#and replies and asks i want to respond to but the energy is just Absent

[arcanaaa]

~

[bella-goths-wife]

Jealousy at play

James x lost boys daughter, romantic Dimitri x lost boys daughter, father lost boys x daughter reader

Content: a vampiric patron of Dimitri’s bar gets too close to his newest bartender

Warnings: mentions of blood, obsessive behaviour, jealousy, threats of violence

“I still don’t understand why you had to walk me there” you comment with a roll of your eyes as you and Dimitri make your way to his bar, with him lingering slightly behind you to make sure to protect you from any threats from behind

“Because, little bird” Dimitri responds with a playful huff of air “I promised your grandfather that I’d make sure you’d be safe, and a pretty young girl walking alone in the dark on her way to work is definitely not safe”

“I’m not completely helpless y’know” you quip back with a sigh

“I don’t doubt it birdy” he replied with a chuckle “but your sarcastic comments won’t last very long against a supernatural being”

You don’t respond and just glare at his teasing smirk as your arms wrap around yourself to block out the crisp air that you were unfamiliar with after spending your entire life in the humid caves of Santa Carla.

“Cold?” Dimitri asked with an eyebrow piqued in interest

“No” you lie but the wind hits you in that moment and you let out a small shiver

“So you must be shivering from my pure charm then” Dimitri comments with a teasing tone

“I’m just not used to the cold” you say defensively “I’ll get used to it”

“Not before freezing to death you won’t” Dimitri comments with a teasing smile

Before you can make some kind of insulting quip back at him, you feel engulfed by warmth as he puts his suit jacket over your shoulders and lets it cover you

“You can’t-“ your about to protest but Dimitri cuts you off

“What?” He says with a shrug “I’m undead, what’s the cold gonna do to me?”

You just roll your eyes and continue to walk, but you can’t help the small smile that finds your lips.

You absent mindedly play with the necklace around your neck to calm your nervous energy, inadvertently pulling your shirt away from your collar bone slightly and showing a small tattoo off to Dimitri. It was a small bat that laid at the bottom of your collar bone.

“When did you get that done?” Dimitri asks and when you look at him with a confused face, he uses his eyes to motion to your tattoo

“Oh” you say as you subconsciously bring your fingertips to the tattoo and a memory of James holding your hand while you were tattooed forced it’s way into your mind “I got it done when I was fifteen, my ex boyfriends friends owned a tattoo shop and I’d always wanted to get one”

“Bet your dads loved that” Dimitri comments with a small smirk at the thought “what did they do when they found out?”

“Nothing” you answer with a small chuckle “my boyfriend taught me how to care for it and gave me tips on how to keep it hidden, so they never found out”

“And what happened to this boyfriend?” Dimitri asks with a teasing tone before the realisation hits him and his expression morphes into concern that he’s offended you “shit, he’s not dead is he?”

“No he’s not dead” you say in a reassuring tone before letting out a deep sigh and thinking on your next words “we just didn’t work out I guess”

“Did he break your heart?” Dimitri asks intrusively but you don’t seem to care as you nod “did he hurt you?”

“Not physically, he’d never do that” you say with a soft shake of your head “he just tried to keep me in a bad situation and I couldn’t stay just for him, same thing happened with my ex girlfriend, they both just tried to stop me from going into the real work and wanted to keep me in Santa Carla forever”

“Ex boyfriend and ex girlfriend” Dimitri says as he lets out a small whistle, trying to ease the mood as he ruffles your hair playfully “you little player”

“Shut up” you say as your roll your eyes and laugh before beginning to fix your now messed up hair

Dimitri took a moment to just admire you and how you practically glowed under the streetlights of the city and how your laugh sounded like a symphony of angels. You practically looked ethereal under the light of the moon when you smiled.

“We’re here” you point out to a distracted Dimitri as you reach the door of his bar and you wait for him to use his keys to open it up

Dimitri admires you for a few more moments in silence before using his keys to open the door.

“Want me to teach you how to make a Bloody Mary with actual blood?” He asks with a smirk and you just smile and nod in return

———————————————————————

You cringed as you poured the thick substance of blood into a glass for a patron while Dimitri watched on from his seat at the bar with an admiring smile.

You had been working at the bar for a few weeks now and in all honesty, Dimitri had no complaints. You were capable of doing the job with minimal fuss and the smell of your blood attracted vampires from all over the place to come in and have a drink, the fact he got to spend time with you was also a bonus.

But then something made Dimitri frown and his eyes narrow. He watched as a clearly newly turned vampire said something with a suggestive smile and then he only felt his annoyance deepen when he noticed that the comment had made you laugh.

He watched as the vampires eyes looked at you with lust clouded over them, from either your enchanting body or your enchanting blood.

Dimitri called you over once he noticed the vampire beginning to speak again, and you walked over to the other end of the bar to where he had positioned himself.

“You’re running low on type B” Dimitri comments as he gets up and goes behind the bar “why don’t you go get some more from the back and I’ll keep serving our customer?”

You nod as you make your way behind the bar and into the back to where you could reach the cellar. As you do this this, Dimitri turns to the vampiric customer and notices his eyes raking over your figure as you walk away.

“Pretty little thing, isn’t she?” Dimitri comments with what looks like a friendly smirk as he grabs a bottle and refills the man’s drink

“I’ll say” the man says with a crude smile “where did you get one like that?”

“I like to pick up strays, especially pretty ones” Dimitri answers with a smirk “and the smell of her blood, well it’s nothing short of delicious”

“That’s one word for it” the man responds with a laugh “been thinking about talking a bite out of her since I got here”

“That so?” Dimitri asks with a forced smile

“Yeah man, I’d do anything to take a bite out of her” the man says with a crude expression “either her neck or her ass”

“Well, there’s something you’ve got to remember” Dimitri says with a forced laugh

“What’s that?” The man asks curiously

“She’s claimed” Dimitri states as his smile drops and his expression darkens with a protective feeling clouding his chest “so I suggest you pay your tab and leave, unless of course you want me to jump over this bar and rip your throat out with my bare fangs”

The man gulps before nodding and slapping some money on the bar, he then picks his stuff up before taking off practically running out the door.

You returned seconds later as you refilled the empty bottles and looked around.

“Where’d he go?” You ask confused as you look at the empty seat

“Who knows” Dimitri says with a shrug before smirking “maybe he got intimidated by my good lucks and decided to leave”

You roll your eyes but you can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face. Dimitri notices and is reminded of maxs warnings to not become romantic with you and considers them for a brief moment before smirking and watching you laugh at his jokes

Too late max, too late

———————————————————————

Meanwhile with your fathers……

“No way” Paul exclaims at David’s suggestion as he rises from his seat in his position in the circular meeting “we are not turning our daughters ex fling into one of us”

“I wasn’t a fling” James responds with a a defensive tone

“You might as well have been” faith comments passive aggressively before sitting closer to marko when James eyes glare at her

“Why are you still here again?” James asks aggressively

“Enough” David commands with a tired tone “we wouldn’t be turning him for us, we’d be turning him to find our daughter”

“And how would he do that David?” Dwayne asks with a roll of his eyes “we’ve been looking for months, how is tasking a teenager with the same thing we’ve been doing over and over again going to change anything?”

“Because I know her” James exclaims defensively “I’ll be able to find her, and it’ll be a whole lot easier if I have the abilities that come with being a vampire”

“I know her too, I could find her if I was given the chance” faith interjects and marko gives her a nod before James spins round to face her with a sneer

“But you won’t turn, will you?” James asks with a mocking tone “it goes against your little religion”

“Shut up James” faith hisses back with a glare

“It’s because your a coward-“ James hisses back but is interrupted

“Enough you two, always arguing like children” Dwayne yells with an annoyed expression

“It’s decided” David says firmly “I’m turning him and he will get us our daughter back”

“But you can’t-“ Paul goes to protest but marko interrupts

“I think it’s a good idea” he states calmly “I don’t like the kid but he’d make a pretty decent tracker as a vampire, and it’s not like we have any more options”

Dwayne goes to protest but just sighs before nodding, admitting to the truth in his statement.

“I’ll turn you tomorrow night” David says firmly to James “it’s not an easy process, so prepare yourself”

David goes to get up but faith stops him

“Wait” she exclaims desperately “I want to be turned too”

“What for?” David questions with a raised brow

“To get her back” faith states firmly “I can’t live without her, I promise to be useful I just want to help her”

“Doesn’t that go against your precious god?” James asks mockingly and faith sends him a glare

“She’s worth more than god, I’d do anything for her” faith states firmly before her expression turns desperate and she turns to David “please David, please turn me too”

David eyes faith for a few moments before sighing

“I’ll do it” he states with an annoyed glare “but only because you tried to make her stay, you’d be dead if it wasn’t for the fact that you helped us”

Faith nods and David storms out of the room with a face like thunder after having to deal with all these childish antics.

The only thing that brings him comfort is the fact that he’s one step closer to getting you back.

He’ll get his precious daughter back to him soon, undead or alive

[ryanwritesfanfiction]

Specs x fem!reader

They’ve been dating for a while and he lets her in on what he does for work after she confesses she’s psychic.

I Never Told You What I Do for a Living

Specs x reader

a/n: this is the first fanfiction ive actually written so if its not very good give me some time for improvement im learning,, also english is my second language,, ps i havent seen the insidious movies in a minute so this might be kinda off :3 |no pronouns, no use of y/n|

wc: 500ish

In the few months that you had been dating Specs, you had both gotten to know each other fairly well and were very comfortable with each other. However, he was very avoidant whenever you would bring up what he did for a living. Eventually, you started to feel like you were prying, so you gave up on asking and decided to let him tell you whenever he felt comfortable.

Even though you two had been dating for a while, you hadn’t gotten around to telling Specs about your clairvoyant abilities, not because you were ashamed or purposefully hiding it, but because the subject had not come up. 

It was a lazy Saturday morning and you and Specs had decided to go for coffee and a walk. On your way back to your apartment, you walked past an old house and you immediately felt a strong feeling of anger radiating from whatever spirits were in the house. While walking past the house, the energy was so strong that it caused you to physically have to stop and breathe. Specs immediately noticed the change in your demeanor and looked at you with concern in his eyes. You recovered quickly and continued walking. 

“You know that house is super haunted,” you said absent-mindedly.  “Really?” Specs said in an intrigued tone “How do you know that?”

 You smiled “I might be a touch psychic,” you said as you both continued walking. Specs turned to you “Oh, So do you have premonitions or is it just feelings?” he said excitedly “A little bit of both actually” you replied and he nodded attentively 

“Do you hear and see stuff or can you just feel things?” he asked. You paused to take a sip of your coffee before you replied “I feel and hear it mostly, if the energy is really strong that’s when I might be able to see things”

 “Wow,” Specs looks at you very absorbed in the conversation “That is fascinating” You felt a bit surprised by his attitude since other people who have told you this information seemed to regard you as crazy or would outright dismiss anything you said. “You know most people I tell that to look at me like I’m a lunatic”  

He’s quiet for a little before replying “You know I think you should meet my boss” You were a little confused since it kinda seemed like it was unrelated to the conversation but you were interested nonetheless since this was the closest you had gotten in months in being able to find out what he does. “Really?” you responded “Why would you want me to meet your boss?” you joked.

 He smiled “Well actually, she’s a medium and I’m kind of like her assistant, or at least one of her assistants, Tucker also helps a little but I have a slightly more important role,” he said proudly “We’re sorta like professional ghost hunters” you smile back in response and he continues, “I think you should work with us some time” 

You thought about it for a brief moment “Do you think your boss would like me?” Specs smiled at you “I think she would love you, I know that I do”

[kodaloveschris]

Fragmented Reflections: Nick Sturniolo's Battle with DID

TW: This story contains references to Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) and the challenges associated with mental health, which may be distressing to some readers.

Nick Sturniolo sat in his dimly lit room, the shadows from the window casting eerie shapes across the walls. He sighed deeply, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him. His YouTube career was thriving, and his fans adored him, but there was a secret he carried—a secret that he struggled to understand and control.

Nick had been diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) a few years ago. His therapist had explained it was a condition where two or more distinct identities or personality states alternately control a person’s behavior, often resulting from severe trauma during early childhood. For Nick, the trauma was something he preferred to keep buried deep within.

He glanced at his reflection in the mirror. "Are you ready to film?" he asked, but he wasn't sure if he was speaking to himself or one of the other personalities. Sometimes, it was hard to tell where he ended and they began.

His phone buzzed on the bed. It was a message from Matt: Hey, Nick. Ready for the video shoot today? We’re doing the Q&A you promised the fans.

Nick typed a quick reply: Yeah, just give me a few minutes. He put the phone down and took a deep breath. "Okay, guys," he whispered to his reflection. "We need to be on the same page for this."

Suddenly, the familiar sensation of slipping away took over. He felt disoriented, his vision blurring. When he came to, he wasn't alone in his mind. One of his alters, a young boy named Noah, had emerged. Noah was around eight years old and loved to draw.

"Can I draw something for the video?" Noah asked, his voice timid and soft.

Nick nodded absently, trying to ground himself. "Sure, Noah. But we need to stay focused. The fans are expecting a Q&A, and I need your help to stay present."

But Noah was insistent. "I want to draw now."

Before Nick could respond, another alter, a teenage girl named Riley, took over. Riley was confident and charismatic, everything Nick sometimes felt he wasn’t. "I’ve got this," Riley said, her voice firm. "We’ll give them a great show."

Nick felt a sense of relief wash over him. Riley was good in front of the camera, and with her help, he knew they could get through the video. He grabbed his camera and headed downstairs, where Matt and Chris were already setting up the filming area.

"Hey, Nick!" Matt greeted him, noticing the subtle change in his demeanor. Matt was one of the few people who knew about Nick’s DID and had always been supportive. "You ready?"

Nick nodded, and Riley's confidence shone through. "Absolutely. Let’s do this."

Chris joined them, adjusting the lights. "We’ve got a lot of questions from the fans this time. Should be a good one."

The three brothers settled into their chairs, the camera rolling. "Hey, everyone!" Riley—speaking as Nick—began, flashing a smile. "Welcome back to our channel. Today, we’re doing a Q&A, so let’s get started!"

As they answered questions from fans, Nick felt a sense of normalcy wash over him. Matt and Chris bounced off each other’s energy, making the session lively and engaging. Riley handled the answers with ease, making sure Nick’s usual charm shone through.

But then, midway through the video, Nick felt a sudden shift. His vision blurred again, and when he refocused, Noah was in control.

"I want to draw," Noah said out loud, interrupting the flow of the Q&A.

Matt and Chris exchanged worried glances. "Uh, Nick? You okay?" Chris asked gently.

Nick fought to regain control, but the struggle was visible. "I—I want to draw now," Noah insisted, his voice small and pleading.

Matt reached out, placing a hand on Nick's shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. We can take a break if you need to," he said, his voice soothing.

Nick's head was spinning, and he felt another shift. This time, it was one of his more aggressive alters, Mark, who emerged. Mark was protective but could be harsh and demanding. "Stop treating me like a kid!" Mark snapped, glaring at Matt and Chris.

Chris frowned, recognizing the change. "Alright, Nick—Mark—we're just trying to help."

"Help? You think you can help?" Mark scoffed. "You don’t understand anything."

The atmosphere grew tense, and Nick felt trapped, unable to fully control the chaos within him. He could hear Riley trying to take back control, but Mark was strong and resistant.

"Nick," Matt said carefully, trying to reach his brother. "We’re here for you, no matter what. Let's take a break and regroup."

Nick's body tensed, and he felt another shift, this time back to Noah, who was now scared and overwhelmed. Tears welled up in his eyes. "I just want to draw," Noah whimpered.

Seeing their brother in such distress, Matt and Chris immediately moved to comfort him. Matt gently took Nick’s hand. "It's okay, Noah. Let's go upstairs and get your drawing stuff."

Chris nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we can come back to filming later. Right now, we just want you to feel better."

As they guided Nick upstairs, the emotional rollercoaster continued to take its toll on him. By the time they reached his room, Nick was back in control, but he was exhausted and emotionally drained.

"I'm sorry," Nick said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I ruined the video."

Matt hugged him tightly. "You didn’t ruin anything, Nick. We can always film another day. What matters is that you’re okay."

Chris sat down next to him, offering a supportive smile. "We’ve got your back, bro. Always."

Nick nodded, tears streaming down his face. "Thanks, guys. I don’t know what I’d do without you."

As the day came to a close, Nick lay in his bed, reflecting on the day’s events. He knew his journey with DID was far from over, and days like this would come and go. But with the unwavering support of his brothers and the strength of his alters, he felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. Together, they navigated the complexities of his condition, one day at a time.

[cocrante]

I Start Over With You

[SOLANGELO FANFIC]

summary: After the great battle against the forces of Gaea, Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter had formed a long-lasting alliance. Everything had gone well, and everyone was ready to start anew. This included Nico, who, after confessing his feelings to Percy, was prepared to open a new chapter in his life—perhaps the happiest one the Fates had ever written.

note: the chapters will be updated every Wednesday. If you want to read upcoming chapters of the fanfiction in advance, I invite you to follow me on Patreon. Subscribing is not necessary, these chapters will be added for free on the platform on Mondays and Fridays. Following me there is just a kind and free gesture to support my work c:

Reblogs are highly appreciated c:

[CHAPTERS 16]

WITH THE PALM OF HIS HAND, HE WIPED A CHEEK, something inside him had suddenly broken. It had been since his sister's passing that he had been repressing his emotions. He tried at least to suppress them, but they always remained with him, and that very evening they decided to manifest themselves.

He wiped the other cheek as well, telling himself to stop because he was only making a fool of himself, but the trouble was he couldn't. He felt like a hypocrite, always repeating that he was fine with just being friends, that he would have preferred it rather than losing him over some words too many; yet he so much wanted to hear those words.

He wiped his cheek one last time, lying down on the bed, getting angry with himself for feeling this way.

He managed to fall asleep early, that crying had drained all his energy: for that night, he would sleep soundly.

On the other side of the state, in Austin, Texas, someone else couldn't consider themselves so lucky. Will couldn't close his eyes after that conversation. He could read in his eyes that Nico had been hurt by something he had said.

He hugged the pillow to his chest, letting out yet another sigh, calling himself stupid and cowardly for not being able to do such a simple thing, well maybe not so simple. As he was lost in his thoughts—which pulled him from one side of his mind to the other—the door of his room opened, letting in a woman in a bathrobe. "Will, darling, it's late, go to sleep"

"In a moment, mom" he replied, with a dull tone of voice and absent gaze. Naomi sat down on the bed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Is something wrong?" she asked, waiting for him to respond. Will just sighed, pulling his knees up. "I don't know" he replied. "It's just that he seemed angry—no, disappointed" he told their brief conversation. "I've never seen him like this before"

"Perhaps he expected to hear something else" Naomi suggested.

Will huffed, rolling his eyes. "Mom, I tried, but I can't tell him that I like him"

"Why not?"

"Because if he doesn't feel the same way, then it would be awkward between us" he sighed again, resting his forehead on his knees. His mother looked at him tenderly, knowing all too well how big teenagers' problems seemed and that for anything there seemed to be no solution.

She then lifted his face, stroking a damp cheek. "Why shouldn't he feel the same way?" she asked, curling her lips into a gentle smile. Will kept his gaze low, not having a real answer to give her, he simply believed that if he told him, he would mess things up. The woman got up, pressing her lips to her son's forehead. "Think about it" she said before leaving the room and leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Will retrieved the pillow he was clutching, hugging it again, letting the thoughts return to dominate his mind until they completely overwhelmed him.

The following morning, Will struggled to wake up, although he was accustomed to the camp routine.

In the kitchen, his mother was already there, in her bathrobe, preparing breakfast for him. Lucky her for having managed to sleep. "Good morning my dear" greeted the woman, serving him breakfast. "Good morning" he replied, yawing.

"Slept well?" Naomi asked, already lively in the early morning.

"No—" he answered, slicing into a still warm pancake. "I spent the night thinking"

"Oh" she replied. "And what have you concluded?" she asked, sitting down at the table. Will remained silent for a few moments, staring at the vase of flowers in front of him. "That I want to go to camp this winter" he lifted his gaze. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep it in until June, and in the meantime, Nico might as well get together with someone who wasn't him.

Meanwhile, in New Rome, the sun was slowly rising, illuminating the streets and alleys. Nico woke up with his alarm, getting dressed and ready to leave the apartment. Like the morning before, the streets were already bustling with people.

He retraced his steps, arriving at the school. He sat down at the same desk, occasionally glancing out the window. Slowly, the classroom filled with the same faces he had seen yesterday. Some began to point at him; apparently, word had started to spread. Nico sighed, hoping the story wouldn't drag on like it had years ago at Camp Half-Blood.

The bell rang, signaling the entrance of a new teacher who introduced himself as the science teacher. The lesson lasted longer than he had imagined; he took notes in his notebook, occasionally following along in the textbook. He had decided to apply himself, or at least try; for now, the lesson didn't seem too bad, the hardest part was waking up early every morning.

When the final bell rang, Nico let out a sigh of relief. He left after everyone else, who were whispering and murmuring his name. He didn't realize he was so interesting.

Before returning home, he stopped at a shop in the city, buying some groceries to restock both the fridge and pantry. That evening, he would finally have something to eat!

As he arrived at the door of his new home, he found Jason waiting for him, who apparently someone (thanks Hazel) had told where to find him. "Hi" he greeted, opening the door and inviting him in. Jason returned the greeting, following him up to the first floor and entering the apartment. "Wow! Isn't it a bit too bright?" the son of Jupiter commented, looking around. Nico didn't respond; he simply went to the kitchen and shelved the groceries. "Did Reyna send you?" he asked the boy, who had meanwhile taken a seat. "Hazel did" he replied. "She also mentioned something about your conversation" he said rather evasively. Nico's face went pale, then flushed. As soon as he saw her again, he would give her a good talk about what it meant to keep secrets. "What did she tell you?" Nico asked, sitting down as well.

"Almost everything" Jason replied, looking him in the eyes. Nico ran a hand over his face, this had to be a joke, yet the other seemed so serious.

"So you know" he swallowed so loudly that he felt his Adam's apple rise and then fall.

"Yes"

"So she told you that I like Will" the boy sighed, still unable to believe that his sister had betrayed him. Jason raised a blond eyebrow, crossing his arms on the table. "No, she didn't tell me that" he winked. Nico parted his lips, he'd been tricked. "Actually, Hazel didn't tell me anything" he barely held back a laugh. "But it wasn't exactly a secret that you liked him" he quickly added. Nico didn't know what to think anymore, all of this had really caught him off guard and left him speechless. "So" Jason continued. "When do you plan on telling him?" he became more serious. Nico still didn't answer, it was a question that too many people were asking him now, and Jason didn't know about the last message. At that thought, he suddenly felt sad.

"I don't know" he murmured, feeling tears prickling in his eyes. "Probably never" he confessed, lowering his gaze.

Jason looked at him confused, it had been weeks since that defeated expression had been part of Nico. Something must have happened in those two days. "Why? What happened?" he asked quickly. Nico took a long sigh, trying to control those emotions that were unsettling him too much. "We talked last night" he told him about the conversation from the previous evening, then recounting the events of the night during the game, and adding the kiss at the hill. It felt strange to talk about it with another guy, but Jason turned out to be a good listener, and incredibly, with him, the words came out spontaneously without needing to be moderated.

The son of Jupiter pursed his lips slightly, not missing a word of what Nico had told him. "Well, it seems pretty clear that he likes you" Jason pronounced.

"So why doesn't he tell me?" Nico rolled his eyes.

Jason shrugged. "Maybe he doesn't know how" he suggested. "Perhaps, like you, he's afraid of your reaction" he added. "But if he can't make the first move, you could"

Nico parted his lips, he had never considered the idea of doing it himself. He had always waited for Will to make the first move or at least open up enough to allow Nico to talk to him. Jason's words completely flipped the situation. "Maybe you're right" he pursed his lips to the side, as if he were thinking about something. "But if I have to do it, I'll do it at camp, even if it means waiting until June."

"Just don't wait too long" Jason advised, seeming to take the matter to heart.

"Trust me, I won't"

Jason stayed a bit longer, now that he had freed himself of that burden even with him, it seemed easier to talk to him.

"I'll be in touch" Jason promised before leaving. "And don't worry, I won't spread it around" he said, hugging him before heading out and returning to the Roman camp.

Nico sighed heavily, he was alone again in that large, overly bright apartment.

Before unpacking his backpack, still full of books and notebooks, he ate something, then brought a chocolate bar to his room to nibble on while looking at the pages the teacher had explained. A part of him told him he could do it tomorrow, that they would go on with the explanations anyway, while the other advised him to at least give them a read and not fall behind with the schedule from the start. He decided to listen to his more rational side.

Under the light of the lamp, he began reading those few pages, jotting down some notes. There were no doubts, he would really make an effort that year.

He continued until his eyes grew heavy, and at the fourth yawn, he closed everything and finally got into bed.

In Austin, the son of Apollo paced back and forth in his room, waiting for Nico to call as they had agreed. Will had been looking forward to that moment all day since that morning, he had to tell him about the camp and that they would spend the winter break together. He was so excited when his mother allowed him to go that he would have contacted him immediately if it weren't for school.

The boy sighed, then checked the time. It was almost midnight, and it was clear now that he wouldn't call anymore. He sat on the mattress, it hadn't gone as he hoped, maybe he would hear from him tomorrow, and if not, he would call him himself. "And then what do I tell him?" he said to himself, running a hand over his face. He knew he couldn't bear to see that look again, at the very least he owed him an explanation.

He fell back, landing on the soft bed that seemed to want to embrace him, letting his thoughts take over his mind as had been happening for some time now; and enveloped by his thousand conflicting thoughts, he finally managed to fall asleep.

[CONTENTS]

1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 • 12 • 13 • 14 • 15 • 16 • 17 • 18 • 19 • 20

[im-in-love-with-pizza-bites]

To Raise Children: Chapter 30

Chris Evans X Daughter!Reader, Grandpa!Chris Evans X Flynn and Felix Evans (OCs) Tom Holland X Single-Mom!Reader (Slow Burn)

Series Masterlist

OC List

Series Summary: It's been 4 years, your sons are starting kindergarten, you're starting junior year of college, a lot has changed.

Chapter Summary: Tom talks to him mom about you and the boys

Series Warnings: Age gap (Reader is 20, Tom is 29), absent father, mentions teen pregnancy, mentions abortion, if you see anymore please let me know politely.

Chapter Warnings:

Sequel to "It Takes A village"

A/n: It's been months I know. But hopefully the next chapter should come out sooner can't promise it.

Tom walks into his parents home. He kicks off his shoes before walking into the living room where his mom was sitting.

"Hey mum." He smiles at her.

"Tom dear! I didn't hear you come in." She sits up. "How are you?"

"Im good. Are Sam and Harry still coming for dinner too?" He says sitting next to her.

"Yes they are. They're gonna be a little later. How is Y/n?" Nikki asks smiling.

"She's good she's visiting family right now so I haven't talk to her yet. I hate the time differences." He says leaning back on the couch. "Mom I love her. She's just amazing, mum. She's kind, she's funny, she's so beautiful. She's an amazing mum too! I love her sons too, they're so much like her! Flynn he read to me! He's not even in first grade yet he's so smart, and Felix he is great at drawing! He drew spiderman and it was so good! I have a photo of it on my phone" Nikki has an amused smile on her face as she listens to him. She can't wait to meet you or the twins.

"You really love them don't you?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?" He laughs.

"Your eyes lit up when I asked about her. You're also bragging about those boys, it's sweet. I can't wait to meet them they must be very special."

"They are mum. I've never felt this way before about a woman. I think she's the one." He looks at her with a giddy grin.

"Im happy for you dear, I can't wait to meet her. And her sons, I've always wanted grandkids. You've been taking a while too." Nikki chuckles

"You have four kids Im not the only one who can give you grandkids."

"You are the oldest though you've had the most time."

"Yeah."

"But seriously when will I get to meet them." She smiles.

"I don't know I want to fly them here maybe as a Christmas gift but she still wants to keep me separate from the twins so maybe next summer if I don't have any projects."

"Okay, me and your dad really are happy for you."

"Thank you mum." He smiles looking down at his phone when he heard it ding. It was you, you sent him a photo of the twins and Amelia at brunch. He replies before showing the photo to his mom. "This one is Flynn you can tell cause his eyebrows are thicker than Felix's and Felix has bigger ears. The little girl is their sister, Amelia."

"Awe." She smiles looking at the photo. "They're so precious."

———

You were finally home. You sat the bags on the floor as the boys ran past you to the backyard. You sigh and go to the couch flopping down on it. You look towards the window the boys are playing on their playset. You pull your phone out texting your dad letting him know you got home safely before doing the same to Tom. Tom responds almost immediately says that's good. It's about 7pm here so it's about midnight there in London. You're not surprised hes aware hes been staying up late to talk to you since you became official. He calls you right as you start writing a response.

"How was the flight? Were the boys better this time?"

"It was alright, yeah they were great this time. Luckily this time we didn't wake up early and we got dinner right before the flight so they weren't cranky."

"That's good."

"How was dinner with your parents?" You ask looking out the window.

"Good."

"That's good." You say.

"Where's the boys?"

"The backyard playing. I don't know how but they have so much energy." You say taking a deep breath.

"Is it dark over there yet?"

"No they have maybe an hour or so." You says standing up and going to the back door. You could barely see them through the window of their playset.

"So you have time to talk!" Tom says you can't see it but he's grinning.

"Isn't it late for you? You should get to bed."

"No I wanted to talk to you about something actually." He says, "so you know how I told you I'm going to take a break from taking roles for a little while? Well I was thinking maybe I could get an apartment close to you. I've been thinking about applying for duel citizen ship anyway with how much I'm in America anyway."

"Really? You want to move out here?" You whispers looking outside to make sure the twins weren't listening.

"Yeah. It probably won't be till after Christmas though. But I do still want to come down for the boy's birthday."

"It would be nice having you close. And my dad will be back and able to babysit by then." You mention absentmindedly. "I'd like it but it's up to you."

"Okay."

"Uh I should go I need to get the boys asleep but I can call you back after?" You say.

"Yeah sure. Bye darling."

"Bye."

Taglist: @fic-for-readers @denisemarieangelina @thevelvetseries @kaitieskidmore1 @ellerosie2332 @tahniemarie @runawayolives @marajillana @buckybarnez @positivelyholland @firehoseevan @coldmuffinpartycloud @beautifulrose0809 @believinghurts @laura-naruto-fan1998 @shadow-dixon @claaaaaaire-blog @mrs-brekker15 @h-j-s-03 @moniffazictress11 @buxkybarnez @ducks118 @kalopsia-flaneur @silverrmist @some-lovely-day @peterparkerbae @Olivia197810 @gengen64 @Bellagaseta20 @hollzo-03 @bubb1eana1ee @cmalas @jamie0515 @mpamphsss @bucketbarnes12 @lyraficrecs @hunni-bunny @lyrarodriguez @snigdha-14 @cedricdiggorysimpp @Multifandom_Boss_Bitch @sea040561 @queensgirl718

[jaywalkers]

twenty questions for fic authors

i was tagged by @decaflondonfog! thank you, i loved reading all of your thoughts on your own writing so i'm vv excited to do this.

How many works do you have on AO3? 21 revealed, and then my super secret fic for the @aftgthenandnow fest (which people should totally go and check out if they haven't already)

What's your total AO3 word count? 443,022 words, which is horrifying and likely to hit 500,000 by the end of this year. lord have mercy

What fandoms do you write for? i'm currently very happy in my tfc shaped hole and have been for the last while but i do have some wips floating around for the likes of teen wolf (long live cringe) and mdzs still!

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? these bad boys! total pick'n'mix of fandoms here a made thing [10k, sangcheng, T] sunset, like survival [86k, kandreil, E] postcard mouth [7k, matchablossom, G] the post-impact stage [3k, andreil, G] work song, crawl home [3k, sangcheng, G]

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not? in all honesty once i've written a fic it's out there in the world and i am absent from anything going forward of it. i dearly, dearly appreciate everyone who puts time into commenting because it truly is the thing i stick around fandom for, but i don't have the time or energy a lot of the time to reply effectively and to not just keep repeating thank you's!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? considering it uses the 'Bad Ending' tag, it'll have to be a room full of knives! it is canon-compliant though, so is the angst really my fault?

What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? i feel like most of my fics have a somewhat happy ending, if not just a simple open-ended one, but i might say sunbreak for this because the ending of it is very joyful and there isn't much else left to say to hide the happiness.

Do you get hate on any fics? not really! i did get the worlds most insane comment on NOSTOS a couple years ago that was kind of horrible to read but it was anger at a character and not my fic lmao.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? i'd never written it until this year because it was on my writing goals list for the year! i can't really say what kind because i've only written a couple of scenes so i'm not sure where they sit in the grand scheme of things but i have written some!

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've ever written? not really! i am a big AU fan — the kandreil teen wolf au i wrote this year with the beloved and highly esteemed @dayurno is probably the craziest, but i have a kandrew 'gideon the ninth' au planned too! if we're talking actual crossovers, there was a hilarious in-joke au partially written in a group chat a couple of years ago that was a WOH and MDZS law firm au. xue yang owned jby's soul. wei wuxian had bitcoin. i have a customised t-shirt for it.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? yup! and it's the reason i put writing away for about four years when i was in high school because i was so demotivated to share my stuff.

Have you ever had a fic translated? i think there's two or three of my fics that i've given permission for russian translations! i don't think they've been finished though so it would be cool if that ever ends up happening!

Have you ever co-written a fic before? as stated earlier, i spent eight months in an echo-chamber with @dayurno in which we went into a mutual fugue state and came out with wet-eyed banshee kevin and his high school boyfriends. maybe one day we'll get to the twinyards sequel of it i do also have to shoutout @picturedframes who was half of the mastermind behind sunset, like survival, and has contributed an insane amount to other works like diachronic and all that looking down.

What's your all time favourite ship? don't ask me this,,,, it chops and changes from year to year! i think in favour of being nice to myself i'm going to just say percabeth — they're the OGs from day one and they still hold up in my heart

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? either my 'the old guard' wenzhou au, or the other installments of the nostos 'verse! i loved them dearly at the time and i do think they would be well worth writing still, but my interests have moved on fandom-wise slightly! maybe one day i'll revist them, but not any time soon i don't think.

What are your writing strengths? ohh. digging my teeth into a character, i think. i use fic as a way to kind of just write thesis' and loveletters and stories all at the same time, and i think i'm good at holding up a character and writing out what makes them tick! and maybe a weird one but fleshing out the wider world? i'm very proud of like, my background characters. describing people who take coffee orders and who are studying in the library too and who are one-line classmates.

What are your writing weaknesses? this time last year i would have said dialouge but i think i've gotten better at it this year! probably being too verbose. i think i have a tendency to get carried away with thoughts and descriptions and i think sometimes that means they lose their potency when i really need them! it's a goal for next year i think; learning how to pare back my writing and make it more effective.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? ahhhhhh aha ha ha aha . you're talking to the bitch who's current fic is all about kevin relearning gaeilge/irish so you bet there's a lot of dialogue in other languages in it! also diachronic and sunset, like survival both have a substantial amount of other languages: diachronic uses french, gaeilge, and japanese, while sls throws german into the mix!

First fandom you wrote for? the bible just kidding lmao though i did write stories when i was in catholic school with biblical characters. i think it was fairy tail!

Favourite fic you've written? noooooo don't make me answer this one. there's many different questions inside of that one question (what one i'm most proud of, what one i feel the most for, what one i had the most fun with), and i don't think there's one that works for them all. i think i'll say diachronic, maybe, for now. my first forway into the head of my beloved kevin day and certainly not the last.

i don't know who has/hasn't been tagged in this so it's an open invite, but i am going to tag @dayurno @sunriseinorbit @moondal514 @kamyska

[126dvtn]

— am i... hurting you?

summary : it’s your first time with tartaglia, and it may not be going as well as you thought.

tw : reader has an implied history of being s*xually ass*ulted ; tr*uma response/p*nic attack.

genre : angst ; hurt/comfort ; slightly suggestive at the start ; please do not read if uncomfortable with the topic. 

this was it. your long-awaited first time with childe. both you and he had your clothes partially off- leaving mostly your undergarments and pants on your bodies.

he was kissing you, from your ears to your cheek then along your jaw- moving downwards towards your tummy. his boner was prominent against your leg as he continued exploring the rest of your skin. your arms were as jittery as the butterflies in your stomach. you were completely ready for this moment- or so you thought.

as your lover continued to relish your skin, you felt a heavy feeling in your core. his lips travelled across your skin, pouring love onto every space and crevice of your body. you felt your head spin. his fingers traced your sides in a slow, sensual manner. your breathing became heavier. you could hear nothing but the sound of breathing and the smacks of his ever-kissing lips, and it was making your ears ring. surely, this must be arousal?

your thoughts drifted off to nothing and your mind turned blank. every contact he made with you turned into electricity yet felt so numb at the same time. the ceiling became some sort of feast for your eyes as you stared into subconsciousness. is this really arousal?

“[name]? hellooo, you here? i’ve called you three times already.” ah. you’re back in reality. you looked down to see childe’s blue eyes staring at you with concern. he got up and sat beside you, enveloping your hands in his. “you know we can stop whenever. i don’t mind.” you opened your mouth to answer, but your voice seemed lodged in your throat. the only thing you could do was stare at his eyes. “[name], am i... hurting you?”

now you were confused. hurting? there was no way he was hurting you. the both of you wanted this. he was loving you- that’s what he was doing. but the words wouldn’t come out, so you forced yourself to shake your head.

“then why are you crying?”

...you were? you swept your fingers against your cheek, and it turned out true. you were crying. how do you respond? what do you do? all you did was fold your legs up and cradle yourself- it only felt natural. “i’m sorry” you whispered, voice heavy and cracking under the heat of your throat.

“don’t be sorry,” he whispered in return, not knowing where to put his hands.

“i’m sorry,” you mumbled, guilt washing over you as you remembered the excitement on his face an hour ago, when you told him you were ready.

“really, don’t be sorry,” he kept whispering, reaching out to hold you. no, you thought, flinching away as you drowned in the overwhelming anxiety that you had just now identified.

“i’m sorry,” you sobbed, just imagining the look on his face as you rejected his love so bluntly.

a short pause. “it’s okay.” he decided to say. you did not reply. “i’m here for you.” another pause. “i don’t care about sex or anything else. i just want you to be okay.” and that evoked a loud sob from you, and you only tightened your hold on yourself. “is there anything i can do?” his voice was a sincere whisper.

deep breaths. you had to gather energy to answer. “just- stay here... you don’t have to do anything,” you managed to whisper back through your hot tears. then you cried. you cried, and you breathed, and you cried, and you slept. exhausted from your emotions.

and when you woke up, you were tucked into the bed comfortably. a figure sat beside you, playing with his fingers absent-mindedly. “ajax?” you called out. his thoughts were interrupted as he turned to look at you. “you’re awake,” the worry and concern in his voice was something you had never heard before. “how are you feeling?” he asked, completely shifting his position so he was facing you.

“tired,” you said, “better, but tired.” and that made sense. he stared thoughtfully into the blanket that covered you, an odd difference from his usually spontaneous actions. “can i... hug you?” his eyes searched yours. you nodded.

again, his movements were slow and full of thought. again, you weren’t used to this treatment from the wild, young childe. but you were not complaining. the slow pace matched your state of mind. he leaned forward, cradling your head next to his. “i’m sorry for not noticing earlier, [name]. you know me. i got caught up in my own emotions and became careless. i’m sorry.” and your eyes welled up with hot tears again.

“when you’re ready, can we talk about this? you don’t have to tell me everything. i just... wanna know what i can do to help.” his hold on you became firmer as he awaited your answer.

“sure,” you mumbled against his neck. “thank you.” and in his arms, you drifted off to sleep again.

author’s notes : childe is another interesting character to write i think :3 i did write this mainly from self indulgence, so please inform me if there are any mistakes that need amendments! thank you for reading <3

[be-gay-do-heists]

hardison/parker || masc day for parker, potentially while on date with hardison

i think it ended up a little more the dysphoria route with this one but i hope this at least touches on what u were looking for!! had a spark of an idea and had to write it :V

---

If it was just the dress, maybe Parker could stand it.

Hardison had won choosing date night this time around, and he had suggested a new restaurant that recently opened up on the other side of town. A nicer restaurant. Which meant fancier clothes and Hardison had said the dress code recommended dresses so. The dress. It had been fine, leaving the brewpub in it to go meet Hardison at the restaurant. It was comfy enough, the fabric had a nice texture, and it was the same kind of green that you could see if you looked sideways at a professionally cut emerald, which was one of their favorite colors.

It was only upon arriving at the restaurant that they realized they really, really, really did not want to be wearing it.

And if it was just the dress, maybe it would be fine. But they were out in public, and Parker had come to understand over the years that if people in public thought they had your gender clocked, you had to act, walk, and talk a certain way if you didn’t want weird stares, unwelcome attention. A performance that they didn’t particularly have the energy for if there wasn’t a con and the promise of a payout at the end of it. The first “miss” they got from the hostess made them twitch, but they made sure to keep their mask up as they saw Hardison, already at the table, who smiled sunnily as they approached and stood to help with their chair. He was wearing his purple suit, the deep plum colored one that reminded them of a bottle full of red wine.

“Wow. You look amazing, I can’t believe you’ve been hiding that dress for so long,” he said as they both sat down. “It’s not one of Sophie’s?” There was a trace of playfulness in his voice.

“No, it’s mine, I didn’t steal it,” Parker replied, latching onto his good mood for stability. They fidgeted, hyperaware of their bare shoulders and the cut of the dress around their torso. “Well, not from her anyways.”

Hardison snorted in that fond way of his. “Hey, it’s not stealing if it looks that good on you. That’s just proper re-appropriation. Anyways, you’re gonna love this place, the whole idea is normal fancy food, boring boring et cetera, but! They change the colors around so it messes with your senses and makes you experience it differently, you get me? I’m talking like green steaks, purple mashed potatoes. Cool, right?”

“Yeah, sounds great,” Parker agreed absently, discreetly hunching a little and hoping Hardison wouldn’t notice. They fiddled with the utensils on the table, which had little chameleons etched on them. That was fun. This was supposed to be fun, they reminded themselves.

“Hey, you ok?” Hardison asked, brows furrowed.

A waiter came up before he could say more. “Welcome, folks, pleasure to have you with us this evening. Can I start you with drinks?” After Hardison, concern still showing in his face ordered a fruity-sounding cocktail, the waiter turned to Parker. “And for the lady?”

They couldn’t help their flinch, knowing that Hardison saw it, and pulled out their most flawless grifting voice to respond. They deflated a little again once the waiter left.

“Shit. I shouldn’t have said dress. I should have specified that you could have worn anything you wanted, who even cares about restaurant dress codes,” the hacker said, rubbing his hands over his face. Parker had to give it to him, sometimes his brain worked faster than his computers, and he was always twice as perceptive. “Is it a they night? A he night?”

Parker shrugged a little apologetically. “I’m not sure. It’s just really, really not a she night.”

“I’m really sorry Parker, I should have checked in before we came,” Hardison sighed, and having him in the loop did actually make Parker feel a little better. “Do you wanna get out of here? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable for any longer than you have to.”

Parker immediately felt bad again. “No, you won date night, you were so excited about this place.”

“Man, don’t even sweat it,” Hardison reassured them, waving a hand. “We can come back some other time when we’re actually feeling it. Or if it’s never the date vibes, I can ask Sophie if she wants to try it sometime. You know she gets a kick out of dressing up and I’m sure she would call this place ‘an exercise in creative expression and reaction’ or something.” He smiled at Parker’s bark of laughter following his terrible impression of Sophie, which made a couple other patrons startle in their seats.

“I don’t really want to be in this dress anymore,” Parker admitted. “Maybe we could go back to the brewpub and do something there?”

“Hey, if I ever refuse a quiet night in, know that I’ve been replaced with a clone or maybe a mind-eating fungus,” Hardison beamed at them, and flagged down the waiter to pay for their drinks with a tip that made the man’s jaw drop, letting Parker lead the way out.

On the ride home, Hardison gave Parker his suit jacket, pretending he was too hot even though it was damp and cold out. It was far too big for the thief and they thought it was kind of ridiculous how it came down to almost their knees, but the broad shoulders on it made them feel good. And the wine color purple was fantastic, even though they thought it looked far better on Hardison. They said as much, and took a silent satisfaction in the way Hardison ducked his chin to hide his face.

Entering back into the safety of the brewpub and the upstairs apartment took a weight off Parker, and they sighed, kicking off their shoes and slipping off Hardison’s jacket to cast onto the back of the couch. Hardison picked up to carefully keep it from creasing with a “heaven help me” kind of look. “You got everything you wanna wear here? Need anything of mine?”

“Mostly, but…” Parker thought aloud. “Could I borrow one of your shirts? The soft ones?”

Hardison nodded fondly. “Sure thing, lemme grab one.” While he was in the bedroom, Parker stripped off their dress like it was burning them, shaking the feeling of it away once it was off. They spotted their good jeans on the chair by the hallway that Hardison liked to call “Parker’s wardrobe,” where all the clothes they had left while over lived, and rushed to put them on. They were comfy and boxy and had a button-up fly. More buttons felt good.

“Incoming,” Hardison’s voice called, and he entered with his eyes covered, tossing a shirt in their direction. Parker jumped to catch it, and quietly approved of his selection, a wooly flannel type. They wiggled it on, tucking it in slightly, and exhaled in relief on how delightfully big it was, draping off the prominent muscles in their shoulders, leaving enough room on their torso so that the fabric wouldn’t cling to them. They rolled up the sleeves to expose their strong forearms, looked down at their broad hands. Yeah, this was much better, they thought, tying up their hair high.

“I’ve still got those canvases from last time, and the same paints, if you wanna do that. Ooh, I just got some good charcoal too if you’d rather sketch,” Hardison was saying, sifting through his art supplies. Parker bounded over and pressed up against his side. He jumped slightly but turned to look at them. “Feeling better?”

“Lots,” Parker hummed.

The hacker took in their outfit change. “And looking damn handsome too. Real suave, James Dean kinda look.” When Parker wryly grinned and crossed their arms, squaring their shoulders and standing tall, he mimed a swoon (Parker could see the slight, genuine flush that rose to his face). “So what do you wanna do tonight?”

“Dunno, it’s still your date night,” Parker replied, putting a little more husk in their voice and enjoying the way they could see Hardison’s thoughts stutter slightly.

He recovered quickly. “Well, all I want is a nice night in with my fella, whatever we do is gonna be more than alright with me.”

Parker felt another glow of joy at the endearment, and moved to wrap their arms tightly around him, one hand coming up to grip the back of the hacker’s neck. “Thanks Hardison. I really mean it.”

Hardison softened a little against their firm embrace. “Of course, I never want you to be uncomfortable. I love you.”

“I know,” Parker responded, and smiled mischievously into Hardison’s shoulder as he sputtered.

“Oh no you did not—“

[oshbluepacific]

Love Me for Granted pt. II

Type: Angst

Character: Park Chanyeol x Reader (College Au!)

Words Counted: 5k1+

questions and request are available / masterlist

It has been a month since the last time you saw Chanyeol. And the last time you saw him was before he bolted out from your house with his car, with tears in his eyes. Every step you go, you couldn’t help but to hear Chanyeol’s name getting mentioned. Whether he’s already found another girl or he’s in bad condition. None, you can believe, you don’t know if any of it is true or not, so it was slowly killing your inside. You don’t really see him in campus ground as well, so you don’t know how he is on his end, you can only hear his condition from mouth to mouth.

“Did you hear? Chanyeol has finally broken up with (Y/N).”

“She never treats him right! She was so… quiet, and Chanyeol was the life of the party.”

“Chanyeol’s grades have drop, that’s, unusual.”

“I heard that he’s going out with Yuna now.”

“I mean seriously, what did Chanyeol see in her?”

It was a torture or you. To walk in campus ground and people are seeing you as the villain. You didn’t bother to correct any of them because you felt like you are the villainand that you’ve hurt Chanyeol’s feelings. You never really care or even bothered by people thoughts’s and what they have to say about you, but this time it does. You started to avoid the crowds more and you’d leave campus ground the second you’ve finished all your classes and volleyball practice. Most of your teammates asked about you and Chanyeol, but you brushed it off, and they seemed pretty annoyed how you respond to it. But you didn’t know what to do. It feels like, ever since you’ve lost Chanyeol, you’ve lost your own common sense in an ordinary conversation with people around you.

           You haven’t been eating well, and certainly not enough sleep because you’re overthinking about everything every single night. You decided you’ll be absent from class today, and also volleyball practice, to get yourself some rest. You’ve spent the day reading the novels you haven’t been touching in a short while. You didn’t have the energy to cook, so you just ordered some food in. During the afternoon, as you were enjoying your fried noodles on the couch, all snuggle comfortable between the pillows and under the blanket, as you were watching a movie, you felt your phone vibrated just under your butt. You pulled it out to read the text, and you felt your social anxiety kicked in.

Nayeon

Hey, are you okay? you weren’t in class.

Are you able to make it to practice?

Hey, can you get down here? coach wants us all here, he has an important announcement.

Be quick!

You texted her back, what is it about, but she didn’t reply, thinking that Nayeon went back on with practice. You let out a heavy, and annoying groan as you got off the couch and turned the TV off. Not even bothered to get changed, you were wearing your shorts and hoodie and to complete the look, you put the hood on over your head, before tightening it around yoru face. You slipped in a pair of slippers before you grabbed your car keys and walked out the house to drive to campus.

           The place you planned to avoid for the day.

You reached campus just before dark out and right on time after practice finished. As you were walking yourself towards the gym, many eyes were darted on you by the students but it didn’t bother you as much.

           “Ah, (Y/N)! I’m glad you can make it! I’m sorry I had to make you drove all the way here while you’re feeling unwell.” Your coach told you, causing eyes to turn to you. You just gave him a small smile before you walked closer to your team.

           “So, I wanted to gather all of you here because I have an important announcement.” He said, putting his board that’s filled with lines and circles aside.

           “(Y/N), I want you to get better as fast as possible, because we’re going to have a tournament starting next week!” He announced excitedly, as your teammates cheered happily getting excited as well while you were just stood there with your hands in your hoodie pocket and your eyes widen. “So, I want you guys to keep your condition healthy, and practice would be twice a week.” He added. Your coach went on and on about practice, and who’s joining the tournament. It was almost like a little briefing before the tournament starts, and you listened to everything he was saying carefully.

           “Alright!” He clapped his hands together as his bright smile appeared on his lips. “I think that’s all I need to tell you guys, get home safely, next practice will on next Tuesday, and I won’t be going easy on any of you guys!” He joked and the girls laughed.

           All of you went into a huddle and did a cheer together before the crown breaks. As you were about to leave the gym, Yuna caught up with you.

           “Hey, have you been feeling okay?” She asked you, and you turned your heels to face her as you nodded your head.

           “Yeah, feeling okay… just needed that time to rest up I think.” You told her, “Is everything okay?”

           “Yeah… everything is okay!” She smiled, but you noticed there was something she was hiding. “Actually, I know you’ve heard about me and Chanyeol right?” She asked you, and you felt your heart sank.

           “Yeah…” You answered.

           “I just want to tell you that… there’s nothing going on with us, we’re just friends and he actually told me a lot and he told me that he didn’t want to be in a relationship at all for the moment, that’s all.” She explained.

           “Why do I need to know this?” You asked, but it came to Yuna as if you’ve snapped.

           “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you… I just thought that maybe you should know…” She said, feeling guilty all of the sudden. You felt guilty yourself because you didn’t mean to snap at her.

           “Yuna—”

           “Oh, shoot, I should go pack! My boyfriend’s going to be mad if I’m not ready! We’ll talk later okay?” She smiled brightly before she lets go of your hand, taking steps back before turning around to get her bag. You turned your heels to walk out of the gym, feeling guilty of how the way you talked to Yuna.

           You walked towards your car, and you noticed the car that was parked right next to yours.

Chanyeol’s.

The last time you saw his car was a month ago. Bolting out from your drive way real fast, screeching the corner. You looked around and you saw there was nobody. You unlocked your car and as you opened the door, about to go in, you heard a familiar voice.

           “(Y/N)?”

           You looked up to see Chanyeol with books in his hands. He was wearing a black t-shirt and jeans with his reading glasses on. He pushed his hair back, showing the muscles in his arm.

           “I heard you didn’t come in to class today, were you okay?” He asked.

           You felt your heart flutters, but yet breaks at the same time. Knowing that you’re not together but he still cares about you.

           “Yeah, I just need a time off from things… I want to rest.” You told him, as he walked closer to you.

           “Well, what’s wrong with Saturday and Sunday? Don’t you rest on those days?” He asked picking a joke, and you chuckled.

           “Well, two days isn’t enough for me, so I had to take the extra day.” You said, giving him a small smile.

           There was a bit of a silence between you two and you didn’t know what else to say.

           “So, what are you doing here?” Cahnyeol asked.

           “Sorry?” You apologized, for not hearing him.

           “What were you doing here?” He repeated.

           “Oh, coach wanted me to come… he just announced that, we’re going to have a tournament in a week.”

           “Oh, that’s fun, be sure you’re healthy for the tournament!” He smiled, before there was another moment of silent.

           “Will you be there to watch?” You asked him, feeling your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as you asked.

           “Of course… I’ll be there.” He smiled.

           You smiled back at him before you noticed there were troubledness in his face.

            “You should get going, Sehun is probably waiting for you.” You told him.

           “Yeah, right… Oh, and uh, (Y/N)?” He stopped on his tracks as you stopped yourself from getting into the car.

           “Can we… I don’t know, talk sometimes?” He asked.

           You felt your heart flutters, and your eyes welling up. But, managed to hold back your tears and gave him a small smile.

           “I would love to chat.” You told him. You saw his troubledness fade and he smiled.

           “Great! I’ll see you around.” He then walked towards his car as you got into yours and turning the engine on.

           You pulled your car out from the parking lot, as Chanyeol gave you a wave of a hand before you waved back at him and drove away from campus ground.

-

Between classes, volleyball practice and your own mental thoughts, it was hard to keep up. You would come home completely exhausted from everything. People were still talking about you, even though the break-up was already old news. They would still get those judging looks, from top to bottom and then you’d still hear those whispers—even when you’re at home you could still hear those words ghosting around your house. You never stayed in campus, even though your teammates wanted you to join a meal together after practice. You turned it down because you told them you were too tired to even do anything else, when your real reason was you didn’t want to be in that social group. You’ve crossed path with Chanyeol a few times, and he’s starting to talk to you more each day.

Today, practice was done before the sun could go down, due tomorrow is rest day and the tournament starts the next day. There was a long briefing after practice before your coach could break the circle so that everyone could go home. You packed your stuffs before you walked out of the gym as you were pulling your hairband. You didn’t bring your car today because you didn’t feel like driving. You just want to sit back and rest.

           As you were turning the corner, you bumped into someone and fell back onto the ground.

           “Oh shit, (Y/N), I’m so sorry!” You heard Chanyeol’s voice.

           You looked up and he was already extending his hand to you. You took his hand before he helped you to get back on your feet. You bend down to grab your bag and patted your butt and the back part of your thigh.

           “You okay?” He asked concern in his voice. You quickly nodded your head, giving him a weak, small smile before pushing your hair back.

           “Yeah, I’m fine… just tired.” You told him, as you felt your legs jiggle from jumping half a day. You noticed the crowd far behind Chanyeol started to whisper to each other as you tighten your grip onto your gym bag strap.

           “Well, I guess I’ll be heading off then.” You said nervo usly, walking past Chanyeol and past the crowd.

           Chanyeol’s eyes followed you, and he overheard what the crowds were saying.

           “I bet she’s finally getting that medicine on treating Chanyeol like a crap!” One girl giggled before the others followed.

           And you stopped on you tracks.

           “She’s such a weirdo! Why did she even agree on going out with Chanyeol in the first place anyway? Clearly she doesn’t love him.”

           “What does Chanyeol even see in her? I don’t—"

           You continued to walk, but this time faster. Chanyeol turned his heels and jogged himself to catch you. As you were walking, with your eyes well up with tears, you legs suddenly felt numb and you stumbled forward.

           “(Y/N)!” Chanyeol rushed to you and you were surprise when you turned around he was already close to you before he kneeled down beside you.

           “Are you okay?” He asked.

           You shook your head, forcing a smile. “Yeah, my legs suddenly just felt numb.” You told him, but he knew that you were in pain.

           “Come here.” He then moved himself in front of you. you were confused at first but you raised your eyebrow.

           “Just get on my back (Y/N), please.” Chanyeol said. You couldn’t see his espression, but his tone was stern. It came out more like a command than asking.

           You slowly got on his back, wrapping your arms around his neck, as he placed his hands around your thigh. He counted, one, two, three to himself before he could get up from the ground. He jumped once as you helped him to shift your position, before he could start walking towards, go knows where.

           “Did you bring your car?” Chanyeol asked, and you shook you head.

           “No, I took the bus today.” You told him in a small voice.

           “Well you’re lucky that I’m still here, I’ll take you home.” He said, and you made a face.

           “No, it’s fine, just drop me of by the gates!”

           “(Y/N), I’m not going to let you get home by yourself, standing in the bus with you jelly legs.” He pointed out, and you stayed silent.

           Chanyeol walked towards the parking lot and you saw his car parked nicely. But somehow, Chanyeol walked past his car.

           “Um… where are we going?” You asked him.

           “I need to pick up a few stuff from the library.” He answered you.

           “But, do you really need to carry me everywhere you go? You could’ve just drop me in your car while I wait for you.” You told him

           He stopped on his tracks and turned around. “Oh yeah, you’re right.” He walked towards his car, before he could gently place your feet back onto the ground. He still had his hand placed around your waist, and you still holding yourself to him. He fished his car keys from his pocket before you quickly struggle to walk towards the passenger front seat.

           “Promise me you won’t take off?” Chanyeol asked, opening the door to the driver’s seat.

           “Yes… I promise.” You told him, and a small smile appeared on his face before she could turn his car engine on. He placed his sling bag and also your gym bag in the back of the car.

           “Stay here, I won’t be long.” He said, shutting the door before rushing away towards the library.

           You were now alone in Chanyeol’s car, with only the sound of the air conditioner and distant voices from out of the car. You turned on the radio so that you don’t feel like you’re going crazy. As you were scrolling through your phone, you heard a knock on the car window and you jumped before you see one of your classmate looking through. You pushed the button, rolling the window down and she was in shock.          

           “It really is you! what are you doing here?” She asked.

           “Um… Chanyeol wanted to take me home, but he needed to pick up a few stuff from the library.” you explained.

           “Really? Right after everything you’ve put him through?” She asked and your heart sank.

“After you made him feel like shit? After you’re not appreciating him? After having himself getting hurt because of you? he’s is still putting up with you?” She asked again but you stayed silent.

           “Wow, he really does have a heart of gold…” She commented making a face.

           “And you’re saying yes because… what? You regret it? You’re going to beg to him to take you back?” She asked, scoffing hard.

           “I’m not, I-I-I’m just—”

           “Be smart (Y/N)… you’re just not worth his time! You’re just going to waste him and dump him again like you did! Youj just don’t appreciate him—”

           “Knock it off Ye-Eun.” You heard Chanyeol suddenly. You turned your head to see only part of Chanyeol’s torso from the diver side window. Before you quickly look back down.

           “Chanyeol, you’re seriously not putting up with her again, are you?” She asked, pulling her head up, guessing that she’s looking towards Chanyeol.

           “Just leave her alone, Ye-Eun… You don’t know her.”

           You heard her scoff again, followed by a mocking laugh. “Come on! The whole campus knows what she put you through! You skipped classes, you’re failing your grades, you were caught drinking, and ALMOST—mind my language—you almost got into a car accident because you were drunk driving!” As you heard it, your eyes widen, eyes started to sting as your eyes welled up with tears.

           “We’re leaving, if you’re going to stay and still say crap about things, be my guest, but we’re leaving.” Chanyeol said, as you herd the driver seat door being open and Chanyeol’s presence were by your side.

           Chanyeol pressed a button that rolled your window up before he could pull his car out from the parking lot and sped away from campus grounds.

The drive was quiet, either you nor Chanyeol said a word. When Chanyeol got into a red light, he came into a stop and the suspense between you two were starting to murder your insides.

           “Is it okay if stop and get something to eat first?” Chanyeol asked finally breaking the ice, turning his attention to you.

           You turn to him and he could clearly see your bloodshot eyes, your eyebags started to get puffy. You pressed your lips together into a line before turning your attention back to the road and you shrugged.

           “Okay.” You answered him in a small voice.

           “If you don’t want to it’s fine I could just—”

           GRUMBLE GRUMBLE GRUMBLE. You felt you face burned turning red, letting your face drop as Chanyeol chuckled.

           “I think a meal sound great now.” You recovered, with a small smile before you both ended up chuckling.

Chanyeol ended up taking you to this small sushi place, and as an addition, it was the first time you’re back here since your first date with Chanyeol.

           “Wow… not much has change in this place.” You said, looking around the place as you both seated onto the booth.

           “Yeah, I haven’t been here since the last time we were both here.” Chanyeol told you, and you just smiled, knowing that it’s his first time back here since your first date with him.

           The waitress took your order and Chanyeol’s before she could take your drinks out beforehand.

           You enjoyed your unsweetened tea while you’re on your phone as Chanyeol watched you.

           He knew how private you are, he knew that you’re not the type of person that can talk easily about your personal feelings. Even when he was still in a relationship with you, some people would talk crap about and you know it. It bothers you, but you never told him. You would always keep those feelings to yourself because you never want to make ‘a big deal’ out of it.  He knew that yourself and Chanyeol are the big talk in campus right now. It’s clear that you’ve heard all it, and he knows so well that it’s hurting you and yet here you are, sitting in front of him, bottling everything up to yourself.

           “(Y/N)?” Chanyeol finally broke the ice between you two. You looked up from your, with the straw between your lips.

           “Are you okay?” He asked you.

           “Are you asking about my legs or…” You trailed of and Chanyeol chuckled.

           “Both.” He answered between chuckle, before his expression turned serious.

           You placed your phone aside, pulling your drink closer to you.

           “Legs are still feeling like jelly… I’ll just run a warm bath at home, it’ll get better after.” You explained to him, and he smiled.

           “And how are you feeling?” He asked, and you stayed quiet for a brief moment.

           Your lips parted with the plastic straw before you could lean your back against your seat.

           “Doing fine.” You forced a smile and Chanyeol sighed, leaning his arms against the table as he pushed himself forward.

           “(Y/N), I know you… you don’t have to lie about your feelings. Everything you’re feeling is valid, so don’t try to hide it.” Chanyeol said, only to make you feel like an invincible hand had slapped your face.

           You looked Down, playing with your thumbs before you look back up.

           “I don’t know what to feel Yeol…”

           “Talk to me then.” Chanyeol started, reaching his hand out to you, “It seems like you always forgot that you have me to lean on. You have me as someone who listens and understands you.” He said, and you could feel your heart racing, ready to cry again.

           You slowly shook your head, “I’m not good with telling my feelings.” You told him, with a smile and he sighed.

           “I know, but you have to know that I was—and until this day, will always be there for you, to listen to you. Through good and bad.” He pointed out and you nod your head.

           Chanyeol let out a heavy sigh before he could pull himself back, leaning against his seat.

           “I heard what people are saying about us—about you.” Chanyeol pressed and you pressed you lips tight together.

           “Aren’t you… hurt by that?” He asked again.

           “I am.”

           “Then say something.” Chanyeol quickly said, moving forward. “I’m worried about you, you know.” He added, but you just stayed quiet.

           Chanyeol shook his head as he leaned back against his seat. He knew that he was only getting frustrated with himself. Pushing you further won’t even get him anywhere near you to talk.

           Throughout the meal, Chanyel didn’t say anything else. He actually talked about classes and other things that doesn’t involved any campus gossips or social events. Chanyeol paid for the meal, even though you wanted to pay yours, he didn’t let you. And the drive back to your place, Chanyeol didn’t start any conversation, because he didn’t know what else to talk about.

           “Here we are.” He said, as he pulled into a stop in front of yoru house.

           “Thanks for taking me home.” You thanked him, and Chanyeol gave you his signature warm smile.

           “It’s not a problem at all.” He said before you could smile back at him. He grabbed your bag from the backseat before passing it to you and you took it.

           “Well, I’ll see you at the game?” You asked before chanyeol nodded his head.

           “You bet you will!” He said.

           You got out from the car, waved him a goodbye before you could walk straight into your house, without looking over your shoulder.

-

You stripped yourself from your clothes before you could dip yourself into the tub, filled with warm water and bath salt. After a long week (what feels like eternity) you decided that you deserve a nice, relaxing warm bath. With a can of soda on the stool and a speaker playing your favorite song. You leaned your back against the tub as you took a deep breath. With your eyes closed, you could feel those muscles relaxed before you heard your phone vibrated against the stool. You looked over to your phone before you could dry your hand with a towel and picked it up.

           “Hello?” You answered.

           “Hey, mind if I come over later?” You heard Chanyeol’s voice. You could hear the thumping music in the background as well, you’re guessing that he’s at a party.

           “Umm… yeah, what time will you be here?” You asked him.

           “Umm… around 20 minutes?”

           “Can you make it 30?” You asked him and you could feel the confusion in the silence between you and Chanyeol.

           “Umm… Okay, sure, I’ll be there in 30 minutes.” He said, before you hund up the phone.

           You placed your phone back onto the stool, leaning back before exhaling a heavy breath. You closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself down before sinking yourself into the warm water.

You put on a pair of shorts and an oversized grey t-shirt before you could dry your hair with a towel. You walked down the stairs to pour yourself a glass of orange juice before you heard Chanyeol’s roaring engine outside. You looked out through your window to see Chanyeol, coming out from his car before walking up to your door. You opened the door for Chanyeol and you were caught off guard as his arms were suddenly wrapped around you. Your hands were up in the air for a few seconds before you could place your palms on his back.

           “Yeol, what happened?” You asked him, getting worried. You tried to pull yourself away, but he just hugged you tighter, only to hide his face from you.

           “Yeol…” You whimpered, and you felt him shaking his head.

           “Yeol, at least let’s get inside first.” You told him, before he finally pulled himself away from you.

           “Okay.” You saw his red puffy eyes hiding behind his falling hair. He stepped inside before you could close the door behind you. You watched him as he kicked his shoes off and sat himself on the steps of the stairs, burying his face on his hands. You walked closer to him, kneeling yourself in front of him before you could slowly hold his hands.

           “Yeol, did something happen?” You asked him.

           “They keep talking crap.” He sniffed, but you didn’t seem to get where and what he was talking about. So you stayed quiet, to let him talk.

           “I was at Jongdae’s party, and people were just talking shit about us…” He started, as he looked up to you, and you quickly knew that it was mostly about you they were talking about. “I mean, most of them know you… they know you’re a closed book kind of person, but they still agree on what the other girls are saying.” He added. “The more I stayed, the more I want to punch someone in the face and just tell them that they don’t know anything—they don’t know you like I do!” He stated, only to tear up a bit more.

           You frowned as you watched him cry some more. You felt your eyes burning, you never thought that it bothers him that much. He’s the most precious person you’ve ever met in your life. You knew he would do anything to keep you away from getting hurt, from making you cry—he just wants you to be okay. But you didn’t realize it until now that he’s hurting. And you’re hurting him. You couldn’t contain your own tears from falling before you wrapped your around his neck. You buried your face on his shoulder before he could wrapped his arms around yours tightly. He shifted your weight so that you were sitting on his lap as you cried your heart out.

           “(Y/N)—”

           “Chanyeol I’m sorry…” You managed to say, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that I’m being selfish—I thought that… Maybe you would be happier with someone else, and what people saying are true... you deserve someone better than me!” You finally burst. “I know I should’ve been more open with you—I know I should have tell you everything, but I just didn’t want to burden you. I want you to enjoy your time with your friends, get into that study group, laugh and hang out with your friends all you want, I just didn’t want to disturb all of those moments with my problems.” You explained. “It’s not that I don’t care about you—I do care.I care about you—I love you, so much, but It seems like it came across to everybody like… like I don’t, but I actually do, but I just can’t really express those feelings for you… I’m sorry…” You cried as Chanyeol pulled you closer against his body as he hushed.

           “No, no, you don’t have to apologize…” Chanyeol whispered, as you felt his lips pressed against your temple. “I feel like I have to…” You whimpered, pulling you face away from his shoulder before you wipe the tears away with the palms of your hand. Chanyeol gently removed your hands from your face before he could wipe away your tears with his thumb.

           “I’m sorry some of the times I can’t express my feelings to you… I just didn’t want you to feel burden.” You told him, and Chanyeol shook his head.

           “It’s okay… I too, have to apologize, because I was being a bit clingy, and when I asked for the relationship to be over, I didn’t know what I was thinking—”

           “I should’ve stopped you.” You argued.

           “Did you want me to stay?” He asked.

           “I never wanted you to leave in the first place.” You confessed as a small smile appeared on his face. He planted a kiss on your forehead before he could embrace you in his arms and you let out a sigh.

           “I love you…” You whispered and you felt him nodding his head.

           “I know you do… I love you.” He said in a low voice, but clear enough to loosen your body, leaning into his arms even more.

           As you both were all cuddled in each other’s arms, you heard Chanyeol’s phone ringing before he groaned and pulled away from you to fish his phone from his pocket.

           “Yeah… No, no I’m back at my place… No, I don’t think I’ll be coming back there…” Then he chuckled, shaking his head, “Well, have fun without me, I’m staying in for the night… yeah, keep talking crap about her and I’m not coming back to that party forever!” Cahnyeol joked, and you knew that he was talking about you. “Alright… bye, see you tomorrow.” Chanyeol then hung up his phone. You looked at him as if asking who it was and what was he talking about.

           “It was Jongdae, he asked if I’m coming back to his place and that most of the people are taking part in truth or dare… and apparently some of the girls were looking for me as well.” He explained. When he didn’t saw your expression changed, he placed his hands on your face with a smile. “I told him I’m not coming back… I was hoping I could stay in with you tonight, you know, maybe just talk?”

           You nodded your head, leaning yoru head back against his shoulder.

           “Yes, you can stay here.” You told him as he hugged you tight.

           “Alright…” He kissed the top of your head as he slipped his arms under you before he could lift your whole weight. You yelped out an excitement as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

           “Let’s move to the couch, where we can cuddle comfortably.” He smiled.

-

the demands for this man is crazy high lmao, park chanyeol just being... park chanyeol i guess :) i’m sorry this came out super late, due to me being back with work and also classes. i work as a barista, so i don’t really bring my laptop to work every single day, so it’s kind of hard to find time to get back on writing and posting, so i’m so sorryy!! but i’m still writing, i just don’t know when the next update will be up, so stay tuned!! love you guys

[hongism]

the little things - c. jongho

↣ pairing: jongho x reader; mentioned poly ot8 x reader ↣ genre: sfw, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, fantasy au, witch ateez au ↣ wc: 3.6k ↣ summary: when the winters seem to drag and last forever, you find yourself slipping a bit into murky waters of despair. jongho is your lifeline, your lifesaver, your lifeboat, determined to guide you back to peaceful shores. ↣ warnings: mentions of intrusive thoughts, depression, lots of Talking about depression/grief/mourning, mentions of death/talking about someone who has died

The air bites harshly at your skin, nipping the areas where you can’t be bothered to pull your blanket up over, and if you were in a different emotional state, perhaps you would find it in you to care more. Instead, you remain rooted to the spot — a small stump behind your cottage that overlooks the quiet and expansive forest just over the lip of the hill. It’s a beautiful sight, even in the midst of winter like this where snow has just fallen and left a white sheen to the tips of the trees below you.

It would be wise for you to be inside just in case someone decides to climb the hill to your shop and request a prescription, but you know you will sense them coming before they even reach the stairs.

So, you stay where you are, letting your blanket slip a little more from your shoulders. Your guest — even the loud and boisterous one as he works — sings along to a silent melody, painting your ears with the pleasant sound of his voice as he moves freshly chopped wood to your dwindling pile by the house. Despite your attempts to help, he simply told you to stay put and not move a muscle while he chopped and moved them. Arguing with him would be a losing fight anyway.

In all honesty, as beautiful and delightful as the forest below you usually is, you cannot find it in you to see that beauty right now. Nothing seems to be working. All your wasted and helpless attempts to feel some type of way about your surroundings have failed time and time again. Either that or they are drowned out by that lingering ache in your chest, the one that clenches your heart tight in its clutches and pins you to the ground in a state of numbness that sadly is not foreign to you.

You wish you had a better explanation for that tightness in your chest. Whenever Seonghwa or Hongjoong asks after you and how you’re faring, you scrape by and say you are doing fine. Because yes, you are arguably fine. Not bad but not particularly good either. Just a middle ground of fine. (Nothing is ever truly fine in such a world where the word has become a cloak for how one truly feels, and you know both Hongjoong and Seonghwa can see right through your ruse each time you utter the words ‘I’m fine’. Neither push you further than that, however, so you don’t say anything else). Part of you feels the tuggings of guilt on your heartstrings when one of the others tries to cheer you up — Wooyoung with his playful jokes and endless tickle fights on the couch that end with you exhaling an exasperated sigh and leaving him there alone, San who does anything and everything to help but is too clumsy for his own good so he accidentally makes things worse, Yunho who tries his best to sit with you in absolute silence without moving while you read but inevitably cannot sit still for more than five minutes without doing something. So you do feel guilty for not being able to cheer up when they try their hardest to break that emotional wall around you.

It must be frustrating for them to have to deal with you while in such a state of emotional distortion and confusion; you aren’t sure whether you could be nearly as patient as they are with you (god, they are all so endlessly patient — another thing to feel guilty about). Yet you must admit that it is frustrating for you as well. Because as much as you want to be more than just fine or okay or whatever variation of “I’m not good, not bad, I don’t know what the fuck I am, I just am” you are on a certain day, you cannot will yourself into pushing those negative thoughts and feelings out of the picture. Almost like the thing holding you down has an anchor tied to your ankle and causes you to sink deeper and deeper each time you try to fight your way out of it.

Maybe you aren’t paying as much attention as you thought you were after all because when a firm hand reaches down to clasp around your shoulder, you are more than a little startled.

The little jump in your body as well as the sudden gasp that tears through your lips catches your companion off-guard too, it seems. Although Jongho is always a hard book to read; he doesn’t wear his feelings on his sleeve the way people like Wooyoung and San do. The slight and momentary widening of his eyes tells you all you need to know before you let yourself relax under his warm touch.

That’s another thing about Jongho — he is always so warm. Now, of course, you are fairly certain that part of that relates to him being an elemental witch, so obviously he will carry some extra warmth in his body because of those energies, but he holds a different kind of warmth with him as well. One that makes you believe for almost a second that it will be okay.

The sun flickering at the edge of the horizon.

Two swallows flitting across the bright and clear morning sky.

The rolling forest that rests at the foot of your hill.

It’s green today. The snow caps the trees just enough to leave hints of winter foliage peeking through.

Green and alive and beautiful.

Then the illusion breaks, like the anchor around your foot let up for just that moment to let you gasp in a desperate gulp of air and beauty before dragging you back into its abyss.

What a cruel, cruel mistress.

“Too cold?” Jongho inquires as he squats down beside you. A smile twists his lips, gentle and effervescent. (“Love,” your mind helpfully supplies, “he looks at you with love”).

“It’s not too bad today,” you reply in a quiet tone. There lies an alternate meaning to what you said, something contained and locked away in the box you call your heart, and Jongho takes that box into his hands so carefully as always. Sits down on the snow-covered ground without complaint beside your tiny stump and lets his hand slip down to rest over where your thigh meets your knee. It’s careful. Your lip twitches in some direction.

“That still implies it’s a little bad.”

You hum in response. There isn’t much for you to say to that even though he is unfortunately all too correct in saying such a thing.

“I chopped enough wood to last you through February. Should be a harsher winter than usual, so don’t hesitate to send for me if you need more before then.” You reach down to cover Jongho’s hand, tracing pointless and unknown patterns into the back of his hand. The touch is more for you than anything else; a peace of mind that allows you to disconnect the brutal reality of your pained chest from what is sitting right in front of you. Love, joy, care, warmth.

Why does your chest only grow colder in the face of something that burns so hot?

Jongho’s lips move again, and you are almost certain that he is speaking to you but the deep waters clog your ears and make it impossible to understand what he’s saying to you.

Why does this anchor never find a place to rest? You want to rest.

When you fail to respond or even acknowledge whatever Jongho has said in the slightest, he takes it upon himself to stand back up and nudge you away from your little stump. You are understandably confused by the action but too …absent to reality to complain or fight back against whatever he’s doing.

So you opt to simply stand off to the side and watch as Jongho brushes stray pieces of snow off your blanket. He wraps it snug back around your shoulders. It’s a bit warmer this time. Then, he guides you to the back door, hand closing around the soft white handle and pushing into the cottage without a word. This is just another language you speak. Understanding. Push and pull. The complex nature of working with an emotionally stunted and constipated individual who does not know how to communicate what exactly they are feeling or thinking in the moment.

You prefer to just exist rather than bog yourself down with such detailed intricacies — it makes things easier for you in the long run.

Once inside, Jongho continues to push you forward until you reach the positively tiny dining table you have set up next to the kitchen. Hardly an excuse for a dining table since it’s barely bigger than your bedside table but then again it’s made to seat you and only you. That doesn’t stop Jongho from pulling a second chair up to slot into the space directly to the right of your chair. Again you do not fight him when he eases you down onto the soft ivory cushion.

Instinct causes you to shift and look out the window above your table, finding the first few flakes of the morning snow beginning to fall. You wonder if Jongho sensed the weather shifting or if it’s merely happenstance that brought you both inside before the snow started.

“Seonghwa went on a rampage and cleaned the house again,” Jongho murmurs. He follows your gaze out the window but doesn’t say anything more than that, leaving the conversation open and hanging onto a hope for your response.

“Is he worried over Hongjoong?”

“No more than usual. You know how he gets. Can’t sit still even when you ask him to.” You shift to look at Jongho, noting the smile that curls at the corners of his lips, and this time you return the gesture with a lopsided grin of your own. “All before sunrise too.”

“He always has to be the first to wake up, otherwise he doesn’t get to tell you that you’re his darling sunrise.”

Jongho’s smile stretches wider and shows off his gums and teeth. It’s beautiful, you think, somewhere in the back of your mind that remains untouched by that cold sadness. Happiness looks good on Jongho — warm, alive, and beautiful. You wonder if it looks the same on your features as well, if it were ever to come back to you.

“Shall I prepare some tea?”

“You’re beginning to sound like Yeosang.”

“Maybe all those naps on the couch are finally starting to have weird side effects on me.” Jongho shrugs then laughs under his breath, but the sound is still clear and bright on your ears. He pushes back from the table to step into your small kitchen nonetheless, not waiting for your answer to his question as he begins to rummage through your cabinets.

“That would make sense; you’re his favorite after all.”

“Hm, I think Seonghwa has me beat there.”

“Only because of their familiar bond. Otherwise, I’m positive you would take the cake.” You prop your elbows up on the edge of the table, leaning forward until your chin rests atop your clenched fists, and you simply watch Jongho move around the kitchen with little on your mind for a bit. He’s quiet again; this time, he doesn’t speak as he works, and it allows you to stew in the silence while you can. You have to remind yourself that sometimes it’s like this. Some days are harder than others. Some days are easier, and some are like today where you can’t even manage to pinpoint the source of your negative feelings.

You glance over at the wall, staring hard at the small chalkboard that sits there with your messing scrawling and intelligible handwriting. Then your stare settles on today’s date. The small red circle around the number placed in roman numerals there. You left no other note there, no indication of what the red circle means, but after several years of practicing said habit, the knowledge is deeply ingrained in your mind now.

“Ah…” you exhale without thinking. You don’t notice the way Jongho’s gaze flickers over to you, how his hand hesitates near the kettle, or how he follows your stare to the calendar. You’re far too engrossed in the swarm of hurt in your chest. Suddenly your shifting moods make much more sense. “Another year, another birthday passed.”

The day always feels so odd and cathartic to you. A day one is supposed to celebrate that has long since grown cold and lonely because the one you are meant to be celebrating is nothing present. Birthdays are almost worse than the other melancholy anniversary that hasn’t left your mind.

You force your gaze away from the calendar to look back at where Jongho stands frozen as a statue in the kitchen.

“Did you… remember?” You ask. Jongho doesn’t typically come over unannounced, but he rarely explains why he comes to visit either. He did neither again today. It is far more understandable now that you’ve finally realized what day it is.

“I did,” he whispers back before settling back into his routine of making tea. “I did not want to mention it unless you brought it up first.”

His tone is careful and wary, like he’s treading on broken glass and trying not to make the damage worse. You are almost grateful for it.

“It’s okay,” you say through a strained smile. “At least I know why I’m feeling this way now.”

Next thing you know, Jongho is abandoning his station at the stove, leaving the kettle behind to heat up, and he returns to your side within seconds. Although this time, he merely stands beside your chair and brings his hands down to cradle your face in his rough and warm hands. You can’t understand why until his thumbs brush something damp away from your cheeks. You don’t even remember feeling the tears spring up.

“It’s okay.”

You nearly snap back and say it’s not okay, why would it be okay if you’re crying like this? But then it hits you that Jongho is not implying the situation is okay or that it is not something to be upset over. Rather, he’s telling you that it’s okay to cry like this, to be affected and hurt and in pain. You wish you could believe it.

“I thought it would get easier as more time passed.” You keep your tone quiet, knowing that if you lift your voice any higher it will begin to crack and break.

“Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t. But I think you’ve made lots of progress as it is.” Jongho squats down until most of his weight is pushed onto his toes, sitting just beneath your eye level now. His hands don’t drift from your face for a second though, and right now, you couldn’t be more grateful for the warmth of his touch. “It’s not always about measuring the pain or comparing how much it hurts not to how much it hurt back then. Sometimes it’s about being able to see how you’ve grown and how you can look back at memories that were once painful with fondness now. And occasionally, it’s about being able to look at the calendar and smile because you know you get to celebrate a life and a soul that you still cherish.”

“What if one day I look at that calendar and don’t remember though? I don’t want to forget, but I want to be okay.” You suck your lower lip between your teeth and bite down hard on the skin. It doesn’t help with your sudden influx of tears (not that you expected it to) but Jongho wipes them away with each one that falls.

“Is that what you’re afraid of? Forgetting?”

“Y-Yeah. I get… I get upset because — I don’t know. Part of me feels guilty to even want to be okay when I know that he didn’t get to be. He didn’t have the chance to be okay, he was gone before he had that, and I’m here and I just… feeling a lot less deserving of that.”

Jongho shifts his weight to rest on his knees now, and he pulls you a bit further down to still comfortably hold your face between his palms.

“Would he want you to punish yourself for something out of your control? Or would he want you to rest in the knowledge that he is okay now? Resting easy after a long fight and at peace because he did well in his life? Even if that life did not last as long as we might have hoped, he still did well and worked hard and showed a life that was full of many beautiful things, no?”

“You’re right,” you murmur, eyes flitting away from Jongho’s ever so gentle ones. “I’m thankful for the time I had with him, even if it wasn’t as long as I imagined it would be. He’s at peace and he’s resting and okay now. Just the selfish part of me isn’t ready to let go.”

“You don’t ever have to let go, darling. Not completely. And if you don’t want to let go, then that gives me confidence that you won’t forget him or the memories of him. He will always be resting here.” Jongho’s left hand falls to rest over your heart, fingers barely brushing against the soft material of your clothes there. You instinctively reach over to cover his hand with one of your own and press him closer and closer until his palm lies flat against your chest. “He would want you to find the peace you deserve even if he isn’t here on earth anymore.”

“I’m trying my best to remember that,” you counter. The words come out a bit choked and thick thanks to your tears but you push through that and continue speaking nonetheless. “I’m trying to remember that he would want us to celebrate him and remember him fondly, not just the sad parts or the tragedy. He wouldn’t want to be remembered as something sad or a tragedy, and he wouldn’t want to only be remembered when times are sad. I just feel like I’m drowning in these feelings and can’t get out sometimes.”

“In times of grief, we often let ourselves sink because we lose ourselves in the feelings of pain and sadness. It’s easier to get lost in it than it is to fight your way out of it, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. There’s always a way out. Sometimes you just need someone to hold your hand and help guide you home.”

“I want to go home,” you whisper. It sounds utterly stupid to say aloud since you are sitting in your own damn kitchen right now, you are home physically, of course you are, and you are more than well aware of that. Still, your heart feels like it’s torn from your chest and off who knows where with no hope of coming home, yet Jongho just twists his hand around and takes hold of yours. You cling to your lifeline harder.

“Do you trust us to stand by you until you find your way home?”

“Always.”

“Then I promise that’s exactly what we’ll do.” Jongho pulls your hand close to his face, then presses his lips to your knuckles. The gesture is soft and intimate, even moreso with the knowledge that Jongho isn’t one to typically engage in such physical affection often, and you feel some warmth creep into your chest again.

“Will you stay even after that?” You ask through a breathless whisper, bracing your hands on Jongho’s firm shoulders and offering a teary smile. Jongho pushes up, and his head bumps haphazardly into your shoulder as he moves suddenly. It causes you to tip back a bit, nearly falling all the way off the chair, but he catches you before you can slip. It’s not a verbal answer, nor do you need it to be because you’d like to think you can understand what Jongho means in the movements without hearing him say it. “Thank you for being patient with me. All of you are so patient and gentle with me.”

“I think this is where Seonghwa would say something grossly sappy like ‘that’s part of being in love’,” Jongho murmurs before his forehead finds purchase against yours. You let your eyes flutter shut and rest in the gentle embrace. “Thank you for opening your heart to me.” You hum back, not bothering with words in favor of just drinking in Jongho’s presence. “The kettle is boiling away, you know.”

“Let me have this for just a few moments more.”

“Always,” Jongho sighs against you, but it’s not a tired or exasperated sound, merely content in the peaceful space the two of you have created. You’re content as well — okay for now, fine for now, but maybe even leaning more on doing well and feeling good. Not perfect, although you don’t think it needs to be perfect as long as you have the hopes of reaching safe shores.

...

a/n: this came at an opportune time i think? april 7th/8th is always difficult for me and i know many people can relate to that well and understand that feeling, and i kinda unintentionally reflected those feelings into this part of little things, but i hope maybe that you can find comfort in this and understand how important and valid your feelings are, no matter what ❤❤

[motherjoel]

from heaven above (spencer reid x fem!reader)

summary: you go into labor while spencer’s on a case, not answering his phone

a/n: i honestly say penelope garcia rights in my fics fdsbkfna i always give her the spotlight. also idk anything about birth, forgive me

wc: 2.2k

warnings/includes: idk just birth dfjhbfjh

-

Your due date wasn’t for two weeks- Spencer was supposed to be home and you were supposed to have this baby with him. In two weeks. You weren’t allowed on planes, so you stayed with Garcia at the office towards the end of your pregnancy, working from there. You had been sitting in a chair next to her when you felt your water break.

“Uh, Pen?” you asked, looking in shock down at your legs.

“Yes, my beautiful glowing goddess of nature and all things holy?” she asked, eyes still glued to the screen. After you didn’t answer for a moment, still in shock, she turned to look at you with concern. She followed your gaze down to see what you were internally freaking out about. Her eyes widened as she gasped. “Okay, Y/N, wow this is happening!” she yelled, frantically running around the batcave, looking for god knows what.

“I have to- I gotta call Spence,” you said, taking out your phone and dialing the number of your husband. After a few rings, you were sent to voicemail.

“They might be on the jet, oh no, oh my gosh,” said Penelope, freaking out even more than you were.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, uh, I guess it’s a girls day!” you shouted, trying to make light of the incredibly stressful situation.

“Oh, you know I love a girls day,” Penelope replied with a nervous laugh, helping you up and guiding you to grab your bags from your desk. “Move everyone! Get out of the way, mother nature is calling!” Penelope shouted at the others in the office. You laughed lightly at the shocked faces, stopping midway as you faced one of your contractions. 

“Garcia it’s happening!” you said, taking a seat in a nearby chair as you squeezed her hand, riding out your first contraction.

“It’s okay honey, I got you,” she said, repeating comforting words until you were finished. Once you were done, she quickly guided you into her car and sped off to the hospital. The entire way there you were grabbing onto the door handle for dear life, repeatedly calling Spencer and praying he’d pick up eventually. They were scheduled to land soon, but this baby was coming and it was coming fast. You both rushed into the hospital and were immediately put into a room, where you were basically told to ride out the contractions until you were dilated enough to push. You had given up calling Spencer, figuring he’d just call you back when you landed. Penelope, however, decided to call the rest of the team a million times over until Morgan actually answered.

“Derek! Is Spencer there, please tell me Spencer’s there,” she said, putting her phone on speaker. You were on high alert now.

“Calm down baby girl, yeah he’s right next to me,” Derek said, defensively.

“Then tell me why the HELL he isn’t answering his phone!” you yelled as you felt a contraction coming on.

“Oh god,” said Morgan over the phone, you could hear shuffling as he handed it to Spencer.

“Y/N? Is everything okay? My phone died,” Spencer said, worry laced in his voice. You responded by screaming- this was a particularly bad contraction. You were also annoyed at his neglect to charge his phone. 

“It’s happening Reid, the baby genius is gonna pop,” said Penelope, looking at you with concern. You heard Spencer tell Morgan to change directions and drive to the hospital.

“We’re on the way! I promise, I’ll be there Y/N,” Spencer said, feeling extremely guilty.

“Hurry!” you cried, taking the phone from Penelope and hanging up. Your contraction had ended, but they were coming more frequently now and you had little patience.

“Damn girl, you tell him,” said Garcia at an attempt to lighten the mood. You could only offer a weak laugh, already exhausted from the day you’d had.

-

“Derek hurry up,” Spencer said from the passenger's seat, urgently shaking his leg.

“I’m going as fast as I can pretty boy, I promise you’ll be there in time,” Derek said, having already turned on the lights and sirens. JJ and Emily were in the back seat, with Hotch and Rossi following them in a separate car- none of them were going to miss this. Spencer couldn’t help but feel extremely guilty for not being with you. He had tried to stay at home but you insisted he go on the case, him being an asset and a genius and all. 

“I should’ve just stayed home, god I’m an idiot. I should have taken into consideration that 26% of births occur at 37 to 38 weeks, I should've known!” Spencer said, scrutinizing himself. JJ reached up from the seat behind him, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Spence, there was no way of knowing about this,” JJ said in her best motherly tone.

“Yeah, Y/N told you to go on the case and you saved lives! Now it’s time to bring one of your own into the world,” Emily finished, surprisingly thoughtful. Spencer just nodded, trying to maintain his sanity.

-

“Penelope, I don’t think they’re gonna make it,” you said, near tears at the thought of your husband being absent for the birth of your child. Garcia smoothed your hair back and held your hand, doing her best to comfort you.

“He will be here Y/N. And hell, if he’s not, we’ll just continue this girls day into the delivery room!” she said, successfully lightening the mood.

“You’d do that? You’d come with me?” you asked, looking at your best friend in awe.

“Of course. Anything for you, my dear. I’ll even push for you,” she said as you went into another painful contraction, squeezing her hand even harder than before. Soon after, the doctor came in to check your dilation.

“Well, it looks like you’re just about ready to push!” she said with a smile. Panic spread throughout your entire body.

“No, no! He’s not here, Penny he’s not here,” you said through tears, looking up at Penelope. Her heart broke at the sight. The doctor looked at you for a moment, unsure of what to do.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but if we wait any longer you migh-” she was cut off by a breathless and sweaty Spencer running into the room.

“I’m here! I’m here!” he said, running to your side and placing a kiss on your sweaty forehead. You grabbed his hand and looked into his eyes- you were positive you had never looked worse, but he looked at you like it was your wedding night. Penelope quickly left to find the rest of the team in the waiting room as you were pushed into the delivery room.

 “Are you ready?” asked the doctor. You took one more look into Spencer’s eyes- eyes that were panicked, excited, worried, and elated all at the same time. You were ready. You both were. You breathed out a quick “yes” before you began to push, squeezing onto Spencer’s hand for dear life. You pushed and you pushed until the doctor told you you could stop. You let out a sigh, knowing that it was only the beginning.

“You’re gonna be okay, we’re doing this Y/N,” Spencer said with a smile. You glared at him. “I mean, you’re doing this. It’s all you, baby,” he said and you reached up to kiss him quickly on the lips before pushing again. You screamed so loud you were sure the entire team could hear you from the waiting room.

-

“She was so nervous, I hope they’re okay in there,” Penelope said, pacing around the waiting room.

“She was nervous? You should’ve seen pretty ricky! I thought he was about to hop out of the car and run to the hospital,” Derek said, earning light laughter from the team.

“I remember when Jack was born,” said Hotch. “I was a nervous wreck, the nurses had to get me ice chips,” he joked, which was rare from him, but the nervous energy warranted it. Everyone was silent for a few minutes, all lost in thought. Rossi spoke up first, saying what they were all thinking.

“I can’t believe the kid is having a kid,” he said, earning a chorus of agreement.

“It feels like just yesterday I was asking him if he ever wanted to have baby geniuses,” Emily laughed in reminiscence.

“And little did we know that when Y/N joined the team, she’d be his angel sent from heaven above,” said Garcia dreamily. Everyone nodded at her dramatics, but overall agreed- you really did save Spencer in his time of need, whether you admitted it or not.

-

With one last push and the encouragements from your sweet husband, you were done- your baby girl was finally outside of you. Only, you felt like something was wrong. 

“Spence, why isn’t she crying,” you asked, tears of exhaustion and sweat dripping down your face.

“I don’t kn- hey, why isn’t she crying?” Spencer panicked, trying to get the attention of a nurse who was frantically running around, paying little attention. He tried to push his panic down as he turned back to your worried face.

“Is she okay, is my baby okay?” you yelled, now crying from emotion. Spencer shushed you and stroked your face, promising she was fine (he had no idea if she was fine, but all he wanted to do was comfort you). After a few moments of intense silence, you finally heard it- the wail of your newborn child. You exhaled in relief, Spencer doing the same. You pulled him down into a hug, the exhaustion from exerting your body making you extremely drowsy. The doctor came over and handed her to you. Spencer stood next to you, his fingers lightly brushing her small tuft of hair. He was astonished- to him, she looked exactly like the both of you (maybe he was delusional from his lack of sleep, because he would normally argue that newborns were wrinkly and unidentifiable).

“She’s beautiful,” Spencer cried, kissing you on the cheek.

“She is, she really is,” you said with relief.

-

After you had spent a few moments alone with the baby, Spencer made his way out into the waiting room where the entire team was anxiously sitting- they stood when they saw him.

“It’s a girl!” he yelled, lifting his arms over his head in excitement. The team whooped and hollered, Derek even lifting Spencer off of his feet in a hug. “You guys can come see her, if you’d like,” he said, the team excitedly shuffling into your room behind him.

“Hi guys!” you said weakly, holding your beautiful baby girl. Everyone quietly walked over to your bedside, cooing at the baby. Rossi reached out his finger and she latched on tight. “Looks like she loves grandpa Rossi already,” you laughed.

“Grandpa?!” he almost yelled, jokingly offended at your statement. The team laughed and Hotch patted him on the back.

“Have you guys thought of any names yet?” asked JJ, who was bending down and grabbing her small feet. 

“Well,” you said, sharing a look with your husband. “Her name is Marie, after Marie Curie,” you said, as if it was obvious. “And her middle name is… Penelope,” you said, earning a gasp from Penelope, her hand on her heart. “The woman who was willing to push this baby out for me,” you laughed. Garcia pushed her way through the team and bent down next to you.

“I am going to love this child like it’s my own. I call the first babysitting gig!” she yelled, looking around at the team with daggers in her eyes (as if anyone was going to fight her on it). 

The team had stayed for a while longer before heading home, deciding to leave the two of you alone. Spencer climbed into the hospital bed next to you, his long legs almost hanging over the edge. You held Marie for the longest time, both of you staring lovingly at her and already planning her future.

“Obviously she’s gonna be a genius, I mean look at the way she grabbed Rossi’s finger earlier,” you said, playing with her hands.

“Well if she takes after you too, she’ll be a beautiful genius,” Spencer whispered into your ear and you laughed.

“Spence, we already have one hot genius in the family, what am I gonna do surrounded by a bunch of nobel peace prize winning supermodels?” you asked, looking up at Spencer with heart eyes. He just leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on your lips, soaking in the first moments of fatherhood. He was making the perfect family for himself- the family he never had, and he couldn’t have done it with anyone but you.

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 12: Capsaicin

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Maybe he wrote her address wrong.

The odds of that happening are pretty damn slim; Mulder’s had it down by heart for years, but he’s grasping at all possibilities right now.

He had sent the letter through the postal service in an attempt to keep himself from stressing out over its delivery, but that plan backfired the minute the envelope left his hands.

He dropped it in the mail on Saturday evening. It’s now Wednesday, and Scully has made no mention of it. There’s been no indication in her demeanor at all to suggest that she’d received any revelatory mail-pieces.

He might live the rest of his life in this horrific limbo, a purgatory of his own construction. He’s been on pins and needles all week, filling the basement office with nervous energy, furtively glancing at Scully in attempts to read her facial expressions. Did she get the letter and throw it out? How is she so calm? Maybe it got stuck in one of the sorting machines…

Before he knows it, Scully’s bidding him a friendly “goodnight” and shutting the office door.

Say what you will about anxiety, but it sure spices up the workday.

Mulder drives home in a fog; he’s exhausted from the mental exertion of thinking in circles and jumping to conclusions. Inside his apartment he flops down on the sofa and calls for takeout from the Thai place down the street that has his order memorized.

The next time he confesses his undying love to somebody, he’s going to use e-mail.

A knock on his door shakes him from his reverie.

“How much do I owe-” he begins as he opens the door, then freezes.

Scully is standing at his doorstep, a high flush on her cheeks. She looks somehow startled, as though he surprised her by opening his own front door.

“Scully,” he says, concerned. “Are you alright?”

“Mulder,” she replies, voice cracking on the edges. Her big blue eyes are full, ready to spill over her lower lids.

Oh.

“You read it,” he says softly. He feels his chest tighten into a tight knot of anxiety, and he swallows hard.

She nods. “Can I- I need to come in.”

He stands aside, ushers her into his living room.

She’s vibrating with nervous energy. Mulder motions to the couch. “Would you, uh, like to sit down?”

“I’d prefer to stand, thank you,” she says, voice tight. She grips her elbows.

“Well, I guess I’ll sit,” Mulder says softly, lowering himself to the couch. “Scully, I-“

She holds out a hand. “You got to say your piece, Mulder, now it’s time for mine.” Her lower lip crumples slightly, and he wants to get up and hug her.

She takes a deep breath, pulling herself together. “Mulder, when I received your letter today…” She blinks back tears. “I was completely overwhelmed. I’m not even sure how I managed to drive here,” she admits. “And I appreciate that in it you acknowledged the inopportune timing of your confession. Things just keep piling up,” she says. “But now I just want to know, need to know… why the hell did you wait so long?”

There’s pain in her voice, and he aches in return.

“I didn’t know how you felt,” he says simply, “and then Mark happened.” It’s so insufficient, but it’s all he has.

“I wish you’d told me before,” she says. “I wish I’d known. I dragged you into this mess with him, and the whole time you… you felt that for me.”

“Scully,” he says slowly, “If I had told you I loved you, would you have still gone out with Mark?”

She doesn’t answer right away, and his heart falls into his stomach.

“How can you ask me that?” she says, voice a rough whisper. “What do you want me to say?”

Say no. Please. “I’m only interested in the truth, Scully. You of all people know that by now.”

A tear spills down her cheek, and she wipes it away roughly. “I… I don’t know. Do you have any idea how long and hard I worked to not feel? I’d wake up every damn morning thinking about you. I’d scrub myself raw in the shower so you couldn’t smell me, sense how much I wanted you all fucking night. I’d come to work and turn my heart off, bury my feelings so deep that even now I can barely scratch the surface of them. I did it for years, Mulder.” She takes a deep, shaky breath. “So when my mother introduced me to a nice man with a little girl, I decided to go for it. And I almost forget how to really feel something. But you… you never let me forget. And the rational choices cease to make sense.” She sniffs noisily. “You turned my entire world upside down.”

He hangs his head. “I’m sorry-” he begins.

“No,” Scully interrupts. “No, Mulder. I don’t want your guilt, or your pity; I don’t need it. I want you, and me. I want us to be the two broken people we are, healing. We can’t keep hurting each other with misguided attempts to protect each other.”

“What do you mean, then? How do we stop?”

“By being honest,” she says, coming around the coffee table and perching on the edge of the couch. “We start here. Right now.”

“I-I don’t know how much more clear or honest I could possible be,” Mulder stammers. “The letter spelled it out. My cards are on the table.”

“They are,” she agrees, “But you wrote under the assumption that I wouldn’t reciprocate. You left no room for alternatives.”

“Alternatives being…”

Scully’s eyes are pleading. “Mulder,” she whispers, beseeching.

There’s a knock on the door.

Mulder glances over his shoulder, startled out of their moment. “I ordered Thai,” he explains. “If you’re here, then that must be the delivery guy,” he says.

Scully nods. “Likely.” She gets up from the sofa and crosses to the desk, fetching the tissue box there. “You should-”

“Answer the door, yeah,” Mulder agrees absently, standing and feeling his pockets for his wallet.

The bored teenager on the other side of the door holds the bag out. “Sixteen forty-nine,” he says.

“Give him a twenty,” Scully instructs from the living room, blowing her nose.

Mulder digs a bill out of his wallet and hands it to the delivery guy. “You and the Mrs have a good night,” the boy says, stifling a yawn as he shoves the money into the pack on his waist.

“That tip was what, twenty-five percent?” Mulder grouses, setting the bag on the coffee table.

“Oh, so you can do math,” Scully says, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. “So what’s your excuse for being a lousy tipper, then?”

“Spoken like a former waitress,” Mulder mumbles.

“You’re goddamn right,” Scully says. “Best IHOP server in San Diego.”

Her bravado contrasts sharply with her puffy eyes and watery voice, and Mulder wants to pull her into his arms and never let go.

“You want any of this?” he asks, pulling steaming cartons out of the bag. “There’s plenty for both of us, and if you don’t eat I’ll feel like a crappy host.”

She sits back down on the couch, setting the tissue box on the coffee table. “If you don’t mind sharing,” she concedes.

“I’ll grab you a fork,” he replies, giving her knee a squeeze.

They eat quietly, passing cartons between them, migrating together until they’re shoulder to shoulder in the center of the couch.

“So,�� Mulder says, “Before the food got here, we were talking about something pretty important.”

Scully nods, turning her fork to wind noodles around the tines. “That we were,” she agrees.

“About honesty,” he prompts. “Alternatives.”

Scully sets her fork down, closes her eyes. “This… this is difficult for me, Mulder. It’s surreal; I didn’t expect this outcome for us. For you to… to feel the way you do,” she clarifies.

“On the contrary,” Mulder says, “I feel like this was always going to happen, from the day we met. Somewhere deep in my mind I knew I was going to fall in love with you.”

Scully looks at him then, eyes wide.

“Th-that’s the first time I’ve said that aloud,” he says in realization, eyes not leaving hers.

Scully nods. “How’d it feel?” she asks softly.

Mulder licks his lip. “Kinda depends on how it felt for you,” he responds, voice low.

She takes a deep breath. “Call me crazy, but I think I need to hear it again.”

He nods, then on impulse leans in until his mouth is next to her ear, strands of coppery hair tickling his cheek. “I’m in love with you,” he murmurs.

Scully reflexively grips the edge of the couch cushion. “Don’t,” she warns, voice husky and breathier than he expected. “I’m not ready.”

He draws back. “Ready for what?” he asks.

She smoothes her hair behind her ear. “You,” she says simply, looking him up and down out of the corner of her eye. She picks up her fork and takes another bite of noodles. “I’ve spent so long in denial, Mulder, I feel… flammable. Like the smallest spark could just…” she motions to herself. “Destroy my equilibrium, or something.”

“Is this the official medical terminology? Because I’m not familiar,” he quips.

She huffs a laugh. “No, Mulder. What I’m trying to say is that I think we should go slow. Whatever ‘going’ means, in this case.”

“But we are a we,” he clarifies.

“Yes, I think we are,” Scully says tenderly, facing him again. “I… I want to be. But I’m processing things, so I need you to give me time.”

You can have my whole life. “That’s fine by me,” he assures her. “So you think we have a spark, Scully?”

She licks her upper lip, nodding. “Oh yes,” she says, eyes flicking down to his mouth. “Yes, we do.”

He leans back into the couch cushions. “Well then,” he says, eyeing her lazily, “When you feel like starting some fires… I’m your boy.”

[sulphuryasecretcloset]

What if...? Part 8

Yeah, so we ended up with 9 parts (plus possibly an epilogue, depending on how long 9 turns out) instead of 4... or 5... or 7/8... As I said; I’ve given up restraining this story as you lovely, lovely enablers kept throwing encouraging fuel to the writing fire and muse molotovs at me. The comments and reblogs are cat nip to a writer and I am a weak, weak soul who can only say; thank you so much <3

-

What if Dulsissia hadn’t died, what if she had grabbed Corin and fled? What if she met Davarax? What if…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Part 8

Davarax has to be tired and Dulsissia can see places on his underarmor that is scorched and torn, which tells her he probably has new scars to join his old ones, but he ignores it all in favour of catching up with what has happened in the children’s lives.

Paz doesn’t seem to mind the others bombarding him with questions too, especially about the helmet, he’s grown even taller and seem to have gained some muscle, but Dulsissia feels a tiny twinge in her heart at that he also seem more quiet and subdued than before.

Maybe it is just the side-effect of having spent over a year with his father that close? Maybe things will become more normal now that Paz is back with the other children? Dulsissia hopes so. But she wouldn’t place any credits on it.

It’s surprisingly difficult to let go of them when the time comes, so Dulsissia aims the words to herself as much as the children when she explains that Davarax and Paz need to rest for a bit. And, yeah, get cleaned up. But how about they have a welcome home meal later?

It’s a bittersweet event. Dulsissia wants to kick herself when she watches Paz sit by the table and be unable to eat anything. His t-visor rests occasionally on the food, but he doesn’t comment on it.

Needing to distract herself from the sight, Dulsissia turns to Barthor. “Can you hand me the water, baby?”

Sighing as if greatly put upon, Barthor reaches out and hands her the water pitcher. “You know, I’m going to be the next to get the helmet. I’m not a baby, so maybe not refer to me as one?”

A completely irrational burst of anger flares up inside her and Dulsissia snaps her fingers at him. “Hey.” She snaps her fingers at the rest of them, gaining everyone’s attention. “I’m going to make something perfectly clear here and now. You? You are all my babies. All of you. I don’t care how old you are, how many helmets you put on, whatever right or wrong you do, whether you’re fifty and have babies of your own, even grandbabies, I don’t care; I’m going to call you my babies. Deal with it.”

Barthor flushes a deep red, Din blinks wide-eyed, Raga shrugs and Corin merely keeps eating as he resigned himself to his fate years ago. Paz… She has no idea how he responds. He looks at her, but the helmet hides his expression and he remains silent.

“I assume that includes me as well then?” Davarax drawls, leaning back in his chair. “Since you said ‘all of you’? Nice. I’m going to be the first baby ever with stubbles.”

That has the children laughing and Dulsissia to be the one blushing. She gathers herself and looks directly into his t-visor. “I guess so. Baby.”

The children laugh even more, but Davarax picks up on the suggestive tone of her voice and she can almost see him choke on his smugness. Hah.

At the end of the evening, Dulsissia makes sure to bundle up some of the food in a box that she hands to Paz by the door. “Here you go. I added some sweets too. Don’t tell the others.”

Paz huffs a faint laugh. He’s clearly spent time with Davarax too, by the sound of it. Then, after a moment of hesitation, Paz moves forward, slides his arms around her waist and hugs her close.

Closing her eyes, Dulsissia instantly leans down to wrap her own arms around him. “Welcome home, baby.” She whispers and her heart aches when she feels a faint shiver go through him.

And when the boy doesn’t let go, keeps holding on to her, a little too tight, Dulsissia has to fight the urge to try to pick Paz up and carry him like she’ll do to the smaller children.

Eventually Paz does let go, steps away and reaches out a hand, which Raga is quick to take and the children start to flood out of the room, until it is only Corin left, who starts cleaning off the table, and Dulsissia who walks over to the door to say good night to Davarax.

Leaning against the door frame, he reaches out and tucks a lock her hair behind her ear. “I really did miss you.” His voice so very soft and gentle.

Dulsissia struggles to look up at his t-visor, smiling. “Good.” She tugs lightly at the fabric just above his breastplate. “Because I missed you too. Are you okay? I saw the damage to your clothes.”

“Yeah, just minor injuries. Had to clean up a little rabble, but with Dez going through them like a hammerhead corvette, they weren’t a problem for long.”

Long enough for Davarax to be injured. Does Paz have scars too now? Dulsissia feels another rush of gratitude that they’d made it home. “You’re going to stay for a while now, right?”

“Absolutely.” Davarax’ gloved fingers come up to touch her lips for the briefest of seconds, then his hand move over to cup her face and he leans down so they can ever so gently touch foreheads, a modest touch in front of Corin’s suspicious eyes. “Good night, Dulcy.” He straightens and looks over at Corin. “Good night, Corin.”

“Good night,” Corin replies, “I’m glad you’re home again.”

“Me too.” Davarax replies, takes a final glance at Dulsissia and then walks back to his own room.

Knowing he’s right across the hall and yet also aware of how he needs to rest more than… anything else leaves Dulsissia squirming in her bed all night and very grumpy in the morning.

-

Her bad mood doesn’t get to last long. She and Corin have barely eaten breakfast before there is a knock on her door and she finds an uncharacteristically energetic Davarax.

“If you have something planned today, cancel it.” He blurts out.

Blinking wide-eyed, Dulsissia then raises an eyebrow. “Okay?”

Davarax turns to leave, but pauses and looks back at her. “And maybe tomorrow too. Yeah, cancel tomorrow too.”

He’s gone before she can ask any questions so she sends her son a quizzical look.

Corin looks equally puzzled and can merely shrug in response.

It’s about two hours later that Davarax appears again. He’s got a bag hanging on his right shoulder and the other children with bags of their own behind him. “We’re heading out.”

Curious, Corin wanders over to where Dulsissia is standing in the doorway and she automatically yanks him close so not get infected by whatever insanity has struck Davarax. “Out? Who? Where?”

“You, me, the kids.” Davarax gestures.

Dulsissia shakes her head, confused and increasingly worried. “But… it’s not allowed. Is it?”

“Not usually, no.” Davarax admits, gesturing her to come with them. “But I, uh, asked nicely.”

“We did it once before.” Raga pipes up, all smiles and excitement. “It was awesome!”

To her surprise, Dulsissia sees even Din is almost bouncing with happy energy. She looks over at her son, who is increasingly affected by the insanity despite her best efforts. He is grinning up at her with a hopeful look on his little face.

“Please, mommy? Please?”

“We’ll look after you two.” Paz declares.

Dulsissia looks over at Davarax, who tilts his head a little and says; “Trust me?”

Sighing, she shrugs. “Okay.”

It’s unnerving to to leave the Covert with the kids in tow. Heading into Nevarro by herself is scary enough, which means Dulsissia is ready to fire her blaster at her own shadow if it so much as looks at the children wrong.

Davarax leads them out of the city, he seems relaxed and confident enough, and Dulsissia actually feels a hint of fondness when she sees the less-than-shiny ship that had brought her and her son to safety.

Din actually runs ahead and Davarax presses the button on his vambrace to lower the ramp for the boy. And of course, where Din goes, Corin follows.

“I don’t get his fascination with that ship.” Barthor drawls, before casting a quick glance up at Davarax. “No offence.”

Davarax hums. “You’re riding in the back for that one, kiddo.”

“Oh, come on!” Barthor whines and Raga cackles at his misfortune before she jumps up on Paz’ back and he carries her on board the ship.

The surprises continue when the Razor Crest do not set course for space but heads west and keeps going west. Dulsissia peeks out the transparisteel, trying to tell herself not to be worried that Davarax is letting Din fly the ship more or less by himself and is fascinated by how the volcanic landscape turns more and more green and lush. Soon there are rivers and trees and even animal life.

It’s beautiful.

“Do you see it?” Davarax asks, standing next to to the pilot seat, one hand on Din’s shoulder and one hand on Corin’s shoulder as he stands next to the Mandalorian; mute with awe.

“I see it.” Din replies, flicking some switches and pressing some buttons. “Going in for landing.”

Davarax turns his head and shouts to the ones in the cargo area: “Buckle in, womp rats! We’re about to land!”

In her usual seat, Dulsissia flinches a little at the loudness but waves off Davarax’ sheepish apology.

She’s curious now. What is this place?

The landing is bumpy and a little scary, she can see Davarax about to intervene, but Din does manage to set the ship down without killing them all.

Outside the ship, they step into the gentle sunlight and the smell of damp soil and Dulsissia is amazed. She’s never seen such lush greenery. This is very different from the sterile enviroment of Seswenna, where everything is controlled and dictated by humans and what they deem to be in fashion, the polluted city she and Corin had met Davarax in or the dust-covered Nevarro.

Davarax picks up his bag and hers before gingerly nudging her with his shoulder, “Come.” and walks off.

She follows.

-

They come to a halt in a clearing and Davarax starts setting up what looks to be a camp site. He sets the children to different chores and only gives an absent sigh when he kneels next to what will probably become a fire place. “Paz, can you make sure,” Raga runs by him and climbs up the trunk of a nearby tree, “she doesn’t do that…”

Paz shrugs. “She’ll be fine. She got this.”

Davarax hums, not convinced but not visibly surprised by the incident or the response.

A little lost, Dulsissia stands at the outskirts of the site. She tries to hold on to Corin, but that only lasts for a couple of minutes before Corin frees himself to run after the others who take off with determination to finish their chore first. Watching in mild distress, she isn’t sure what to do with herself.

“Having you ever camped outside before?” Davarax asks.

Dulsissia shakes her head. The thought is a bit terrifying, but then she remembers that this last year she has been doing countless things she’s never done before. She can do this too. Taking a breath, she steps forward. “How can I help?”

The hours rush by. Davarax seems to be able to predict whatever madness they get up to, but Dulsissia struggles to keep up with the children exploring everything from tiny bugs to the massive creatures flying overhead, arguing, wrestling and climbing and generally getting incredibly dirty. Yet, she hasn’t heard them laugh so much in… ever?

“We should try to round up the rampant blurrgs and head back to the camp site.” Davarax says some time during mid-day. “We need to feed them before they try to eat each other…”

Dulsissia makes a thoughtful hum. Paz is somewhat clean, but Din and Barthor look like part mud-horns, while both Raga and Corin are more mud than child at the moment. “Yes, but… there is one thing we should do first.”

Davarax looks over at her. “What?”

She grins.

Fifteen minutes later, she wades into the river, still trying to tie up her hair, and proves to the others that stripping down to your underwear and going into the water isn’t going to kill them. Dulsissia learned to swim at a very young age, but she’d never been allowed to bring Corin out to teach him, and it sounds like the Covert children haven’t seen much of rivers and oceans at all.

The river here isn’t too deep, about waist height on her, and the temperature is cool but not cold.

Corin is the first to enter, following his mother like an obedient baby-porg, and once he is in; Din has to follow despite being clearly anxious of the liquid death trap. Raga will not be the accused of cowardice, so she stomps in next and grabs an anxious hold of Din. Barthor hesitates for a long time, but eventually he’s too curious to resist and joins them as well and then the splashing begins.

Davarax and Paz are the only ones who do not enter the water at all, despite the laughter and the splashing and encouragements from the others. Dulsissia suspects Davarax stays on land to keep Paz company.

After almost one hour, she wades back up on land, still laughing at a rather successful splash attack on both Corin and Din as they were trying to gang up on her. “Davarax?” While Paz is sitting cross-legged on the riverbank, Davarax is standing partially turned away and staring at the forest.

Instantly worried, Dulsissia inches over to him. “What’s wrong? Is there something out there?”

“No. No, nothing wrong. Everything is fine.”

Things are clearly not fine. He’s really tense and refuses to stop staring at the forest. “Then why-”

“Listen, if the kids weren’t here, I would be looking at you. Trust me, I would be looking. I would be looking so much. I would not stop looking. But they are here and… so I can’t. Okay?”

Oh.

Stupidly flattered, Dulsissia reaches out and gives him an apologetic pat on the arm. “I’ll get dressed.”

Davarax replies with a tense nod.

After they eat, Dulsissia is in the middle of trying to land a raspberry on the shrieking and flailing Barthor’s neck after he called her old when Davarax orders them up on their feet and to huddle together. He lifts his vambrace and declares it is time for a new holo-picture considering that their family has grown.

It’s a wonderful idea, it only saddens Dulsissia a bit when Davarax seems surprised when she insist on him being in the holo as well. Against all rules, he sets the vambrace on the ground and it scans them all together.

Dulsissia’s big challenge comes when dark has settled and the exhausted children are piled up together next to the camp fire, so deep into sleep that a Star Destroyer couldn’t wake them up. She tries to arrange her blanket on the ground, gingerly removing stick after nasty stick and pointy rock that is determined to poke her everywhere, but sleeping on the ground is not going to be easy.

“Having trouble?” Davarax asks, sounding amused. He’s sitting with his back against the trunk of a tree with his legs stretched out in front of himself, absently whittling away at a small twig.

“A bit.” Dulsissia admits with a sigh and gets up on her knees to stare down at her blanket.

“Hey…” Davarax calls for her to look his way and he sheaths the blade before tossing the twig away and nodding her over. “Come here?”

Smiling a little, Dulsissia gathers up her blanket and makes her way over. She settles next to him and as he lifts his arm to fit her under it, Dulsissia arranges the blanket to cover their legs.

Davarax does his laughter-huff. “I don’t need-”

“Shush. We’re sharing.” Dulsissia states, tucking their legs in before leaning back against him. She’s childishly pleased to feel his arm around her.

The ground is still hard, Davarax’ armor even more so, and still she can hear herself make a satisfied sigh just from being close to him again and being worn out from the day. She feels… happy. Content. “Today was nice. Really nice. Thank you.”

“Thank you.” Davarax says in a solemn voice, quietly, for her ears. “My only comfort while being away was the fact that my kids were in good hands.” He sighs. “Usually when I get back, they... One time I had to spend three hours persuading Din to come out from his hiding place. Do you know this is the first time I’ve come back to smiles instead of tears?”

Dulsissia closes her eyes for a moment, determined not ruin the moment with her tears, and she takes his hand between hers. “It’s like you said; they are good kids. They are. I’m just sad not everyone can see that.” She lifts his hand and presses her lips to the glove. “And I’m so very happy they have you.”

“Us.” Davarax pulls her a little closer. “They have us.”

-

It takes a couple of days for him to catch up on his other obligations to the Covert and only then does Davarax tell Dulsissia to appear thirty minutes before the children, just like that very first time.

“Okay, show me what Decco has taught you.” Davarax says as he walks into the training room in front of her. “Impress me, Dulcy.”

She doesn’t really think. She just acts, assuming he’s prepared. So when her foot shoves hard at the back of his knee, made easy due to her walking behind him, and Davarax goes sprawling with a squawk; Dulsissia is horrified and drops to her knees next to him. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

Davarax rolls over on his back and sighs. “Nothing hurt but my pride.” He then actually laughs a little. “Next time I will clarify to wait until we have actually started the lesson.”

Dulsissia awkwardly tucks her hair behind her ear and tries a smile. “At least I managed to knock you down this time.”

“You knocked me off my feet the second you ran to protect your son instead of just fleeing when I shot those men in the alleyway.” Davarax replies in a fond voice. “I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you since.”

Dulsissia’s heart does a flip. It hasn’t done that while he was gone. It feels nice. And a light touch makes her look down and she sees how he is reaching out two fingers on the hand next to her to brush them lightly back and forth across her knee. The contact feels even nicer. She remembers...

She looks down at the floor and her face burns. “Maybe… Maybe we don’t have to train today? Maybe we could… hide in your room for a bit? Do you want that?”

“No.” Davarax replies.

The embarrassment triples and a sting of humiliation hurts bad. She’d just assumed… Her mistake.

Davarax hoists himself up on his left elbow and his right hand comes up to cup the side of her face. “I need more. Less than thirty minutes? It’s not enough. It’s nowhere enough for me. I can’t. I’m sorry, Dulcy, but I need more. I need hours. I need to love you, hold you, savour you...”

His voice is raw with that very need, and the heat in Dulsissia’s face has suddenly nothing to do with embarrassment of humiliation. It feels like all of her is burning.

She lifts her gaze and looks at his t-visor. “Tonight then?”

Davarax’ breath hitches and he only barely manages a faint nod. “If you want to?”

Dulsissia breaks into an embarrassed laugh, having trouble believing this man is real. “I’m the one throwing myself at you here.”

“Technically you kicked me to the floor.” Davarax offers as a weak joke.

They both end up laughing and she gives his arm a half-hearted slap. “And I said I was sorry. Now get up. We have some training to do.”

Davarax grunts. “I thought I was the teacher and you obeyed my every word?”

“You are and I did, but that only ended up with you eating floor, so maybe we should change it up a little?” Dulsissia sends him a challenging look and that finally gets him up on his feet with the snort of an offended bantha. 

Suddenly he’s all business and no play. Dulsissia tries several times, but she fails to send him crashing to the floor again.

Later, when the children emerge, eager to train, she stays to watch. She’s amazed at the progress her son has made since they arrived her. He is not as advanced and smooth as the others, but even without maternal bias involved, Dulsissia can see that Corin is becoming quite the skilled fighter. He’s got talent.

As for the other kids; Barthor lacks strength, but his speed is unmatched. Raga is quite the brawler, willing to take punches if it means winning a fight and absolutely fearless.

The only thing that saddens Dulsissia is the change in Paz. He still supervises the others, corrects them when they do something wrong, but when his fist connects with Corin’s cheekbone and he knocks him down; he does not apologize.

She wonders what Paz has seen, what he went through last year. Some scars aren’t physical.

After training, Corin asks if Din can eat at their place and Dulsissia nods. It’s the same question, every day, and she always gives the same answer. But today it also gives her the opportunity to ask a question of her own.

“Can I ask you something?” Dulsissia leans against the wall next to where Davarax is standing, prodding at his vambrace.

“Sure.” He replies, not looking up from whatever he’s doing.

“Din’s parents. His Mandalorian parents. Why did you choose them?”

Davarax pauses and finally looks up at her. “I didn’t. I mean, I agreed to it. I don’t know her too well, but I’ve served with his father in the Fighting Corps. He’s a loyal man. A good Mandalorian.”

“Din is not happy there.”

Davarax sighs and looks over at where the boys are disappearing out the door. “I know.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do?” Dulsissia asks. “Or, is there anything I can do?”

“I’ll talk to them.”

-

It’s almost funny. Dulsissia would laugh if she wasn’t so frustrated. In her youth, she had waited impatiently for Antonia to fall asleep so she could sneak out to meet boys. Now, a mother herself, she is waiting for her son to fall asleep so she can sneak out to meet a man.

No, not just ‘a man’. Davarax. Her heart does another flip at the very thought.

“Mom, are you okay?” Corin asks, a little concerned, bless his soul. He’s sitting in his bed, reading, blissfully calm after a long day of hard work pretending to be a bounty hunter with the others.

Dulsissia looks over at him, realizes she’s forgotten to pretend to be reading as well and is just tapping a nail restlessly at the datapad instead. She puts on a smile. “I’m fine, baby. I’m just thinking about what to get you for your birthday, that’s all. You keep reading.”

Corin beams her a happy smile before obediently going back to his story.

Dulsissia closes her eyes and wills time to speed up.

Time seems to drag on even more slowly, but after about a million standard years, Dulsissia finally dares to slip out of bed and tiptoe out of the room.

Her heart is racing and her pulse is thumping in her veins and she’s not even in the same room as Davarax! At least this time she’s had the good sense to put on something more flattering than the white sack, plus made sure her hair doesn’t look like the backside of a wookiee. And when she gingerly knocks on the door and it opens to reveal Davarax without his armor, merely his clothes, she knows he’s been thinking about this as much as she has.

She steps inside the room, the door closes behind her and for a second she and Davarax are just looking at each other. Unbearable hunger pulsating between them. A craving so strong Dulsissia doesn’t even want to resist it. She wants to be loved, held and savoured.

The second she steps towards him, he moves towards her. When her hands reach up and her arms go around his neck, his hands reach down and take a hold of her hips, lifting her up like she weighs nothing. Holding on to each other like they die if they didn’t, he carries her towards the bed.

Davarax had said hours and he had meant it. Dulsissia is amazed to find his hunger doesn’t stop between the bouts of lovemaking that leave her gasping for air. Instead she shivers with soft happiness as he trails his bare hands over her naked skin and whispers his love for all of her, body and soul. There is actual reverence in both of his voice and his touch. He sounds like a man in love.

Dulsissia gets to learn him as well and memorizes it all. He has two new scars. His neck is really sensitive. He goes weak when her lips touches his skin. And she can almost lull him to sleep by gently running her fingers up and down his back for a little while. She loves him so much it hurts.

An interesting revelation comes when Dulsissia declares that those tiny refresher showers could not fit two people, not in a billion standard years, and Davarax proves her wrong. Now she can never shower again without blushing…

For the last hour, all they do is lie curled up together in his bed, sharing each other’s warmth, watching with lazy satisfaction as their fingers play together in a slow, pointless dance of touching, braiding, stroking.

Content. There’s that word again.

Dulsissia is sad to leave, by the time she’s by the door they have already been through three kov’nyns and she pauses a final time to burrow her face to his neck and inhale the scent of him before forcing herself to leave. Davarax doesn’t let go until he absolutely has to.

They will have this again, Dulsissia tells herself. Don’t worry. They will definitely have this again.

And while her own bed feels lonely and cold, it still doesn’t take long before Dulsissia falls into an exhausted and satisfied sleep.

Three hours later, Corin has to call her name twice before she reluctantly opens her eyes and forces herself out of bed to start the day. She’s still half-asleep when they eat breakfast.

“Are you sure you’re okay, mom?” Corin asks, frowning. “You look tired.”

Dulsissia hides her smile behind her second cup of caf. “I’m okay, sweetie. I promise. I’m more than okay. I’m really good. And to prove it, I am going to bake those sugar cookies today and you guys can have as many as you want after training. I’ll pack some for Paz. How does that sound?”

Corin lights up, beaming with delight. “That sounds awesome. You are the best, mom.”

“So I’ve been told.” Dulsissia mumbles with smug delight, sipping more caf.

She plans her day thoroughly, making sure to have time free when she knows Davarax will have time off and hopes that maybe they can spend time together. One of the first things she does is grab her cookies and head up to Nevarro while Corin and Din are working on some project with Barthor.

It’s kind of funny how several of her regular buyers are some of the scruffiest looking bounty hunters in the city, but Dulsissia knows they are a lot kinder than they look.

She does not expect, after finishing a transaction, to hear a horribly familiar voice.

“Dulsissia?”

Her blood runs ice cold, fear clamps around her heart, and Dulsissia needs a moment before she slowly turns around and faces the one who had spoken. It’s him. How is it possible? How did he find her? “Vecon.”

-

Short, dark hair combed back into slick order, the same cold grey eyes as Macero, the younger and less handsome brother, Vecon Valentis studies her from head to toe and then snorts a laugh. “It is you. What are you doing here on Nevarro? Wow. You look a mess, Dulsissia. How the mighty Motti has fallen, eh?” Vecon scouts the surroundings. “Where is the kid?”

Cold sweat is breaking out on her skin. Dulsissia tries to keep a neutral expression on her face. “I ran out of funds. Couldn’t feed him. So I left him on a different planet with some kind souls and told them I’d be back for him.”

Vecon looks at her, digests the words and ends up shrugging. “Oh well. We’ll find him. If he’s still alive.”

She will never let him get his hands on Corin. Never. Dulsissia turns to run, but four storm troopers are now standing there. She swallows hard, forcing the panic away, before turning back to face her former brother-in-law.

“Don’t bother trying to run.” Vecon drawls, picking up a package with cookies from her small make-shift table and he studies them. “My brother wants you back and I would hate to have to mess up that pretty face of yours.” He drops the cookies to the ground and smirks. “Are you going to come nicely? Please say yes.”

Dulsissia knows he’s hoping she’ll say no. While Vecon has nothing personally against her and probably won’t harm her unprovoked, she has wronged his brother and that cannot be forgiven. She could try to run, but odds are against her. Five of them, one of her. She has a weapon, but so do they and while they most likely wouldn’t shoot to kill, it would be easier to escape without a blaster wound to slow her down. Also, even if she did manage to run, where would she run to? There is no way she will lead them to the Covert.

No, better go with them and find a way to escape before they get to Macero.

Dulsissia sticks her chin out. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Vecon smiles and steps forward, his boot crunching the cookies under it, reaching out to twirl a blonde lock of her hair around his index finger. “Excellent.” He glances down her body. “Hand over your weapons, please.”

Of course he won’t let her keep her weapons, but Dulsissia still hesitates. Davarax had given her these weapons. They were gifts from him. That makes them precious to her. “What if I promise not to use them?”

Vecon chuckles and gestures to the storm troopers, who don’t hesitate to grab her arms and start pawing all over her to look for weapons. Fighting against them is pointless, but she still struggles.

“Bring her.” Vecon orders once the blaster and blade are claimed and they proclaim her safe.

Dulsissia tugs angrily to free herself from the soldiers’ grip on her arms, but she walks with them.

Get them away from the Covert. Get them away from her loved ones. Then escape. Somehow.

A meagre comfort is how the many eyes watching this will at least inform Davarax of what happened and her son will be cared for.

A massive vehicle is waiting at the outskirts of Nevarro and Dulsissia is brought on board with Vecon and the storm troopers to join another group already seated there. Every soldier present is watching her with curiosity, more than one white helmet tilts and gives them an almost innocent look of inquisitiveness, but she knows these are people who wouldn’t kill her if ordered to do so.

The drive is bumpy and uncomfortable, but Dulsissia barely notices. She sits, back straight and stares emptily ahead at the wall, thinking about what Corin will think when she doesn’t come back. The Covert will have no trouble uncovering what has happened to her, but the thought of the fear her son will feel is killing her. His father is suddenly so very close and he has lost his mother for who knows how long? Forever?

No. Not forever.

Dulsissia will find her way back to him. To them. She will.

They arrive at the base and she is brought inside by the ones who had dragged her out of Nevarro. Vecon is talking on some communication device, clearly rescheduling his plans as he has something more important to do; bring back his brother’s property.

Shortly after that, she’s brought on board a huge imperial ship and locked away in a small, bare room clearly designed for prisoners a lot more dangerous than her.

Dulsissia sits down on the hard bench meant to be a bed, draws her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. She doesn’t cry. She refuses to cry. She won’t give Vecon that.

A meal is brought to her twice a day, but otherwise she is left to slowly rot from boredom and fear.

Then comes the day when an officer steps inside her cell and holds out a bundle of clothes towards her.

“You are to wear this.” The woman orders with cold distaste. “The Colonel will see you in fifteen minutes. Make yourself presentable.”

-

The doors slide open and Dulsissia steps into the room where Vecon is sitting. The table in front of him is covered with all kinds of luxury food that Dulsissia used to love and hasn’t tasted since she left home. The smirk on Vecon’s face says he suspects this fact.

Forcing herself to smile, Dulsissia walks over to the chair drawn out for her at the opposite side of the table.

“Better.” Vecon says, lifting a fancy looking glass with red liquid and giving her a mock toast. “Much better.”

He’s referring to the dress she’s wearing. A beautiful and smooth thing in a glorious teal colour.

Sitting down, holding on to her smile through pure will power, Dulsissia can’t hide the anger in her eyes. “I never pictured you for a man of fashion, Vecon?”

“I’m not.” The man confirms, taking a sip. “But I can’t have my brother’s wife wandering around looking like something… cheap.”

The insult burns. It shouldn’t, she knows that. There was nothing wrong with the clothes she had been wearing. But the words burn and she feels angry with herself. “I’m sure he will be very grateful.”

“Oh, I know he will be.” Vecon puts the glass down and picks at something on his plate. “He’s been very determined to find you, Dulcy.”

“Don’t call me that.” Dulsissia growls with such intensity and anger it surprises him.

Dropping whatever he was holding between his fingers, Vecon goes from surprise to amusement. Chuckling, he sits up straighter and pays actual attention to her. “Well, well, has the loth-kitten grown claws? Was that attitude I heard? Not just snooty Motti condescension, but actual attitude?”

Dulsissia gives him a sour smile.

Vecon shrugs and gestures for her to eat. “I like my women spicy, so I’m pleased to hear it. Macero, as you know, won’t like that one bit.” He takes another sip of his glass. “I’ve sent him a message and expect to hear back from him any day now. He’s on a mission, I cannot disclose his whereabouts as it is top secret, but I think he’ll take some time off to greet you on your return.”

Fear gnaws in Dulsissia’s belly. She stares at her plate, unable to eat a single thing.

“There is one thing I need to know.” Vecon drones on. “Where is the kid?”

“I told you.”

“Yeah, you did.” Vecon sets his grey stare in her. “And now I want you to tell the truth.”

Dulsissia just stares at her plate.

“Don’t make this difficult for the both of us.” Vecon says. “I will find him, eventually. You know that. I’m inclined to say he’s back on Nevarro, but then I also think you might have been more reluctant to leave if he was. Maybe I should level the place just to be sure?”

Closing her eyes, trying to block out his words, Dulsissia feels sick to her stomach. Vecon is capable of doing just that. She knows he is. Not merely because he has the soldiers and firepower to do it, but because he’d enjoy doing it.

Macero and Vecon are frightfully similar in many ways, but where Macero is cold and efficient, Vecon is less clever and more randomly cruel. It’s what has kept him from advancing further in the army, unlike his brother who has met the Emperor himself.

Macero wouldn’t care if an orphanage caught fire as long as it benefited him, Vecon would stay to listen to the screams.

“Just tell me, Dulsissia.” Vecon says with a friendly smile so fake it wouldn’t fool a blind man. “My brother wants his son back. He misses him. How could you take Corin away from his father?”

“Burn Nevarro to the ground. Bomb the planet from orbit. I don’t care.” Dulsissia bluffs, raising her gaze to meet his with cold contempt. “You won’t find him there.”

Clicking his tongue, Vecon studies her for a while and then gestures to the guards. “Take her back to her cell.”

Dulsissia gets up.

“And you can leave the knife.” Vecon says, not looking up from piling food on to his own plate.

Clenching her jaw, Dulsissia places the butter knife back on the table, turns and walks out of the room.

-

How many days has it been? It’s hard to tell in this coffin of a room. Dulsissia spends the time either lying on the bench or pacing back and forth the two and a half steps it takes from covering the distance from one wall to the next.

When two guards come to fetch her, Dulsissia is almost grateful. Her mind is tormenting her with all kinds of scenarios of what her boy must be going through so even Vecon is a welcome distraction.

They bring her to a different place this time. The door opens to reveal some kind of communication room and she sees Vecon standing there, in the middle of the room with his back towards her, and Dulsissia braces herself. Will it be more threats? Bargaining this time, maybe?

What she doesn’t expect it Vecon stepping aside and revealing Macero’s holo-image.

“Dulsissia.” Macero’s voice greets her.

“Macero.” Dulsissia whispers back. She can’t move. Can’t look away.

“I have been looking for you.” Macero says, his voice is flat but his eyes are angry. “I’ve been very worried. You can imagine my relief when Vecon sent me a message that he’d found you.”

Vecon grins.

Dulsissia says nothing.

“He also tells me you will not give up the location of my son.” Macero continues.

His son? Dulsissia feels a flicker of fury burn in her belly. He hadn’t shown one ounce of interest in ‘his’ son until there was talk about sending him away. Macero had been pleased when she’d told him she was pregnant, but she’d been more or less on her own for the next nine months except for when they were posing for her family. Macero had shown up again a mere hour after Corin was born, inspected the child and nodded with approval before leaving again.

Growing up, Corin had been desperate for his father’s attention and time, but he never gave it to him. “Do you even remember his name?” Dulsissia can’t hide the bitterness in her voice.

“Of course I remember his name” Macero does not take the bait. “Tell me where he is.”

“No.”

Macero stares at her with those cruel eyes of his and then turns his attention to Vecon. “Bring her to Seswenna. Stay with her and make sure she gets a lot of rest. She probably shouldn’t talk to anyone. It’s been a tough experience for my dear wife and she needs time to recover.”

“Understood.” Vecon replies, like a good soldier. He always did whatever his brother told him to do.

“Don’t do this, Macero.” Dulsissia asks, taking a step forward. “Just let me go. You won’t ever see me again. Tell them I died or something.”

“What I’m going to do is find my son.” Macero replies with cold contempt. “And you, my dear wife, will stop your pathetic whining and go back home. You are going to stay there, put on a happy face and give me sons and daughters.”

Exhaling sharply, Dulsissia shakes her head. “I’m not some pawn in your plan, Macero.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Macero doesn’t even blink. “That is exactly what you are. Our children will be Mottis and not even your family can deny that. They may dislike me, but they can’t turn their back on their own blood.”

She hates herself as frustrated and frightened tears well up in her eyes, but Dulsissia can’t stop it. “I won’t be a part of it. I refuse. Do you hear me?”

Vecon snickers and for a second there is almost pity in Macero’s eyes before they go cold again and he gives his final orders to Vecon and the holo-image blinks out.

Shivering, Dulsissia stares at the floor and tries to remember how to breathe. She is brought back to reality when something takes a hold of her chin and Vecon lifts her face to grin down at her.

“Let’s get you home, Motti Princess.”

Fury and disgust flares up in her and Dulsissia’s eyes narrow. “Always obeying orders from big brother. Always such a good little boy, aren’t you, Vecon? Trying and trying, but never as good as your brother. Never clever enough, never skilled enough, so you suck up to Macero and happily do his dirty work.”

Vecon flinches with anger and abruptly backhands her across the face.

It hurts. It snaps her face to the side, almost knocks her off balance, and Dulsissia can feel her cheekbone burn with what will become a bruise. But it also gives her the excuse and opportunity to spin back and ram her elbow with all of her might into Vecon’s face in a move that would have made her Mandalorian teachers proud.

She is rewarded with a very satisfying crunch, the sound of his nose breaking, and Vecon’s surprised bellow of pain, before the guards grab her and restrain her before she can do any more damage.

“Get her back to her cell!” Vecon howls.

Dulsissia doesn’t fight them.

-

She spends the next eternity staring up at the ceiling, lying on the hard bench and going over every possible escape attempt she can conjure up. From being on the ship itself, to the transport to Seswenna to her old home. She knows that house far better than Vecon. She can get away. The big problem will be getting off the planet.

It happens when one of the guards is entering the cell to hand her a plate with food.

The ship gives a violent shake, there is the sound of a distant explosion, followed by several others, and soon red lights are flashing and alarms are blaring out in the hallway.

“What is going on?” The guard asks a storm trooper running by the cell.

“We’re under attack!” Is the reply.

Dulsissia sits up. They’re being attacked? Could this be her chance to escape?

Before she gets the chance to do anything, the guard runs out and closes the door behind them, but Dulsissia doesn’t give up. The ship continues to shake, there are more explosions, and she starts to pace her cell. She has to be ready. This might be her moment. All she needs is the opportunity…

The door opens again and this time two guards run in to grab her. Vecon is standing out in the hallway and he’s not looking pleased. In fact, he’s sending almost nervous glances towards the back of the ship.

“What is going on?” Dulsissia asks, pulled out of her cell by the guards.

“We are leaving.” Vecon replies. Oh, he is definitely nervous. And don’t those explosions sound a little closer now?

“Why?” Dulsissia tugs to free herself but yet again in vain. “What is happening?”

As if to answer her question, there is the sound of blaster fire and she can see the flashes of light in the distance.

“He’s here, sir.” One of the guards says.

“Thank you for pointing out the obvious.” Vecon snaps. “Don’t just stand there! Stop him!”

The guards run forward to join the others fighting, while Vecon grabs Dulsissia’s arm and tugs her close. She notes that he’s also drawn his blaster.

Down in the hallway, the fighting is coming closer. The ceiling light at the very end gets taken out by an errant blaster shot so there are only slight flashes of what is going on when a weapon is being fired. The storm troopers are being pushed back by whomever is approaching.

Vecon slowly lifts the blaster and places the muzzle to Dulsissia’s head.

She hardly notices, can only stare as she sees a flash of blue armor amidst the chaos in front of her.

With deadly accuracy with his blaster shots, a lone figure is making his way towards them. A flick of a wrist sends a grenade into a room to take out some troopers popping in and out to fire at their opponent. A harsh kick sends a helmet flying from a trooper already on the floor trying to reach for their blaster nearby.

Davarax. It’s him. How? She doesn’t care. It’s him. He’s here and that is all that matters.

A group of guards emerge from a room behind him while the Mandalorian is focused on two death troopers in front of him, but before Dulsissia can open her mouth to scream a warning, Davarax activates his flame thrower and turns in a calculated circle to engulf them all. He doesn’t wait for the last trooper to fall before he’s already moving forward, lifting his blaster to shoot at his next target.

Davarax is completely indifferent to the shots fired at him, doesn’t react to the ones bouncing off his armor, merely keeps stalking towards them and takes them down, one by one. He comes with the smell of fire, blood and death.

A trooper jumps out of room next to him, blaster raised, but Davarax slams his elbow into the helmet so hard it shatters. The Mandalorian then pulls out a vibro-blades and throws it.

The blade flies through the air and takes down the one guard left standing.

The red lights are still flashing, alarms are blaring, there is thick smoke in the air, and Davarax is standing in front of Dulsissia and Vecon.

“Don’t, Mando.” Vecon warns. “I will shoot.”

“Not if he kills you first, Vecon.” Dulsissia says, eyes on Davarax’ visor. There is blood spattered all over his helmet and armor. If death had taken shape as a human, this is what it would look like. His quiet, looming figure would have terrified her if she didn’t know the heart behind it. He’s no threat to her. To everyone else on the ship, yes, but not to her.

Vecon draws a sharp, startled breath, and his finger is about to tighten on the trigger, but before he can squeeze it; Davarax’ grip engulfs all of Vecon’s hand and twists it, making him drop the weapon with a pained yelp.

Dulsissia breaks free and takes up position next to Davarax, staring at Vecon bent over in awkward twist due to the grip on his hand. “Tell Macero I’m never going back. He will never see his son again. And to leave me alone. If he comes after me or my family again, I won’t ask nicely to be left alone. I will kill him.”

Vecon sneers. “Tell him yourself.” And with his other hand, he rams a blade into Davarax’ side.

The Mandalorian jolts with a pained grunt and Vecon has one moment of triumph before Davarax ends his life with a well aimed blaster shot and lets him fall to the floor.

Dulsissia ducks under Davarax’ outstretched arm still aiming the blaster at Vecon to get to where the blade is embedded in him. “Oh. Oh, no. What-”

Davarax yanks the blade out and grabs her arm to make her look up at his t-visor. “We have to go.”

His voice. His perfect voice. It’s really him. She nods.

Davarax bends down, picks up Vecon’s blaster and gives it to her. “I need you to cover my back, Dulcy. Can you do that?”

She nods again.

They move and Dulsissia makes sure to fire at everyone who appears behind them while Davarax violently and without mercy ploughs through the storm troopers piling up in front of them to prevent them from escaping. Once they finally step inside the large hangar bay, Davarax turns, wraps one arm around Dulsissia’s waist and then they are flying up towards the ceiling.

A couple of blaster shots follow them, but mostly the chaos and destruction and sudden lack of leadership seems to have stunned the crew of Vecon’s ship, which makes it almost easy to climb into the vent and move through it. They emerge in a docking tube and Dulsissia exhales a weak laugh when she sees the side of the now beloved Razor Crest at the end of it.

“Go.” Davarax nudges her, then follows with blaster raised to cover their backs while they run towards his ship.

Dulsissia half expects Vecon’s ship to fire at them or at least pursue, but the big ship lies dead in the darkness and the Razor Crest can detach and make a run for it without any trouble. Yet it still takes over thirty standard minutes before Davarax stops pushing the engines as well as constantly checking the radar, only then does he finally lean back in the seat with a strained exhale.

Dulsissia unbuckles herself and runs over to hover next to him. She sees he’s bleeding in several places, his clothing is singed and ripped, the armor has countless new dents and scratches. Reaching out, her hands move from place to place and hover uselessly. Where to begin?

She makes a surprised squeak when Davarax suddenly pulls her close and hugs her tight.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“Yes, but you’re not.” Dulsissia says, trying to push herself away. “You’re bleeding. You’re hurt, Davarax. I have to-”

“In a moment.” Davarax says, not letting go, whispering; “Just… Please.”

And that is what breaks her.

Not threats or horrors, not death and destruction, but those softy whispered words.

Dulsissia wraps her arms around him, lets him ease her up on his lap and curls as close to him as possible while he holds her as close as possible.

[illneverrecover]

Take Me to Church (M) | JJK

➛pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

➛genre: gang!AU, tattooed!Jungkook, smut, fluff.

➛word count: 5,114

➛rating: M 

➛warnings: sub/switch Jungkook, power play, praise, body worship, face sitting, oral sex (both giving and receiving), dirty talk, profanity, mentions of weeb JK, unprotected sex, riding, slight cock warming mentions, JK is a soft sweet boy.

➛summary: You can always tell when something is bothering your boyfriend, despite how hard he tries to hide it - and you have creative ways to get him to talk. 

➛notes: MY FIRST EVER COMMISSION! As soon as I mentioned opening commissions, my cherub friends jumped at the chance and sent in several requests, @quinnkoo​ being the first. She asked for sweet soft switchy tattooed Jungkook smut with some power play, and I immediately thought back to the Gang!AU drabble I wrote her last year, and decided to play off of that. It’s not necessary to read that one first, but it’ll give some more back story if you’re curious. Thank you so much, Quinny. I hope you enjoy 🖤

➛song: Church - Fall Out Boy & My Time - BTS  

“Ugh! I’m sick of all this rambling. When’s Kakashi going to come back?” you sigh, head plopping onto your boyfriend's shoulder. You waited a few breaths for his teasing reply - he couldn’t help but to drag you after you revealed your favorite character and your totally normal crush on him - but when it didn’t come, your brow furrowed. 

He had insisted on the marathon of his favorite anime, eyes lighting with childlike glee as he explained the premise, but he had been noticeably quiet the last few episodes.

Something was up.

A wayward glance at Jungkook told you that your suspicions were right; his wide rich amber eyes were facing the screen, but the light behind them was absent. He was chewing his bottom lip, large front teeth poking out every few seconds, the hand not wrapped around you rubbing at one of the tattoos on his forearm. All the telltale signs that something was Bothering Jeon Jungkook™.

It didn’t take long for you to know what was on his mind. Reading him had been something you excelled at since day one, his body an open book that you have delved so deep inside you knew him better than you knew yourself. 

On the outside, Jungkook was the embodiment of the word ‘tough’, which would be fitting of a member of his stature. He was part of the well renowned gang Bangtan, something you had known since the first meeting, and he looked the part - typically dressed in all black, clothes baggy and yet somehow still flattering his lean muscles, ink decorating his arms and neck. A single hoop hung from his nose, messy dark hair hanging low in his eyes - and with one look, it had been over for you. 

But that was only one facet to Jungkook.

On the inside, he was marshmallow, soft and gooey and tooth rotting sweet. The type of man who believes in soulmates, who coos at kittens in store windows, who teared up while watching Frozen II (with an adamant cry of, “babe, Olaf is GONE” when you asked if he was alright). He is so thoughtful, always worrying about everyone else - his brothers, his family, you - before himself. A pure heart of gold wrapped in a deliciously decorated package.

Which is why you knew he was still thinking about what happened the day prior.

It had been such a silly thing, something that you had mentioned once but that he couldn’t get out of his mind, and he had wanted to surprise you. He could barely contain his own excitement when he picked you up, admiring your sundress while his legs bounced with untapped energy, insisting you closed your eyes until you had reached your destination.

The Tea Parlor had been perfect, everything you had imagined when you had casually dropped the idea of high tea to your boyfriend. The room was giant and open, windows taking up all of the walls, light spilling in to make the finery of the tea cups and serving trays glisten. You had squealed with excitement, rushing up to the hostess with a spring in your step, Jungkook giggling as he stepped up behind you.

She was friendly at first, polite smiles and kind eyes, until she heard the name the reservation was under. The minute Jungkook’s name spilled from his lips, the hostess went cold, stiff. Her disgust was blatant as she openly glared at him, gaze dragging up and down his form before doing the same to you. Before you could ask what was wrong, she snatched up the menus, giving a curt “Right this way, Mr. Jeon” before turning on her heel, leading you both to the back of the parlor. 

A warm palm at the small of your back had you turning to look at Jungkook, seeking comfort in his gaze, but instead he was focused on the woman in front of you, eyes arctic and emotionless. He guided you to follow the hostess weaving between tables, and it was only once you were both seated that she addressed him again, voice pitched low. “You may have other people’s respect around here, but not mine. I know who you are and what you do. You should be ashamed of yourself.” Placing a menu down, she turned to face you, vitriol lacing her voice. “You should be, too. Out with a man like this, flaunting yourselves? It’s offensive.” 

You weren’t sure how long you had sat in shocked silence when she made her exit, the menus laying unopened on the table. She had put you in the very back of the room, in a darkened corner, something you would normally disapprove of - but once seeing the look on Jungkook’s face, you were glad not to have an audience. 

“What in the fuck was her problem?” you scoff, reaching a hand to lay on top of his own. “Jungkook, don’t listen to that shit. She has no idea what she’s talking about.” 

He was still silent, his free arm clenching and unclenching slowly on top of the delicate lace tablecloth. He hadn’t looked up at you since the hostess had left, but you could see the unchecked rage sparking his eyes, the calculated way he was chewing his lip. His mind was racing, and you weren’t sure where it would land - but you wanted him to know you were here. 

“We don’t have to stay, babe. We can go somewhere else for high tea,” you murmured, smoothing a thumb over the inked words on his knuckles. “Or, we can go shopping, have our own high tea with unlimited tiny sandwiches and desserts,  where no judgmental bitches are allowed.” 

He snorted then, the corner of his lip turning. “So what, then you won’t come to your own high tea?”

You had flicked his hand then with a laugh, moving to interlace his fingers with your own, and after a few whispered declarations of love, he had lifted you from your seat, stopping to twirl you once before guiding you to the front of the parlor to exit. 

He only turned back once he was sure you were safe outside the door, mumbling a “gimme a minute” before he was darting inside, tall form stalking towards the hostess yet again. You weren’t sure what he had said to the woman, but you could see her face - the fear that pooled in her eyes - and you knew it was enough. 

It had been two days since the incident, and Jungkook had been off since. Instead of any usual errands, he had holed you both up in the apartment, nesting and appeasing you with copious cheese snacks and shirtless cuddles on the couch. You had tried to gently ask if he wanted to talk more about it, prompt him in quiet moments and in the protection of your arms, but he always skirted around it, insisting everything was fine, instead pulling you in for a kiss and a reminder that he loves you. 

It made your heart ache, to see the man that you love so much, the twin flame to your soul feel like he couldn’t open up, couldn’t untangle the threads in his mind. He was always worrying about you, taking extra precautions in his work and personal life to ensure your safety, and you found yourself wishing desperately that he would let you take care of him for once.

He had never been good at keeping his emotions hidden. 

You turn your eyes to the screen once more, catching the end of the episode, the screen cutting to black just as Naruto yells “I’ll never let my comrades die!”, which was a pretty good sign that you had been spacing out in thought for longer than you meant to. As the ending credits played, you nudged Jungkook with your shoulder, turning to face him.

“Babe?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Well, it’s just - I gave you the perfect opener to roast me about my love for Kakashi and you didn’t take the bait,” swinging your legs into his lap, you move your arms to drape loosely around his neck. “Didn’t even blink. Doesn’t sound like the Jungkook I know.” 

He hums then, palming your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Yeah, I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Why?”

Internally, you sighed. You knew this wasn’t the case, but it also seemed that every attempt to discuss things had been thwarted by the beautiful man one way or another. You needed him to feel ready to open up, to feel vulnerable - and as you stared at the strong, toned arm now touching you, an idea clicked into place.

He grunts an affirmation, turning to face you, inked hands smoothing a path up your legs. There’s a smirk on his face, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re right, I was distracted. I was thinking-”

Pressing a finger to his lips, you shush him. “First of all, I’m always right. Haven’t you learned that by now?” 

Jutting his chin, he nips at the digit, trapping it between the edges of his teeth. “Sounds fake.”

“Second of all..” you continue, voice husky with a new bead of lust pooling low in your gut. You drag your finger over the plush flesh of his lip before sliding lower, tapping his chin once before you grip his jaw tightly. The responding hiss he gives makes you smirk deviously. “No more thinking. I think it’s time for more distractions.” 

Jungkook whines lowly as you move to straddle his lap, your palm still clutching his mouth to pull him closer to you. Your free hand smooths the hair out of his face, nails raking lightly against his scalp.

“Is that okay?” your lips ghost against his own, close enough that he could capture them into a kiss if he wanted, but instead he nods his head, eyes heavy with longing.

Threading your fingers around his midnight locks, you give one sharp tug, exposing his intricately tattooed throat as he keens once more. Releasing his jaw, you drop your head, mouth puckered and planting a kiss on his pulse point. “I wanna hear you say it.”

Jungkook’s chest is heaving,  pulse galloping wildly beneath your palm. He hitches a breath, swallowing thickly. “Fuck, baby. Yes, yes that’s okay,” he rasps, words needy and rushed.

Large palms cup your ass, pulling you closer until you are flush against him, and you moan against his neck as he kneads the flesh, his hips raising off the couch. His tongue finds the juncture between your neck and shoulder, and your eyes roll back as he nibbles and licks at the tender skin. 

Giving in for a moment, you enjoy the feeling of Jungkook’s mouth on your heated body, the warmth of his lips and tongue igniting a fever in your bones, his hands still pulling at the globes of your ass until you were dragging your core over his clothed cock.

It was a deep growl from his chest that brought you back, lifting your head away from his dangerous mouth. This was supposed to be about him relaxing, but if you continued down this path, you knew you’d be lost under his spell.

With great effort, you step off of his lap, knees wobbly as you untangle yourself from Jungkook’s form, though the sight before you makes you want to collapse. Jungkook looks beyond fucked out, eyes dark and shining with desire, his lips ruddy and shining with overuse. He’s panting, his black t-shirt seemingly straining against heaving muscles, the imprint of his cock evident and thick even through his sweatpants.

God, you wanted to ruin him. 

“Lay down for me,” you husk, throat painfully dry. You watch as he does what he’s told, laying until his whole body is now on the couch, his umber gaze never leaving yours. 

“Good boy.” 

He rolls his eyes then, but his cheeks flush, the praise affecting him despite his embarrassment. “Don’t make fun of me, babe. I’m a very powerful man.” 

Chuckling, you move to slide off your sweatpants, stepping out of them and your panties once they hit the floor. A quick flick of your wrist has your top discarded across the room - and leaves you bare before Jungkook. 

“I know you are. But I also know you like it when I take care of you, hmm?” you move closer, hovering just by the edge of where he’s laying, planning your next step.

Jungkook can’t take his gaze off of you, doe eyes obsidian and devouring you whole, darting between your face and splendidly naked form. His hand grips his bulge , palming himself as he hisses in response. 

Climbing over his lap once more, you pause before settling, instead gripping the edges of his shirt to pull over his head, tossing it errantly. Drinking him in, you trace the lengths of his abdomen, grazing over his nipples before following the inked lines down his arms, hands intertwining. Dropping your hips, you roll them once against his hardened cock, moaning at the friction before you move his arms to rest above his head. 

“Leave these here,” you order, but there’s no bite, only softness as you trace back the lines of his palms, the underside of his biceps. He was peering down, wanting to watch your every move, regarding you with admiration as you leaned forward, pressing a wet kiss to his collarbone. 

You take your time, dragging your lips back and forth along the planes of his toned chest, nipping and suckling reddened blemishes on his skin, relishing in the sounds he was making for you - just for you. A quick glance told you that he’s behaving, arms still perched above his head and draped onto the side of the couch, though twitching when you would reach a sensitive spot with your mouth. His eyes are closed, bottom lip tucked beneath his teeth, and when you lap at the hollow of his throat, his brow furrows in strain, as if it took every effort to not reach down and pull you closer to him.

Seeing him blissed out beneath you, relinquishing his control despite his body screaming at him not to has heat flooding your veins, your cunt clenching in desire. If there was one thing that turned you on more than Jungkook existing, it was pleasing him until he forgot his own name. 

With a groan, you lift your lips to press against his own, gasping when his tongue immediately slides into your mouth, tangling with yours. Jungkook always kisses with such passion, hunger edging in every suckle and nibble of your pout, lips moving in tandem. For a moment, you allow yourself to drown in it, relishing the taste of him, kissing him until you’re forced to pull away for air. 

Pressing your forehead to his, you pause, allowing you both time to breathe, your hand rising to cup the silk line of his jaw. His eyes look pained, brows pulled taunt as he looks up at you, and you can feel the sinew muscle beneath your palm twitch. 

Nuzzling against his nose once, twice, you press a chaste kiss against his lips once more. “Jungkook,” you breathe, searching his gaze. “It’s okay. I’m with you, I got you,” 

He swallows thickly, nodding. “I know, babe, I know you do.” He leans forward, chasing your mouth, tugging your bottom lip lightly between his teeth before dropping. “I just, I hate that she said that to you, that you get treated differently because of me, because of who I am-” 

Hushing him with a kiss  is much more effective than with your words, and you continue to lick into his mouth until he's groaning beneath you once more, your name a whispered mantra on his lips. 

“I don’t care what she thinks, what anyone thinks. I know you, Jungkook, and I love you.” 

“I love you too, baby. So much.” 

It was only once the yearning and eagerness came back to light his eyes that you continue, sitting up on all fours so you could crawl upwards. Hips dangling precariously above his face, you could see a quirk of his eyebrow before he looked up at you once more, gaze dripping in wonder. 

“You gonna sit on my face, hmm? Let me taste you?” he rasps, hands moving from their invisible restraints to slide up the outside of your thighs. You let him explore for a brief moment, savoring the sensation of calluses dragging against your soft skin, before you grab his wrists, pinning them back above him.

“Only if you’re a good boy for me.”

 A giggle escapes you at his expression, but before he could protest you lower yourself to his mouth, letting out a sigh when puckered lips immediately latch onto your throbbing clit. He drags his tongue against it before tugging it between plush lips, suckling harshly, your eyes rolling back as you grip the couch to steady yourself. 

“Fuck, Jungkook,” 

Grinning against your core, he alternates his attack, lapping your wetness, licking the length of your vulva before focusing again at the hardened bud at your apex. Just when your thighs start to tense, your high within reach, he moves back to tonguing your slickened core slowly, moaning as he tastes you like a man starved.

Reaching down, you grab a fistful of his hair, pulling him closer to your aching center, briefly regretting your decision to not let him touch you - but too stubborn to lift the request. “You’re so good, baby.” you mewl, hips rutting against him. “So good to me, I’m so close, please don’t stop.” 

Jungkook’s tongue lashes against your cunt with a renewed fervor, your praise spurring him on with the only goal being to satisfy you. As the band in your stomach tightens, your thighs start trembling, making him groan against you before focusing  on your clit, the vibrations of his mouth proving to be too much alongside the onslaught of his suckled kisses. 

With a cry of his name you tumble over the edge, releasing the pent up orgasm with a flood of liquid arousal, Jungkook lapping up every drop as you give it to him. He’s whispering praise all the while, telling you how good you did for him, how delicious you taste - taking care of you even as he guides you through the crest. Feeling weak as you come down, you shudder a breath, hand reaching to stabilize you on the couch edge long enough to move away from that dangerous mouth of his. 

“God, that was so hot, Y/N, you’re so good to me,” his voice is rough, gravelly with misuse. Unable to stop himself, his arms come to cradle your shivering form to his chest, laying you completely on top of him. 

You give in, allowing  yourself time to catch your breath and regain stability in your wobbling bones. His hand smooths against your hair, cooing softly at you. When you feel firmly returned to earth, Jungkook shifts, moving as if he wanted to pin you beneath him.

 “Are you going to be good for me now?” he smirks, eyebrow raised in cocky defiance, the kind only earned from having the skills to back it up.

Returning the smile, you shake your head, pushing his chest back down to the couch. “Absolutely not, who said I was done with you?”

A retort dies on his lips at the sight of you slinking down his legs, hands pulling his sweatpants on your descent, his cock red and dripping in precum as it slaps taunt against his abdomen. Sucking a digit into your mouth, you pull it out with a lewd pop to trace lightly up and down his length, stopping to swirl it around the leaking head. 

The thick cords of muscle in his tattooed clad thighs tense at the light touch, and his hips rise to chase the contact. “Baby, you’re going to kill me, please,” he whines, and it’s sweet  music to your ears.

“Hmm, want me to touch you? To taste you?” you murmur, dropping your head to kiss lightly up his shaft - just enough pressure to let him know you were there, but not enough for any sort of relief.

“God, I want you so fucking bad,” he mumbles frantically,  words tying around his tongue thickened with lust. “Please, baby. I’d do anything. You want me to beg? I’ll get on my knees,” 

He cuts off with a moan when you slip the tip into the molten heat of your mouth, worshiping the sensitive flesh with your tongue, sucking gently. He’s bucking now, desperate to feel more, but you pull back enough to not allow his cock to sink further into your mouth, content to lap at the reddened head until he was dripping. 

Savoring the hardened lines of his body and the lecherous way he was looking at you for a moment longer, you finally acquiesce, dragging your mouth down his shaft until you could nuzzle the hairs at his pelvis. The growl that rumbled through his chest was your reward, his hands now sliding through your hair to tug at your scalp. 

“Fuck, so good,” he babbles, gulping for air. “Feels so good, you’re so good to me.”

Pacing yourself, you glide up and down, tongue swirling around velvet steel as you take him fully, one hand cupping around his base. While his length was impressive, it was the girth that took you time to adjust to, and once you were used to the heaviness on your tongue you increase your speed, taking him as far back into your throat as possible before swallowing around him.

Jungkook cries out, your name tumbling from his lips as his hands tighten in your hair. He thrusts shallowly up into your mouth once, twice, before he hisses, pulling you off of him with a grunt. 

“I-I can’t, you can’t keep doing that,” he stutters, licking the salt off his lips. “If you do, I’m going to come.”

Grinning, you slide your fist that had been holding him steady up his shaft, squeezing lightly. “What if that’s what I want? What if I want you to make a mess for me?”

The cock in your hand pulses at your words, and pride swells in your chest, a wicked light brimming in your eyes. “Jungkook?” your free hand moves to cradle the weight of his balls, massaging gently. “Would you let me?”

He whines, head slamming back into the pillows as he gives in to your tease. “Did I mention that you’re going to be the death of me? Because if not, I would like to make sure that statement is on record.”

“Well, that’s not an answer.”

Bucking his hips, his hands slide from your hair to rest on top of your own. “Yes,Y/N. I’d let you do whatever you want to me. I’d let you wreck me thoroughly and I’d thank you for it when it was over,” he pants, before pulling your grip off his throbbing arousal. 

Pouting, you watch with narrowed eyes as he sits up, his inked palm coming to caress your cheek. “But right now,” he timbers, voice low, “I want nothing more than to feel you, bury myself inside you. To have your tight pussy squeezing around me as I come. ” 

Tracing the lines of your lips, he leans to ghost his mouth against yours, breath intertwining. “Will you let me?” he whispers, imitating your words, nosing down to your pulse point, your throat. A surge of desire had your thighs pressing together, your nipples pebbling as he scorches your neck with the fire of his tongue. 

Shoving him down, you straddle him once more, wasting no time to reach behind you to firmly grasp his cock and sheath it into your awaiting heat. You both moan at the plunge, his thickness stretching you deliciously until the pressure ebbed into pleasure.

Once you are fully seated, you lean over him, watching his face intently as you roll your hips gracefully, slowly. Jungkook angles up far enough to pull a nipple into his mouth, encircling it with tongue until you were groaning for him. Inked arms snaked down to grasp at the meat of your ass, dragging you back and forth, your engorged bundle of nerves grinding deliciously against his pelvis. You couldn’t help but to keen loudly, gasps for air becoming more desperate as your unhurried pace tortures you both into delirium. 

It’s then he speaks, tone husky as he admires you. “You are so perfect, so beautiful, baby,” he presses swollen lips into your neck, your collarbone, your breast. “Perfect for me.” 

His hands slide up to grasp your hips, fingers pressing so deep you were sure they’d leave small bruises in his wake. Moving to plant his feet firmly against the couch, he starts to thrust up into you, his assault relentless as his tight grip pins you in place. Crying out, you throw your head back, eyes closing against the euphoria of him stroking every sensitive spot inside of you on each plunge. 

“So good, taking me so good,” he croaks, voice thick with lust. “God, look at you. Falling apart for me.”

You clench then, tightening around his cock and making him choke on a moan. “I can make you fall apart for me t-too,” you breathe, placing your hands on his broad chest to help you meet each snap of his pelvis.

“I know you can, baby. You can make me do anything,” his eyes meet yours then, intense and overflowing with admiration. “I worship you, f-fuck. Love you, I love you so much.” 

You try to hold eye contact, but his pace is relentless, his cock filling you to the brim, ravaging you with stamina only he could possess. “I love you too, Jungkook,” moaning, you start to meet each thrust, chasing your high. 

He can tell you’re close, tell by the way your eyes are squeezed tight, your cheeks blooming pink, mouth agape in a silent scream. He sits up, settling you onto his lap so he could be face to face with you. “Open your eyes, I want to see you,” he hisses, hands still guiding you to bounce on his length. “I wanna watch you come for me, wanna come with you.”

Prying open your heavy lids, you meet the matchbook fire in his gaze, feeling yourself tighten around him at the carnal lust he assaults you with. You were close, so close, and when he whines out another melody of your name, you feel the thinned  band finally snap, throwing you into your second orgasm.

Jungkook fucks you through it, composure lost when you clench around him like a vice, and he reaches his peak as you’re coming down, groaning as he spills himself inside of you. It takes his hips a moment to catch up, stuttering a few final snaps before resting, and then he’s tugging you down to him, pressing your form tightly to his own.

Heavy panting filled the room, and you let the rhythmic beating of his heart bring you back to earth, lull you until your eyes were heavy with fatigue. Jungkook was still inside you, and you could feel him softening though he made no indication of moving. An inked hand rose to sink into your hair, scratching your scalp soothingly. 

“You’re the best at distractions,”

“I know.”

Licking his dry lips, he whistles lowly. “Spend the night with me?”

You chuckle, sliding your palm to rest on his chest. “I live here, you dummy.” Humming, you trace the patterns of the designs etched into his skin serenely . “We should still talk about it, though. What’s bothering you.” 

He stiffens beneath you, letting loose a shaky breath. Silence envelopes you both, so you continue. “You know I have no regrets about the choices I made, about choosing you. I can protect myself. And I’ll always defend you, Jungkook.”

“I know,” he starts, tone shifting. “I always knew my lifestyle would bring some challenges, and I was ready to face them. But when it affects the people I love - when it affects you - I just,” he pauses, chewing on his lip as he searches for the words. “I just hate it.  I know you don’t need me to, but it makes me want to shield you from the world. Lock you away with me, safe from everything. Just the two of us.”

Your heart squeezes tightly at his words, at the sincerity in his voice. You don’t like that he’s worried over you, but you also understand that this is just him, his heart. He will always want to shelter those he loves from pain, and it’s one of the million reasons you trusted him with your life - loved him so deeply.

“We’ve done a pretty good job at that the last few days, I think,” you smirk, resting your chin on his chest to meet his eyes. “We can get through anything as long as we’re together, you know?”

Jungkook grins then, one of his wide ones that crinkles his nose and shows off his teeth, and the rush of love that hits your veins makes you dizzy. 

“I know, baby.” 

You continue to talk for a few more moments, content to be wrapped up in his embrace, despite the fact that you were both nude and in great need of a shower. When you finally move to stand, stretching your limbs over your head, another thought crosses your mind.

“Wait, I need to know - what did you tell the hostess that day? At the tea parlor?” 

Jungkook rises to full height next to you, hair sweaty and flopping into his eyes. He tilts his head, expression sliding into one more serious. “I told her that I was glad she knew who I was, because then she knew what would happen if she ever so much as looked at you the wrong way again…” he trailed off, stepping closer to give you a glimpse of his cold glare, a small taste of the power he possessed.  

“And that is I would leave her a terrible review on Yelp. I’m talking abysmal, zero stars, and a detailed essay on just how unprofessional she was. Tell all my friends to do the same. She’d be lucky to have a job by the end of the week when I was through.”

You stare at him wide eyed for a beat before laughter overtakes you, arms rising to slide around his neck, pulling him closer. He was trying - and failing - to keep the serious look on his face, eyes glittered with mischief, chuckles rumbling low in his chest. Pecking the side of his upturned pout, you sigh dreamily. 

“My hero.”

[remsmoonlight]

— title : battle scars

— word count : 2.1 k words

— pairing : daryl dixon x reader

— summary : during a quick run, you fall into some trouble with some walkers though daryl’s love language is spoken with actions and not words.

— warnings : mentions witnessing death, near death experiencing, extremely minor cursing, mentions of blood and gore

           ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　requested     　/     requests are open    *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

okay so i requested this a while ago to someone else and they said they’d write it but i never found it  and i forgot who i asked so i might of missed it, but maybe a walker grabs readers hair or something so she looks for something to tie it up with and daryl gives her his bandana and she just decides to claim it or some cute shit like that??? it’s okay if you don’t wanna♥️♥️

Shap rays penetrate effortlessly through the barred windows, the tatty scraps of cloth providing little protection against the blinding morning sunshine. You pull your arm to cover your eyes, not quite ready to be released from the grips of your slumber.. the nights before a run have always been the most troublesome. Your mind running through every which way the day could turn out, pleading to your mind to focus on the positive outcomes that are always on the table of possibility. Both the positivity and negativity keeping you awake into the late hours.

The only consolation being when you were gifted the image of a blanket of stars over the dark sky, free from any light pollution that was known among many.

“ time to get your ass up, sleepy head. “

You don’t need to remove the arm that lays heavily draped across your head to know who’s familiar drawl that belongs to. Daryl Dixon. His voice in being a quite distinct quality about him. Though there’s more than that you think humorously as a smirk that lazily snakes its way onto your lips.

“ yeah, yeah. I’m up. “ you respond to him as you find yourself focusing on his form in the doorway, clutching the bed linen that serves as a makeshift door in his grip. Your mind wonders if you’ve ever seen him in a state of inactivity that held no tension .

Members of the group continue to filter into the main hall at a leisurely pace, sleep still clinging to their backs in a losing battle.

Sitting off to the side, your gaze settles to the lone male. Daryl nods from you to the space across from him, a bowl laid across from him.

“ thanks for saving me some breakfast. “ you speak, breaking the silence as you pick up the spoon and lifting a heap of oats onto it. Knowing you would need the energy, of course, the world ending brought a new meaning to breakfast being the most important meal of the day.

“ yeh, don’t need ya collapsin’ on me now. “

Amusement tugged at both corners of your mouth as you peer at him, even after all the time had passed, he still doesn’t want to show how much he cares for the people in the group. Even the newcomers from the Woobury group. Of course, you know.. you see what it means to him see everyone safe, to avoid losing yet another member of his new found family to the rotting fingers of death. The finality of death landing heavier blows on his already bruised heart over again is not something he wishes to fall victim to.

“ you know you’ll never get rid of me, I’ll haunt you from my grave! “ you say, joy lighting up your features as you chuckle, momentarily forgetting your breakfast.

A silence embeds itself comfortably between the two of you, something that becomes less and less awkward every time you find yourself in the vicinity of the man. Human contact and communication had to be quickly developed and it wasn’t long before you became comfortable chatting with everyone as if you had known them for years, but Daryl isn’t completely like those members in your group. He speaks with his actions and it took you long enough to realise that, which is why you found no awkwardness sneaking itself around your throat to force words to fall from your lips unwillingly.

“ so, where are we going first? “

“ ‘saw there was a sports store a few miles out a few days ago. they’ll have some’a those bike chains for those fences. “

Nodding in response, you understand it’s nothing more than a simple task. Though, nothing is truly simple now, even something so minor can cost you your life. The first few days you had spent up at the quarry were plagued with nightmares, every day when you saw the sun begin to dim roused a deep fear that bled into your heart, opening a deep pit in the bottom of your stomach, thinking about the rotting corpses and the frenzied deaths of those you loved. The night time cradled your worst moments, to have to close your eyes and to only be left alone with your thoughts would haunt you endlessly.

Shaking your head to yourself, you rid yourself of that dark energy clouding above you. You have dedicated a lot of time and drive to make progress, it’s not something you yearn to be thrown away as if it were nothing.

“ are we going to pick anything else up, or is it just those? “

“ nah, no use gettin’ ourselves killed. “ he responds, focusing on eating breakfast.

You nod your head swiftly, you certainly can’t argue with that logic! Knowing others have lost their lives or have been horribly injured attempting to go the extra mile.

“ well, I won’t be disagreeing with that plan. quick and simple. “

“ sounds like.. “

He lifts his line of sight to stare at you as his sentence trails off into silence, a passing moment crawling along almost uninterrupted before the realisation of what he meant erupted in your mind. He’s talking about you!

“ that’s so rude! “ you say with wide eyes, creasing up and shaking with laughter.

“ I ain’t wrong. “

Even Daryl begins to ease up and chuckle to himself, a small part of him had been cowering in the corner thinking that his words may have been too offensive, even for you. But seeing the sparkle in your eyes as you find amusement is enough to banish it permanently.

The two of you leave the confines of the prison, your arms are locked around his midsection as you are settled behind him on the motorcycle. The speed of it hit a steady pace, the scenery around you nothing more than passing blurs merging into a melting pot of Earth tones.

Slowing to a stop, the two of you get off the bike and make your way into the abandoned store, your eyes scan it in its entirety. Confidence fills you in the thought that it is older than you and definitely had seen better days. Dirt and grime lined the structure from the bottom, sliding up the walls to the top of it. Your brows burrow in repulsion, though surely it can’t be as bad as the prison. Or how it used to be..

“ stay back. “

You watch as he bangs a hand against the grungy window, hardly anything could be seen through the layer of dirt that had made its home there. A visual picture certainly would not be helping either of you this time.

It took around two minutes for a series of slams against the windows to startle you, your heartbeat begins to speed up slightly at the suddenness of the noise. Even when you’re expecting the arrival of walkers, they still manage to catch you off guard. The two of you nod to one another, you move to open the door for four walkers to pile out. Your attention is kept to the two who made a beeline for your body. You step backwards with your knife now in your hand, hoping to create distance between the two of them for you to be able to stab one of them.

One of them grabs your shoulders, immediately your hand goes to shove one of its away from yours. Momentarily it loses grip and trips into you, luckily your hand with the knife is faster than you realise and you feel the resistance its skull and brain give you but you’re stronger and ensure it hits the mark. The change is instantaneous, the walker descends quickly, taking you with it. All your strength and fight is dedicated to pushing the dead weight off of you, your arms make progress as it falls next to you with a thud.

Scrambling to the space next to you to retrieve the knife still sleeping snugly within its head, your breath is ragged from the physical exhaustion and stress of the situation. Your eyes are wide with fear and it takes more strength than you realise to pull it out with a sickly squelch, a darkened liquid coats the once shining blade. Though you have little time to study its form before you feel fingers clawing at your hair, the surprise causes you to drop the knife and your hands to move towards the decaying ones who have secured their grip.

Screams erupt from your lips as your fingers move upwards, pushing what you guess is the walker’s snapping mouth that feels so close. Close enough that you’re unable to distinguish if the breaths you feel close to your neck is from the walker or your imagination. Never before had you felt like a prey animal before, you’re too close to death for your liking, you’d seen people turn from being bitten and to be seconds away fills you with dread. Your fight becomes less and less by the passing second, your body is too tired to fight itself and the walker at the same time, incapacitation is becoming your reality.. warning to confront you one step at a time.

One moment all you can hear are snarls and a warm pain that shoots through the roots of your hair, the next it feels like time has stopped. The grip that was once securely locked is now absent, you don’t know where to look.. all you know is you don’t want to look behind you.

“ y’alright? “

Your sight moves upwards, squinting as you take in the face in front of you. It’s Daryl.

“ uh, I -- “ your voice breaks at the end as you reply, shock overwhelming your body. You drop your head towards the ground in disturbance, refusing to allow your emotions to spiral, you focus on a spot on the ground.

Daryl moves towards you, his gaze checking you over, though begins to search through your hair to make sure the walker has not scratched or punctured your skin with its filthy teeth. Seeing you in that state with the walker so close to dimming your light pushed him, pushed him to fight harder than he has with a few walkers. He knew he could have sent a bolt through its skull, but rage filled his entire being as it drove him. Sending him in its direction and sending a blade through it with his entire force.

“ hey, it didn’t get ya. y’hear me? it didn’t get ya. “ he says, bringing your attention back to him. Though whether it was confirmation more for his benefit or yours, he can’t tell.

“ I never even.. I knew, I.. “

“ y’ain’t got your battle scar yet. “

“ not with you around, luckily. “ you reply with a shake of your head, a soft tone is all you can muster in that minute.

Even in spite of yourself and how you feel, a light chuckle coming from you dusts the air gently as if it never occurred. Shaking your head with a smile that barely registers you push yourself onto your knees and make a move to stand. He’s there to help you up, a tender force clutches your upper arm that you almost fail to associate with him.

The both of you share the same thought unknowingly, that your entire being feels nothing but sensitivity. Shock from enduring the ordeal leaving your body made from nothing more than glass that could shatter at a moment’s notice.

“ hey.. “

A bandana is dangling in front of your vision, confused, you take it into your fingers. Your touch feels the rough material as you run your fingertips across it. Like a light bulb, understanding lights your features up with the power of a thousand suns. Your hair is gathered over to one side, collected to form something of a braid now rests over your shoulder.. with the bandana keeping it together.

“ thank you, Daryl. “ gratitude coats your words, you are extremely thankful for his intervention “ this is mine now though.. “ you inform him, a hand moving to finger the material that now has a new home in your hair.

“ yeah, y’wish. “

“ I meant what I said though, thank you. if you weren't here I’d be one of them. “ a sigh from your mouth releases, a shudder crawling its way through yourself. The shake being easily visible.

“ that ain’t ever gonna happen, I ain’t gonna let it. “

A dull smile pulls at the corners of your lips, a sadness coating your expression at his words. Moving towards him gradually, your arms slide around his midsection. Knowing that those promises can’t always be fulfilled, but that’s Daryl a thought crosses the centre of your mind. He always wants to save everyone. You barely register the light weight of two palms on your back, but a warm light grows in size within you at the realisation.

“ you can let this bandana be mine though.. my good luck charm when you’re not around. “

“ fine. “ Daryl gives in, a hint of laughter in his response as he speaks to you.