#he gives into peer pressure hes the worst | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itneverendshere · 4 months ago

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LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - FIVE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mention of pregnancy; abortion; lack of self-care

You’ve had to make a lot of unfortunate decisions in your life.

Choosing a place for your entire family to rest for eternity, picking the caskets, the headstones—it felt like deciding which curtains to buy for the house, except you were burying your entire close family.

After the crash, your parents were gone instantly, just like that—no goodbyes, no warning, just there one moment and gone the next.

But your sister survived. Three days. You thought maybe that was a sign, she’d live despite everything, and you wouldn’t be left alone.

Two weeks later, the doctors told you it was time, but you couldn’t accept it. You held her hand, begging her to stay, telling her every promise you could think of if she opened her eyes.

When the monitors finally went flat, you couldn’t feel anything but desperation. Rafe had to pull you out of there, his arms locked around you while you kicked and screamed, sobbing and begging your sister not to go, not to leave you here.

You fought him with everything you had left, clawing, crying, pleading for just one more second. You were screaming so loud you didn’t even recognize your voice. Everything good had been ripped away from your hands, there was nothing left of the world you’d known.

After that, you remember sitting in some stuffy funeral home office, skimming through catalogs and hardly seeing the pages through your tears. The caskets all looked the same, the types of wood made no difference to you, fabric linings, all of it felt so wrong.

None of it was a choice you should have to make.

It was unthinkable to be contemplating about gravestones. How could you sum up your family in limited words or dates, let alone choose a font for it?

You just picked something neutral and blank, something that didn’t require thought or emotion because, by then, you had nothing left to give.

Now you were trapped again, caught between a rock and a hard place.

Your first thought had been telling Topper, your only real family left, but he was as much Rafe’s as he was yours, and when it came down to it, he was still his best friend. Loyal to him since they were five, and jesus knows how he’d react if he found out about this. He’d most likely freak the fuck out and tell Rafe everything, thinking he was doing the right thing, or worse, letting it slip to Ruthie.

Ruthie—no chance you’d involve her. She’d just see this as another fucked up piece of gossip she could hold over your head, another way to judge or control you. She was “friend” only in the loosest sense of the word.

Kelce was the last person you’d consider turning to for something this serious. He has always been there, but you never got close. He was too much of an instigator, always pushing Rafe to do reckless things he’d regret later, peer pressuring him in ways that made you wonder if he even knew what loyalty meant. He had this weird loyalty to Ruthie, defending her comments as if she was some misunderstood angel when really, she was just… mean.

So that left Sarah.

It felt weird, thinking of her as the person you’d call on for something so serious, she was the only one who felt… safe. She wouldn’t judge, wouldn’t pry, she’d seen what the worst kind of family conflict could do, and she’d keep this private, just for you.

It’s then you recognized how small your world was. How few people were truly yours.

You were pretty sure no one in this town would fully understand, they’d just offer their "advice," as if they knew you, seen what you’d been through.

The truth was, they didn’t know shit. They hadn't seen you holding your sister’s hand, begging her to stay alive. They didn’t know what it was like to bury everything that made you feel like a person, like you belonged somewhere, and have to get up the next day like nothing happened.

Nine days, you would be halfway across the country, and you needed someone. You pictured saying it out loud: “I’m pregnant", just those two words, to someone’s face, you had no idea what to say next.

Maybe you’d tell them that it wasn’t about wanting it gone out of spite or shame, but because you couldn’t bring a child into a world where you felt this alone.

Earlier that morning, you’d stared down at your phone, thumb itching to click on Sarah’s name, like just pressing "call" could fix everything. You despised how needy it made you feel—reaching out, when you’d prided yourself on surviving alone.

You didn’t have much time to ponder about it, because you were stuck at the beach cleanup.

Just like every other summer, another "social responsibility" event that your late father’s foundation insisted you smile through. Even back then, when they were alive, your summers were a carousel of charity galas, fundraisers, endless hours of small talk, and impeccably arranged seating charts.

The board members of the foundation probably thought it would “ground” you—remind you of your privilege, of your “responsibility” to give back. As if a couple of hours and a few bags of garbage would somehow balance the scales. They never seemed to understand how much of it was all for show, this shallow idea that if you looked the part, no one would care to learn more.

But, still, you’d show up. You always did. Smile, make just enough small talk to appease the right people.

Today, it was just you, a few kids and teens dotted along the beach with oversized trash bags. It wasn’t even noon, but the sun felt like it was scorching you alive. It was laughable, really, standing under this blistering sun with a cheap trash bag and an endless stretch of sand to clean.

Kie, who was so genuinely invested in this whole “save the planet” thing it was almost enviable was there too with JJ, who was running around her as usual, wearing his ‘I’m just here for the ride’ expression but enjoying himself. The love between them made you miss having someone who cared in ways that weren’t just calculated moves.

She waved at you from the shoreline, her eyes moving to the trash bag you were barely half-filling.

You weren’t friends, but if Sarah liked her, you did too.

You offered a faint smile back, tired, because between all the shit you’d been thinking about, you'd forgotten to eat, to drink anything, and every time you leaned down to grab another crumpled plastic bottle or a bit of seaweed-laden garbage, you felt like your legs were about to give out on you.

Every now and then, she would throw a quick, appraising glance your way, like she was expecting you to miraculously become invested in the beach’s ecosystem.

You didn’t have it in you to pretend this was enjoyable today. The “effortless” philanthropy your family loved was a lifestyle you’d never bought into. It didn’t matter how many smiling photos of you had ended up on some charity’s social media—you knew you’d rather be anywhere else.

You had to take a break every few minutes, leaning against a pier post, trying to get yourself together as a few of the younger kids gave you wary glances. You could have left—probably should have.

You managed a tight-lipped smile, giving a thumbs-up that said, Just doing great over here, guys!

You were in a long t-shirt, which hung over your bikini and shorts, the fabric slightly oversized, to help hide what was still a small change in your body. Paranoia was your new best friend, always worrying that someone would notice something different, even if you didn’t have a noticeable bump yet.

Bending down to grab another plastic bottle, you felt a stab of nausea hit you hard, rolling up from your stomach, thick and sour, but you ignored it. Not here. Not now.

You straightened up too fast, and your vision blurred slightly, that familiar sense of vertigo hitting you. You took a shallow breath, ignoring the burn at the back of your throat, your hands shaking slightly as you adjusted the bag slung over your shoulder.

One girl looked up at you with these wide eyes kids like to pull, “Are you okay?”

You smiled, brushing it off as if you weren’t about two seconds away from collapsing. “Of course. Just... need a second.”

The kids were watching you again, with that look of curiosity. You couldn’t look them in the eye. It wasn’t their fault. They just didn’t understand that sometimes the grown-ups didn’t know what they were doing either.

Just a few more bags of trash and you’d be able to get back to your car, maybe grab some water from the cooler in the trunk, sit down, and think about it.

This used to be easy, you got a weird kind of enjoyment from these cleanups, running around with your sister, making it a competition to see who could pick up the most trash, laughing until your stomachs hurt over stupid jokes about jellyfish and sunscreen. Back then, this was just one of a thousand little family traditions, one of those things that felt effortless.

Now, sweat dripped down the back of your neck, making your skin prickle uncomfortably.

You’d long given up wiping it away, knowing that it would only come back thicker and hotter the next second. Every instinct told you to run off to the parking lot, and sit in the car with the AC blasting until your body remembered it didn’t hate you.

Leaning down for one last bottle wedged in the sand, your legs wobbled and gave way beneath you. Just like that, your vision was spotty, as if someone had turned down the brightness on the entire beach, and you pitched forward.

Just as you felt yourself going down, a hand caught your arm, pulling you back up.

"Whoa, whoa, you okay?" A teenage boy, maybe sixteen, gripped your arm firmly, keeping you upright.

How much longer could they realistically expect you to go on, plastering on that sweet, dutiful smile? How much “grounding” could one person take?

You blinked, trying to clear the haze in your eyes, "I’m fine. Just a little lightheaded, really, it’s fine,” you insisted, but then a shadow loomed beside you.

Your vision was so foggy that it took seconds for you to register it.

You looked up slowly, feeling a familiar drop in your stomach as you realized who it was.

The last time you’d been this close to him, the two of you had been screaming insults across the room, Lily having to physically step in. She’d forced him to leave before you two killed each other. It was a miracle you hadn’t punched him then and there.

“You should sit down.”

It felt like a sidekick to your chest.

The sound of his voice was grinding on your nerves, and just like that you were stuck back in your dream, a real memory, leaning against him, his hand playing with a strand of your hair as he laughed at something you’d said, the two of you carefree under a golden sunset.

Except this was real.

Rafe was shirtless, with his board tucked under one arm, surf wax staining his fingers, and the sun glinting off his damp skin, like he was God’s gift to the Outer Banks. His buzzed hair was dark and wet, droplets trailing down his temples and catching along his jawline. His cheeks were flushed, a little red from the heat.

You looked away, somewhere over his shoulder, anywhere but at him, refusing to let him see you in this fragile state.

“Go away. I’m fine.”

But he didn’t move.

He’d been summoned from your absolute worst memories, catching you at your lowest when you least wanted his help. Typical.

“No,” he refused firmly, with that stupid, stubborn look that made you want to throw something at his head. “I’ve seen you almost fall three times now.”

“Maybe if you stopped looking at me like a creep, you wouldn’t have to see me ‘almost fall.”

“I wasn’t—"

You grounded your teeth, “Just go back to surfing.”

Rafe let out a dry laugh, shaking his head as if you were the one acting crazy. “Yeah, 'cause you look perfectly stable right now.”

He'd always been a master of the passive-aggressive half-sneer, the art of making you feel like everyone else was imposing on his day, no matter the situation.

“Don’t act like you care.” you snapped, voice carrying over the sand, earning a few glances from nearby kids.

He ran a hand over his face, looking around as if he didn’t want to be there any more than you did, mouth pressed into a tight line. You wanted to scream that this was his fault too, that every choice he’d made led to you standing here alone, exhausted, and terrified.

“Water would help, y’know”, his tone just shy of patronizing “You can’t go around dehydrating yourself just to make a point.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Your fingers twitched with the urge to send him stumbling to the other side of the beach, you knew that any sudden movement would make you light-headed again, and the last thing you wanted was to give him more proof of your weakness.

The kid—still standing there, eyes wide and darting between you both—looked like he was watching a reality TV show when Kiara appeared at your side.

“Let’s not do this here,” she begged under her breath, handing you a bottle of water she’d brought over, a kindness you didn’t want but couldn’t reject. “Just sit down for a second, please?”

JJ followed, always with that air of easygoing nonchalance, but his eyes were serious as he glanced from you to Rafe.

“She’s right. Just take a second, yeah?” He looked over at Rafe, “Maybe you should leave,” he said pointedly.

“Maybe you should mind your fuckin’ business Maybank.”

“Look, uh,” the kid stammered, knowing he could get caught in the crossfire. “I’ll… I’ll go see if anyone needs help further down the beach…”

You waved him off, your focus still locked on Rafe as the kid all but bolted away, you didn’t want anyone to think they had to “rescue” you.

You tried to take a step back, but the little strength you had in you disappeared as you felt your knees wobble.

"Jesus," you heard him groan, and then his hands were on your arms, board on the sand, holding you as you stumbled. "I told you to sit down."

You shook his hands off, "Don’t tell me what to do.”

It was hard to believe the two of you had once burned hotter than any bonfire, two people who got under each other’s skin, in love, and in hate.

He let out an exasperated sigh while you took a sip from the water Kiara handed you, ignoring how your hands were still shaking around the bottle.

She spoke again, trying to be the voice of reason, "We’re here to help the community, remember?"

JJ smirked, "Yeah, think the sea turtles are rooting for y’all to work out your issues somewhere else.”

You ignored his joke, keeping your eyes on Rafe, your pride and stubbornness refusing to let him win, “I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

He looked you over, his gaze fixed to your warm cheeks and the dewy sheen across your temple, “You look real fine, don’t you?” He didn’t even try to cloak his sarcasm.

God, he could be so exasperating.

He couldn’t understand. How could he even think he could look at you now and know anything about who you were? Standing there, with that stupid board and that look, like he couldn’t imagine anything bothering him as much as this seemed to be bothering you.

As if he hadn’t already ruined you in so many ways that felt impossible to get over.

“Don’t you have something better to do?”

“Oh, believe me, I do,” he drawled, his eyes trailing from the waves back to you.

You were tired of this game, of fighting him every time he showed up only to leave you feeling even emptier than before.

Your fists clenched, and you opened your mouth to hurl something back, but the dizziness hit you again. Before you could compose yourself, Rafe’s arm wrapped around your waist, strong and frustratingly secure, holding you upright with an ease that made your skin crawl.

He had seen you at your weakest, had been there at the hospital after the accident, keeping you together when you were certain you’d break.

Yet, here you were, in a sick way, back in his arms, all broken apart.

“That’s it. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“I hate to say it, but he’s right,” JJ chimed in, hand shielding his eyes from the sun.

The world alone had all kinds of alarms going off in your brain. You fought back instinctively, your hands pushing at his chest, freeing your arm.

“I told you, I’m fine.”

He let go, but he didn’t back away.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes, “You think I don’t know what fine looks like? I was there.”

He was there. And you didn’t want to be reminded of it, not in front of other people.

He meant the exhaustion and hunger pains you’d welcomed after your family was gone, embraced even, because it meant you wouldn’t have to feel anything else.

You’d wanted to disappear, and he’d been there—dragging you back, forcing you to drink water and swallow bites of food, even when you pushed him away. He’d seen you at your absolute lowest, where you didn’t care if you made it through the day.

The thought of the hospital, tests, questions, you fought it, but your vision was already blurring.

You couldn’t let him find out about the baby.

Your breathing felt tighter, each shallow breath only making the spinning worse, you could sense your body giving in to the exhaustion

“Shit,” you heard him curse, sounding distant now like he was farther away.

You felt yourself sway as if the ground was opening beneath you, there was a ringing in your ears that made his voice sound muffled but you still felt his arms catching you again, holding you upright before you fell.

Waking up in a moving vehicle was like emerging from a nightmare, except somehow, this was worse, because you were no longer at the beach.

You blinked hard, desperate to wipe the fogginess in your eyes and when it did go away, you realized who was behind the wheel.

Rafe.

Your heart pounded—your desperation to keep the baby a secret, how you almost passed out at the beach, and the fact that now he was most likely driving you to the hospital.

“What the hell are you doing?” you practically screamed, your voice hoarse from the lack of water.

He didn’t spare you a glance, “You passed out, genius. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Your whole body went rigid. “Are you insane?”

“Me?” He scoffed, as he kept his focus on the road. “You practically ate sand back there. You’re not fine.”

“Turn the car around. I’ll call my driver and be fine.” You huffed like he was too dumb to understand. “I don’t need your help.”

He let out a dry laugh, still not looking at you.

“Yeah. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m letting you out of this car right now.”

“Rafe, I’m not kidding,” you warned, louder this time. “Stop. The. Car.”

He gave you a sideways glance, his grip on the wheel tightening.

“Not happening.”

Your heart hammered as you realized he wasn’t going to back down, you were driven by sheer desperation.

“Fine, then I’ll do it myself." you muttered, reaching for the door handle.

Anything to get out of this suffocating car before he dragged you all the way to the ER and they found out you were pregnant—with his baby, no less.

His eyes widened, finally snapping from the road to your hand on the handle.

“Are you crazy? Get your hand off that, I’m fuckin' serious.”

You yanked at it anyway, twisting the handle and pulling with spiteful defiance, and Rafe’s expression went from annoyed to full-on rage. He swerved the car to the side of the road, tires skidding as he slammed the brakes and practically threw the car into park.

Before he could even stop fully, you flung the door open and stumbled out, sandals sinking into the gravel as you stalked away.

You didn’t get more than a few feet, he was already bolting after you.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you muttered, digging your nails into your palms.

How the hell had it come to this? You were stuck here, pregnant with his child, and he played the reluctant hero like you needed him swooping in to save you.

Rafe reached you in two strides, his fingers were digging into his forehead, pointing at it with exasperation imprinted into every corner of his face.

“Are you out of your fuckin' mind?” He sounded like he was talking to some unruly child.

And the worst part? You could see that frustration in his eyes, the same look he used to give you when he’d reached his limit with you.

You wondered if he ever got to that point with Sofia.

What would he do if she was the one almost fainting? Would he still look like she was some colossal burden, or would he soften, maybe even smile as he fussed over her, acting like he wanted to help?

You hated yourself for caring at all.

Sofia—the one who looked like she'd been ripped off from some perfect postcard, all wide-eyed sweetness and gentle smiles. She probably never challenged him, snapped back, or made him want to pull his hair out.

There was no way he’d look at her like she was a mess, someone he just had to “deal with.” He likely saw her as easy, perfect, all soft and sweet words, everything you weren’t.

This wasn’t who you wanted to be, and yet here you were, stumbling around half-dead and pregnant with his child.

“I’m sorry, am I bothering you?” You spat the words, watching his jaw clench tighter.

He exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes.

“Unbelievable. Only you could take me trying to help and turn it into this.”

You were done. You were done with the memories, with the torment of seeing him be something better for someone else.

“Help?” You laughed bitterly, the anger engulfing you so hard it felt as if it choking you. “You think this is help? That I need you, of all people?”

He took a step back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I'm trying to help."

You hated how calm he was, how rational he sounded.

It was maddening when all you wanted was for him to get angry, to let that icy surface crack, to give you even a glimpse of something real, something that wasn’t just irritation or sarcasm.

You wanted proof that he still was affected by you, that this was the same guy who used to be everything, who’d promised you everything.

But you swallowed it down, straightening up, because there was no way in hell, you’d let him see even a hint of weakness.

“Trust me,” you shot back, “I’ll be just fine without you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a bitter smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “Get in the car.”

“No,” you said, firm and unyielding, every inch of you screaming that you wouldn’t let him decide anything for you ever again.

“Fine. Have it your way.”

In one swift move, he reached out, his hands gripping your arms with enough pressure to pull you forward, lifting you clean off your feet. Your breath caught in a furious gasp as he practically dragged you back to the car, his fingers warm against your skin, like you were just a mild convenience.

“Put me down!”

You struggled against his hold, jabbing at his chest with what little strength you could muster, but he didn’t even flinch, didn’t so much as hesitate.

“Rafe, I swear—”

He opened the passenger door with one hand, keeping a firm grip on you with the other, before finally setting you down—not gently—onto the seat. Without meaning to, tears began falling as you struggled against his hands. You could feel them wetting your cheeks, your voice was breaking, jumping to distress as you tried to twist out of his hold, feeling so small under his unrelenting strength.

He almost knelt in front of you, reaching for the seat belt with one hand, while his other remained firmly on your shoulder, holding you still. You felt trapped, impresioned as you tried to turn in every direction, hands weakly pushing him back, but he caught them effortlessly.

“Stop!” you meekly choked out, failing to shove him, the words coming out shameful.

You could feel your heart breaking all over again.

You hated that he was seeing you like this, how he dared to act like you needed him—it made your skin crawl. You hated that he could do this, like he had any right like you’d ever wanted him involved in this part of your life, let alone now.

This was a version of you only Rafe could bring out.

You glared up at him, practically shaking with rage as Rafe ignored your protests like you were nothing more than a child throwing a fit.

“Get your hands off me.”

His jaw tightened, ignoring the flailing punches and slaps grazing him, and you couldn’t stop the sob that escaped, loud and ugly.

“I’m not letting you kill yourself out of spite.”

Your chest hurt like you’d been run over a hundred times—it felt suffocating. “I hate you.”

For the first time, you thought he might actually leave you here.

His fingers stopped as if your words had made an impact, his lips pressed into a thin line. Your vision blurred as he leaned in, his touch hovering as if to wipe away the tear running down your cheek, but he didn’t, instead, he closed his hand into a fist and drew back, his face just inches from yours.

A faint, humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he clicked the seatbelt into place. He made a low humming noise, that thing he did when he was getting ready to make someone feel two inches tall.

"Yeah? Get in line."

Without another word, he pulled back, slamming the door shut, and walking around to the driver’s side.

You wiped at your cheeks, furious that he’d seen you like this, that he had the power to break you down. It was humiliating, sitting here in his car, every part of your body screaming to escape.

He got in, started the engine, neither of you spoke.

Rafe drove fast, every rev of the engine matching the churning in your stomach perfectly. You sat there, trembling, the dread building with every mile that passed. You gripped the seatbelt so hard it felt like your entire body might go numb, and stared straight ahead, breathing shallow, trying to ignore the sting in your eyes.

You bit back another wave of nausea. Weakness.

You’d already shown him too much.

You didn’t need a lecture from some doctor on how you “should’ve taken better care of yourself", let alone with Rafe there, watching, scrutinizing, acting like this was his business when he’d made it clear long ago that it wasn’t. He was in your space in the worst way, reopening all the wounds.

You were seething. He had no right to do this.

The thought made you want to drop dead—doctor would walk in, casually drop the news about the baby, and you'd be left watching his reaction in real time.

You looked at the entrance to the ER. The vision of anyone running tests, of some well-meaning nurse, coming in and spilling everything about the baby in front of him—no way. You wouldn’t let that happen.

He wasted no time getting out, moving around to your side, while you sat rigidly, staring straight ahead. His hand was already on the door, yanking it open, looking down at you like he was ready to drag you inside if he had to.

You weren’t moving. You knew the second you stepped inside, it would be over.

“C’mon,” Rafe pressed, his hand outstretched, hovering there like he thought he could compel you to listen. “Stop being so stubborn.”

You crossed your arms over your stomach, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I’m not going in.”

Rafe let out a sigh, nearing his limit, and knelt down to your level.

“Look, you passed out. I’m not leaving until you get checked out.”

“You’re gonna be here for a while then.”

“Would you stop?” His voice softened for the first time, as if he was trying to reach some part of you that he thought still cared. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, like you haven’t eaten anything that wasn’t out of a vending machine. I know you don’t want my help, but can you just stop for a second and—”

“And what?” you interrupted.

“And think! If you don’t get in there, I’ll drag you in myself.”

Your heart raced, “You wouldn’t dare.”

Rafe stepped closer; his jaw set in determination. “Try me.”

“You’re not coming in."

He blinked like the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “What?”

Maybe he was seeing the protection you’d built up around yourself since he left, how there was no longer any crack left open for him to slip through.

“I don’t need you. I don’t want you in there.”

“Fine.” His tone was clipped, restrained. “But I’ll be right here.”

You slammed the door shut behind you, not letting him your legs still shaking. You’d rather collapse face-first into the concrete than give him the satisfaction of listening to him.

“Yeah, you do that,” you replied, turning and walking toward the entrance, refusing to look back.

Stepping inside, you felt a slight tremor run through you—part relief, part panic. The lights were too bright, almost white. Your heart wobbled, replaying how he’d been such a fucking asshole to you.

You’d forgotten how mean he could be, how easily he could go from angry to something so frigid it made you want to cry yourself to sleep.

“Hi there,” The receptionist greeted, her eyes moving over you with a professional once-over, “What brings you in today?”

You forced a small smile, knowing she wouldn’t buy it.

“Just…got a little dehydrated, that’s all.”

“Okay…let’s just get some basic information.” She clicked into her computer, her fingers poised over the keyboard. “Name?”

You cleared your throat, rattling off your full name, she nodded, typing it in.

“Have you experienced any other symptoms besides dizziness?”

“Nothing serious,” you replied, dismissively. “It’s just the heat, like I said. I just need some water and I’ll be good as new.”

This had to be a fucking nightmare you got sucked in, you could sense your blood pressure spike.

She tapped her screen and glanced back at you.

“Alright, Miss Thornton, it looks like we’ll just need a few quick details here to get you all checked in. Can I start with your insurance provider?”

A chuckle almost slipped out of you. Insurance—God, you were fine with insurance. What you weren’t okay with was everything else. You answered, “Blue Cross.”

She asked for your birthdate, which you gave on autopilot, hoping she’d skip any weird or invasive questions. “Any allergies?”

You shook your head. Please, just let this be over.

“It’s really not a big deal,” You blurted out, giving her a thin smile and forcing calm into your voice. “I just need the IV. You know, standard stuff.”

“Of course, dear. We’ll get things started, it will include routine tests, like bloodwork, just to be safe.”

Bloodwork. Perfect. You were doing everything you could to keep from falling into that spiraling panic mode.

Please, just get me in, get me out, and don’t find anything.

“Just head down to Room 12.”

All you could think was that you wanted this to be over—before the whole town, or worse, he, found out. It made you want to scream. He was the last person who should be outside.

This was his fault. You’d never be here if he hadn’t shown up.

The next hour passed in seconds—questions, forms, an IV drip.

They’d done blood work, too, but you’d sighed in relief when they’d told you the results wouldn’t be ready immediately. As far as they knew, you’d just overdone it, and now, as you lay on a cot in a room that reeked of sick people, all they’d prescribed was rest, hydration, and food.

When the nurse asked if anyone could pick you up, the thought of calling someone, asking them to see you like this, made you delirious. You didn’t need anyone; you were perfectly fine on your own.

But you also didn’t want Rafe and his delusional ass to barge through the doors.

The nurse moved around you awkwardly, eyes still expectant, as if you were just a button away from a reliable “someone” to come running.

You looked at her, controlling the compulsion to yell. Little people ever bothered to check on you, to show up for more than just the drama or gossip.

Out of them, only one face bounced around in your head.

“Yeah, I got someone.”

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wttcsms · 1 month ago

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unlike most of the loud-mouthed, irritating people sae itoshi finds himself constantly surrounded by, he’s long since learned that you are not the type to openly express what you’re thinking about unless explicitly asked.

so, for you, he finds himself asking into the quiet, sleepy darkness of your bedroom, “what are you thinking about?”

“that starting tomorrow, i’m going to forget all about you.” you hum, propping yourself up by pressing your palm against the muscular plane of his chest. one of the straps of your silky camisole slips off your shoulder; it shouldn’t be as tantalizing to him as it is, but he thinks everything about you, everything you do, is designed to specifically tempt him.

he focuses on the tiny strip of fabric, on the smooth expanse of your skin, before his eyes flit back up to your face; he meets your gaze, cocks an eyebrow. “oh?”

truth be told, sae’s not a witty person. everyone lets him get the final word in because he’s got this cold aura and seemingly disinterested expression that screams “i don’t give a fuck,” but he does care. to a certain extent. he doesn’t care about the arguments he has with people; he just cares about winning. when he calls you, and you pick up, even if it’s on the second to last ring before he gets sent straight to voicemail, he considers that a win. when you open the door for him before he can even knock, he considers that a win.

when you admit that you’re thinking about him, even if it’s to say it’s because you plan on erasing him from your memory, he considers that a win.

“wanna know why?” you ask him, and he nods. if you were anyone else, he wouldn’t even care.

“‘cause i can’t handle being the girl that keeps having her ex spend the night.” you sit up fully now, removing your hand from his body. he misses your warmth the moment your touch leaves him.

“easy fix. we can get back together, then.” the two of you are practically together anyway. he cooks you breakfast the morning after, and you still wear his boxers as pajamas. his body’s pretty sensitive to most sensations, especially early in the morning, but his feet have gotten used to hitting the cold hardwood floor of your bedroom when he wakes up before dawn to brush his teeth and get his day started.

“too late. i've already blocked your number from my phone.”

he almost laughs at that. instead, he takes your right wrist, his thumb gently pressed against your pulse point; he likes to apply just enough pressure so that he can feel every beat of your heart. “yeah? i can buy a new phone, get a new number.”

“you make breakups difficult for no reason.” you tell him, but not yanking back your wrist. it’s why he feels bold enough to bring your fingers to his mouth, lightly kissing the tips of your fingers.

“we broke up?” he peers up at you, your fingers still so close to his mouth that you can feel the way he breathes life into his words. annoying. he’s so annoying. the worst part is, you’re pretty sure he’s somehow convinced himself that you ending things was just you throwing a tantrum. he’s still treating you the same as he always does.

“i broke up with you.” not like he needs the reminder.

“i don’t remember agreeing to that.”

“you don’t have to agree. breakups don’t have to be mutual.”

“i have a game next week. we’re going to be playing in france. i was thinking a day before the match, we could go visit the louvre, like you talked about.” he’s still going on casually, making plans like there was never a doubt in his mind that you’re going to show up to his game. you received the ticket he sent and somehow couldn’t bring yourself to toss it in the trash, right where it belongs, so it’s currently hiding in your nightstand drawer.

“sae, i’m not going. i’m not your girlfriend.”

well, you’re certainly his. he made sure to have you scream out a chorus of yours, yours, yours! to have it drilled into your pretty little head.

“how do you know my name? i thought you forgot all about me.” he’s holding back a smile.

“i’m forgetting all about you starting tomorrow.” you point out, and one corner of his mouth quirks up, a smug smirk on his face as he nods subtly to the alarm clock on your nightstand.

“it is tomorrow.”

you blink, before staring at him curiously. “yeah.” you say slowly, having been bested by sae itoshi once again. “what do you think i should do now, then?”

give him all your tomorrows for the rest of your life.

he doesn’t say that, though. he just pulls you in for a long, deep kiss. when you say his name, breathlessly and full of longing, he takes the time to fix the strap of your camisole, knowing it’s futile since he'll be pulling it off your body soon, anyway.

he wins.

#just a random drabble LOL #i need a writing warmup to prepare for all my actual tips #wips*#hozier's cover of do i wanna know is making me go insane #sae itoshi x reader

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woso-dreamzzz · 7 months ago

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Boys

Magdalena Eriksson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Boys are the worst

When kids are little, football teams are usually mixed.

Boys and girls.

Girls and boys.

Magda knows this. She doesn't particularly care that they're not separated. It's not really needed at this point when kids haven't gone through puberty and there's not much of a difference physically between them.

She has no problems with that.

She does have a problem with the parents of boys who think the team shouldn't be mixed.

"Good girl!" She says as you make another save.

It's been nearly a year since the move to Germany and it had taken that amount of time for her and Pernille to find you a little football team to join.

They don't want you at the Bayern academy. In fact, they don't want you at any academy until you're a bit older, when you're absolutely sure that football is what you want to do.

But this is a nice compromise.

You still get to play football but without all the pressure to perform that academies provide.

"Just push her over!" One of the dads from the opposite team yells," Are you really letting a girl beat you?!"

Ordinarily, Magda would have seen red but after the humiliating time she had the last time this happened and was subsequently told to wait in her car, she's not eager for a repeat.

So, Magda just starts clapping louder and yelling out her praise as you pass the ball off to one of the other kids.

This is a kid's football match so she can forgive a few moments of physicality. Kids can get a bit aggressive and it's clear, even to Magda's own biased eyes that you're leagues ahead of all of your peers.

In fact, that makes her puff out her chest a bit in pride.

Of course her little girl is the best one here by miles.

Your talent is obvious and your clear idolisation and perfect listening to the goalkeepers in your life has you more than prepared for a bunch of untrained kids trying to play a game of football.

So, all in all, Magda can forgive a bit of physicality.

What she can't forgive is the little boy who tugs at your hair after you save his weak shot on goal.

"Ow!" You yelp and Magda's hands clench into fists.

"That's got to be a red!" She heckles the ref, who looks to be barely out of puberty and not paid enough to deal with the yelling of parents. "Give him a red!"

"Pull her hair harder, son!" The boy's father says and while Magda can't hit a child, she can definitely hit an adult.

She shoves him back, crossing the field in quick strides to catch him off guard.

He stumbles a little before his face twists into outrage, spitting right at Magda's feet. "Watch it, bitch!"

The resemblance between you and Magda is uncanny so it's clear he knows which child is hers.

"If your kid can't take a bit of hair-pulling then maybe she should stop playing a boy's game and go back to doing her nails."

"Watch it!" Magda snaps back," Or your son is going to watch his dad lose to a girl as well."

"Go back to the kitchen!" He says back and Magda rolls her eyes," Football's a men's game!"

She expected a better insult.

At some point, they've started yelling at each other and the poor teenage referee has to slide between them to make sure no one starts swinging.

"Go to your cars!" He says," You-You can't argue in front of kids!"

So much for Magda not getting sent off again.

"Yeah!" The dad clearly doesn't know how to take a hint. "Come back when you learn how to play the game!"

Magda stalks away, throwing over her shoulder," Come back when you've won a league title!"

Magda stews in her car, arms crossed over her chest. She doesn't even turn on the radio, split between anger and working out how she's going to avoid telling Pernille she got sent to the side-lines again.

You practically skip over to the car, escorted by one of the parents that Magda's yet to learn the name of.

"Hey," She says as you pull yourself into your seat, leaning back so she can buckle your seatbelt up," How was the game?"

"You got told off," You say instead.

"I did."

"You should have punched him in the nose."

"Violence isn't the answer to arguments, princesse."

You frown. "Georgia told me that the only way to deal with mean men is to prove you're better or punch them in the nose. I proved I was better. You should have punched him in the nose."

"Of course Georgia told you that," Magda mutters under her breath before raising her voice again," But how was the match after I was sent away?"

"It was good," You say, rifling through your bag for a snack," I saved a penalty."

"You did?!" A pang of disappointment stirs in Magda's stomach. "I'm sorry I couldn't see it."

"It was the boy that pulled my hair," You say, trying to stab your straw into your juice box," He cried."

"Good."

"Yeah and then before Miss Sophia brought me over to you, he gave me a flower and told me I was cool."

Magda nearly slams on the breaks then and there. "What?"

"Yeah. It was kind of weird because he was still crying. Boys are weird."

"Yes. Yes they are."

"Are you going to get sent off next match too? Because if you are, can Momma come to my matches too? I want someone to be able to watch me."

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #the big adventures universe

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joequiinn · 8 months ago

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The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 9

[chap eight] | [all chapters here] | [chap ten]

Summary | You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

Warnings & Notes | fem reader, slow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

Author's Note | Me?? Taking another unexpected writing hiatus?? Never. But forreal, you all know how life gets. So, as a treat here's a longer chapter (that may or may not be a bit rambly) to make up for my absence. As I wrote, this just kept going and going, so I hope you all enjoy the extra few thousand words lmao

WC | 8.6k

Chapter Nine

The rest of Monday was absolute shit following your fight with Eddie. After spending the entirety of lunch break hiding out under the bleachers in an attempt to pull yourself together, facing your peers for the rest of the day was the last thing you wanted. The trek to your fifth period class was like some walk of shame, as if you were wearing some damned scarlet letter; it felt as if the entire school was watching you, waiting to see if you’d make yourself look like an idiot again or if you’d erupt. You had never felt so scrutinized before, so susceptible to judgment, but you fought tooth and nail not to give people the reaction they were hoping for.

The next day wasn’t any better. Once again, you felt the weight of everyone’s attention, you felt the pressure of all their judgment. Was this how it felt to be in Eddie’s shoes, how it felt to be a total social outcast? It was even shittier than you could have predicted, and you found yourself questioning the stupid little plan you and Eddie had been hatching that led to this.

It only grew worse as the day went on. Third period was arguably the most frustrating - you were stuck sitting next to Eddie for a whole damn hour, and he didn’t speak a single word to you. You didn’t even think it was possible for that boy to go quiet for longer than a few minutes, yet he proved you wrong, keeping his mouth zipped tight and his eyes on anything but you. Being ignored by Eddie caused your anger to flare, and if you had less self control you would’ve said something about it, would’ve given him a piece of your mind, but your frustrations had kept you, too, surprisingly silent. Or maybe it was the fear of looking stupid again.

Wednesday continued much the same way, although you felt less frustrated by everyone’s critical glances and Eddie’s willful ignorance of your existence. You thought maybe you were starting to get your shit together, that you had finally combatted all your pent up emotions and pushed them all the way down to the pit of your heart, where you'd just ignore them like you did with any challenging feelings. Hell, you were even beginning to fool yourself into thinking that you were feeling better, though deep down you knew that wasn’t true.

The worst that the week had to offer came during lunch that day, though, when you foolishly tried to approach Duncan and demand to know what the hell his deal was. You thought you had pulled yourself together well enough - you spoke with a sharp tone and a cool demeanor, but he and his gang of friends simply mocked your attempts at an argument. They did everything they could to make you feel small, but you kept it together, retreating from their harsh words with all the poise you could muster, hoping that your anger wasn’t too obvious. Their laughter and whispers wouldn't get to you, or at least you'd never show it - the whole school already saw you vulnerable once, it was not about to happen again.

Consider your reputation officially fucking ruined.

The thing that hurt more than any of their insults and derogatory words, however, was the look on Eddie’s face as you two met eyes across the lunch room, the way he watched you as you tried to march away from Duncan with your pride still intact. Eddie had been witness to the entire shitty interaction, you realized as you kept your eyes locked on his; the worry and concern so clear on his face caused a crack in your otherwise icy exterior, and you had to rip your gaze away so he couldn't see the hurt in your expression. You nearly broke down the very moment you were out of the cafeteria, the look on Eddie’s face burned into your mind.

The rest of the day was a fucking blur, and you were so emotionally worked up that you were grateful to leave school and go to the one place that could normally calm you down - the ice rink. Wednesday was always your skating day, and today you felt like you needed it more desperately than usual, thankful to spend a few hours on the ice after school. In all your moments of frustration, skating always did wonders to even you out, reminding you why you still enjoyed it after all these years - it helped calm your nerves, clear your head, and relax your heart. It helped to de-escalate your emotions, to make you think straight, and after how hard the past couple of days were, you desperately needed that.

Your anger at Duncan was still burning hot as ever, and even as you slowly relaxed you were still desperate to get back at him, not above stooping to his level. You’d have to corner him when he was alone, without his posse to back him up - then you could really hurt him with your scathing words. You also couldn’t help but wonder just how involved Amelia and Janet were in all this shit - if anything, this stunt was Amelia’s idea, but Janet? She couldn’t have been this cold and heartless; or maybe you just desperately hoped she wasn't.

As you looped around the ice far less elegantly than you normally would, you tried your damnedest not to think about Eddie, as if ignoring the thought of him would somehow remove you from fault. Now that you’ve actually had time to think about it, you knew you’d been mean to him just for the sake of it, just to let your frustrations out on someone. A younger you wouldn't have cared that you mistreated someone, would've just waved it off like a brat and moved on with your life. Hell, only a few months ago, you probably would've still found it comical to talk down to someone like Eddie the way that you did.

But you were not that girl anymore, although you also weren't emotionally ready to acknowledge that Eddie didn’t deserve your vitriol; after all, you were mean to just about everyone, what made him any different? You knew that you’d treated him badly simply because it was easy, because he was the only person there and you needed to let it out. The less prideful part of you knew that you were wrong for that, but that side of you had thus far been outweighed by your own stubbornness. Now, however, you were starting to think maybe you needed to do something about it.

On the one hand, you considered that you had no obligation to make things right with Eddie, and yet, something about that upset you. Were you really so terrible and bitchy that you’d avoid apologizing to him? Were you going to simply ignore him, if not treat him even worse than you’d already had been? That’s certainly something you would have done in the past, but somehow Eddie fucking Munson had made you a little less harsh than you once were.

No, you didn’t need to make this right, but you wanted to. Somehow, Eddie had undeniably grown on you, and at this rate he was virtually the only person you had on your side (that is, of course, if you don’t take into account his ignoring you the past two days). If anyone had even suggested a month ago that you’d be getting along so well with Eddie Munson, you probably would have gagged. What could you and a guy like him possibly have in common, what could you two possibly bond over? These were questions that you were still seeking answers to, even as you drove home after hours of skating at the rink.

Perhaps it was your sense of humor, so much more aligned with his than either of you had expected. Or maybe it was the effortlessness with which you could talk to one another, like you’d already known each other far longer than a few weeks. Hell, maybe it was that Eddie challenged you without even being mean about it, how he so simply gave you new perspectives to take into account and made you reconsider things you thought you knew.

It was strange to realize that, in your own way, you two had become almost-friends quite rapidly. Was that normal? Did other people feel so at ease with someone they’d known for only a few short weeks? You couldn’t remember what it was like when you became friends with Amelia or Janet or anyone else that ran in your former circle - had you bonded with them just as easily as you had with Eddie? Something in you suspected no.

But you tried to avoid thinking about that too much, because you certainly weren’t going to dig into it any deeper.

As you walked through the front door of your home, the silence of the house confirmed to you that your father was still, supposedly, at work. The only time you heard the buzz of electronics throughout the house was when he was around, because your mom never left a television or radio on unnecessarily. You’d bet that she was probably in the kitchen with the radio down low, just a bit of background noise to keep her company as she prepped for dinner. Or maybe she was on the phone in the home office, chatting away with one of her friends about the latest gossip in town.

You hated to admit it, but you and your mom were both used to your father not being around often - most days, he was gone before you left for school and didn’t return home until well into the evening. This had been the family’s routine for years now, so your father’s lack of interest in spending time at home no longer phased you. His absence was just as routine as your school schedule or your mom’s biweekly nail appointments.

You found it far more surprising when he was around - in fact, it almost dared to make you suspicious of him. Because you figured he never seemed interested in spending time with you or your mom, you couldn’t help but speculate what would prompt him to suddenly spend every night at the dinner table for a couple weeks, or to even suggest the family go out together on the weekend. You assumed it was some form of guilt - for a while now, you had yourself convinced that he was having an affair, so perhaps his brief bouts of attentiveness were his measly efforts to reconcile his infidelity with himself.

Of course, you’d never dare even imply this suspicion to your mother, for all you knew it could send her spiraling. And a part of you was convinced that perhaps she’d had her suspicions as well.

As you closed the front door behind you and slid out of your sneakers, you had every intention of running off to your room to avoid your mom entirely. After the week you’d had thus far, you’d rather be left alone, you didn’t want to get caught up in her usual superficial conversations. But before you could even take a step towards the staircase, your mom zipped out of the kitchen towards you, an eager shine in her eyes that almost made her appear younger. You gave her a quizzical look, taking a step back as she got just a little closer than you cared for; even with your parents, you preferred people stay at arm’s length.

“How was your day, hon?” She asked as if in anticipation of something. Your face twisted with even more confusion - what the hell was she so excited about? Was she really that oblivious to the funk you’d been in the past three days?

You stepped around your mom, intending to end this conversation quickly so you could disappear to your room. Your tone was dismissive as you replied coldly, “Not great.”

Her joy seemed to falter a little as she followed just a step behind you; clearly, whatever she wanted to talk about seemed to be important to her, “What do you mean?”

You paused to look back at her again, your agitation clear on your face as you studied her. You weren’t certain, but it seemed as if she were expecting a different response - a particular response. What exactly was she fishing for?

“Today sucked. Just like the rest of this shitty week.” Your tone was cold as you raised your brow, hoping that your attitude may deter her from asking anymore questions. Your callous word choice caused her to pull a face, studying your expression as if she were seeing you for the first time in a long time. For a moment, you thought maybe she’d actually act like your mother, you thought maybe she’d ask you what was wrong and offer a shoulder to cry on.

“I figured it’d be good,” she started with concern in her voice, putting on something of an encouraging smile, “considering the assembly on Monday.”

Dread immediately washed over you, her words causing your heart to drop into your stomach - how did she know about the assembly? The school wouldn’t have called the parents about it, they didn’t care that much. Maybe one of her friends had heard from their kid and then told her? Possibly, but not the most likely. So, how did she know?

All you could do was stare for a few tense moments, fighting to keep in all the feelings you’d just worked through on the ice rink. Your jaw tightened as you swallowed hard, attempting to quiet your mind and take a deep breath. Your intense eyes burned into your mother, who seemed to recognize that what she’d just said may have been a mistake.

“How do you know about that?” You probed with an edge to your voice, feeling as if all your emotions were going to come spilling out of you at any minute.

Although she appeared hesitant, your mom kept her composure, persisting to act bright in the foolish hopes that it would help you relax, “Amelia called while you were out.”

If your heart could drop any further, it would have. You began to feel almost out of body as you started to piece it all together, already realizing Amelia’s fucking game. She knew you wouldn’t have mentioned your dissolved friendship to your mother because of your distant relationship with your parents, and now she was using it against you. To what end? Simply to torment you more?

Receiving no response from you, your mother smiled encouragingly, still trying her hardest to keep things chipper as she continued, “She wanted to know if I’d like to be a chaperone for homecoming. She seemed so excited that both of you were nominated for homecoming queen!”

Your jaw clenched in anger, eyes growing harsher as they burnt into your mother. You had no reason to be mad at her, but at that moment your rage was coming back up, clawing its way out of you. It took everything in your power not to shout expletives in her face.

So, you turned away from her, trying to collect yourself by taking a few deep breaths. From over your shoulder, your mom continued, trying in vain to understand what was going on with you, “Honey, what’s wrong? This should be exciting news.”

You whipped around angrily, but bit your tongue as you two stared at one another, you in vexation and your mom in concern. You took one more deep breath while rolling your eyes, looking away again.

“Did Amelia tell you who I was nominated with? Or that we haven’t spoken a word to each other in nearly two weeks?” As your frustration bubbled, you met her eyes again, “Or that I was only nominated as some shitty prank? Did she mention that I ran out of the gym like a fucking coward because of how humiliated I felt?”

Your mother’s face was awash with concern as she looked between your eyes, and for a moment you really did think she’d comfort you, in fact, you were almost hoping for it. But that was quickly squashed, “Will you please watch your language? You don’t have to get so worked up.”

The upset on your face only increased - despite everything else you said, your language was the thing that concerned her most? You scoffed with frustration, shaking your head in disbelief as you all but shoved past her, keeping your wild eyes away from hers.

“You don’t even care!” You said venomously, stomping back towards your belongings left by the front door. Haphazardly, you shoved your feet into your shoes and dug around for your keys, “I’m not good right now, mom, and all you’re worried about is my fucking language! Do you care how I’m feeling?”

With a flustered look, your mom approached you, “Of course I care, but I can’t even understand you anymore! You’ve been so different recently, so much more distant. How am I supposed to know what’s going on if you won’t tell me?”

You simply shook your head, throwing your bag back on your shoulder once you had your keys. As you swung open the front door, it bounced off the wall, causing your mother to gasp at the aggressive act.

“Where are you going!?” She insisted while following you outside. You didn’t dare look back, marching towards your car as your anger continued to bubble over.

“Anywhere but here!” As you whipped around to the driver side door, you finally looked at your mother, who lingered on the front steps with a disappointed and confused expression. You were sure you looked absolutely wild and irate as you flung open the car door, carelessly tossing your bag inside and holding your mother’s gaze.

You could see that she was trying to make sense of the chaos happening right now, trying her best to keep it together as if that would calm you down now after everything that just happened. She wasn’t used to seeing you like this, so emotional and out of control - she’d seen you angrier these past couple weeks than you’d been your entire fucking life.

“Please just come back inside.” She tried earnestly, but you were too far gone to hear any of it. You ripped your gaze from hers and slammed the car door once you were settled into the seat, zipping out of the driveway fast enough that you nearly hit the mailbox.

You didn’t make it far, though, having to pull over only a minute later because you realized you were on the verge of crying. Fuck, when was the last time that had happened? You were never the type to get emotional like this, but shit, you’d had a stressful week. You had to catch your breath, to hold back your tears of anger, slamming your fists on the steering wheel a few times as if that could make everything better. You didn’t dare let a single tear roll down your face, but they were so welled up in your eyes that you could barely see, forcing you to blink and wipe them away.

What the hell were you doing? Where did you expect to go? These melodramatics felt fucking ridiculous, and you tried to convince yourself you were freaking out over nothing, although your emotions were clearly telling you otherwise. You couldn’t keep acting like this, you wouldn’t allow it - it wasn’t you, and it made you feel weak.

But shit, you felt like your world had been crashing down around you all week, and it was impossible to keep it together right now. So, you pounded your fists against the dashboard, hissing foul words while continuing to fight back everything that was swirling in your chest. You were certain that if any of your neighbors walked by your haphazardly parked car, they’d think you were having a total mental break. And maybe you were; fuck if you knew. You weren’t exactly thinking clearly right now.

After what felt like an eternity, you’d exhausted all your rage, dejectedly catching your breath and attempting to regain your composure. Shit, what were you going to do now? There’s no way in hell you’d go back home - you weren’t ready to deal with your mother again so soon. Or worse, your father, whose temper would simply set you off again.

As you swallowed down the lump in your throat, you couldn’t help but think of your fight with Eddie, and without any hesitation you accepted that right now you missed him. If you weren't so emotional, you'd have stopped to consider how strange that was. Maybe the past few days wouldn’t have been such shit if you’d just been nicer to him; maybe this was karma at work, making you miserable for how you treated him.

You had to apologize to Eddie. Right fucking now.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

As you drove through Forest Hills, you realized you’d never once set foot in a trailer park before. Looking out your windshield at the dark street, you were certain that one trailer home would maybe fill only two bedrooms of your own home. How people lived in such close quarters was something you couldn’t even comprehend, and on a normal night maybe you would’ve lingered on that thought. But considering that you came here on a mission, you were unable to become distracted; no, the anxiety that was rapidly growing in your chest kept you laser focused on the task you set out on.

It wasn’t until you reached this side of Hawkins that your fear began to mount - should you really be showing up to Eddie’s place unannounced? Is this terrible timing? What if his uncle was home? The further into Forest Hills you drove, the more worried you became. For all you knew, Eddie would slam the door in your face, tell you to fuck off and leave him alone. And after all the shit you’d dealt with this week, you couldn’t handle any more rejection.

Maybe you should just turn around and get out of here while you still have the chance.

But as that thought crossed your mind, you spotted Eddie’s van in front of one of the trailers, and your heart rate sped up to a frankly concerning pace. Shit, it was now or never. Turn back around and head home or face Eddie and his possible rejection. Frankly, both options sounded fucking awful.

For a few long moments, you simply lingered on the road, staring at Eddie’s trailer as your heart drummed in your chest; your eyes roved over the illuminated windows, half expecting to see Eddie’s silhouette appear in one of them any second now. But when no visual indicator of him appeared, you shook yourself back to the present, pulling up alongside his van with the brief thought that maybe he saw your headlights. You hesitated at that, waiting yet again to see if he’d appear in the window or at the door. Fuck, if you were going to be this nervous, you might as well just get out of here.

But you knew you couldn’t do that. You knew you had to talk to Eddie again, you had to have at least one decent relationship in your life right now. Considering that he was the closest thing you had to a friend at the moment, you had to make amends with him. Not that Eddie owed you any forgiveness, of course - again, the fear that he’d want nothing to do with you came creeping back up, even as you pulled the keys from the ignition and slowly stepped out of the car.

Fuck, what were you going to do if Eddie didn’t want to talk? You didn’t think you could manage to survive the rest of the week if he didn’t forgive you. Despite trying to ignore the thought, in a way you realized that right now you needed Eddie.

This shit better work.

You felt almost shaky as you approached the front door, hearing thrashing metal music reverberating inside the trailer. You had to take another pause at the door to collect yourself - you were not nervous like this, and you refused to appear this nervous in front of anyone. You were here to apologize, not to be vulnerable. So, you pulled yourself together with a few deep breaths, marching up to the door and knocking strongly before you could think to hesitate any longer. Considering how loud the music was, you realized Eddie probably didn't hear you, so you roughly pounded your fist against the door once again. You put on a brave face, taking one more deep breath as the music quieted and someone approached the door.

Of course, once you and Eddie locked eyes, you suddenly froze. All the things you’d rehearsed on the way over here momentarily left your head as you took in his surprised expression, the look in his eyes that suggested you were the last person he expected to see on his doorstep. For what felt like hours, the two of you stared at one another as you attempted to collect your thoughts, attempted to keep all your hurt from showing on your face.

You eventually had to rip your eyes away from Eddie, maybe then you could finally find your voice again. As you stared at his feet, you straightened out your back and clenched your jaw, trying to quiet your mind and get out at least one coherent thought. With a deep breath, you flicked your gaze back to his face.

“Can we talk?” Your voice came out strong, if not a little cold - good, at least you didn’t sound as weak as you’d been feeling recently.

Eddie’s expression was still a little taken aback, even as he tried to put on a calm, collected air. Had you not caught him so off guard, perhaps you would’ve been fooled by the lazy smirk he gave you or his seemingly relaxed posture. But given the look of near astonishment that was on his face only a moment prior, you knew he was probably just as unprepared for this conversation as you were.

“Well, since you drove all the way here…” Eddie trailed off in what was meant to be a casual tone, stepping to the side and nodding his head towards the trailer behind him. You looked between his eyes and the entryway for a moment before stepping up into his home, immediately taking it all in attentively - it was easier to focus on your surroundings than to focus on him and your emotions.

You weren’t sure what you had expected of Eddie’s home, but as you stood in his small living room, everything appeared exactly as it should have - the place was cozy, decorated with items that were clearly personal, reflecting the taste of someone so unlike your own family. Back in your own home, the art on the wall was perfectly curated by your mother, the only photos being staged family portraits; the furniture was also meticulously decided on, meant to look cohesive and clean and modern.

Here in the Munson trailer, the space actually felt lived in - the coffee table was stacked with car magazines and western paperbacks, the walls adorned with collections of hats and mugs. The furniture was worn from years of use, the kitchen was cluttered, a fold out bed was pushed off to one side - yes, this home actually had life to it, unlike the stale living environment you were so used to. Without having met the man, you already had a strong sense of Eddie’s uncle just by looking around the place.

The more you looked at the Munson home, the more your curiosity grew - you wanted to ask more about Eddie and his uncle and all the little details that made them a family. But before you could get to know any more about Eddie, first you had to actually make things right with him. So, you turned your attention back to him, briefly catching the self-conscious look on his face that he very quickly corrected - did he feel judged, having you in his home like this? Was he worried what you’d think now that you had this more intimate glimpse at his life?

The two of you stared at one another for a few long moments; Eddie was clearly anticipating what you’d say next, and you were still trying to decide where exactly to start. You raised a brow as you let out a breath, forcing yourself to look away again so you could actually speak - looking Eddie in the eye like this made it harder to apologize.

“I shouldn’t have acted like that.” You started, letting your gaze continue to roam over trinkets and decor in the living room. Off to your side, you heard Eddie hum in acknowledgement instead of saying anything, which seemed to be your cue to continue. You sighed a little, forcing yourself to be honest, hard as it may be; your voice was a touch quieter as you added, “You didn’t deserve that shit.”

“No, I didn’t.” Eddie responded with a hint of harshness to his tone, but considering the circumstances, he didn’t sound nearly as mad as you’d expected. You slowly spun around, looking anywhere but his direction so your words would come more easily.

“I… like having you around.” The sentence sounded juvenile to your ears, but you simply continued, “I know all I wanted was to stir shit up and be left alone, but the past couple days--”

You had to cut yourself off, suddenly feeling a sadness well up in your throat - you were not about to break, not right now, not in front of Eddie. So, you swallowed hard and tried to calm down before he could see the chink in your armor.

“Not so fun being on the other side of things, huh?” Eddie chimed in, saving you from yourself with his comment. You turned to him with a nod, hoping your eyes didn’t give too much away.

“Fucking sucks, actually.” You managed a small, sad smile. It looked as if Eddie, too, wanted to mirror the expression, but he kept it to himself. You took in his posture, his crossed arms and guarded look, hoping that you were getting through to him.

You let out a sigh, your gaze drifting down to the floor as you struggled to find your words. God, being sincere shouldn’t be so damn hard, but you were never one to admit your faults, never the type to open up easily. Despite your usual confidence and brashness, you couldn’t even seem to form proper sentences right now.

“I forgive you.” Those three simple words drew a surprised look from you, to which Eddie shrugged as he continued, looking away with a coolness that surely had to be for show, “Your apology could use some work, seeing as you couldn’t even say ‘sorry,’ but you were forgiven the second I opened that door.”

That last statement was shockingly honest and somehow a touch too vulnerable for your liking - it made you nervous, and you couldn’t say why. Was Eddie just being hyperbolic, saying that to make you feel better? Or was it the truth, could he have possibly been willing to forgive you just like that simply because you showed up on his doorstep? Both of those ideas made you apprehensive in vastly different ways.

With a quick shake of your head, you tried to pull yourself together, straightening your shoulders and wiping the vulnerable look from your face. You met Eddie’s kind eyes with as much coolness as you could muster, hoping it wasn’t too obvious that you were relieved with how this conversation had gone. There was a glint of amusement in Eddie’s face as he watched you, as if he knew exactly what was going through your head, as if he knew your calm demeanor was all for show.

Eddie looked down, rubbing the back of his neck as he spoke, “So long as you don’t drag me to that stupid homecoming, we’ll be alright.”

You couldn’t help but scoff and roll your eyes at the suggestion, thankful that Eddie made the effort to break the tension in the room - you were done trying to be vulnerable, and it seemed that he could sense that, too.

“As if I’d let myself be the Carrie White of their shitty joke.” You gave Eddie a playful glance, catching the way his brow furrowed.

“Carrie, huh?”

You also gave him a look, “Yeah, you know - telekinetic chick who killed everyone at prom?”

The smile that graced Eddie’s lips was nearly infectious as he laughed with a shake of his head, “Oh, I know Carrie, I’m just surprised that you do - you don’t seem the horror type.”

You cross your arms teasingly - it was so easy to fall back into this pattern with Eddie, easy to bounce off each other. Admittedly, you missed it.

“There’s still a lot you don’t know about me.” You counter with a small smirk, to which Eddie gave you a challenging look.

“Well, it would help if you opened up a little more, princess.” The nickname rolled off Eddie’s tongue with ease, and it was a relief to hear it - that had to mean you really were forgiven, that he hadn't just said so to make you feel better. Even still, you narrowed your eyes, prompting Eddie to continue in his defense, “I know nothing about your hobbies, but you know practically all of mine.”

You looked him up and down once, “You know that I skate.”

Eddie rolled his eyes teasingly, although he sounded deathly serious as he said, “There’s clearly more to you than that.”

The sincerity in Eddie’s tone juxtaposed his playful look, giving you pause, making you nervous. You answered simply and with a dismissive shrug, hoping it didn't lead into some deeper conversation, “Guess that makes you the first person to notice.”

You turned away from Eddie to continue looking around, taking in the room as you debated whether or not you’d elaborate on your interests. Considering that Eddie made a good point about not knowing you well, you caved - after all, did you want him as a friend or not?

“I love horror movies.” You take a few steps towards a shelf filled with videos and cassettes, your eyes slowly looking over the titles, “Books, too, but the movies are way scarier, so they’re more fun.”

A few familiar horror titles sat on the shelf, causing you to grin and glance back at Eddie, who seemed to be watching you attentively. Realizing he was caught staring, he quickly righted himself and met your gaze, his curious smile growing. You could see in his face that questions were forming, that he probably wanted to ask what you liked about horror or what movie was your favorite. Expectantly, you turned to face him with an eager raise of your brow.

Eddie looked between your eyes for a moment as if he wasn’t sure what to say first, finally nudging his chin towards the VHS collection on the shelf, “You pick a movie, I’ll order us a pizza?”

You couldn’t help but be surprised at the suggestion - for two days you didn’t speak a word to each other, but again you were reminded of just how effortless it was to go back to the way things were. You smiled in appreciation for Eddie’s ability to make anything easy like this.

As much as you loved the idea, you hesitated, “It’s getting kinda late…”

Eddie waved it off before you could say anything else, “So? My uncle won’t be back for hours, and I don’t think either of us has anything better going on.”

So, you nodded, eagerly turning your attention back to the small collection of movies on the shelf - you wondered which ones were Eddie’s and which were his uncle��s. Quickly, you settled on a movie that you were excited to see there, grabbing it from the shelf and spinning to face Eddie as he dialed the nearest pizza place. You felt like an excited child as you held up Videodrome for him to see. Again, Eddie appeared surprised, but didn’t get the chance to comment as he was greeted by someone on the other end of the call. He probably wouldn’t have guessed Cronenberg to be your taste in horror.

With the pizza ordered and the movie loaded into the VCR, you and Eddie settled on opposite ends of the couch. Within a minute of the movie starting, however, you couldn’t help yourself as you began to eagerly go on and on about how technically impressive the effects in this movie were. You weren’t sure how long you went on for, but after a while you realized you were going on a tangent, cutting yourself off as you looked at Eddie for the inevitable judgment to come. You’d grown used to your friends rolling their eyes or your mom telling you to stop talking about disgusting horror movies, but Eddie looked so… attentive? So interested to listen to what you were saying?

You looked back at the screen almost sheepishly, but you could still feel the burn of Eddie’s eyes watching you.

“You’re kind of a nerd.” He said with far too much glee, causing you to whip your mean gaze back to him; Eddie was smiling from ear-to-ear, clearly pleased with himself and his discovery of your hidden interest.

“I am not.” You scoff, trying not to grin back at him. Eddie leaned across the couch as if to emphasize his taunting, his eyes challenging as he stared at you.

“You just spent five minutes talking about how much you love to watch a fake head blow up - seems kinda nerdy.”

It felt as if no rift had ever formed between you two, as if you hadn’t just been awkwardly trying to apologize to him some fifteen minutes ago. Eddie just made it ridiculously easy to relax, to forget all the bullshit from the past few days.

You gave Eddie’s shoulder a playful shove, so he sat back up in his seat, that wicked grin still on his face, “What, don’t want to be lumped in with the rest of us?”

Despite trying to give Eddie a threatening look, you knew your eyes were betraying you - all of the menace in your expression was destroyed by the way your eyes blatantly shone with amusement. You had to look away again, otherwise you feared you might laugh.

“Liking horror doesn’t make me a nerd.” You insisted.

“No, but considering you made a whole speech about how impactful Cronenberg’s use of gore is, I wouldn’t call you a casual fan.” Eddie teased, and even without looking you knew just how big his grin was.

So, you kept your eyes trained on the screen, hoping to become absorbed in the movie as you tried to ignore the way Eddie was studying you. And it worked for at least a few minutes - you began to smile at the familiar film, attentively following the story development, all the while slowly forgetting about the eyes practically burning a hole in your skull.

But in his typical fashion, Eddie couldn’t stay quiet for too long.

“Jason Voorhees or Michael Myers?”

Without missing a beat, you looked back at Eddie, unable to hold your tongue on the debate. Your tone was perhaps a little snobby as you answered, “Michael, obviously.”

Again, Eddie grinned largely with a challenge in his eye, “‘Obviously?’”

Of course, you knew what he was doing - he was clearly trying to poke at you, but damn it, it was working. You couldn’t resist the opportunity to talk about movie slashers to a captive audience, even if said audience was likely going to keep egging you on.

You rolled your eyes, folding your legs up on the couch as you turned your body towards Eddie, “Jason isn’t scary.”

“Not scary? He and Michael are basically the same guy.” You pulled a face at the comment, noticing that Eddie seemed pleased with himself for getting you going on the subject.

“And I guess you think they’re also just like Bubba?” Eddie grinned wickedly, so you quickly reached over to smack his shoulder, “Don’t you dare say it.”

“Say what?”

You narrowed your eyes, torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to debate your point. You took a deep breath before looking back towards the movie, “Michael is better, end of conversation.”

“I’m more of a Freddy guy myself.” Eddie taunts, clearly not done tormenting you. You shot him a look from the corner of your eye, but didn’t dare give him the satisfaction of a response, trying to keep your attention on the movie instead. A minute later, Eddie chimed up again, “The Exorcist or the Omen?”

To that, you didn’t have as quick an answer, mulling it over for a moment before replying - when you answered with the Exorcist, Eddie couldn’t help but say that response was predictable.

So, it led you down the rabbit hole, Videodrome being totally forgotten in favor of debating your horror opinions. For every answer to Eddie’s questions, he had a counterargument - it didn’t matter whether or not you two agreed on something, he clearly just wanted to get you riled up. Maybe he enjoyed seeing you get excited about something, maybe he enjoyed the way you’d argue your case on characters you loved and hated.

When the pizza arrived, you raced Eddie to the door, paying for the food despite his protests, the pair of you clearly annoying the delivery driver who didn’t give a shit where the money came from so long as he got it. All through your meal, you two continued talking over the movie, which eventually reached its end and prompted Eddie to start playing another that you also wouldn’t pay any attention to.

As the night wore on, your debates eventually died down; your seat on the couch became increasingly more comfortable, and the shitty horror movie you had on was beginning to lull you to sleep. Considering how long your day - no, your whole week - had been, you were surprised it took this long for your exhaustion to set in. So, you slowly settled into the couch, progressively slumping into the cushions.

Seeing the tired look on your face, Eddie nudged you and insisted you lie down, and you were tired enough not to argue, resting on your side so you can continue watching the movie. You keep your legs curled up to avoid getting in Eddie’s space, but nonetheless your knees rest comfortable against his thigh. At some point between half awake and half asleep, you thought that maybe you felt his hand resting comfortably on your leg, but you were too tired to say for sure.

As the night wore on, you must have inevitably fallen asleep, because next thing you knew, you were being pulled out of a dream, a hand gently shaking your shoulder and Eddie’s far off voice encouraging you to wake up. You figured at first that the voice was just a part of your dream, but as the tone grew more clear and insistent, you were brought back to reality. Groggily, you blinked your eyes open with a confused glare - how long had you been out for? And what time was it?

Catching your eyes with his, the corner of Eddie’s mouth pulled back in a small grin, “Jesus, you sleep like the dead.”

A tired moan rumbled in your throat as your eyes narrowed. You tried to roll onto your other side as if you could somehow avoid Eddie that way, your words nonthreatening and heavy with sleep, “Fuck off…”

As Eddie sighed with annoyance, an unfamiliar huff of a laugh met your ears, but you weren’t nearly awake enough to even wonder who it belonged to. Eddie pulled at your shoulder so you couldn’t turn away from him, to which you whined again.

“No, you’re not sleeping on the couch, it’ll ruin your back.” Eddie insisted, teasingly pulling at your arm - if you weren’t still half asleep, it wouldn’t have annoyed you nearly as much as it did, “Come on, get up.”

You opened your harsh eyes again, knowing Eddie wouldn’t allow himself to be ignored. As your eyes adjusted, his face slowly came into focus, his hair haloed by the light of the TV; kneeling beside you, he was clearly trying to hide the amusement he found in your sleepy attitude.

The two of you stared at one another for a long minute as the fog slowly lifted from your brain, making you more and more aware of your surroundings. Your gaze drifted away from Eddie, noticing movement in the corner of your eye; turning in the direction of it, you made eye contact with a man who had to have been Eddie’s uncle. He quickly turned away, pretending to be preoccupied with something in the kitchen, as if that would give you and Eddie a measly sense of privacy.

With a deep yawn, you looked at Eddie again, begrudgingly accepting that you had to get up. You slowly rose into a seated position, your feet brushing Eddie’s leg as you moved to set them on the ground; he rose and took a step back to give you a little more space. Stretching your arms above your head and popping your neck, you looked between the two men, noticing that Eddie seemed to be somewhat sheepish, which made you curious. Was he embarrassed that this was how you and his uncle were meeting? Was it because he felt like you two were caught doing something wrong? Or was it something else entirely that influenced that expression on his face?

You sighed heavily as you rose to your feet, your face scrunching up a little as you looked around the room; your voice was still heavy with sleep as you asked, “What time is it? I have to go home.”

Eddie shook his head at the same moment that his uncle silently disappeared to the bathroom, the sound of the shower running drifting out from under the door; maybe he was trying to give you two a bit more privacy.

“You don’t have to go.” Eddie says in a surprisingly gentle tone, to which you furrow your brow, “It’s late and you're exhausted - just stay here tonight.”

You weakly tried to protest, although you were so tired that it was a relief to hear that Eddie wasn’t kicking you out in the wee hours of the morning, “I really shouldn’t.”

“You really should.” Eddie insisted, clearly not open to argument. Luckily for him, you accepted the response instantly, your head still too foggy to find a good enough reason to leave. So, you nod smally while trying to stifle another yawn.

Eddie points his hand in the direction of the bedroom, and you immediately accept the invitation, confidently heading that way as if you owned the damn place. You didn’t catch the tug of a smile that graced Eddie’s lips as he followed just a step behind you.

You entered the dark bedroom and all but collapsed onto the bed, hearing a slight laugh leave Eddie’s lips; at least he found it funny instead of rude, not that you were terribly concerned with that right now. No, the only thing on your mind at the moment was curling into the mattress and sleeping undisturbed for the rest of the night. You comfortably wrapped your arms around one of Eddie’s pillows, inhaling his lingering scent without considering what you were doing.

“You gonna sleep in that?” Eddie teased, reminding you that you were still in the workout clothes that you wore for skating. Like a stubborn child unwilling to do a task, you grunted, sitting back up and trying to find Eddie in the dark. You caught his silhouette digging through what you assumed to be a pile of clothes, eventually pulling something out and tossing it in your direction. The t-shirt weakly hit you in the chest before falling into your lap, so you started to pull off your own soiled shirt, letting it fall forgotten somewhere on the floor.

Light still filtered into the room through the gap in the door, so you caught the way Eddie spun around to give you privacy just as you started to tug at your bra; you couldn’t help but smile, finding it funny as he pushed the door closed. After all, it was dark enough that he probably couldn’t see anything; and even if he could, it didn’t matter. Right?

Eddie kept himself preoccupied, returning his attention to the stack of clothes as you pulled his scratchy t-shirt over your head; thanks to the darkness of the room, you didn’t catch the way he glanced back at you curiously. Once you were comfortable, you lied back down and began to burrow in the blankets, pulling them over your head as you listened to Eddie strip out of his own clothes.

A few moments later, one of the blankets was being yanked from the bed; you greedily tried to grab it before it was gone, but to no avail, which prompted you to poke your head out from the cocoon you’d built. You couldn’t quite find Eddie in the dark, but you nonetheless furrowed your brow in the direction you figured he was in.

“What are you doing?” You questioned groggily as your eyes began to adjust; you could now make out Eddie’s shadow as he appeared to turn to you.

“Sleeping on the floor.” He answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, nudging things aside with his foot before dropping the blanket to the ground. As he leaned over the bed to grab a pillow, you rolled your eyes and reached out to nudge him, making contact with bare skin before shuffling over to make room on the small bed.

“Like hell you are.” You attempted to snuggle into your new position, but seeing Eddie awkwardly lingering prompted you to reach over and give his arm a quick tug, “Get the fuck in the bed, Munson.”

Eddie hesitated a moment longer, and although he couldn’t see it, you stared at him in amused scrutiny. With a huff, you threw aside the blankets and hit the mattress once for emphasis, “Don’t tell me you’re nervous to share a bed with a girl.”

You readjusted to face away from Eddie, wrapping your arms around your pillow again and burying your face in it, getting cozy almost instantly. Behind you, he sighed before his weight shifted the mattress; just from the feel of his movements, you knew Eddie was awkwardly trying to stay as close to the edge of the bed as possible. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes with a smile at how stiff he was - at this rate, he wasn’t going to get a wink of sleep.

“Stop worrying about it, Eddie.” You muttered gently, curling up in the blankets as if you were a cat lying in the sun. A big yawn escaped you as you felt Eddie shift a little, and you knew you’d be out like a light any minute now, “Try to get some sleep, okay?”Eddie hummed in acknowledgement, and despite his best efforts to keep his distance, you could still feel his body heat radiating near you. Smiling comfortably to yourself, you quickly began to doze off, barely catching Eddie’s whispered “Night, princess…” before you fell back into a deep sleep.

addt. Author's Note | I couldn't keep these two apart for even an entire chapter, so I hope their lil reconciliation was worth the wait!

Taglist | @3rd-conchord @a-queen-blr @avalon-wolf @costellation-hunter @daisy-munson

@daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie @delilaaahhh @em0220

@frogtape @fromasgardandback @fckyeahlames @graciehams @kthomps914

@lotrefcp @love-anonymous-writer @marrowfrog00 @maskofmirrors @mewchiili

@miaajaade @mmmunson @munsonssweets @no-bueno-writer @rach5ive

@rcailleachcola @sav12321 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @steeldaisies @stormgrl19

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #em #dos and donts

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reidsbookclub · 4 months ago

Text

Vows of Rivalry

Authors Note: MY FIRST AARON FIC AHH!! Idk what is scarier the fact that this is FINALLY going out to the world or the fact that my first Aaron fic does not follow cannon events. Either way I would really appreciate any feedback you guys can give me. gif credit to original creator. I had it saved on my laptop so I really do not remember

special thanks to @boldlyvoid for beta reading the first draft of this fic. pairing: Aaron Hotchner x female reader

Without further ado here is Vows of Rivalry.

Mock trial season. Every law student’s worst nightmare. Except for one.

Most students dreaded the possibility of being pitted against Aaron Hotchner—reigning champion since his first year. Hotch was renowned for his ruthless precision, impeccable argumentation, and the intimidating scowl that seemed permanently etched onto his face. But for Y/N Y/L/N, the prospect of facing Aaron was anything but dreadful. In fact, she relished it.

She could see it now: his jaw clenched, his lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowing whenever she’d poke holes in his carefully laid arguments. For her, it wasn’t just about winning. It was about watching Aaron Hotchner, the unflappable law prodigy, completely lose his composure.

That day was no different. The mock trial courtroom buzzed with the tension of impending arguments, the air crackling with unspoken competition. Y/N adjusted her blazer, her eyes scanning the room for her favorite opponent. There he was, already seated with his ever-present briefcase of legal weapons, jaw set and brows furrowed as he reviewed his notes. She couldn’t help the smirk tugging at her lips as she walked to her seat across from him.

The mock trial had barely begun, but the room felt like a pressure cooker. Y/N had just finished outlining her opening argument when Aaron stood to cross-examine her witness. As always, he delivered each question with surgical precision, his voice sharp, his gaze colder than a winter morning.

But she wasn’t backing down.

“Your Honor,” she interrupted smoothly, “he simply doesn’t have the evidence necessary for—”

“Evidence?” Aaron interrupted, his calm demeanor finally cracking. He looked like he was about to explode, his face flushed with frustration. “Evi—Jesus, woman, you make me so annoyed sometimes. I just want to very publicly divorce you!”

The courtroom fell silent, and Y/N stared at him, stunned by his outburst. Then, instead of being thrown off, she smiled. “You’d have to marry me first, Hotchner.”

Aaron stormed off, leaving the room in a buzz of shock. The judge cleared his throat awkwardly and called for a recess, but all Y/N could think about was how much she had enjoyed watching him unravel.

Neither of them realizing that the judge for this mock trial, their peer Marcus, had a murderous look trained to where Aaron had left.

Flash forward — Present day

The BAU office was quieter than usual, the team scattered as they worked on different aspects of their current case. Aaron Hotchner sat at his desk, tapping his pen absently against a case file, the rhythm of his movements betraying his usual calm. His mind wasn’t on the case—not entirely. Instead, it kept wandering back to Y/N. Their history, their rivalry in law school, the way she always managed to get under his skin.

His mind began to drift to that impulsive night in Vegas that had been the culmination of all that tension

The neon lights of Las Vegas blared like a siren song, luring Y/N and Aaron into a world of wildness and excess. After an exhausting week of mock trials, they and their law school classmates had decided to blow off some steam and take a trip to Vegas of all places.

“Okay, Hotchner, let’s see if you can handle another round!” Y/N challenged, her voice slightly slurred as she leaned against the bar, her hair a tousled mess.

Aaron rolled his eyes, his own drink barely clutched in his hand. “I think you’ve already had enough, Y/N. You know, you might actually lose your pants at the blackjack table this time.”

“Ha! Please, I’m a betting goddess! You’re just jealous because I outsmarted you in court last week!” she shot back, leaning in closer, her breath a mixture of fruity cocktails and determination.

“Outsmarted me? You mean you got lucky!” Aaron replied, smirking.

“You know what? Let’s get married!” she taunted, downing the last of her drink.

“What?” Aaron burst out laughing, nearly spilling his drink. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope!” Y/N declared, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Let’s do it. Vegas style! You and me! A wedding! Right now!”

He glanced at her, both amused and wary. “You realize that you’re completely drunk out of your mind, right? You know what they say about Vegas weddings. And I don’t want to be part of a ‘you’re-who-I-got-drunk-with’ story.”

She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Come on, Hotch! It’ll be epic! Plus, we’ll have a great story to tell during our class reunion 10 years from now about how we got wasted and tied the knot on a whim!”

“Yeah, and how you lost all your money at blackjack the same night!” he shot back, unable to hold back his laughter.

“Shut up!” she laughed, but then her expression shifted to one of playful defiance. “I dare you to come with me! We’ll show everyone that even stoic Aaron Hotcher can do something crazy with the right company! Or are you too scared”

Aaron raised an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face. “You think I’m scared? You really want to drag me into this madness?”

“Absolutely!” she insisted, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the chapel like a determined toddler. “C’mon! What’s the worst that could happen? We’ll wake up tomorrow, laugh about it!”

“Or we might actually end up married,” he replied, a mixture of thrill and dread filling him as they reached the chapel’s entrance. “What’s your plan if we do?”

“Um… we’ll just call it a really fun mistake!” she quipped, giggling as they stumbled into the small, tacky chapel. Elvis’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love” played in the background, setting the perfect absurd tone.

Inside, they approached the altar, barely able to contain their laughter. The Elvis impersonator greeted them, his eyes twinkling as he took in their disheveled appearance.

“Welcome to the chapel, lovebirds!” he boomed, clearly accustomed to drunken couples making rash decisions.

“Lovebirds?” Aaron muttered under his breath, shooting Y/N a glance.

“Shhh! Just go with it,” she hissed, nudging him with her elbow. “It’ll be fun!”

The officiant cleared his throat. “Do you, Y/N, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“Sure, why not?” Y/N said with a grin, her tone decidedly nonchalant. “I mean, he does make a decent man most of the time.”

“Y/N!” Aaron exclaimed, mortified and amused at her flippancy.

“And do you, Aaron, take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the officiant continued, a bemused smile on his face.

Aaron shrugged dramatically, looking at Y/N with exaggerated seriousness. “I guess so. As long as she promises not to annoy me with her terrible jokes and awful puns.”

“Hey!” Y/N shot back, mock-hurt. “I’ll have you know my jokes are legendary!”

“Legendary at making people cringe,” he replied, chuckling as the officiant tried to stifle a laugh.

After a few more playful jabs and exaggerated vows—filled with drunken laughter and outrageous promises—they exchanged rings made of plastic and signed their names on the chapel’s official log, feeling giddy and foolish.

As they stumbled back out into the glittering chaos of the Vegas Strip, their marriage license in hand, they couldn't help but laugh that they even printed out one.

“Is this even legal?” she asked not expecting a reply, glancing at their license as if it might disappear into thin air. “You would think that for a pair of law students we would know the answer”

Aaron only shrugged, too drunk to think, tossing an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s hit the casino again. After all, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?”

As they walked, their banter flowed freely, filled with giggles and playful nudges. They knew they would laugh about this ridiculous night for years to come, even if they had to figure out how to disentangle themselves from the drunken mess they had just created.

The next morning had been awkward, to say the least. They had agreed to get the marriage annulled immediately, laughing about how ridiculous it all was. Except, somehow, neither had followed through on the paperwork. It had slipped through the cracks of their busy lives.

Now, his mind kept wandering back to Y/N wondering where she was now. He couldn’t help but notice how the victims all had a striking resemblance to her.

The team had been called in to investigate a series of kidnappings, and the more they dug, the clearer it became for him how they all looked like Y/N. Where was she now? He couldn’t help but think. Was she safe?

He leaned forward, pinching the bridge of his nose, the weight of it all pressing down on him. He had to find her, his protective instincts kicking in.

“Did you find something, Garcia?” Hotch asked, breaking the silence of his office when Penelope Garcia appeared at the door, her fingers flying across her tablet.

She hesitated momentarily, her usual cheerful energy replaced with a seriousness that made Hotch’s pulse quicken.

“I… I think so, sir,” she said, her eyes widening as she glanced at her screen. “Does the name Y/N Y/L/N ring any bells?”

Hotch’s heart stopped for a moment. His eyes locked with Garcia’s, his mind racing. “Yes,” he replied, his voice strained. “She’s… my wife.”

Garcia’s jaw dropped. “Wait, what?”

Hotch took a breath, the memories rushing back. “We got married… years ago. It was a mistake. We were supposed to get divorced, but… it never happened.”

Garcia blinked rapidly, trying to process what he had just revealed. “So, you’re telling me… you’re still married?”

“Yes.” Hotch’s voice was tight with emotion.

He stood abruptly, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. “What did you find?”

Garcia quickly shifted gears, “well, her co-workers reported Y/N missing yesterday after not showing up to work,” pulling up a map of the latest victim location. “Y/N’s phone pinged from an industrial area near the docks about an hour ago. The unsub is still playing games, but I believe she is the latest victim, sir. It appears he stalked her online for a couple of weeks’”

Hotch’s jaw tightened as he listened, his professional side taking over. “Send me the coordinates. I want the team assembled now.”

~~~~~

The BAU team had nearly arrived to the warehouse, moving swiftly and silently. Hotch led the charge, his mind a blur of tactical planning and personal fear. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. Not after all these years. Not when he was just realizing how much she still meant to him.

Inside, the air was thick with dust and decay. The unsub had clearly been holding Y/N here, but as they searched the space, there was no sign of her or the unsub.

Hotch’s phone buzzed. A new message.

It was from Y/N’s phone, but the words were clearly from the unsub:

“Do you remember? Do you remember how much you tried to hate her? Tried to hide much did you love her? You won’t find her in time, Hotchner.”

So this was someone from their past, but who? While trying to think of anyone that would’ve been trying to get close to her and hating him he couldn’t help but recall one fateful winter day that cemented them as academic rivals while also cementing his love for her.

The cold bite of winter air seeped into the library, where a few stubborn law students huddled around textbooks and laptops. Outside, snowflakes drifted lazily, painting the world in white, but inside, a different kind of storm was brewing.

Aaron Hotchner glanced up from his notes, his sharp gaze falling on Y/N, who sat across from him in their study group. The usual fire was in her eyes, and the faintest trace of a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she readied herself for another round of their never-ending banter.

“You’re completely wrong, Hotchner,” she said, her voice sharp and teasing. “Your interpretation of the case law is so off-base, I’m surprised you’re even here right now.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Is that so? Enlighten me, then. If you can, that is.”

Y/N’s face flushed, her hazel eyes narrowing in mock-annoyance. The faint crinkle of her nose appeared—the one that always seemed to surface when she was riled up. It was something he had started to look forward to, something that drove him to keep pushing her buttons just to see that reaction.

“Don’t tempt me,” she said with a huff, leaning forward to point at his notes. “Right here, you missed the entire point of the ruling. You can’t just cherry-pick the facts that support your argument. You’re better than that… or at least, I thought you were.”

Her words were laced with sarcasm, but Aaron found himself barely hearing them. Instead, his mind focused on the way her hair fell loosely over her shoulders, how her cheeks were tinged pink from the warmth of the heated room, and how that fire in her eyes sparked every time they clashed.

She was beautiful in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to fully acknowledge until now. He’d always admired her intellect, her tenacity, the way she stood her ground no matter how hard he pushed. But today—today something shifted. It wasn’t just respect or admiration anymore. It was something deeper, something that hit him square in the chest as if knocking the air out of him.

God, he loved seeing her like this—passionate, focused, and utterly unrelenting. His heart raced as he watched her argue her point, lips moving with a confidence that captivated him. He’d always riled her up for the sake of competition, but now he realized it was more than that. He loved it. Loved the way her nose crinkled, the way her skin flushed pink when she got under his skin and knew it.

She was like a force of nature, and Aaron—against all logic—was caught in her storm.

“Are you even listening to me?” Y/N’s voice cut through his thoughts, her eyes narrowing further as she leaned back, arms crossed.

Aaron blinked, shaking off the haze of his realization, and quickly returned to their debate. “Of course I am. I’m just trying to figure out if you actually believe that nonsense you’re spewing.”

Her mouth fell open, and that familiar spark lit in her eyes again. “You’re impossible!” she snapped, throwing her pen down dramatically.

Aaron bit back a grin. “And you’re predictable.”

That earned him a glare, but he could see the amusement behind it. She thrived on this, just like he did. The banter, the push and pull—it was their language, and he’d never felt more alive than when they were like this. But now it came with a deeper ache, a longing he hadn’t anticipated.

Later that day, after they’d packed up and left the library, Aaron lingered near the hallway, stuffing his textbooks into his bag. Y/N’s voice drifted from around the corner, chatting with her friends.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come out with us tonight?” one of the girls asked. “Marcus has been wanting to ask you out and you always shoot him down.”

Y/N laughed softly. “No, I’m good. I promised myself I’d focus on law school. No distractions. I’m staying single and just keeping my head down until graduation.”

Aaron froze, his breath catching in his throat. The words stung more than they should have. He had just admitted to himself that he might be falling for her, and now—now she was putting up a wall, and he wasn’t even on the other side of it.

Single. Focused on her studies. No distractions.

It was clear where she stood, and Aaron felt a knot of frustration tighten in his chest. He could never compete with her ambitions, nor would he try. He respected that about her. But still, it hit him hard, this quiet admission of hers that he had no place in her plans.

He stood there, hidden just out of view, feeling the weight of her words settle over him. He had never been one to chase something he couldn’t have, and Y/N had just made it clear she was determined to stay unattached.

But if he couldn’t have her the way he wanted—if she would never see him the way he saw her—then he’d find another way to stay close to her.

That night, as snow continued to fall softly outside the window, Aaron made a silent vow to himself. If being her rival was the only way to be near her, then so be it. He would challenge her, argue with her, push her to her limits—because that’s when she was at her best, and it was the only way he could keep her in his life.

If being her academic rival was all he could be, then he would make sure to be the best damn rival she ever had.

The blood drained from his face as he reread the words. This was personal. The unsub had been watching them—watching their past, their history. And now, Hotch knew he was the key to finding Y/N. Could it have been Marucs? Marcus was the other relentless suitor that y/n had. Could it be him?

He called Garcia, “we are almost at the location Y/Ns phone pinged last. Look into Marcus for me, he went to school with us” he ordered

“Looks like Marcus has had many girlfriends that resemble Y/N physical appearance since graduating, up until last year in which his girlfriend broke up with him to marry someone else. The wedding date coincides with the first killing sir”

“Thanks Garcia” he said as they arrived at the location.

The SWAT team had cleared the perimeter, and Aaron Hotchner stood just outside the door of the dilapidated warehouse. The once-industrial building had long since been abandoned, its cracked windows and rusting metal exterior fitting the profile of a man like Marcus Chambers—someone who had faded into the shadows, but had never truly disappeared.

Aaron’s heartbeat thudded heavily in his ears, the only sound louder than the quiet murmur of the team communicating over comms. They’d been tracking Marcus for days, and this was their best lead yet. But there was one glaring problem—it seemed Y/N wasn’t here.

And time was running out.

The door to the warehouse creaked open, and Aaron nodded to Morgan and Prentiss, signaling them to enter first. Inside, the air was stale and filled with the faint scent of metal and dust. There were scattered pieces of old machinery and boxes, but it was otherwise empty—save for a table and the man seated at the far end of the room.

Marcus.

His dark eyes were fixed on the team as they approached, his mouth curled into a bitter smirk. He didn’t make any effort to move or run, didn’t flinch as SWAT flooded in behind them, guns raised and voices sharp with commands. He sat there, unbothered, like he’d been expecting them all along.

Aaron’s jaw clenched as he approached, unable to shake the burning anger and desperation clawing at him. Y/N’s life depended on this, and every second felt like an eternity.

“Where is she?” Aaron’s voice was low, controlled, but the fury beneath it was unmistakable.

Marcus’s eyes flickered with amusement as he leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms lazily. “You think it’s that easy, don’t you, Hotchner? You swoop in, play the hero, and save the day.” He sneered. “But not this time.”

Aaron’s fists clenched at his sides. The rage boiling inside him was barely contained, but he couldn’t afford to lose control now. He couldn’t let Marcus see just how much he was getting to him. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“I’m not playing games with you, Marcus,” Aaron growled, stepping closer, his voice like steel. “Tell me where she is, or I swear you won’t like how this ends.”

Morgan stepped forward ready to jump and protect his boss and close friend, hand resting on his gun, ready for any sign of danger. “You’re surrounded, man, you’re not walking out of here, so you might as well make it easier on yourself.”

Marcus chuckled darkly, shaking his head as if amused by the entire situation. “Easier? For me? This was never about making it easy, agent.” His eyes drifted back to Aaron, and there was something unsettling in his gaze—something cold, unhinged. “This was about making you pay.”

Aaron felt the weight of those words, and it took everything in him to keep his expression neutral. He had known Marcus back in law school—had always seen him as a man with an inferiority complex, always jealous of anyone who succeeded around him. But that was nothing compared to the bitterness Aaron saw now.

“This is about Y/N, isn’t it?” Aaron said, voice steady but cutting. “You’ve hated me since the mock trial when I said I would marry her, but Marcus you should know we were just rattling each other”

“Bullshit” Marcus yelled irritated

Marcus’s smirk widened. “You have no idea, do you? No idea what it felt like watching you—golden boy Aaron Hotchner—get everything handed to you. The grades, the reputation, and then… her.”

Could he really know about Vegas, about them actually marrying? Aaron thought. It wasn’t as if they actually lived like husband and wife, they had just forgotten to annul the marriage, granted, as far as he knew neither of them had dated after that day. Could he really be this infuriated by a piece of paper? Aaron decided not to focus on the pang of guilt he felt by thinking of the marriage to the love of his life as just a “piece of paper” he had to figure out where she was before it was too late.

“I watched you two,” Marcus continued, his voice laced with bitterness. “Watched you marry her like it was some joke. Like she was some prize you could just win and forget about.”

Aaron’s stomach twisted. It all went back to Vegas. The night they’d gotten drunk, the night he and Y/N had woken up with rings on their fingers and hazy memories of how they got there. A wedding that should have been forgotten, annulled, but had somehow turned into something much more permanent, a silent promise that they would always be there for each other. A promise he couldn't break, not after all this time.

And Marcus had been there. He’d seen it all. And he was dead set on breaking the fragile bond that was made that night between Aaron and Y/N.

Suddenly, a faint sound caught his attention—a soft, muffled cry coming from the back of the warehouse. Hotch motioned for the team to follow as they approached a locked room. Kicking the door open, his breath caught in his throat.

There she was. Y/N. Bound and gagged but alive.

You were there that night?” Aaron asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Marcus nodded, his eyes flickering with something darker—something dangerous. “I saw it all. You don’t even remember, do you? How you laughed about it. How you said it didn’t matter, how it would all be a funny memory years down the road. But it mattered to me.”

Aaron’s chest tightened. Yes, there was laughter that night. But, he hadn’t brushed it off like it meant nothing. It had scared him the days after how much that marriage had meant to him. But Marcus had twisted that memory, had held onto it all these years, letting it fester into something deadly.

“This isn’t about Vegas, Marcus,” Aaron said coldly. “This is about your obsession. You’re angry because you never stood a chance.”

Marcus’s smirk faltered for a brief second, but the madness in his eyes only intensified. “I didn’t stand a chance because you took her from me before I even had one.”

Aaron’s fists clenched tighter, his patience fraying. “I'm done with this, I’m done with you. Tell me where she is. Now.”

Marcus chuckled, leaning forward in his chair, his voice dripping with malice. “You really think I’d make it that easy for you? No, Hotchner. This is your punishment. You don’t get to save her this time.”

Aaron’s blood ran cold, a chill settling deep into his bones. He stepped closer, towering over Marcus, his voice deadly calm. “You tell me where she is, or I swear–” Aaron couldn’t finish his threat, noticing Marcus’ eyes flickered to the timer he set on a nearby table.

Marcus met Aaron’s eyes, his smile fading into something more sinister. “You’re too late. She will be dead in 20 minutes.”

Aaron’s heart stopped. Too late. No, that couldn’t be possible. Not Y/N. Not when they were so close.

“Where is she?” Morgan demanded, his voice rising.

Marcus didn’t answer. His gaze drifted lazily around the room, savoring the tension, the desperation on Aaron’s face. “You’ll never find her. She’s too far gone.”

Aaron lunged forward, grabbing Marcus by the collar and hauling him to his feet, rage boiling over. “Where is she?!”

Morgan and Prentiss moved to pull Aaron back, but he was already too far gone. Marcus laughed in his face, taunting him with the one thing Aaron couldn’t afford to lose: time.

And then, in a quiet, venomous whisper, Marcus finally spoke.

“You’re looking in the wrong place.”

The words sank in, chilling Aaron to his core. Marcus had known all along that they’d come here, had expected this, planned for it. And while they wasted time finding him—Y/N was somewhere else.

Somewhere Aaron might never reach her in time.

He released Marcus, stepping back, chest heaving with frustration and panic. They had him in custody, but it wasn’t enough. Not without Y/N.

They were running out of time, and Aaron knew he couldn’t afford a single second more

Back at the BAU Penelope Garcia’s fingers flew across the keyboard, eyes glued to the flurry of data populating the screen. She’d been digging into Marcus's background, searching for anything that could lead them to where he was keeping Y/N. “Come on, come on…” she muttered under her breath, frustration building—until suddenly, a detail popped up, too familiar to ignore. “Wait a minute,” she whispered, freezing. She leaned closer, eyes widening as the puzzle pieces clicked. “The old library!”

Spencer Reid, sitting across from her, looked up from the stack of files he was pouring over. “What about it?”

Garcia spun her chair toward him, her face pale with realization. “That abandoned library—the one Hotch and Marcus used to study at with the group. It was scheduled for demolition last year, but the plans were scrapped. No one’s been there in years.”

Reid’s eyes lit up with recognition, and his voice dropped. “It’s isolated. Quiet. The perfect place to hide someone.”

Garcia immediately tapped into her comms, panic lacing her voice as she patched through to Hotch. "Hotch, I think we’ve found her. She’s at the old library. Marcus has her at the place you all used to study.”

There was a beat of silence before Hotch's voice came through, tight with urgency. "We are on our way."

Aaron Hotchner’s heart pounded as he pushed through the crumbling doors of the abandoned library, his flashlight slicing through the dust-choked darkness. Morgan was right behind him, followed closely by Prentiss, JJ, and Rossi, their footsteps eerily silent against the cracked tile floors. The air was heavy with mustiness, and the faint echoes of their past—years spent studying in this very place—seemed to haunt the hallways. But there was no time for memories. They had to find her.

A distant sound, soft but unmistakable—a faint whimper—cut through the silence. Hotch froze, his breath hitching. His pulse quickened as his eyes darted toward a door partially ajar at the far end of the room. He motioned for the team to fan out as he crept forward, fear and determination twisting in his gut.

He pushed the door open, revealing Y/N—bound, bruised, but alive—lying in the corner of the room. Relief surged through him like a wave, but there was no time to celebrate, she was breathing but not conscious. Morgan moved quickly to her side, cutting her restraints while JJ and Prentiss scanned the area, and Rossi stood guard. Hotch knelt beside her, his voice low but filled with an emotion he rarely let surface. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Her eyes, though tired and scared, widened when she saw him. Relief washed over her face “Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking for the first time in years.

She coughed softly as she tried to smile. “You… you found me.”

“Always,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms. “I’ll always find my wife.”

tagging some of my friends that I know would not mind reading an Aaron fic

@samuel-de-champagne-problems @boldlyvoid @reidsaurora @milla984 @thedancingcostumeyoungadult @reid-ingandweeping @ssahotchnerr

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #Aaron hotchner x fem! reader

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 2 months ago

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🎄 Under The Mistletoe 🎄

Someone in Hellfire plays matchmaker between you and Eddie ❤️ Featuring mischievous Hellfire members, pesky mistletoe and lots of fluff 🎄

Going to open my requests for a little while so if you have any holiday requests then let me know. 💌

🎄❄️

There's a very good reason. Why the holiday season is a wonderful time. For a boy and girl to fall in love.

Cause Santa and Cupid, planned exactly what you did, When you kissed me by the mistletoe above.

We stood there kissin' by the mistletoe. Tingle, tingle. Muah, muah, muah, and away we go, jingle, jingle.

Kissin' by the mistletoe, love came to stay and now it's Christmas every day.

Aretha Franklin - Kissing by the mistletoe 🎄

❄️🎄

Christmas had arrived in Hawkins. The snow was falling casting in the town in an image of a perfect winter wonderland. All Eddie had heard for the last couple of days was festive tunes and jingles, he did like Christmas but this was a bit much.

He couldn't exactly say that he had the best Christmas growing up, when his mom was around it felt special to him, she adored Christmas and Eddie loved that it made her happy.

Then he was left with just his old man and those were the worst times, Uncle Wayne was his bubble of safety and normality then and now. Thanks to uncle Wayne his love of Christmas has returned slowly.

Did that mean he wanted to be driven crazy by hiliday tunes? No. Then there was his enemy of the season. Mistletoe.

All week he had seen giggly, kissing and loved up couples, they were driving him mad. It made him grumpy and twitchy and he avoided the cursed plant like the plague.

At least when he was in the drama club and safely ensconced in all things Hellfire Club related he could relax. He had spent some time earlier setting up for the campaign and it was a good one, a mini adventure which was Christmas themed of course and very exciting.

For a few hours he could be in total DM mode and nothing mistletoe related could happen...

🎄⛄

At five o'clock on the dot Dustin arrived with Lucas and Mike, then everyone else hurried in. Eddie ignores the way his heart skips a beat when he sees you.

"Gentlemen and ladies welcome to this special edition of Hellfire, where we can enjoy the delights of our new festive themed quest and avoid the evil plants of doom... I swear If I see one more hint of mistletoe I'll..."

"Eddie" you say softly and that captures his attention as you point up to the ceiling, he stops mid-rant and his eyes bug out as he sees the mistletoe hung above him. No. Jesus H Christ, no.

The mistletoe was directly above you and Eddie.

His eyes narrow and he looks around the room immediately suspicious, Jeff and Gareth are sniggering to themselves but stop at the look on his face.

"Who did this?" he hisses to the rest of the group and looks at each of them in turn. No one is owning up to putting the mistletoe there and that frustrates him even more because that dreaded thing wasn't there at any other point of the day.

It wasn't there when he was setting up earlier, no pesky mistletoe was in sight and yet now it was just casually hanging above his head, directly above his chair. "That wasn't here earlier, so one of you little shits did this" he snaps.

He could feel himself sweating as you peered up at him, fuck. It's not like he didn't want to kiss you, he really wanted to but he highly doubted that you wanted to kiss him. Why would you?

"We don't have to do this" he says to you, he would never want you to feel pressured into kissing him. He was going to kill (the character) of whoever did this in the most violent way possible.

"Eddie" the way you say his name makes his knees turn to jelly, his usual confidence and don't give a fuck attitude is long gone and now he's terrified.

You see Eddie was totally smitten with you but didn't realise you were equally smitten with him. Which is what brings us to mischievous elves (Hellfire members) plotting this escapade.

Then your lips meet his and he swears his brain short circuits just for a second, he melts into the kiss and then he's kissing you back and you let out a soft moan that goes straight to uh...places and he wants nothing more than to just keep kissing you.

"Ugh that's enough dude, gross" Mike groans and Eddie reluctantly pulls away from you, feels pleased with himself that your lips are all kiss bitten and your eyes mirroring his in complete lust and adoration.

"About time" Gareth sags in relief, now the two of you could stop tiptoeing around your feelings for one another. Eddie sends him a death glare but completely softens when you take his hand and lean across to whisper in his ear.

"We're totally doing more of that later" your gaze is full of need and a tiny bit of mischief and it may be the first time that Eddie has ever wanted to speed run through a campaign. He couldn't wait for later but for now he had to get into DM mode.

If only you would stop looking at him like that, all impish and beautiful then he might be able to concentrate.

While he's making moon eyes at you for a few seconds Dustin, Erica, Lucas and Mike huddle together and discreetly high five.

"Mission accomplished" Dustin beams until Erica frowns and lets out an exasperated huff. "Yeah sure, like you bunch of nerds could have done this without me" Lucas is about to argue but Erica stops him.

"Nope, don't say a word dumbass. I hung the mistletoe because I'm not afraid of Munson like you three are, so this is down to me" She takes a mini bow and leaves the three boys gawking at her as Eddie finally starts the session.

🎄❄️⛄

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #christmas #christmas fic

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azrielwingspan · 1 year ago

Text

'SOMEONE' (AZRIEL X READER)- PART 2

Summary: You are convinced that Azriel was the one to send the note. Anxious about facing him, you lose yourself in your head but strangely, things are turning out...weird.

Warnings: Mild swearing

A/N: Thankyou so much for the response on the first part you guys! It was supposed to be a one shot but due to popular demand, I wrote down a second. Not gonna lie, I'm a bit nervous about this because peer pressure haha. Really hope this meets expectations. Did my best to make it fun and playful.

Read Part-1 here.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'It's hard not to pry when you're involved.' The words kept flitting through your mind , jumbling your thoughts and stirring up a butterfly party in your stomach.

You knew it was from Azriel. Who else could it be ? Not believing it at first, you tried to think of all other possibilities and came up with zero. No else could possibly know about it.

Except him.

After stewing upon the unexpected turn of events for a good couple of hours, you did something anyone else in your position would've done.

You tried to hide.

From a spymaster.

You were really setting standards in the department of intelligence.

It had all started when you were having lunch with Cass and Mor at the House of Wind. "How was your new book?" Mor asked stuffing herself with the mashed potato in front of her. "It was alright. It just felt a little flat." you stabbed at the piece of chicken on your plate.

"Why the gloomy face? Everything okay?" Cass looked at your face intently. You sat up a little straighter, forcing a small smile onto your face. "I'm great."

"Are you on something?" Your head shot towards Mor, a flabbergasted look on your face.

"What made you say that?"

"You've been acting weird since yesterday and just this morning you stared off into space with a stupid smile on your face. Now, you're gloomy. I've seen this before--"

"Oh for Mother's sake, I'm not on anything Mor." A choked laugh burst out of you at the incredulity of it.

"Is it because of the stable boy thing yesterday? Shit Y/N, we didn't know you still --"

You narrowed your eyes at Cass , daring him to finish that statement. He immediately backed off, putting up his hands in the air.

"Just a concerned friend." He said with a teasing smile.

"You guys are the worst." Soft laughter was shared between the three of you before disaster struck.

Footsteps echoed from the stairwell making your head whip towards it. Eyes widening a fraction, your brain was thrown into a whirlpool of thoughts , each one fighting for dominance over the other. You knew with absolute certainty that it was him. There was no one else in the house. You also knew the sound of his footsteps but that was a fact to be pondered upon on a different day.

Wait, he was a spymaster. Why was he making a sound in the first place?

He wants you to know. Doesn't want to catch you off guard. The still functioning part of your brain helps you out.

"Are you having a seizure?" Mor's voice registered in your head.

"No , but I might." you muttered under your breath, your body reacting before your mind could give it a command. Almost stumbling from your chair all the while trying to look as unbothered as possible, you excused yourself from the table mumbling a reason to your companions.

Exit points available. The stairwell. Your mind supplied. YOU CAN'T PASS BY HIM. DO BETTER.

The plant. - THE PLANT ?! What were you supposed to do ? Photosynthesize yourself ?!

Under the table.- Ah yes. Have a front row view to his crotch. Way to go.

Balcony.- We don't have WINGS! You screamed at yourself.

The door to your right.- Finally. A good option.

Your face must have exhibited a plethora of emotions during the internalized battle with yourself because Mor and Cass were staring at you like you had two heads.

"Y/N. Please sit down. Something is seriously wrong." Cass said rising from his chair.

"No. No. I just forgot to do something very very important. I'm going to be screwed. I just need to---"

"Have lunch. I'll help you out with whatever it is." The voice like night whispered over your skin setting off goosebumps in its wake. His scent enveloped you, taunting and teasing your senses. It almost seemed to whisper- Look at me.

So you did.

You had expected a smirk or a smile or even a twinkle in his eye. Nothing. No hint or trace of what had happened. No clue to suggest that he knew or that he was the one to send the note.

What if you were wrong? What if it wasn't him but someone else playing a joke on you?

"No it's alright. I..." You didn't get to finish the sentence as he pulled your chair back and motioned for you to sit down.

Sighing out loud you returned to your place at the table trying not to look at Azriel as he took the seat across. "What did you forget?" Cass was starting to sound suspicious. Racking your brain for a quick and believable answer, you blurted out "I have to respond to a letter. A very important one."

The double meaning of your reply hit you the moment it left your mouth. Your body betrayed you and turned your gaze towards Azriel.

Nothing. Blank as a slate.

Starting to grow frustrated, you stabbed into your chicken a little too enthusiastically.

"It's already dead." Azriel said dryly, not even bothering to look up from his food.

Mor let out a snort and thankfully started to recall a conversation she had with a friend of hers. You could feel the tension leave your body as the conversation and attention was steered away from you.

Get your shit together.

Fortunately, all of you were done eating not long after and everyone went back to their duties. Azriel hadn't said or done anything for the rest of the afternoon and you were seriously starting to doubt if you were wrong.

You made your way back to your room trying to make sense of your emotions along the way. There was a sense of relief that Azriel didn't know and yet it was tinged with the undertones of disappointment that he didn't know after all.

Did you want him to know or did you not?

You didn't know. UGH. Idiot.

Stepping into your room, you almost missed the note that caught under your foot.

Fuck. Another one.

Heart thudding painfully, you picked it up with trembling hands. It read:

Anyone is capable of falling in love with your heart. Me? I want to be the someone you give it to. -'Someone'

A/N: I did not intend to end it this way at all but here we areeee. Hope you guys enjoyed it !

TAGLIST : @crazylokonugget , @hayrunnwr , @fxckmiup , @wildlyobserving , @harrystylesfan2686 , @63angel , @charlotteintumbleland , @willowpains , @nyx-the-alien , @acourtofbatboydreams , @marina468 , @anuttellaa , @kalulakunundrum , @amygdtjhddzvb , @lulu22156

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iid-smile · 5 months ago

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hidden inventory students: headcanons

gojo, geto, shoko, haibara, nanami

gojo can scream in the most high pitched way ever. this usually happens when his ego gets to him during a mission and gets snuck up on from behind.

gojo has ripped his pants multiple times on different occasions. the worst one is when a girl he was flirting with dropped something, so he squats down and just like that, and rip right down the middle. he was wearing bright pink boxers with a pizza pattern btw... sometimes, he's not even shy about it.

gojo has the worst balance on trains. he has to lean against something or sit down because his legs shake like crazy. will always fall on the person next to him when the train stops, slow or fast it doesn't matter, even if the train doesn't move anybody else.

gojo frequently sends geto selfies with the most weird things. burnt food, ant's nest, inside of a truck, you name it.

when nobody's looking, geto pins back his bangs. he keeps a hairclip that shoko gifted him in his pocket, because he refuses to admit that they actually do get in the way.

geto has horrible back pain but the best posture. sits straight up as if he's been taped to the back of a chair. when he's walking? um... that's a different story.

geto matches other people's energy. it's not over the top, but he can adapt to all sorts of personalities and humour, both negatively and positively. it's most apparent with gojo and haibara. his whole entire mindset can change depending on who he's talking to.

geto has more haircare products than anything, not even skincare comes close. ask him about a particular shampoo or hair oil, and he can manage to go on a twenty minute rant about why you shouldn't buy it. never gives recommendations though (gatekeeper)

shoko laughs embarrassingly loud on purpose when anybody makes a bad joke. she does it most when guys try to catcall her or ask her out. also does it to gojo, but more as a joke because she likes how sulky he gets. it's actually kind of scary how she laughs too...

shoko hides her real cigarettes in a fake/candy cigarette box. may or may not keep an emergency lighter in there as well, but she doesn't know it's complete out. she does this so yaga doesn't find out she smokes.

shoko naps all the time during boring classes. poke her, shout in her ear, she will not wake up until something subconscious in her brain hears the school bell go off.

shoko prints off every photo she takes with a classmate. she sticks them on the wall of her dorm room, and separates them by person. the ones with utahime and meimei are put where she can easily see them and decorated with stickers. always puts a pink heart next to gojo's face for special reasons.

haibara is so overly positive it pisses people off. he always sees the good in people, so if a thief tries to rob him, he willingly hands his stuff over, because he always gives to "people in need". he gets upset when the thief gives him his stuff back and walks off.

haibara frequently compliment on how much people eat. we know his type is girls who eat a lot (i think) so he gets happy when somebody around him is just enjoying food and letting loose. doesn't really care if said person finds him weird, and he always buys them another little side dish or dessert.

haibara always looks out for other people. if he's in a crowded place like a party or amusement park, he always manages to find people at unexpected times and ask if they're okay/having fun. always checks the infirmary room just to make sure nobody's injured.

haibara is a natural magnet to children. somehow knows exactly how to play and communicate with them. maybe has siblings of his own, because he seems like the kind of guy that is the oldest of 5+ siblings yet still manages to have younger brother vibes.

nanami never poses for pictures. if he has to be in one via peer pressure, he stands straight, arms to his sides, and a grumpy look on his face (🧍‍♂️)

nanami spends a lot of time doing his hair. i know it doesn't look like he would, but he does. he uses a bunch of hairspray, so those strands do not move AT ALL. it's actually so hard and stiff if someone tries to touch it. because he puts so much, he has to wash his hair every day. legend has it that nobody's seen what his hair with no product looks like.

nanami has the worst attitude to those younger than him, but is so respectful to elders. like, it could be a whole 360 to what he's usually like. 90 degree bows, formal language and everything. bonus! shoko actually teases him the most about this.

nanami loves everyone in the group. dear, dear nanami... he's never open with his feelings. i don't think he could genuinely imagine his life being any more interesting than it is now if he hadn't joined jujutsu tech. it's not obvious, but he's always wishing the best for those around him. (we all know how that ended cough cough)

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months ago

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Summer Breeze 4

Warnings: age gap (reader is 22, Andrew is mid 40s), dad’s friend, Andy being Andrew, other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

“Can you drive?” Andy asks as he gets your dad in the back of his white SUV.

“I got... I got my license,” you hiccup in panic.

“No, can you drive?” He looks at you, “you got your head on?”

“I don’t-- I don’t know, Mr. Barber,” you stammer.

“Get in with him,” he points at your dad as he slumps in the back seat, “keep pressure on his head,” he shoves the balled rag into your hand, “I’ll drive.”

You can’t argue. You can’t think. You do what he says and he snaps the door shut behind you. You bring your dad’s heavy body closer, your arm around him as you press against the gashes across his scalp.

“Dad,” you babble.

“It'll be okay,” Andy says as he turns the engine, backing out sharply, “once we get back to the main roads, it’s a straight shot to the hospital.”

“What happened?” You croak as you cling to your father.

“I told him not to mess around,” Andy peeks in the rear view mirror, “he kept revving, lifting the front, I don’t know, he was screwing around. I told him it was gonna tip.” He shakes his head and sighs, “next thing I know, he’s headed straight for the dock and then...” he sounds like he’s choking, “he was in the water...”

You sit in stunned silence. Your dad is stubborn and reckless. He gets a few beers in him and he doesn’t listen to anything but his own brain. You can’t help but blame him for this. It’s not the first time he’s got himself hurt.

“He was drinking?”

“I...” Andy shrugs and slaps the wheel, “I had one beer. Didn’t even finish it. Too early. But he... I thought maybe two cans. I wasn’t worried but...”

“But he’s sneaky,” you finish, “I know. He drinks fast.”

“Didn’t have breakfast either. I offered him some but...”

You sniffle, “oh god.” You keep your hold on your dad as tears continue to flow.

“Sweetheart, it’s going to be alright,” Andy promises as he speeds up, “I’m gonna take care of you. I’m gonna get your dad there. Just keep that pressure on.”

You nod and gulp, your vision as skewed as your thoughts. Your hand trembles as you push down as much as you can. He’s going to be okay. He’s always okay. He’s your dad. He can’t go like this.

🌅

You sit in the waiting room. Rather, you pace. You haven’t been able to stay still since you got there. Since they rushed your dad off in a gurney and left you there. Your head races with all the worst thoughts. Shit, your mom. You have to call her.

You look at Andy as you reach instinctively to your thigh. You look down. You’re still in only your bikini. He at least has a tee shirt on over his trunk. Shoot.

“You got your phone?” You ask as you lower your voice and approach him. “Gotta call mom.”

“Oh, I think it’s out in the car,” he stands and you take a step back. “I’ll be back.”

“Right,” you bite your thumb, one arm over your chest, holding your other elbow. You sit as he leaves and you peer around, suddenly aware of all the eyes staring at you. You must look ridiculous.

You try to make yourself small as you jitter your legs. What are you going to tell mom? Dad’s hurt? Dad’s dead! Oh god, oh god! He's not going to die, right?

Before you can lose your cool, Andy returns. You look up as he holds out his phone, “here,” he offers a hoodie as well, “found this in the hatch.”

“Oh, thanks,” you stand and accept both.

You zip on the hoodie and squeeze the phone tight. You excuse yourself and go out to the outer vestibule to make your call. The first call goes to voicemail. The second too. You don’t bother a third time. You can’t leave a message about this. It’s too hard to explain. You just want to hear your mother’s voice but as usual, she’s not there.

You sigh and go back to the waiting room. You give Andy his phone and flop into the chair next to him. You fold over your lap and hold your head. The scent of iron tinges your nose and you look at your hands as you stay hunched over. You sit up straight at the sight of your dad’s blood still on your hands.

“Hey,” Andy rubs your shoulder, making you jump, “there’s a restroom over there.” He nods towards the other side of the room, “why don’t you get washed up. I’ll find some water or something.”

You stare at him, barely able to process his words. Finally, you stand and traipses away, sandals slapping on the floor. You go to the restroom and twist on the faucet. You gape at your own reflection. It takes a few minutes to get yourself together.

You lather your hands in soap and shove them under the water, scrubbing until they hurt. You finish and shut the tap off. You lean on the sink and stare at the drain. A shaky breath flutters out and you suck in a chestful before you push away.

You go back out to the waiting room. Andy startles you as he waits just outside. He has a bottle of water in his hand and a couple of packets. He offers you the bottle and a packet.

“Got you pretzels,” he says, “didn’t have much else.”

“Uh, thanks,” you accept them, hugging them to your chest numbly.

“Alright, sweetheart, let’s get you sitting,” he puts his hand against your back and guides you back towards the plastic chairs. “I’m sure they’ll be out soon. They’re taking good care of dad.”

You blink as you sit with him and grip your handful. You have a bad feeling it’s not going to be okay. How can he be sure? He can’t know. He doesn’t really know. He’s just saying what you’re supposed to say.

Still, it’s better than being alone. If it was just you... you hate to think what that would be like.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #defending jacob #summer breeze #series #drabble

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randomestdweller · 4 months ago

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A/N: i think I’ve fallen victim to the A03 writers curse as I dropped my beautiful computer down the stairs early this week. Anyways I hope yall enjoy a nice slow burn because I was 3500 words in like “I STILL HAVEN’T ADDED THE SMUT.” I think I did dumbification justice here but lmk ofc. Anyways this will be on A03 soon enough.

Office hours

Warnings: Dumbification, DubCon, Power Imbalances, cruel Zhongli lowkey, Spanking, Degradation. Lmk if I missed anything ❤️

Make sure to study chapters 9-10, 13, and 14 in your Geography Book and come prepared to discuss your findings next class.

Yeah right, if only the reading was comprehensible! The paragraphs about climatology jumbled together before flying off the pages, toward different corners of your room.

You’d studied so hard that when you squinted your eyes, it didn’t provide you with a clearer look, but instead blurred further. Only when you blink rapidly would the fog temporarily dissipate from view. At this point, you were one eye rub away from convincing yourself that this was a visual impairment, not a school related mental breakdown.

And that wasn’t the worst of it, your hands had begun to cramp from gripping your highlighter or pen while you frantically tried to write to retain some of the knowledge. That’s when you knew things were going downhill.

And to the surprise of no one, that didn’t work.

What was once a well organized notebook was now filled with scribbles or yellow streaks— and occasionally tears— as you continued to hunch over your desk.

You were— are a good student. B average, nice scholarship, advanced placement, everything had been going nicely but a stupid geography had been your downfall.

You didn’t intend on doing anything related to the subject when you took the class, and you surely weren’t now that you had a taste of the stress, but you had signed up for the class with a bit of peer pressure from your friends.

It was easy they said, we’d see each other more they claimed. If you could go back in time, you would warn yourself that only the latter was true, and only for a while anyway.

The first day of class in the crowded auditorium, you’d secured a plush seat with your group of friends. You’d figure the class would be easy enough, you’d taken a handle full of history classes through high school and now college.It didn’t hurt that Professor Zhongli was easy on the eyes—and the ears. His deep, rumbling voice paired with sharp hazel eyes was enough to distract you. And then there was that long ponytail, somehow managing to look both professional and a little magical when it caught the light. Oh, and an empty ring finger.

Honestly, if the whole teaching thing didn’t work out for him, envisioning Zhongli as a model wasn’t hard.

Everything started out fine. The first quiz had been easy enough, based on the contents of the syllabus Mr Zhongli passed out on the first day of classes.

After that, the harder stuff started. Climatology, Geomorphology, Hydrology, every single horrific

topic, that you couldn’t comprehend. The first couple class days, you would joke around with your friends, listen to music, anything else but study in the designated time. Your teacher however, never said anything, never called on you to answer a question, read aloud, nothing. If you doubted before he knew your name, you were sure he didn’t know it now.

When the second test came around, you knew you’d made a grave mistake, not only by not taking the class seriously but actually signing up for the class in the first place. A fat F, circled in red ink, rested at the top of your paper. When your friends sports low to mid A’s and B’s, you knew something had to give. And apparently the solution was simpler than you’d thought, as written in neat handwriting below the F was a note.

Perhaps you should try sitting up front, away from potential distractions.

Maybe instead of blindly signing up for the class you should have looked his name up on ratemyprofessor, even now you wanted to leave a scathing review on his surprisingly perfect record.

The paper was promptly balled up and thrown into a small corner of your room, probably next to your syllabus.

How utterly ridiculous. If he could notice you getting distracted during his lecture, he could also realize that you had stopped talking to your friends in class a long time ago.

But that wasn’t the real problem anyways, and you knew it. His class was too hard. It was deadline after deadline after deadline, whether it be of assigned reading, essays, peer review, and God forbid you attempted the extra credit.

There was bonus work to boost your grade so

of course you didn’t expect the work to be easy but hard was a true gross understatement.

The directions were simple enough, do this, this, this, a little more of that, and this again. As expected of a college course, but how could you manage to do all of that if you couldn’t finish— let alone understand the work you were actually required to do.

Soon enough though, you tossed your pride aside and moved to the front of the class. And true to his advice, you had been able to comprehend more, not a lot more, but something was better than nothing.

And it seemed he noticed too, his eyes began to actually find yours in class and his smile seemed genuine too. A polite, encouraging grin that never ceased to make your efforts seem worth it.

The next test, however, reminded you of your standing in the class. A cursive D+ sat like a black hole on the front of your quiz packet. Progress like that was truly no progress at all.

If you hadn’t already wasted water crying during the test itself, you would have broken down when he returned the paper to you. Face down.

With the actual exam coming up, you knew you needed to see Mr Zhongli in person. Under no circumstances could you fail this class, even if it didn’t help you further your career you still couldn’t flunk it. Lest you want to lose your scholarship.

The bag crossed over your chest, felt extra heavy as you trekked to Zhongli’s office. Maybe it was the computer, or the spiral notebook, but most likely it was the 319 page Geography book buried somewhere inside it. The physical copy was paid for by your scholarship but the online copy was not and being the broke College student you were, it definitely was not affordable.

Your knuckles brushed against the oak door, below the golden name plate that read Dr Morax. The name seriously fit him, it sounded just as professional as he was.

After a firm come in you found yourself inside his medium sized office.

He gave you time to take in your surroundings, multiple diplomas of varying degrees and schools hung on the cream walls. The wooden desk that separated you two was an organized mess, numerous stacks of papers, some graded, some not. Other nicks nacks were neatly placed on the desk, the school mascot bobblehead, newton's cradle, a small wooden globe, the things usually expected to see on a teacher's desk. This room was definitely bigger than most professors work spaces than you had seen.

“Please take a seat,” Mr Zhongli motioned to one of the plush seats in front of his desk. His own position was relaxed as he leaned back in the chair, hands folded neatly on his lap, one of his long legs sat draped over another. His slim ponytail was draped over his white button down, so long that it almost reached down to the black slacks he wore.

“Nice of you to finally stop by.”

Now that felt underhanded. Your eyes snapped up to him ready to say something back, but the words died in your throat at his look. HIs gaze was half lidded while he sported a lopsided smile that bordered on a smirk.

“Finally?” You sank into the seat, dropping your satchel onto the hardwood floor beside you with a sigh.

“Oh yes, your grade in my class is far from satisfactory.” Zhongli’s grin became tight while he spoke. The once playful glint in his eyes was taken over by a serious demeanor. Professor Zhongli.

You shifted forward, crossing your own legs to mimic his attitude.

“Yes sir, I’m sure you figured that’s why I’m here,” your voice sounded a lot more pathetic than you expected it to. It reminded you of the one time in high school when you begged your PE teacher to let you skip the FitnessGram Pacer test.

Let’s just say the second worst grade you’ve ever gotten was gym.

“I do,” Zhongli drawled, he now placed his arms on the desk, one hand remaining still while another gripped a pencil, “but truly, I’m not sure there’s much I can do for you.”

That was not what you had wanted nor expected to hear and your face reflected that. The whole wide-eyed mouth open shabang.

Zhongli released a breathy laugh at your expression, "there's nothing I can do for you but I believe you could help yourself.”

The anger you felt at his first dig was now bubbling back up, with more force. How many times could someone slyly insult you in one sitting?

¨And how could I do that sir?” Zhongli matched your attitude, pushing himself fully under the desk. His expression remained pleasant though, a nice albeit thin smile stretched across his face.

¨You could start by actually paying attention in class.”

Really? Like you hadn't just moved your seat to sit in the front of the class, mind you, BY YOURSELF. And all he had to offer is that your focus was still waning, it was though, only because you had the sexiest teacher ever though. Not from lack of effort on your part, so it’s not like it was truly your fault to start with.

Zhongli patiently waited for you to begin a retort before cutting you off with a demeaning wave of his hand, ¨Yes, yes, you moved. Like you should have from the start, you don't get a high five for doing what is expected of you. What I’d like to know is why you still struggle in my class, it’s definitely not from lack of opportunity.”

¨I assign plenty of extra credit, so I’m assuming it's not that.” Zhongli’s eyes flickered down, no not to your hidden bust, but to an open planner on his desk, before they met yours again. ¨Perhaps you should consider dropping my class.”

That finally made you bristle, visibly too, your eyes widened again as you recoiled. His words might as well have physically struck you. Being a good student meant that most teachers never had to criticize you, let alone act so sharp. His Zhongli’s blunt statements hurt in a way only a prideful student like you could feel.

You needed to act unbothered and hopefully, get under his skin too. Fixing your face into something a bit more stoic you started again.

“Doesn’t it reflect badly on a Professor if they have failing students?” You found your nails to be more interesting than meeting Zhongli’s intense gaze, his eyes seemed alight from the fierce way he stared at you.

What you didn’t expect was a throaty laugh from him, that pulled you from your nail inspection.

“Students, yes. One singular student, not so much.”

Negotiations had definitely fallen through.

Outwitting people was something you were good at. One thing that hurts more than having your ego bruised is having it body slammed when you find out you're not as good at something as you believed yourself to be.

Reading your reaction Zhongli chuckled again, “oh dear, not the answer you wanted was it?”

Your eyes couldn’t lift from the floor now, but even that served as a constant reminder of the stage you were hoping to walk on. Before any of this happened.

Zhongli’s voice pierced the silence, “Well, I have some time to help you study now, is that fine with you?”

Really there was only one choice, but you contemplated both regardless. You needed his help to bring up your grade and hopefully pass the upcoming exam but also, you didn’t want him to belittle you any further.

Maybe you could study on your own. In high school you reviewed for biology tests using the Amoeba Sisters. Did they even have anything like that for geography though?

When you found the courage to meet Zhongli’s eyes again, now lounging in his chair with his hands braced behind his head. Your ears tinted pink when you saw his lips, still in a smirk but not as wide.

Maybe you could deal with his taunting for an hour or two. For your grade of course! Not because he was gorgeous or anything. Although it helped.

“Fine,” decided to lighten the mood a bit you added, “hopefully you’re better at this than in class.”

Zhongli let out a breathy laugh while he leaned further back in his chair to glance at the clock. “Perhaps, though you may find my teaching methods unconventional.”

“Oh?” You dug into your satchel to find your textbook, “how so?”

Zhongli crossed his arms in front of himself before releasing a thoughtful groan, one that had your pupils blow open a fraction wider. “How about I quiz you, and for each question you get wrong..”

His gaze flickered from the sky of contemplation to you, “I could use a more… tactical approach. Like consequence and reward.”

As his smirk seemed to stretch, the air in the office became heavier. You blinked, believing you were imagining his suggestive voice.

“Consequence?” It’s not like your grade could get much lower so what could he do to harm you?

The pause that followed was thick with unspoken meaning, you didn’t dare move either. You were frozen in the plush chair, pinned by Zhongli’s half lidded stare.

“For each wrong answer, I could bend you over my knee and spank you.”

You blinked, then blinked again. Did he really just say that so calmly? Like he asked you to make a batch of flashcards. Heat rose to your already rosey cheeks, and you quickly looked away, feeling your heartbeat just a bit faster.

“You can’t be serious!”

“What’s wrong with that? It’s a straightforward form of discipline, it may even work on you.” The way he said the word you sent a chill down your spine. The word felt heavier, like he was implying that even someone of your caliber could understand.

You swallowed, hard. But you didn’t stand up from the chair, nor did you threaten to report him. Instead you stayed seated and actually considered his suggestion.

“What if I get the answers right?”

You seemed to be endless entertainment to Zhongli as he laughed again before retorting, “as unlikely as that maybe, we can come up with a suitable reward if that happened.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears as you completely ignored the ruder side of this comment.

Zhongli leaned in slightly as he gestured to the study materials laid out on his desk, “shall we begin? Or are you not going to be attentive enough again?”

He was challenging you, skillfully he goaded you

into playing his game, to participate in something where you both knew you were likely to lose. Maybe it was the lack of sleep that caused you to act so desperate. If you told on him now, you could probably drop the class without it being on your record, but a deeper desire helped guide your answer.

“I can focus,” you said, a little sharper than you had intended, “what’s the first question?”

Zhongli reached for the discarded textbook on his desk, flipping to a random page towards the middle. His smirk deepened as he read over the line.

“This is something we went over in class rather recently. Describe the process of orographic precipitation.”

Before you could catch yourself, your face fell. Your mind had blanked on you. And given the cruel grin Zhongli bore, he knew you wouldn’t know the answer.

Even though you vaguely remembered the name written on the board in class, the words didn’t arrange themselves in your head for you to create a clear answer with.

“I don’t remember,” you quickly added before Zhongli could speak, “this isn’t fair, you knew I wouldn’t know this.”

“I just opened the book, I didn’t choose the page at all.” His smug tone was nothing to match the satisfacted grin proudly stretched across his face.

“I also just mentioned we went over this in class so maybe it’s not any fault of mine anyway.”

No use in arguing with him especially because you did somewhat recall him going over it.

“Next question.”

For five whole minutes, Zhongli asked you question after question. Each of which you got pitifully wrong. As time went on you itched for Zhongli to end this sadistic game, which he was no doubt dragging out. Maybe to humiliate you, or maybe to tally up each incorrect answer and actually hit you for each of them.

Your face began to blush at the possibility of him actually spanking you. He probably only said it to get under your skin and hopefully get better results. If that was the case, you’d be very disappointed but also relieved, you didn’t want to get hit that much.

“—paying attention.”

“Latitude!” You exclaimed before shrinking in on yourself. You knew for a fact that the answer to whatever question he asked that ended in paying attention was definitely not latitude and nor would an answer be so simple with him.

Suddenly Zhongli stood up, dropping the textbook closed back onto his desk. His expression was somewhat pleased but also very annoyed. Once he reached your side of the desk, he grasped your wrist, pulling you to your feet. And with a gentle yet steady hold, he guided you to his side where he once again sat down, only to look up at you expectantly.

Zhongli’s black trousers made it hard to see any depth in his pants, but from the visible bulge you could make an educated guess on how he was feeling.

“Must I spell everything out for you? Lower your pants and bend knees over my legs.”

Face falling again, you tried to ask why that was necessary before Zhongli cut in with a sigh.

“How will I know it truly hurts if I’m not hitting your skin?”

That was almost a logical explanation if it wasn’t so sadistic. Your face must have been bright red with embarrassment as you unbuttoned your slacks. His honey eyes tracked your every move, as you lowered the fabric down your legs, then stepped out of them all together.

Feeling a bit relieved at your choice of black underwear, and not your hot pink ones, you slowly draped yourself across Zhongli’s lap.

Only a few seconds ago, you were speculating on if Zhongli was actually hard or not but now you could tell he was as his erection poked your waist.

You could feel his heat from his palm warming your plush flesh as he rubbed small circles on your ass above your underwear.

Then came the first hit. A sharp pain stretched across both mounds of soft tissue, the ache rippled down your legs and to your toes. Rebelliously, you bit your lip to hide any noises of discomfort or the subtle pleasure.

“Oh? After being shown just how pathetic you are, you refuse to even take your punishment correctly?”

The hand Zhongli had used to hold you flush against his lap, slipped to your face and squeezed your nose shut. In shock, you opened your mouth to protest but before you could, a much harder slap landed against your ass. A loud cry of pain— definitely not pleasure, tumbled from your lips.

Heavy tears traveled down your face and wet Zhongli’s pants.

“Two hits and you’re already crying?” He softly kneaded the skin before slapping it again, “no matter, I assumed if you weren’t good at school you’d be good at this.”

“But I am good at school! It’s just your stupid class—.”

A slap rang out in the room as Zhongli delivered the harshest slap yet. This time he didn’t rub the skin, instead he lifted you off his lap and placed you on the cold hardwood floor of his office. The coolness soothed your burning bottom.

“You may surprise me yet with some skill.”

You took only a second to wipe your tears before you heard the sound of Zhongli removing his belt. Instinctively, self preservation won because you scrambled back, hitting your head on the edge of Zhongli’s desk in the process. But shockingly enough, he didn’t wrap it around his hand to hit you harder.

Instead he placed it on the desk as he worked on undoing his slacks button and zipper. Once he finished that, Zhongli reached into his pants to pull out his penis.

Truth be told, you weren’t a prude, you’d had sexual encounters before, none that went past giving or receiving oral sex but still. Zhongli’s dick was pretty too though, a thick underside vein ran from the scrotum to his tip. The head itself was flushed, apparently the blush he lacked on his face his cock made up for.

Still, the size itself was impressive, you couldn’t tell how long it was but at least your fist and a half.

From the angle you sat on the floor at, you couldn’t tell if he had any hair but you doubted a man as well kept as Zhongli would be anyways.

Suddenly his hands shot out and grabbed you under your arms, turning you around and placing him on his lap. In this position his thighs rested between yours.

“I had considered making you suck me off when you eventually did come to see me about your grade but to think you were such an… abysmal student, we’ll just do this for now.”

Zhongli lifted your ass before sliding your panties to the side and thumbing your clit.

“You couldn’t even take your punishment honorably, not that I expected you too anyways..”

Zhongli droned on as he rubbed same circles on your pearl. Though you hadn’t heard a single word he said, not that you had the capacity to do so anyhow, his fingers skillfully manipulated you to putty in the man’s hands. His middle finger slipped to your entrance as he began to lethargically massage your g-spot.

You had heard of that area but, you nor your previous partners had been able to stimulate it the same way Zhongli was now.

Reached a new height as he introduced another finger, further pressing into the velvety zone.

Maybe it was because you hadn’t been touched in so long that you came so quickly but it happened regardless. Your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave as Zhongli allowed you to ride it out. The pleasure was kin to a hot shower (that you would definitely be taking once this was over with) after a long day. One of those showers that you sit in the tub and let the water trickle down from your hair to your toes.

Once the pleasure was over though, it was done completely. Zhongli removed his hands before pushing you down into the desk, half of your face buried into a stack of ungraded papers. His hand pressed down between your shoulder blades effectively pinning you to the wood.

You heard the chair roll behind you as Zhongli stood up, his penis slipping in between your folds.

“Now that you’ve had your pleasure, I will be taking mine.”

Without further warning, Zhongli began to pierce you, inch by inch he sunk deeper in your quim. He wasn’t rough, nor was he forceful as he pressed on. His hand still remained placed on your back but his other trailed down your side before grabbing your hip and pulling you back onto him. So now not only was he entering you, he was pulling you back to meet him halfway.

Your lower body ached at the intrusion, as low moans of pain and contentment left you. It felt weird to be filled up like this but also so natural. Now you hated not going further than oral sex with anyone else.

When Zhongli was completely inside you, he stopped moving to sigh, “truly made for this. If all were to fail, you could always sell yourself. I’m sure you’d make a nice sum of mora.”

Words of protest were turned into lewd moans as Zhongli began to grind into you, not not thrusting but slowly rolling his hips. Remembering your setting you bit your lip again, in hopes of not drawing unwanted attention.

“Don’t,” Zhongli began to pick up the pace, no longer rocking but instead coming all the way out before pounding back into you, hitting that special sponge inside you. “Everyone has already left for the day.”

Your gasp was turned into a high pitched moan as Zhongli rammed into you particularly hard. Him knowing that no one was there let you know just how in control of the situation Zhongli was, with that came a shocking revelation. He probably planned this all along.

You weren’t given anymore time to think about that possibility as Zhongli slightly lifted your chest from the desk. Now that one of his hands no longer had to hold you down, it wrapped around to toy with your nipple.

The harsh pulling on the soft nub brought out more yells from you as he didn’t relent of his intent to bully his way into your womb.

“Look at you,” Zhongli cooed, “drooling on yourself.”

Although his words were embarrassing, they didn’t register in your mind as you tried to bounce in tandem with his thrusts. At least you attempted to before his grip on your hip tightened in warning.

That hand also slipped to the front and sloppily rubbed your clit, leaving you to support your rocking weight on unsteady arms. The sound of his hips meeting your sore ass sent resounding sharp claps into different corners of the room.

It felt like hours upon hours of Zhongli’s grunting in your ear, the sudden sharp pain shooting up your spine from your butt, him pinching your sensitive nipple.

Now his movements were a bit choppy as, you assumed, Zhongli was close to reaching his orgasm. As opposed to traveling faster, his cock was going deeper, looking to bury its head in your cushiony womb. Merely seconds before him, you came. A second mind numbing euphoria, almost as rich as the last one covered you like a heated blanket. Your eyes squeezed closed as you were captured in bliss.

Just as sudden as it had started, it ended, as Zhongli emptied himself inside you. After a few seconds of his warm seed spurting inside you. The room was still hot with both of your gasps as Zhongli’s musky cologne permeated your senses from behind you.

Following your shared daze, he pulled out of you, allowing his semen to also drip onto the floor. You collapsed face first onto your geography textbook. Behind you, Zhongli’s leather seat creaked as he fell onto the chair. The sound of a draw opening made you aware enough to open your eye a little bit.

Zhongli's fingers came into view as he held a small tablet, “It’s a plan b.”

Opening your mouth to allow him to place the pill on your tongue you shut your eye again. You wanted the moment to never end, the nerve damaging pleasure you experienced tonight was truly life changing, but your momentary reprieve was ruined by the sound of Zhongli redoing his pants. In the midst of cleaning himself up, he rubbed up and down your back gently.

“You’re earned an A for the quarter by the way.”

Quick end note. Do you think Zhongli have a plan b implies that he’s done this before or that he prepared for you really well?

#genshin impact yandere zhongli x reader #yandere zhongli x reader #genshin impact zhongli x reader #zhongli smut #zhongli x reader #yandere zhongli #kinktober

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hazz-a-bear · 10 months ago

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YOUR HAND IN MINE, wen junhui

♡⸝⸝ As soon as Junhui shot up and excused himself from the dinner table, your eyebrows furrowed in concern. If only the love of your life trusted you enough to take care of him at his worst.

.ᐟ sick junhui ( i'm sorry for inflicting pain on this boy, i really am ) fever, mention of throwing up, nervous and stressed reader, junhui needs to learn how to ask for help, the daunting ordeal of not asking to be taken care of because of the fear that comes with being a burden to your loved ones, absolute sweethearts minghao and jihoon

a/n - sick junnie is such a cat, i can cry. somebody give this boy a kiss and tell him it's okay. leave some feedback please please <3

masterlist | taglist

When Jihoon suddenly puts a hand on your shoulder, you jump in your seat. Startled by his out-of-order action, you let your eyes find his, a question pausing in the air. You watch as Jihoon sighs and gives you a look - quite unreadable as always. When you simply cocks your head to the side, Jihoon is sighing again like a damsel in distress before he finally nudges his gaze towards your lap, specifically, your knee and oh –

You let your eyes zero on the way your knee bounces in sync with the song playing through the venue - a good hundred-something bpm to it and almost making it look like it's having a seizure of its' own. Wait, holy shit, were you shaking the fucking table?

"Calm down, you weren't" It's Minghao who comforts you from the other side of you, having moved to the empty seat next to you while you've been distracted. "You're fidgety"

Minghao is almost peering into you, doe eyes slightly wide as they run along your face with concern clearly written across his eyes. From your other side, Jihoon is pretending to not listen. He's long retracted his hand and sat back in his seat, but you knew he still had one year stuck in the conversation out of concern.

"Yn," Minghao almost whispers as if not to bother you. "Hey, calm down. It's okay. I'm sure he's alright"

You try your best to nod, not trusting yourself to give him a verbal answer knowing you would just end up with a whole lot of nonsense pouring out of your mouth as a result of your nerves. But still, even as you silently reassure him, you can't seem to stop the shaking in your leg, the shudder in your breath and that god-awful feeling in your gut.

"I'll go check on Jun" Jihoon says from your right, giving away how he'd been listening and making you look up at him.

He's already getting up from his place, brushing his hands against his pants as he squeezes between your chairs and slips away from the seat. From the corner of your eye, you see Minghao trying to get up as well, only to be forced back into his chair by Jihoon with a hand on his shoulder.

"Stay with her. I'll go" You hear Jihoon say to the younger, stern and a rare display of worry dripping from the words rolling out of his tongue.

"Yn? Yn, look at me" There's a light feeling of pressure on your knee, and you turn your face to meet Minghao's eyes, ever so comforting. "Hey, it's okay, honey. Jihoon hyung will check on him, okay? And then they'll be back, and then he'll be right here next to you. No need to get worked up, yeah? Junnie wouldn't want you to get worked up at all"

Minghao is peering into your face again, nodding and confirming if you've processed what he's saying before smiling kindly at you. "So, just breathe. He's okay"

The way Minghao is so careful with his words, trying to calm you down with the gentlest touch and the softest words reminds you of just how great of a person he is.

Minghao has always been so fond of you, ever since you entered Jun's life as a constant figure. At first, he might have been a little hard to approach. Considering just how protective he was of his Jun gēgē, you understood when Minghao shied away from warming up to you when you'd been introduced to each other. Junhui had been the most eager when the two of you met, almost bouncing off his feet at the mere thought of his two favourite people (his words, of course) becoming close. It had taken some time for you two to get comfortable with each other as Jun's best friend and Jun's partner, yet by now, you're convinced that Minghao considered you a sister - maybe a mother figure even. Minghao is now one of your best friends as well - the two of you often hang out by yourselves, sharing similar likings in music and flavours of tea. So it was inevitable for him to get worried when you started spacing out ten minutes into Junhui's disappearance - eyes hazy and knee starting to bound under the table.

"He kept saying he didn't feel good. He actually didn't seem well at all today" You stagger, slumping your head. "I thought it was nothing, so I didn't bother asking. Gosh, Hao, I should've checked on him a little more"

"Hey, come on" Minghao shifts in his seat, bringing a hand to rest on top of yours in an attempt to console you. "He'll be okay, I'm sure. You have nothing to be scared of. Jihoon is with him, yeah? He'll be feeling better, and he'll be back to his usual self in no time, yn"

"But I should've asked. Hao, you know perfectly well how he doesn't say out loud when he's sick. He thinks he's being a burden, so he doesn't tell me even though he needs me. And god, it worries me so much" You try your best to stay calm, seeing a few others like Joshua and Jeonghan looking your way with lifted eyebrows and confused glances.

You seriously did not want to cause a scene in the middle of the function in front of everyone - but also, you had an extent to keep your composure while your boyfriend was probably passing in the restroom.

The Seventeen boys ( or mostly Seuncheol and his wallet ) had planned a dinner party, a quiet get-together with all their close friends following the end of their tour.

Junhui had been so excited when he passed you the invite, all giddy and smiles, bouncing on his feet as he suggested the two of you should wear matching outfits and be lovey-dovey all evening to purposefully piss Jeonghan off for his 'lack of bitches/respectfully' ( Again, his words ) His excitement passed on to you, more because of Junhui's boxy smile and lit up eyes as he romped around than the whole dinner ordeal. Sure, you were just as eager to celebrate the guys finally having a moment to wind down, but seeing Junhui so happy-go sunshine was better than anything in the whole world.

When the two of you woke up this morning, Junhui hadn't forgotten to cheerily mumble into your shoulder about how he picked a suit to match your outfit, and Jeonghan was going to be so sour all night about it.

You had expected him to be stuck to you all day, talking your ear off about everything and nothing all at once since today had been an off day for him. His habitual routine at home was being stubborn all day and refusing to let go of your arm to follow you around the house like a boy cat.

You hadn't first noticed any signs of sickness at all as Junhui spent the morning like usual, clinging to your back and playing on his phone for the most part. And when he asked if he could go and lay down for a while, you'd simply thought he wanted to rest out of the weariness that came with the newly ended tour.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead before sending him off to bed to get a good rest, knowing he would have to stay active for the latter part of the night. Junhui almost slept the entire afternoon off, curled up on your bed with a newfound frown pinching his eyebrows together even in his state of unconsciousness. When you finally woke him up, Junhui had spent a fair share of minutes groaning and whining before getting out of bed, saying something about a headache, and quickly waving a hand to shoo you off when you instantly got worried.

Even as you kept asking him once the two of you left the house, he had simply smiled and pressed a soothing kiss to your temple over the console, telling you not to worry your pretty little head ( His words for the third time )

It was Seungkwan who pointed out how pale Junhui looked, joking about how he should go out into the sun a little bit more or he'd end up like Jihoon. Mingyu and Seokmin joined, saying something about how it would be another Macau situation if he didn't take care of himself enough - which made you throw a hurried gaze of worry towards Junhui, who avoided your eyes as his life depended on it.

Even Seungcheol, who mostly kept to himself turned towards you at some point during the night, quietly asking if Junhui had been eating well after returning home from the tour.

And since then, you hadn't been able to stop the waves of worry from washing over you.

Junhui had been doing a great job of trying to pretend like he was okay for the most part. The painful pinch that took over his features while he made conversation with one of the guests was gone as soon as it came. Junhui was back to his usual smile with rattled eyes darting around to see if he'd been caught. Later, when you saw him wavering on his feet, hand immediately flying to his temple, you had been by his side in an instant, asking if he was surely okay. Your boyfriend flashed his million-dollar smile at you once again, turning away to introduce you to one of his friends and successfully steering the attention away from the matter at hand.

It was when Junhui excused himself from the table to go to the restroom you started getting anxious. It was clear to anyone with a working pair of eyes that Junhui was not feeling well. Even if nobody voiced anything outright - the concerned looks the boys threw at you said enough.

And now, seeing Jihoon return with his face twisted into a scowl, you were on your feet immediately, anxiety doubling in amount and Minghao following right beside you.

"What's wrong?" Your voice came out breathless and frantic, hands reaching to hold Jihoon by the arms. "Is he okay?"

"He caught something serious by the looks of it" Jihoon sighs with an unsettling look in his eyes. "He threw up. Dinner and maybe lunch too, all of it. I tried to get him out, but he's asking for you. He doesn't look good"

From the corner of your eyes, you can see how the rest of the boys are trying to listen to your conversation, wanting to know how Jun's doing after abruptly getting up and leaving the table.

Not sparing a glance at anyone, you're pushing past Jihoon in the direction of the restrooms in an instant. If it was any other time, you would have lingered outside waiting for Junhui to come back to you instead of barging inside the men's room. But this wasn't any other time - Junhui wasn't well and he clearly needed you with him - even explicitly telling Jihoon outright.

"Junnie" You're whispering when you finally push the door to the overly luxurious restroom, gaze falling on your boyfriend sitting against the heavy door of one of the stalls.

Jihoon and Minghao, who had followed after you hot on their heels, were kind enough to wait outside without tracking your steps - possibly knowing Junhui would want some time alone with you. You knew the two would be outside with ears turned your way anyway, ready to be of help if you needed.

"My baby, what's wrong?" Without even minding the condition of the outfit you're wearing, you kneel right in front of him on the shining marble of the floor.

Junhui cracks his eyes open as you bring up a hand to his flushed face. "Yn" He croaks, the scratch in his voice making you wince as you shuffle closer, stroking the warm skin of his cheeks. "It hurts. My head, my throat, I- I don't- I don't know what happened"

"Oh sweetheart, you should've told me. I was so worried" Junhui leans his face into your hand as you trace your fingers against his skin, reminding you of his kitty antics. One of his own hands comes up to shakily wrap around your wrist, keeping you close to him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to upset you" He whispers, eyes still drooping out of exhaustion. "Jihoonie said you were upset. I'm sorry"

"I wasn't upset at you, Jun. I was just worried" With a smile, you reassure him, not wanting to show your uneasiness with him in such a vulnerable condition. "Tell me how you feel, baby. Did you throw up?"

Junhui nods, eyes drooping and lips forming into an adorable pout.

"My poor baby" You can't help but pull your lips into a pout as well, cooing and bringing your other hand to cup his face between your cold palms.

As much as you hated the idea of Junhui getting sick on your watch, you secretly loved the clinginess that came with it like a plague. A sick Junhui meant an extra sulky Junhui, all cute pouts and teary eyes looking up at you until he'd successfully lured (lowkey coerced) you into giving him all your attention (doting on him 24/7 and doing things you wouldn't have agreed to do for a healthy Junhui)

After the initial dilemma of processing the fact that he's been bedridden, Junhui usually had the habit of pulling a drama queen card out of his pocket whenever he got sick. He would flat-out refuse to eat, take his medicine or sometimes even go see a doctor at all. Throwing small fits whenever you tried to argue with him about it, he would always guilt trip you into cuddling with him at the end of the day, unable to keep his limbs to himself.

But still, you adored the devious being he turned to whenever he was sick, mumbling in his sleep and nibbling on his food like a little cat as you orbit around him, pampering him like no tomorrow.

"Do you wanna go home, Jun? You feel really warm. Jihoon said you have a fever" You mumbled with a frown, hands feeling around for the warmth that radiated off his skin.

"Mmh. Jihoon's lying, I'm perfectly fine" Junhui opens his eyes and looks at you with a cheeky smile pulling on his lips. Yet, the small wince in his eyes is too noticeable to slip past your attention.

You pat his cheeks with a smile to match his. "Oh really, is that so? Well, I'm still taking you home and grounding you for the next two weeks so, we can't do anything about that"

Junhui exaggerates a whine at that, head rolling back against the door, dramatizing his dislike towards the idea of being the victim of your worries for the next couple of days. But you both know how much he loves to be the centre of your attention - being cared for and so so loved on like he deserved to be.

Junhui then silently lets you fuss over him, wiping his face with damp towels trying to soothe the flaring of warmth that's spreading through him.

Typically, Junhui would have been smiling his boxy smile, trying to lighten the mood by cracking his list of bad jokes as you fussed over him. So when he just sits silently with his head thrown back and eyes closed, you assume his condition might be a little more severe than usual. You can see the way he is still flushed, a sheen of sweat left behind as a result of the fever spreading through him. His hands are clammy where he keeps them in his lap, a clear sign of just how flimsy he's feeling now.

"My head hurts" He mumbles once you settle down in front of him again, immediately making you run a hand through his hair softly. You try to massage his head, fingers pressing to his temples knowing it usually helps with his migraines.

"We'll go home, okay?" You say. "You need to rest, Jun. You're still exhausted- you're gonna say no but your body needs lots of rest, baby. I knew something was wrong when you went to bed earlier, I just didn't think you'd get sick so soon"

Though you try your best to not let your voice waver, you know Junhui's picked up on the way your demeanour shrinks from the way your voice quietens down. Junhui, ever so observant and managing to see through all the cracks, opens his eyes to look over at you with a pinched frown.

He blindly reaches for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours, bringing them up to his lips. You watch as he turns your palm towards him and presses a kiss to the middle of your palm. He lets your hands rest against his face, cradling it close before he starts to speak.

"I should've told you" He sighs, nuzzling his nose against your palm. "I- I just didn't want to bother you, you know? You've been so busy with work and I just - I just didn't want to add on to it, yn. I've been away for so long and you've been nothing but looking after me all this time. I just wanted to stop being so...so dependent. I thought I could look after myself, not be a burden for once. I'm sorry"

You feel a part of your heartbreak as you listen to Junhui's words - spoken so solemnly as he explains how he simply wanted to stop being so reliant on you and take care of himself as a person. As if he could ever be a burden in your dictionary of love and as if he doesn't know that your world quite literally revolves around him at all times.

"Don't...don't say that" You start, making him pause on his words. "Don't ever- god, Jun. Don't ever say you're being a burden - to me, out of everyone"

Junhui's eyes are glazed over with a meek apologetic look as you try to form your words, too perplexed to even string your thoughts together. "You'll never be a burden to me, you know that? Never. If anything, I'm always fucking itching to know what's going on in this mind of yours. I always want to know when you're feeling bad or sick or just, anything. I always want to know how you're doing. I'm here to take care of you. Fever, no fever- I'm always going to look after you and coddle you, Jun"

"I love you so much, okay? I don't want you to think you're burdening me by telling me you have a fever darling. I always want to know. What if Jihoonie didn't come to check on you, hm? Would you have been able to go back out there by yourself and pretend everything's fine?" Junhui's face lowers as he lets your words wash over you.

Trying to keep your voice as comforting as possible, you lift his face to meet his eyes, a bit glazed over with a crumpled expression.

"Don't ever say sorry for wanting to be taken care of, Wen Junhui" Your words are soft, yet, sharp. "Not when you know you know I would run to the ends of the earth of you. Not when you know I know you would do the same for me if I was ever in your place"

"You deserve so much love and I won't ever sleep peacefully without knowing I've shown you how much I do"

Junhui stares at you, lips downturned and eyes suddenly glassy and shining under the harsh light of the room. You smile at him, tipping his head up a little, not wanting to let the tears fall past his waterline. He returns a watery smile with a small nod when you pass a pointed look, trying to convey just how serious your words were. He takes a shaky breath, blinking away the tears in his eyes before he looks back up at you.

"You're so good to me. Always"

"I love you" You lean forward before pressing a fleeting kiss to his temple and resting your lips against his warm skin - trying to ignore the fact that you're both still settled on the shiny floor of the bathroom.

"I love you too. Thank you"

The two of you are broken apart when a knock is heard through the door before it's pushed open and Minghao pokes his head through the gap. Jihoon shuffles in right behind Minghao, taking a moment to go a once over of their position on the floor before rolling his eyes/fondly.

"Gē, how are you?" Minghao kneels right next to you, a hand reaching up to rest against Junhui's forehead as the younger searches his face.

"I think I've caught a fever, Hao" Junhui, gazing at him with lax eyes, gives him a tight-lipped smile. "Puked my entire dinner down, my throat hurts now"

"Oh, Junnie" The younger lets his hand rest against the side of his face, thumb stroking the skin of Jun's ear comfortably. "You should've told yn, you idiot. What if it got worse, huh? You passed out or something and Jihoon hyung didn't come to check up on you? What then? Do you know how worried yn was? Stop being a dummy"

Junhui squints his eyes as Minghao scolds him, nodding his head along to the sharp words the younger throws at him with practised ease. Minghao jabs at his side for the effect yet the gentle and relieved look in his eyes under the faux rage isn't hard to notice.

"Yeah," Jihoon agrees from next to them. "You gave us quite the scare"

Junhui fixes his lips into another pout when Jihoon lightly smacks his head, looking down at him from where he's standing. The look on his face makes Jihoon sigh before he reaches to softly ruffle his hair with a carefully masked gleam of affection.

"We should get you home" Minghao's looking up at you when he says, still stroking Jun's skin, making you agree with a firm nod. Looking back at your boyfriend who opens his mouth to protest, he fixes him with one short and sharp look. "If you even try to come up with a fuck ass reason to why we should let you stay here when you look like utter shit and clearly needs to lie the fuck down, I'm gonna punch you in the eye"

"No hesitation, no remorse" Jihoon joins, fingers tightening in Junhui's hair as if to emphasize the seriousness of his threat. With an amusing helpless look in his eyes, Junhui looks over to you who's still kneeling in front of him, fiddling with his fingers on top of your lap.

"And I'll tell Seungcheol you're refusing to go to a doctor" You shrug and Junhui almost shudders. They all know how serious (and fucking terrifying) Seuncheol is when it comes to health.

Eventually - and by eventually, you mean after throwing a fit about that fact that he's being taken home and only settling down once you'd promised to let him eat breakfast for dinner for the next two nights - Junhui agrees to return home with you.

You try not to worry too much when he wobbles on his feet once Minghao and Jihoon pull him up from the floor. Understanding how he's not stable on his own, Junhui clings to the two as they steer him out of the restroom and promise to take him straight to the car.

"People are going to think I drank too much and passed out or something, oh god" You smile at the way Junhui's whine carries down the hallway away from you.

When you're back at the main area, quietly grabbing your bag and excusing yourself from everyone, some of the boys are quick to pull you aside. Once you've reassured them that yes, Jun is okay and no, he doesn't have a severe case of Diarrhea, Chan, it's a fever, you say your goodbyes to them. Jeonghan, who's close to tears and fretting like a mother hen, offers to walk you to your car yet, you're saved by Seungcheol who pulls the other to his side with an understanding smile.

"Hannie, yn will update us, don't worry" He assured the boy before turning towards you. "Take care of him, okay? I'll clear his schedule and let you know. Just- make sure he's okay, yn"

"Of course, always"

When you finally approach your car, you notice how Junhui is already settled in the passenger seat, eyes closed and breathing a little easier than before. You smile at the way Jihoon is stroking through his hair, trying to act cool about it when he notices you looking.

"I'll take him home now" You announce. "Thank you guys. Really, thank you so much. You already did so much"

"Anything for Jun" Jihoon mumbles. "He's been working hard"

Minghao moves to give you a small hug, rubbing your back soothingly. "You're okay to drive? We can get a driver for you if not"

"Yeah, I'm okay" You confirm. "I didn't have anything to drink"

"I know. But you're sure?" You know Minghao is asking if you're in a clear state of mind to handle a vehicle this deep into the night, knowing you've been a bit ruffled earlier. With a sure nod, you assure him.

"Get home safe, yn. Send me a text and make sure he's well rested, please"

With the promise of nursing Jun to your best capability, you ultimately get in the car before pulling away from the parking lot. Finally, you let out a breath, feeling the heaviness in your heart substituting while the task of bringing Junhui home and making sure he's taken care of properly for the night is pushed to the limelight of your priorities. You feel the exhaustion, all the nerves and the worries you spent on the boy you love, finally catching up to you as you drive through the city streets. Sparing a glance at the same boy now peacefully resting on the passenger seat next to you, skin lit up by the dim street lights outside, you feel your heart filling with a new wave of affection towards the only one who held your heart in his hands.

God, how you loved him.

When Junhui's fingers blindly reach across the console to lace with your own in the dark, you know his hand was the one thing you'd never allow yourself to let go of.

thank you.

#seventeen #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #wen junhui #moon junhui #junhui imagines #wen junhui x reader #wen junhui fluff #wen junhui angst #wen junhui imagines #svt jun

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angstywaifu · 9 months ago

Text

Black Dahlia - 1. No Daughter of Mine.

Synopsis: TBA Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia ?????) A/N: I couldn't wait any longer to start sharing this series with you guys. I am so excited for you to meet Dahlia and go on this roller coaster of a journey with me. This is your warning that this series will have a decent amount of angst and hurt, and will be a slow burn. Garrick going to have his work cut out for him And I'm curious... who do you think her sibling is after this?

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist

Of course I would dream of that day. Of course my brain would bring up this memory now. Making me relive the worst day of my life. Doomed to haunt me till the day I would shrivel up and die.

There I am. So young and naïve. Not a care in the world as I run through the trees with my friends. No clue of what’s to come in a mater of minutes.

My feet push me further and further into the forest. Everything a blur of green and brown. My heart hammering loudly in my chest as I push myself to keep going. To win.

I can hear the sounds of their foot steps behind me. But not gaining. No. I was the fastest. The more agile. It gave me an upper hand while manoeuvring through the trees. I was going to win.

Ahead the trees start to thin, more light seeping into the dense forest. A beacon guiding us to the finish line. But for me…. It was guiding me to victory.

The boys had been stupid to suggest a race through the forest. But they were determined to beat me. At everything else we did they had the upper hand. They were bigger and stronger. Able to weld those training swords better than I. But when it came to this. No one could catch me.

I cry out in victory as I leap over a fallen log and into the clearing. Jumping up and down as I celebrate. I turn to watch the boys jump over the tree before placing their hands on their legs as they try to catch their breath.

I go to tease them about my victory, just like they would in the training grounds. But my words fall short as the ground trembles beneath me. A feeling I knew all too well. The boys eyes go wide at the sight behind me. I turn ever so slowly to see a hoard of dragons behind me. We had run so far through the first we had ended up in the clearing where the riders dragons were kept. And in the middle of them was a dragon I knew all too well. My father’s.

Unlike the boys behind me I wasn’t scared of the dragons. But coming from infantry, the boys behind me had never really been taught about dragons. They were scared.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of.” I tell them as I take in the dragons in front of us.

The dragons looked beautiful in the sunlight. Their scales glistening when the sunlight hit just the right spot. I couldn’t help but be drawn to a blue one down the back. Blue dragons had always been my favourite. But they were the most ruthless of the colour. My father teaching me to never approach one.

“If there’s nothing to be afraid of why don’t you approach them.” One of the boys behind me mocks.

“I’m not afraid. Only a fool would approach a dragon” I call back.

“Liar. You’re scared.” Another mocks, the others snickering at his comment.

I whip back towards them. “I’m not scared.” I say sternly, my hands forming into fists at my side.

“Approach them then. Your father’s a dragon rider. You should know what to do.” One of the older boys states as he walks towards me. “You want to be one of them one day. Go on then. Get some practice.”

He shoves me in the shoulder sending me stumbling backwards towards the dragons. I couldn’t deny I was a little scared. I’d only been near a dragon a handful of times. But never on my own. Always with my father watching over my brother and I.

I turn and face the dragons behind me. My father’s dragon now front and centre.

I could do this. I knew this dragon. He belonged to my father. He wouldn’t hurt me. Right?

Each step forward has ever fibre of my body telling me to run. Don’t give into peer pressure. Turn back and let them think what they want. Prove to them you aren’t afraid another one. But I don’t. I keep putting one foot in front of the other.

My father’s dragon exposes his teeth, a low growl rumbling from its throat as he watches me approach. A warning. Even he knew this was foolish.

My heart beat thunders loudly in my ears. Drowning out the world around me. Run. I need to turn around and run.

Out of the corner of my eye I see it. My head snapping to the side as the rock soars over my head. I watch it, following it as it arcs through the air, and meeting its target. Right in the middle of the dragons left eye. I watch as its tongue curls, an orange glow igniting at the back of its throat. Its mouth still angled down towards me.

I turn to run even though I know it’s futile, know that I won’t make it. But I have to try. As I turn I feel the heat behind me. Know what’s about to happen. I shut my eyes, bracing for my end. But it’s an end that never comes as I’m pushed by something. No not something. Someone.

I soar across the clearing, landing with a thud on the ground near the boys as a scream rips through the clearing. By the time I look up no one is there. Just a pile of ash on the ground. A pile of ash my father rushed towards. My twin brother not far behind. My father’s screams and pleads echoing around the clearing along with my brothers cries. I scramble up to my feet, limping over to my father and brother.

“F-father?” I stutter out, my voice shaking.

Never in my life had I seen my father that mad as his head whips towards me. Tears brimming his eyes as he sneers at me.

“T-this is your fault!” He bellows as his eyes narrow at me.

I stop in my tracks shocked at my father’s outburst. My brother also recoiling from him slightly. His eyes also brimming with tears.

“How could you be so foolish? You know better than this! She’s dead because of you!”

I look down at the pile of ash he gestures to. And that’s when it hits. Know why my father and brother look so distraught and upset. The pile of ash was my mother.

I go to rush forward, but my father’s hand whips out and shoves me backwards to the ground. The force vibrating through my body as I hit the ground.

I’d killed my mother. I shouldn't have listened. Should have stood my ground. I should have run. If I had run she would be alive.

I look up and meet my father’s eyes. His gaze pinning me to the ground. I open my mouth to apologise, but he cuts me off with words that would stick with me for the rest of my life.

“You’re no daughter of mine.”

A/N: If you want to be on the tag list for this series please comment below <3

#fourth wing fanfic #garrick tavis #garrick tavis x reader #garrick tavis imagine #garrick tavis x oc #fourth wing x reader

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threepandas · 3 months ago

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The worst part about knowing the end? Is the beginning and middle. The waiting to change. The hoping it can. Days, spent with the low fear, ever churning, that it will all make no difference. Your actions. Your plans. The hopes you have placed in Fate's fickle hands.

Entering the Creche at an awkward age, too soon to be Legend, too late to be Peer. I was destined to be an adult by the time Anikin arrived. Getting up there, by the time the Order fell. Not yet old enough to be an Elder... yet destined to never live long enough to see such an age.

Obviously, I refused.

Looked around, locked eyes on the closest most manageable Character Of Relevance and took a chance. After all, was it not? The Jedi WAY? To inconvenience the Sith at every turn? So... first Crecheling, then Initiate, then baby Padawan Me, tracked the poor man down. Hunted him for SPORT.

Meditate with me, Knight Dooku! Can you teach me about this or that, Knight Dooku? What is the correct use of seashell tongs in formal dining, when attending a formal feast with the aristocracy, during this specific religious holiday, Knight Dooku? (No, no, on the moon not the planet.)

Congratulations on you Mastery! Master Dooku!

Pushing and shoving my way into his life. Persistent, much to everyone's amusement, and his baffled chagrin. It was like befriending a fussy, regal looking, semi-feral cat. Force knows, for all his training, he's terrible at casual interactions. He was older them me, yes. And Mentor of sorts, certainly. For a time. But? We became... friendly? I like to think? I certainly chased him down enough.

He's a dramatic and awkward man, Yan, and he'd be lost without us; Sifo, Nu, and I. Occasionally Yoda, but that does come and go. Not to metion... well... his Padawans. (Damn it, Yan. They can't read the subtext from your pointed silences! Use your WORDS.) The sort of man who is... sturdy, but brittle. Like an old, unbending tree.

Which makes it all the worse, when the pressure becomes too much. Because it does not merely crack. No. No, such men? They shatter in terrible and unpredictable ways. Unbreakable right up until they are not. Unending right up until the crash.

It is...? Both tragic and hilarious, in a that way, that Yan should live surrounded by so many prophets. Yet he does not, can not, and never will see the end coming. Surrounded by legends, both old and new. Born with every marker for greatness. Yet he...? He will be considered little more then a footnote, in someone else's history. At best.

And the worst part of his Fall? The absolutely worst part? Is the Light I still feel, each time I look at him, the GOOD I know is there. Resolute and noble, dignified and full of grace. A diplomat. Expert swordsman. Makes magnificent tea. The driest wit imaginable. He... he is YAN. Not Count Dooku. Not some Sith Apprentice. Just... just Yan.

My friend.

I meditate on it a lot. The Force gives no clear answers. Still, I do try, sitting in the gardens. Tucked away several stories up, past the considerate veil of several sweeping branches. I never did succeed in figuring out which planet the tree hails from, I suspect it might be either a long dead one or some small moon. It's a truely lovely, sturdy, thing nonetheless.

Far below, younglings shriek and play growl. Running carefree, to work off energy before evening meditation. Each a tiny blaze of starlight dancing at the edge of my vision.

A bit bright, I note, but nothing concerning.

The Halls of Healing will have to increase my prescription again. My glasses are no longer blocking enough... I sigh. Considering that. My sight? Is at least partially genetic. While I may be predominantly human, just because someone looks human passing, doesnt mean they genetically are one. My ancestors were, to put it mildly, a bit... Mandalorian.

Where their was a will, there was apparently, a way; And now I pay the price for it. It's honestly a miracle they never "married", as it were, themselves into a genetic dead end. Some sort of metaphorical space mule scenario, as it were. Yet? Despite all that seeming success? Luck is not eternal. And should you keep gambling? Eventual you will roll poorly.

I was that poor hand. That unfortunate luck. Loved of course. Expected even. My parents both wanted and were delighted by me. But? I screamed. Could not bear to be near people. My inheritance? A truely unfortunate luck of the draw. When combine with Force Sensitivity? My eyes reacted to "Light" poorly. Very, VERY poorly.

They were blinding to me. A mere child with no shields to speak of, no Force training to push BACK with. Like being force to look direct at the sun, again and again. It HURT. Because I could See.

Where others saw merely flesh? I saw deeper. Not infalliblly, not perfectly, I was hardly some omniscient god, but... oh. Oh. The world was so Bright. So LUMINOUS. The Force swirling and burning and flowing. In everything, from humble to grand. People shine, and yes, it is beautiful. But it also? Hurts. Because it IS, ultimately, being forced to stare directly at bright, ever shifting, sometimes flickering LIGHT.

I have a lifelong disability. Can not FUNCTION without my filtering shade glasses.

Or, if you are one of the ignorant assholes, who even NOW still seek to use me? I have what you might call? A"gift~☆".

According to Healer Che, it was some highly recessive trait. (From a planet I honest didn't even know I had heritage on, much less could find on a navigation system.) A subterranean people, due to the truely ungodly surface conditions. VERY sensitive to energy signatures and light. Which...? When you slap on a whole NEW super special Force sensing ability? Filtered through the same brain? Wires unfortunately crossed.

It could have happened it anyone. Unfortunately, it happened to me. Now I'm effectively blind around large collections of sentients. Or Life in general, depending on the intensity. To say NOTHING of Force Nexus! Dear merciful FUCK, that was the sort of accident only you make ONCE and then NEVER again. I was lucky to keep my vision. At all. Full stop.

Sifo was not so lucky. His Visions being neither natural nor kind. The Force seizing him again and again, to plunge him into vivid scenes of carnage. Death and horrors in the home he so loved. I would would be forced to, should I fail, see the Fall of the Order once. But Sifo? Oh... oh, dear Sifo...

Sifo, had seen it fall ten thousand times.

Even Yan did listen to him. Not truely. But there is camaraderie, in the horrors. In whispering, "it's not their fault", through choking tears. Forgiving the victims that will one day kill us. There is... a certain, heavy, sort of friendship... born of pressing your foreheads together, fingers intertwined, knuckles white with terror, as you shudder in the dark.

I think it helped, helps, that he has someone, who believes him. Anyone. Not just humoring him, the mad man sprouting prophecies of doom. But truely believes him. Knows he is right. And that if nothing is done? Everyone will die.

But... BUT! It CAN NOT, be Kamino, Sifo. Not that, never that.

In the dark, I remind him of prophets, seeking to avoid their visions, and instead? Ensuring the worst, comes to pass. Defense, Sifo. Escape. We are JEDI. Do not let fear blind you, to who you ARE. Do not let it take down a path of darkness.

I wrap him in the Light. Tuck my Force presence close, like I'm hiding him again my side, a youngling tucked into the safety of my robe. Shhhh, my friend. It is okay to be afraid. I am too. We can do this together. We are not alone. I believe you.

We are the pillars of his mental health, Yan and I. It concerns the healers greatly. The council. Honestly? It concerns me. But what can I do? No one else CAN help Sifo, until the first take the step of recognizing he is not, in fact, insane. He is a perfectly SANE man, reacting in entirely reasonable ways, to unspeakable Nexus born horrors. Slowly cracking under the isolation and grief. A jedi pushed and pushed, far past the point lesser men would have broken.

And if? He need a woman young enough to be his one of his student's, to rely on? So be it. I am a Knight now, I can handle it. (I have been handling it, since the incident. Since I was a Crecheling. Where the fuck were all of YOU? Ah, that's right. Calling him insane. Making things WORSE.)

I breathe out slow and controlled. My meditation is getting me no where. Rising, I carefully hop down, using the Force to slow my fall, much to the awe of various Crechelings. I can not help but smile. Was I ever that small? So easily impressed? I bow to my tiny fellow jedi. Delighted, they scramble to bow back. Thrilled to show off how grown up and serious they are, how well down they can do it.

Reaching out with my senses, I look for Yan, politely avoiding doing more then the briefest brush as I reach past others. I am not the first, nor will I be the last. There are hundreds of such searches a day. Some clumsy and heavy handed, from Crechelings or Initiates. Some soft as brushing strands of silk. Knights or Masters, looking for friends, looking for students where the should not be.

The Temple feels alive, noisy even, when you know how to feel it.

Ah, there he is! Heading from the High Council's cha-Grief. Horror. A gutting pain that numbs and spreads.

Caught off gaurd, I am sent reeling. Stumbling, without grace, over my own feet into a nearby wall. Glad for it, as I desperately grab at my chest and wheeze, drawing the alarmed attention of nearby Knights and Guards. Because... because, the other direction? Had I stumbled in the other direction, I would have hit the railing. Fully doubt I... I would have been able t-too.... oh Force-!

It takes entirely too long to seperate my emotions from Yan's. To realize what's happening. My panic feeding into the pain. My pain feeding into the panic. Yan. S-Something happened to Yan! I manage to gasp it out. P-please! S.. Someone! Go! Go check on Master Dooku!

The world spins as I try to force air into my body. It refuses to come. Whatever horrible pain Yan is in, leeching down our connection. Into me. Hurting. Made so, SO much worse, by my having been actively looking for him. I close my eyes, teeth gritting, and trying to stop digging my nails into skin. I-It won't help. There's nothing physically there.

But it hurts! God, does it HURT!

It feels like my WORLD has been shredded. My heart, crushed, cruel and slow in my chest. H-he's having a panic attack. Has to be! Or-! Or being attacked! I d-don't... don't KNOW!

A passing Master has hurried over, now kneels next to me. Various Knights pushing whatever calm and safety the can at me. No one is quite certain what will help. But they try. Desperately, stubbornly, resolute to the last... they TRY.

Breathe with me, begs the Master. Pressing my hand to his chest. Just copy my breathing. Help is coming. Release what pain you can, into the Force. We will help you. Let us help you.

I try.

Desperately, I Try.

The Healers end up having to give us sedatives, Yan and I. Sifo ends up... worse. The entire event triggering another, nasty, round of visions. He is incoherent. Trapped. Staring up at the Death Star from the surface of Alderaan, through countless eyes, begging to be heard. His soul, small and desperate, replaying the end, over and over. Even as he tries to protect what souls he can from the inevitable.

He cries for this too. They won't believe him, I know. Even as he thrashs and begs. For the lives of the innocent to be spared, for monsters to hold their fire. I will though. I will. I always do.

But Sifo will be lost for days. Yan, however? As he sits, on the bed, just the other side me? Sits stiff and properly. Blankly. As the healers words wash over him. I doubt a single on has registered. Of the three of us, I am the only one even remotely functioning. Yet... yet I still, don't know what has happened.

Nodding one last time to the healer assigned to me. Promising that yes, I will most certainly rest. I slip my my bed and sweep over to stand next to Yan's. The Healer's concerned and frustrated. He knows Yan's not listening. But has to try. I shoot him a strained, closed lipped, smile. Quietly take charge of my unresponsive friend.

The Healers relief is palpable. Our notes and instructions are not terribly dissimilar. Rest, food, no missions or upsets. Got it.

Gently, I guide Yan from the Healing Halls. Alarmed, that he let's himself be led. He never let's himself be led like this. Insists he is no invalid, to be coddled. Yet... here he is. Mind a thousand parsecs away.

Bringing him to his rooms, I key in his code then gently guide him to his favorite chair. Lightly guide him down into it. Not... not once, during the entire walk back, has he responded to anything. I am beginning to grow afraid.

Fussing, I drag up that terribly pretentious Serranian musician, on his music system. The one I can't stand. I am worried. Sacrifices must be made. Boring and insipid music fills the room. Very fancy! Come on, Yan. This is his new piece! Don't you want to comment on it? Come, tell me why it's so much better then the racket youngling blast these days. I'll call you an old man...

Nothing.

Worry growing, I begin making his favorite tea. Digging out his special occasion snacks. Something, anything, to get a reaction. As things brew, a sound too wounded to truly be a laugh, chokes it's way out of him.

"Xana-...My..." he starts. Stops. Normally sharp mind refusing to obey him, as he tries to summon words. He looks lost.

"My Grand-Padawan is dead." His voice is brittle, alien sounding in his mouth. I nearly drop the plate of snacks I was carrying over, in response. Horrified. "He was supposed be returning a knight. Qui-gon was.. was so proud of him. Adored him. This has destroyed him. Will destroy all of us. I... I have lost everything."

No. No, you have NOT.

Striding forward and all but dumping the plate on the side table next to him, I reach for my friend with both hands. With my Force presence. I refuse. No, damn it! I Will NOT lose him. Not like this, not TOO this!

Listen. LISTEN to me, Yan Dooku. So help me Stars, Gods both big and small, you will not succumb to this!

The greatest lie the Dark has ever told, is that it will make things better. That it can help you with your pain. Would Xanatos want his death to destroy you? Would the child of your child, want his legacy to be the ruin of everyone he loved? It is okay to grieve. You NEED to grieve. But remember you Padawans. Remember their Padawans.

Your Lineage still lives, Yan Dooku.

It is hurting, mourning, but ALIVE. Don't you dare run from it in your grief. You are better then that. I am here. Sifo and Nu are here. Yoda, is here. We will carry this pain together, okay?

Closing his eyes, he let his head rest more heavily against my hands. Dampness darkened his eyelashes, but no true tears formed or fell. He didn't seem to have it in him. Not yet. His hands though... his hands? Shook as they slowly, haltingly, like a droid with seizing joints, reached out for me.

I moved from leaning over him to sitting on the arm rest of his fancy Serranian high backed chair. That he didn't even grumble over me "abusing his furniture" by putting weight on the arm rest like this? Gods.

Leaning into him, I wrapped my arms around his head and shoulders. Like a shield against the universe. Used the Force to pull the tea, finally done, and pour it into a nice cup. Properly of course. See, Yan? I remember your lectures. Here, drink.

He... did not.

Just leaned, sagged against me, as he shuddered with grief. Hands wrapped around a cup of fragrant tea. Music filling the air. Tucked safe inside my Force presence, as best I could.

In... Out... In... Out... There was a slight stutter to it, a hitch, that in a less controlled man? Might have broken into a sob. But... instead, Yan meditated. That first cup going to waste. The second following, as it slowly went cold. Needs must, though, and tea? Can be replaced. Yan can not.

Emptying wasted cups, I poured more. Rested my head atop his own. Matched his breathing as I slipped into a light meditation with him. The room was quite enough. The position not terribly comfortable. But honestly? We'd both meditated under worse conditions, and it had been... A DAY.

To put it mildly.

I didn't like the look of Yan's Force Presence. It was like a fault line had been struck. Spreading terrible spiderwebbing cracks in otherwise sturdy stone. I was no mind healer... really, not a healer at all, I was a Seeker, but? I had learned a few tricks. After all, not every child I had found? Was found in a safe and loving home. Most weren't, honestly.

You learned to soothe, as a Seeker. Learn how to help. Children, after all, don't know Light from Dark. They just know that if they reach for the magic in their head? Bad things go away and good things tend to happen. Sometimes they hurt themselves by accident. Sometimes they hurt themselves... because the alternative was worse.

"You know, my dear? Some days I think you are the only Jedi with any compassion left. The boy never should have been sent there. Not for his trials. The lives of others are not a child's test. And to be asked to face one's own family? It... it was cruel."

Yan sent his cup around me, to rest on the side table, before gently tugging me down into his lap. He hugged me close, like a child squeezing a stuffed animal for comfort, face buried in the crook between my shoulder and neck. Like he was hiding from the world. I rest my head against his shoulder, eyes closed.

We were both... so tired, weren't we. This was nice.

"When did it all become about proving ones purity? One's superiority of morals? We are supposed to help people. Not lord over them. If I wished to do THAT, I would merely need to return to Serrano. Become a Count. You and Sifo are the only one who seem to understand me."

"I think I would go mad, without you."

Yes. I worry that you would, Yan. I worry that you would.

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