. But she did, returned to him every single time, hope, maybe, tying her to him.

“Tom, why’d you bring me here?”

Thomas had showed up in her house last night, surprising (Y/N) in the middle of the week. It was not how their encounters usually went, Thomas would see her mostly on weekends. Sometimes he would spend the night, sleep with her to leave only on Sunday morning, sometimes stay up until four pm, these nights they would dance in her kitchen while drinking whiskey. It was all simple, but what mattered was that they talked, that they would sit down to talk and would sooth each other. Everything between them was simple, even love, when it came to their realisations that they were in love. There hadn't been a confession, not from her nor from him, they had just looked at each other differently, held each other for longer, kissed with more passion than ever, and that was enough to understand.

But yesterday was very different. She could not understand what was happening, neither read it on his face. As soon as she opened the door, he was tense, eyes haunted — not like tiredness from work or exhaustion because of all his problems, but as if he had just heard terrible news and saw his world crumbling. When she greeted him with a kiss, he had not held her waist or face, and had returned the kiss distantly. Still, she breathed and let him in, hoping that she might help somehow. He didn't talk much, short answers only, but it was like he needed the attention, needed her to listen to him, so she did. After sometime, she had run out of ideas to console him and offered for them to share a meal together, and for the first time since they had known each other, he ate something. Almost unnerving, but she was so relieved that she chose to see that as a good sign. After that, Thomas just sat in silence while she cleaned the plates.

When (Y/N) finished, she turned around to see he was sitting still at the table, eyes closed, breathing like he was trying to control himself. She couldn’t tell if he was trying to hold back tears or a scream, whatever it was, it was consuming him, drowning him in anguish. (Y/N) moved slowly, getting closer to him and delicately grabbing his hand. Then she whispered his name like a secret, like she was afraid of being caught saying that, because, in truth, she wasn’t sure if she wanted Tommy to hear it or not.

But Thomas did, and he squeezed her hand like his life depended on it, returning the touch with such a force it took her aback. It was not like he never touched her, or that he didn’t show any sign of affection such as holding her hand, but that touch was different. It was acid, burning (Y/N)'s skin in seconds and leaving a million scars behind. Thomas touched her like she was the only one capable of saving him.

It was scary. It was exhilarating. It was a breath of heaven’s pure oxygen. It was suffocating as the smoke on a fire. And it was only a touch of hand.

But it said so many things, it said that he wanted her there, that he actually needed her there. And she was happy with being wanted, but being needed was something she could not even describe, it was overwhelming. It took (Y/N)’s breath away. It made her forget everything else she needed to do, because Thomas was there, all of him, in her kitchen, holding her hand and asking her to be there for him.

With care, she walked until she was behind him, her arms adjusting perfectly in his neck, allowing his head to find a rest in her belly, it was not often Thomas would let her be the one embracing him. Usually, he would be more vulnerable after they would have an entire night together, and he would lay down between her legs and relax on her chest while she caressed him. (Y/N) started to caress his hair, gently as she could, and she noticed that with time, Thomas was melting to her touch, a small smile grew on her lips, but she kept quiet. It was the first time she felt like she could have every single piece of him with her. He sighed as she took some strands of his face, inclining his head even more.

Thomas opened his eyes suddenly, and because of his moving, they were now staring right at each other. Her heart sank with what she could see, his eyes were dark and tired, hurt. Still, she didn't say anything, knowing it had to be him the one to initiate any type of conversation about what was happening, she only kept caressing his hair. After some seconds, he reached for her left hand and kissed it, making her smile again, he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, and she understood that it was his way of saying thank you. And, in a way, showing that he liked being near her like that. Although he seemed more calm, it didn't look like he would talk, and it was obvious how tired he was, so instead of asking anything, (Y/N) offered for them to sleep. He nodded, and they were quick to go to bed, a simple, but genuine kiss as a good night.

In the morning, he had all of a sudden woken her up with kisses on her neck — like last night hadn’t been so different, saying he wanted to take her somewhere. And yet, even though it was his idea to bring her, he hadn’t spoken since they got in here.

“I haven't come here in a long time.” He finally says something, making (Y/N) stare at him again. “My father…” Thomas takes a time to complete his sentence, “my father used to bring us here, sometimes, I hunted with him one day.”

“Hunted what?”

“A deer,” Thomas smirks, finally directing his look at her.

“You still didn’t answer me.” Thomas smirks only grows bigger at her words. “Why did you bring me here, Thomas?”

He keeps staring at her, she can’t tell everything he is thinking, but that he wants to say something and the words are hard to say, she is sure.

“I don’t know.” He confesses, and (Y/N) could have believed it if it wasn't for the hint of doubt in his tone, as if he didn't want to tell all the truth, but at the same time, didn't know all of it too.

She breathes deeply, she is trying really hard to understand him, she has been for quite some time, but he never truly gives her the chance. “It's that so?”

Thomas and her stare at each other for long seconds, it's not a battle this time, it's not her trying to reach him and him running away, (Y/N) feels as if she is already inside, but can't see what it is, and how could she? When he showed nothing before. She is not sure how to navigate this, what to search, what to ask, not this time, and that scares and frustrates her in equal amounts.

Thomas has these eyes that always make her feel naked, confused and alive. He sometimes looks at her like she is precious, like he cannot go a second without touching her, and she believes it, because his eyes are true, raw even. And then, he could look at her the way he is doing now, like she has just stabbed him, as if she has his heart in her hands to do whatever she wanted, and she decided to make him suffer. It wasn’t true, and it wasn’t fair, she didn’t have him like that, so why would he stare at her with all that devotion and agony?

She chuckles, lowly and dryly, and starts to walk, leaving him behind. (Y/N) doesn't know exactly what she is feeling at the moment, but everything is a little too much. She doesn't want to have to guess, it would be nice, for once, if he could finally say it out loud.

Stopping a few steps away from him, she finally takes a better look at everything in front of her, how beautiful that field is, how breathtaking the view of the sky is with no pollution from the city. The sun hadn’t completely risen yet, some shades of purple, pink, and orange decorated the sky. It looks just like a painting, she thinks, and it hurts a bit to realise that it would be a pretty day to feel good, for her and Tommy to be doing something enjoyable.

What bothers most is that it feels like there is just one last wall between them, and she had thought she would finally have him — but it's not simple, it never is. Thomas has to be the one to take that last step, he has to be the one to, at last, face what he is feeling. If she is the one to do it, to once again try to put pieces together to understand him, it will never change, he will only come home broken and expects mending. She wants more than that, she wants genuine words being said, wants to feel more than… a fragment.

She was afraid sometimes, what if the problem was not his past love, but her? Understanding that old feelings were hard to get rid of was easy, but to which point was Thomas protecting himself from any new feelings? Did it ever become a protection against her? (Y/N) would ask herself, what was he so afraid of? Afraid of having feelings for someone again? Or was he just afraid of… her? It scared her that maybe it wasn’t love and it’s disappointments that kept them apart, maybe it was her. And that she couldn’t fix.

She kicks some rocks by her feet and holds back another frustrated sigh, feeling like maybe she wasn't being fair, that her previous insecurities and frustrations might be influencing her. (Y/N) was trying so hard, to be seen, to be heard, to be loved. Because she loved him, honestly and easily, but had she not done this before? Tried to communicate, to understand? With others that now seem pale in comparison with Thomas, but still, love was a complicated thing. For her, it had always been, since the very beginning, since she had known what love was. It was not just Thomas, no, it would be unfair to say it was only him, perhaps she also needed time to deal with what was inside her. Yet she can't help to think it is different with him, there were others before, but he is the one that matters, he is the one she wants close at all times, the one she still stays close to even with all the hurt and words unsaid, waiting, wishing.

It was Tommy, after all, making her heart feel full and empty at the same time, occupying her thoughts, making her feel like things could get better someday.

If she just had the chance to properly talk to him… to cross all the bridges and understand, maybe then a conclusion would be made, one not based on assumptions she could not fully trust.

Nevertheless, here they are, turbulent thoughts clouding each one's mind. The surroundings are beautiful, the wind making leaves float in the air, both of them with their mouths clasped shut and minds running wild.

She can't see it, Thomas thinks, this time she doesn't seem to see the truth in his eyes. He notices the way she is shrinking inside herself, body almost crumbling, and he walks to her, he is tense when he hugs her from behind, arms keeping her in a tight embrace. Thomas knows she is fighting back tears by the way she lets herself go and relaxes her head against his chest as soon as he pulls her in. He can feel the way her body is fighting, half of her not willing to rest completely.

He never truly knows what to say, he did when he was with Grace, or almost always did, a clarity coming to him when he was about to do something stupid. With (Y/N) it is different, he knows how he feels, and she says the right thing, and he lets her read him, and they go on. Sometimes he has to say it, because she is tired, because she needs him to, or simply because he feels the urge to. But now it feels like they have reached a point that if Thomas keeps being silent, things will end.

Still, for a while they just stay in silence. Thomas keeps his touch steady, not entirely conscious that he is drawing patterns on her waist until she lets out a sigh that he recognises quickly by now, contentment, he can feel her relaxing a bit more. His hands wander a bit further, tracing her belly and up her chest, and as he remembers the night they met, his touch becomes heavier. For what felt like an eternity, he had wished to touch her. It was quick, she'd always say, how they met and how they ended up in a private room. She was not aware that for him, it had felt like a long waiting.

A party that he meant to go for business only, not even much interested in said business, at least not enough to try to do it in person, he had sent John to do it, but he got sick. Never before had Thomas been so happy with his brother being ill. Had he never gone to that party, he would not have met her. And it was a truth, even though he did not say it much, but a truth nonetheless, that since they met, she was constantly taking him out of his stupor. Since he had laid his eyes on her, he felt it, hands pulling him up, making him finally blink and wake up.

It was simple between them, it had been since the beginning, he had wanted her and there was no room for questioning if he would follow her, she had corresponded in the same intensity. Slowly their lives came in between, the days apart, the reality of each one, but even then, she only told Thomas she would be waiting, and there was no room for questioning if he would come back.

On the weeks with fewer visits from him, nothing changed, on the weeks he could see her more frequently, everything did.

Although his ghosts still haunted him, it was not the same as before, he could breathe now, push them away easier. But he had never been good with words when it came to this. To confess, he used words to get what he wanted, to conquer, long gone was the time words served as a way to connect and open himself. Grace had started to change that, easily as if she was a childhood love, she had picked up his heart on her hands. Thomas had not expected it, and when it hit him, he realised how truly in love he had been. For once his intuition had left him, after such a long time creating walls upon walls, they crumbled only to have to be raised again. He had also not expected it to change, to meet someone else, and yet, he did.

“What are you thinking?” She asks, head still resting against him.

“You.”

“You are thinking about me?” He can hear the small smile on her lips.

“Yes.”

“What about me?”

“The night we met.”

“Oh.” She chuckles, as if something suddenly made sense to her. “You were so pretty that night.”

Thomas holds back a smile, like he usually does when she says something like this. “I’d say you were more.”

(Y/N) laughs and turns to look at him, distancing herself enough so they could stare, he is relieved to see there are no tears in her eyes. “I was, but it didn’t last long after I met you.”

Her arms find a place on his shoulders as she hugs him, hiding her face on the crock of his neck. She radiates warmth, and Thomas welcomes it eagerly.

“It wasn’t all my fault.” Thomas says, dead serious, because sometimes she seems to forget they burn together, and she laughs again.

He feels when her body changes after a few moments, her breathing getting erratic, he prepares himself.

“Tom?” It's nothing more than a whisper.

“Yes.”

“I’ve been thinking, and…” something in him is begging for him to interrupt her, he knows what is coming, he can feel it. “I think we should, you know, stop seeing each other.”

He stays quiet, his arms never leave her body.

“Why?”

She takes a long time to answer, and Thomas starts to look for words he can say, things he can do to fix whatever needs to be fixed. He knows what it is, but as her silence stretches so much, he wonders if there is something more, if there is more he did and was unaware of it, that isn't hard to imagine. He feels, somehow, the moment she shivers, her arms seem to lose strength, her embrace weakening.

(Y/N) takes a deep breath before speaking,“because… because I feel like I’m Grace’s shadow. I feel like you met me when you were desperately needing someone to replace the emptiness that she left at your heart. It’s not that I’m the same as her, no…” she hides her face even more in his body, “it’s just you wanted someone to make you forget all the pain. And it happened that I was there to be your distraction. And at the beginning, I didn't care. But now, I do.”

She stops, Thomas knows she is fighting back tears, knows that she hates having to say all of this. Then she whispers, “I care because I’m in love with you, and being someone’s shadow for the man I love isn’t my biggest wish.”

What a treacherous path Thomas had walked them into. He could not deny it what he felt in the past was real, what he and Grace had shared was still haunting him, as his deceptions and frustrations always did. He never admitted, but for him, things like that never left his mind, he just pushed them away, kept them hidden. And still, things did not need to be like this, he did not have to act like that. He did… he liked (Y/N), not just that, he loved her even. A small and fragile thing at first, threatening to hurt him, not because it hurt, but because it made him finally move on. But now, a year later, it was not that small any more, he knew what he felt, knew that he searched for her when they were apart. And Thomas had no necessity in comparing what he felt before with what he felt now, he knew it would take time for something like that to happen again — to be true, he had not even thought it would happen again, but it did, it is happening.

Thomas blinks, watching as flowers and leaves were stirred by the wind, a hollow sound surrounding them. There is so much more he probably doesn't know, more things she thinks and has kept to herself.

“You’re not Grace’s shadow.” He says in a whisper, his voice betraying him. It sounds weak, and he wanted to convey how strong his affection is. Nonetheless, he hears her sighing in relief, distancing herself from him a bit, but still not looking at his eyes.

“You love her Tom,” (Y/N) states, “you’re still deeply in love with her and all you lived by her side. If I’m not her shadow, then I’m a mere ghost of what she was.” She raises her eyes to his face, he is already staring, always staring at her.

She looks at him with so much resignation that Thomas is almost convinced he cannot change her mind.

“I’m not angry or mad or upset about this. I’m just sad.” She says it then, voice low, Thomas knows it is because she is holding tears back. “And it doesn’t matter how much I love you, I don’t want to be sad, to feel miserable every time I don’t act like someone I don't even know. I just don’t want that life for me, even if that means losing you.”

He looks away, not being able to stare at her eyes at the moment, not when he doesn't have the right words to say. It was not his intention for it to reach this point, for her to think he wants a copy of Grace. He knows he has to say it, explain himself, but it is like being paralysed. It's the kiss on his cheek that makes him finally blink, it is the way her lips are so delicate against his skin, a goodbye. She leaves his arms, turning around to go back to the car, but he holds her wrist immediately, (Y/N) stops, looking at him with knitted eyebrows.

Thomas takes in all of her at that moment, the determination clear in her eyes, eyes he has grown so accustomed to, that do not search him unless he opens himself, eyes that love him, tender him. Eyes that he cannot forget even when she is not with him. He looks at her lips, lips that have said the words he needed to hear, the ones he did not want to hear, lips that have kissed him with so much passion that he was able to forget the world for some hours. She has, slowly, found a place inside of him, roots with her name overtaking his chest. Her hair flutters around her face, she seems tired, (Y/N) offers no more resistance on her face, only resignation, but she does not pull away either. He engraves every single detail of her in his mind.

The words are not helping him, he cannot think of anything good enough to say, it is like she wiped his mind, leaving nothing but thousands of pictures of her behind. Of every moment she has used her words not to pry him open, but to convince him to do so, every moment she has held him in place instead of insisting on dragging him somewhere else.

It was at the moment, the sun shining brightly, orange light taking over the sky, making her skin seem warm to the touch, that he finally realised. It had always been simple between them, he did not need to complicate it right now, there was no need for elaborate words, only the truth. She wanted something straight-forward, (Y/N) was just asking for it to be real.

“I don’t want her,” Thomas says, words finally appearing. “I don’t want her like I want you. Not any more.”

And it was true, he had loved Grace, had felt something he thought himself incapable of after the war, and yet, it passed. She had betrayed him, and he still felt it then, sometimes still feels it now, but it passed.

She gives a step forward, “but you still love her, right?”

He allows himself to remember Grace's face, her tender touch, it was involuntary, the care that comes with it. But there is also the pang of heartbreak, the understanding and the sense of finality, there is nothing he can do to go back in time, and now, he does not want it any more. He has (Y/N), she mended what was broken. He takes a step towards her as well, hand tightening even more around her wrist, he wants her now more than he ever did.

“Yes.” he admits, because it is also true that (Y/N) can wring secrets from him. “But she’s past.”

“Is she, Tom?” She gives in a deep breath, “if that’s so, you’re a man living your days in the past. You’re always with her, even when you try to be here with me.”

“No.” he denies, low and firm, “It’s not me living in the past, (Y/N).”

“What is it then?”

He wants to say it at that moment, to confess she haunts him, that his past always does — who he was before war, who he became during it. It is a part of him now. But that is not his nature any more, to confess this easily, it takes time, and he has said more today than he ever did before. Instead, he looks at her, knowing that when nothing comes out of his mouth, that it's what denounces him, his eyes.

She reads him again. Thomas knows, he always knows when she understands. Maybe it is the look on her face, he has never been able to identify what it was, but something changed when she could get him.

“I know it ain't easy,” (Y/N) says, getting closer to him, she puts a hand on his face, “it seems to haunt you, Thomas.”

She is close now, enough that he can feel the warmth of her body again. Thomas lets himself relax against her, his hand still on her wrist, he can feel her pulse now, slightly accelerated.

“I feel left out sometimes,” she whispers, “as if she is right behind me, and I am echoing her words, or at least the words you wanted her to say.”

Thomas nods, “you are not like her.”

(Y/N) seems surprised at that, “what was she like?”

But that is too much. “You are different,” he establishes, firm enough for her to understand he does not want to talk about Grace like that. It's easier to just forget, sharing this feels strange, describing how he loved her — because it would not be just an impartial view of how she was. “And your words too, you do not echo her in my mind.”

You fixed it. Erased what hurt was left on the surface.

(Y/N) squint her eyes at him, he lets her stare into his eyes, lets her understand.

“If we…” she cleans her throat, “if you try, could this work?”

He bites his tongue to say that is already working, because yes, for him, it is, but she is opening herself to him and saying she is hurting.

“What do you want?” He asks, instead.

“You.” (Y/N) shrugs, “I know we can't be each other one and only. But it would be good if you opened yourself more, I cannot always read your mind.”

He must've frowned at that, because she immediately completes, “I know it's different for you, how you open up. I sometimes wish for words, it's true, but it is not what you can give me and I know that.” And although she understood it wrong — he was just surprised when she said she could not always read him —, he was happy to hear that.

Thomas puts a hand on her waist, pulling her and closing the distance that was left, he can feel her now, that smell that calms him every time they sleep together, he tightens his grip. There is not a world where he would refuse this, it is surprising, sometimes even slightly scary and annoying, how she managed to awaken him when he fought so much to numb himself. But he always comes back to her, always knocks on her door, because it is stupidity to refuse her, push her away, only a mad man would do that. He consumes her instead, goes to her house, drinks from her lips with such thirst it is as if he is famished, and it is never enough. Whatever she wants, he thinks, whatever she wants to stay.

She is looking at him with an indecipherable expression, but he cares not at the moment, he will have plenty of time to reflect on everything she said today, to understand her even more. Now, he searches for her lips, brushing his own against her, wanting to feel her before making the real move. He is not one for teasing, every time he does this, it is because the waiting feel as good as the actual kiss, the way he can feel her skin shivering, the way she whimpers slightly — because they are the same when it comes to this, she also has an insatiable hunger. They finally kiss, then, desperate to feel each other, it always feels like they are one at this moment, and nothing else matters.

She is the one to break the kiss, only to look at him and whisper, “I love you.”

Before Thomas can think of answering, her lips are crashing against his again, demanding, taking, and he answers it. He almost chuckles when one of her hands find her way to get under his shirt, but his own body leans into it in such a fast manner he knows he would be laughing at himself too.

Since the first time she touched him like this, he knew he had cursed himself. He knew he would be damned, growing hunger for that, fonder for her. She had scared him, and yet, proved herself to be exactly what he needed.

He broke the kiss this time, not being able to contain the smirk when he saw her drunk eyes, even though he was for sure laughing at himself too.

“I love you.”

She melts against him, smiles brightly. He does not know why he waited so long to say it, but he is usually like this, takes too long to say something important.

“You’re not her.” He finds himself saying, surprising the both of them, “you’re not her shadow.”

She nods, Thomas sees her blooming right in front of him. He feels something settling in his chest, his mind getting quieter, a miracle for its own, but even more special when he feels it because of her.

Please. He thinks as he gives a peck on her lips. Don’t ever say you’re a mere ghost, when I love you this much.

The wind was still stirring the flowers and leaves of the field, and the field was still the same, same as the sun shining in the sky. But somehow, everything seemed more right.

[writtenonreceipts]

Rowaelin Month Day Twenty-One: Performers @rowaelinscourt

Month Masterlist // Hey Neighbor Masterlist // Ao3 Link

It fits the performers prompt because they’re putting on a show of lunacy.  <3

Warnings: just minor medical talk and references to bad hospital experiences right at the beginning, ~2.9k words

Hey, Lucky

Aelin could count on one hand the number of times she’d been in a hospital. 

Two when a grandparent passed away and one when she’d broken her arm.  She hated each and every experience.  Her grandparents’ passing had been traumatic to say the least.  All she could remember was seeing her Papa hooked up to an assortment of tubes and wires to the point that she couldn’t even see his face.  Gran was supposed to come right back out after a surgery to fix her heart…only she never had.  And when Aelin had broken her arm, she’d had to have surgery to resent the limb properly, the meds had made her sick and she couldn’t leave the hospital for over a week. None of the doctors had been nice, either. 

So, yes.  Aelin hated the hospital.

But here she was, sitting in an uncomfortable vinyl chair in a stuffy waiting room and nerves keyed up.  Her knee wouldn’t stop bouncing and she’d already destroyed a paper pamphlet citing the signs of diabetes and the importance of knowing preventative measures.  She’d found it on the side table beside her and, needing something to do with her hands, had folded and refolded the thick cardstock.  It was the only thing keeping her sane.

“You’ve got to eat some real food,” Elide said softly from next to her. 

The pamphlet was plucked from her fingers replaced with a sandwich.

Aelin looked at the sandwich.  It was a simple peanut butter and jelly, but it wasn’t hospital food.  Her stomach roiled.

“I’m fine,” she said.

Elide didn’t look impressed by that statement, but she said nothing else and settled in her seat.

Setting the sandwich aside, Aelin grabbed her phone instead.  She looked at the text thread she’d started with Iona after the news thread of the avalanche.  With the weather and the Whitethorns living one town over, Aelin insisted that she go to the hospital at least until the roads cleared up more.

<<Aelin: No update yet, but the rest of the crew is here now.

She couldn’t help but send the message.  Maybe it would have been better if she had actual news.  It was the nerves, the need to do something.  And she supposed if she were a mother separated from her child she would want to know anything and everything going on.

She leaned back in her seat and took inventory of the waiting room.  It had calmed down quite a bit over the last few hours.  There were other family’s waiting for news, the bad weather brought in many other injuries and messes.  The rest of Rowan’s search and rescue team had also come now that the missing hiker was found.

Fenrys had also been injured, but not as extensive as what happened with Rowan.  He hadn’t been caught in the torrent of snow and ice, only enough to cut off his retreat back down the mountain.  After everything settled, Fenrys had gone in search of Rowan and the lost hiker.  He’d found them and even managed to get a signal for a rescue.  He was being treated for dehydration and a dislocated shoulder.

“Aelin,” Elide insisted, grabbing the phone from her fingers, “I am your emotional support human right now and I need you to eat.”

“You sure you’re not just here for a certain ranger?” Aelin quipped.

Elide glared. “Moral support.”

“Right.”

“I will force that sandwich down your throat,” Elide said.  For such a tiny unassuming woman, she was a bit feral.

Aelin took a savage bite.  It was a tasty sandwich; raspberry jam, creamy peanut butter, and fresh white bread.  Perfection.  She wouldn’t let Elide know though.

After forcing half the sandwich down, Aelin couldn’t stomach any more.  Elide seemed satisfied with her efforts and didn’t say anything when Aelin tucked the remains back in its baggie.

It was another few minutes until a doctor stepped through a pair of double doors that led to the operating rooms.  Aelin leapt from her seat, just as she’d done for every doctor or nurse that stepped through the doors.

“Whitethorn and Moonbeam?” The doctor asked, already walking towards the assembled rangers.

The captain, Gavriel, stepped forward. “How are my men?”

“Fenrys is on an IV and doing fine, he just needs rest,” the doctor said, she smiled reassuringly, “already asking to be released.”

Only a little bit of tension eased out of the rangers.

“And Rowan?” Gavriel pressed.

The doctor, Yrene Towers by her nametag, offered a strained smile that made Aelin’s stomach clench.

“He’s out of surgery,” Dr. Towers said slowly. “His left leg was broken in two different places and needed some titanium screws.  He’s got three broken ribs, a concussion, and severely sprained wrist.  Honestly…he was extremely lucky.”

“But he’s okay?” Aelin asked, “He’ll wake up?”

Dr. Towers’s smile softened, which under normal circumstances would have made Aelin’s hackles rise. “Yes.  Probably within the next hour or so.  You can see him now if you’d like.  He’s in his recovery room now.”

Aelin’s entire body vibrated and it took all her effort not to bolt down the hall.  She was overstepping, she knew she was overstepping.  Right?  Why was she so concerned, so insistent about seeing Rowan?  Especially when his friends and colleagues were right here.  It was ridiculous.

And then, much to her surprise, Lorcan was the one to speak up. “Go make sure Whitethorn doesn’t break out of here prematurely.  We’ll give Moonbeam hell.”

The rangers already started filing towards the ER where Fenrys was holed up.  Lorcan narrowed his eyes slightly while glaring down at Aelin.  She raised an eyebrow in challenge to which the larger man merely shrugged before following his squad mates.

Dr. Towers rested a hand on Aelin’s shoulder. “I’ll take you to Rowan’s room.”

Nodding, Aelin glanced over her shoulder to where Elide still sitting in her chair.  Her friend only waved her on with an encouraging hand.

“Thanks,” Aelin said, turning back to Dr. Towers. “That would be great.”

It was a quick walk to the elevator and trip up to the third floor.  The entire time Dr. Towers continued to talk to Aelin about Rowan.

“I’ve done a lot of trauma work and have seen a lot of tragedies,” Dr. Towers said, “and even though his injuries sound bad, he’s going to be alright.  Just a bit of recovery and physical therapy with his leg.  It’ll be a long road but he can make it.”

They came to a stop outside a room with the blinds drawn up to look in on the sleeping body.  Aelin’s heart skipped a beat as she took in Rowan’s prone form.  Thankfully, he didn’t have a respirator or any tube actually inside his mouth.  His warm skin had taken on an ashen pallor and his usually styled hair lay flat over his brow.  One of his legs was suspended in a sling and wrapped in white bandages.  His injured wrist was also wrapped in similar bandages and resting on his chest.

“Thank-you, doctor,” Aelin said.  She smiled at the woman. “Really.”

“Of course, just let a nurse know if you need anything find a nurse, find me, and we can help.”

With another hand on her shoulder, Dr. Towers headed down the hall to the nurse’s station.

Aelin looked back into Rowan’s room.  Just the sight of him lying there had panic racing through her body.  She didn’t know what to make of all the emotions she was feeling. She didn’t know where they’d come from or what to do with them.  She knew…well she knew she’d been attracted to Rowan for a while now.  Known she’d been willing to flirt with him and see if something more that could happen between them. 

With a steadying breath, Aelin pushed open the door.

The was strangely quiet.  Even with the soft hum of the equipment and steady beat of the heart monitor, there was a stillness occupying the space.  She hated it.

Aelin crossed the room to take a seat in the chair beside the bed.  She debated taking a picture of Rowa to send to Iona.  In the end she decided there was something distinctly creepy about that so she settled on an over simplified text. 

<<Aelin: Sitting with Rowan.  Doctor said he’s doing well.  He’ll need physical therapy for his broken leg and he has a concussion, but she said it’s all going to be fine.

>>Iona: Thank-you dear.  The storms blown over so the roads should be cleared by tomorrow.

That was good. 

Aelin sighed, tucking her phone back into her purse.  She leaned forward, hand hovering over his own.  The action felt strangely intimate.  She withdrew her hand and looked at Rowan’s face.

He appeared peaceful.  Even with the gash on his forehead and the bandage trying to cover the worst of it.  He was paler than Aelin was used to him looking too.  Really, this entire situation was a nightmare.  She wanted to wake up.  Desperately.  She wanted him to wake up and scowl at her.  Wake up and roll his eyes.  Wake up and just be him.

“I am so mad at you right now,” she muttered.  She sat back in her seat scowling at his unconscious form. “You were supposed to be careful and not get hurt, Rowan.  Nox Owen said he’d be dead if it wasn’t for you.  You risked your life up on that mountain and scared the shit out of me.  You’ll be lucky if I forgive you.”

His heart monitor beeped in response.

“And you know, that’s not even the worst of it,” she continued.  Now she was picking at her nails, too upset to actually look at him.  “What’s worse is that I thought there was something more between us.  I thought…Did you even eat those cookies I baked you?”

She glared at him now, still disgruntled over how flat his hair was lying.  It made him look so much younger, soft.  She had to swallow down the lump forming in her throat.

Emotions were the worst.

The literal worst.

Taking a long breath, Aelin straightened.  She leaned forward again and did her best to channel the old Aelin.  The irritated Aelin.  The Aelin who used to have dance parties at two in the morning to rile Rowan up.  The Aelin who tried to trick Rowan into drinking a RedBull.

“You are going to wake-up and you are going to take me on a date,” she said. “Do you hear me buzzard?”

To emphasize her words, she took Rowan’s hand and entwined their fingers.  There was nothing to indicate that he could hear her.  Nothing to indicate he was waking up soon.  Which was fine.  She knew Dr. Towers had said he was fine, that he’d only just gotten out of surgery and wasn’t going to wake up for a while yet.  But she was Aelin Galathynius and she was not patient.

She squeezed his fingers.

“You’re an idiot if you think you can get rid of me that easily,” she added.  Sniffing, she rose from her chair.  She may as well let the other rangers filter through to see their friend.

She tried to pull her fingers from his grasp only to find that his grasp had tightened.  Aelin froze.

“Rowan?” She nearly fell over herself to lean back over Rowan. “Rowan Whitethorn.”

His eyelids fluttered and he took a deep, rattling breath.  His mouth twitched, trying to form a word. 

“Buzzard?”

And then his eyes opened.  Glazed and unfocused but open.  It took a few blinks and then those gloriously green eyes landed on her.

“Fireheart.”

Tears that Aelin hadn’t even known were brewing started pouring down her cheeks.  She raised her other hand to cup his cheek, feeling the stubble there.

“Hi,” she whispered, staring into his eyes, eyes she hadn’t realized she’d missed so much.

“What—” Rowan began, but he tried to move too much of his body at once and broke off with a wince and a curse. “Damned hell, what happened?”

“Lay back and stop moving,” she ordered him.  “You were in an accident; do you remember that?”

Groaning, Rowan actually listened and leaned back into his pillow. “Yeah, yeah I remember.  Nox?  Fen?  They okay?”

“They’re fine,” Aelin assured him.  She ran her thumb over his jaw, refusing to stop touching him for at least a little longer. “Nox had some frostbite and scrapes.  I think I heard he broke his ankle.  Fenrys just got some bruises, he somehow missed the worst of it.”

Rowan’s eyes shuddered closed.  He took a few breaths before looking at Aelin again.

“And are you okay?”

Aelin just stared at him. “I’m not the one who fell down a mountain.  Y’know, I think you’ve got me beat now for doing stupid things with this.”

“I was saving a life, doesn’t count.” His mouth quirked up into a half smile.

Aelin didn’t have a good response to that.  Because really, all she wanted to do was kiss him and call him a fool.

He must have seen something in her eyes because he tried to move.  She had no idea what his intentions were—he was still stiff and loopy from his medication.  Whatever he was trying to do sent a spasm of pain crawling over his features.

“Stop moving,” Aelin insisted. “You’ve got some broken ribs and a broken leg and your wrist is sprained.”

“I—then why does my head hurt?” He asked.

Poor, silly man.

“That would be the concussion.”

Rowan huffed, squeezing his eyes shut.  “Right.”

“You’re in pain,” Aelin said, trying to pull away again. “Let me go get the nurse, they should know you’re awake.”

Shaking his head, Rowan snagged her hand again and tightened his grip. “No.  It’s fine, just stay.”

Aelin didn’t like that.  Not at all.

“You are literally gritting your teeth in pain,” she said.

“Aelin.” Rowan tugged on her hand, his index finger hooking with hers. “I’m fine.”

She ducked her head, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.  She had too many thoughts and emotions rolling inside her, too many things she couldn’t define well enough.  Especially not now. 

“I was really scared, Rowan,” she whispered.  “I saw the newscast of the avalanche and thought—I thought…”

Aelin cut off as another wave of tears clogged her throat.

“Aelin,” Rowan said.  He pushed through the pain that he was so obviously in and pulled on her hand so she had to lean in closer. “I’m sorry.”

That should have dried up any and all tears that Aelin was fight back. “You’re what?  What do you have to be sorry for?  You fell off a cliff.  You broke your leg.  Don’t you dare try and sit up, I will go get a nurse, don’t try me.”

“For the bar, for the cold shoulder,” he said, only partially speaking over her. “For not talking to you.”

Aelin sank down on the side of the hospital bed, careful of any wires or tubes she might disrupt.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “I am still mad at you about that too.”

Rowan, to his credit, looked chagrined. “Sorry.”

Aelin squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to tell me everything, not now anyways, but I—I want to know.”

“My last girlfriend couldn’t handle the job,” Rowan told her, hardly waiting for her to stop speaking. “Not all the calls in, the long trips I’d be gone for, not the potential danger of it all with storms like this one.  She kept showing me other jobs to apply for, telling me to get a real degree at a real college…eventually she told me to make a choice.  So I came to Terrasen.”

That had been almost three years ago at this point, if Aelin did her math correctly.

“It didn’t seem fair to put anyone else through that,” he concluded.

“That doesn’t seem fair,” Aelin said, “not fair of her, not fair to you, to anyone.  Not if you love the job.  Not if your partner loves you.  And it’s not fair of you to make that choice for me, either.”

She brushed away the remnants of her last round of tears.  Heart hammering in her chest, Aelin fixed Rowan with a stare she only reserved for Fleetfoot.  A mix of amused disappointment.  It seemed apt for the Buzzard.

“I like you, Buzzard.  But you can’t keep acting like a fool.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he conceded.

Aelin nodded resolutely and then, before she could lose her nerve, leaned forward and planted a kiss on his forehead.  She thought it perfectly reasonable to leave it at that but then Rowan shifted beneath her and before she could pull back, his mouth collided with hers.

Even drugged up and concussed, Rowan knew how to kiss a woman.  Aelin certainly wasn’t one to pass up on this opportunity.  She kissed him deeply, feeling the spark of something flare in her chest and spread like wildfire through her blood.

Aelin pulled back far sooner than she wanted to, but she knew he was still recovering.

“Took you long enough,” she told him.

“Sorry, had a mountain fall on me.”

“Ass.”  Aelin forced herself to pull away from him for good this time.  She went back to get her phone from her purse. “I need to let your mom know you’re awake.”

Rowan made a strangled noise. “You’re talking to my mother?”

“Mostly just texting right now.  But she did invite me to family dinner next Sunday, so you’ve gotta be out of the hospital for that.”

“We don’t do family dinner.”

“Now we do,” she planted another kiss on his forehead and dialed into FaceTime. “Hi, Iona!  Guess who’s awake!”

.*.*.*.*.

epilogue next

[somethingvicked]

Forget me (not) pt 3

warnings: female reader, talk of memory loss, angst to fluff

You stared at Eddie, your head pounding from the sudden overload of information that just broke through the wall that had been there.

You felt the overwhelming love you had for Eddie, had had for so long. But you also remembered what he had told you, how he had pushed you aside like you were nothing, for Chrissy.

You pulled back, as if he had burned you and Eddie looked at you in panic, like a deer in the headlights.

“Easy, sweetheart, easy…” he started and you suddenly saw red.

“Don’t call me that!” you snapped and he paled. “I’m not your sweetheart any longer, don’t you remember? Because I sure do.”

But at the same time… Eddie had been at your side practically all this time. Why had he? Wasn’t he scared what Chrissy would think?

No, of course he wasn’t. Because he wanted to stay friends with you, he just didn’t want you to have feelings for him. And then you forgot them, a small voice in your head said.

Well, it worked out quite well for him, didn’t it?

You rose to your feet and Eddie quickly did the same, still looking at you like you were some unstable lunatic with a ticking bomb.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you said, your voice tense. “It clearly worked. And so I guess you better go back to Chrissy, since I now remember everything.”

“Wait, no, Y/N, it’s not like that…”

“I’m back to my old self now, Eddie,” you growled at him. “You don’t need to protect me anymore or do your duty as a friend.”

“Sweetheart, me and Chrissy broke up!”

That made you stop dead in your tracks and you turned around. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded, panting as if he was in pain. “About two weeks after… your accident. She didn’t like that I spent all my time with you…”

You hadn’t thought it was possible for you to be more angry at him, but lo and behold!

“Are you saying it’s my fault she dumped you, Munson?!” you screeched, grimacing as the loud sound made your headache worse.

“No!” Eddie all but squeaked, “I… I’m trying to say that… being at your side was all I wanted. What happened… it made me realize… how much you mean to me. And I know I was an idiot, an insensitive dolt, a goddamn jerk! I hate myself for treating you that way and making you feel like you were not the most important person in my life! Always had been.”

By now he was nearly sobbing, tears brimming in his eyes. “When I heard what had happened… you have no idea… I thought you had died. And the last conversation I had with you was that I wished  you forgot everything.”

“And I did,” you said, shaking your head, still angry with him, but his tears and broken puppy eyes had made it go down a little. The fucker, even when he didn’t try he knew how to play you like a fiddle.

“Yes, you did. You didn’t remember me. I know I deserved it. To have you looking at me like I was a stranger, not being allowed to tickle you or carry you on my back… you remembering everyone else, but not me. I deserved that. But Y/N… please believe me when I say that you are the most important person in my life. When you left that day I sat and contemplated who I would miss more if I would never see them again – you or Chrissy. And… me never seeing Chrissy again, it didn’t made that much of a difference. But the thought of being without you, it made me… I felt shattered. I was going to call you, but then they called me and told me what had happened.”

You rubbed your temples. All of this… it was too much for you to handle right now.

“I… I need to go home,” you got out. “Think about all this.”

“I’ll drive you,” Eddie said, but you shook your head. “I want to be alone.”

“I don’t care,” Eddie said with a frown. “I’m not letting you walk home after regaining your memories and had such a shock. What if something happens? No, get in the van. I’ll drive you. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, but you’re not walking.”

A part of you wanted to smile, both at his stubbornness and with how he cared for you. But the rest of you were still so shaky after everything that you just pushed it away.

A little while later you sat in your room, back at your desk with the photo album in front of you. Eddie had kept his promise and not talked to you the whole way home, even though he had glanced over at you at least one time every minute.

Despite having your memory back completely you felt more confused than ever.

Thankfully your mother had gone to the grocery store, thinking you were spending the day with Eddie, so you didn’t have to go through the roller coaster to tell her you were back to normal.

You weren’t sure what to do with Eddie. Remembering how he had treated you when he got together with Chrissy and his reaction when you told him how you felt about him… it made you feel heartbroken all over again but also angry.

And then… then you remembered how he had supported you and stood by you these last weeks, never quitting on you despite you not remembering anything about him, no matter how he had tried.

It felt like your head was about to explode. This was just too big and complicated for you to take on by yourself.

Usually you went to Eddie if you needed advice and talk something out but obviously that was a no go.

You didn’t want to talk to your mother either, it was enough you had to tell her your memory was back – your parents had been through hell, probably more so than you these last couple of weeks, you didn’t want to worry them even more.

After some time of contemplating you decided to call Steve. He was Eddie’s friend, he was your friend, and he knew the history between you two. He seemed like a good choice.

Steve didn’t dawdle, he arrived less than twenty minutes after you hung up. The first thing he did when you opened the door was to give you a big hug.

“I’m so happy your memory is fully recovered,” he told you with a smile. “Although I still would’ve hoped you forgot about me being King Steve forever.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that as you two walked up to your room.

You and Steve sat at the floor on your bedroom, backs leaned against your bed as you told him about the moment when you remembered everything, your reaction to Eddie, and how you felt so lost on what to do now.

Steve was quiet for a moment, running a hand through his hair, clearly deep in thought.

“You know I think what he did to you was really shitty. I seriously could have beaten him up for being so insensitive,” he told you, making you snort.

“But, he did tell me the same story – that even before you crashed into the tree he was imagining his life without you and without Chrissy. It was you that he almost broke down over losing. And this whole time… please forgive me for this, Y/N, but I actually told him that perhaps he should give you some space, do something else when the time went on and you didn’t remember a single thing about him. It was slowly draining him, he… he couldn’t fall asleep without looking at old pictures of you, crying.”

You were shocked. “Really?”

“Yeah. And – let me just say I didn’t exactly agree with that either – but he didn’t even look at Chrissy after your accident. Couldn’t stand to be near her. I think… I think he felt like it was his fault, what had happened to you, because he had been with her.”

“But I didn’t want him to do this because he felt guilty!” you protested.

“That’s what I said too, but he insisted that’s not why. And you know what? I believed him.”

Steve smiled at you and patted your shoulder. “Y/N, love is not easy. Everyone keeps saying it is but it’s really a fucking mess. When I was with Nancy I spray painted the sign of the cinema, calling her a slut. All because I thought she had cheated on me. The first girl I loved and I did that to her.”

You shook your head. You remembered that very clearly. It was before you and Steve became friends but you had still heard about it from the others.

“What I’m saying is… yes, Eddie was a goddamn idiot. But he realized he was and what he did wrong. And he has tried to make it right, and he will keep trying to make it right, if you let him. So… only you can decide whether you want to forgive Eddie or not, Y/N. But… perhaps you should try and do what he did. Try imagining the rest of your life without him. Does that feel like something you would be okay with?”

Your felt your breath hitch and your stomach turn into knots. A life without Eddie? It felt like… like suddenly the same feeling from your memory loss was back. Only now it wasn’t the past you missed but the future. It was only blank.

“No,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Then there’s your answer,” Steve told you softly.

Steve drove you to the trailer park and you walked up to the Munson’s trailer and knocked on the door.

Eddie opened, and you got the feeling of dejá vu from the last time you had come here. But Eddie sure looked different.

He looked as if he had cried, his hair a nest, as if he had ran his fingers through the curls multiple times, his knuckles bruised as if he had punched a wall.

“Y/N?” he wondered in surprise when he saw you.

“Hey,” you said, smiling weakly. “Look, Eddie…”

“Is this the moment where you… you’re going to tell me that you never want to see me again?” Eddie interrupted, his voice trembling, and it honestly broke your heart.

“No,” you told, reaching out a pushing a curl out of his face. “I… I’m still quite angry with you for what you did. But… it feels like this whole thing, what happened… it was some sort of lesson for both of us. A lesson for you to have me forget you. And a lesson for me, how it would feel to have no connection to you. The feeling, when I think back of how it felt, not knowing everything that has happened between us… it was horrible. I don’t want to be without you again, or ever forget you again. Not even the stupid thing you did, even though it makes me want to shake you.”

Eddie let out a gasp and then he all but squished you against him, holding you so hard you were sure you would have bruises.

“Oh, sweetheart…” he whispered, carefully kissing your temple. The bruises were healed but he remembered them all too vividly, kissing every spot where they had been.

“I’m so sorry for what I did. And for how I behaved when I started dating Chrissy. I just… I guess I got caught up with how it felt that someone popular actually wanted me. And in the back of my head I always thought you and I would have more time. I was an idiot, I know that. I will never make that mistake again.”

He inhaled before he continued: “And I’m so sorry that I never realized… that you loved me. I… I wished I had realized it sooner but I didn’t…”

You shushed him. “I know. That’s what I mean, that maybe the accident happening… it was a wake up call for both of us.”

Eddie nodded. “Yes. I’ve always loved you, sweetheart. But it’s more than that. You… you’re my person. The reason why it has never worked out with any other girl. Why I couldn’t see a future with Chrissy. Because you were the one.”

Now it was your turn to blink back tears.

Eddie suddenly pulled something from his pocket. Your eyes widened when you saw it was the dried flower from the scene of the accident.

“I found it in the van, on the passenger seat,” Eddie said. “I want you to have this and save it. As a reminder, that you will never forget me again. And as a promise from me, that I will never forget you’re the only one I want.”

You smiled, and placed the blue Forget-me-not behind your ear.

“The only one?”

“The only one,” Eddie promised, sealing it with a kiss.

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[flower-boi16]

Apology Tour Made Blitz Do The Right Thing for The Wrong Reason

There's a common critique of Apology Tour I've seen regarding Verosika is that the fact that she went out of her way to create an entire annual party dedicated to shitting on her past ex makes her look overly obsessive. While at first glance I can see where this argument is coming from I'd like to disagree.

Blitzo has been frequently established as a fairly destructive person who thanks to his own self-hatred ends up hurting others and pushing them away, the fact that there's this many people in the party shows how destructive of a person Blitzo is, and we see that it's not just limited to his exes, but people in general who he hurt (like Dennis, for instance).

And Verosika is one of Blitz's later victims who Blitz bailed on after she told him she loved him, a very vulnerable moment for someone to be in, and that's the point where Blitz broke her heart. And so she created this party both out of spite for Blitz seeing how much of a horrible person he is and out of sympathy for his many victims who were just as heartbroken by him as she was. She created this party so she could help the people Blitz has hurt cope with what happened and heal from it, creating a sense of community amongst victims.

Apology Tour shows how much Blitzo damages people, how his self-destructive tendencies always end badly for both him AND his victim, leaving his victim broken and making him more broken, the fact there's a whole party made for the sole purpose of helping his victims cope shows that. And Blitz is forced to see how damaging of a person he truly is because of this...or at least, that's the route the episode should have taken.

Apology Tour is an episode with an absolutely fantastic set up with Blitz going to a party where he sees how many people he's damaged and chooses to start becoming a better person, but the problem is HOW the show gets him to see that. The show gets him to start to change himself...through Stolitz.

Blitzo realizes how he hurts others through seeing how he hurt Stolas, who Blitz previously just believed was some classist dick and nothing else only for Stolas to pour his heart out in a musical number, making Blitz realize that Stolas' feelings were genuine all this time and what he was saying to Stolas did, in fact, hurt him...

...at least that's how the writers want you to look at this scene. However, thanks to the general problems with Stolitz writing this development ends up falling flat on its face. The reason for why this development fails despite the perfect set up is because the show is holding Blitz accountable for something he isn't even in the wrong for in the first place. I've ranted about Stolitz many times before but I'll just repeat the same points because it's relevant for my argument here; Blitzo had no reason to ever think that Stolas' love for him was genuine.

Throughout the whole first season, Stolas consistently looked down upon and belittled Blitz, calling him demeaning pet names and always invading his boundaries even when Blitz says no, yet Stolas continues it anyway. YET, the show tries to paint Blitz as biased here because "oh he only hates Stolas for being a royal and is repressing his feelings for Stolas due to self-hatred" or some bullshit.

However, once you factor in the outside context, Blitz never comes across as biased here whenever he rants about Stolas, because he doesn't have a reason to believe Stolas has any genuine affection for him beyond some small, off-screen "nice things" he did for him, and even then, you can still look down upon someone while caring for them. The show wants to present Blitz as in the wrong here for "hurting Stolas' feelings" and being consumed in his bias, but that doesn't work because Blitz had no reason to believe that Stolas didn't look down on him when he literally did.

But despite Blitz not being in the wrong in the situation, he's portrayed as the abuser here and he's the one who apologizes to his abuser, and HE says that Stolas "deserves better than HIM", making Stolas out as the victim here in this situation when the context and framing say otherwise.

Speaking of Stolas, many people have torn him apart this episode already so I won't go that in-depth here, however, it's still relevant to my point. The episode portrays Stolas as sympathetic here when he isn't - in fact, Stolas comes across as extremely unsympathetic in this episode due to claiming that he "never looked down" upon Blitz despite doing that throughout all of season 1.

He THEN gets angry at Blitz for not saving him when Striker captured him even though 1. Blitz was busy and 2. HE LITERALLY SENT HIS CO-WORKERS TO SAVE YOU WHY TF ARE YOU MAD???

Stolas doesn't have a legitimate reason to be angry at Blitz due to the outside context - instead, all of his interactions with Blitzo in this episode come across as him playing the victim and gaslighting him. And All 2 U is the pure culmination of this. A song that is supposed to be the moment where Blitz realizes his mistakes instead comes across as Blitz being repeatedly gaslighted and guilt-tripped into apologizing to his abuser.

HE is treated as the problem, HE is treated as the one who is meant to apologize to Stolas, even though he is NOT IN THE WRONG FOR THIS IN THE SLIGHTEST. Yet, the show ignores past interactions for this to work. It doesn't address anything Stolas did beyond just making the deal - it acts as if that was the only bad thing he ever did even when Stolas did more than just that to Blitz.

Yet, that's never called out by anyone. Stolas doesn't have a good or sympathetic reason to be mad at Blitz - yet the show treats him as another one of Blitz's victims anyway. So, Blitz was essentially gaslit into becoming a better person, which isn't really great writing. Apology Tour had all the ingredients of a fantastic episode but it's severely held back by this specific aspect, Stolas drags the episode down so much and it sucks that the Stolas crap in the episode has to be tied to Blitz's development. Blitzo should have seen his mistakes through someone who actually had valid and sympathetic reasons to dislike him, someone who does actually come across as a person deeply hurt by Blitz's actions.

In other words....Verosika. Verosika should have been the character they used here, not Stolas. Verosika has an actually good reason to dislike Blitz and one the audience could actually sympathize for, SHE should have been the character to get Blitz to realize his mistakes and decide to change and grow as a person. Have All 2 U be sung by her instead of Stolas, with the song detailing how Blitz met and Blitz broke her heart.

Seriously, the concept of the begining scene and All 2 U can work, but they'll work better if you replace Stolas with Verosika in them instead, because Verosika has a good reason to dislike Blitz that could easily be expanded upon and developed, and Blitz would've had better reasoning to become a better person rather than being gaslit and guilt tripped into it. Apology Tour had all of the ingredients for a fantastic episode but the Stolass trash drags it down HARD.

[playmiya]

LIKE A BOY — CYBERPUNK!SUNA cw: description of murder, violence, alcoholism & drug mentions / takes inspiration from cyberpunk: 2077 and cyberpunk edgerunners

suna stares at the view in front of him. night city is a giant, glimmering monster of neon from his perch on the rooftop of this abandoned skyscraper, one of many that dot his line of sight. flickering holograms advertising everything from subway passes to nightclubs rapidly flash, and the sounds of whirring trains and cars surround him in an endless cacophony. the stench of acid and smoke from the factories mingle to create a toxic blend of air that only a true citizen of the city would be able to withstand.

he hates it. he hates it all so much. if there was a world where the clouds, instead of raining sulphur, rained lighter fuel and he could ignite a matchstick just to throw it off this building, he would set night city on fire in a heartbeat.

he's certain he's losing his mind. he doesn't need to be doped out on glitter or teetering on the edge of cyberpsychosis to feel the way he does. every couple of weeks, when the endless slashing and maiming and killing gets a bit much, when he conflates the face of his previous target with the next, his head gets a bit blurry. his hands seem to be perpetually dirty — and scrubbing them to no end, like that germaphobe sakusa — does nothing to clean them. he's overcome with the urge of slitting the throat of anyone within five feet of him, if that'll make him feel better.

the price of devotion to inarizaki must be quantified in blood. it's a mandatory tax he needs to pay, a burden passed down from his father from his grandfather. a burden that's becoming increasingly difficult to pay in a city where every next target is more metal, and less human.

suna can only do so much with his hands before he either sees them as weak or splattered with blood from different beings.

peeling off his shirt, caked with blood and damp with sweat, he wonders what he's doing here instead of trudging back home in japantown.

the click-clack of your heels crunching through broken glass and discarded syringes up the stairs reminds him. if suna's a loaded gun waiting to be fired, you're both the trigger and the safety.

he supposes the only reason he's still somewhat who he was and not some mindless lapdog for the gang is thanks to you. the princess of arasaka, set to inherit their pharmaceutical empire, playing anchor for someone who'll always be second-best in inarizaki. he's so beneath you that it's pathetic. he sometimes thinks he has a better chance of building a stairway to the moon than seriously being with you.

and yet, here you were, rushing out of whatever meeting your parents had trapped you in, taking the godforsaken subway that you'd normally never step foot in, climbing up three flights of stairs in heels that would cover a week's worth of bounties, just for him.

your perfume greets him before you do. it's a delicate floral number he knows you only reserve for important days, so he feels just a little guilty, until your cold hands come to settle against warm, bare skin and he can't think at all.

"hi," you breathe, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. your nails — is that a new set? — adorned with pretty flecks of chrome mixed in with pink glitter gently graze against him, and he can't help but melt into your touch.

"hey," he mumbles in response, bringing one large, calloused palm on top of yours. there's a low magnetic hum from where your ring meets his, and they clink in a comfortable sound as you join him in dangling your legs over the edge of the building, content with resting your face in the crook of his neck to watch over his shoulder at the neon cityscape.

"long day?", you whisper, not wanting to disturb him. truthfully, he thinks you could start screaming about a new dress you ordered from paris and he'd still be grateful to just have you there with him.

"mhm." you shift, just a little, so you're now sitting next to him. he does look a little worse for wear than usual, and you can't help but feel the dull bubble of anger that consumes you at just how tired he looks. he rests his head on your shoulder, and the smell of copper and smoke is a heady mixture that envelops you. you don't budge, not one bit, even as he's sweaty and dirty, and every instinct of yours is screaming at you to return to the boardroom you're supposed to be in instead of bailing and spending the night at a polluted building on the outskirts of the city with a man who'd otherwise make light work of killing you and claiming the millions of eddies that are set on your head.

fate is at its best when it works in diametrically opposite ways.

you run a hand soothingly over his arm, concerned every time about the new scar he's picked up just underneath his elbow.

"wanna talk about it?", you hesitantly offer. you know the suit of events like the back of your hands.

"no," he mumbles, and he nuzzles closer into your neck, fanning the juncture near your clavicle with his hot breath.

"not even a little?", you ask again, feeling his eyelashes flutter. how can be so pretty, bathed in the ugly, harsh glow of pink and purple light even while exhausted will always confuse you. suna was so achingly pretty that you were scared. scared of how you'd respond when he'd ask you to stay, just for a little longer, like he always asks you on nights like these, nights that turn to daybreaks being spent in his arms.

he strips away any rationality you hold. he knows that. you don't know for how much longer you can keep giving in, but that was a worry for another day.

"no," he grumbles again, and his grip on your waist tightens. you giggle at his petulance.

"i think it'll make you feel better."

he may be fatigued beyond words, but he can spare you one of his trademarked dramatic sighs, a sign that there's still the suna you know so very well underneath the layers of the complicated, messy, dangerous persona he has to maintain.

"work today was.... shit," he exhales, thinking of the hostage situation he'd been forced to mediate. a mother being held at gunpoint by her husband, who'd been driven into a deep state of cyberpsychosis after embedding a militech chip into his brain. a chip that suna, who was originally supposed to recover it quietly from new harbour, had to retrieve by sifting through the splattered brains of mother, daughter and husband. that's what the husband gets for fucking with what isn't his. the mother and daughter, though, were collateral damage that hit a too little close to home for him.

"then i went home and that was shit too," he laughs harshly, finding perverse amusement in the irony of his life. rei was all out of her chuupets, and that led her to hiding out in her room and crying for dear life as his dad chose the literal worst time to come home drunk, bitching and yelling to his mother about yet another day spent in miya senior's shadow and how it was all her fault.

the old-fashioned yet highly modified katana suna uses, engraved with the prophetic words of the gang, we don't need the memories, felt heavy in his hands as he chose to run away from home and bury himself in a pile of bodies. he shouldn't have taken so many commissions on, but he did. all to make him think of anything but the broken bottles and rei's wails as he carried her in his arms to kita's place, where he deposited her for the rest of the day.

"do you think i'm a coward?", he asks you, because you're the only person who knows who he truly is, what he truly is, and still decides, every day, to be with him.

you study his amber eyes, so observant despite what they let on. it's not even a question worth asking.

your lips are on his before he can even anticipate it. it's sweet, and desperate at the same time, like you're kissing frantically him so any doubt can disappear from his brain and he's only thinking of you. you're soft, and he can taste the cherry of your gloss when you part your mouth to let out the quietest noise of contentment that he drinks up when his hand creeps up the short dress that hits just right at your mid thigh.

it takes a phenomenal amount of self-control for you to pull away and not kiss him senseless. he's clearly disappointed, and groans when you rest your forehead against his. how you manage to flip his switches so effortlessly will always bewilder him.

"you're perfect. you've never been a coward, and you never will be," you breathe, and for someone who has to measure their words and consider the weight of all their actions as a part of a grander corporate scheme, you find yourself unrestrainedly honest with suna. it's difficult not to be. you kiss his forehead gently, and suna thinks he's going to explode at just how saccharinely sweet you are to someone like him.

"you're too fuckin' good to me," he sighs, lacing his fingers through yours. "too good for me," he adds as you let out a hum of disapproval, beautiful face scrunching up into an annoyed expression.

"should've never bought you that drink," he chuckles wearily, reminiscing about the day he decided to shoot his shot at his deskmate at the academy when he'd spotted you at manhattan's bar.

"you never should've said yes," he grouses, but he doesn't mean it.

"stupid boy," you chide, flicking the same spot of his forehead where you'd just kissed him. the remnants of your gloss are still there.

"you know you're going to buy me a drink in every universe. and i'm going to keep saying yes."

a/n hello hi sorry if this was a bit ,,, dreary but i promise i'm going to make this fun, i plan on doing a little cyberpunk sunarin miniseries because i'm missing the show so much :( also i know suna's ooc in this but i love making my men a little pathetic <3

[with-my-calamitous-love]

SHOTGUN SHOT THROUGH THE HEART / CAN'T DRIVE PAST THE PLACES WE USED TO GO TO

keigo x reader x touya

part 2/4, part 1 here

the day of touya’s supposed arrest was the day you almost ended it all. a familiar winged hero comes to your rescue. olivia rodrigo mentioned!

inspired by drivers license + getaway car

today was enough to kill you.

4:26 am. your eyes open with no time for dreary morning exhaustion. his arms feel especially warm that morning, making it all the more harder to pry yourself away from him. in the end, it would be two broken hearts, and 4 hands bloody.

what kills you is how peaceful he looks. how touya, a man who had fire inside his heart, felt some semblance of comfort when he laid next to you. you prayed he was dreaming, dreaming of something better than this.

you pack throw your keys and what little cash there is left into the purse he stole for you. your as quiet as possible, not necessarily to conceal your movement, but rather your cries. you don't want to do this. you want to go there, and lay with your favorite arsonist. you want to lay there and love him into the world catches up with you. but you fucking can't.

and the worst part is, he's watching you.

he could stand up. he could yell, and demand to know what's going on. he could burn you to a crisp or pull you into his arms. he could promise you forever or break your heart more as you slowly twist the doorknob open.

he hated the fact that he was suspicious about you, but its god's cruelest joke that that gut feeling is somehow always right. he doesn't what exactly is going down, but he knows you're not coming back. his hearts not pure, far from it, but it still hurts him watching you leave. you turned into the one thing he wished you never would be.

but he's quiet. because deep down, somewhere deep in his heart, he knew this would happen eventually. he can't find it in himself to blame you. he blames himself for thinking you wouldn't.

so with a gentle, silent sigh, he lets you go.

just because someone expects betrayal doesn't mean they can't cry when it happens.

you breathe again once you finally reach the car, ducking past the sirens, officers and god damn heroes that are waiting outside the hotel. many of them, the figures you see on t.v and on magazines attempt to acknowledge you, to thank you for your efforts, but your oxygen is running out. you slam the door shut behind you and speed off into the early dusk of the morning.

red lights and stop signs become nothing but a blur as shaky sobs take over your lungs. your grip on the steering wheel loosens as you see his face in the rearview. your feet on the dashboard, laughing at crude jokes overtaking the sounds of traffic. you pray that he'll forgive you, though its useless.

by now, they've broken into the room.

by now, they've got him on his knees.

by know, he realizes just why you left so soon.

you drive alone, despite the various honks and sirens that become more and more evident at your recklessness. suddenly, you see him everywhere- sidewalks, car reflections, alleyways and deeply embedded in the crevices of your heart.

you said forever, and now you drove the getaway car.

when keigo calls you, you answer with a shaky huff as his voice comes through the receiver. he updates you on everything, much to your dismay.

"what do you mean you guys didn't arrest him!? what the fuck happened there?!" you scream.

your ex-fiance's voice is filled with guilt as he explains everything. "it... was a disaster. we underestimated him. he was unstoppable, angrier than i've ever seen him. and when i told him you were the one who gave up his location..."

your heart may as well have stopped when he said that.

"you... told him...?"

the blonde winces at the tone in your voice, realizing his slip up. for a hero that was so used to lying, being calculated and playing a role that wasn't for him, he struggled to hide the most of painful of truths to you.

"shit, i'm... fuck, i'm sorry, babe. it just slipped out." the coward in every man, and evidently in keigo, tries to cover up what he revealed about you. it obviously doesn't work.

a shaky, sob-filled scream escapes your throat as you dangerously speed through the traffic and onto the bridge connecting your now abandoned hiding spot to the city. other drivers are understandably honking at you, flipping you off and asking who the hell granted you your license. you're too distraught to care, seeing as the guilt of turning touya in overtakes you.

you did the right thing, and it tore your heart apart at the seems.

keigo is still on the phone with you, keeping note of the sirens and cars he hears from your end. he quickly tries to diffuse the situation before anything else happens. "[y/n], love, i'm gonna need you to pull over." he cautions. "i'll come to you."

"i'm fine." you lie, not wanting him to see you like this. you stare at the watery depths below, reasoning with yourself not to do anything rash. just make it back to your apartment, wrap yourself up in your bedsheets and lay there until this is all over.

keigo sees right through this, as if sensing your inner turmoil (if it wasn't already blatantly obvious.) he begs you just to pull over, to stop driving in the state your in, and just let him come to you. let him make sure you come out of this alive. its what he wants, and its probably what touya wants, too.

you grit your teeth at his pleas, too heartbroken to think rationally right now. you're a reckless, ticking time bomb, and you all know it. "god, i know you care about me, kei. i know you still have feelings for me."

he's silent on the other end of the phone. his heart clenches, wincing at your harshness. he was never trying to hide how he never fully got over you, even after you professed your love for the man you ran away with. somehow, you still had that hold on his heartstrings.

"yeah, well, so what if do? what difference does it make i still don't want you to kill yourself."

his hand shakes as he holds the phone in his hand, his worry growing more and more apparent with each passing second.

"you made me betray the person i loved so much, maybe as much as i loved you."

theres a heavy silence that hangs over the call screen. its wrong to blame keigo for what happened. either way, touya was still a dangerous villain who had to be stopped. all keigo did was open your eyes to the truth. probably because he's a hero, and thats what heroes do, but also because he loves you, and doesn't want to see your heartbreak over a criminal.

but its that last part that makes keigo's heart sink to his stomach. the idea that the amount of love you had for him was equivalent to the love you had for touya.

even after the end of your breakup, he still wished the best for you. he wished for you to be happy, just not happier than how you were with him. as selfish as that is.

his heart aches, the pain of what you're going through beginning to creep up on him too. he o desperately wants to tell you that everything will be okay, that he'll be your hero and take all your hurt away, but in that regard? he's powerless.

"keigo, i-"

he listens, hoping you'll finish your sentence. but you don't, even after he yells after you. "what? [y/n], what? hey!?"

his heart stops in his chest as a loud crash resonates over your end, followed by honking, screaming, and worst of all, the sound of something splashing into the watery depths below. what scares him the most is what he doesn't know. are you okay? can he still save you in time?

when the line goes dead, he quicky takes off, setting out to find you before its too late.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

theres an overwhelming cold feeling that takes you. you're oddly relaxed, despite the dull ache that erupts in your head. you aren't sure whats happening fully, your memories a messy haze. right now, nothing else matters as your body floats through the cold state of purgatory.

theres suddenly a sharp pain on your chest, followed by a desperate plea you can’t quite discern. theres a familiar taste on your lips, one that speaks love to you. that resounding pressure on your chest makes your heart thump, causing memories to suddenly replay in your mind like a film screen. memories with someone you loved.

you and keigo had met through some friend you can’t really remember. two deep in chardonnay, and you were the only one that guessed his antics during charades. the pounding of your heart continues as you recall the memory. you went from one kiss to getting married in just the span of a few months.

first loves are special like that.

he found pieces of you in every song he listened to, became utterly addicted to smell of your perfume and your bare shoulder in the morning. he loved your laughter, the way your hands fit in his. he loved that you saw him, even in the moments he could barely recognize himself.

the thing about first love, however, is that its also your first loss.

fears of trapping you in a marriage, the same one he had seen growing up, became all the more evident for the hero. he didn’t want to hold you down, to chain you to him when the two of you were meant to fly freely, happily. he felt like you deserved to love someone else.

and eventually, you did. though he never expected the firstborn son turned villain you ran off with.

but as keigo performs cpr on you, begging you to come back to life, he pleads with the sky. with anyone who might hear him, or whoever was trying to take you away from this world.

if it meant you’d start breathing again, he’d fly up to the clouds and catch lightning in a bottle. if it meant you’d open your eyes, he’d fix every last mistake he ever made. if it meant you’d love him again… well, he’d deal with the truth of that if it meant you’d simply live again.

he almost gives up, looking down at his own, wet gloved hands as he comes to terms with the fact that his attempts may be futile. you were injured in the crash, losing blood from cuts and bruises. on top of that, you had drowned, the cruel, murky depths of the sea taking you away.

he’s already covered in water, but a singular tear drop runs down his eye.

your hearts beating, fuelled purely by the love you’ve gotten to experience. you see two people- the man who brought you back to life, and the one that felt like the best way to die.

before you can discern who is who, your heart catches up with your lungs, taking a desperate gasp of air. you immediately turn to your side, ignoring the cuts on your body in order to turn over and cough out the water. its salty and stings your throat, your vision hazy and your body shivering.

“breathe.” a voice commands you, rubbing circles on your back. keigo sighs in relief, pulling you into his lap. you cling like the life buoy you would have needed just a couple of minutes ago.

you don’t even realizing you’re still crying, not until the blonde strokes your cheeks free from the tears. he tilts your head up so he can look at you.

“you were dead a minute ago.” he says, his usual nonchalant behaviour replaced by a rare glimmer of worry. you were the only person that pulled those feelings out of him, anyway.

your throat sings of salt, body aching from the cold and the blood loss. “yeah, well… you’re not gonna get rid of me that easily.” you choke out.

he almost laughs, opting to pull you into a tight hug. with as much strength, though theres not much, you embrace him back. yes, you’re still mad. yes, you’re still heartbroken. but he somehow made your tortured heart beat once more.

he wraps his coat around you, handing you off to the paramedics. he promises to meet you in the hospital after he’s done helping other survivors, sending you off with a tender kiss to your forehead. keigo looks back, seeing the accident that left you dead for a moment.

touya, from afar, is watching too.

the look on his face is something you can’t quite decipher. he’s mad as hell you sold him out, especially at the behest of hawks- but something dragged him to the scene of the accident. something in him had to know you’d be okay.

he watches as the ambulance takes you away, before turning away and leaving the scene.

tags 🐚

@whenanafallsinlove @satirediary @bbluefllame @crushmeeren (aka all the people that would probably choose touya’s life over a thousand peoples 😭 cuz me too)