#also wonder why after supper…

[eurydiceofsparta]

Eura just tried to keep her eyes closed. Then, unfortunately for her, Wes seemed to start crying. Her eyes then opened a bit.

“Oh..”

*later that night Eurydice was awoken to hushed voices one being her husband's* what do you mean he's dying??? No one even told me he was sick?

~ @the-epic-amphinomus (hehe :))

Eurydice’s eyes opened slowly. She didn’t say anything except just try to listen in.. She closed her eyes again just so she could pretend to sleep..

[sansaorgana]

— LADY OF THE ROSES (IV)

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE

PAIRING — Ser Gwayne Hightower x fem!Reader // Tyrell!OC

SUMMARY — Gwayne and his wife visit King's Landing with their children, who are very jealous of the fact that their cousins own their dragons and they do not. In the meantime, Otto Hightower wonders if his daughter-in-law is truly loyal to his house.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s written as an usual x Reader fic without describing anything about the Reader’s looks but I still classified it as an OC as well since she is a Tyrell. + You don’t have to know the previous chapters to understand this one and it's the last one of this story. 😊💚 In the show Gwayne mentions that it took him three months to get to King's Landing but I was using some website while writing previous parts where it says that it takes a week from Oldtown to Highgarden and, according to the same logic, it takes less than a month from Highgarden to King's Landing – that's why I decided to make the whole trip only a month long here. 🤔

WARNINGS — Alicent slapping Aegon's face, Reader's child getting hurt (nothing major)

WORD COUNT — 6,870

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

LADY OF THE ROSES (IV)

Past few weeks had been busy and spent on making all the necessary preparations before the long trip. Oldtown would be left without the Lord or Lady to look after it for around three months and it required lots of training and instructing all the servants and knights around the city what to do in your absence.

You had been summoned by your father-in-law and his daughter, The Queen Consort. They had invited your Lord Husband and you to King’s Landing to spend time together – even though you had a very weird feeling the sudden need to create a stronger bond within the family was dictated by some hidden agenda. Either way, you were rather excited for the trip even though it would take about a month on the road to even get to the capital city of Westeros.

What stressed you the most was travelling for so long with four children you had given Gwayne for the past few years. Your eldest son Edmund was twelve now and his brother William was ten. Your daughter Rosalynd was eight and her sister Florys was six. You were glad that the time when you had been pregnant nearly constantly was over now and you could enjoy the ups and downs of motherhood without many worries because your husband was a man devoted to his family. Gwayne had not only been raising his sons and teaching them all they needed to know about the sword but he also made sure to spend quality time with his daughters. And above that all, he was simply a caring and sweet husband. No matter how many years had passed.

Your trip started in the very early morning and you all were half asleep while getting inside the carriage. Rosalynd was sleeping with her head on your lap and little Florys was asleep in her father’s arms. Edmund and William were looking out of the window, excited and interested in everything that they were seeing although the road to The Highgarden was very well known to them. Because you lived so close to your parents, your children were often visiting their castle. 

What started peacefully, soon turned out to be a little nightmare. The children were very whiny and easily getting bored. When you reached The Highgarden a week after leaving Oldtown, you were seriously considering coming back home instead of going further down the Rose Road. 

“It is only the beginning of the trip and it is already exhausting,” you complained to your parents during supper when you were staying overnight at their place.

“You might not get a second chance to go to King’s Landing, my darling,” your father reminded you. “Endure it.”

“Easier said than done, I’m afraid,” Gwayne chuckled and shook his head.

“I do not understand,” your mother spoke up. “Look at them, my grandchildren,” she smiled at the four of your children eating their meals quietly. “They’re so well-behaved. Little angels, really,” she sighed lovingly.

“Perhaps we might leave them here for three moons, how about that?” Your eyes sparkled at the idea. “We shall leave for King's Landing on the morrow while you watch over them.”

“I would love to,” your mother grinned.

“I would not,” your father’s eyes widened at the idea.

“I do not think that is a good idea, my Lady,” Gwayne put his hand on top of yours gently and you looked at him, confused. “To spend three moons without my little ones would be a nightmare,” he explained and your smile dropped.

Gwayne was right. You would miss your children dearly, too. You were sending them sometimes to spend two weeks at The Highgarden with their grandparents and given the fact the trip lasted a week, it would be a month away from you. It was barely bearable already whenever it happened. Three months sounded like torture.

“My Gwayne is right,” you sighed and laid your tired eyes on your mother. “They must go with us. Also, just like Lord Father said, such a chance might not happen again. They should see King’s Landing, too,” you nodded.

In the early morning of the next day, you were already back on the Rose Road, which took you through the town of Bitterbridge to The Kingswood where you entered The Kingsroad and The Crownlands. You had never been there and only two times before you had been on the road for such a long time. Both times it had been to attend your sister’s weddings. One had taken place in Dorne and the second had been in The Vale. 

Once you entered The Kingsroad, it would only take you a few days to reach King’s Landing and you were more than grateful for that. Both you and Gwayne were exhausted after trying to entertain your children on the road and attempting to tame their tantrums caused by boredom and frustration.

The night before reaching King’s Landing you were sleeping at the castle of some lesser Lord who lived nearby the road. You had been given the guest rooms but you couldn’t fall asleep, both excited and anxious about the next day.

“What are you possibly scared of, my love?” Gwayne soothed you by caressing your face with his fingertips when you were laying in his arms and staring at the ceiling instead of drifting off to the land of dreams. “You had met my father already and he seems to be quite indifferent towards you,” he pointed out.

Otto Hightower had visited Oldtown a few times after your wedding to his son and what Gwayne had said was painfully true – he seemed to be indifferent towards you. Just like he was indifferent towards his own son. The only signs of affection you had seen in him were for your daughters. He hadn’t even thanked you for giving him two healthy grandsons and heirs – his attention had been fully focused on the girls. It was quite adorable, you had to admit. But it was also saddening for your husband and sons.

“What about your sister? The King? Will our children get along with their cousins?” You voiced out all your insecurities in a low whisper. “And The Targaryens… I do fear them, Gwayne. People say they are more gods than men.”

“I am sure they are men just like you and I,” Gwayne smiled and kissed your forehead while caressing your arm.

“They have dragons…” You sighed.

“We probably will not even encounter one,” he assured you. “And do not be afraid of my sister or her husband. Are you not always reminding everyone that you are a sister-in-law of The Queen? Now it is time to meet her personally,” he teased and you rolled your eyes.

You somehow managed to get some sleep on that night. In the morning you had your dress prepared already because you had been planning to wear it for quite a long time. Your maids helped you to put on the elegant green gown that was pretty low-cut. You were a daughter of The Highgarden and you had never stopped wearing such necklines. Your own Lord Husband had given up already on trying to change that – in fact, he enjoyed it. You decorated your exposed neck with a golden pendant of The Seven-Pointed Star to make Queen Alicent happy.

Gwayne found it quite funny but you gave him a scolding look.

Your children had green outfits, too. Pretty little green dresses on your girls and dark green tunics with The Hightower beacon embroidered on them on your boys. The Hightowers were coming to King’s Landing.

When you reached the city you were staring out of the window with as much curiosity as your children. Gwayne had been in the capital once before for the tournament when he had been very young so his excitement was not as big.

Lots of people were staring at your carriage with a hint of curiosity. They knew that The Hightowers were The Queen’s family and for that reason some of them waved shyly at you. You were trying to wave back but Rosalynd and Florys were the ones who actually enjoyed it the most – feeling like little Princesses greeting the crowd. So, you allowed them to have fun as you leaned back on your seat. Your hand found Gwayne’s immediately and you squeezed it.

“You better be on your best behaviour once we reach The Red Keep,” you told your sons. “All of you,” you laid your eyes on your giggling daughters.

“You do not need to worry, mother,” Edmund nodded at you and straightened his back, trying to present himself more mature.

“I cannot wait to train with my cousins,” William added. “Father, will we be able to?”

“I do think so,” Gwayne nodded with a smile at him and leaned in to fix William’s ruffled hair.

“I cannot wait to spend time with Princess Helaena,” Rosalynd sighed dreamily. “She must be so ethereal… A Targaryen Princess…”

“I want to see grampa,” Florys’ eyes sparkled and you chuckled at your sweet little girl.

You smiled nervously at your husband when you realised you were already entering The Red Keep’s courtyard and a few people were waiting for you. You spotted your tall father-in-law and that beautiful woman standing next to him had to be Queen Alicent herself. She had soft, curly hair in the auburn colour and her dress was of the same shade of green as yours. You sincerely hoped it would not be considered rude of you but you had no idea. There were three silver-haired children with them – two boys and a girl. They had to be Prince Aegon, Princess Helaena and Prince Aemond.

“Grampa!” Florys clapped her hands excitedly and already moved to the carriage’s door.

“Florys, mummy and daddy are leaving the carriage first,” you reminded her softly.

“Do try to behave like a big girl!” Her older sister scolded her. “We are in King’s Landing!”

“Rosalynd, you are not her Lady Mother,” Gwayne reminded his daughter.

In the meantime, the servant announced your family and opened the door of the carriage. You took a deep breath in and watched your husband get out before offering you his hand to help you. You took it softly and wore a nervous smile before facing your in-laws.

The moment your feet touched the ground, you felt something moving behind your skirts. It was little Florys jumping out of the carriage already and running as fast as possible towards her grandfather. Everyone froze for a moment and widened their eyes at the scene.

“Grampa!” Florys reached her hands out and Otto Hightower let out a nervous chuckle before crouching down to give her a tight squeeze.

“You are being impatient, Lady Florys,” he greeted her and she clapped her hands.

Rosalynd stood by your side with a sigh and an eye-roll. Meanwhile, your sons chose to stand by their father. Since Florys had broken all the protocols already anyway, you decided to simply walk up to The Queen without caring about the right order as you nodded at your husband. He nodded back and only then Rosalynd ran up to her grandfather as well to give him a hug, too.

You sighed and shook your head before walking up to Queen Alicent herself. Your sons followed you and Gwayne while Otto whispered something to the girls, which made their faces go serious as they joined your side, too. You all bowed down respectfully. 

“My Queen,” you greeted her.

“Sister,” Gwayne kissed the palm of her hand.

From the corner of your eye you spotted the older Prince yawning. Queen Alicent blushed and pushed him slightly with her elbow.

“I see we both struggle when it comes to disciplining our offspring,” she smiled at you but you noticed how she looked down at your low-cut dress and the religious pendant on your exposed chest. She chewed on the inside of her cheek at the sight but she decided not to comment.

“Lady Hightower,” your father-in-law kissed the palm of your hand.

“Lord Father,” you greeted him and he gave you a shadow of a smile.

At his son, he only nodded. Gwayne nodded back and clenched his jaw.

“My grandsons,” Otto approached your boys and shook their hands. “Let me introduce the young Princes to you,” he pointed at the silver-haired boys standing by Queen Alicent’s side. “Prince Aegon, Prince Aemond.”

“Lord Edmund,” Edmund introduced himself and extended his hand towards Aegon. Prince Aegon looked him up and down and after a while of hesitation, he shook your son’s hand.

“Lord William,” your younger boy introduced himself and reached out for Aemond’s hand. Prince Aemond shook it shyly.

“Are you Princess Helaena?” Rosalynd stood in front of the Princess with Florys hiding behind her. 

The silver-haired girl widened her eyes and looked pretty startled. She took a step back and Rosalynd furrowed her brow.

“Princess Helaena is of a… rather timid nature,” Queen Alicent explained.

“Let us come inside, you must be exhausted after the journey,” Otto pointed at the doors leading to the castle.

“Do not even get me started, Lord Father,” Gwayne chuckled. “And certainly do not get my Lady Wife started,” he added teasingly and you shot him a scolding glance.

The first day was pretty chaotic because everyone was exhausted but also excited to see as much as possible of The Red Keep. Otto Hightower gave you and your children a tour himself. The only place he avoided were the chambers of The King who was ill and you had already been told you would not see him most likely.

Gwayne had already seen The Red Keep before but it had been before his sister was The Queen so now he was allowed in more places. He joined your little tour and kept his hands on your sons’ shoulders, while your daughters were holding Otto’s hands. 

To your surprise, during the supper, you quite befriended Queen Alicent. Of course she was still frowning upon your dress but you bonded over the experience of motherhood.

“The Red Keep is so green now,” your father-in-law pointed out happily at the sight of you, his children and grandchildren by the long table. All dressed in green clothes to show off their Hightower surname. “It makes me glad. Gwayne, I would like to have a word with you after supper.”

“Tomorrow, father,” Gwayne shook his head. “We are tired after the journey.”

Otto didn’t say anything to that but he gave his son quite an unpleasant look. You squeezed your husband’s hand underneath the table and caressed the palm of his hand lovingly to soothe him.

You retired to your chambers pretty early because you were longing for the comforts of a bed. Your husband and children followed and you made sure they all found their rooms and beds before you went to your own chambers.

“What do you think is the matter he wishes to discuss with you?” You asked Gwayne while brushing your hair in front of the mirror by the vanity table. He was sitting up on the bed and watching you with admiration in his eyes as every evening. “Do you think it is something about Oldtown?”

“No,” Gwayne shakes his head. “Those instructions have always been sent to us by ravens. It must be something about… the future and its possibilities.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” You furrowed your brow and turned around to see his face better.

“You know that my father wants Prince Aegon on The Iron Throne, not Princess Rhaenyra,” your husband reminded you. “And The King might die soon. We are not even allowed to see him.”

“They say he is slowly decaying with each passing day,” you winced when you imagined such a thing happening to a person.

“That must be a terrible fate,” Gwayne sighed. “However, his death will bring the conflict of succession.”

“What conflict?” You asked. “Aegon is his eldest son.”

Gwayne squinted his eyes and then shook his head with a chuckle.

“My father is underestimating you, my sweetling,” he hummed to himself. “Now, come here, since we are sleeping in The Red Keep, I want to make you feel like a Princess,” he opened his arms for you to join him but you only scoffed and put the hairbrush down before fixing your hair with your hands.

“I am not a child anymore, Lord Husband,” you teased. “You shall make me feel like a Queen.”

You and Queen Alicent were sitting in the garden together and watching your daughters trying to befriend each other. Rosalynd and Florys were pretty grossed out and shocked to see Princess Helaena sitting on the grass and picking up all sorts of bugs and insects to examine with her curious eyes. She handed Rosalynd a spider once and your daughter nearly fainted at the sight.

Princess Helaena was of a gentle nature, though. She seemed to like her younger cousins and she was whispering to them all the details about every bug she was picking up. Florys was more interested in them than Rosalynd. Your eight years old daughter was often shooting you meaningful glances but you were only smiling at her in return.

The young princes and your sons were training together in the courtyard with Gwayne and Ser Criston Cole, whom you had recently met. You wondered how it was going, so you decided to finally put Rosalynd out of her misery.

“Shall we check on our sons, Your Grace?” You asked Queen Alicent but she seemed to be surprised.

“What for?” She inquired. “Are they not with the men who teach them?”

“I like to watch my sons while they train and cheer for them,” you told her and smiled softly. She visibly did not understand the appeal of it but she stood up from the bench and you followed. “Girls,” you looked behind your shoulder and extended your hand. “Come.”

Florys ran up to you to take your hand while Rosalynd and Helaena followed quietly behind you. You could hear your daughter desperately trying to start a conversation she was dying to have with a real Princess.

“You must own so many beautiful dresses, Helaena! What is your favourite colour?”

“Beige,” Helaena answered, clearly uninterested but also not wanting to make her cousin sad.

“Nice…” Rosalynd sighed and you could hear that she was disappointed in that answer. “Do you think you could give me some of your old dresses that do not fit you anymore?”

“Rosalynd!” You gasped as you scolded her.

“That is quite alright, Lady Hightower. We shall gift Rosalynd some of Helaena’s old dresses,” Queen Alicent nodded at you and caressed her daughter’s head lovingly.

“Thank you, my Queen,” you smiled at her and then you gave Rosalynd a meaningful look.

“Thank you, aunt,” the girl bowed down happily.

You reached the courtyard but to your surprise, your sons and the young princes were spending time together on their own, whispering and laughing about something, while your husband seemed to be in the middle of an argument with the other knight.

“Is that what you teach them, Ser Criston?” Gwayne was irritated. “Knights shall be chivalrous and rightful.”

“They are no knights, Ser Gwayne, for they are young princes,” Ser Criston answered.

“Gwayne,” you approached them quickly to stand beside your husband and rub his arm before intertwining yours with his. “How is the training going?”

“Oh, rather marvellous, Lady Wife,” he answered, his voice filled with irony and mockery as he looked Ser Criston up and down. “I have a fascinating conversation with Ser Criston here about the manners of a knight. Perhaps they do not teach them in Dorne.”

“You are from Dorne, Ser?” You tried to change the subject as you looked at the man standing in front of you.

“Yes, my Lady,” Ser Criston nodded at you.

“My sister Olenna married a lesser Lord from Dorne,” you told him. “A Toland,” you explained.

“I hope she has found her happiness with him, my Lady,” Ser Criston cracked a smile at you, which made Gwayne move uncomfortably.

“Barely,” you had to admit with a sigh and Ser Criston’s smile turned into a frown.

Before the conversation would become even more awkward, you were interrupted by Edmund and William running up to you and tugging onto your skirts, making both you and your husband turn around.

“What is it?” You asked them.

“Can we go to the dragon pit to see the dragons?!” William’s eyes widened out of excitement.

“I do not think that is a good idea,” you shook your head as your heart skipped a beat out of fear at the thought.

“We only wish to see them,” Edmund explained. “Father…”

“Your mother is right,” Gwayne agreed with you.

“But should not a knight be brave? I want to see a dragon and so does William!” Edmund insisted and sadly, the mention of the knighthood convinced your husband – especially after an argument with Ser Criston about the very same matter.

“Alright then, but be careful you two,” Gwayne nodded and you watched with terror in your eyes as two of your sons ran away to join their cousins and a few servants on the way.

“Gwayne…!” You gasped.

“Worry not,” Queen Alicent’s voice made you turn around. “The Dragonkeepers and the guards are there.”

After hearing this, your daughters seemed to be interested as well. Rosalynd gave you puppy eyes.

“Can we go, too, mother?” She asked.

“Are you a squire, Rosalynd? Or Florys – is she?” You shook your head.

“Let them go, my Lady. It is better to feed the curiosity instead of letting it grow,” Ser Criston spoke and you shot him a deadly glance but you were sort of forced to agree to your daughter’s request now.

You nodded, reluctantly and watched the girls run away to join their brothers and cousins. Princess Helaena remained by her mother’s side, though.

“What about the young Princess?” Gwayne asked her with a smile and lifted her chin up gently with his finger.

“I do not find pleasure in flying, uncle,” she admitted.

You quickly regretted your decision to allow your children to see the dragons. They seemed to be mesmerised by the creatures and they could not stop whining about the fact they did not have their own beasts to ride.

“They are our cousins, mother,” Edmund kept whining to you on your way back from the supper. “Vhagar is so huge… It is so unfair we do not have any dragons and they do have so many!”

“They are princes and you are lords,” you reminded him. “They are Targaryens and you are Hightowers,” you added. “There is no shame in being different.”

“We are not different, Lady Mother,” Rosalynd rolled her eyes. “We are simply worse.”

“I am not jealous,” Florys saved the day with her sweet confession although her siblings shot her a deadly glance. She clinged to her father’s hand and sighed. “Dragons are big and I am small,” she explained and you chuckled because you found her reasoning adorable.

“You are just a coward because you are a girl!” William pointed out.

“I am a girl, too!” Rosalynd protested. “And I am not afraid. In fact, I would surely have a bigger dragon than you!”

“That is enough,” Gwayne shushed them. “Go to your beds, all of you. Sweet dreams about dragons – dreams, only,” he pointed out with a chuckle but the children did not find it funny.

“Goodnight, daddy, mummy,” Florys nodded and dragged Rosalynd with her to their shared chambers. Your older daughter only mumbled her goodnight.

“Goodnight,” Edmund and William both nodded and walked away, still frustrated and offended by the injustice of life and your light treatment of their situation.

You and Gwayne looked at each other and chuckled before going to your own bedroom.

You were asleep in your husband’s arms. The bed you shared in The Red Keep was twice as big as the one you had in Oldtown but you still were sleeping close in the middle of it. Your face was buried in the thin fabric of his shirt and Gwayne had his chin on top of your head and his arms wrapped around you just like yours were wrapped around his chest.

Sudden, loud and rapid knocking upon your doors made you both startle in your sleep and open your eyes. Gwayne sat up and rubbed his eyes and you hid your yawn with your hand.

“What is it?!” Your husband grunted and left the bed to grab a robe laying on the chair and put it on loosely. You sat up as well and watched his silhouette approaching the doors in the darkness of the room. “Someone better be dying,” Gwayne opened the doors and looked the servant up and down.

“F-forgive me for the rapid interruption, my Lord, my Lady…” The man stuttered. He was holding a candle to light up the room a little. “It is about your children…”

Your heart skipped a beat at that and you jumped out of the bed to stand behind your husband.

“What is it? What happened?!” You inquired. “Which children?”

“Lord Edmund is hurt, my Lady. Lord William and Lady Rosalynd seem to be alright but they were involved in it, too,” the servant swallowed thickly after delivering the dreadful news.

“Hurt?!” You squealed and squeezed your husband’s arm out of fear.

“Involved in what?” Gwayne furrowed his eyebrow.

“Apparently, young lords and the lady attempted to claim their own dragons with the help of Prince Aegon,” the servant explained and you nearly fainted at the news. Gwayne’s face went a shade paler in an instant.

“Where are they now?” He asked.

“Everyone is gathering, my Lord. You are expected in the dining hall,” he explained and walked away.

“Gods…” You whimpered and grabbed the very first dress to put on over your nightgown. You did not care much about your appearance at such a moment. Your hands were shaking because you were worried about your children, especially Edmund who was hurt.

Looking presentable enough, both you and Gwayne hurried downstairs and straight into the dining hall. Queen Alicent was there, too and so were Ser Cole and your father-in-law. Your eldest son was being looked after by a maester while William and Rosalynd were standing behind him with their heads kept low. Florys was scared and clinging to Otto’s hand. Prince Aegon looked pretty terrified, too, and he was not even smirking or laughing as usual.

“What happened?! Edmund!” You left Gwayne’s side to rush to your son. Your heart clenched inside your chest at the sight of his cheek burnt slightly. His lips and eyes were unharmed and for that he was lucky but there was a long burnt line on his cheek that would surely not heal completely and leave a scar. “Oh, Edmund…!” You sobbed and pressed the good side of his face to your chest.

“I am alright, mother,” he whispered.

“What were you thinking?!” Gwayne lost his temper but you knew it was dictated by worry and fear. “Grown tired of living, have you?!” He addressed William and Rosalynd now and they both looked away, ashamed.

“I did not go, daddy!” Florys exclaimed proudly. “And I was telling them it was a bad idea!”

“Shut your mouth, Florys!” Rosalynd scolded her and Florys hid herself behind her grandfather. Gwayne clenched his jaw.

“Do not speak to your sister this way, Rosalynd. Do not speak at all, I advise,” he pointed his finger at his daughter and she looked down again. “Whose idea was it?!”

Both William and Rosalynd pointed their fingers at Edmund. Even Florys stuck her little hand out from behind her grandfather to point at her eldest brother.

“Traitors!” Edmund shouted at them.

You looked down at your son’s face. He winced while the maester was putting an ointment on his injury.

“You’re scarred for life,” you sniffled your tears back. “My sweet boy…”

“I have nearly gained a dragon,” he told you proudly. “And the scar does not bother me, mother, for I have survived the attempt. I shall try again soon.”

“You could never own a dragon, son! Only Targaryens can own and ride them! It is common knowledge!” Gwayne raised his hands up as if he was giving up.

Aegon moved uncomfortably while Edmund shot him a glance full of hatred.

“What is it?” Queen Alicent asked, already sensing her own son’s involvement in this whole thing being much worse than she had expected.

“It was Aegon!” Edmund’s lower lip trembled suddenly. “He told us we could gain our own dragons, too! That we can claim the spare ones or Helaena’s since she has no interest in it!” He confessed.

Now everyone’s angry eyes were laid upon the young Prince. He huffed with an eye roll but his cheeks turned crimson red.

“I did not know,” he whispered. “I did not know that only we can ride them.”

You were filled with rage. Your eldest son liked to pretend he was more mature than the rest of his siblings but he was only twelve after all – he was still a child. Prince Aegon was the eldest out of the cousins and he should had known better.

“You have cruelly teased my children to risk their lives… To… To possibly lose them and die!” You approached him angrily and began to shake him by his arms. You couldn't care less that he was a Prince. You wanted him punished. “And now you are playing a fool by saying such a stupidity! You insolent son of a–”

“(Y/N),” Gwayne stopped you as he rushed to you and put his hand on your shoulder but you shrugged it off.

“Edmund has a scar for life!” You sobbed again.

“Mother, I am alright!” Your son’s voice reached your ears.

“I did not know…!” Scared Aegon was trying to get out of your grip and Queen Alicent was attempting to help him by pushing your hands away.

“Lady Hightower, be reasonable!” She pleaded. “I shall punish my son accordingly but it is my punishment to give him, not yours!”

“My children could have died! All of them!” You screamed at her.

“Not me!” Florys squealed.

“Shush, my darling,” Otto scolded her gently. “All of us should calm down now. After all, everybody is alive, thank Gods,” he pointed out and you pushed Aegon away before angrily turning around.

The maester was no longer sitting by Edmund’s side and now you approached your boy to grab him by his shirt and drag him towards Otto.

“Look at him! My son nearly died!” You yelled at him. “Do not order me to calm down, Lord Father!”

“Mother, let go of me, it hurts,” Edmund whined and you stopped pulling him by his shirt but your whole body was trembling out of anger, fear and frustration. “Young Prince Aegon should learn how to treat other people, especially the weaker ones…” You patted your own chest with your fist and your son huffed at the word weaker. “...if you wish to put him on the throne!” You finished and the whole room went silent.

It was something that should not be said out loud. Thankfully, everyone inside the dining hall was on the same side when it came to the conflict of succession.

“That is enough, my Lady,” Gwayne shook his head and put his hands on your shoulders to walk you out of his surprised father’s sight. “I am sure Prince Aegon will be punished for his behaviour by his own parents.”

“I did not know, I swear!” Aegon whined. “I would not want cousin Edmund or cousin William to get hurt and especially not cousin Rosalynd!”

“Save it!” Queen Alicent scolded him angrily and slapped his face. “You have outdone yourself this time, Aegon!”

Gwayne was rubbing your arms soothingly and pressed you closer to his body by putting his hand in the back of your head. Your heartbeat was slowing down and your breath was coming back to normal.

“I think we should all agree to collectively remove Lady Hightower’s accusation from our memories,” Otto spoke calmly. “And that it is time to go back to our beds.”

All of your children approached you, clinging to your skirts, except for Edmund who felt stupid and guilty now, embarrassed. He was looking down and clasped his hands behind his back but Gwayne put his hand around his shoulders to pull him closer.

“Your grandfather is right, it is time to go back to our beds. If we manage to fall asleep after such a night,” he pointed out.

Prince Aegon did not show up for the breakfast and you were glad he did not because you would tear him apart if you saw him. Now, after taking a better look at your son’s injury in the morning light, you were heartbroken. His scar would probably look intimidating when he would become the fearsome knight he wanted to be but you were his mother and your heart ached for him. 

The breakfast overall was pretty quiet and after the meal Gwayne took your sons to the courtyard to continue their training while Rosalynd and Florys followed Queen Alicent to Princess Helaena’s chambers for the girls to embroider together. Rosalynd also hoped to try on some of Princess Helaena’s dresses. You considered not allowing her to take any as a form of punishment for yesterday's stunt but you eventually decided it would be too cruel.

You were asked by your father-in-law to see him after breakfast and you kind of dreaded the conversation because you had a feeling what it would be about. Gwayne wanted to accompany you but you disagreed because it would make you look weak and scared. You had to face Otto Hightower alone. Gwayne had reluctantly agreed but he had assured you that he would remain by your side no matter what your father-in-law would say to you.

On your way to his chambers, you walked past Prince Aegon’s room. The doors were ajar and he was sitting on the edge of his bed. At first, seeing him brought back all the memories from the last night and all the anger. But after a short while of staring at him, you noticed that he was… sad.

It confused you as you kept staring and in the meantime, he spotted your presence. He got startled a little, knowing that you were alone now since his guard was nowhere to be seen and his mother was not there to push you away if you attacked him again.

He approached the doors to close them but he kept glancing at you like a beaten dog and even dared to speak.

“Is my cousin alright, aunt?” He asked quietly, his voice filled with guilt and worry. Suddenly, you started to have a feeling he had not been lying. Perhaps he truly had not known about the Targaryens being the only people who could ride dragons.

It would not surprise you because your father-in-law had been complaining about Prince Aegon not wanting to study his books and his knowledge of High Valyrian was… questionable.

“Edmund is quite alright,” you nodded at him and took a step ahead before he would close the doors. “Can we talk?”

Aegon hesitated but he looked down and nodded, letting you inside. You entered his chambers and looked around, humming at the sight of a wine goblet on his nightstand table.

“I truly did not know about the dragons, I am sorry,” Aegon confessed. “I know I am of a rather careless nature but I would not risk my cousins’ life,” he added and you sighed.

After a short while of hesitation, you approached him and caressed his hair before putting a silver strand behind his ear and lifting his chin up to make him look into your eyes.

“I am sorry for my outburst, young Prince. I do believe you now,” you assured him with a soft smile. “It still was irresponsible and foolish but I see now that your intentions were not malicious,” you nodded and his eyes sparkled at your words.

“Really? You do believe me, aunt?” He couldn’t be convinced and it made you sad to see it.

“I do,” you moved your hand away from his face. “To see a scar on my son’s face is painful for a mother but I do realise he does not mind it at all and he is proud of how he gained it. Let it be then,” you sighed. “It cannot be undone anyway.”

A short while of silence occurred between you two and you smiled at Aegon before approaching the doors again.

“You should join uncle Gwayne and my sons in the courtyard, my Prince. They are training with Ser Cole and young Prince Aemond,” you encouraged him. “And I shall leave now to speak with your grandfather.”

Aegon nodded at you and you left his chambers to hurry to Otto Hightower’s room where he was already waiting for you. He gave you a scolding look when you entered.

“What took you so long, Lady Hightower?” He asked, sitting on an armchair by the fireplace.

“I was stopped on the way, Lord Father,” you explained calmly and he pointed at the armchair next to his. You took a seat there and waited for him to start the conversation.

“We shall speak about last night,” he started.

“I do believe it was your idea to remove my accusations from the memory,” you reminded and he shot you an unpleasant glance.

“I need to know where you stand,” he looked deep into your eyes.

“Where do I stand?” You furrowed your brows. “What does it matter?”

“You have a great influence on my son. Much bigger than a wife should have on any man,” Otto pointed out. “I need to know I can trust you.”

“Speak plainly, Lord Father,” you challenged him with a head held high. “And I shall tell you.”

Otto hesitated as he looked at the dancing flames for a while. You waited patiently until he eventually laid his eyes on you again with the most serious expression.

“Do you support Prince Aegon as the future King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men?” Otto lowered his voice – his whispers were nearly audible.

“I believe you wish to know if I support your treason,” you raised an eyebrow and Otto clenched his jaw. “I do,” you nodded. “Prince Aegon is half-Hightower and I shall always support my family,” you added and stood up. “Does that answer satisfy you, my Lord? I shall join my sons and husband in the courtyard. I have promised them to watch their training,” you explained.

“You can go,” Otto dismissed you and you turned around but then you stopped.

“Lord Father?” You looked at him one more time.

“Yes?” He looked up to meet your gaze with furrowed brows.

“I shall ensure that my own Lord Father – Lord Tyrell – supports King Aegon when the time comes,” you promised.

Otto only nodded at you and you nodded back before walking out of his chambers and hurrying downstairs to the courtyard.

You smiled at the sight of your boys being instructed by their father. Prince Aegon joined them in the meantime as well and you waved at them all before taking a seat on the bench as usual – to watch and cheer.

After giving your sons their instructions, Gwayne gave them some space and joined your side as he sat next to you.

“What did my father want from you, darling?” He asked, worryingly.

“He wondered about my loyalty,” you scoffed and looked up at your husband’s face to fix a reckless auburn hair strand falling onto his face. “As if I didn’t give him four grandchildren to inherit his wealth and titles. As if I didn’t run Oldtown in his name for years. As if I didn’t love his son with every heartbeat of mine,” you finished quietly and a slight blush brightened your husband’s cheeks.

“Last night must have frightened him,” Gwayne explained. “You were rather furious with Prince Aegon.”

“Every parent would be,” you rolled your eyes. “Were you not furious, too?”

“I was but I did not show it,” Gwayne pointed out.

“Every person reacts differently,” you shrugged. “Either way, such conflicts always happen sooner or later between the family members. I shall not take them outside,” you assured Gwayne and took his hand to squeeze it. “I gave birth to four Hightowers. How could I play on any other team?” You asked, genuinely.

Gwayne squeezed your hand back and moved a little closer to you, as much as his armour allowed him. You both watched your sons train with loving smiles on your faces.

At one point, young Prince Aegon looked at you and smiled at you nervously. You smiled back and waved at him even, which caused his own smile to grow wider. Poor boy had no idea what responsibility was being plotted to be put onto his back.

MASTERLIST

[lullabies-blue]

Thomas Hewitt/ Reader

𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢, 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔴𝔥𝔬 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔫𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔦𝔱? 𝔑𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔫𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔯?

Written in third-person limited POV, focusing on Thomas. Content tags: Neurodivergence, Cannibalism, mentions of rape, Canon typical violence, self harm, Mommy issues, child abuse (mentioned), good vs. evil with nothing in between, religious trauma. Author notes: I honestly intended this to be short and to the point- but here we are. I read a lot of Thomas/Reader stories where Thomas is portrayed as neurotypical and I don't know why it bothers me so much- it's just fanfiction after all, but I wanted to write a short "love" story where Thomas is violent and scared and lonely. He's nonverbal, he's mentally disturbed but not 'slow'. His world is very black and white and full of violence, so that got me wondering- what would love look like for him? What would happen if this man, who has only ever known darkness, met someone who was nice to him? Fair warning, lots of rambling ahead. I also just want to say that I am Autistic and that influenced a lot of this story- from the way that I write, to how I portray characters, to certain interactions. So if anything seems weird to you, I apologize- my mind works in weird ways. If I need to clarify anything, just shoot me a message. I would love to talk about the writing process and why I included certain things. Important: This is about 15k words and NOT even half of it. I had to cut it into pieces, will update the rest in another post.

Thomas brings the axe above his head, his breath ragged as he swings it down and cuts the piece of firewood in half with a low grunt. He’s hot, even though it’s the middle of winter- the weather low even with the sun that hid behind the clouds- and his shirt is sticking to him uncomfortably, the sweat doing nothing to cool him down.

He lodges the axe into the tree stump, grabbing the two pieces of wood and throwing them in the wheelbarrow before he wipes his forehead with dirt covered hands. It was the last chore of the day, and he was tired and sore- a tightness in his shoulders that seemed to spread all the way down to lower back and made him want to get in bed. His mask is damp and tight against his face, the skin underneath irritated. He wants to go inside and change, the thought of taking a shower was frustrating but he knew that he needed one. He could smell himself- bitter with sweat and the slightly suffocating scent that seemed to stick to chickens now clinging to him from when he had cleaned out the chicken coop. His nails were lined with dirt- hands and arms caked in grime. It made him feel heavy and slow.

Uncle Hoyt would drag him to the back and hose him off if he saw him, and he hated that more than he hated cleaning himself off- the feeling of water on his skin something he had never got around to liking. He could handle other things- blood never seemed to churn his stomach, or when Momma or Uncle Hoyt used to ask him to go clean out the pig pen- back when they could afford to have pigs, they were empty now, the whole farm seemed to get emptier and emptier as the months passed- he hadn’t thought that shoveling pig shit into a bucket was all that bad. But he had trouble smelling sometimes, especially with the leather pressed so tight against the place his nose had once been.

He takes the handles of the wheelbarrow, filled with enough dried out wood for the weekend- maybe Monday, if the weather stayed where it was at- and began to haul it towards the house. Momma would need some in the kitchen, to boil water and heat the ovens for Supper when she got back from town. He’d have to check the fireplace on the main floor- sometimes even on the coldest days of winter that room stayed warm enough that if they were to turn on the fireplace it’d be too uncomfortable to sit in. He would wait until Uncle Monty asked for more- he didn’t like it when any of them made decisions for him, more so now that he was stuck in that wheelchair.

There were no fireplaces upstairs, just piles of blankets to layer and hope they did enough to keep them warm. Sometimes it would be enough for him, but there were nights that even with two or three of the ones Momma sewed together for him; he would still lay awake, teeth chattering from the cold. It’s why he hated the cold- he could manage the heat, but winter was unpredictable even in the deep south of Texas.

Uncle Monty is in the living room, asleep in his chair as the TV keeps playing, almost as loud as his snoring. He walks past him, noticing the almost empty fireplace. His footsteps are heavy and loud from the metal on his shoes as he carries an armful of wood into the kitchen. He sets it down on the dining table, right on the white plastic cloth momma had set out before she had left, dirt falls onto the floor and he makes a low, grumbling noise of frustration, hoping that she didn’t see it when she got home.

He had forgotten the plastic mat last time and gotten her favorite tablecloth dirty -the mud staining the light blue cotton forever. He didn’t see why it was such a big deal, Momma had once told him that life was messy, that’s how one knew that they were living it, but she had been so angry at him then- sending him out with the bucket and soap, shouting about the mud he had tracked inside their house. Supper had come late that night- Hoyt growing angry at him. He liked it when it was ready and waiting for him when he got home- shouting at momma that working men weren’t supposed to wait for food.

He had gotten into an argument with him that night- he didn’t like it when people were mean to momma. Uncle Hoyt had called him a bad name- making his blood boil.

He didn’t want that to happen again. He didn’t like how badly he had wanted to hurt Uncle Hoyt at that moment. Momma said that family fought all the time, but he had to be careful not to do anything that he would regret. Maybe he would regret it when his blood stained his clothes, but part of him wasn’t so sure. He liked him better when he was Uncle Charlie. Uncle Hoyt reminded him of the bad men.

He tries not to think about it anymore when he heads back outside to grab a few more pieces of wood for the living room. He didn’t like thinking back on the things that made him angry, sometimes he couldn’t come back from them, and he’d end up doing something bad.

By the time he’s pushing past the double front doors, Momma’s car is pulling into the dirt path off to the side of the house. It’s an old one- rusting from the heat of too many summers, but momma didn’t mind it.

 The car comes to a stop as he picks up another armful of wood and takes it inside.

Ever since Hoyt became Sheriff of the town, things had gotten better for them. There were never days where they went to bed hungry, the meat freezer down in the basement always seemed to have enough for them. If it ever ran low, a Hoyt always seemed to find a way to get it restocked. Momma had taken over the shop in town after the owner had passed away and Hoyt made sure that his son- one of the bad men- went right along with him. He had filled the bellies of those who still stayed in town, too hungry to care enough to question them. Sometimes she brought back what didn’t sell that day and they’d have themselves a little feast. There were days Uncle Hoyt brought a guest with him- always a woman-, other times he’d ask momma to bring his food up to his room- the muffled screaming drowned out by Monty’s TV show.

He liked to stay in the basement on those days. It was harder to hear the pleading and begging as Hoyt played too rough with them. He would always get stuck with getting rid of them afterwards and he was starting to dislike the chore.

By the time he finishes stacking the wood, Momma is calling out for him, the front door swinging open. He freezes- his shoulders squaring and his breath suddenly heavy as he looks up at the hall, hidden between a wall and the fireplace. There was someone with Momma. He could hear the footsteps- Momma walked with a purpose, heavy and loud like him. She said that she did it so God would hear her better, but he wasn’t so sure that God was with them anymore. The ones that came after her were lighter, nervous.

He didn’t like guests. Didn’t like that Momma and uncle Hoyt had developed a habit of taking in strays that would just end up in the basement with him later. They would scream when they saw him- call him those names that made the anger come. Some of them liked to hurt him, momma taking him to the bathroom afterwards and stitching him up.

“You’re going to love my Tommy. He’s a little bit shy but he’s got the sweetest heart.” Momma says and he hears the other person laugh. It’s a soft noise- gentle in a way that manages to make his heart race faster as he tries to crawl deeper into the tiny space. “He’s here around somewhere… but let’s get you set up in your room then you can come down and help me with supper, okay?”

Another laugh, his heart racing uncomfortably in his chest. He didn’t want Momma to find him, he was already so tired.

“Of course,” the stranger says, and she- the thought of a woman in the house irritates him- doesn’t talk like Momma or Hoyt or Monty. Her voice is quiet, it doesn’t drawl out. He’s heard it before- she must be from out of town. “I would love to!”

For a moment, he feels bad for the woman as he hears them go up the stairs. He always feels bad for them at first. Momma said that his heart was too kind. Hoyt called him a pansy boy, in need of toughening up. He doesn’t know why he feels bad, the guests were never good people- he’d always come to learn that, but it never seems to do anything to make the twitch of guilt go away from his heart. The steps grow quieter the farther up they go- until he hears Momma’s muffled voice and then her footsteps coming back down.

She spots him, curled into himself in that tiny, dark space and she sucks her teeth, shaking her head. “Thomas Hewitt, what in the lords name are you doing there?”

He feels embarrassed all of a sudden, getting caught like this. He makes a low noise in his chest, pointing to the firewood.

“Come on and get on out of there if you’re done then, we’ve got company.” She comes down the rest of the steps and makes her way towards him. When she holds out her hand he takes it, a comfort that has his heart slowing down.

 “I need you to go and grab the rest of her stuff from the car- poor girl don’t got no power in her home.” She says with a shake of her head as she pulls and helps him to his feet. “She’ll be staying with us until her electricity gets put back up.”

He shakes his head, this time the noise he makes is in protest, a deep groan of anger. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want her in his house.

Momma frowns, crossing her arms over her chest. “Now listen here Thomas, not everyone is as lucky as we are. Sometimes we have to help those in need.”

He wants to believe her- Momma wasn’t one for lying, after all- but this isn’t anything new. He knew how this would end; with the woman in their bellies and her screams in his head, keeping him awake at night. She would make a mistake and then she’d end up in the basement, begging for her life.

It was like Momma had set her up to fail, like a game that promised a prize that would never come, and Thomas didn’t want to play. Not this time. He shakes his head again, his way of telling her no.

Momma and Uncle Hoyt have a lot in common, no matter how sweet and gentle Momma tried to be, her anger was almost as bad as his. He doesn’t like it when she gets angry at him- everyone was always angry at him- and he can see it in her eyes, making him bend his chin against his chest as he let out a whine, glancing down at the ground. She never hit him, but she would ignore him and that hurt a lot more.

“Then you go on upstairs and tell the poor girl that she’s got to leave. I won’t be the one to break the bad news.” Momma huffs, stomping over to the kitchen. “Tell her you would rather see her freeze than offer a small kindness.”

There it is, that harshness in her voice that makes him tremble, his heart picking up its pace until he feels like he can’t breathe. He shakes his head again, digging his fingers into his arm. He didn’t want to have anything to do with the woman. Didn’t want to be forced to deal with her later but if this is what Momma wanted, then he would do it. He would make her happy.

He lets out another noise, smaller this time and turns towards the door. Part of him is angry- angry that he wasn’t allowed to be angry without being punished. Angry that sometimes it seemed like he wasn’t allowed to have a say when it came to things. He felt as if momma sometimes liked to hurt him on purpose- pushing and pushing until he snapped.

As soon as the thought crosses his mind, he feels the guilt settle in his stomach, hot and suffocating. Momma wasn’t like the bad people. She wouldn’t hurt him. Sometimes he just made her so angry- he knew that. He knew that he was difficult and stubborn and sometimes she got tired of dealing with him.

It wouldn’t be long before the woman disappeared anyways- Hoyt will see her at supper and he’d take her upstairs. The screaming will start, and everyone will act like they couldn’t hear it; Momma would knit, and Monty would turn the volume on the TV up until it was too much. He’d end up sleeping in the basement again, picking at his skin until it was raw and bleeding- the crying twisting his stomach and threatening to swallow him whole.

He just had to wait until then. He would be good until then.

The trunk of the car was left open for him, and he finds the woman’s things waiting for him. It’s not much- a simple backpack, filled with so many things that it ballooned uncomfortably. He grabs it, grunting at the fact that it was heavier than he thought, and slams the trunk close. The car shakes and squeaks at his aggression as he carries the bag inside. He doesn’t like the fact that he’s touching the stranger’s things.

He’s dirty- his fingers staining the bag- but he’s also dirty inside. Rotten from the anger, the bad he’s done. The bad he was going to do. He can feel himself soiling the items inside- turning them just as dirty as him as he walks into the kitchen and sets the bag down on the floor. Momma had taken the firewood he had left and put away the mat. He could feel the warmth of the fire even from where he stood across the oven- filling the room with the scent of smoke. He grunts, wanting Momma to turn around and see that he had done what she asked. He wanted her to smile at him- to ease the way his heart still hammered in frustration.

She turns, but the softness in her eyes isn’t directed at him- she barely looks at him and his heart sinks further down into his stomach, tension building in the back of his neck. He can hear her footsteps now- the creaking of the staircase as she came downstairs. He’s standing in front of a wall, the staircase on the other side. For now, he was hidden- but it wouldn’t be long until she stepped into the kitchen, and he couldn’t hide anymore.

“We’re in here dear,” Momma calls out to her. “Tommy here’s got your bag for you.”

He sees her for the first time out of the corner of his eye- spotting her before she spots him, her eyes on Momma. She’s short- shorter than momma by a bit, and clean and well dressed. Her sweater is thick and colorful, the cuffs of her sleeves neatly folded against her wrists. Something there catches the soft yellow light of the kitchen- a thin golden bracelet halfway hidden beneath the fabric. Her jeans look like they’ve been around for a long time- a different shade of fabric stitched into one of the knees. Her boots are old and worn out, reminding him of his own.

He doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like this feeling that runs through him as he inspects her.

“I really like your house!” she says- voice light and full of excitement that made his mood worsen. “Its-” whatever she was about to say dies in her throat as she turns her head to the left and spots him for the first time.

He doesn’t let her look at his face- turning his head to the side as he folds into himself, chin against chest. He doesn’t like this- doesn’t like that she stares at him without saying anything. He can feel her eyes on him- inspecting him- an animal on display. His chest rises and falls painfully, his breathing hard and loud in the silence. He can feel his hands twitch- his thumb nail grazing along the length of his finger.

“This is my son,” Momma’s voice is tight as she talks. “Tommy this here is our guest. Don’t you want to say hello?”

He shakes his head, his hands trembling. Something wet lands inside the sink and he startles. He hears Momma suck her teeth and he can see her in his mind- shaking her head like she does whenever he does something she doesn’t like.

He doesn’t like this. Doesn’t like that Momma is getting mad at him, that the woman still stands there, watching him tremble in fear. He could already hear it- her laughing as she called him an idiot. They always called him something. They always laughed at him.

“It’s okay,” her voice shakes a bit as she breaks the silence, and she coughs and clears her voice. “I, um, I’m a little shy myself so I know how hard it can be sometimes.” She speaks slowly, her voice almost a low whisper. She tells him her name. Tells him that it’s nice to meet him.

He doesn’t say anything- not that he can, he’s never spoken a single word- but he nods his head, his eyes quickly glancing over at her. She’s still looking at him and his heart almost beats through his ribs. He expects her to be looking at him like they always look at him- filled with disgust and hatred, looking for any excuse to leave, to get as far away as possible from him- but he doesn’t find that in her face.

He finds her mouth twisted downwards and her eyebrows pushed together just a tiny little bit, her eyes gentle and wide. She looked at him as if he was a dog out by the side of the road on a hot summer afternoon refusing help and she had been chasing him with a bowl of water.

She looks at him like there was nothing scary about him. Like he was a man, dirty from a long day at work and not a freak- poor and disfigured- a monster. He had never seen that look from anyone who didn’t live in this house, and it scared him. It terrified him that someone would decide to look at him like that.

But as soon as he met her eyes she looked away, towards Momma- a smile in her voice.

“What are we making for dinner?” she asks, stepping farther into the kitchen and pushing her sleeves up towards her elbows- ready for whatever Momma tells her to do.

The tension disappears just like that, Momma laughing lightly as she places her hand on the woman’s back and pulls her close. “You’re such a darling, helping me out like this. How about you start getting out the pots and pans? They’re over there by the pantry.” She pointed to the cupboards by the fridge and the woman nodded and went straight towards them.

With her back to them- Momma turned and looked at him finally. He could still feel his heart hammering away at his chest, but this was more manageable. He was still waiting for the names to come, for the screaming and the disgust to appear in her eyes. Sometimes when Momma was around people hid it a bit better, but he knew that it wouldn’t be long until they couldn’t hide it anymore.

He expects Momma to still be mad at him- blue eyes dark with anger- but instead she sighs and puts her hand on his shoulder, a silent apology that has his muscles relaxing. The woman pays them no mind- bending down to inspect the cupboard down there.

“Go on and take her bag up to her room and get yourself cleaned up, okay?” She tugs on the collar of his shirt before fixing his hair out of his face. It’s damp from his sweat, but she doesn’t flinch. “She’s a good girl- try to handle her with care, alright?” Her voice is a low whisper- something the woman wasn’t supposed to hear. It unsettles him as he nods along with Momma- not quite understanding what she meant. He doesn’t know if he’s supposed to nod along with her or shake his head, but Momma doesn't wait for an answer, patting him on the cheek before she turns her head and calls out to the woman.

“Honey, Tommy is going to take your bag up to your room- is that alright?”

The woman rises from the ground, two pots neatly stacked in each other in her hands. “Yes,” she says softly- her eyes meeting his. “Thank you, Tommy.”

She smiles at him shyly and his heart begins to hammer against his ribs again. He feels his skin begin to burn- his flesh raw and exposed to her. Even underneath his mask he can feel himself heating up as he looks away, scrambling to grab the bag.

He needed to get away from her- from Momma and her words that he couldn’t understand. He felt like he couldn’t breathe with her here. He stumbles up the steps- feet so heavy against the wood that he swears he can feel the house tremble underneath him.

Momma gave her the room across his- the empty one where she liked to keep the extra bed sheets and towels. But it’s cleaner now as he turns the knob and goes inside, the curtains pulled open to let in the bit of light that still shone from outside- the sun close to setting. The piles of blankets that were on the bed are gone- the sheets neatly tucked into the space between the mattress and the boxspring. There’s a jacket thrown on top- red and faded, the cuffs ripped up on one arm.

He sits the bag right next to it- on the floor, wiping his hands on his jeans. It topples over and he lets out a grunt- fixing it so it sat upright again. He decided that he would stay up here until Momma called him for supper. He wouldn’t go down to the basement while the woman was here- he was worried that she would be stupid enough to follow him down there. That would be the end of her. Blood and flesh and sinew torn from her bones for them to feast on.

He’s careful when he’s leaving the room- closing the door gently so that it doesn’t slam before he hurries off into his own- locking the door behind himself.

Here it’s dark, his windows covered in greased up newspapers. He didn’t like it when it got too bright- when the sun shone through and reminded him of the mess around him. His room is small and cramped and full of things that he had hauled up from the furnace room so that he wasn’t stuck going up and down all the time. Uncle Monty said that he sounded like a ‘goddamned bulldozer,’ stomping around the house when he was trying to sleep. So, it was better this way- even though sometimes he got irritated that there were too many things. But it meant not being bothersome, so he tried not to mind much.

He checks the door again- making sure that he had really locked it, pulling and twisting at the doorknob just to be safe. He knew that no one would come up here and go into his room- Monty was stuck on the first floor, Momma was with the girl in the kitchen preparing supper and Uncle Hoyt wasn’t home yet. But he was always a little paranoid, just the tiniest bit afraid that someone would knock down his door and see everything about him that he had tried so hard to hide. Not even Momma was allowed in here. This was his- the only place where he could hide from everyone, where he didn’t have to worry about anyone disturbing him.

He takes his mask off and it’s not quite the relief he was expecting- the leather inside has gone stiff, his face raw and tender and aching from all the sweat and dirt that had managed to get in. He can feel it as he runs his fingers across his face, a cut on the corner of his lips that wasn’t there last time. It blends into the sores and scarred tissue already there, his skin long ruined. It shouldn’t bother him- but as he opens his mouth and feels the skin stretch and crack, a drop of blood welling up and rolling down his chin- he gets upset, grunting in frustration. He had wanted to clean the mask and add some petroleum to try and soften it up so it wouldn’t bite at his skin anymore- pinching and scratching and making the pain worse. It would have been something to do, something to keep him busy and distracted until he had to face the inevitable, but now it was something that he no longer wanted to do. Why would he? What would it change?

It was never this bad- but ever since his nose began to fall away, it only ever seemed to get worse- no matter what he did or how hard he pleaded for it to just stop and go away- nothing ever changed. There was no one there to listen to his pleas.

With a low groan of frustration, he tears his hand from his face, wiping the blood on the front of his shirt. He hates himself. Hates everything about himself. Momma liked to say that the bad people were liars, that people who were hurting only ever knew how to hurt others- but he knew that wasn’t true. He was a monster. He saw it, looking back at him in the mirror- wild and ugly and evil, everything that he did not want to be. He hated taking his mask off- hated knowing that the man that existed underneath it was the same man that he was trying to escape from.

Coming here was a mistake. He should have stayed downstairs, should have gone out back to the barn- there he would have found something, anything, to do.

He takes a breath like Momma showed him, trying to push the anger away- down, down, down, until he couldn’t feel it slithering through his veins and pounding in the back of his head. He just had to focus on something else-he liked it when he had chores, things to do that kept him busy and away from the bad thoughts. He takes another deep breath through his mouth- dirt and salt on his lips as he picks up the mask and tries to clean it off on his clothing. It does nothing but lift the dust off into the air as he places it on his face, tightening it too much across his head, leather digging into tender skin. He would take a bath, change his clothes, then sit in bed and wait. Uncle Hoyt would come an hour after the sun disappeared and then he would have to go downstairs. He didn’t want to go downstairs.

He didn’t want to feel the bad feelings anymore. The fear, the anger. The woman would look at him and his throat would tighten, and his heart would beat painfully. He hadn’t liked that feeling- trapped in his own skin, unable to get away. Yet at the same time, he wanted her to look at him. No one ever looked at him.

He could still feel her eyes- soft and warm on his skin, simultaneously calming and worsening his anger. He was half embarrassed- covered in dirt and sweat stains, his clothing old and faded- Did she think that he was disgusting? He was always messy in everything that he did- always having to teach himself how to do things. Filth had never been a stranger. Had never bothered him. But he finds himself wanting to wash the grime and sweat from himself- even if he was just going to put the same clothes back on.

His stomach growls, empty and needy as he unlocks the door and roughly pushes it open- he finds the woman outside of it.

The door swings open, the gust of wind pushing her hair around as the door barely manages to miss her. She’s looking up at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly open- her arms up by her chest. It scares him, seeing her there and he makes a messy, garbled noise of surprise.

“Sorry!” she speaks fast, her words all pushed together. “I was just trying to find the bathroom!”

He feels his heart beating in his throat, muscles tense and solid as he stares down at her. She’s so much shorter than he thought- he could reach out and crush her throat in his hand and it wouldn’t take much force to do so. He’s almost tempted to, his fingers twitching at his sides. Momma would get mad at him when he dragged her body downstairs- but she would forget eventually.

“I’m in your way- I,” she takes a step back, her eyes finally releasing his. “I’m sorry, I’m just-”

He grunts. Low and short- his way of telling her to stop talking. Nothing she says is making any sense to him and the sound of her voice makes his heart hammer at his chest. Thunderous and loud and painful. It scares him how easily she does that to him. Such a small thing like her, carelessly walking into a house where God was nowhere to be found without a single ounce of caution. He could take her to his room, and no one would hear her scream. He could scare her more than she scared him.

She squirms in the silence like a rat stuck in a trap. She tugs at her sleeve, at her collar- his breathing loud as he watches her- watches her chest rise and fall with every breath, her eyes on the space between them.

 Another grunt and she startles backwards, looking up at him. This time, when her eyes meet his own, he doesn’t cower even though his body tenses and he can already feel her pulse beneath his hand.

 His body is stiff as he steps out of his room and moves out of the way of the door- he has to turn his back to her and for a split-second, panic runs cold and fast through his veins as he remembers the woman who had stabbed him. The door slams close as he turns around quickly, eyes wide and wild as he looks down at her hands.

He expects to see a knife pointed at him- the scar on his shoulder aching from the memory of being sliced apart, the pain still there even after all the months that have passed since. He hadn’t done anything to deserve that pain- the woman and her friends had attacked first, had tried to hurt his family. Uncle Hoyt had told him, so had Momma with tears in her eyes and blood splatters on her dress. They were bad people who wanted to do bad things to them, and it was his responsibility to protect them- to keep them safe. It hadn’t mattered that his hands shook so hard with fear, and he could taste vomit at the back of his throat, vile and burning, he had to protect them. They were all that he had. He couldn’t- wouldn’t- lose them.

He was panting as he searched the woman and finds nothing in her hands, her eyes widening as she takes another step away from him.

 Was she scared?

Did she finally see it? The evil that radiated off of him that others seemed to see- always scared of getting too close to him- He was a disease on this town. A burden. Did he finally scare her?

Would she scream?

Was she going to hurt him- just like everyone else? Drive a knife into his flesh- a pain that would only last for so long before it faded into a memory that he refused to think of. A pain that wouldn’t be so bad compared to the shame that churned his stomach whenever a stranger screamed when they saw him.

He waited- teeth clamped together as he stared her down in the heavy silence.

He watched as her lips part, lower lip trembling slightly. If she screamed, he would hurt her before she could hurt him. If she screamed, she would be nothing but a pile of bones, tossed into the fire by the time the sun rose tomorrow.

Scream, he thought, fingers twitching at his sides. Scream already and let this end already.

“You’re scared of me, aren’t you?” she whispers and her voice trembles even as she keeps talking. “I can tell- you’re looking at me like I just pulled out a gun on you or something.” She lifts her hands towards him and moves them back and forth, as if she was showing him that he had nothing to worry about. “But my hands are empty-”

She lifts her hands, palms facing him, and wiggles her fingers. “If it makes you feel better, apart from a kitchen knife I don’t think I’ve ever held a weapon.” She smiles oddly at him- as if she wasn’t sure how to do so, her eyes still wide and unblinking. As if she was worried that he would lunge at her at any second.

He doesn’t like how his body seems to let go of its worries and fears so fast, his shoulders drooping and his heartbeat slowing down until it’s no longer pounding against his ears as the ringing slowly starts to disappear. He unclenches his teeth, the pain still lingering in his jaw and neck, and suddenly, he’s no longer thinking of hurting the woman- of how easy he would have snapped her neck. He still could, part of him even ached and begged for him to do it. To get it over with.

But he doesn’t listen to that part of him that never truly seemed to go away- always begging for blood, for a voice that would finally be heard. He’s staring at her hands instead, focusing on the tips of her fingers that are flushed pink. He notices the birthmark on her left middle finger- a tiny dot right underneath the crease of her knuckle. He notices all the tiny little lines that make up her palms and the way her thumb trembles lightly.

He did not like her.

He did not like the way something as simple as her hands was enough to draw his attention- his eyes seeking out the tiny little patterns between her fingers. He did not like how her voice could soothe him so easily when he wanted nothing but to crush her- to take her, to taste her flesh on his tongue and her blood on his lips.

He did not like how she called out to him as he just stared at her- stared through her, voice gentle with his name. It wasn’t the same as when Momma said it though. This felt like a spell, a bad omen- Satan’s own voice whispering temptation in his ear. Sweet and gentle and unfamiliar.

She made him feel the same way he had felt that one night he had snuck upstairs to watch Uncle Hoyt and his new friend. He had pushed the door open just enough so that he could see but still stay hidden from the light. He hadn’t made a single noise as he watched Hoyt undo his pants and pull the woman’s legs apart. He hadn’t been able to see much from his hiding place, but what he heard had sent a shock of electricity through his body- blood boiling with need as he listened to the crying and the begging and the sound of something slick being hit over and over again. His stomach churned the same it had that night- tight and hot and restless for something that he could not give it.

He lets out a whine- deep and guttural and full of frustration. Go away, he wants to yell at her. Go away before you ruin everything.

“Tommy…?” she asks again, not understanding his plea.

He whines again and it takes him a second to realize that he’s scratching at his arm- digging his fingers into the old scars there and agitating the skin. It hurts. But that pain is familiar and calming and helps him focus on something other than the panic rising in his throat.

She was messing it all up.

 It’s supposed to just be the four of them- Momma, Hoyt, Monty and him. It’s always been just the four of them. There wasn’t enough space here for her. She was too much of a change to get used to- too loud, too much. Even if he went and hid in the basement until Momma got tired of her, he knew that he would still be able to feel her through the walls, a choking weight in the air that would only poison him until he forgot what it was like to be ignored and cautious even in his own home. He’d be able to hear her- hear her laugh, her steps, the tiny little noises she would come to make the more time went on. She would fill this house with her until she soaked the walls and filled in the foundation. Until everyone forgot that she had a stranger at one point- a spontaneous good dead in all the bad they dealt in.

And even then- what would stop Hoyt from taking her to the room where almost all of the women ended up in? From the emptiness of their bellies that might make them remember that she wasn’t one of them- that she was the answer to their starvation?

He's sinking his nails in harder- the thin skin underneath breaks and he itches at the spot as if there was something alive and buzzing under the flesh. He doesn’t feel the pain as the blood begins to gather underneath his dirty nails. He can see it, even in the dim light- but he can’t feel it. Can’t stop. He digs and digs and digs, hoping for the thoughts to stop- for the voices to stop telling him that he had to kill her. That if he didn’t, he had to make sure that she never left- that this house swallowed her whole and kept her from running, from leaving them. Leaving him. If she tried to run, he could keep her in the furnace room; could tie her up and warn her that if she wasn’t good, she wouldn’t be able to stay.

He could be good to her. He would learn if he had to, would ask Momma to teach him to be gentle and kind. He would not make her angry, would not make her cry or scare her away as long as she listened to him. As long as she stayed with him.

He’s lost, stuck in the farthest corner of his mind, in a future that would stop existing if he simply reached out and touched her. All he had to do was cover her face with his hand, she would be too surprised to fight him off when he pressed her against the wall and kept her there-the weight of him against her back. He could already feel her as she squirmed against him- her body unable to stand still as her lungs began to burn. He could already feel her warmth through his clothes, feel the way his heart would race as she sank her fingers into his skin, drawing blood from fear and desperation. His fear would seep into her flesh, make her lash out more. Her pain would become his and they would be inseparable in that moment.

 It’s when he feels her- fingers cold and desperate as she prods and pulls at his arms, forcing them apart that he returns to reality- to the dimly lit hall, the heat of the fireplace already seeping through the cracks in the foundation. He can feel the way her arms tremble, her fingertips burning holes into his skin.

The woman’s eyes are wild when he looks at her, all wet and round- something in them, in the way she looks at him, makes his heart fill with lead- knocking against his ribs painfully.

“It’s okay!” she says, her voice panicked as she keeps repeating it over and over again, almost as if she’s trying to convince herself- or maybe she thinks that if she says it enough times it’d become true.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” she repeats, her eyes on his as she pulls his arms towards her. “We just have to get this cleaned up and it’ll be okay.”

He doesn’t budge when she tries to pull him towards the staircase- instead, he watches as she stumbles over her own feet, her hands sliding down his arms.

“We need to get this clean,” she’s pleading now, tugging at him to get him to move. “It’s going to get infected if we don’t and there’s no doctor in town anymore-” the more she talks, the more hysterical she begins to sound, her voice growing higher. “I don’t know where the bathroom is, but we can go down to the kitchen, Luda M-”

He doesn’t let her finish, easily pulling his uninjured arm free from her. He didn’t want Momma to know. To see the mess that he made of himself. She would yell at him if he was lucky- tell him that he was sick in the head, hurting himself like a damn fool again.  But he knew that Momma wouldn’t be kind like that- she would take one look at him, dripping blood on the floor and she would blame the woman for his pain.

He could already hear her yelling, the shrill sound bouncing through his head. Momma wouldn’t care to listen, to see anything other than what she wanted. Momma was like that- kind and sweet and quiet until someone was stupid enough to go after the family. He was like her in a way, protective of them all. He liked to think that he got it from her- that he couldn’t possibly be bad when Momma’s blood ran through him, sweet and caring.

He couldn’t let Momma find out. Not now- not when he had decided that the woman standing in front of him was worth more to him alive than chopped up into pieces that would fit into the deep freezer.

 With a grunt that shuts the woman up from her rambling, he grabs her arm. She’s soft and small under his touch- her sweater itching at his palm as he begins to pull her deeper into the hallway, into the darkness. Away from Momma. Away from a future he wanted no part in.

“No, Tommy we have to go downstairs. I don’t know what to do.” Her voice is shaky as she takes a couple steps forward before planting her feet and refusing to keep going. “Your mom might me better at this than me, please.” She pleads even as she begins to walk again when he refuses to stop.

He tries to tell her that Momma couldn’t find out. That if she did then he wouldn’t be able to protect her- to keep her safe. Momma would tell him to get rid of her and he always did what Momma wanted, even if sometimes he didn’t want to.

He loves Momma. Loves her more than Uncle Hoyt or Monty. He loves her more than anything or anyone- even himself. He could suffer through any pain as long as Momma was with him- as long as she was happy with him.

He tries to tell her that he knows exactly what he’s doing, but all his words come out as a garbled mess of a groan, the muscles in his throat too weak to form any actual words. It frustrates him- hearing himself talk in a way that no one would ever understand.

He lets out a low howl, that frustration growing when she stops walking again. He has to be careful not to hurt her- he didn’t want to accidentally pull her arm too hard if she was going to make this a habit. He just needed to get her to the bathroom. She had to wash off the blood on her hands before she went back downstairs. He could take care of his injuries himself- Momma had taught him how to clean and bandage cuts and bruises. Though he wasn’t concerned with the open wound dripping blood down his arm.

Right now, he needed to get the woman to understand that Momma couldn’t find out about this. That if she went down those steps, stained with his blood, then there was nothing he could do to keep Momma from lashing out. Facing her, he points to himself- finger beating against his chest twice before he points at her.

He’s watching her- his eyes on her as she watches him repeat the action two more times. Her face is flushed, her eyebrows pushed together, and he begins to worry that she���s not understanding him, that now that he’s let go of her, she was going to be stupid and try to push him back towards the stairs.

Letting out a small whimper, he grabs at her wrist. She’s pliant under his touch- her skin cool and soft. Touching her reminds him of the Cattle fences that were used back when the Slaughterhouse had been open. He had touched one by accident, not fully understanding why they had so many warnings signs- and just like back then, something hot and quick ran through him. Back then, the muscles in his fingers and arms had tensed and burned, taking away all his strength. But touching her, feeling the way his scarred thumb slid against the thin skin on her wrist- felt like a shockwave of warmth had run through him- intense and disorienting and addictive.

It scared him, but he didn’t let go of her even though his brain was yelling at him to stop touching her. He couldn’t. He had to keep her safe. Slowly, he began to raise her hand towards him, his mouth opening as he made a noise from the bottom of his throat.

He looked at her face as he pressed the back of her hand against his chest. She was already staring at him, her lips twisted into a frown. He couldn’t look into her eyes for too long, something in him ached when he did, so he kept his eyes on her mouth as he tapped her hand against his chest. That same warmth that was spreading through his arm poisoned his chest. He could feel it in his throat, in the depth of his belly- It knocked around in his head until he was dizzy.

For a moment, with her hand on him and his eyes still glued to her lips, he forgets about the bad people who called him all those bad words. He forgets all of the evil that he’s done, all the screams that haunt him, all the blood that he can never wash off.

He finds the confidence to raise his eyes to her own and part of him is scared that in them he would find disgust at having to touch something like him. A smaller, quieter, part wonders if she feels it too- the electricity that flows out of her and through him. He wants her to tell him that she feels him in her- that he’s also warm and electric through her veins. He wants her to tell him that a real monster wouldn’t feel the way he did- that if he really was a monster, the softness in her eyes wouldn’t be affecting him so much.

Dropping his eyes, he taps his chest with her hand twice before pointing it towards him. He does it one more time before he lets go of her. He expects her to pull her hand away, but instead she lets it linger on his shirt, the dirt and stains not bothering her. He wonders if she can feel the way his heart knocks against his ribs.

“You want me to follow you?” her voice cracks a bit as she takes her hand away.

He nods, grunting as he motions to a door off to the side behind him before he lifts his bloodied arm and runs his hand over the scratches- they’ve stopped bleeding already, his arm a mess of blood stains and dirt. Pointing behind here, towards the staircase he shakes his head, bringing his hand back towards his arm and covering the mess he made.

She doesn’t say anything as she tries to piece everything together- her face twisting into itself as she thinks. He repeats the movement, groaning when he points at the staircase and once more when he covers the cuts. ‘Not safe,’ he tries to tell her, ‘Take care of it here.’

Realization makes her eyes brighten, her features smoothing out. “You don’t want Luda Mae to find out?”

It’s not exactly what he was trying to say but he lets it be, seeing as it was close enough. She could have thought that he wanted her to go down and grab Momma- and he was worried that with how small she was she would take off running before he could stop her. In trying to help she would run straight into her end.

The thought made his stomach drop- a sudden chill rocking through him.

“Tommy- I don’t know if I can do anything about that…” she pauses, and he watches as she reaches for him, taking his arm in both of her hands. Her touch burns him again, and this time he can’t stop the small whine of delight from escaping his lips. Her mouth twists down as she inspects his arm- and he tenses, waiting for her to start yelling at him, for the bad names to come. But they don’t- she stays silent, her eyes glued to his arm.

The damage isn’t bad- compared to the collection of scars that line both of his arms, this was nothing. He had scratched a small hole in his forearm- breaking the skin and tearing apart the bit of muscle and fat there. He was lucky that he hadn’t hit anything vital- that he had stopped when he did.

When he was younger, he had taken to cutting- tearing flesh from his body and slicing himself open as a punishment for his mistakes, for his bad thoughts. He had done a good job of keeping it from Momma until the night he had cut too deep, and the blood wouldn’t stop. He had ran to her, howling in fear- bloody arm pressed against his chest. She had made Uncle Monty hold him down while she stitched him together, only a glass of whiskey to keep the pain away. She had yelled at him the entire time-first with tears in her eyes then when they had dried up and she had finished sewing his skin together- she had taken the belt and beaten him raw. When she got tired of beating him, she had told him that this was all Satan’s fault- that she had no choice but to beat the devil out of him. God was gonna soothe his pain, his fears, his anguish. He would see, Momma liked to say. She had kissed him on the forehead, and he swore he had seen the devil on her shoulder, laughing at him.

The pain hadn’t convinced him to stop- he simply learned how to hide it better, how to keep things clean, how to stitch himself together on those nights that he fantasized about finding peace in death. He learned where to cut and how deep to dig- and eventually, Momma made herself forget it ever happened at all. Sometimes, he thought that she was afraid of God- of making him angry, of him turning his back on her. It’s why he didn’t tell her that every once in a while, he could feel the devil itself pumping through his veins. Taunting him.

The woman gently turns his arm, and he pulls himself from the memories, watching as her fingers caress his skin. She’s too trusting- doesn’t she see the danger that she’s in? How easily he could overpower her? This was a Godless house, no matter what Momma and Hoyt thought- he knew the truth. He knew that they were all rotten, inside and out. She would be ruined by them all if she stayed. He would ruin her with his sins-but his guilt wasn’t strong enough to stop his desires.

“It looks a lot worse than it is, doesn’t it?” she asks him, but he doesn’t answer- too busy watching the way she touches him- her touch making his breath deepen.

He likes the way she doesn’t mind that his blood is on her hands- twisted into the tiny cracks of her bracelet. She’s careful and slow as she traces the tip of her index finger above the crater he had created in his flesh. He’s almost tempted to push her hand down- to feel her flesh against the inside of his own, to have her hurt him before he could hurt her- but she moves her hand away before he can make up his mind.

“Okay…” she sighs, not letting go of him. “Show me what to do.”

He grunts in satisfaction, the weight of Momma finding out and the woman being punished lifting from his shoulders. Slowly, he turns the arm she cradled in her hands so that he was grabbing her instead- his hand swallowing hers.

He tries not to think about it too much as he tugs gently and finds no resistance in her steps. He almost smiles- lip twitching against the leather on his face as he leads her to the bathroom. Inside him, the devil starts to dance in glee.

The room is cold as he pushes open the door and pulls her inside before he follows. He can feel the cold seep into his thin shirt, see it with every exhale when he turns on the light and shuts the door, dropping the woman’s hand. She shivers and he wants to know if it’s from the cold or the fact that he’s no longer touching her.

The light flickers and dies for a couple seconds, leaving them in darkness before it turns back on- low and yellow like all the others in the house. It makes the woman’s skin look sickly- washing her out as she blinks and tries to get used to the light.

“We have to clean it,” she’s already walking around him, towards the sink. It’s a small one, too low for him to reach without having to bend his knees uncomfortably. Maybe that’s why she pauses mid-sentence- was she trying to picture him, hunched over as he scrubbed the dirt and blood and sweat from his arms?

The thought of her thinking about him- caring about him- splits him in two, a feeling that he’s never experienced before.

“Where are the towels?” she asks, turning around to face him. “If we lay some down on the floor it should keep the mess down a bit, right?”

He doesn’t tell her that it’s not a good idea- that a pile of soaking towels would raise questions that need to stay buried instead. So, he shakes his head, already closing the small distance between them.

The bathroom is small- all of them are. The tiles on the walls are a faded green color, some of them cracked- some of them are separated by mold- the caulk so old and weathered by age and neglect. He hopes that she doesn’t see them- his blood warming in embarrassment as he tells himself that he would fix them later, before she realized that this house was falling apart right under their feet.

The toilet and sink and the bathtub are old- not quite as stained, but still the same faded shade as the tiles that surrounded them. Under the harsh yellow light, it all looked a mess. At least it wasn’t like Hoyt’s bathroom- with too many colors and carpet all over the floors that trapped the smell of tobacco and sweat and soap, the steam that seemed to linger and stick to the walls doing nothing to lessen the stench.

He’s careful as he walks around her- suddenly aware of just how close they were. In here, with the door closed, being near to her seemed almost intimate in a way that he could not quite grasp.

He was used to being alone with people- usually they were screaming and begging, or already half-dead, delirious and confused from the pain and the blood loss. He was used to them thrashing and running and fighting back- hitting him with their fists, kicking him, throwing whatever they managed to get ahold of. They would always scare him when they did that- the pain eventually making him mad until he lashed out and hurt them on purpose.

They didn’t seem to understand that he didn’t want to make them suffer- that he was being kind- taking their lives quickly so that they didn’t have to be so afraid.

He was used to the screaming, the name calling- no matter how scared or afraid he got, he always knew how it would end.

With the woman, he had touched her- she had touched him- without screaming, without her begging or flinching or trying to run away. Out in the hall there had been enough space for him if he needed to get away, but here it was just the two of them- existing in a space that no one else seemed to belong in.

It terrified him just as much as it thrilled him. It made him feel the same way as when he had to chased down someone that had slipped out of his hold- but this time his mind wasn’t telling him to kill. This time, as he stood besides the woman, her eyes on him as he turned on the faucet and waited for the water to warm, something inside of him was telling him to chase her down in a completely different way- to keep her at his side.

Even if he had to chain her and train her- he did not want her to leave. He would not let her leave.

He remembers when he had first started at the Slaughterhouse, when he had been put to work with the cows- separating the babies from the mothers as soon as they were born. He would take them- carefully scooping them up in his arms, a child at the time, not knowing better, not knowing what it was that he was doing- and carry them to another part of the barn where he would drop them into cages so small that even he couldn’t fit inside.

They would cry and shake, unable to stand, unable to realize what lay ahead of them. He would feed them scraps he had stolen from the feeding center- oats or barley or even handfuls of grass from outside- shoving his hand through and letting them eat from his hand. They would calm down, even though they could not stand fully- their heads hunched over and pressed against the metal. He would show them that even if they weren’t going to live long- even if the world around them didn’t seem to care for them- they weren’t alone.

She did not have to be caged like them- though if he had to, he would keep her locked up if it meant keeping her beside him. Down in the basement where no one would hear her- where no one would disturb them, he would get her to see that he was a kind man, that he only wanted what was best for her.

She was already so much like the calves from back then- stupid and small and too trusting of him. It wouldn’t be hard to break her, to convince her that it was all her fault- that there was nothing left for her outside this home.

When the water heats up- steam rising and filling his lungs- he runs his fingers under the stream. Dirt and blood stain the sink, the hot water turning his fingers pink. It hurts, but not enough for him to stop. He rubs his hands together, the water turning pink as it drains. He can feel her eyes on him as he scrubs the grains of dirt from his skin.

For some reason, it embarrasses him- having her watch him do something so mundane and ordinary. He almost swore that he could feel the warmth from her eyes on his skin- hotter than the water. It makes the simple task suddenly seem foolish, makes him feel as if this was the first time he was doing it and he wasn’t sure if it was right or wrong.

With a grunt he tries to push the thoughts from his mind- cupping his hand and filling it with water before he splashes it onto his arm, onto the wound he had given himself. It makes a mess- water splashing onto his rolled sleeve and onto the floor, the sink too small to prevent the mess.

“Can I?” she says- and she’s suddenly closer than he had thought, her body pressed against his side. He can feel her through his shirt, through the thick fabric of her sweater. He swears that he can feel the softness of her body, the beating of her heart, the blood rushing through her veins on his very skin. It makes his heart leap into his throat- the sudden touch making him want to push her head into the glass of the medicine cabinet or pull her closer- he wasn’t sure which one he wanted to do most.

He stands still, body tense as she reaches for him, grabbing his arm and lifting it closer. She must have found the linen closet- an old, red washcloth in her other hand which she places underneath the running water. She hisses, pulling her hand away and opens the cold water.

“Doesn’t that hurt you?” she asks- and there’s no anger in her voice, no underlying judgement that has him tensing up, muscles rippling with dread that he had done something wrong. Momma liked to talk to him like that sometimes. She liked to ask questions that made him feel bad, that made him regret coming to her- guilty that he had bothered her. Hurt that she saw him as something bothersome.

He shakes his head, his way of telling her that no, it wasn’t hurting him. If he had a voice, he would tell her that his skin is so damaged that he could barely feel it, that some days he even preferred it- he liked the way his skin turned red and pulsed in a way that was almost comfortable, soothing.

“This will feel much better,” she holds her fingers under the water, and once it’s at a comfortable temperature she lets it run over the washcloth. “Tell me if I’m hurting you, okay?”

He nods sharply and she smiles at him- the corners of her mouth lifting. He expects her to rub the wound directly, desperate to clean it off before infection sets in. Instead, to his surprise, she wipes around the length of it- scrubbing gently at the blood matting the hair on his arm. The hand holding his arm is gentle, her fingers sinking into his soft flesh and holding him still.

He watches her- watches the concentration on her face that has her eyebrows knitted together as she wipes and rinses, repeating those two motions over and over and over again until his skin is cleaner- until the dirt is gone and there’s nothing left to hide the many sins he carried on his skin.

She pauses- and he can almost read her mind at that moment. He can see it in the tension in her wrist, feel it in the way her fingers tremble just a fraction of a second before they dig a little deeper into his arm. The feeling of her nails scratching at him isn’t painful, but it startles him just the same as if it were- a warmth growing in his chest that travels down to his belly and pools there- filling him with a different sort of sin.

He expects her to say something about the hundreds of tiny little cuts and bruises that she’s unearthed- he can feel it hang heavy in the air- his lips tingling from anticipation. From the worry that she would open her mouth and ruin it all.

It would either be disgust or pity- and he wanted neither. The scars were his to carry- his own punishment for his terrible deeds. Uncle Hoyt always cringed and acted like he didn’t see them- even though his mouth and face twisted as if he had eaten something sour. The pity always came from Momma- her hands on his as she prayed to God to take away whatever burdens he seemed to be carrying around in his heart. She wouldn’t touch them- maybe out of fear, or anger, or maybe just like Uncle Hoyt, she was disgusted as well- scared that if she touched the scars, they would somehow ruin her as well.

The corners of the woman’s mouth are still twisted down when she glances up at him- her eyes too dark to read. He wonders what he looks like in her eyes- what is it that she sees in him that no one else seems to see?

He waits for her to talk- to break the tense silence that’s choking him- but she doesn’t say a word, dropping her eyes as she picks up the bar of soap that’s been there for months. It almost slips out of her hand, and she lets go of him completely- his arm frozen in place, his body already missing hers. The tension disappears, as if nothing had ever happened, as if it had never been there to begin with. It rolls from the points of pressure that she had left behind on his flesh and up his arms. It moves in his veins, thick and syrupy- coating all of him in a feeling that’s doesn’t sit right.

Maybe he did want her to speak- to pity him after all. But the moment is gone, and he doesn’t have a voice to bring it back- to tell her what he was feeling, so he lets the discomfort drown him just a bit as he watches her act like nothing wrong had happened.

She rubs the bar between her hands, underneath the stream of water and his heart sinks at the thought of her cleaning all traces of him from her skin- he wanted to coat her in all that he was- his scent, his hatred, the bitter taste in his mouth that never seemed to go away- he wanted her to have it all, to carry him even if they were apart for a split second. An extension of him- equally as fearsome.

“Come here,” she motions for him to bring his arm towards her hands, letting the bar fall into the sink. Her hands are covered in soap as she takes his arm in between them- gently scrubbing from his wrist to the inside of his elbow, where his rolled-up sleeve sat. At first, she doesn’t touch the wound- and he can feel the hesitation in her fingers as she scrubs at his arm, circling around it. She scrubs at his skin, at the spaces between his fingers, taking his hand in her own and gently massaging it.

It's the first time anyone has done something like that to him- and while he can’t understand why she was being so thorough when it would have been easier to just hand him the soap and let him do it, he has no intention of stopping her.

He simply watches and enjoys- his mouth twisted into the closest thing of a smile that he could manage underneath his mask.

“Tell me if I hurt you, okay?” she says quietly, and it takes him a second to understand her words, his mind lost even to himself- her fingers lightly press against the cut as she speaks, drawing him back into reality. He tenses as she begins to clean it out, rubbing soapy water into it. It doesn’t hurt- not with how light and slow she moves her hand, her finger dipping into the hole he had scratched open. He expects it to hurt or sting or startle him- but pain doesn’t come. Instead, he groans in delight- enjoying the way her finger seems to be tearing into him, stretching his skin open. It’s like she’s making space for herself inside of him- forcing herself into the parts of him that held him together, sinew and muscle and blood- now poisoned with whatever sickness the woman had inflicted in his heart.

“Sorry!” she says quickly, pulling her hand away from him. The once white bubbles between her fingers are now a soft shade of pink, mixed with his blood. It all disappears down the drain as she rinses her hand, drying them on the front of her jeans.

He grows frustrated at the fact that there’s no way to tell her that she hadn’t hurt him- that he wanted her to do it again. That the pain she caused him was almost addictive- sweeter than the whiskey Uncle Monty sometimes let him have whenever he was in a good enough mood to share.

The woman motions for him to rinse his arm, already cupping her hands together under the faucet and letting the cool water pool between her hands. He angles his arm awkwardly into the sink and she lets the water trickle from between her fingers over his arm slowly. He watches as she repeats the motion, rinsing his arm- it’s so trivial and boring, yet he’s in awe as she takes care of him.

Without a second thought, the woman is already devoting herself to the mundanity of life with him. He could see it as she turns the water off and tells him to wait- as if he would leave her side, as if he could do something so absolutely stupid- subjecting himself to an agony he had no intention of experiencing firsthand.

He hears the closet door open behind him, making him turn around and look at the woman as she rummages through old fitted blankets, washcloths and towels until she finds what she needs. With one hand pressed against the pile of folded towels she pulls one free, tossing it over her arm. “I don’t know how long this has been here for-” as she talks, she moves onto her toes, stretching her arm out as she reaches for something on one of the top shelves.

He almost moves to help her, his body already swaying in place, eager to move, to make himself useful to the woman. But he spends too long trying to decide- her hand closing around whatever it was that she had seen earlier. She lets out a small noise of delight as she drops down to the balls of her feet, and it wracks through him, sending a shiver of warmth up his spine that spreads across his chest- tightening the muscles in his lower belly.

“Expired medicine and antibiotics are better than nothing, right?” She asks as he turns and faces him- lips curved up into a smile and he almost finds himself mimicking it- the corners of his lips twitching. He catches himself, hot embarrassment forcing his eyes to drop from her face- down to the small plastic medicine bin in her hands. It did not matter that he had his mask to hide behind, the way she looked at him made him feel as if she could somehow see through it- his face exposed for whatever ridicule and insults she would eventually throw at him.

 There are bottles of pills stacked on top of one another- the type that Momma used to give him when he was feverish. It would take his sickness as well as his hunger- leaving him too heavy to do anything but lay in bed until the heat of his body burned through the drug. There are other things as well- gauze and bandages, silver packages of pills he couldn’t identify, the label worn off a long time ago- a bottle of Vaseline, faded from the years sits next to a glass jar of Vapor-Rub. Looking at it, he swears that he can smell it even with how far away from the jar he was- even though his nose hasn’t worked properly for months, he feels the ghost of it wrinkle as he cringes from the offensive smell his mind reminds him of.

Momma used to slather him with it when he had first started working at the Slaughterhouse. He hadn’t been used to the smell of it back then and every day he went back had been miserable. The scent of death and blood and shit had soured his stomach until he had gone and thrown up the oatmeal Momma had made for breakfast all over his worktable. All over the slab of meat he had been told to break down. He can still remember the taste of animal blood on his tongue after he had wiped his mouth- forgetting that his hands and arms and chest had been covered in chunks of offal. His boss had called him every bad word under the sun-some were words that he had never heard before, now fully engrained in his mind, tearing at his heart once Monty had told him what they meant.

When he had gone home that night, after scrubbing his station clean- the blood mixing with his waste underneath his nails, in the strands of his hair and in between the cracks of his boots, Momma had slapped him. She had been waiting for him on the porch, her face twisted down in anger, the blue of her eyes dark and cold behind her glasses.

She had called him a great big idiot- uncaring of how dirty he had been, of how hard he had silently prayed to God for the day to hurry up and end so that he could leave and go home. At one point, when the bell for Lunch had rung and he was forced to stay and catch up to everyone else- his boss throwing what Momma had packed for him in the garbage before spitting on it with a laugh- he had wanted to die, his chest burning every single time he brought the cleaver down. He had wanted to die right then and there- to stop existing all together. To be nothing but the air around him- free from the bad people, from the stares, from feeling like all that he did was somehow inherently wrong. No matter if it was an accident or not, no one ever seemed to care enough to listen to him.

Momma had gotten a call from the Slaughterhouse- telling her that because of his careless mistake he would have to be let go. Momma had told him, as she dragged him to the hose out back, that she had begged and begged and begged for them to give him a second chance. They couldn’t lose his income, not with Uncle Monty getting less hours at his job and the Government cutting Uncle Hoyt’s veteran checks so suddenly. They were barely making ends meet as it was- this would ruin them.

She had yelled and shouted, spraying him with cold water until he was a shivering mess, the blood no longer crusted over on his skin. He could feel the cold water pooling in his boots, making his socks stick to his toes. It hadn’t even mattered to him then, his heart hammering away at his chest at the thought of never having to go back. Of not having to wake up so early to walk all the way to the other side of town in a place that he hated.

He didn’t even mind when Momma had beat him, welts forming on his wet skin from the belt she kept exclusively for punishments. The pain was nothing in comparison to when Momma had told him that she had made sure that he had kept his job.

They were going to cut his pay, a little every check, until he paid off the cost of the half cow he had puked all over. But he still had a job, he was still able to help the family out- wasn’t that good? Momma asked him, smiling at him like she hadn’t just beat him tired.

 Momma warned him that he couldn’t mess this up again. That there were no more chances after this- sending him up to his room with no dinner, his stomach already empty and rubbing against itself.

The morning after, when she had woken him up- his body sore from all the walking that he had done and the bruises forming on his back and legs- Momma had twisted open the jar of Vapor-rub for the first time, filling his room with the slightly sweet- minty smell.

She had bought it last night, right before the shop closed- with the bit of lose change she had managed to scrap together. It’s gonna help you from making another mistake she said right before she shoved a finger full of it into his nose. It was thick, and cold, burning the inside of his nose as he moaned in pain, trying to push Momma away before she shoved more into the other nostril. She had smacked his hand away, telling him that this was for his own good. That this was only until he got used to it.

He had moaned as tears began to form, shaking his head- trying to empty his nose, the burning crawling up into his head and making his eyes water painfully. Every inhale he took through his mouth burned its way to his lungs. Momma only slapped him again- telling him that this was his fault. That he had to do this for the family.

“You’re so selfish Thomas!” she shouted at him, holding his jaw and shoving another finger into his empty nostril. “There’s no room for useless boys in this house, do you understand?”

He couldn’t remember anything after that. His memories about that day lost to the pain he had put himself through. He remembers bits and pieces- the hunger. The burning. The anger.

He always seemed to remember the anger. Flashing through him- hot and cold, boiling his blood.

Something outside of his thoughts rattle and he’s once more standing in the bathroom, a man three times the size of the child that he had once been. Beside him, the woman had set the medicine bin on top of the toilet tank and was rummaging through it- the source of the noise that had brought him back.

He’s tense, the muscles in his neck thick and tight. He doesn’t like how he seemed to live more in his memories- constantly remembering all the things that he just wanted to forget. He didn’t want to remember, to be reminded of the pain he carried.

The woman glances at him, holding a small yellow squeeze tube and a roll of self-adhesive medical tape in one hand. Their eyes meet and she smiles at him, even though he can feel the way his face is twisted down into a scowl- his eyebrows heavy over his eyes.

He doesn’t mean to glare at her- to make her smile falter slightly as her eyes widen just a fraction. He could almost see himself in her eyes and he doesn’t like the him that he imagines. Large and imposing- a thing that only knows how to hurt, how to cause fear. He waits for the woman to realize her mistake- to realize that she was trapped in a small room with a monster.

“Give me your arm?” she asks him, holding out her right hand. “Let’s get you all wrapped up, okay?” her smile is still small, and he can see the wariness in her eyes, but when he places his arm in her hand she doesn’t flinch, she doesn’t rush him- wanting to get this over with.

She pulls him towards her instead, slender fingers wrapping around his forearm as much as possible. She tugs, and he moves- lightweight in her hold.

He’s aware of the muscles in his face- of how, even if he’s partially hidden behind his mask, his face sits. He makes himself relax- something that comes easy with the warmth of her hand on his body, easing the tension that he still carried from his memories. Her touch burned into him, filled him until he swore that he could feel her in his blood- pumping through his heart.

Her eyes don’t leave his as she pulls him closer, and motions with her head for him to sit down on the toilet. “It’ll be easier, that way you don’t have to keep your arm in the air.” She explains, shuffling out of the way to make space for him.

Underneath his weight, the toilet squeaks and shifts as he does as told, awkwardly sitting down. She’s taller than him like this, his head at the same level with her chest, making him have to tilt his head back just a bit to meet her eyes.

Her smile had grown in the time he had looked away- and he can’t help the heat that spreads across his face, his ears growing hot. Could she feel it? The warmth that she caused him? The uneasiness thrumming through him that had the tips of his fingers aching to touch her? To hold her like she held him?

“Can you hold this?” she asks, already dropping something into his expecting hand. It had been resting on his lap, calloused covered palm open and waiting- a beggar’s pose. The ointment and tape weren’t what he had been waiting for, but he takes them, closing his thick fingers around them.

What he didn’t expect was for her to lean over him with a mumbled “sorry”, her hand falling onto his shoulder as she reached for something behind him- inside of the medicine bin.

He doesn’t know what to do- his body freezing underneath hers as her neck grazes his mask covered face. It doesn’t last long- maybe a fraction of a second before she’s pulling away and dropping the hand from his shoulder, but it was enough.

Enough for him to inhale the light scent of her- woodsy and sweet and nutty- just the smallest hint of sweat underneath that. It reminded him of the baked goods Momma used to make for him on his birthday when he was small. It was comforting in the same way that it twisted his stomach with the pain of remembering something that used to make him so happy, something that had been taken from him so abruptly once Momma decided that he was too big to celebrate his birthday. Too old to be cared for.

The woman had been so close that he swore that he could almost hear the blood pounding through her veins. He had almost been tempted to turn his head and feel its pulse with his lips. To scratch her skin with his mask- the scent of her tainting it the same way it has already ruined his senses.

He could picture it- his teeth sinking into the warm and thin flesh she had so stupidly given him access to. It was almost scary- the way his mouth began to water at the thought of her blood on his tongue, raw flesh between his teeth. He wanted to fill his belly with it- to make her a part of him in a way that no one could take from him.

Would she taste as sweet as she smelled?

He swallowed down saliva, clearing the bad thoughts from his mind- scared that if he kept focusing on them, he would do something that he didn’t really want to do.  Something that he wouldn’t be able to take back, no matter how hard he begged and prayed and tried to undo.

He didn’t want to hurt her right now. No matter how hard his mind was telling him to do it- replaying all of the times that he could have done so. Showing him all of the ways that he still could.

He feels ashamed of his thoughts, of the temptation that he was barely keeping at bay- and finds himself unable to look at the woman as she rips open a piece of plastic, tossing it in the garbage can between the toilet and the sink. He keeps his eyes on the space between his legs, on her beat-up boots as she stands in front of him- sweet and unaware of what a horrible person he truly was. Of all that he was struggling to not do to her.

“Do you think Luda Mae is getting suspicious?”

The question startles him, reminding him of the world outside of the bathroom, outside of the woman in front of him.

“She’s probably thinking I ran away; don’t you think?” the woman’s laugh is small, feathery light. He doesn’t know how to answer- not knowing how long they had been up here. There was a possibility that Momma had grown suspicious, or maybe she thought that he had snapped and taken care of her in the only way that he knew how.

Vaguely, he shakes his head. Whether it’s to disagree with her or to tell her that he wasn’t sure- he let’s her decide on which one he’s trying to communicate. If Momma had been concerned, she would have come upstairs to check on her already, so he wasn’t too worried. He shrugs, and her laughter fills his ears again.

“Right. If you’re not worried, then I won’t be either. I just don’t want her to think that I’ve been a horrible guest- running off in the middle of helping her with dinner.”

He shakes his head again and this time its to reassure her that Momma wouldn’t think that. At least he hoped that she wouldn’t. The thought of Momma angry at the woman made his chest burn uncomfortably. An ache that slithered in the tight spaces between his ribs- hot and uneasy in its slickness.

“Well, what’s done is done, lets just get your arm bandaged. I might need your help facing her again.” The woman likes to talk with a smile, he’s noticed. It was as if her mouth had no other way to rest- the corners turned up towards the heavens, towards her eyes that liked to seek him out- unafraid of what she saw, of what others liked to look away from.

He wondered if she was joking- if she was just talking in order to fill the silence. He knew people who did that- people like Hoyt and his old boss at the Slaughterhouse, who had to keep their mouths moving or they would stop existing all together. He liked to think that if he had a voice, he would be like that too- not quite as annoying, but loud enough that people were forced to look at him, to listen to what he had to say.

He would tell the woman that he would keep her safe. That he wanted to go down with her and show Momma that she had done nothing wrong. That if anyone was to blame, it was him. It was his fault that she had stayed away for so long. He would hide her away from Momma’s anger- keep her tucked behind him- safe.

If he was being honest, he wasn’t sure that he wanted her to leave just yet. They could stay here a little longer- everything behind that door non-existent. He could make believe that Momma was still at work, busy with too many customers- outsiders who were just passing by, headed for more than the meat hooks in the basement of this house. That for a bit his uncle’s Monty and Hoyt didn’t exist. That the world was just for him and her.

That would be enough for him. He was almost tempted to ask God- to check and see if he was still paying attention to him after all that he had done.

The woman moves from in front of him and takes a seat on the edge of the tub, her knees rubbing against the outside of his thigh as she grabs his arm and places it on her lap. He can feel the buckle of her belt against his knuckles- his arm suddenly a solid weight as he feels the warmth that radiates from the space between her thighs.

 It crawls along his skin- up to his shoulder and through the space in his chest. It reminds him of the times that he’s stayed in one spot for too long, his limbs falling asleep. Though there was no uncomfortable pain this time- Instead it felt like a million little bugs were crawling around inside of him- a buzzing under his skin that he was unused to, but not disgusted by. It was something that maybe he could get used to.

It settles in his belly- thick and heavy and hot, stirring awake thoughts that felt too uncomfortable to focus on. Shamefully, he raises his eyes from the woman’s lap, trying to think of something other than the way her jeans clung to her thighs or how close his fingers were to the space between her legs- somehow hotter than the rest of her, the back of his hand burning pleasantly. He wanted to keep it there- to soak all of himself in her warmth until he knew nothing more.

He pushes the indecent thoughts from his mind, suddenly growing paranoid that the woman would find out what he was thinking about her. He didn’t want her to think that he was disgusting. Rotten just like Uncle Hoyt, who was obsessed with playing with their food.

“Is this uncomfortable for you, Tommy?” maybe it was because the silence had gone on for too long, but the woman whispers her question- her voice only for him, distracting him slightly as she reaches for the things she had given him, plucking them from his hand before he even had a chance to register the movement- her hand too fast that he barely feels the way her fingers skim his palm.

She’s already twisted open the bottle of ointment by the time he shakes his head- the cap balancing on the edge of her knee. With a hum she nods- her eyes focused on her own hands even though he wants her to look at him again. He wanted her to ask him more questions- her voice tender and sweet whenever she spoke to him. He wanted her to distract him for his thoughts that liked to pull him away from her- and right now he wanted to stay right here, to not miss a single moment.

The ointment is cold against his skin- the woman squeezing a light amount right above the wound. He can feel it cleansing away all of his wickedness- her finger swiping at it until it’s in the deepest layer of his flesh, leaving nothing behind but an oily residue that coated her thumb. Without a pause she sticks a piece of gauze on top- taping it up until the gauze is well hidden under flesh colored medical tape.

He had found it in the pocket of one of the first of Uncle Hoyt’s guests- setting it aside for Momma along all of the jewelry he had collected. Maybe it was for a reason that he had second guessed his decision to throw it away. Maybe that had been a sign from above that you were on your way- that God hadn’t abandoned them after all.

The woman is gentle as she pats the covered wound and leans back a bit to meet his expectant eyes. What does she see in them- in him- that makes her look at him so sweetly?

“You’re all set. How’s it feeling? It’s not too tight, is it?”

[valardohaeriss]

First Time -c.s

Hello! This is Part 2 to Abstract/Psychopomp

Pt 1 here

Request here

Master list in works

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Reader (house Dayne AU)

Warnings: mentions of loss, Reader also has hair, but no description of texture, color, pattern.

——-

Weeks had gone by in Winterfell, and you felt the young lord warming up to you. By observance, you learned that when he’s stressed, he fights with his fingers. When he’s focused, he covers his mouth, when he tense, his jaw clenches. However, you also learned our diplomatic he was, how caring he was for his son, how even though you were a total stranger to him, he’d do anything to protect you.

Just a week ago, you got him to crack a smile and chuckle for the first time. His face reacts faster than his words. You could see the warmth in him start to grow, and it was refreshing. You had grown close to him. Until today.

Today he was reserved, today it felt almost avoidant. Coming back from skipping rocks with Rickon, you see Cregan in the distance. Stood tall like an expectant man. A Lord in his truest form. “Father, Y/n taught me how to skip rocks today!” Rickon beamed with excitement. “Lady y/n” Cregan corrected him.

You grabbed Cregan’s arm to comfort him and let him know that you could be addressed by your name alone. Cregan tensed under your touch, this feeling made you pull away quicker than you wanted.

“Supper, will be ready soon. Best to get you ready.” Cregan told his son as he went away with a staff member. You stood there examining Cregan wondering why he was so guarded today. “Is everything okay, My Lord?” You ask him, almost prompting him to look in your eyes.

“It’s been a stressful day, but I’m glad you and Rickon were able to get away and have fun.” He cracked a small smile at you, but not enough to convince you it was genuine. Practiced almost. Your eyebrows furrowed at his look. “I would like to see more of Winterfell if you wouldn’t mind showing me?” You asked.

Maybe and outing would do him good. All he does is sit in meetings, prepare for war, death, destruction. He lacked the most vital emotion. Happiness. You knew exactly what he needed. But not now, you needed to get him in his most vulnerable relaxed state. “I would love to show you my home.” He nodded. Still being a gentleman, he escorted you inside to warmer temperatures.

—-

Cregan’s pov

He was growing too close to you too fast. It was a recipe for disaster. What if he had all of these feelings and then lost you? He couldn’t risk it. This was a sure fire way to experience everything he already has all over again. But you were so beautiful and kind. Your heart was 10 times as big and you were welcoming to everyone you met.

You made him laugh, smile, and he caught himself thinking of you at night. He lost sleep over it. He wanted to hold you close, make you laugh, smile, he wanted to kiss you, he wanted to touch you, he wanted many other things that made him lose sleep as well. But if he got too close he knew he would lose you. Everyone he’s ever cared for, save his son, is gone. He couldn’t afford to lose you too.

After supper he was there in his chambers, staring at the fire thinking of you. He knew your favorite pastime, he thought of all of the things he could gift you for your wedding day. A tradition to gift one another amongst bringing in a union. It was rumored that since your family was one of the most ancient houses, you were imbued with magic. You were magical in his eyes.

He could see the love Rickon started to grow for you as well. Seeing as he lost his mother in childbirth, you were the closest thing to a mother he would have. Cregan loved seeing you interact with him.

He sighed running his hands through his hair then over his face. He wrestled with his emotions too much. His thoughts were interrupted by three taps on his door. He grabbed the dagger under his mattress and tread lightly to his door, carefully opening it.

He was relieved and surprised to find you standing there at this hour. “I want you to show me your favorite place in Winterfell.” You whispered with shivers in your voice. Blanket wrapped around you. His shoulders fell at the sight of you. You were relaxed, hair free, no jewelry. Just you.

He puts the dagger down and smiles. “Well, you’re going to have to wear more than that.” He chuckles. “I’ll come get you in a second.” He smiles.

——

Your POV

Finally. A smile. A genuine smile. You were so excited for whatever he had planned. You dressed comfortable, you dressed warm. You dressed northern. In his colors.

You waited patiently until you heard his feet at the door. Before he could knock you answered in excitement. Cregan examined you. Nervous you picked at your fingers. A habit you picked up from him. He reached up and unclipped your hair, letting it be free. You could tell this was how he liked it. Something in you shuddered as he caressed your face, moving your hair. You had never craved touch so bad. But it was his, and it made you feel special.

“There, are you ready?” He asked. You nodded and took his arm. He looked around the castle, sneaking you around like children. It provoked a giggle out of you. You felt him grab you tighter as you went outside to his horse. He lifted you up first and hopped on behind you, holding you close to him to make sure of your safety.

You looked behind you and smiled at him. Your faces so close it was unholy. You could kiss him right now, he was your betrothed after all. But you didn’t want to scare him off. He cleared his throat and you snapped forward, letting him lead the horse to your destination.

You pulled up to the weirwood tree on the other side of the keep. He stopped your horse and brought you to sit near the tree. “I apologize for the chill, but this is my favorite place to be.” He starts. He then starts to ramble on about the tree and his memories coming here as a child. Learning about it, praying by its wishing near it.

Your smile grew big at his passion in his stories. You saw him let himself go, be himself, not Lord Stark. Cregan. “Lord Stark, you-“

“Cregan. Please call me Cregan.” He asked you and grabbed your hand to hold. “Cregan.” You echoed. He loved the sound of his name on your lips. It was so ethereal to heart it. “Y/n. Please call me y/n.” You said grabbing his other hand.

You saw his head dip to look at the ground. “I’m sorry for my behavior since you have arrived. I understand I haven’t been fair to you.” He ran his thumb over your knuckles. On his impulse he left a long kiss to your hands, warming them. “Cregan, it’s okay. It’s-“

He interrupted you again. “It’s not. I cannot let fear dictate my feelings for you. I cannot let fear hold me back from happiness. I deserve it. You deserve it.” He says looking deep into your eyes. “If we are to be wed, then I vow myself to be a good husband to you. To cherish you. To treat you as you deserve. To provide you with love and anything else you may ask” he said it there. In front of the sacred tree.

On impulse, you grab his face gently and press a soft kiss to his lips. He kissed you back with such care. As if you were fragile. You both pull away and just take a second to look at each other. It was then you noticed he had the richest color of eyes. So deep and beautiful. “Let’s go back and get you warm, beautiful.” He says and he presses his forehead to yours.

And to that day, he kept his vow.

----

Taglist: @still-jon-snow

[2000sangel]

Hey so I just saw you had request opened for Adam so could you please do headcannons with Adam x reader where the reader is like very nervous at first and is quiet but after a bit when they open up is supper out going and talks a lot? Have an amazing day/night!

Hello there! Happy to write some Adam headcanons for you, dear reader! Hope you like these and have a wonderful day/night yourself :3 I assumed these were meant to be romantic but they can be read either way.

Adam x Quiet -> Outgoing! Reader HCs

Adam isn’t really sure what to think of you at first.

He never knows what to make of quiet people; is there a storm brewing in their little brain, or are they uninteresting and as such undeserving of his attention? Lute is the first for example, and he quite likes her, so he decides to give you a chance.

What really amuses him is your nervousness around him at first; he’ll tease you by asking things such as “What, cat got your tongue?” and make fun of you when you stumble on your own words, his booming laugh catching the attention on anyone nearby.

Lord knows why you stick around, but you do, and day after day you two somehow grow closer; you get used to his tacky jokes about your personality and little by little you learn to either ignore him and move on or retort with the first thing that comes to mind, shushing him. He’ll either blow you a very immature raspberry or flip the bird at you whenever this happens.

Once you open up a bit and become way more talkative though, unfortunately for you, he finds a whole new reason to be rude to you;

“Got your tongue back I see. Great, now I’ve got a pest by my side.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, you’re going to give me a headache!”

“Do you ever shut up?”

As you can probably tell having any kind of relationship with Adam is not the easiest thing in the world – or well, in Heaven, in this case.

It’s not rare for you to get a bit offended by what he says, but you’ve figured out a way to worm your way into his heart and get him to listen to you: acts of service.

Adam is a bit lazy when it comes to doing things that aren’t fun for him, so the best way to get him to calm down a bit is to take the weight off his shoulders and do whatever needs to be done in his stead.

Of course, we’re talking about everyday acts, such as doing the groceries or cleaning. He’s going to be overjoyed if you get him something he likes while you’re out too; every time you come back home from grocery shopping with ribs to cook, he’s oh-so going to listen to your rants about how long the line at the cash register was or whatever you have to talk about this time.

He’s also a big napper, and it’s surprising even to him how much it helps him fall asleep when you talk about literally anything as he’s trying to take a nap. These are the times where he’ll actually reply to what you’re saying too!

“...and that’s when my friend left. I couldn’t believe it, like... if she really cared she would’ve stayed, right?”

“What...is she a fucking bitch? Of course she would’ve stayed if she gave a damn.”

He answers with his eyes closed each time, but his eyebrows are still furrowed in frustration whenever you tell him about someone or something that pissed you off.

Lute probably questions you guys’ relationship, not going to lie. She can deal with Adam, but you? She has absolutely no idea how you put up with him, but as long as she gets some free time for herself she’s not going to complain.

[saerins]

─── 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑

+ itoshi rin x f!reader | wc 1.6k | content: fluff, friends to lovers, college au, slightly suggestive at the end, mutual pining ?

note: hmmm okay rin may be doing things to me @_@ i rarely write for him so forgive me if this is ass but !!! ily rin <3

summary: you and rin are both oblivious to each other’s feelings. but maybe one push is all you need.

it doesn’t make sense why he’s so nervous. you’re still you and he’s still him and nothing’s changed except for the acquisition of some personal information. coming from blunt bangs too, nonetheless.

two weeks ago.

“hey, y/n-chan, you’re single right?” bachira asked, casually as he could while the both of you were on the same train back home.

you were startled, but still shook your head all the same. bachira and rin were teammates, so naturally you two knew of each other, but you couldn’t remember the last time you ever spoke to him. you only remembered that rin liked calling him blunt bangs. and then he started getting a little sulky after you called bachira’s hair cute.

“just wondering, have you ever thought of getting together with rin-chan?”

bachira had been swaying along with the train, his hands gripped firmly on the hanging handles. that wasn’t what you were fixated on though, because his question threw you off, the heat shooting to your cheeks the moment you processed it.

“w-what do you mean?”

you had been flustered, but bachira remained oblivious as ever. (lucky for you.) he tilted his face upwards, staring at the train ceiling, carefully picking his words.

“well, you and rin-chan spend a lot of time together, just wondering if you both ever tried anything.”

it came off sounding a lot more suggestive than anything, but knowing bachira, you doubted he meant anything other than the simple fact of considering getting together.

and it wasn’t like you didn’t. because of course you did. you couldn’t spend so much time with someone like rin and not feel anything.

you’d known rin since freshman year, since you both kept to yourselves at this one party, bumping into each other at the corner of the room, awkwardly shuffling your feet and trying to ignore the other as much as you could.

you caved first; your want for a friend in that party overtook your shyness, and luckily for you, rin entertained you that night. he took you up on your offer to get out of there, away from the loud bass and drunk teenagers and onto a more quiet destination—the supper spot near your dorms.

since then, you’d found a lot of common ground and somehow, you just seeped into rin’s life. just like that. you couldn’t say anything for him, but you’d thought he was attractive since the first moment you laid eyes on him. plus, rin was such a hot topic on campus, you’d just sort of eliminated the possibilities of being together with him entirely.

he was out of your league, wasn’t he?

you were happy enough just to be his friend. until bachira asked that question. until you realised that hey, maybe you should explore it. maybe you should tell someone about it. anyone.

so you nodded your head, embarrassed as you may have been.

“don’t tell him, okay?” you warned bachira.

bachira grinned ear to ear. “it’s safe with me!”

evidently, it wasn’t, rin thinks now—looking at bachira and isagi egging him on. after bachira acquired said information, he had ran straight to rin’s dorm and spilled the beans.

rin pulls up a mental reminder: do not ever share secrets with bachira under any circumstances. ever.

which is also why, after multiple instances of persuasion and letting slip that maybe he’s into you too, rin is keeping bachira under close scrutiny. he’s not even sure whether you’ll show up tonight, at the soccer team’s victory party. from past experiences, you do.

“you should tell her how you feel,” bachira says again, eliciting a sigh out of rin.

“mind your own business, blunt bangs,” rin murmurs, drinking his diet coke.

isagi nudges him lightly. “she’s pretty in-demand right? i heard that some other guys from our team has their eyes on her too.”

it manages to perk rin’s ears, and it’s too late for him to realise it’s all a ploy, because isagi’s snickering the moment rin opens his mouth, earning a slap on the back of his head.

“fuck off with that already.”

“yeah yeah, you gotta strike while the iron’s hot,” bachira chimes in, only further agitating rin. “actions maketh the man or whatever.”

“don’t just throw around every phrase you learned,” he retorts. rin’s fists are clenched at his side, remembering why he used to go to these alone. gotta be better than having to listen to these two idiots.

then, a familiar giggle sounds from behind him, and rin freezes up almost immediately (to the amusement of his two friends). “what am i missing out on here?”

bachira opens up his mouth but isagi claps his hand over him almost instantaneously. for once, rin’s thankful that at least one of them has more tact than the other. you can only watch on with confusion as isagi drags bachira away, citing some lame excuse about how they had to check on the other guests.

they’re not even the hosts.

“your friends are acting weird, rin,” you comment, and rin wholeheartedly agrees. for some reason, he can’t help but notice you more after what bachira revealed to him.

“they’re always weird.”

his eyes survey your body, appreciating how the dress flows so beautifully, how your hair’s done up just perfectly. you’re so pretty too, why didn’t he ever tell you that? probably because he didn’t want you thinking he was some sort of freak. you probably have suitors for days—way out of his league.

“anyway, congratulations on winning the tournament, mvp,” you say teasingly, winking, your heart skipping beats when you catch the slight crimson falling on his cheeks as he looks away.

for some reason, being able to see rin like this, where everyone else only gets to see the more stoic side of him makes you feel special. it may be a case of delusion, but you don’t mind.

you expect some sort of quip, something like how their win was expected and not something worth congratulating. but instead, through his red ears and awkward eye contact, he tells you a curt thanks before he goes back to excessively sipping his diet coke.

“did something happen?” you ask, nearly making rin choke on air, he realises, because he’s gulped down his entire drink.

“no,” he answers, a little too harshly, before he reigns himself in. rin doesn’t really want to be the one to broach the subject, but he really doesn’t want to risk going home tonight without knowing for sure how you feel.

screw bachira’s intel—rin wants to hear it from your own lips, wants to be there to see and hear you confess.

“bachira told me about it.” rin feels you stiffen up beside him this time. but you don’t say a word. that’s fine though. he started it, he may as well see this through. “do you- still feel that way?”

thankfully, you don’t like to torture him, automatically knowing what he’s referring to, probably already calculated in your head the probability that bachira would’ve ratted you out. then, does that mean you wanted to be found out?

“i- i mean i- um, yeah, yeah i do.” you’re fiddling with your fingers, looking to the side, afraid to meet his eye. you and rin are close as ever, but that makes this all the more awkward. you’ve never really been the type of people to talk about feelings. at least, not until now.

you’re not sure what rin will say or do, and you can hear your heart drumming loud against your chest, beating against your ear.

“i feel the same,” rin blurts out, somehow afraid that if he didn’t, you’d assume otherwise.

his words weigh heavy on your chest before lifting the weight off of it all at the same time. you’re relieved, more than, that he feels the same, that you’re hearing it from his own mouth. but now the both of you are just standing there staring at each other, wondering how on earth you should continue this.

and you do rin a favor, paying him back for starting the conversation at all, by standing on your tiptoes and pulling his collar in, pressing a kiss against his lips, tasting the diet coke lingering on his tongue. by the way his arms wrap around you, by now his kiss gets even deeper by the second, you can tell that you aren’t the only one that’s been dreaming of this.

“ah, rin finally got some balls and confessed huh?”

bachira’s all too familiar voice breaks the moment, although the sound of your laugh helps to ease rin’s disappointment. he’ll get more moments of this, more of you—soon. he doesn’t even have the mood to snap at bachira, only occupied with thoughts of what he wants to do with you.

“see, what’d i tell you, y/n-chan? he likes you too, doesn’t he?”

rin’s face turns a bright red at the realisation. “he told you?” he asks.

you nod, grinning sheepishly. “i read his text just before i got here.” you pull out your phone, showing him the evidence.

[20:48] bachira: y/n!! big news!!!

[20:48] bachira: rin said he likes you too, get over here alr!!!

rin blinks, the timing lining up with exactly when rin expressed that he has been interested in you all this time.

“i’m gonna fucking kill you,” rin deadpans at bachira, isagi already disappearing elsewhere, not wanting to be part of this.

bachira thinks he’s lucky when you tilt rin’s face towards you, kissing him again, distracting him from his ire. he takes this chance to slip away, leaving you two lovebirds alone.

“would you rather deal with him or come home with me, mr itoshi?”

it takes everything in rin not to just sweep you up and take you right here in this room. he mirrors your smirk, a casual hunger burning beneath his teal eyes.

“you, always you.”

[amethystwrytes]

Safe. (Part Five)

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin X Fem. Reader X Lee Minho

Summary: A broke ER Nurse offers up her services to a large crime organization in exchange for much higher pay and benefits that are unconventional, but lucrative. The life proves to be questionable at best, and downright isolating at worst which leaves her feeling unsure, unstable and dangerous. 

Warnings: Explicit language. Explicit depictions of sex (some chapters will be more explicit than others sexually). Violence. Blood. Trauma injuries. (Organized) Crime. Emotional manipulation. Discussion of murder and physical assault. Medical inaccuracy galore. Smoking. Past addiction. 18+ Only MDNI.

Chapter WC: 5K

AN: (1) Two chapters in one week feels excessive - but it's finished, and it’s Minho's BIRTHDAY after all, and also I think I’d like to start posting on Fridays anyway. (2) I don’t want to talk about the unspeakably preposterous and unbelievable practicality/mechanics of one of these smut scenes. You will know it when you see it and you will shush. *Suspension of disbelief rabble rabble*. Thank you, that is all.

~ PART FIVE ~ [Series M. List Here]

You’re setting the table for supper when you hear the key to the front door twist in the lock. Your stomach hardens and you eye Christopher sitting in the living room. You wonder when someone will be able to open your front door without you thinking that they’re going to come barreling through to hurt you, but it’s only Minho. 

“You can go,” Minho casually instructs Chris, who instantly stands and gives you a nod.

“Here,” you call Christopher over, and hand him a to-go box. You made way too much and even though you’re still sore at him for spilling your secrets, you want the man to eat. He takes it with a smile and a thank you, then heads out. 

Minho waits for him to shut it completely before joining you in the kitchen. 

“God that smells amazing, what did you make?” he wraps his hands around you from behind, his head dipping into the small of your neck and shoulder. 

“Spicy chicken, fried rice, and a cucumber salad because I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of you eat a fucking vegetable,” you smile. 

He chuckles, “You take such good care of us,” he smiles against your face before kissing your cheek. 

You briefly eye the front door, “Where’s Hyunjin?” 

Minhos cheerful expression fades for a split second, but he plucks a cucumber slice out of the bowl and corrects himself, “He went home to clean up a bit. He’s coming.” 

“You didn’t clean up?” you raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Love, I’ve been doing this a long time, trust me when I say I’m clean as a whistle,” he explains. 

You shrug, “Okay, but it’s not polite to eat before everyone arrives, so put that salad in the refrigerator to keep it cool please,” you instruct as you slide the chicken and rice into the oven to keep warm. 

Minho does as he’s told, surprisingly, then looks at you, “I’m sorry.” 

Your brows furrow, “Sorry?” 

He nods, “I’m sorry for what I said to you in your room that day, I’m sorry for threatening to frame you for selling drugs out of the house, I’m sorry for ever giving you a reason to think I would hurt you.” 

You’d been thinking all afternoon of how you want to talk, of what you want to say to both of them this evening, but this you were not expecting. 

You let out a steady breath and nod, “I guess what I wonder then, is why? Why would you say those things? If you truly never intended to hurt me, then why would you say such awful things?” 

He presses his lips into a line and traces the streaks in the marble countertop. 

“Well?” you urge. 

“I’ve acted the way I’ve acted because I wanted you to hate me. You can’t lose people you love if you love no one and no one loves you. My feelings would be easier to resolve and manage if you hated me,” he smiles sadly, “but when you said you weren’t comfortable being seen with me, I realized having you hate me was exceptionally painful, so I did what I do when I get hurt or angry and acted like a fucking asshole. When you looked at me that day, scared and sad…I realized that I’d fucked up.”

“You are so…” you sigh, “Unstable. You know that, right?” 

“Yes,” he chuckles, “I’m aware.” 

You think of his wife and your heart aches for him again, “Were you ever going to tell me about her?” you wonder. 

His eyes widen a bit, he doesn’t need any clarification to know who you’re asking about. 

“Seola? I don’t know,” he answers honestly, “Probably…eventually. I don’t talk about her often, I don’t…I don’t like to. How did you find out about her?” 

“Jisoo did my hair and makeup for the Casino night,” you tell him, you can’t quite measure if he’s upset about you knowing or not, and you don’t want to throw Christopher under the bus, despite his loose lips. Jisoo feels like a safer option. 

He sighs, “Seola…I loved her with my whole heart. I told her early on that she should stay as far away from me as possible, but she wouldn’t,” he smiles. “When she was taken from me, I never thought I’d ever be able to have feelings for anyone else, I didn’t want to. Then you and I met, and at first I thought I could treat you like the other people I’ve slept with over the past few years, use you the way you were using me - for human contact, to feel good, but…” he trails off, unsure of how to explain it. 

“...but it feels like more,” you finish for him. 

“Yes,” he nods, stepping closer to you, taking your face gently between his hands, “it does.” 

He leans down slowly, gently, and kisses your lips. 

“Please don’t leave us,” he whispers, “don’t leave me.” 

“Then don’t ever make me feel like I need to be afraid of you,” you whisper back. 

“I won’t,” he answers. 

“Don’t let them hurt me again,” you add. 

“No one will ever lay a hand on you again baby, not as long as I’m breathing,” he promises.

You press your lips against his, pull his shirt with your fingertips, drawing him into you. His tongue traces the lines of your bottom lip and you greet it with your own. You melt as his hands roam your body, under your shirt to squeeze and caress the warm skin. You moan into his mouth and he pushes you against the countertops. 

You feel him falter and he pulls away, the two of you staring at each other; you wondering why he stopped, and him looking hindered by something unseen. 

“Do you have feelings for Hyunjin?” he asks. You were expecting this question from one or both of them at some point this evening, but it still hits you abrasively. You’re not willing to lie though. If you’re doing this, all of it, then there is no room for a growing pile of lies between you. 

“Yes.” 

“Do you have feelings for me?” 

“Yes, I do,” you nod, lifting your fingers to his hair to play with the dark strands. 

“That’s going to get extremely messy,” he warns. 

“Then it will fit right in, because all of this is a mess,” you say, looking hard at the floor. He lifts your chin up so your gaze finds his. 

“Is that really what you want? Both of us? I need to know.” 

You think for a moment, think about how you should answer, think about what his response is going to be. 

“I want you both.” 

“Is it because I’m not enough? Or because he’s not enough?” he asks, and you hear the defense in his voice, the blow to his pride and it pains you. 

You shake your head, lace your fingers with his, “It’s not that. Not at all.  You are both more than enough. It’s because you both make me feel things that I crave, because you are two polar opposite men, who make me feel so strongly, and so good when I’m with you but in such very different ways, and maybe I’m just being selfish, I know I am actually, but I don’t want to give up the way I feel when I’m with either of you.” 

Minho is about to respond when the knock on the door drags both your attentions away from the conversation. 

“It’s me, Hyunjin,” a muffled voice calls out from behind the door. 

You squeeze Minhos arm and he lays his hand over yours, giving you a halfhearted smile, but a smile, and that’s better than nothing. 

You cross the space and open the front door to Hyunjins sweet smile, the top half of his jet black hair tied up into a wet bun, the scent of his shampoo still fragrant. 

“Hi,” you smile. 

“Hi beautiful.” 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

Dinner starts out dreadfully silent. So silent in fact that you can barely touch your food. Minho and Hyunjin dig in though, stuffing chicken, rice and cucumbers in at an alarming pace that makes you smile. They’re used to silence, to awkwardness. They’ve learned to navigate it, thrive in it, and carry on regardless of the tension. 

“Well, I’d ask you both how your day was but I suppose I know,” you finally attempt a joke, but it doesn’t come out like you intended it to and no one laughs, including you. You grab the cold beer you served with the chicken and take a very long swig. 

Minho wipes his mouth with a napkin and gives you a soft, understanding look, “You wanted us here Love, it’s your meeting so to speak,” he says. 

Hyunjin looks between the two of you as he chews his food, he seems to understand he’s missed part of the conversation, the conversation you started with Minho but this is all ass backwards and not how you wanted to start your ‘meeting.’ 

“Alright, yes,” you clear your throat, “I do have things I want to discuss with both of you.” 

Both men take a break from eating and sit a little straighter, giving you their full attention. You realize now that your hope at a more casual conversation over food was a fruitless endeavor, these men are too serious for casual. 

“I realized something today,” you begin, “I’ve realized that despite what I’ve told myself the past several months, that I am part of this organization. I’ve helped all of you at one point or another, and maybe I’ve just helped in the least criminal of ways, but I have committed crimes with you whether I like it or not. I’ve heard things, I know names, I know what you’ve done, and the things you intend to do, I am an accomplice,” you say it out loud and although it makes it real, there is a part of you that’s relieved to say it to just get it out there. 

Neither Hyunjin or Minho say anything so you continue, “I was going to run, but I think that running away would just mean that I’m running straight into more trouble for myself, for one. But also…” you trail off, “but also, I don’t want to run away from either of you.” 

Hyunjin looks at Minho so quickly that you think it could give him whiplash, but Minho doesn’t react to any of it. 

“But before we talk about that, or what that means, or how to even navigate it, I have terms I’d like to lay out,” you look at both of them. 

“What are your terms Love?” Minho asks, all business, and you wonder if he’s about to produce a pen and notebook to take notes in. 

“First, I don’t like the way some of your guys speak to me as if I’m your personal fuck toy,” you say. 

“Seungmin.” 

Hyunjin and Minho say his name simultaneously. 

“Okay yes, Seungmin, but I don’t want him punished or whatever. I would just like it made clear that while we don’t have to like each other, we don’t need to speak so disrespectfully to one another, and not to sound like a child but he always starts it,” you take another swig of beer. Minho looks as though he’s holding in a chuckle and this puts you at ease a bit. 

“It will be made clear to him and to all my employees that you are to be treated and spoken to with absolutely nothing but respect,” Minho nods with a smile, “What else?” 

“I don’t want to know everything, I don’t need to know everything, but I also don’t want to be treated like Christopher - as just an employee who does as she’s told and is only told the bare minimum. I want to be trusted, and I want you to talk to me freely about things that you need to get off your mind, or things that impact me in any way,” you say. 

“Trust is earned,” Minho says, “but after everything you’ve been through, I believe you’ve more than earned it, so done.” 

“Finally,” you take a breath, “it’s been hard for me since the night I got attacked to be alone here, or anywhere for that matter, and I know you both have things that need done, that you can’t be here all the time, and I appreciate Christopher, and Jisung, and the others…but I want you two - not necessarily at the same time - but I want the two of you.” 

The room sinks back into that familiar silence again and you wait impatiently for someone to say something, you fork some chicken and stuff it in your mouth for something to do. 

“Fine, I’ll be the one to say it,” Hyunjin half laughs, “Are we talking about fucking each other or protection detail?” 

It’s Minhos turn to take an uncomfortably large swig of beer and you have to force the small bite of chicken down your throat roughly. 

“I…well…” you stutter, “In this specific moment I’m talking about who is here in the house with me,” you clarify. 

“And what about outside this specific moment?” Minho asks for more clarification and you realize that the time has come, whether you were ready for it or not, to tell them both what you actually want. Is it what you want? You’ve never attempted a relationship that had more than two people in it, but none of those relationships turned out very well so you can’t really cite them as reliable sources, can you? 

“Honestly?” you inhale deeply and let it go, “Honestly, I wouldn’t be opposed to having you both in the other way at the same time, I’ve never done that before, it would be my first time - but the thought of it makes me wet just imagining it.” 

Hyunjin bites his bottom lip and sits back in his seat. To say you’re suddenly feeling warm is an understatement, so you chug the rest of your beer then get up for another. 

“What do you think about that?” Minho asks Hyunjin. 

Hyunjin licks his lips and you think you might combust, “Well, it wouldn’t be my first time,” he says with a smile that might be a little too proud, “it could be lots of fun,” he says avoiding eye contact with Minho and only looking at you. You swallow hard. 

“How many times have the two of you…” Minho starts, but you answer before he can finish.

“Hyunjin and I have never had sex,” you tell him, trying to keep any emotion from your voice like how it’s a bit disappointing that you’ve not slept with Hyunjin, or how you’re scared that Minho will be upset if you’d said you had, or how excited you are that you might actually get fucked by both of the men sitting with you at this table. 

“Hmm,” Minho nods, “I see.” 

“What do you think about it, boss?” Hyunjin finally looks at him, “We both said we didn’t want to share after all.” 

Only Hwang Hyunjin could look at Lee Minho and say that without it sounding like a challenge, like a threat. 

Minho exhales slowly and shrugs, “It may be a shock to some, but I’m not a closed minded man, however, I am a possessive one,” he looks at you and chews on the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowing with consideration, “so the answer to your question is that I’m not sure.” 

Your heart sinks a little, and you’re unsure of what to say. 

“We can work with possessive,” Hyunjin says, the corners of his mouth slipping into a coy smile, as if he’s flirting with Minho and your clit throbs, you can feel the way you’re soaked and you press your thighs together.

“Oh?” is all Minho responds with. 

“Mm,” Hyunjin nods, “I’m not a power player, I don’t have to be a top, I don’t have to be a bottom, I’m not picky, and you should know by now I’m very good at being told what to do.” 

You watch as Minhos expression changes, he looks at Hyunjin in a way you’ve never seen him look at any of his guys before, and then he looks at you, “You’re being awfully quiet now darling.” 

It takes you a solid three seconds to realize he’s talking to you, you’re gripping the neck of your beer so hard it might bust. 

“I’m just, thoroughly enjoying this conversation,” you grin. 

“How much?” he asks. 

Well. That was an invitation if you’ve ever heard one. You swallow your sip of beer and stand, shuffling out the wrinkles of your cotton skirt and step closer to him, “Would you like to see?” you ask, bunching up the skirt in your fists higher and higher until the tops of your thighs are exposed. 

Minho chews his lip as his fingertips trace delicate lines up your legs, finally disappearing beneath the fabric, pushing your panties to the side so he can swirl them in your arousal. You gasp, tilting your head back as he moves his fingers against you. 

“My, my,” he whispers, voice gravelly with want, and he looks as if he wants to knock everything off the table to fuck you on it. You wouldn’t be opposed. 

Hyunjin sits motionless on the other side, watching, and though you’ve never really considered how it would make you feel, you find that having him watch feels very good. 

Minho removes his fingers from your cunt and uses them to motion Hyunjin over. Your heart starts pounding. Hyunjin moves slowly, but you can see his erection straining against his pants. 

“So Hyunjin has never played with you?” Minho asks, his eyes on Hyunjin. 

“We’ve kissed…” you manage to speak between catching your breath. 

“But he’s never tasted you? Your pussy that is?” 

You shake your head back and forth. 

“Go on then,” Minho looks at him darkly, touching Hyunjins mouth with his fingertips, spreading your slick across his bottom lip. Hyunjin sucks Minhos fingers into his mouth hungrily, a groan escaping from somewhere deep in his chest. 

“I have to admit, knowing he’s not had you is pretty satisfying to me,” Minho chuckles, yanking his fingers from Hyunjins mouth, “I wonder how far I can push him before he comes undone?” he stands from the table, “Has everyone eaten? No ones starving anymore?” he asks the two of you and finishes off his beer. 

“Not for food,” Hyunjin comments and winks at you. 

“Then let’s go to the living room, shall we?” Minho grabs your hand and pulls you forward, Hyunjin following close behind. 

Minho kisses you deeply, then takes a seat in the armchair, “Why don’t you help our girl out of her pretty clothes?” 

“Gladly,” Hyunjin whispers, taking the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head, he tosses it across the room then drops to his knees as you unzip the side of your skirt. He helps you shimmy it down into a pool of fabric around your feet and you step away from it. Hyunjin looks up at you, his eyes scanning your body, and he hooks his fingers into your underwear, pulling them slowly down your legs. 

“Don’t even think about putting your lips on her, not yet, I say when,” Minho instructs from the chair. Hyunjin freezes as if that’s exactly what he was about to do. 

“Yes sir,” Hyunjin grins. 

You want to interject and say that if Minho doesn’t give the go ahead soon, you might be the one coming undone, but you stay silent, you’re not sure what to do anyway, and something in your gut tells you it needs to happen like this, for them, in order for Minho to be right with it. 

“Sit on the sofa, Love,” Minho tells you and you sit, like a good girl, on the sofa then look at him for further instruction. He laughs, “You look so eager darling, so fucking turned on, do you want me to be nice for you?” 

“Yes,” you nod frantically, “Please.” 

“Do you want him to taste your cunt finally?” 

“Mmhmm,” you keep nodding, leaning back into the cushions, kneading your breasts. 

“Spread your legs for him, so he can see how fucking gorgeous you are,” he instructs. 

You nearly go out of your mind watching Hyunjin crawl between your legs, his fingernails raking red lines up your thighs. Hyunjin looks behind at Minho for permission. 

“First,” Minho halts him, “take your shirt and pants off, you look dreadfully uncomfortable.” 

Hyunjin smiles and tears his shirt over his head, then stands briefly to remove his trousers before resuming his position between your legs. 

“Now, make our princess cum,” Minho grins. 

Hyunjin does what he’s told, but he also takes his sweet time, licking and sucking kisses on the inside of your thighs and you wonder if he’s savoring the moment like you. This heated, passionate affair that seems to have been building up since the night you sewed stitches into his side. 

Finally, he grabs hold of your thighs roughly and drags you to the edge of the sofa, “you ready Doll?” 

“God, yes…” 

His tongue is eager against your flesh, but in true Hyunjin fashion, is also quick, soft, controlled and deliberate. He was told to make you cum, and he’s honing in on that target like his life depends on it. 

“How does it feel, baby?” Minho asks and you manage to turn your head towards him, “let’s hear you.” 

“It feels so fucking good, he’s so good at it,” you whimper, looking back down at Hyunjin. His eyes lock with yours and you watch as his tongue appears and disappears between your folds. You rest your head back onto the sofa and moan, your hips beginning to move in time with his mouth, you’re so close. 

“She’s about to cum, I can tell by her face,” Minho smiles, and you nod, unable to verbally confirm this, “let go baby, cum for him.” 

Minhos deep, gravelly command paired with Hyunjins soft tongue lapping at you pushes you far beyond your capacity to hold yourself back. Your body quakes as your orgasm ripples over and over, your clit becoming so sensitive you have to physically push Hyunjins face away with your hands and plea with a quiet “stop.” 

Hyunjin is totally out of breath as he sits back on his ankles, he wipes his mouth with his arm, eyes dark, and looks at Minho. 

“How close are you to busting?” Minho chuckles. 

“Very.” 

Minho licks his lips, then unzips his pants, releasing his own cock from the confines of his clothes. He strokes himself gently then nods his head towards you, “Go on then, she loves getting fucked right after you eat her out, don’t you baby?” 

“Yes,” you groan, “Very much.” 

Hyunjin doesn’t hesitate a moment before ripping his boxers down and kicking them away, he takes your shoulders and shoves you down onto the sofa, propping one of your legs on the back and sliding between. 

“I don’t know how long I’ll last,” Hyunjin warns. 

“It’s okay,” you breathe, “you don’t have to make me cum again.” 

“Yes he does,” Minho says coolly from the chair, “yes he fucking does.” 

“Heard,” Hyunjin manages to tease. 

Hyunjin lines himself up with you as you dig your nails into his shoulders, desperate for it, needing it. He pushes in slowly, and your eyes lock as he fills you to the hilt. Your lips part and you wiggle a bit, urging him to move, he does. He’s going impossibly slow, his brows knitted together in concentration. 

“Fuck you’re perfect,” he moans, his hips speeding up just a bit. You can’t help but steal a look at Minho, who watches you both from the same chair he’s been sitting in, slowly stroking himself, lip tucked tightly between his teeth. 

You lift your hips a bit to meet Hyunjins thrusts, sliding your hands down his sides, around his thighs to pull him closer, deeper. 

“Hyunjin,” you whisper, his name a plea for him to do something, though you’re unsure of what. Feeling his cock drag in and out, hitting some delicious spot within, watching Minho look and hearing his little gasps every time you whimper or moan might actually be your undoing. 

Hyunjins movements become more desperate, more erratic, and you’re sure he won’t be able to hold himself back much longer. You take his face in your hands and he looks at you, “Make me cum,” you gently drag his hand down to your neck, his breath stutters as he wraps his long, delicate fingers around your throat to hold you down gently while he fucks into you. You push back with every thrust, causing a rough but welcome collision and you cum so hard around his cock that you can feel it in your very bones. You cry out, hips bucking just a bit off the sofa as you spasm around him. 

He thrusts into you only twice more before freezing, his breath escaping in a muffled moan as he buries his face into your neck. 

Hyunjin pulls you towards him and captures your lips with his.

“Perfect,” he whispers. 

Minho finally makes his way to the couch, Hyunjin moves aside, practically collapsing. 

“Feel better?” Minho smiles, rubbing circles on your legs. 

You nod, claiming his hand in yours to lace your fingers together. 

He looks between your legs, “You’re a mess,” he drags the back of his finger up your slit, swirling Hyunjins leaking fluids around your own. You shudder with a gasp at the stimulation. 

“Come, let’s go upstairs,” Minho stands and extends his hand to you; he pauses briefly in front of Hyunjin and stares, then caresses his jawline with his thumb, “you did good, impressive. Come on.” 

Minho leads you both into the master bath where he reaches into the walk-in to start a shower. You step close to him and start undoing the buttons of his shirt, looking up at him as he strokes your hair. You continue silently undressing him until the three of you stand totally naked in the middle of your steamy bathroom. 

Minho grabs your chin with his fingertips and draws you into him, his mouth desperate for yours and your lips crash together with urgent moans. In your peripheral you can see Hyunjin step into the shower and rinse himself off, he reaches out and tugs on you and Minho, who barely takes his mouth off you to shuffle into the warm water. 

“Is this what you wanted?” Minho asks in a grunt as he picks you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. “Wanted to be our needy little slut, so fucking pretty and sweet, getting fucked out by both of us?” he whispers as your back presses against the cold stone of the shower wall. 

You grin like the cheshire cat and nod, “Mmhmm.” 

Minho smiles and shakes his head at you before his lips overtake yours again, and you also feel Hyunjins hands roaming as he puts himself between your back and the wall, his body much warmer and less scratchy than the stone. You can feel Minhos hard erection sliding against your soaked pussy and your breath hitches. Hyunjins wet hands slide around your body and he fingers at your nipples, stroking and squeezing. Minho leans in and you watch through the steam as he takes Hyunjins mouth with his own, his cock rubbing against your clit as he positions himself to fuck you against Hyunjin. 

This exceeds even your highest expectation of what this experience would be like. Feeling Minho bouncing you on his cock while you listen to the two of them moan into each others mouths, Hyunjins fingers circling your clit gently while the other hand takes turns playing with your breasts and yanking your hair to tilt your head back for neck kisses. 

“Fuck,” you whine, the impossible ache inside you is building again, you can’t remember the last time you orgasmed three times in one evening, or if you ever have, but you’re going to. 

“Gonna cum for me Love?” Minho presses his forehead against yours, breathless, pumping his hips up into you. 

“Yes,” you half laugh in delirium, “Fuck, yes keep going…” 

You can feel his fingertips digging into the sides of your ass, feel how desperate he is to finish, you lean your head forward to kiss him, sucking his bottom lip between your teeth and biting as you reach your high. Your orgasm comes out in a choked gasp, your body completely spent, and you feel him pull out a bit and spill himself all over your cunt. 

Hyunjin washes you off while Minho catches his breath then the three of you, unbothered to put on clothes or even dry off, collapse on your bed, drops of water everywhere but no one caring. 

You’re not surprised that Minho pulls you in immediately, wrapping his arm around you tight - possessive. 

“I can’t believe that just happened,” you sigh, eyes already shut and sleep getting closer and closer to overtaking you. 

“Pleasure isn’t a bad thing people,” Hyunjin yawns, switches off the lamp, then flips to his side to properly sandwich you in. His long, lean arm draped over you while his fingers massage circles on Minhos shoulder. “It’s not this thing that has to be confined in a specific little box, used for one specific purpose at a time like it isn’t supposed to just be this fun, enjoyable thing-,” 

“Hyunjin?” Minho grumbles with closed eyes. 

“Yes boss?”

“Stop talking and go to sleep.” 

“Yes boss,” he laughs.

Endnotes:

I think I'm going to try to tag my taglist besties in the comments this time and see how that goes and where it takes us.

As usual, if you've made it far enough to read this, here's your virtual smooch <3

[billwidoll]

𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠e

_________________________

It was Christmas Eve, and you were happy and excited. Your life was perfect. After adolescence, everything got better for you. You married a successful man, and had two wonderful children.

And his family was having a beautiful and luxurious supper

You didn't have to complain about anything. But one thing haunted you, when you were seventeen, you dated a twenty year old man named Rafe Cameron. Your relationship was totally toxic, but the important thing was that you loved each other. But there was a day when you couldn't handle this relationship, and you ran away from Rafe's house without him noticing.

You knew that if you told him you wanted to break up, he might be able to kidnap you and take you captive. So you ran far away and to this day Rafe has never found you. Good so far...

"baby, I'm going to get the box of wine from the car"

You tell your husband, who was talking to some friends

"baby, there's no need, why don't you send some of the security guards to do it?"

Your husband says, having his full attention on you. You roll your eyes and give a small smile.

"I'll do it myself, okay? I'll be fine, what could happen?"

And so, you did, you left the house where you lived, and went to the car that wasn't too far from the house. You got to the car and opened the trunk, but the box of wine wasn't there. So you assumed you were in the passenger seat

When you got into the car, you didn't see any box of wines there, so you were about to leave, until you saw in the car's rear view mirror, a look behind the car. And you knew very well who that look was from

"Hello my princess"

Rafe spoke with a deep and hoarse voice, and with an empty look. You immediately tried to get out of the car, but Rafe was faster, putting a cloth over your mouth and pinning you against the passenger seat.

And little by little, you lost the consequence, with Rafe's gaze glued to your eyes.

_____________________

You woke up dizzy, with weak eyes, weak legs and your heart racing for hours. Your mind was still trying to figure out where you were, and how that happened so quickly.

When your eyes opened, you came across a small and cramped place, and there were several fisherman's things, you also felt as if the ground was shaking, and that place only had one Very small window.

"HELP!" You screamed, your head throbbing in pain "please! Someone help me!"

You scream even louder, and you realize there's a chain around your wrists, you weren't going to get it that easy.

But suddenly, you see someone opening the door, where you were. And he, he looks like a devil

"Hello princess....did you miss me?" Rafe speaks with a satisfying smile Your eyes fill with tears

Rafe looked different, he had cut his hair and seemed stronger and more confident.

"why? !" You scream to yourself, wondering how Rafe found you after years.

Rafe approaches you, and he touches your face gently. He didn't want to scare you but it was difficult

"because I love you, I loved you yesterday, I love you today and I will love you tomorrow"

Rafe says with a sadistic smile and you spit in his face

"I hate you!! You separated me from my children! From my husband!!!" You scream like a lion

Rafe gets angry when he remembers the ridiculous family you created after abandoning him. Rafe grabs his jaw and holds it.

"I loved you, long before these people came into your life! And I hope you love me, but they do"

Rafe says, clenching his jaw tightly.

"I don't love you, I stopped loving you years ago" you say in a whisper, dying of hate

Rafe saw that he had to scare you, for you to see what he was capable of doing.

"Do you want to play with me? You'll play with me better."

Rafe says, getting up furiously, leaving the small room where you were.

At that moment it made you distressed, and Rafe was crazy and you knew it.

It was exactly one minute that Rafe returned to where you were. And he comes back with his ring and an iron.

"what will you do?"

You speak with desperate eyes, and Rafe unlocks the chains, which were back on your wrist.

Rafe grabbed your arm and abruptly pulled you towards the exit of the little room. And you realized it was a ship. Rafe throws you around Fireplace

"Rafe....please! Don't hurt me! For my children!" You scream expecting the worst

Rafe takes his ring and puts it on the iron, And then he puts the iron in the fireplace and they stay there for 30 seconds.

When he takes it off he grabs your arm roughly and tries to put the hot ring on your arm.

"Rafe!!! Please stop!!!" you say struggling, but it didn't take long for Rafe to put it on your arm

And the pain was so strong, that there were no tears that could fall because of that pain.

"Do you remember the ring my father gave me, when we were still dating? It had the initial, the letters R and C"

Rafe speaks making you look at his arm, which had the initials R and C. Which was Rafe Cameron

Rafe carries you on his lap, knowing you were in a lot of pain, so he takes you to his room on the ship, which was probably his.

Rafe places you on his soft bed and examines you closely.

"Why Rafe? Why are you doing all this to me?" You speak with red eyes and your head down, you were already suffering too much.

"When you abandoned me...I fell into drugs, and became an alcoholic, I had nothing left to live for"

Rafe speaks and you listen attentively

"but later, I discovered that my father had passed away, and... I was the heir, who would own everything"

He continues to tell the story.

"and I decided to give up drugs and drinking and become a real loan, so I decided to look for you"

He says, running his hands over your face, giving you an almost friendly smile.

"but...I already have a family Rafe...couldn't you just move on?" You say crying once again.

"no, my love, you are the woman of my life! I fucking love you" Rafe says, changing a little but he takes a deep breath and continues

"I didn't bring you here just to have you for myself again, but to make you suffer all the evil I suffered because of you!"

Rafe says, pressing the place where you were hurt by him, And it makes you scream in pain.

"Welcome, The Revenge"

_____________________

[kykyonthemoon]

Hello! Could I please request a Zayne x reader where Zayne helps the reader study for her med school exams?? Thank you <3

Dear valyvinny,

I didn't get the chance to finish this request during the summer, so here it is now, for back-to-school season. I hope you enjoy this little piece <3

I'm not sure if you had an exam by the time you sent me this request? But if you did, I hope it was well.

Thank you so much for entrust this idea in my hands. Take care~

Revision

── .✦ Zayne x MC (F.Reader)

── .✦ Tags: childhood friends, fluff, sweet, short fic, late night study session

── .✦ Word count: over 800w

── .✦ Masterlist ♡ Request a fic - closed for the time being.

The silver moon hovered in the pure sky. The crickets had stopped chirping, and the cats were casually wandering on the roof. The entire neighborhood was in a peaceful sleep. Only the light from the half-closed window in your room remained brilliant.

You covered your mouth and yawned deeply. Documents, paper, and pencils were scattered about your desk, along with sweets and pastry wrappers. You were in your jammies, absolutely comfortable, with your hair a little unkempt. You should have fallen asleep a long time ago. But you sat there, with a remarkably strict "teacher" by your side.

Doctor Zayne was checking the assignment you had just completed. You wonder why it was so late, but he still seemed attentive. He was always neat, from the clothes he had not even changed out of when he showed up at your house right after work, to the very concentrated, serious expression on his face. As expected of a brilliant young doctor. A moment later, he returned the paper with a bunch of red circles on it.

"Do it again." Zayne spoke, and you sighed heavily. But you did not dare tell him to go home because he was there for you. There was just one month till your long-awaited medical school admission exam. You must work harder than your best.

Ever since you met Zayne as children, you had admired his family. His father and mother were also renowned doctors. Zayne eventually enrolled in medical school and became a doctor at a very young age. You must admit that your decision to pursue medicine was primarily due to his efforts. Zayne and his family inspired you, and you wanted to one day stand by them.

So, starting in the tenth grade, you focused on studying medicine-related subjects. Fortunately, Zayne agreed to become your tutor. He studied with you for hours after school. There was just one month remaining until you could reap the fruits of your efforts. But the closer the exam date got, the more nervous you became and the longer the hours Zayne stayed at your house.

Doctor Zayne arrived at your house as soon as he finished his duties that day. After a light supper prepared by Grandma, he and you spent hours reviewing. You would occasionally stop for treats. Sweets kept you awake. Even though Zayne warned you that you would get cavities, he enjoyed these sweets too and shared them with you.

It was past midnight and you were quite sleepy. But Zayne would not let you rest until you finished solving all these exercises. You reflected about it and were unable to figure out what went wrong. Obviously, you followed his directions. You scratched your head for a moment before realizing where the problem was.

“Doctor Zayne! It's not because I was careless that I made a mistake here. It's because your handwriting is so hard to read!” 

Zayne's eyes widened as he looked at your notebook where he had written the solution to the assignment on it. He seemed offended. 

“Are you making excuses for your mistakes again?”

“No! Clearly this word..." You pushed the notebook close to his face. “Here! I'm not sure what these words are anymore… Are those helminths?”

Zayne grabbed your wrist to pull the notebook out. His brow furrowed when he looked at you. 

“Will they teach me how to read a doctor's handwriting in medical school?”

Zayne lightly tapped your forehead. 

“Ouch!” 

"You should focus on your studying and yet, you keep thinking nonsense." Zayne said. He then took the notebook and crossed out the notes with a pen. After that, he meticulously wrote down each new word. “Is this easier to read now?”

“Sure.” Zayne returned the notebook to you, which you gladly accepted. “While I study hard, shouldn't Doctor Zayne also brush up on his handwriting?”

“You should worry about yourself first.” 

Despite his apparent displeasure at having his handwriting ridiculed, Zayne meticulously rewrote each line of previous notes for you. While working on your assignment, you secretly looked at him and smiled to yourself.

Doctor Zayne was so concentrated on what he was doing that he failed to notice his little student had fallen asleep on the desk. He gently shook your shoulders awake. But you brushed his hand away while dreaming.

“Helminths… Go away…”

Zayne grinned slightly. Perhaps all you needed was a good night's sleep to refuel your spirit. You had been studying really hard, not only in the last few days, but for many years. He believed you to pass the exam for the school you sought and become his colleague.

Gently, Zayne lifted you into his arms. He put you on the bed and helped you cover yourself with the blanket. You turned slightly but did not wake up completely. He remained on the side of the bed, watching you for a little longer. His fingers softly pulled away the strand of hair that was obscuring your face.

You once made a bet that if you could get into medical school, Zayne would date you. Even though he did not answer you at that time, he had been waiting for your great news. Before leaving, Zayne leaned down, gently kissed your forehead and whispered:

“Sleep well. I'm still waiting for the day you win the bet."

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Jareth courting you during autumn would include~

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(These hcs are slightly centered around Halloween, so sorry if you were looking for something different!)

- There’s a lingering warmth that hangs in the Underground even as the normal world turns bleak and cold. You wonder if it’s like this all year round: if the brick walls that seal you inside the manmade; or fae-made, labyrinth also fend off the crisp chill of the regular autumn air. You can’t bring yourself to ask about it either way. You want to stay wondering: want to enjoy the strange world for what it is instead of wondering why it is. Everything inside the labyrinth seems to be just as you like it. You suppose that’s Jareth’s way of making you want to stick around.

- Nevertheless, you’ll occasionally find that the air grows colder right before Jareth arrives or when you find yourself straying too far from his side. The pleased smile that flits across his lips when you gravitate towards him and his body heat is evidence enough that he has some kind of hand in the changing of the winds. He likes you close, nearly shoulder to shoulder or chest to chest. You’ve found that lingering out of his reach proves troublesome in more ways than one….

- Different creatures surface during the changing of the seasons: some emerge from their dens, some retreat away, some grow thicker fur, and some simply grow more ravenous; their new attitudes rendering them unrecognizable from their summery counterparts. Areas of the labyrinth change as well. Leaves fall, as do trees and seeds and rocks, holes and burrows get dug, landslides crumble, things break apart. The labyrinth is perilous on a good day, it grows even more dangerous during seasons of uncertainty.

- Though with it's danger comes an even greater beauty, one that has you pleading with Jareth to escort you around the Underground whenever you have the chance. The two of you go for walks around the kingdom nearly every day, watching the leaves change color and the autumn harvest gradually rise from the earth. When Jareth is too busy to accompany you, he makes sure that one or more of his subjects are around to keep an eye on you, making sure that you're safe wherever you decide to go.

- The Underground is bathed in an orange glow during the in-betweens of day and night. Everything sparkles and shines in the fading sun, and the smell of smoke and spices pour out of the stone chimneys found around Goblin city and the fires that warm Jareth's castle. The light disappears quicker amongst the stacked houses and thick walls, and though you deny that you're cold, Jareth simply smirks at your stubbornness and throws his cape over your shivering shoulders.

- After long days outside, you get back to the castle and have a hot supper together, basking in the warmth of the fire and the different candles that light the room. Though the goblins aren't the best cooks, Jareth's ensured that they know how to make things that he knows you'll enjoy: warm soups and filling foods that remind you of the things you have back at home. He likes to be close to you when you eat: likes being able to watch you and hear you talk more than you usually do. You lower your guard when you're amongst the normalness and the quiet of the empty dining room, and Jareth likes to see you feeling particularly at home and comfortable.

- There's something about traveling between the real world and the Underground that makes you feel like a kid again, like you're still celebrating Halloween in your youth. Something about it reminds you of how it felt to trick or treat late at night: like you're doing something you're not supposed to with the safety of knowing that you're allowed. It's the nostalgic feeling of still believing in magic, of the world suddenly turning fantastical and whimsical and strange. It's the same giddy emotion you get when watching a seasonal movie, of having your fantasies beautifully fulfilled in full.

- Travelling to the Underground doesn't always make sense. Oftentimes, Jareth will seek you out as the sun begins to set and you'll enter his realm just as it's beginning to rise. Sometimes it's morning or noon when he materializes in your home, and when you arrive at his castle, you're standing under a sky of shimmering stars. It adds to the magic of it, makes it feel even more like a dream.

- Either decorating the castle with the goblins or having Jareth order them around in preparation for your arrival. He's unfamiliar with the traditions of the holiday/season, but he lets you wreak havoc in whatever festive way you'd like. Bring those over there. She wants those strung up. What are you waiting for? He raises a brow at the poor creatures when they look at him in bewilderment, making them hurriedly start doing whatever was asked/commanded of them.

- Whether it includes using his magic or simply using his goblin servants, anything you ask for is yours. Want pumpkins? He'll send his minions out to retrieve some. Want atmospheric weather? He'll conjure it up in a second. He'll go as far as to change entire areas of the labyrinth just to make you happy. Like I said: anything you want is yours.

- Jareth likes to pretend he isn't interested in/is above your childish human traditions, but his curious gaze tends to defy him whenever you busy yourself with an unfamiliar task. He'll watch from the sidelines, glancing away whenever someone looks towards him, pretending he isn't amused/vaguely fascinated by whatever's going on. He thinks it's silly that you insist on cooking things instead of just letting/making the goblins do it, or that you want to rake the leaves and jump into the manmade piles. Though he refuses to do it himself, he grows jealous whenever the goblins agree and make you happy in the process.

- The goblin king can't help but scoff when you fondly tell him about corn mazes in the real world. He jealously brags about his own maze; his labyrinth, and asks if you'd like to give his a try if you like them so much. He doesn't actually expect you to agree, or at least doesn't expect you to be so determined about it. He likely sends his goblins out to tail you and make sure that you're not grievously injured during your little adventure: commanding them to go around the kingdom closing oubliettes, moving rocks, and scaring different beasts away as you cluelessly continue on with your journey....

- In the beginning, he watches you with vague amusement, occasionally appearing and making comments about having déjà vu and things of the sort. He tries to convince you to take a break and spend time with him, growing bored with the whole idea when you refuse and insist that you're going to beat his labyrinth. He might even have his subjects lead you towards shortcuts just so you can finish quicker, letting you brag to him about how easy it was when you make your way inside the castle, letting you feel all accomplished while he tugs you close to him and forces you to make up for lost time.

- Speaking of beasts: though the goblin king is prone to jealousy, he might gift you a creature to keep you company/safe whenever he's not able to spend time with you. It's likely an adorably ugly, furry, and hulking critter that follows after you obediently and lays across your lap to keep you warm. Jareth might pretend that you found the thing all on your own; and you might be convinced due to the slight rivalry that the two of them have going on, but rest assured that there's a reason that the beast suddenly appeared during one of your mini travels.

- Fair warning: teaching goblins how to carve pumpkins is a vaguely terrifying experience. It's like trying to teach a room full of slightly violent preschoolers how to do an activity that's completely foreign to them. They cluelessly try to follow along, hesitating at first and looking to Jareth for permission before hurriedly doing as you say. They get very invested very quickly, however, and you'll soon find yourself in a room full of noisy, excited little creatures.

- Goblins love scary stories. They recount them in gruesome detail whenever you ask them to/mention that it's holiday tradition. Jareth usually sits by your side and grimaces while he listens, his hand on his chin and his eyes flicking over to you, watching you hang on to the storytellers every word. He doesn't understand why you're so enamored with such ugly little tales, but he allows them to be told all the same.

- Some of the goblins would likely ask to do Halloween activities all year round/whenever you come to visit, loving the newfound rituals/games you've introduced them to. You might find that the goblins keep Jack-o'-lantern's on their doorsteps all the way into spring and summer, or that they tell cover their "yards" with hay or "fallen" leaves (leaves they've plucked from trees and forced to shrivel up).

- Receiving whimsical gifts. Your home in the real world is decorated with magical souvenirs, things you tend to keep hidden or dodge questions about whenever company comes over. These gifts tend to defy logic and science, and they make even your boring old bedroom seem fantastical, exciting, and strange.

- Somedays, you like to stay with Jareth in your own world, showing him different Halloween movies and listening to seasonal music. Familiar activities take an interesting turn when you're doing them with a magic wielding goblin kings.

- You explain different holiday traditions to him whenever they come up in conversation, telling him about this and that while he sits and listens patiently. The perfect time to whisk them away, isn't it? He'd said teasingly when you told him about trick or treating, wrapping his arms around you while you tried to glare at and scold him. I suppose you'll just have to spend the night with me to ensure that I don't do anything of the sort.

- Your Halloween desserts are a guilty pleasure of his. He can always find it in himself to excuse the boredom you put him through while waiting for you to be finished whenever you finally reward him with a proud smile and a sweet treat.

- There's likely some kind of portal in your home that allows you to enter into the Underground without Jareth's help. It also allows for the goblins to sneak into your world, happily roaming around your house and wreaking havoc wherever they go. Whether you willingly invite them over or not, you still have fun babysitting the little rascals and getting them to help you with your Autumn-related endeavors; even if they leave you with more of a mess than anything else. Jareth can always right whatever wrongs they commit in a matter of minutes, so you never really have to worry. He also finds it amusingly sweet whenever you plead with him to be merciful with the creatures whenever they decide to pay you a visit without his permission.

- When you find yourself feeling lonely or unable to sleep, you sometimes make your way deeper into the castle and see what the goblins are doing. Sometimes you'll be able to stumble across a makeshift goblin party or decide to make one on your own: convincing the creatures to divvy out some snacks and drinks and play some music or party games. It's chaotic, but it's always fun, and you'll find yourself getting so caught up in it that you don't even notice Jareth standing in the doorway. He'll raise a brow at you when you finally lock eyes, smirking in amusement when you smile at him sheepishly.

"Time for bed, don't you think?" He teases hintingly, leaning against the doorframe as he waits for you to untangle yourself from the party. He's somewhat amused as he leads you back to your room; whether in the castle or back in the real world, and he promises to show you what a real party looks like in the very near future.

- The party in question is a masquerade ball, one that's likely set on the night of Halloween. The entire point of it is to try and top your little goblin get together; an incredibly simple affair, yet the extravagance of it would make one assume that he was trying to outshine an entire royal ball. The dancehall's decorations take on a gothic twist, the room is lit by candelabras and chandeliers, the guests are dressed in gaudy satin and velvet and lace.

- You yourself are dressed indulgently, wearing the gown and the jewelry that Jareth gifted you in anticipation of the holiday event. He spoils you rotten with the outfit: making sure that every hem and stitch is in line with your deepest fantasies. He tries to entice you with promises that you could be wearing similar things everyday if you simply chose to stay with him in the Underground, smiling impishly at you when you fondly tell him to focus on his dancing.

- You spend all night dancing and drinking and laughing with all of the Goblin Kings eccentric party guests. You take it all in until you physically can't anymore, collapsing happily into the cushions of an armchair at the end of the night, resting your feet and catching your breath. Your head is fuzzy as you watch Jareth approach you, fading in and out of view between the vibrant, moving company. He asks if you've had enough for the night, offering you his hand and leading you out of the room, members of the crowd parting for the two of you like the red sea. You feel like a child being carried off to bed, hearing the chorus of voices and laughter grow quieter and quieter as you slink up stone staircases and down long empty hallways.

- You soon find yourself standing at the ledge of his castle, looking out amongst the entirety of his kingdom and his labyrinth, admiring the autumn atmosphere late at night. It's easy to want to stay there forever when you feel like this, to be swayed to agree to be his and his alone. Everything is so beautiful in that moment: perfect beyond compare. When Jareth comes up behind you and embraces you, you feel as though the whole world is embracing you, and without hesitation, you find yourself embracing it back....

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Slip and Fall (dp x dc)

It had started when he’d moved to Gotham and, maybe more importantly, when he’d moved out of Amity. The ghost attacks had finally started to calm down thanks to the systemic overhaul the Ghost Zone had experienced after Pariah Dark had been imprisoned for the second time. With a better structure, they had actually started to be able to wrangle their own criminals instead of leaving it to a half-dead (and very tired) teen.

While that had been a big relief on the ghost side of things, the human side of thing had also gone through a major upheaval. His parents actually not shooting at a ghost envoy long enough to actually hear them out had been a minor miracle. Them actually believing said envoy had felt like a straight-up dream. To go from ghost hunter to ghost right defender was a big change, but Fentons didn’t do things halfway. Except Danny of course, but that couldn’t be helped.

With Amity being able to stand on its own without needing Phantom around, Danny had finally been able to focus on school and just being normal for once, and so he had. The last three years had been wonderful. He’d worked his ass off to get his grades back up and he’d even had time to actually made friends with some of the A-listers. Sam and Tucker had likewise been able to enjoy the full teenager experience and had also been glad to get a bit of normalcy back.

By the time graduation rolled around, they’d all applied and gotten accepted into different universities. They’d planned to go to the same close-by college but Jazz had disagreed. Their fields of studies were different and she’d said they owed it to themselves to find the best program for each. Which was why Danny had found himself in Gotham, in a student apartment not too far from campus with a job at the nearest coffee shop. The first month there had been exciting and full of new things. Gotham was a big city, much different from the comparatively smaller Amity and there were novel sights and stuff everywhere. His classes had been interesting and he’d met a ton of new people.

The second month had rolled by and as the elation had settled, Danny had started feeling a bit lonely. He’d reasoned that it was because he couldn’t see his friends as often and had doubled the phone-calls back home. He’d thought it was just a bit of home-sickness and that’d it go away soon.

But then, things didn’t get better. Instead, Danny felt himself growing distant from everything around him. He still talked to people in his classes, he still video-called his sister and friends every week but he felt removed from it all. Like he was a passerby, observing everyone else go through their lives. It was like he was floating away, farther and farther from his life. It was disconcerting, but Danny felt too detached to care about it very much.

After another unremarkable shift at the coffee shop, Danny had stumbled into his apartment and absent-mindedly prepared his supper. As he was picking at the mashed potatoes, a strange feeling started in his chest. He frowned as he rubbed at it, only for it to grow into an intense cold feeling that spread through his extremities. Danny struggled to get up to walk towards the phone as his body froze over. He didn’t make it before the numbing feeling completely took over and his mind slowed accordingly before he closed his eyes and lost himself to peaceful nothingness.

Danny’s consciousness returned slowly to him. He could vaguely hear hushed voices but as he tried to open his eyes, it was to find it impossible, his body unwieldy. Before he lost consciousness again, Danny managed to catch a few words which sounded like “help” and “inside”.

The second time he woke up, his mind felt much clearer and though sitting up took considerably more effort than he would’ve expected, he still managed to do so and take stock of where he’d ended up. It was a big room with big and curtained glass windows that let in sunlight that illuminated the dedicatedly carved wood furniture. The bed itself was queen-sized with high-quality linen and luxuriously plump pillows. Danny’s eyes turned to the window and the small corner of green lawn he could see from his vantage point. Before he could attempt to get closer, the door to his room opened and a man walked in.

“Oh, you’re awake!” exclaimed the man as he got closer to Danny’s bedside. “We were worried after finding you passed out last night but it’s good to see you back with us.”

Danny tried to talk only to find himself unable to get anything but a croak to come out. Embarrassment had his cheeks warming, but the man’s eyes were kind as he handed Danny a glass of water he hadn’t noticed on the nightstand. The water felt good for his parched throat and he tried again.

“Where am I?” Danny rasped.

“This is Wayne Manor,” the man said. “My wife and I found you yesterday. What’s your name?”

[callsign-dexter]

Burning Determination

Request: if your request are now closed I understand but I was wondering if you could write a fic where it’s Owen Strand x daughter reader? Maybe a sick fic where she’s determined to continue working but is like an inch away from passing out?

Pairings: Owen Strand x Daughter!Reader, TK Strand x Sister!Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, sickness, hospitals, needles, vomit

Masterlist

You knew something wasn't right when you got up for work this morning. You felt way too hot, you were sweating through your clothes, and you looked pale. You so dearly wanted to stay home but you hadn't scheduled the time off and you couldn't leave your coworkers one person short. Also you were a Strand you couldn't let a little sickness stop you from working. You are the twin sister of TK Strand and the daughter of Owen Strand. 

As you got up from your bed the energy seemed to drain from you and you felt like passing out right back into bed but you needed to go to work. You stood there for a minute before everything stopped spinning and you slowly made it to your bathroom. You slowly and a little bit unsteady got in the shower and washed yourself of the sweat and then you were slowly getting out after you were done and got dressed and brushed your teeth and your hair. You were almost out the door when your stomach churned and you were heading straight to the guest bathroom and throwing up whatever you had in your stomach. When you were done getting rid of the contents in your stomach you got up flushed and rinsed your mouth out you were out the door and heading to your truck. “You can do this. It's just 3 days.” You said to yourself as you put your truck into gear and headed towards the station. You had the air blasting on you which felt really good.

Finally you arrived at the station and you parked your truck beside your dad's. You sat in your truck for a few minutes and closed your eyes and accidentally drifted off and you would know this because there was a knock on your window which jerked you awake. You looked over and saw it was Judd Ryder. You opened the door and he smiled softly at you. “You ok?” He asked and you smiled back at him.

“Yea, I'm perfectly fine. Didn't sleep well last night and decided to catch up on some sleep before going in.” You said and he nodded but didn't look convinced.

“Are you sure?” He asked

“I'm fine, Judd. I promise.” You said as you jumped out of the truck and you stumbled ever so slightly. 

“Y/N/N.” He warned and you waved him off.

“I'm fine. It was just a bad misstep. I'm ok.” You said 

“Ok ok. Just if you start feeling bad or anything please let someone know.” He pleaded

“I will. I promise.” You said and he seems satisfied with that answer. You weakly grabbed your bag and the both of you started your trek into the firehouse conversation being made along the way. You so badly wanted to stop and take a breath but you couldn't not now, you couldn't let him see you weak. By the time you reached the stairs to head up and put your stuff in a locker your head was spinning and you were on fire but you had to push through and hope not too many calls would come through. 

You were just about to start ascending the stairs when your brother's voice came to your ringing ears. “Hey, Sis. You ok?” He asked if anyone would notice how sick you were it would be your paramedic twin brother. You also know that he would be the hardest to convince along with your father.

“Hey, TK. I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?” You asked, putting on a smile and he looked at you with an eyebrow raised. 

“You just seem off. You also didn't meet Carlos and I for supper last night.” He said

“Shit, I totally forgot. I'm so sorry.” You said and he smiled and shook his head.

“It's ok. Nothing to fret over. We don't hold grudges.” He said and you chuckled which made your head hurt and your body ache. You needed water. You squeezed your eyes closed and he took notice of this. “Are you sure you're ok?” He asked.

“TK I promise I'm fine. I just have a little bit of a headache, nothing a little rest, Tylenol, and fluids won't fix.” You said and he didn't look convinced but he took the answer.

“Fine. Let me know if it gets worse. Please?” He pleaded 

“I will. I promise.” You said as the bells rang signaling for the ambulance. The sound went straight to your pounding head but you didn't move not wanting to throw anyone off. 

“Well, I gotta go. You go sit and get something in you. You don't look so good.” He said 

“I will. Be safe and I love you.” You said 

“Love you too, Sis.” He said and then he was taking off and hopped into the ambulance and they were off. You sighed finally alone you made it up the stairs and to the locker room where you put your stuff and headed into the kitchen. You quickly grabbed what you were looking for and then you were going and landing yourself on the couch laying down. You put an arm across your eyes and actually drifted off. You were waking up to someone calling your name and it turned out to be your father.

“Hey, Y/N/N. Wake up.” He said and you groaned but did as you were told. 

“Hmmm I'm awake.” You said and sat up quickly and instantly regretted it. “How long was I asleep?” You asked.

“30 minutes.” Your dad said.

“Shit did I miss a bell?” You asked and he shook his head.

“No. Are you feeling ok?” He asked 

“Why does everyone keep asking me that? I'm fine.” You said 

“It's not normal for you to sleep on shift when it's not night time. What's wrong?” He asked and you shook your head.

“Nothing is wrong.” You said and he gave you that fatherly look saying ‘don't lie to me’. “I'm just trying to get caught up on some sleep. I didn't sleep well last night.” You said and he rose an eyebrow but knew that if he pushed you then you would close off. Besides after that nap you were feeling a little better. Then just as your luck would have it the bells went off and you groaned. 

“Come on. We have to get going.” He said and stood and so did you but you stood there for a minute while black dots filled your vision. Your father didn't notice and went on. After they disappeared and good to go you got up and rushed downstairs and pulled your gear on. You hopped into the truck and then you were off to the call. Having all the gear on you made your temperature start to rise and you to sweat. You were having trouble breathing but masked it well and your body was drained of energy. Any more strenuous activity and you would be passing out but that's what your job called for so you sucked it up and continued on. 

When the truck arrived at the scene it appeared to be an apartment fire and it had to be all hands on deck. You sighed and got out, legs shaking but you quickly made them stop and waited for your captain to give orders. “Y/N, Judd I want you to go in there and get anyone else out. Paul, Marjon start putting the fire out. Mateo and I will help TK, Nancy, and Tommi with rounding everyone else up and getting them medical attention that they need.” Your dad said and everyone acknowledged the orders and then you were off to do your job. Your turnout gear felt too hot and too heavy when it normally didn't bother you. The mask made it seem like it was suffocating you more and stealing your air. The oxygen tank didn't help either. You were very close to passing out but moved on. 

“You good?” Judd asked as you two began to enter the apartment.

“Yea, yea I'm good. Hey, do you mind taking the top floors and I stay close to the bottom?” You asked

“Not all. Call me if you need me.” He said and you nodded and then started to work on clearing the first floor out.

“Fire department call out!” You yelled and got nothing and so you kept calling out as you checked everywhere, each call out took your breath away but you cleared the first floor “Judd first floor is clear. Heading to second.” You said and moved on to the second floor. 

“Copy that. The 4th floor is clear. Heading to third.” He said 

“Copy that.” You said a little breathlessly and you hoped nobody caught onto it and it seemed like they didn't because they didn't say anything. “Fire department call out!” You said and that one made you a little light headed and you had to lean against the wall for a second. 

“Help! I'm trapped!” A tiny female voice said and that got you going despite the sweat dripping down your face and getting in your eyes. 

“Fire department call out!” You said 

“Here!” The voice said and you went to the 5th door on the right. 

“Are you away from the door?” You asked

“Yes.” She said and you broke down the door and found the little girl huddled in the corner, the fire just starting to make its way into the home. 

“I'm here, Sweetie. I'm gonna get you to safety.” You said and she nodded “Where are you parents?” You asked.

“They're at work. I’m with my babysitter. She got hit with something and got knocked out .” She said tears in her eyes and your heart broke. 

“Judd, I'm gonna need some help down here. I got a little girl and she said her parents are at work and she was with her babysitter but she got hit and knocked out by something.” You said 

“Copy. 3rd floor is clear. Coming down now.” He said 

“Copy.” You said and then turned to the little girl. “I'm gonna get you out of here and my friend will get your babysitter out ok?” You asked and she nodded.

“Ok.” She said and you picked her up and made her bury her head into your turnout gear to decrease to smoke inhalation. As you were starting to walk out  Judd walked through the door. 

“Rest of the floor is clear. You go on and get her out and I'll get the babysitter out.” He said and you nodded and so you headed out of the room as fast as you could but you started to not feel good and light headed. 

“What is your name?” You asked her to try to take your mind off of feeling sick.

“Josey.” She said and you smiled.

“That's a pretty name. I'm Y/N.” You said 

“I like that name.” She said 

“Me too.” You replied as you quickly descended the stairs and out of the lobby. You were quick to take off your helmet and yell for your brother. “TK!” You shouted and he looked up and came rushing over. 

“What do we got?” He asked

“This is Josey. She was in the room with her babysitter when the fire started. Judd should be bringing out the babysitter any minute now.” He said and nodded and guided you over to a spot and you set her down as he and Tommi started to work on her and you walked away. You ripped the mask off and breathed heavily hands on your knees, you were exhausted. 

“You ok?” Marjan asked and you looked up at her.

“Yes. Why?” You asked

“You do not look good.” She said 

“I'm ok.” You said as black dots started to appear and you started to sweat more Breathing became difficult. You were getting light headed by the second. 

“Owen!” She yelled and he looked up to where she was and his eyes widened. TK looked up too and did the same thing Tommi told him to go and the two Strand men were rushing to your side. 

“Y/N!” Your dad said as he practically caught you as you started to tumble down.

“Sis!” TK said as he started to take off your heavy gear and throw your turnout coat off and then they could really see that you were soaking wet from sweat. 

“What do I need to do?” Marjan asked

“Go and grab my med kit from the ambulance.” TK said and she nodded and took off.

“You're burning up.” Your dad said as he helped lower you down to where you were sitting on the step of the firetruck. 

“I'm ok.” You said and waved him off and he shook his head.

“No you're not.” He replied as Marjan arrived with TK's get and started to get everything out. He grabbed a thermometer and quickly took your temperature and he quickly beeped. 

“103.2.” He said 

“You shouldn't have come to work if you were feeling this bad. How long have you been like this?” Your dad asked.

“Since last night.” You said as Marjan handed you a Gatorade.

“Here it'll help with your lost electrolytes.” She said 

“Thank you.” You said weakly and opened it and downed half of it. 

“I want you to go to the hospital.” Your dad said

“Dad, no. I'm fine.” You said and he shook his head.

“As your dad and your captain I'm ordering you to go.” He said and you huffed.

“Fine.” You said and then looked at TK who was holding out a hand and you took it and he helped you up and you stumbled into him and the dark spots started to dance again. Everything sounded like it was underwater. 

“Y/N.” Your dad said but you had totally gone limp in your brother's arm finally letting the darkness take over.

“Fuck. I think she just passed out.” TK said as Nancy and Tommi came over with a gurney after seeing what happened. It was a really good thing that more than one firehouse was called out. They quickly got you onto the gurney and started to take off your heavy gear, thankfully you had pants on underneath. They pushed you over to the very close 126 Ambulance and loaded you in. They were quick to start cooling you down. As TK started to place an IV you started to wake up.

“Bro?” You asked and looked at him and he smiled.

“You passed out. We're taking you to the hospital and I'm gonna get an IV with cool fluids going ok?” He asked and you nodded as he placed a tourniquet around your arm and your veins popped up but he knew they would be fragile, but he was skilled at this and placed it with practiced ease. You whimpered but didn't make another sound “It's ok, Sis. I got ya.” He said and then started the fluids and they felt like fire running through your veins but you didn't make a sound and after a few seconds it started to feel good.

“TK we're here.” Nancy said as she stopped outside of the Emergency side of the hospital and they were quick to get you out and unloaded. 

They rolled you in and TK told the nurses and doctor what happened “She passed out at a scene. Temperature was 103.2, we've had cooling material and cool IV fluids on board so it may have come down. She said that she threw up before starting her shift this morning and she took Tylenol about 3 hrs ago. She also downed half a body of Gatorade, she then stood up and passed out in my arms and no she did not hit her head.” He said and they nodded in understanding as they transferred you to a bed. He would be staying since he was family and they allowed it. 

“I'm Dr. Hedges. I see her temperature has gone down to 102. We'll continue with the cooling down and hopefully that's all it is but we'll test her for viruses.” The doctor said and TK nodded and then your dad was rolling into the ER and he was being pointed to where you were. 

“How is she?” Your dad asked, turning to the doctor.

“As I was telling your son, I'm Dr. Hedges. Her temperature has gone down to 102. I want to run some tests for any viruses and I want to keep doing the cooling down treatments.” He said and your dad nodded.

“Cooling down how?” He asked 

“Cool towel on her head and cool fluids.” Dr. Hedges said and your dad nodded.

“Whatever needs to be done.” Your dad said and Dr. Hedges nodded as a nurse came in with a towel and a bowl of water then left. Your dad got to work on dabbing your forehead and then laying the towel over your forehead.

“I'll have a nurse in to grab what is needed for the tests.” He said and both your brother and dad nodded, already starting to fuss over you. It was 10 minutes after he left that you started to wake up.

“TK?” You asked

“I'm here and so is dad.” He said pointing to him and you looked over at him.

“Dad, I'm sorry.” You said 

“It's ok.” He said and you shook your head slightly.

“No it's not. I came to work when I was sick.” You said

“It really is ok. You're a Strand you got that stubborn gene in you. You also have the need to want to help people.” He said “Both of you do.” He said and you and TK chuckled and smiled. Soon the nurse was coming in.

“Good to see you awake Ms. Strand.” She said 

“Please just Y/N.” You said and she nodded.

“I'm just gonna grab some swabs and run some tests.” She said and you nodded and she smiled glad you actually have a cooperative patient. She got the swabs and put them in the container. “I'll get these going and Dr. Hedges will be back in afterwards with the results.” She said and all of you nodded and smiled. 

“It's probably a bad cold that I got from helping those kids at the local fair.” You said 

“Hopefully that's all and nothing else. Can't have you sick sick on me. I can't deal with dad alone.” TK said and you laughed and your dad looked offended.

“What's that supposed to mean?” He asked and you both shook your head.

“Nothing, Daddy. We love you.” You said and he looked at you suspiciously.

“Love you both too.” He said and then Dr. Hedges was walking in.

“Glad to see you awake, Y/N.” He said and you smiled.

“The nap helped.” You said and he smiled.

“It looks like the wet towel and cool fluids did the trick. You're temperature is down to 97.7, which is great. I got the results back and it does turn out you do have the flu and it must've been an aggressive one because the results came back very quickly. I suggest taking Tylenol every 8 hrs and get some Sudafed PE Head Congestion + Flu Severe Tablets to help with drying all the congestion up. Other than that I'm happy with your temperature and comfortable with releasing you.” He said and you nodded and smiled.

“Thank you, Dr. Hedges.” You said and the other two nodded and said the same thing.

“You're very welcome. I'll have a nurse in here with discharge papers and then you can be on your way.” He said and then was out of the room.

“Ok, so back to work.” You said 

“Oh, no.” Your dad and brother said at the same time. 

“What? I'm fine.” You said 

“You passed out in my arms and you were running a temperature. Not to mention you got sick before you even came to the station. You're not going back to work, you're going to go home and if I have to Carlos sit outside your house then I will. You're not leaving that house until you're better.” TK said and your mouth dropped open and you looked at your dad and he nodded.

“You're not going to work. You're going home. TK or I can bring your belongings to you.” Your dad said.

“But dad-” You started but was cut off by a nurse coming in with discharge papers and to take out the IV. She did so in silence while you glared at your dad and brother because you were perfectly fine to go back to work. Once the nurse was gone and the IV no longer in you, Carlos walked in. “TK!” You shrieked and looked at him.

“What? I didn't call him.” He said

“No, I was already here and heard you lot were here.” Carlos said “Wanted to make sure you or your brother hadn't landed in a coma.” He said.

“That's TK's specialty.” You said and he didn't deny it and everyone nodded knowing it was true. Finally you got up and walked out of the hospital with the three men and there was Judd in his truck waiting for the three of you. You bid Carlos a goodbye and then got in and he started off towards your house and not the station.

“Awww don't pout. You need your rest. I also got your meds that your dad texted me. Also your truck is here and here are the keys.” He said holding up the bag up and handing your keys to you which you took roughly and everyone chuckled and that made you just pout even more as he arrived at your house. You got out with TK and your dad and walked to the front door. 

“I can walk to the house myself.” You pointed out.

“Just want to make sure you're safe.” They said at the same time and you glared again at them. You grabbed your keys and unlocked the door and walked in and TK set the bag down on the table in the living room as your dad went to the kitchen and grabbed Gatorade that you had in there.

“Get some fluids in you and rest. One of us or both of us will be back to check on you.” Your dad said and you nodded and went to sit down on the couch. “Call anyone if you need anything.” Your dad added.

“I will.” You said and they nodded and then started to leave. Once Judd’s truck was gone you took that as your chance to leave. You started to make your way to the front door when a cop car caught the corner of your eye and you looked at it. “For fucks sake. Really?” You asked throwing your hands up and you mentally made a note to hit your brother “He actually went through with it.” You said. Carlos waved at you and you could see him chuckling, you waved back and then stalked off from the window and sat down on the couch. You turned on the TV and took your meds and drank some. 

Your glare slowly went away and you smiled and you shook your head. You were just glad you had people that loved you and wanted to look after you and to be honest you didn't feel up to go back to work you just wanted to lay around. You loved your dad and brother and they loved you back, if they didn't then they wouldn't be looking at for you. Although you were mad that they sent Carlos to sit outside of your house and for them making you stay home you didn't hate them. You chuckled and got comfortable on the couch and slowly you found yourself drifting off to sleep despite you sleeping at the hospital. As you drifted off you made a mental note to thank them later because without them your life wouldn't be what it was now. You were lucky and you loved them. You wouldn't trade them for anyone else. You three were stuck with each other.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@grandstrangerphantom

@angenu01-blog

@talesofreading

@callsign-revenge

[yanderepuck]

Okay. Theory time. Again @lulu-the-smol-floof and I never shut up about this shit. Spoilers for jp will probably happen below fyi

So lulu and I are always trying to figure out the timeline.

So here is what we are working with

Current time period: 1897(give or take a year)

Leonardo born: 1452

Galileo born: 1564; 'died' 1642

Comte born: ???

Vlad born: ???

What we know with Vlad and Comte is that they knew each other as little kids, meaning they are roughly the same age. And that Comte knew Vlad when his parents were still alive. Judging by his child sprite I want to say Vlad was no older than 8 when his parents died.

I like to think that Comte and Vlad really aren't that old bc it sounds funny. However. I'm reading Comte's route and get to this

Vlad thinks it's possibly been a few millennia. Comte says a few centuries.

Now you're probably wondering what Galileo has to do with this. Well that's bc Vlad stole the door blueprints from him.

So yes. Vlad and Comte could have known each other for centuries, but they haven't been separated for centuries because they only separated after the door.

It's possible that Galileo didn't destroy all the blue prints to the door so Vlad somehow found them, that already puts us at about 1590ish if we say Galileo was in his 30s when he made them.

Then I HIGHLY doubt they were able to make this door super easily. They probably had to hand make parts for it, they couldn't just go to a shop or ask a carpenter/blacksmith to make all these random ass parts. Comte has the VERY FIRST door, which is why it's so faulty. Plus Comte has the mansion built so let's just say a rough 10 years because they are getting this door working, and I feel like that is generous.

We are now at 1600

Now at some point in this time period Comte even meets Leonardo in Italy bc it's implied that Comte meets Leonardo while he's famous among humans. But Leonardo goes MIA after painting The Last Supper which is 1599

Anyway. 1600. They have the door about made. They are still friends and seem to be using it here and there for shits and giggles.

Now Will is the first one brought back in roughly 1840s. Will has been around for a few decades before anyone else. But Vlad and Comte already went their separate ways, and have been for a while.

So at some point between 1600 and 1800 they went their separate ways.

Yes we can call this a few hundred years bc it's almost 1900 and that puts the door at three centuries old. But there's no way you can mistake that for a few thousand

These gays have really only been separated for 2 centuries MAX

HOWEVER. PLOT TWIST. It is implied that Vlad and Comte used the door so much that they are no longer in their original timeline. Yeah this is where it gets confusing with time travel so I'll keep it simple.

Galileo (and Drake) are also not from this time line. Just like the lessers they used the door to go forward in time. In this theory that means that Leonardo is the only one who has organically gone through life. He's never used the door. He's lived every year. Comte and Vlad have skipped some OR have gone back in time and stayed there for so long that they have lived more years than they should

Confusing? Say Comte was born in 1400. But then 1600 comes along, uses the door and goes back in time to 1300. He was still born in 1400(which hasn't happened yet) but he is 200 years old, and if he stays there (doesn't go back to 1600) he will be 300 when he is born.

So Comte COULD tell us the year he was born, but that really means nothing if he spent multiple years in other time lines.

The other confusing thing is that this means he's lived in Paris for like 3 centuries but no one has caught on to him not aging.

Well that was long. I hope that all made sense. Good luck with all that info

[skippyv20]

Oh wow! 2025 just around the corner!!!!

Wishing you all a very Happy New Year. It’s hard to believe 2024 is on its way out. For many it’s been a good year, and for many a sad, difficult year. Looking back on the difficult times, remember this….you made it through. Even in those moments you didn’t think you could. It is when you reflect on it now, you will see that God was right there with you. We are never alone. I am so grateful for this wonderful community we have here, but so sad that Tumblr changed the rules. We have lost many that can’t write in anymore unless they set up a Tumblr account. Some just won’t do it, or can’t do it. I understand that. However, they are missed. This will change our prayer requests as well this year. We won’t have so many writing in. I hope that this will not change the fact that the few that do write in, still need our prayers. We will just be praying for fewer. I feel bad about that.

Along the way this year we have made new friends, and lost some friendships. People make choices and we move forward without them, still praying for them and wishing them well. People go though so many different life experiences, and we all react differently. Life gets in the way sometimes. Our lives can change in an instant. When that happens, we need each other the most. You all certainly have lifted me on my darkest days. I am so grateful for you all. You add so much to my life.

I haven’t been around much this Christmas. Things are just too blurry now, and to read and write on here is a struggle. It also gets on my nerves. It’s very frustrating. So I have taken some time off. I got through Christmas. I got through a fun filled Boxing Day. The basement backed up a bit in the furnace room. That meant not using any water. Dishes in a big bowl, and emptying water into a pail, rinse and repeat was fun. Brushing my teeth in a glass was fun. It added much comic relief remembering not to touch the water tap. It made me think of Christmas in the 1800’s. The plumbers charge double over Christmas. One guy didn’t call us back, the others said if you don’t want to pay double call back on January 2nd. So, Mr. Skippy and SIL went and rented a machine and fixed it themselves. I was very impressed. Relieved to only have waited 24 hours to resolve the issue. Memories!

Christmas Day was hard. I missed my Cathy and Panda and Sheldon the cat. Just wasn’t the same. It was Ellie’s first Christmas. She doesn’t like paper. She doesn’t like commotion. She likes to create it but not live in it. She loved her toys, only after they were unwrapped for her. She preferred Jaxon’s cat toys. She was much happier when things quieted down. Oliver too is the same as her. He has never liked the commotion, and he has never liked paper. Trash bags too, Ellie hates those. She did give lots of hugs and kisses though and did brighten my day, as usual.

No big New Year’s Eve plans here. I made lasagne. Took me four hours. What a nightmare. Thought I had all the spices and whilst making the lasagne meat sauce found out I didn’t have two spices. Mr. Skippy went off to the store to get them. While he was gone….noticed two more spices I didn’t have. So, I thought why not improvise. So, I threw in Italian seasoning. We shall see how this lasagne turns out. I think after supper we will play a few games of charades. We played on Christmas Day and had so much fun. We are so blessed that our daughter and SIL live with us. We always have entertainment. They are so much fun. We are blessed indeed.

Well, just wanted to update you all. You are not forgotten. I carry you all in my heart, always. I am praying that each and every one of you have the most wonderful New Years Eve. May 2025 bring you all lots of laughter, love and good health. Mostly I pray you feel God’s loving presence, on good days and bad. I send you all hugs and love.

God Bless you and yours. 🙏🏻❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

[helloalycia]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐎 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐘 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐃

summary: after you hear about Lucy Gray's breakup, you wonder if you'll finally have a chance with her. Of course, your father, the head peacekeeper, can never know you like the 'troublemaker' from the Covey.

warning/s: none i don't think?

author's note: okay so after a million years i finally got this one written, an idea that came to me like a week ago and took forever to write because life lol. I hope you all like it anyway, it’s a three parter and was fun to write :)

something to note - Y/BF/N = your best friend's name and Y/D/N = your dad's name

two / three / masterlist / wattpad

"...and I told him that he shouldn't say stuff he doesn't mean, especially when it's just plain old rude, but of course he didn't care..."

I hummed, nodding along as my best friend, Y/BF/N, rambled about an encounter she'd had with one of her neighbours, but I was also glancing around the hallway casually. It was the end of the school day and I was waiting for Y/BF/N to collect her books from her locker so we could go, but she easily got distracted.

Apparently so did I though, as my eyes fell upon Lucy Gray Baird, a talented musician and outsider in my grade, part of a group called the Covey that everyone either tended to avoid or fell in love with for their musical charm. I always found her fascinating, beautiful, as many others did, but she had a boyfriend which pretty much meant there was no chance there. Still, it didn't hurt to admire her.

She was talking to another member of the Covey, Tam Amber, when she accidentally walked into none other than the mayor's daughter, Mayfair Lipp. It wouldn't have mattered so much if there wasn't a clear tension between both girls.

"If only you could open your eyes like you open your damn mouth," Mayfair snapped at her, making passers-by glance their way, listening in.

"Was an accident," was all Lucy Gray said, and she didn't seem very apologetic.

Mayfair scoffed. "'Course it was. A lot of things with you seem to be, don't they?"

Lucy Gray rolled her eyes as Tam Amber tugged her away, the two girls going their separate ways. Y/BF/N, who had stopped talking to observe the argument with everyone else, tried to stifle her laughter.

"Wow, their hatred for each other does not seem to be going away, does it?" she commented to me.

"Do you know why they don't like each other?" I asked, curious.

Y/BF/N shrugged, closing her locker. "Mayfair's jealous, I think. Dunno why, since she's literally the mayor's daughter and the Covey are just a bunch of weirdos singing for their supper."

"They aren't weird," I corrected her as we walked outside. "They're talented. A little different, is all."

"Same thing," Y/BF/N mumbled. "Don't go saying that to your dad. You know how he feels about them."

I tried not to laugh. "He feels like that about anything fun."

Y/BF/N cracked a smile, before chuckling. "Very true."

My father was the head peacekeeper of our district, a very strict man who was a little too overprotective for my liking. Don't get me wrong, I was grateful for the hard work he put in which meant I could live in the nice part of town and never struggle to have a meal on the table. That was something not everyone in District 12 could count on. But it also meant he hated anything that wasn't to his standard.

He had high hopes for me, hoping I'd land a rare but possible job in the Justice Building when I finished school. It wasn't too far fetched considering I was a straight A student. But he also thought I was a goody two shoes who followed the rules – oh, how that couldn't have been far from the truth. If he ever found out how I snuck out at night to visit the Hob and flirt with most of his unit, I was certain he'd have a heart attack.

Being the head peacekeeper's daughter meant that it was out of my hands when he had to attend something important and I, too, had to be present. For example, today was Mayfair's birthday and the mayor had thrown a formal affair in her honour, of which my family had been invited to.

I tolerated Mayfair, but despite our similar stance in society, we didn't share anything else in common. She was too snarky and easily irritated and always killed the mood, so I remained polite with her and that was it. Her party was as boring as she was, full of the mayor's friends, the odd Capitol resident from her dad's circle, and their kids whom I wasn't sure Mayfair even spoke to. If she had any real friends, they weren't here.

Her home was pretty big, for a District 12 house anyway, which made sense since the mayor was the richest in the district, though poor by any other Panem standard. I kept to myself during her celebrations, occasionally chatting with my mum and her friends or picking at the snacks table. That was until a special performance, dedicated solely to Mayfair from her father himself, was announced. An amused grin fell on my lips when I saw who it was.

The Covey.

"Ladies an' gentlemen, how are we feelin' this afternoon?!" Lucy Gray said into her mic at the front of the space cleared in the huge dining room.

Everybody began to clap as I saw the mayor tugging his daughter to the left of the makeshift stage. To say she was angry was an understatement. But if Lucy Gray had any qualms with the arrangement, she didn't let it show.

"This one's for the birthday girl," Lucy Gray continued, smiling widely at the glaring girl in question. "Happy birthday, dear Mayfair."

After the count of three, the Covey were plucking their strings, banging their drums and joining together in a melodious rendition of 'Happy Birthday', and I tried very hard not to laugh as Mayfair was forced to endure it all. To be fair, the Covey were great, and when they performed several songs after that, half the party were cheering them on, either drunk or genuinely amazed by their talent.

Once they'd finished performing for a moment and took a break, Mayfair stormed off with her father in tow, who was attempting not to draw attention to the mishap with his party guests. Again, I couldn't help but stifle my laughter at the turn of events.

Lucy Gray caught my eyes again though, as she was approaching the snacks table I was sat at the edge of, in search of something.

"You guys performed great out there," I said to her when she was close enough, and she glanced up at me, before recognition flashed across her face and she began to smile.

"Why thank you."

"Bet you loved the gig," I said lightheartedly, and it took her a moment to realise what I was implying when she began to laugh.

"It wasn't ideal," she said in a low yet amused voice, "but a job's a job. And technically Mayfair's daddy hired us, not her."

I chuckled to myself. "Hey, it was pretty funny to witness. I'm not complaining."

She shot me a disapproving look as she tossed a grape into her mouth, but a playful smile was breaking out on her lips.

"I didn't know you and Mayfair were so close," she said with intrigue, flipping the conversation to me.

"We're not," I corrected. "Kind of a package deal when my dad's invited to these things. But your performance certainly made this whole thing worth it."

She began to smile, cheeks turning pink slightly. "You've seen our performances enough times now. You ain't sick of me yet?"

I gasped sarcastically. "Lucy Gray, I could never be sick of you. What nonsense are you talkin' about?"

Her smile widened with amusement, before her eyes flickered behind me. "Your daddy's coming. I should go. Wouldn't want him to find out about your sneakin' out and blame it on me."

"As far as he knows, you're a stranger," I played along with a teasing wink, before straightening up and turning around to face my dad.

I heard Lucy Gray walking away behind me just in time for my dad to smile down at me.

"Y/N, how are you enjoying the party?" he asked.

I smiled innocently. "It's great, dad, thanks for bringing me."

He nodded. "Good, I'm glad."

I glanced over my shoulder as he began to talk about what the mayor was saying to him earlier, searching for the Covey girl. Then I spotted her, talking to her family across the room and also shooting me a glance, her cheeky smile on her lips, mirroring mine.

A little flirting didn't hurt anybody, right?

With my father's job came many responsibilities that meant he had a lot of late nights at their base camp, including the weekend when I sneaked out the house to meet Y/BF/N at the Hob and have some fun. It was difficult at first, making sure I timed it right so my mum would be asleep when I left and also generally sneaking downstairs and out the back door. But the more I did it, the easier it became, and soon enough it was second nature.

By the time I reached the Hob tonight, everything was in full swing. The Covey were performing as usual and everybody was up and dancing. I found Y/BF/N at a table, flirting with some boys from our grade. It didn't take long for me to join them, and between the two of us, we landed free drinks just because we played our cards right.

It was so freeing at the Hob, not having to worry about my dad breathing down my neck or about being such a goody two shoes in his eyes. No, here I could do whatever I wanted. The night was always young and nobody could stop me from having fun.

I found myself dancing around with a peacekeeper, Terrence, who had finished his shift for the day and always happened to be around when I did. He'd been flirting for a while and it was easy to play along, have a little fun.

"It's too bad I can't be lookin' for a wife," he said with a boyish grin as he spun me around. "You'd be my first choice."

I tried not to laugh as I wrapped my arms around his neck. "Yeah, that's too bad for you."

"Your dad would kill me if he knew what I was doing," he said, leaning in close for a kiss.

But I tilted his head and pressed one to his cheek instead, before saying in his ear, "Good thing he won't ever find out, right?"

He snorted. "Right."

I smiled contently, before letting him spin me around some more. It was always so easy to do what I wanted here without the fear of it getting back to my father because either everyone was scared of him and what power he held, or they knew it was my word against theirs and my father would never believe them. Besides, I was doing no harm. Some people just wanted a dance and a little flirting, which was exactly what I gave them. What was the big deal?

After finishing my dance with Terrence, I joined Y/BF/N's side again, grabbing her hands and pulling her onto the dancefloor for one final dance for the evening. She laughed, letting me, and we began to chat as we swung about gently.

"How was your dance with Terrence?" she asked with amusement. "You still leadin' the poor boy on?"

"It's not leading him on if he knows it's just a dance," I reminded her. "Besides, it can never happen. He's in my dad's unit. And I don't even like him like that."

"You just flirt with him for fun," she said sarcastically, but I grinned anyway.

"Duh."

Laughing again, she let me spin her around, and then my eyes found sight of Lucy Gray beside the stage. She was talking to her boyfriend, Billy Taupe, the two of them looking awfully cosy with one another. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, knowing it was just an irrational jealousy, nothing more. I'd never even hinted that I'd liked her, and she'd been taken for a while now, but it was easy to wonder what if.

"You're staring," Y/BF/N noticed, before following my gaze. "Ooh, Y/N, you've gotta let that one go. She's trouble, I heard."

"I didn't even say anything," I defended myself.

"You don't need to," she said knowingly. "Your face says it all. And I'm warning you now. It's not worth it."

I rolled my eyes lightheartedly. "Yeah, yeah, just keep dancing, idiot."

She stifled a chuckle and we got back to it, but not without me stealing one last lingering glance at Lucy Gray.

Of course, after that evening, news of her and Billy Taupe travelled all around school. Rumour had it that he'd cheated on her with Mayfair and, as a result, they'd broken up. Of course it was horrible to hear, but admittedly, the first thing I wondered was did I finally have a chance?

Almost two weeks after hearing the news of Lucy Gray's breakup, I was at the Hob again. I'd been watching the Covey perform all evening, though this time without Billy Taupe who was permanently out of the band it seemed. I'd been waiting for Lucy Gray to be free so I could attempt to make a move.

And after what felt like forever, she finally took to the bar to have some water, and I sucked up a breath before approaching her with a skip in my step.

"Lucy Gray," I started with a smile, earning her attention. "You okay?"

She took a sip before nodding at me. "Yeah, just havin' a break."

"Just a break from singing, right?" I asked, making her quirk a brow. I continued, "Because I'd love to ask you to dance."

A smile grew on her lips, matching the sparkle in her eyes. "I've seen you around, Y/L/N. You probably ask everyone that, don't you?"

I resisted the urge to laugh. "Without sounding big headed, they ask me. So, no, not everyone. Just you. I'd like to dance with you, if you'll have me."

She pursed her lips, eyes flickering between mine considerately and in a way that purposely left me waiting, hoping she'd say yes. Finally, she sighed lightheartedly. "Well, I suppose if you'd like it, who am I to decline?"

My smile widened as I put out my hand and she gladly accepted. The rest of the Covey were playing a song slow enough to have us swaying to the melody, joining the other dancers on the floor.

"You're pretty good at this," Lucy Gray mumbled with amusement, hands wrapped around my shoulders and her head looking over it so I couldn't see her expression.

"Can't be stepping on your toes now, can I?" I said quietly, as to not interrupt the momentary peace that had washed over the Hob. "What sort of impression would that make?"

She snickered. "And why would you be tryin' to make any impression, darlin'? It's just a dance, ain't it?"

A smile crept on my lips. "That it is. But you never know."

She pulled back for a moment, honey-coloured eyes glancing between mine as if trying to decipher my words. I thought I was pretty straightforward, but she clearly didn't agree. Finally, her smile mirrored mine and she leaned her head on my shoulder as we swayed to the song.

It was only a few minutes long, of which, despite my apparent calmness, I was a little nervous to be dancing with such a beautiful girl. I hoped she couldn't feel my heart racing between us. It certainly didn't help when she began to hum lowly, clearly knowing the words to Maude Ivory's ballad, and the deep reverberation of her humming echoed in my ear.

When the song came to an end, everybody parted and applauded the band for their song. Meanwhile, Lucy Gray pulled apart, hands moving from my shoulders and to my hands, squeezing them gently.

"Thanks for the dance," I said to her with a suppressed smile.

"Thanks for askin'," she replied.

My smile was permanently fixed on my face as I watched her walk away, back to the stage for her next number. It wasn't until Y/BF/N appeared out of nowhere, patting me on the back, that I was pulled from my Lucy Gray-induced stupor.

"Someone's crushing," she teased, and I simply ignored her as I glanced back at the brunette onstage.

I was lucky she was giving me a chance at all.

After that initial dance, it became almost tradition to dance with her every time I could, and she always accepted, for some reason giving me the time of day. Visiting the Hob had a new, exciting meaning now, and not just to have some fun fooling around.

Getting to know her more, hearing her talk about her love of performing or something that happened to her that day, meant we were growing closer. Not quite friends, but not anything less either. We'd see each other around school and greet each other, or she'd walk past me in the markets and flash me a smile. Y/BF/N thought I was insane to like her, but I couldn't help it.

A few weeks after that initial dance, she was rambling about some frustrating things before her show, including her shoes not tying quite right, or the step on the stage being a little dodgy and making everyone trip up. One of her complaints was about her red lipstick, which had officially ran out and was her favourite one to wear for performing. Lipstick and makeup in general were rare finds, and she must have searched around a lot to get it, but now she couldn't replace it, not for a while anyway, and it was upsetting her more than she let on.

I couldn't help it, of course. I had to rectify the issue. So, I found a way to trade some meaningless things at the markets in exchange for a red lipstick, one that looked fresh from the Capitol and that I knew Lucy Gray would love. Later that evening, after sneaking out of my house, I headed straight for the garage behind the Hob that the Covey had claimed, where they prepared for their shows.

When I entered, everybody was doing different things, from tuning their instruments to fixing their hair.

"Lucy Gray, Y/N's here!" someone shouted in a teasing voice, and I didn't get chance to see who as Lucy Gray suddenly appeared, stealing my attention.

"Hey, darlin', what're you doing here?" she asked with a bright smile, looking as beautiful as ever.

"Just wanted to wish you luck," I told her, returning her smile. "And of course, bring you a little something."

Her dark brows knitted together above confused eyes, and I took the lipstick from my jacket pocket before holding it out to her.

"You were saying how you felt weird performing without it," I explained as she curiously took it to inspect it, "so I got you another one. Can't have the iconic Lucy Gray without her iconic red lipstick, can we?"

An amazed smile grew on her lips as she looked at the colour, and I couldn't stop looking at her.

"Y/N, this... how did you get this?" she asked with a laugh, meeting my gaze.

I shrugged, and she rolled her eyes before hugging me.

"Thank you so much," she said gratefully, pulling back to grin at me. "I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything, just wear it," I said.

She laughed again before going up to the mirror hung on the wall, applying the lipstick as she always did before  every show. And when she turned around, I knew I'd made the right choice. As always, she stole my breath away.

"You look beautiful," I told her truthfully. "But you always do."

The pink tingeing her cheeks was contrasted to the deep red of her lips, but she remained confident as she stepped towards me knowingly.

"There's only one way to truly test it," she said, and I didn't get chance to ask what she meant before she pressed a slow but firm kiss on my cheek.

I was dumbstruck, not expecting that at all, and she pulled back with a satisfied smile. Her hand ghosted my cheek, thumb rubbing gently on the inevitable lipstick stain on my face.

"I'll see you out there," she said, dropping her hand but not her smile. "Thanks again, Y/N."

Still reeling at the sensation of her lips on my cheek, I couldn't find the words to reply. She laughed before returning to the Covey, and somehow I found myself walking to the Hob to sit with Y/BF/N. As soon as she spotted the lipstick on my cheek, the laughing and teasing began, but it didn't mean much when Lucy Gray walked out onstage, her matching red-painted lips curved into a grin.

It was easy to fall quicker and harder for Lucy Gray after that, so much in fact that the only thing I wanted to do was kiss her for real.

No matter how much time we spent together, the shameless flirting and banter wasn't enough. I didn't want to be platonic, I wanted more, and I was sure she might have wanted it too.

One evening at the Hob, we were both sat at the bar chatting. Well, she was chatting and I was very much distracted by the sharp curve of her jaw and the curly ringlets of hair that kept spilling into her eyes and the way her mouth moved with each word she spoke and–

"You're not listenin', are you?" she asked lightheartedly, humoured smirk on her lips, matching the quirk of her brow.

That seemed to be the final straw for me, and I couldn't help but lean in, kissing her. Only as I did it did I realise the insanity of my actions, the carelessness, and I pulled away just as quickly. Before I could even scold myself for acting so recklessly, endless apologies on the tip of my tongue, something caught my eye from behind her.

My eyes widened when I recognised the person who had just walked into the Hob. It was my father, the head peacekeeper who hated coming in here because he believed it was a distraction and a bad influence. He was here, and he'd just walked in with some of his peacekeeper friends.

And I was sat in here, a little too close to a girl he also deemed a bad influence. Oh, shit.

"My dad," was all I could get out, before I forgot everything that had happened with Lucy Gray and immediately threw myself over the bar, hiding behind it.

"What are you doin'?!" Lucy Gray leaned over, looking down at me with a puzzled expression.

I couldn't have hunkered down anymore if I tried. "Dad. Doorway. Now!" I whisper-shouted, as if he'd suddenly hear me from all the way across the room.

She must have looked and recognised him as her shadow disappeared and she was no longer trying to talk to me. As I formulated a plan to escape, hoping the full house and loud music would be the perfect distraction, I heard a familiar voice nearing.

"Commander Y/L/N!" Lucy Gray exclaimed loudly, and my heart sank at the possibility of getting caught. "Hi!"

He hesitated, before responding, quite literally just above me. "Lucy Gray, right? The Covey. You performed at Mayfair's birthday a couple of months ago."

I could practically picture the grin on her face as she answered enthusiastically, "The one an' only!"

Sounding a little more laid back than usual, he said, "It was an excellent performance."

"Why, thank you, sir," she replied kindly.

It was quiet between them for a moment, as he ordered a drink with the bartender who thankfully seemed to understand why I was hiding right next to his feet, but he mustn't have left afterwards, as Lucy Gray spoke up.

"Oh, they'll bring your drinks to your table, sir."

"It's fine, I'll wait," he said dismissively, and Lucy Gray merely hummed in response, but I didn't hear her leave.

My heart was racing as I didn't dare move a muscle. My father was stood right next to me, only a bar between us, and I was sure he'd kill me if he knew I was here. Why the hell was he even here?! This was so unlike him!

But no, I couldn't think about that right now. I could only focus on leaving before he discovered my presence.

"So, are you performing here?" my dad asked Lucy Gray in an awkward attempt at filling the silence. He was never good at small talk.

"Uh-huh," she responded just as awkwardly, and I appreciated that, despite my previous mistake with her, she was still willing to keep my secret.

"Nice," was all he said. "I look forward to it. The officers say you're really good."

She didn't reply, must have smiled or nodded or something, because the conversation ended and I was back to hearing the blood rushing in my ears.

After what felt like forever, I heard the bartender serve my dad his drink, and then the latter wished Lucy Gray a good evening before leaving. I didn't dare move, not until I was certain, but Lucy Gray banged the top of the bar to get my attention.

"He's on the other side talking to some officers," she assured me.

"I need to leave out the back," I said, not showing my head just yet. "He'll kill me."

"Okay, just wait," she instructed, and I did just that until I realised she had rounded the bar and was holding her hand out to me. "Come on."

Accepting her hand, I let her keep a look out before she dragged me through the back and out the door, away from my father's prying eyes.

A sigh of relief escaped me as I was in the clear, and Lucy Gray was laughing at my expense.

"That was close," she said between laughter, glancing back as the door closed behind us.

Straightening up, I nodded in agreement. "It was. Thanks for the assist."

She settled on an amused smile before her eyes met mine and her expression softened. "You know, you were in the middle of somethin' back there."

And just like that, the mortifying realisation of kissing her returned to memory, and I was instantly about to apologise.

"Yeah, I–"

She cut me off with a kiss, just as abrupt as mine, but unlike me, she didn't pull away, and I was left to melt into her lips, savouring the warmth of her skin pressed to mine. Her hand cupped my cheek, fingertips pressing down gently, and I sighed into her lips as she began to pull away for air.

"That was... unexpected," I muttered, lips still tingling.

She tried not to laugh. "As unexpected as you kissin' me before?"

I exhaled, slightly embarassed, and she licked her lips before taking my hand and squeezing it gently.

"You should probably head home before your daddy finds you out here," she said, a hint of humour in her voice.

"Home, right," I agreed, before meeting her eyes. "I'll see you at school tomorrow?"

She grinned. "See you then."

I smiled softly before kissing her hand and leaving. It was safe to say I couldn't sleep the rest of the night, my only thoughts of the curly-haired Covey girl who'd stolen my heart.

[cher-rei]

afterglow pt- 11 [ T.A.A ]

pairings: trent alexander arnold x fem!reader

summary: young and aspiring marketing and business major jamie carter (you) is privileged with working alongside the liverpool marketing and public relations team while also getting entangled with their star player and right back, trent alexander arnold.

genre(s): friends to lovers, fluff, slowish?? burn

[wc: 4.2k] [part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 12]

notes: so many things are happening at once, I kid you not.

“that reminds me.” you snapped your fingers in realisation. “are you free this weekend? I wanted us to go to the planetarium.”

clara who was sat opposite you on the couch at the axa training lounge hummed in thought, despite her already knowing the answer. “unfortunately not. I have family coming over.”

you dropped your phone into your lap with a groan at the familiar answer. this was the third time in a month that she's been unable to hang out. “dude are you serious? are you ditching me because you're like secretly a spy or something.”

your retort made her laugh, but she shook her head. you couldn't deny that it made you feel slightly upset that clara has been busy whenever you wanted to hangout, and there was a flicker in your mind wondering if she was being serious or just didn't want to be around you too much.

you continued to scroll aimlessly through your phone while clara watched with a somber look. “why don't you invite you know who over?”

without saying anything you simply looked at her, the look in your eyes being enough of a tell tale of how you felt about that. trent had been over at your apartment nearly everyday for the past week— not that you were complaining of course. over the course of the week, you'd gotten closer than you expected.

it's not like either of you had anything better to do, so your afternoons after work consisted of making supper, for two instead of just yourself, and lounging around just for the fun of it. however, this week he'd be busy with his physio and you didn't want to interrupt that part of his routine.

so you started to mentally plan out your weekend which you'd be spending alone. “how do you feel about mason mount by the way?”

the question was out of the blue, seeing as you just saw an edit of the footballer on your for you page and it got you thinking. you and maya had talked about it before, she liked to call it “the downfall of mason mount”. at some point, there was a bit of delusion in you that believed that chelsea would take him back.

something flickered in clara's eyes, and she visibly stiffened for a moment. what do you--” she tucked a loose strand of her behind her ear and cleared her throat. “--what do you mean? I feel normal about him, yeah like the normal amount.”

your face scrunched at her answer. “okay? but what do you think about him?”

once again, she began rambling and you wondered if she was even understanding the words coming from her mouth.

“what's that supposed to mean?” she laughed, but the awkwardness didn't go unnoticed. “It's not like I know the guy.”

that wasn't what you meant at all but clara misunderstood entirely. your gaze traveled to her hands that was fidgeting with the hem of her shirt but you pushed the thought to the side. with a sigh you nodded slowly. “uhm, okay then. world cup mason was an era though, ugh take me back.”

“yeah, the best,” clara trailed off and all you could was stare at her blankly, your lips slightly parted in confusion.

the day came to an end quickly, so when you finished up answering the last of your emails and going over the footage of the new ‘up the reds!’ episode, you called it a day and dashed straight to your car.

seeing as it was friday, you didn't need anything and took the liberty of hopping straight into the shower when you got home. of course, you were tackled by a very excited honey on your way in and gave her the necessary attention for a bit.

“hm, we can definitely take a run tomorrow,” you said and gave honey a quick kiss on her head.

you ran yourself a hot relaxing bath and decided to treat this as a self care weekend. it was a peaceful evening which was just what you needed to unwind from the last few weeks of work and confused feelings. when you got out of the bath, you stayed in your towel for a bit and began prepping your supper.

when you finished up with your skincare and got into your pajamas all you needed to do was finish up with your supper. you had the music blasting from your living room, your taylor swift playlist being as bipolar as ever.

spamjam._.

liked by fía.messi and 1 324 223 others

spamjam._. weekend reset🌙

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fía.messi smash. [liked by spamjam._.]

no.elle look at honey 😭 [liked by spamjam._.]

→ spamjam._. uhm hello??? girl where have you been??

→ no.elle studying 😭 but I'm back now!!

→ spamjam._. studying for 4 years straight 😃 you left me for germany!

→ no.elle. shut up you're making me sound like a horrible person!

→ spamjam._. I'm gonna need a very long explanation then, my dms are open bb xx

saffiekahn woah there, second pic 🤭 [liked by spamjam._.]

→ curtisjr ??? literally what

→ saffiekahn don't worry about it hun xx

you sung and danced along to your shuffled playlist in the kitchen while plating your food. and by the time you were finished, your phone started to ring. the music was quickly paused and you answered the video call with an excited smile.

“I saw your instagram post and I felt the need to rush over immediately,” sofía said from the other end if the line.

a laugh ticked at your throat as you set your phone up and sat at the bar stool while you ate. “how are you holding up?”

a heavy sigh left your friend's mouth and she went off camera for a moment to shut her room door. “I'm okay. but I'm not the one recovering from an acl injury anymore.”

a frown formed on your face at her answer and you realised who she was referring to. “I can't imagine how he must be feeling right now.” you picked at your food for a moment. “but it was nice of you to offer to help him you know?”

sofía smiled, and made herself comfortable under her blanket. “pablo's strong, he’s just a little lost right now.” there was a hint of hurt in her voice as she thought back to the day that gavi tore his acl, recalling just how her stomach dropped when she got the call from his mother.

“and he means a lot to me so I want to be with him right now. jamie you should've seen the look in his eyes when I got to the hospital.”

sure you weren't there but you saw the videos and could account for the pain in his eyes as he limped off the pitch. an acl injury was no joke either, so this was really a tell tale of how much sofía truly cared for him even if she was always complaining about him.

the two of you continued to chat for a bit, catching up since so much had happened since you last saw each other at the last clasíco. “and how are you and trent?”

sofía's question made you cringe. “don't go quiet on me now, I know that somethings up.”

yes something was up. but you weren't sure what it was. “uhm, i think it's going somewhere. it's still too early too tell though, but moves are being made.”

on the other end of the line sofía sighed in relief, causing you to roll your eyes. “and I thank clara for that.”

the following day, you started your morning off with a some fruit oatmeal and coffee before changing into a pair of leggings, a tank top and a zip up hoodie to throw over for your walk with honey.

the weather was a bit chilly despite the sun beating down on you. you and honey took a trip to the park and played around for a while, got some coffee and then went back home. after your shower, you fed honey and got yourself something to eat and sat down to do some work.

you checked the team's schedule for the rest of the month and made notes for filming days and photoshoots, as well as the football match that you and trent had agreed upon a while ago. it was going to be a charity match, which you'd be organising and setting up.

then there was the efl cup final at the end of february as well. the next few months were going to be hell and you could feel it creeping up already. you packed up your work things at about 12:45 and decided to watch some t.v for a bit.

with honey in your lap and the t.v playing in the background you scrolled through your socials when something popped up on your feed. your jaw dropped at clara's post.

clarashaw

liked by maya.carter and 98 234 others

clarashaw weekend with my babies 💌

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you didn't know whether to call her or wait it out. she lied to you about having family over, but you weren't even mad. heck she had a boyfriend!

honey squirmed in your lap and you soothed her back to sleep. “your aunt is a liar. but we'll call her tomorrow so she can enjoy her little date weekend.”

“guess who's back?” you joked and waved at your viewers through the camera.

it had been so long since you last streamed, and you missed it. even if you were just here to chat for a few hours, you felt the need to catch up with your fan base who were more than delighted to have you back.

“how is everyone doing? it’s been so long since we've done this.” your eyes ran along the comments on your monitor, when one caught your eye. you hurriedly hopped off your chair and left the room, coming back with honey in your arms.

the live chat started flooding with comment on how cute she was. the puppy in your arms wagged her rail in excitement as she saw herself on the monitor. “this is an official introduction. trent was the first of everyone to see her, and I took her to work the other day where she was treated like a celebrity by the way.”

you spoke to your viewers about how work had been so far, and how you had the opportunity to meet so many people. everyone already knew about sofía, but there was one person that was more recent.

“okay, so we can play a little game,” you said with a cheeky smile. “I'll give you guys a hint, she's the wag of someone who's club we played recently.”

immediately your chat was flooding with names of every wag to date, which had you rolling your head back in laughter. after a while you gave them one last hint— she was someone that you mentioned on stream a very long time ago, and that you described her as “a gift from the heavens”.

from that, the correct answer came in. “yes!! sophia weber!!”

you put your hand to your heart at the remembrance of your meeting at the emirates stadium the week before. you were coming down from the press table when you bumped into her. she flashed you the most breathtaking smile and you felt your knees go weak, fumbling over your words as you tried to apologise.

“and the best part is that she knew who I was!” you gawked. “like who even am I? I'm no one and she knew my name! and said that she'd like me to sit with her the next time we play arsenal.”

the topic then changed to the lastest television drama as you shared recommendations for shows and movies.

“firstly I think they did a great jo–” you were interrupted by your phone buzzing on your table. with a smile you answered seeing that it was jobe, probably calling to check up with you.

“hi, my angel what's up? you're on speaker by the way,” you answered and he went silent for a moment, not having registered that you were streaming.

when he got the message he greeted the stream as well, followed by a bashful laugh. “I called to check up on you. you know, to see if you're alive and all.”

the sound of jobe's voice made you smile. “oh, so you didn't call because you missed me?”

a scoff echoed through the other end of the line. “me? miss you? never in a million years.”

you hummed and played along with his antics, clearly he didn't want to be embarrassed. suddenly you recalled the fiasco from earlier on in the week when trent came over. “also can you please explain how you blocked me from our netflix account to everyone? I'd really appreciate a full explanation.”

jobe burst into a fit of laughter at that, and you sat patiently and waited for an explanation. you, jobe and jude shared a netflix account and have for years, and when you tried to log in the other evening after trent left, the password was wrong.

“it wasn't me though! jude changed the password, I didn't even know I swear,” he defended himself by shamelessly throwing his older brother under the bus.

you shook your head and looked at your camera. “I'm the one paying for the account by the way.” you paused at the sound of his resounding laughter through the speaker. “not the two professional footballers.”

“I'm like 99% sure that you make more money than I do.”

the call didn't last long after that, but you appreciated the call. you hung up after wishing him luck for his match the following day, waiting until he said that he loved you to fully end the call.

the weekend was finally coming to an end. and that meant one thing— clara was about to get beat up (obviously that was an exaggeration). it was after lunch that you called her, but you stayed silent on the line for a good few minutes to emphasise your feeling of betrayal.

you were in the kitchen when the sound of the front door opening rung through your apartment, as well as honey’s excited barking. that was a clear indication that trent was here so you weren't worried.

clara was rambling on about explaining herself when you felt the presence of someone behind you, his hands resting on your sides to tickle you but you fought him off with a stern look.

“I'm not mad that you have a boyfriend, I'm just confused that you lied to me,” you said honestly which caught trent's interest.

he watched with curious eyes as you took a seat on the island and stood opposite you, waiting for an explanation. to this you raised your hand, telling him to hold while you got the full story.

trent was impatient as he listened to you talk to clara, having no clue what was being said from her side. all he got was that she had a boyfriend and that you might know him.

you sighed at clara's words. “yeah but what was the big de– you're what???!”

both honey and trent jolted at the sound of your scream. the look of utter shock in your eyes told trent that this was groundbreaking information and he needed to know. he'd been silent for long enough, his curiosity was eating him up.

this was when you got off the counter and began pacing the kitchen, with him following after you like a lost puppy. he tried to get you attention but you waved him off every single time.

you stood with your hands in your hips. “how long have you known? were you surprised? you'be been engaged for how long?? clara you've been screwing the enemy for 4 years!?”

trent's mouth fell agape, and he couldn't help himself. “screwing the enemy??”

your hand flew to cover trent's mouth, because clara didn't know that he was there until he decided to speak up. you tried to divert the conversation again and shot the footballer a look but all he could do was focus on the lack of space between the two of you.

your body was pressed up against his, so he took the liberty of snaking his arms around your waist and to his surprise you didn't mind. you were barely focused on him at all, which wasn't ideal but he loved the proximity.

then you heard a voice in the background of clara's and you couldn't help yourself. “that's him isn't it? don't lie to me clara, put me on speaker right now.”

after a bit of reluctance she obliged and you did the same, earning a smile of victory from trent who was listening intently until the sound of the familiar male voice.

“hi mason, it's jamie,” you greeted in your nicest voice possible, fighting back the laugh in your throat because of trent's look of disbelief and confusion.

“jude's friend jamie?” he asked clara and she nodded, causing him to smile. “yeah, I remember we met a while ago during the world cup. how are you?”

you pursed your lips at his question. you couldn't be mad at him like this, he was being too nice. “I'm doing great. I should be asking you since you're going to be a father.”

“clara’s pregnant?!”

you slapped trent on the chest but he couldn't stay quiet any longer. your friend om the other hand was more than upset.

“you said that trent wasn't there,” she argued but you were just as fed up and argued back with a scoff.

“yeah and you told me that you had family coming over.”

it was mason's turn to speak during the unfortunate encounter. he was so oblivious to what was going on, and you could hear the excitement in his voice when he realised that trent was there, seeing as they were friends and called out to him just to check.

you gave trent a look, gesturing for him to answer. he cleared his throat and said hi. “hi mate, it's been a while. how are you holding up?”

the conversation didn't last too long and after a mutual agreement clara ended the call. you looked at your screen with a groan, this was not what you had expected at all. absentmindedly, you rested your head on trent's chest, trying to process what had just happened.

it came as such a shock to you, and by trent’s confused rambling he was having a hard time comprehending it too.

“so clara is getting married and she's pregnant,” he repeated to make sense of all the information. “and it's mason mount, who's also the father and they've been together for 4 years and nobody knew at all.”

the only question you had at the moment was why everyone was either getting married or pregnant. what happened to taking it slow? them again you had no right to speak seeing as you weren't even sure if you were ever going to make it that far.

“what are you doing here by the way?” you llifted your head to look up at trent, who merely shrugged. it only dawned on you then that his hands were resting on your waist which caused you tense up.

the pit in your stomach grew and you tried your best to seem as casual as possible. he must've noticed because he was eager to break the silent tension and told you about his physio assessment as he limped over to the couch. the lack of warmth on your wasit was harsh, almost foreign even though it wasn't something that's happened between the two of you before this.

the past two weeks had been a blur regarding your relationship. it was more than obvious by now that there was something going on, but neither of you addressed the topic. a few days ago you called maya to ask her for advice and she said that he was probably waiting for the right time.

which made sense. things always seemed to get messy whenever the two of you got closer, for example, skylar showing up, the recent speculation of him having a girlfriend (who wasn't you), and now his injury. only this time, you weren't planning on backing away and were prepared to stay until it was clear that you had no chance with him.

the rest of the month flew by without any further issues. the team was performing well, trent's recovery was going great and you officially met mason and absolutely melted at him and clara's relationship.

you joined them at clara's house not too long after the call you had with her, and needless to say, you were extremely happy for her. there wasn't a couple that you've met that smiled at each other more than they did. you could practically feel the love and adoration floating through the air when you were around them.

then something else shifted.

you knew something was up when a meeting was called after work hours that friday. but you couldn't think of any issue so you went in with little care, ans sat down at the table beside clara as per usual. it was when you scanned the room that you realised it was just the media team in the room and not the coaching staff as well.

just as you were about to bring it up with clara, jurgen walked into the room with a lopsided smile. he shut the door behind him carefully and took his spot in front, preferring to stand instead of taking a seat.

“good afternoon everyone, I'm sorry for keeping you all after hours but I just finished talking to the boys,” he apologised which had you questioning.

he continued on but it took him a while to get to the point, but eventually he made eye contact with you and smiled but it was somber. the usual excitement wasny present in his eyes, so you sat up in your chair and waited.

“I will be retiring as the team's manager at the end of the season.”

you wanted to throw up, hoping that this was just some sick joke for april fools but the issue was that it wasn't april. the room broke out into mummers and questions for jurgen who looked as if he wasn't taking the news well himself.

he tried to keep it as short as possible, and proposed the idea of content being pushed out as well as a formal announcement video by the end of the month– which was in five days.

the meeting ended after 20 minutes of discussion and more apologies for the late and abrupt news. of course everyone was devastated, and you were literally fighting back tears. then it hit you that the team just got told as well, and all that sadness tripled and hit you like a truck.

there was still three months left of the season, and this could either motivate the boys or ruin everything.

to your surprise jurgen asked you to stay behind for a moment. when the media team finally left, it was just you and your broken heart.

“you know I didn't even feel this broken when I broke up with my ex boyfriend,” you said and shut your eyes to force back the tears daring to escape.

a hearty chuckle echoed through the room and he came to sit next to you. it was silent for a moment again, to give you some time to process the news. “do you know why I make sure that you're so involved with the team?”

you looked at jurgen with furrowed brows at the question, not quite catching on. you agreed that there was a drastic difference between other clubs and their media managers, as opposed to you who showed up to all the matches, travelled with them, stayed during training and got the opportunity to form an actual bond with them.

“because I knew that when I leave, I'll need someone to be a sort of pillar for them.” he hummed and tried to find the correct way to put what he was saying into words. “a new coaching staff will be hired, people who the boys have been with for most of their careers will be gone but I want them to have a familiar face.”

you nodded in understanding. it was difficult for people to leave most of what they know behind and start fresh and grow comfortable with their surroundings so you could account for his reasoning. that didn't mean that any of this would be easier for them though.

“I just need them to feel at home, and you've been doing that exceptionally well from the moment you started working here,” jurgen said and laughed, recalling the early morning that you joined them at the training center.

there was a curious but nervous look in your eyes that day, and just by looking at you then he knew that you'd be a vital part of the team for as long as they stood. and now more than ever, was your role as detrimental as ever and you were determined to make jurgen's departure one that he'll remember.

that evening when you got back to your apartment, you weren't surprised to see your phone blow up with messages from the group chat.