#i discovered them a week ago and have not recovered

[scripted-downfall]

I made the mistake of thinking about The Implications and... If we take as fact that Pokey is having fun with his toys throughout all of TGWDLM by using their Infected!selves to reenact a story that already happened (since Emma is shown singing in the intro song but got infected after Paul/the conclusion of the musical), that implies that Ted is once again trapped in a loop of watching the woman he clearly cares about dying, which just kinda hurts a little so I'm cursing y'all with it

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲 || 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one: valley of the dolls || part two: here

summary_ where coriolanus snow wants to win you again after recovering from Dr. Gaul’s experiments, but ends up threatening you to marry him or he’ll reveal your darkest secret, just because you were his.

warnings_ NO PROOFREAD, dubcon, oral (f receiving), dark!coriolanus, angst, fluff (well…), drama

notes_happy halloween, listen to my Coriolanus’ playlist, it’s so bad I promise you’ll hate it.

♪ ♫ Coryo playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)

Reflections were a light of truth. Whether you liked it or not. There are no more tears to shed, you think you’ve run out of them.

“You need to put down that mirror…” your father said.

He had grown a little colder after ascending to work closely with the government. Burt you know you’ll always be his little girl. Just like you would always love him.

“I can’t stop. My skin itches, I feel like I’m burning…” you reply, looking. At yourself.

Your skin was literally shredding. As if liquid glue had been poured all over your body. Now was dry, peeling itself off. The worst parts were in your face, ribs, and thighs.

“You have visits…” your eyes almost pop out.

“What?”

“Just Clemensia…”

“I thought I said no visits until I was allowed to leave the hospital.”

“I don’t think she’ll judge you, y/n”

It was true. You were horrified when Clemensia appeared full of neon scaled and yellow eyes to wake you up and Coriolanus at the hospital.

“Fine. Let her come in…” your father nodded, kissing your forehead before leaving.

You went to look at your reflection a little more. The dry peeling skin was turning dark, creating an odd contrast with your new rosy layer.

The sound of the door made you startled, but when you turned, you spotted Clemensia already inside.

She inspects your face once she’s inches away from you. She even touches your skin.

“You look great. I’d give it a couple of days. Amazing…” You can’t resist but embrace her, which she accepts.

“It’s been two months and everyone keeps talking about you. I suspected the reason, so I patiently waited” she says, taking a seat beside you in the hospital bed. You half laugh, putting away the mirror.

“How are you?

“Good? Not? I don’t know. I don’t even know what happened” you reply.

“I guess if I was close to turning into a giant python, you were very close to turning into a mermaid” You find the humor in her words, so you laugh with her.

What was left to do either way? You thought.

“When I woke up, I had fish scales and I couldn’t stop drinking water…” Clemensia nodded. She was almost clear from the scales. Her eyes were normal again. She looked good.

“Just like I couldn’t stop my tongue from making odd sounds and movements…”

Both of you remain quiet for a little while. Until Clemensia opens her mouth and then shuts it, debating whether to speak up or not.

You already know what she’s wondering.

“Say it, Clemmie.” She sighs, surrendering to her curiosity.

“What happened with Coriolanus?…”

“He exposed me for suggesting he cheat in the games. He didn’t tell me anything the last time I saw him. It was in the Citadel, he was coming out from Dr. Gaul’s office and I was about to come in...”

You scratch your own hands for comfort. Clinging to confidence to disguise your anxiety.

“Coriolanus would never hurt you…”

“Oh Clemmie, I haven’t seen him in two months but I’m pretty sure the schoolboy we knew is completely gone. When I entered that lab, I was forced to lay in a bed and wait for hundreds of needles to attack me. And the moment I opened my eyes was a week ago…” your friend looks at you with pity, but you can’t feel bad for that.

“My mother brought me the news. Coriolanus left to the districts, he was exiled and paid to go and follow his songbird to the most filthy district.”

“Maybe he got scared. Perhaps he didn’t know Gaul was going to punish you…”

“He discovered I was sick because he called home a month after he left. A month, Clemmie. Neither one of the Snows worried for me. When I considered part of my family.” tears prick in your eyes but you can’t cry.

“He said I was important, he kissed me when he won the games. Dear lord, we promised to split the prize if one of us won. I love Coriolanus Snow, he was my best friend. I kissed him again and told him I’d see him at home the last time I saw him… All for nothing.”

Clemensia holds you tightly once again, this time brushing your dry and unhealthy hair.

“It’s going to be okay, y/n. You didn’t do anything wrong, you can rest knowing you are a good and decent person” You nod, swallowing the resentment towards that man.

“While I prepare to come back, Clemmie… Please start destroying him for me.” She smiles, caressing your hand.

“A man who chooses district over his capitol family is a coward”

…

Rumors were spread faster than disease in the Middle Ages. Coriolanus Snow was a renowned man. He let the rumors run like water. He followed Lucy Gray Baird to the districts for love. Didn’t work out, the girl was accused of murder and ran away, leaving him.

Everyone knew Coriolanus Snow had broken your heart. And that you remained confined in a hospital room. Infectious virus was the alleged reason.

When he received a call from Dr.Gaul, he internally cheered. She kept her promise of moving you to a hospital, and finally, your parents could see you. Coriolanus would be lying if he said he didn’t care about you anymore.

In fact, returning to the Capitol reminded him how lonely he actually was. Even worse when he learned Festus, Lysistrata, Clemensia and

were giving him the cold shoulder for abandoning you. Apparently, the girl he considered one of his closest friends visited you at the hospital and you spilled your side of the story. Coriolanus couldn’t blame you. He wasn’t expecting anything from you yet.

Trying to find a reason to keep his mind occupied other than attending university was to wisely make the first spend with the Plinth’s fortune. Coriolanus decided to refurbish the penthouse. And when he tried to offer a hand to your parents to do the same, he was shocked to learn it wasn’t necessary anymore.

It was a long night of talking. Your father had ascended to position quickly and now worked as part of President Ravinstill’s cabinet. Your mother had opened her own atelier in the Capitol’s downtown. When he was allowed to visit your room, Coriolanus noticed the wallpapers that looked faded and peeling now looked fresh. Your feathers lamp was long gone. It was replaced with an exotic flower look alike chandelier.

But his picture remained in your family pictures in your new bookshelves. And that’s when the guilt sank in.

The need to be okay with you grew. He remembered having an ally.

When he asked for you, your father revealed with sad but hopeful eyes that your skin was peeling, that your only cold showers felt good, but that you smiled for them.

Coriolanus got chills at the memory of you in that water tank. He supposed your process was similar to Clemensia and the snake bite.

As a man as well, your father didn’t completely blame him for growing confused about you and Lucy Gray.

He was urged to make amends with you. Tigris said it, grandma’am too. Clemensia and your parents said it too.

So he would.

…

Fixing your gloves, you look out your window. The Corso looked even more luxurious and elegant with the pink morning sky. But soon your eyes betray you, landing in your pictures. You immediately grab Coriolanus’ portrait, ready to take the paper stuck under the glass and tear it. But you don’t, you only put the picture looking down.

His memory kept haunting you. After all, he was still your neighbor.

You learned after a few more visits from Clemensia that Sejanus was dead. You sobbed so much. Sejanus was a good friend and his need to be something else killed him. Actually, Coriolanus killed him but you would never know that.

Only that his death led to the Plinths making Coriolanus their heir. That he was studying bureaucratic law and having private lessons with Dr. Gaul.

Traitor, traitor, traitor. He was even accepting classes from the woman who almost killed you.

In social matters, Coriolanus was courting Livia Cardew and you actually laughed.

Your best friend was truly gone. But you were back and you didn’t want to be overcome by the pain he put you through.

You were more than a curated girl with a broken heart that appeared in the newspapers. You were the daughter of a successful man and the daughter of the most famous designer of the capital.

And you weren’t going to start your comeback with the wrong foot.

Dr. Gaul probably wasn’t expecting to release an experiment only to return to a human body with regenerated DNA. The dry skin was replaced by a shiny and healthy new layer. Your hair grew again, longer than ever and you felt healthy overall.

The moment you stepped out of the trolley station, you slowly started to feel some heads turn your way.

The click of your heels soothed you as you made your way through the long marble stairs of the Capitol’s University. The feeling of unwanted attention grew when you went to the main office to pick up your schedule.

The secretary handed you the paper and as you read through it, someone tapped on your shoulder. You turned and it was a surprise to encounter one friend.

“Festus!…” you hug him, immediately feeling happy to see him.

“I heard you were back. Lysistrata and I split to find you. I guess I won…” he said, making you chuckle.

“You look great”

“You too. We’ve heard the craziest rumors about you and we literally spent the whole summer wondering what had actually happened” you sigh.

You wanted everyone to know what happened to you. That Gaul was a monster. That Coriolanus was a traitor. But it wasn’t the most viable. But he was your friend, you could trust him.

“What did Clemensia tell you?” You asked him, walking out of the office, and starting your way through the long halls.

“Not much. Only that Coriolanus was the biggest idiot,” he admitted.

And hearing that name out loud puts you on alert. He could appear anytime soon. And to be honest you weren’t prepared to encounter him. But you were confident that ignoring his existence would be easy.

“Well, Festus, let’s find her and Lysistrata. We have a lot to talk about…”

…

By the end of the day, everyone has your name on their lips. You spot Livia gossiping with Persephone, Iphigenia, Urban, and Androcles, the little bunch of the Academy that always made fun of you and Coriolanus for being so close.

You can’t help but remember that Coriolanus had started some sort of courtship with the mean blonde. You guess it’s because they turned out to be pretty much alike.

Overall, it hadn’t been as bad as you thought it was going to be. The hope of becoming a senator one day was still strong as the first day of classes for you turned out to be good.

You clench the zipper of your bag that hangs on your shoulder, ready to leave campus and call it a day.

It was particularly empty a few hours before the night, but there were a few still walking around. Your breathing had found a peaceful pace to follow until your eyes localized the nearest exit.

Entering there was a man, whose curls had disappeared into perfectly slicked hair, whose suit seemed to be impeccable and luxurious, whose bright loving eyes had turned into cold oceans, and whose warm smile had transformed into a frivolous expression.

Coriolanus Snow entered the hall, he hadn’t seen you, but you knew he would.

And you could have turned and walked all over campus to find another exit. But you wouldn’t.

Not when there are people already connecting dots with your presence and his in the same place.

With a big sigh, you focused your eyes on the door, in the falling sky that was preparing a sunset. You wouldn’t meet any face in the place just to avoid him. And as much as you tried to ignore the shivers, you could feel your hands shaking.

He saw you when he had you close enough to notice your red eyeshadow. He had already mastered the technique of hiding his feelings and expressions. But seeing you had erased any trace of practice. He let an inaudible gasp and almost stopped walking.

You looked very healthy in comparison to what he had heard. The scales he had seen were completely gone. Your eyes sparkled naturally and your hair looked very peculiar.

But any hope of interacting with you died the moment you passed by his side. Almost brushing your shoulders and you ignored him completely.

You had humiliated him. So he turned and started walking behind you. And the farther you moved, the more his anxiety started growing. He hadn’t even noticed he had followed you to the trolley station.

You heard him calling your name. But you ignored him. Your body relaxed as soon as the doors closed and the university disappeared from your sight.

Tears formed in your eyes, and you had to shut your eyes so harshly to avoid them from spilling.

…

It had turned into a cat-and-mouse game. You were almost running towards your apartment. Coriolanus knew your parents were working, so he had no problem chasing you to the door of your home.

“You won’t be able to run away every time, y/n… We need to talk” he said, knowing you could hear him through the other side of the door.

“I don’t want to talk with you” you replied, taking off your scarf and heels. Ignoring the way your heart still lounged for him it decreased its beats whenever you saw him talking with Livia on campus.

“You’re gonna listen to me one of these days”

“Go home, Coriolanus. Live your life and forget about me” he felt the pain in your words. And for some reason, it also hurt him.

“I can’t…” he whispered, hearing your footsteps walking away from the door.

With his obsessive nature flowing through him, he opened the door of the penthouse and was greeted by Tigris.

“Did you talk with her?” Coriolanus shook his head, and Tigris sighed.

“The other day I saw her at the market and she was so cold. I felt so sad when she said we acted like we didn’t care for her…” Coriolanus sighed at her words.

He wasn’t expecting you to encounter him with a big kiss like the one you gave him the last time he saw you. But he was getting impatient. He quickly understood that you weren’t jealous of Livia and if you actually were, you were brilliant at hiding it.

He learned that you were extremely hurt by him and his family. And he had to accept it was indeed his fault. You were the only reason he actually regretted things and wanted to say sorry.

He missed his best friend. Without you, he realized he was slowly becoming his father.

…

Of course, your mother would invite the Snows for dinner.

“Why would you do that?” You ask, polishing each fork and knife on the table, already feeling angry.

“I just want you and Coriolanus to be friends again, y/n. He’s such a good boy and he’s growing into a fine man…” you frown, leaning over a chair, facing your mother.

“He chose a filthy bohemian singer from the districts over me. That says everything about Coriolanus, mother…”

The woman also stops polishing the table utensils to look at you.

“He was just a kid, like you. We were struggling and he wanted power just like we all want… Focus on the man he is turning into, not the boy he was…” she says leaving.

“That’s exactly the problem…” you whisper.

You didn’t like the man he was turning into.

But you have to swallow your thoughts as soon as you hear voices from other than your parents. You sigh, knowing he has arrived. And it wasn’t like you wanted to impress him, but you wanted to show him that you were doing fine without him, that he hadn’t broken your heart, and that you didn’t care about him like you used to.

Coriolanus had just given your mother a hug when he saw you entering the room. To his eyes, you looked perfectly pretty.

You had an emerald dress with black tights and heels, your hair in an elegant bun, and some curls peeking over across your face. But your face was so serious. You barely glanced at him and Tigris when you greeted them. You only blink when Tigris mentions the Grandma’am was sick and couldn’t be at the dinner. Everyone noticed your awkward demeanor and your mother tried to break the ice.

“Coriolanus! Why don’t you and y/n go to check the oven?” You don’t oppose, you simply nod and leave without waiting for him to follow. But you can look over the corner of your eye at the fabric of his suit, dark grey, and his usual white rose on top of his heart. You couldn’t help but miss his curls, even when his new haircut made him mature and older.

Coriolanus saw you put on some kitchen gloves and he hurried to help.

“Let me check it…”

“I can do it myself, thanks” you reply coldly.

“Are you ever going to talk to me like a decent human?”

“Oh, I’m decent, very much compared to you. I need time, I have to put my thoughts in order” You were being honest.

“I won’t be waiting forever” he didn’t mean to sound so harsh but that’s the way he ended up sounding.

“Then you don’t really care about my forgiveness” he is about to protest, but you have moved away and taken out a giant turkey that must’ve been heavy enough to draw a sigh out of you. The whole interaction made him feel like an idiot. So he went to your side again.

“I miss you” he reveals, cringing at the sound of him being so vulnerable.

“You shouldn’t, you’re courting Livia Cardew”

“That’s not what it seems”

“I really don’t care, Coriolanus” you lied.

You start serving good portions and he has to start putting them on the table. He can hear your parents laughing with Tigris and he wishes everything was fine. Just like it was a couple of months ago. He really could see himself joking along with you, kissing you while you served the dinner, and being happy. Unfortunately, that’s not the case.

“For now, the only I want you to know is that it was never my intention to hurt you. If I could’ve avoided all the pain, I would’ve, y/n” you harshly crash the knife against one of the porcelain plates, closing your eyes to calm your sudden anger.

“If you hadn’t mentioned my name to Gaul, if you hadn’t kissed me the day you won the games if you had called the day you left the Capitol, you would’ve avoided a lot of my pain. But you didn’t… Because you care more about yourself than for the two of us as equals, Snow”

He unconsciously unlocked many unpleasant memories. So many things you would never know. But when he got onto something, he didn’t stop until he could feel like a winner.

“I won’t let go of the person that was there for me when I had nothing. No matter what it takes…” you eyed him, overcoming your fear watching him at the eye and you fulminate him, with a look of defiance that he also senses.

Coriolanus lets you pass by him and he watches you disappear into the dining table.

A couple of hours later, your father has taken away Coriolanus to drink in his office. Coriolanus is amazed by all the things the old man has achieved. He admired and respected your father. So he didn’t take too long to notice your father was drunk. He has started telling him what happened when his grandfather lived in District 1 and he visited him.

“Then our baby was born there. That house must be ashes from the war but every time I look at it in pictures, it makes me feel like it’s still there…” Coriolanus almost dropped his glass.

“So y/n was born in District 1?” Your father nods, finishing a second bottle of posca. Coriolanus had never liked to drink and he took it as an advantage most of the time.

“Let me find the birth certificate…” you father said.

To Coriolanus, this was shocking. When your father took out an envelope, he handed him the certificate. You had two names and two last names. Born a later winter baby and with a tiny imprint of your feet. His fingers traced your name.

“This is probably our biggest secret, Coriolanus. But you’re family, we trust you, boy” said your father patting his shoulder.

Coriolanus smiled, tracing your second name once again. Then turned to see you talking with Tigris outside.

Things kept getting in his favor since we came back to the Capitol.

You felt his eyes but you ignored him, focusing on an uncomfortable Tigris that wanted to talk to you.

“Me and Grandma’am asked for you a couple of days after Coryo left. That’s when we learned you were sick. I swear we asked every week, but your parents got very busy and we barely saw them. Then we had to move out because of the rent payments. It was hard…”

You analyze her burgundy lipstick and you know she’s telling the truth.

“Do you know the asshole your cousin was?” She nods.

“I do. He saw you when Dr. Gaul had you in her laboratory. Coryo was scared, he looked shocked and he knew you wouldn’t forgive him. But I told him to be a man and apologize”

“I miss the boy he was… I miss my best friend” you admit, biting your tongue because you should’ve kept that to yourself.

“I’m afraid the districts changed him… he reminds me of…”

“His father” you finish for her.

Sadly, she nods to you.

“Grandma’am keeps asking Coryo when will you be back. He always tells her he’s trying to win you back” She changes the subject, attempting to make you smile.

But you only reply with a little chuckle and a sad smile.

…

For the next two weeks, you have been drained from any sense of certainty. You have Coriolanus Snow waiting at your door every morning, insisting to walk you to university because he knew you hated having chauffeurs, the Capitol wasn’t big enough to depend on a vehicle. It was a walkable city and you loved taking the trolley. So he had been punctual and he had walked you every single day.

You barely talked and he hated that. Until two days ago when Coriolanus made you smile. He noticed you tried to hide it but it had been late. Your smile filled him with pride and he got even more obsessed with winning you back.

The luck hadn’t run out of him, because that afternoon your mother knocked on his door to invite him and his family to the release party of her new winter collection.

The invitation made Tigris extremely happy and Coriolanus knew it was a great chance to get close to you.

But you had other plans. You took your mother’s party as a distraction from him. At the atelier, you spent the following days previous to the party. Lysistrata and Clemensia wanted a dress from your mother’s hands and you had no problem with having your friends there.

Three glasses of champagne rested on the center table, you were in underwear, waiting for one of the sewers to take measurements of your body.

“I still don’t know why you want to wear light pink. It’s a boring color, y/n” Clemmie said. You giggled, and as soon as you were free to move, you slipped on a black nightgown, hurrying to grab the design you and your mother had come up with nights ago.

“Because of this… is a reformed copy of my grandmother’s dress” Both of your friends analyzed the paper and ended up nodding.

“It’s very pretty” Lysistrata replied.

Clemensia wanted a bodycon dress in silver and Lysistrata wanted a blue maxi dress. The theme of the party was flower masquerade. The winter collection was all about silver, pastel pink, burgundy, and grey.

“Hey, yesterday in the session I had of psychology, Persephone and Urban were gossiping about Livia and Coriolanus. Apparently, he called it quits with her after you returned. They only had like two dates but it wasn’t working out either way”

“In what world would Livia Cardew and Coriolanus Snow get along so well to have dates?” Your friends laugh, but you are slightly nervous about the subject.

“Everyone is so invested in you two, though. It was already a matter of gossip back in the Academy. Now that we are basically… adults? It’s more notorious” you eye Lysistrata, realizing you probably were more popular than you thought you were.

“I can’t forgive him. I can only see a selfish man. Not my boy, the one I fell in love with…” you confess.

Clemensia and Lysistrata look at each other, unsure about what they should say to you.

“You could meet the new man he is, perhaps he’s not as bad as you think,” Lysistrata says.

“But stay alert. And don’t give in so easily….” You know Clemensia is right.

And you’re still unsure about even considering giving Coriolanus another chance.

Someone knocked on the door and it was an avox, he handed you a bouquet that you took confused. It had a note.

[ I hope we can match for the party] Of course it had to be from him.

“Speaking of the devil…’

“He sent you flowers?” Clemmie asked and you nodded.

You call the avox and hand him the note. On the blank side, you wrote “I don’t think you’re wearing a light pink suit”.

“Let’s focus on the dresses…” they both nod at you.

…

It surely was one of the most beautiful parties you had attended ever. The party was letting every attendee that your family had won enough power to host something so luxurious. The saloon was full of flowers, some even scattered in the giant chandeliers that hung in the high ceilings. The avoxes all had the same black mask and were serving rounds after rounds of fine alcohol.

Your friends got a table near the stairs, they were laughing and having a good time. You stood up to get a sweet treat since you hadn’t eaten since midday. There was this guy that tagged along and he turned out to be very funny. He was getting along Lysistrata and you liked the sight.

But in the eyes of a certain blonde, who had just arrived, it set him on fire from jealousy. Coriolanus wasn’t trying to get you back in vane. He got mad after seeing you laugh with that guy. He got tired of waiting.

His evil grin grows when he overhears Clemensia and Festus saying you had confessed you still loved him but you couldn’t forgive him. That made him relax a little, so he put on his best smile and approached you at the food table.

There were cookies, pastries, and a vast variety of cakes.

You could hear many people praising your mother’s designs. As you started chewing a lavender and lemon pastry, you felt a hand on your lower back.

“Congratulations to your mother” You turned to encounter Coriolanus. He had a black suit with barely visible thin grey stripes and his signature rose, in a light pink shade that perfectly matched your dress. His mask was black as well and his look, in general, reminded you of his last-minute outfit from the day of the reaping. You felt a pang in your heart because you could see a glimpse of the boy he was at that masquerade.

“You are not going to speak?” He asked.

“I was chewing…” you said, looking away from him.

“Indeed” With his index finger, he cleaned your lips from the cream of the pastry, which took you by surprise.

“We need to talk.”

“Now it’s not the best time, Coriolanus”

“I’m pretty sure it can’t wait. I wouldn’t suit you, especially on a day like this” his words confused you and for some reason it made you feel nervous.

“Why are you saying it like that?”

“Like what, dear?” At the sound of his tone, you knew it wasn’t very good.

“Let’s go upstairs when the runway begins,” you said coldly.

The minutes pass flying and when the lights turn off and people gather to look at the fashion show, you and Coriolanus disappear upstairs.

There are plenty of rooms. Most of them are looked but you find one that’s open. It’s a restroom. It has low lights and a lot of mirrors as well as statues and paintings. In the center, there’s a velvet couch that you take to sit on.

You look at Coriolanus expectantly and he only eyes you deeply with his blue eyes.

“Would you marry me?” You frown, shock flooding you, but remain seated, gripping the cushion of the couch harshly.

“What?”

“If I told you I know you were born in the districts. Would you marry me?” You stand up furiously.

“DON’T YOU DARE, CORIOLANUS!” You yell, knowing nobody can hear you.

He grins and walks closing the distance between you two. You step backwards until he gently pushes you so you end up seated again.

“I told you I would get tired of waiting” Your eyes get teary.

“No, don’t cry, baby. I will treat you so right. I will make you a fine First Lady one day…” he whispers, caressing your face.

“Why are you so cruel?”

“I just want you to love me again”

“I did love you, Coriolanus. But it wasn’t enough for you” you retort with anger in your eyes. He smiled, an evil smile that made you mad, he gripped your chin so you couldn’t move away from him.

“I was a boy who didn’t know what it had. Now I’m not risking losing you again” You tried to stand up but he forced you to stay still. And then he kissed you.

His lips invaded yours. You couldn’t reciprocate, you wanted to run away and never come back. But he had other plans, he pinned your hands over your stomach and pushed you to lay on the couch.

When his knee had separated your legs, you opened your eyes in panic.

“Coriolanus, What are you doing?” He didn’t reply.

With one hand he bunched your dress over your lap and his lips started trailing kissing all over your knees to your inner thighs, you gasped and tried to close your legs.

“You can’t lie to my face that you don’t love me anymore. But I know you do. And your body can’t disguise it” he traced a finger over your underwear, the pink fabric denoting a darker spot that revealed your aching for his touch.

“Stop it” you demanded him. Coriolanus only chuckled.

“Who’s gonna understand you like I do? You can’t trust anyone but me, y/n” he said before moving your underwear aside and trailing your insides with his tongue.

You had to muffle a moan because you couldn’t give him the satisfaction, but that didn’t last long.

He had no experience because you knew he had never touched a woman. But he was a fast learner. Because he started making you feel so good. Coriolanus wanted to hear you moan his name, but he couldn't wait. He knew he was doing a good job because, at some point, you lifted one leg, your heel brushing his hip.

“I will never love you again,” you say between moans.

Coriolanus smirks.

“You already do. Just like me…”

You open your eyes and you turn to look at the mirrors. Coriolanus was under your dress and you were putting so much pressure on your stomach, trying to not lift your hips. You were so guilty. For giving into him. Because you still loved him and you secretly hoped he would be the man you wanted him to be.

_________________________________

Then the wedding, a trip to the districts, spooky encounter and finally love in part 3 or not?

Taglist: @sweet-n-serene @qoopeeya @ietss @commanderfreethatdust @starryyyshinomya44

[ddejavvu]

Love to Lie - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader (Part 1) / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 (Final Part)

Summary: Your worst fear is recognized when Bradley’s jet goes down with him in it. You’re not sure why you’re still his emergency contact, you’d broken up two weeks ago, but when you rush into the hospital room, you discover that you have a chance to fix the mistake you’d been cursing yourself for. The only problem is, you have to lie to Bradley, and you discover that you love doing it if it means you get to be with him again.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, Mitchell!reader, angst, angst with a fluffy/happy ending, amnesia trope, hospitals and their subsequent medical details, memory loss, goose and carole are still alive because i say so

WC: 11.3K / navigation / inbox

A/N: thank you to everyone who has encouraged me in my development of this series! it's three parts long, and each part will be posted one week after the one before it. that means you get chapter 2 next week, and chapter 3 two weeks from now. and after chapter 3 is released, i will post the full fic in one single post, so that it's easier to read. this series means a lot to me, it's the longest fic I've ever finished for this account, and I would really love to hear what you think of it. Thank you to the love of my life miss jade (@luveline), for being the first person to read this (!!), and for all of your wonderful feedback that cheered me on as I crossed the finish line for this series. I don't think I would have finished it if it wouldn't have been for your support, so thank you sweetpea <3

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

It’s 11:14 AM when you get the call. Your phone buzzes ballistically beneath your pillow, where you’d stuffed it haphazardly last night somewhere close to 4 AM. For the record, you’d only slept because your eyes hurt from being open for so long. You’re certain that, after what you’d done, you deserved to ache for eternity, but you’d succumbed to sleep when it pulled hard enough at you.

Raising the phone to your ear is a chore, especially because the number on the screen is unrecognizable, but you stretch your tired, bed-ridden limbs and hold the cool glass screen to your face. It’s jarring, and you long for the stuffy warmth of the pillow again.

“Hello?”

“Miss Y/N Mitchell?” It’s a man’s voice, deep and strong through the receiver. It’s no-nonsense, and you almost worry that you’ve misfiled your taxes, that someone from the IRS is tracking you down.

“That’s me,” You rub sleep out of your left eye, harder than necessary so that your vision is blurry when you open your eye again. You’re not very gentle with yourself these days.

“You’re listed as an emergency contact for Mr. Bradley Bradshaw. He’s currently a patient at the Naval Medical Center in San Diego. He was brought in at 9:37 AM this morning when his jet malfunctioned mid-exercise, and he crashed into a canyon below.”

Your heart stops. 

Your cheeks get hot, your hands start to tingle, and your stomach feels like it’s going to start turning cartwheels, sloshing your insides around until you vomit what little you’ve eaten.

Bradley’s dead, you think, Bradley’s dead, Bradley’s dead, Bradley’s dead.

“We were able to airlift him out, and he’s stabilized now-” Bradley’s not dead,  “-but he’s still unconscious. His parents are here, as well as your father, if you’d like to join them.”

It takes a long time for you to speak. It’s almost a full minute, and the man on the other end has to call your name to get you to respond.

“Miss Mitchell?”

“I’ll be there,” You blurt, heaving a shaky breath as you seal a hand over your mouth. You part your fingers only to make sure he hears you clearly as you confirm, “He’s alive?”

“Yes, he’s alive and stable.” The man informs you, “He’ll recover, Miss Mitchell.”

Bradley’s not dead. Bradley’s not dead. Bradley’s not dead.

“I’ll be there,” You repeat, and for the first time in almost 36 hours, you kick the crappy motel blankets off of your legs and stand, “Thank you, sir.”

--

Wearing a bra again after two weeks of lazing around in bed is awful. But you’ll do it for Bradley, if only to make up for the last thing you’d said to him.

“I can’t love you anymore!” Rings in your ears, and a vision of Bradley’s hands reaching desperately for you flashes through your mind, covering up the green light ahead of you.

Someone honks behind you, a BMW. You jolt to attention, stepping on the gas and jerking into the intersection.

Easy, you chide yourself, You’re going to the hospital to visit a patient, not to be one.

You’re able to pull into the hospital’s parking lot without nearly causing any more car crashes, and you briefly wonder if you should take the coward’s way out again as you trek over the asphalt towards the hospital. You’d run two weeks ago, why not now? Why not now, when what you’d been worried about that night has actually happened?

Urged by the regret flooding your veins since fleeing, you walk on, stepping through the automatic doors of the hospital and sidling up to the reception desk.

“I’m here to see Bradley Bradshaw,” You inform the nurse there, “Uh- Lieutenant. If that… helps.”

She sends you a kind smile, filled with sympathy that you’re thankful for as you stammer and stumble your way through speaking. You’re sure you’re not the most distraught person here, and you’re guiltily thankful for that. 

“Room 624,” The nurse tells you, and oh, what a sick coincidence, “Down the hall and to the left, take the elevator up and follow the arrows on the floor.”

6/24 is not only Bradley’s birthday, but your anniversary; the day you’d kissed him on the swings in his backyard with hot fudge sticking to your lips. He’d been glum about his dad missing his birthday on deployment, and, of course, your dad couldn’t be there either. Carole had done her best to brighten up her boy, but some things couldn’t be mended with gift wrap, and you all knew that.

You’d snuck out to join him that night with a sundae, offering him the serving spoon thickly coated in the chocolate. He’d accepted it with a huffy eye roll, upset that you’d managed to cheer him up even a little bit with just one spoon of ice cream.

--

“It sucks,” Bradley mutters around the chocolate in his mouth, the syrup sticking his words together, “I know he can’t do anything about it. But I still want him here.”

“I know,” You hum, taking a bite of ice cream for yourself, “I’m sorry, Brad. If it makes you feel any better, he’ll probably get you something, like, really good when he gets back. He’ll feel all guilty, that’s what my dad did and I got a puppy out of it.”

“We’ve already got a puppy,” Bradley gestures to the Bradshaw’s family dog, well on in years by the gray around his muzzle and his tendency to nap instead of move.

“Maybe you’ll get one that you can actually play with,” You offer Bradley another bite of the ice cream, and you only feel a little bad for making fun of Lewis. But the dog doesn’t understand your teasing, softly snoring on the porch.

“Maybe he’ll get me a car,” Bradley gushes, “A bitchin’ one, like a Bronco or something. Then we can put our surfboards in the back and go to the beach.”

“You don’t even have a license!” You elbow Bradley, laughing at his lofty dreams, “But a Bronco would be cool. You should send your dad a magazine clipping of one with your next letter and talk about how cool it is.”

“You’re smarter than you look,” Bradley muses, a smear of chocolate over his lower lip that he doesn’t lick away.

You scoff, stomping on his foot where it’s planted in the grass beside your own. He jolts away with a yelp, and in doing so, jerks the swing he’s sitting on, He catches his balance and you notice the syrup on his lip, reaching out to clean it with your thumb.

“You’ve got hot fudge on your face, doofus,” You sneer, happy to return his teasing, “You eat like a toddler.”

“I’m not the one who put three cups of it on the sundae!” Bradley insists, and his lower lip catches your thumb as he speaks. Teenagers in love, you’re hyperaware of touches like that, and your breath hitches in your throat at the contact. He notices it too, staring down wide-eyed at where your thumb hovers over his lips.

“Sorry,” He blurts, and in doing so, his warm breath fans over your hand. You jerk it away, eyes on the ground as you mumble away his concerns.

“It’s fine,” You mutter in a terrible attempt to remain nonchalant, “We’re not four, it’s not like I think you’ve got cooties or something.’

Bradley takes to the teasing, glad it’s not tense anymore, “That’s not what you say when I leave my underwear on the floor.”

“‘Cause that’s gross!” You launch into a rant, “That’s, like, personal! And they’re used too,” You shudder, handing him the sundae intent on scrubbing a hand over your face, “Nasty, bro.”

Despite your casual nickname for the boy beside you, you feel like anything but bros when his hand brushes yours. He takes the ice cream from you, and his hand half-closes around your own, sending a spark shooting up your spine.

Your breath catches in your throat again and this time Bradley hears it, looking at you through his lashes with those wide brown eyes.

Neither of you move away this time, frozen just like the treat in your joint grip.

You feel extra affection for the boy next to you today, the shared grief of losing your fathers every few months bringing you closer together. It’s what compels you to lean in, tilting your swing sideways to brush your lips over his own in a painfully awkward teenage-style kiss. Before you have the time to panic about whether you did the right thing, Bradley reciprocates, pursing his lips slightly to fit them around your top one. You follow his lead and it goes much better, a chaste kiss that’s sweeter than the chocolate staining your lips.

--

You’re glad you’d kissed him that day, you’re glad you had the balls to take the leap that resulted in a nearly twenty year long relationship. It would have been twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-five, fifty if you hadn’t chickened out two weeks ago, but you try not to think about that in the elevator lest you make yourself sick.

You find room 624 easily, the painted arrows on the floor leading you down the hallway that the room stands in. You wonder if you should knock first, you’re not too knowledgeable on hospital etiquette, but you decide that manners can be damned, your boyfriend- ex-boyfriend is in there.

You turn the handle and step inside, and Carole looks up from Bradley’s bedside immediately. You think she’s expecting a doctor, and her desperation for finding one breaks your heart. Her teary face splits into a sad smile, and she rushes to your side to envelop you in a hug. You let her have it because she’s grieving over her son, but you’re surprised she’s not immediately angry with you for breaking up with Bradley.

“Honey,” She gushes into your shoulder, “Oh, honey, I’m so glad you’re here! Brad’s gonna be okay, they said he’s just gonna need some help breathing until he gets stable. Then they can get him healthy and ready to go again!”

“That’s great,” You hold her close, relishing the last Bradshaw hug you’ll probably ever get, “Where’s Nick and dad?”

“Oh, they went to get food,” Carole releases you, swatting her hand in the air in an affectionately teasing manner, “You know those boys, always hungry for something.”

You laugh awkwardly, watching as she settles down by Bradley’s bedside again. She looks back up at you where you’re swaying on your feet, gesturing to the chair beside her, “Well come on, girl! Get in here!” She seems much more lively now that she has company, and you hate to think of her grieving her injured son alone.

“Oh- I, uh,” You stammer, darting for the seat beside her, “I wasn’t sure if-”

“Don’t worry,” She seems to misplace your concern, “He’s okay, sweetie-pie, you won’t hurt him just by breathin’ on him.”

“Right,” You smile, though its disingenuous with tension, “Um, so it was a mid-exercise crash?”

“Mhm,” Her face dims slightly, “Apparently there was some freak accident with one of the engines, 'set off the whole thing. And that’s two crashes in one week! First it was that Javy boy, I tell you, I think they should vet those engineers better. I mean, aren’t they supposed to catch that stuff beforehand?”

“Yeah,” You feel partially numb, but you’re not sure whether it’s emotional or physical. You’ve been trying to avoid looking at Bradley so far, using his bubbly, bouncing mom as a distraction, but now that the blonde has settled beside you your eyes drift. 

He could be perceived as sleeping, if the color wasn’t drained from his face. His skin is still tan but it’s duller now, golden brown fading to a sickly, colder shade of it, like there’s no life beneath it. His eyes are shut and there’s a breathing tube up his nose; you wonder how pissed he’ll be when he wakes up to find out they’ve had to trim his mustache around the thing.

“Must be a Bradshaw family tradition,” Carole breaks your concentration, laughing weakly, her voice lined with a hint of tears, “Crashing, scarin’ their girls half to death.”

You remember the day of Goose’s crash like it was yesterday. You’d only been three at the time, freshly so. But grief like that, the panic you’d observed, doesn’t go away. It can’t be forgotten, it can’t drift out of your brain like so many memories do with age. You and Bradley had sat together in the hospital with Carole and your dad, and Nick still had the crummy plane drawings you’d done for him while waiting for him to wake up.

Carole’s usage of the phrase ���their girls’ unnerves you. She’s been exceptionally nice to you so far, especially considering that she’s fiercely protective of Bradley, and should have kicked you halfway to Mars for ditching him like you’d done. But she’s leaning towards you in her chair, and you come to the dreadful realization that she doesn’t know you’ve broken up with Bradley.

“Now, I know you wanted to keep things hush-hush,” She gushes, happy to look at your animated face instead of Bradley’s still one for a moment. She reaches over to brace her hands on your knees, leaning eagerly into your space, “But I have to know, babycakes, how did it go?”

“Hm?” You look dazedly at her, still partially staring at Bradley.

“The proposal!” She squeezes your hands, sniffling weakly with the remnants of tears past, “I know that boy was finally manning up enough to ask you, 'should'a put a ring on you years ago."

Any other time, you'd groan at Carole's opinion on your relationship. She's been urging the two of you to tie the knot for decades, but you'd felt no burning desire to go to the courthouse. You were comfortable in your life, why spend an obscene amount of money to get a piece of paper that tells you you're in love? You knew that for free, in the way that Bradley looked at you, in the way that he memorized all of your fast food orders, in the way that his hand so often found yours beneath the sheets in his sleep. Now her teasing is a sore spot, one that gapes the wound already bleeding in your chest.

"-But when I asked him how it went he said he’d ‘share the details later’. I’m sure you wanted to make some big announcement or something, but I need this right now, honey, tell me what happened.”

She’s staring at you like she always has, like you’re the sweet little girl she helped raise when your mama had chickened out. Cowardice must run in the family.

There’s such pretty hope shining in her eyes that you can’t bear to crush it, ready to spew lies about how glorious Bradley’s proposal had gone, how you’d fallen to your knees to kiss him, how you’d shouted ‘yes!’ from the rooftops. Fortunately, you don’t have to lie to her, because the door opens and your dad and Nick step through.

“Hey,” Your dad cheers, tossing you a plastic-wrapped sandwich, “There you are, honey. I was worried you weren’t gonna show up, ‘thought you’d be mad at him or something.”

“You know she was mad at me when we went down?” Goose gestures to Carole incredulously, and you can’t see behind his sunglasses but you know he’s addressing you, “I wasn’t even flying the damn thing and I got lectured!”

He lets up, goes easy on Carole, you’re sure because he’d had to comfort her earlier. You see a slightly dark, damp patch on the left side of his Hawaiian shirt as he leans in to hug you, probably her tears.

“Good to see ‘ya, kid,” Nick rubs your back, “You doin’ okay?”

“Yeah,” You nod, voice slightly shaky as you smooth your previously-folded hands down your thighs. The movement catches Carole’s attention, and you look away before you can see her reaction to your bare ring finger.

“He’ll be fine,” Goose leans over to slap Bradley’s calf, and Carole looks like she wants to scold him for it, as if he'll die right then and there, “He’s tough just like’is daddy.”

“His daddy should go get me some tea,” Carole huffs, placing her hand over Bradley’s as if it would make up for Nick’s slap, “And take Maverick with you, I don’t want you getting lost.”

“Oh, again-?” Goose grumbles, setting his lunch on one of the plastic chairs around Bradley’s bed, “You could’a told me that before we left, honey.”

“Didn’t want it until now,” Carole insists, “Now shoo, get some for Y/N, too.”

The second the door shuts behind the two men, a stiff silence falls over the room.

Carole’s sweet voice breaks it, but it’s the last thing you want to hear, “Where’s the ring?”

You stare at the sandwich in your lap, like it’ll open face and read like a book, giving you instructions on how to lie your way through this.

“I know he asked you,” She presses on, voice pitched up with tension, “I- I gave him the ring Nick used to propose to me. That was almost a month ago. We swapped it out for a wedding band, and- and I thought Bradley could use the engagement ring for you, too. I know he asked you.”

“Carole,” You can’t bear to look her in the eyes, not the woman who’d fed you macaroni and cheese when your dad was halfway around the world in a fighter jet and tucked you in extra tight during a rainstorm so that the lightning couldn't sneak through the gaps in the blankets to get you.

“No, tell me, where is the ring?” She raises her voice, the way she used to when Bradley would leave his scooter out in the rain to rust, “Just tell me-” Her voice peters out into a weak whimper, “-tell me you didn’t say no.”

“I’m a coward,” You finally mutter as her answer, hateful and wicked, “I got scared. I wish I’d said yes, really, I- I wish I could take it back, but-”

“What did you do?” Her face crumples at your admission and she nearly shrieks, squeezing her hand tighter over Bradley’s, “Y/N, what did you do?”

“I said no!” You sob, chest heaving as you wipe away a tear from your eye heavy-handed, “I was scared, Carole. After Coyote went down,” You blearily recall the last plane crash you’d heard about, a member of Bradley’s own squadron caught in a bird strike. He’d been fine, but waiting for the news took you right back to your youth, and you’d been hit with the striking realization that it could happen to Bradley, too. It could be you in that chair, it could be your love on the line. You’d been so sick with dread that you’d backed away altogether, running away to preserve your emotions.

“I just- I didn’t want it to happen to Bradley,” You confess, “I didn’t want it to happen to me. So when he asked, I was-” You sniffle, hard, “I was so scared. I didn’t want to marry him and then lose him. For some reason this-” You suppress a sob, throat aching and chest heaving, “-dating a pilot is different than marrying one. Dating is- it’s temporary, even if you plan on it lasting forever. It’s less serious, it’s not set in stone. But marriage-” You hiccup, “-marriage is the real deal. It's like- It's like I was dating Bradley, y'know, the teenage boy who took me to homecoming because I was sad no one asked me. But- but then all of a sudden I was marrying an aviator. And that’s- that was scary! That was real. I- we’d been together for twenty years!” You gush, wiping your nose with the back of your hand, “I should have known marriage wouldn’t be any different. It’s not like we ever thought we’d break up,” You sniffle weakly, “Marriage was always sort of silly to me, 'cause we just thought we'd be together forever regardless. But I never realized how real it would feel. So I- I freaked out. When he asked me, I made up some stupid excuse, and I chickened out! But-” Your chest heaves with a sob as you finally lift your eyes to Bradley, “He crashed anyway. He went down even though I said no, and it still hurts.” You cry, face scrunched in despair, “It hurts so bad, Carole, I didn’t think it would still hurt.”

“You fool,” She huffs exasperatedly, but she reaches out to clutch your hand like a lifeline. She’s holding Bradley’s with her other, and you wish for a moment that you could cut out the middleman and hold his hand on your own. You don't feel worthy to touch him anymore. “You don’t stop loving someone by leaving them, you stop loving them by moving on. Of course it still hurts, you didn't move on; you still love him. And- and leaving him didn’t stop him from getting hurt, it just meant he probably went down wishing he got to tell you he loved you this morning, so you'd know.”

The thought breaks you, Bradley ejecting with you on his mind. Evidently he hadn’t fully accepted your breakup, not if he hadn’t even told his mom about it. You wonder if he was planning on trying to get you back, if after work today he would have come over with flowers and a thousand pleas on his lips that you didn’t deserve.

“He loves you,” She continues, tears wetting her own cheeks, “And even if you did say somethin’ stupid, I don’t think there’s anything you could tell that boy that’d make him stop loving you. Apologize when he wakes up, baby, he’ll understand. He'll be hurt, no doubt. But he’s been scared before, too, believe me.”

“I will,” You gush, nodding as she squeezes your hand and Bradley’s in sync, “I will, I promise! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Just make it right,” She pleads, “Can’t have you two splittin’ up now, not after all this time.”

“I wish I hadn’t done it,” You weep, holding your hands to your eyes as if you can plug up the tears, “I- I just panicked! And I’ve been a wreck ever since, I- I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t-”

“Tea’s here!” The door opens, and Nick is suddenly a lot quieter as he sees you bent in half and crying, “Oh, honey.”

“C’mere,” Your dad edges around Goose, squatting by the side of your chair while Carole rubs your back. He’s always been fantastic at comforting you, which you marvel at because he was so active in his career. He wasn’t always around when you were little, but that didn’t stop him from knowing how you liked your back rubbed, your hair done, and your cookies warmed.

“He’s gonna wake up,” Your dad soothes you, wiping a tear away from your face, with the hand that isn’t rubbing your back, “Don’t worry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay,” Carole promises, and you know she’s talking about something else entirely, “It’s alright honey, it’ll all work out.”

Nick feels a bit useless now, standing there with two cups of tea in his hands while everyone else comforts you, but he’s quick to notice a frown work its way onto Bradley’s sleeping face.

“Brad- hey! Look,” He gestures with one cup of tea, only spilling a tiny drop, “I think he’s wakin’ up.”

All of a sudden you want to go home. You’re not sure you can do this, you don’t belong here with his grieving family. You belong in your bed, kicking yourself for your cowardice and wishing you’d done better by him.

But there’s no time to flee now, not again. This time you have to brave it, you have to watch as his big brown eyes slowly blink open, a haze of sleep and medication clouding them over.

“Agh,” He groans, hand twitching by his side, “What-?”

“Hey, Bradley.” Nick leans over the bed, tea now set aside on a tiny table, “How y’feelin’ bud? You had quite the plane crash.”

Bradley takes a moment to observe his surroundings, blinking blearily at your dad, then you, then his mom. His eyes drift back over to you and they feel like they’re lasers, boring searing holes through your chest where your heart used to be two weeks ago.

The slow and steady beeping that had been long since tuned out slowly started to increase while Bradley regained consciousness. Your dad looked warily at the machine, watching Bradley’s heart rate rise.

“I’ll get a doctor.” He ducks out, and Carole stands.

“We should go,” She grabs Nick’s hand, looking pointedly at you, “We’ll give you a minute alone with him, honey.”

Nick starts to protest about being led away, something about how ‘-he came outta my balls! I can’t see him when he wakes up in the hospital?’ but Carole’s already corralling him to the nurse’s station in search of your father. If you weren’t so fond of the woman you’d be cursing her for sticking you alone with Bradley, but you know you can’t let yourself succumb to fear again; this time you have to be a big girl.

“Baby,” Bradley rasps, turning your attention back on him. You watch him weakly, eyes apprehensive as he reaches for your hand, “C’mere.” 

You hesitate, and he lets out a weak chuckle, “Come on, now. You’re not gonna kill me by holding my hand.”

“Bradley,” You sniffle, reaching out for his limp fingers on the bed, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” He smiles lazily, eyes drooping, “I’m okay. Comes in the job description, I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” You repeat, grief-stricken as you clutch at his hand desperately, “I shouldn’t have left, I- I wish I had stayed.”

“Baby,” His brows furrow and he laughs sympathetically, “They wouldn’t have let you stay, you know that. I work on a naval base, not at a chipotle. You can’t sit with me all day. Plus, there was no way you would’ve known I was gonna go down. I’m glad you weren’t there, sweetheart. I wouldn’t have wanted you to see that.”

All at once, your chest burns hot, blazing with panic. Is he not going to talk to you about it? Is he going to pretend nothing happened? Is he going to refuse to acknowledge what you’d said? You stammer, “What-?”

“Mr. Bradshaw!” The doctor comes in, cheery now that his patient is awake. You turn your head, still dazed and fear-stricken at Bradley’s demeanor. “Let’s see how you’re doing here. Any chest pain?”

“A little,” Bradley shifts in his bed, wincing infinitesimally.

“Probably just some discomfort due to the broken ribs. Headache?”

“Yeah,” Bradley admits with a groan, “That I’ve got.”

The doctor scribbles something down on his chart, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Bradley strains to think, “I… don’t know. I don’t even-" He grimaces, "I don't even remember the crash, ‘just know it happened ‘cause he told me.”

Bradley raises a shaky finger to point at Nick, who’s happy to see his son gain some mobility back, even if he is worried for the boy. The three adults had filed back into the room after the doctor, and you pointedly avoid Carole’s imploring stare.

“Think hard,” The doctor commands, and you squeeze his hand like it’s a play-dough machine, like memories will ooze themselves into his brain in star shapes and heart cut-outs.

“I remember…” Bradley rasps, turning his hand beneath yours to grasp it, “Jake’s birthday party. That was-” He glances over at you, “-last night?”

“That was three weeks ago,” This time your heart rate is the one to rise, echoing dully in your ears like the soundtrack of a horror film, “Is that-” You sniffle, “Is that the last thing you can remember, B?”

His eyebrows raise and he tries taking in the information, “Yeah- uh, shit. Three weeks ago. What does that mean, doctor?”

“It sounds like you’ve developed post-traumatic amnesia.” The doctor scribbles once more on his paperwork, “The good news is, we think you have only a mild concussion. And amnesia induced by mild concussions typically lasts only up to a week or two at most. But there’s a very real chance you could remember everything in just a few minutes.”

Amnesia.

He doesn’t remember.

“What I want you to do now is to rest, and we’ll have a nurse send up something to eat. Please,” The doctor eyes Nick knowingly, “Do not feed him the funyuns you’re holding behind your back.”

“Foiled again,” Goose laughs, tossing the packet of chips onto a chair beside his own lunch, “You got it, doc.”

“Alright, glad you’re awake,” The doctor bids you goodbye, “And- a nurse will be in to run a few simple tests later. For now, just sleep and eat.”

“Will do,” Bradley tries tightening his hand around yours but you worm away from him, and it’s heartbreakingly easy to do with his limited mobility. You stand abruptly, legs shaky and heart pounding in your chest as you stumble away from his bed.

Amnesia. Amnesia. Amnesia.

He doesn't remember.

“Honey?” Bradley calls warily, face scrunching into a tired frown.

His eyes follow you as you back right into your chair, the plastic scraping against the floor with an ungodly screech. Now the attention is all on you, and you give into that dreaded fight or flight response you seem to always fall victim to.

“I need to use the bathroom,” You ramble, rushing for the door, “I’ll be back!”

“Y/N-” Bradley tries calling, but his voice is weak enough where you can pretend you haven’t heard it as you try to refrain from running down the hall. You don’t make it ten steps before Bradley’s door closes with a sharp click, and the voice of one Carole Bradshaw cuts through the silence of the hallway.

“Y/N Mitchell!”

She’s using the same tone she used to use when you’d get in trouble for pulling a girl’s hair at school, or throwing mud at a boy who was mean to Bradley. You react just like you had then, spine stiffening and limbs locking. 

“Don’t you dare walk away from me,” She warns, stomping towards you in her half-raised heels, “Turn around, young lady.”

You follow her orders even if the nickname is outdated. She’s got her pretty eyes narrowed, and as much as it pains you to be on the receiving end of one of her seldom-used withering stares, it’s better than being in there and watching Bradley’s eyes shift when he suddenly remembers you’d been the biggest douche on planet Earth.

“Did you apologize?” She inquires, and you nod obediently.

“But- but Carole, he doesn’t remember-!” 

“He will,” She promises, “And when he does, you’d better apologize again. He needs you right now, y’know? He thinks it’s three weeks ago, before you ran off and left'im. As far as he knows, you’re still his adoring girlfriend who he’s probably yearning to see right about now. So go in there,” She reaches for your hand, “Kiss that boy on the mouth,” She demands, “And stop running away!”

“What? I can’t-” You gush, trying to pull away. But she’s stronger than Bradley is at the moment, and her hand tightens around yours, “I can’t lie to him! Not about this, I- how long am I supposed to pretend?”

“As long as you can,” She insists, already pulling you back towards his room, a woman on a mission, “You march right on in there, and tell him how worried you were, and let his memories come back to him on his own time. He’s traumatized right now, he just doesn’t know it yet, and he needs you there. If you break the news to him now, it’ll only stress him out more. Go play nice, and when he comes around in a few minutes, you can have a real talk.”

“I don’t want to lie to him,” You lament, and she stops pulling you down the hall to narrow her eyes at you.

“Babydoll?” She asks sweetly, and fooled by her kindness, you hum in question, “I don’t give a shit.”

She’s never foul-mouthed, so it catches your attention. She holds your incredulous gaze, “You want him back?”

“Yes.”

“You wish you’d never left?”

“Yes.”

“Well as far as he knows, you haven’t.” She huffs, the fabric of her skirt flowing near her calves, “So get in there and be there for your boyfriend of twenty years, and when he suddenly remembers you aren’t his girlfriend anymore, Grovel. Sound like a plan?” She raises an eyebrow, and you tamp down the nerves rising in your chest. You nod cautiously, resolutely, and she loosens her grip on your hand. She still holds it to lead you back to the room, but she stops outside the door to speak one last time.

“I know you love him,” Her voice is softer now, genuinely sweet and caring, “And I also know you like to run when things get scary. And that’s understandable, but it’s not okay, not right now. You can’t stop loving someone just ‘cause you don’t wanna lose ‘em. It’ll hurt worse if you walk away.”

“I know,” You breathe shakily, squeezing her hand, “Thanks, Carole.”

“Anytime, sweetpea,” She smiles, tears still gathered in her eyes, “Now get in there and kiss my son.”

“There they are,” Your dad stands as you reenter the room, “You ladies have a nice bathroom break?”

“‘Had the time of our lives,” Carole nods, letting you take the seat closest to Bradley’s head. Your feet feel burdened with lead weights as you step towards his bedside, and he watches you with worried eyes. You’re sure he knows you weren’t really going to the bathroom, not with the way you’d fled, but you’re glad he’s choosing to pretend for your sake. He seems worried, though, and you curse yourself for making this about you.

“Y/N,” He reaches out for you as soon as you’re in reach, his voice still hoarse. His hand squeezes yours instantly, and you feel for the panic he's probably experiencing. He deserves a shoulder to lean on, a hand to hold, and it should be someone better than you.

“Bradley,” You murmur back, trying to stop your lips from trembling, “I- can I kiss you?”

Carole’s voice rings in your ears, and you don’t have to turn around to know she’s smiling at the two of you. Bradley pauses, then his worried eyes soften and he nods weakly against the pillow.

“Oh,” Nick teases as you brace your hand on Bradley’s bed, leaning down to press a feather-light kiss to his lips, “Lovebirds!”

The kiss is nothing but awkward. It’s hesitant on your end, because you can’t believe you get to do it again. You’d really believed the goodbye kiss you’d shared with Bradley before he picked up dinner for the two of you would be your last one, so fitting your lips over his in the hospital seems like something otherworldly. You’re careful, too, because you don’t want to hurt him, not that you think you could ever smooch him to death. He doesn’t reciprocate much, he can’t, but the familiar prickle of his mustache against your lip is a welcome feeling that makes your heart feel light again, if only for a few seconds.

When you pull away, it’s gone. Because you have to look him in the eyes, the same ones you’d forced tears out of two weeks ago, and pretend like none of it happened at all.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” You gush, voice cracking, and it feels right starting off with the truth. You can get to the lies later, the ugly little abominations you’re cooking up so that he preserves as much mental energy as possible while on bedrest. You know Carole’s right, you know he needs to heal as much as he can before you make it worse with the news, but lying feels so wrong. He’ll find out sooner or later, and what if he really was done with you? What if he hadn’t told his mom so that no family drama erupted, what if it wasn’t because he was going to try to get you back? What if he hated you, and what if he hates you even more when he knows you’re lying through your teeth to him?

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He promises, his fingers curling slowly and carefully around your own, "Are you? You ran off, I was worried."

"I'm fine," You insist, waving away his concern with a shake of your head.

He doesn't seem satisfied with your answer; he can read you like a book. But he accepts your answer, and you admire him for not wanting to pry in front of everyone. He changes the subject, glancing briefly around the hospital room, “Baby my- my phone, can I have my phone?”

“It’s here,” Your dad hands it to him, and Carole watches your eyes widen infinitesimally. What if Bradley sees his text conversations? What if he sees that you haven’t talked in half a month? What if he finds messages from someone on a dating app he’d used, a rebound-in-the-making?

What if he’s changed his background? What if he wants an answer as to why it’s probably some picturesque sunset, a jet plane cutting through the clouds above. Or maybe it’s of Lewis, he’d recently had photos restored of the dog.

What if he notices your contact name is changed to something like ‘Do not answer’? What if he realizes he’s blocked you? What if all of your pictures together are deleted off of his phone, and he wonders why?

There’s a thousand things that could go wrong.

“Coyote called,” Bradley rasps, upon first sight of his screen. Then, “Hangman. Twice. Phoenix, Bob, Fanboy, Payback, I- I should send out a message.”

“I will!” You lunge for your own phone, digging in your back pocket with suspicious urgency, “Uh, I’ll let everyone know, you just- just rest.”

“Okay,” Bradley hesitates for only a second, letting his grip go loose around his phone so that it falls back to the bed.

He seems content to let you do it, if only a little deterred by your insistence. But you’ll play the part of the fussy girlfriend, not wanting her injured love to work harder than he has to.

Nick and Pete take the time that you’re creating a group thread to question Bradley more on his memories, and every answer he gives sets your heart on edge. Your fingers feel numb as you type out ‘Rooster’s stable now, he has a mild concussion and a few broken ribs, but the doctors say he’ll recover fully. His memories are a little hazy from the past few weeks but apparently those will be back soon. I’ll send you any updates we get.’

Before anyone even has a chance to reply, you set the thread on silent. You can’t bear even getting a notification that the message can’t be sent, because you’re sure Bradley’s team aren’t too fond of you right now, and you wouldn’t be surprised if they’d blocked you in solidarity for their friend. But Bradley hadn’t even told his mom, would he have told his team? Would he even need to? Or would they notice the circles beneath his eyes worsening, the stubble adorning his cheeks from a lack of motivation to do anything productive? Or, maybe even worse, would they have seen him with another girl hanging off of his arm at a bar? Would they have caught him out to lunch with a woman and figured it out themselves?

“Hey,” Bradley rasps, effectively breaking your zoned-out worry spiral. Your eyes don’t lose their intensity but they focus on his pale face, and he offers you a weak smile, “Anyone respond?”

“Always the attention seeker,” Nick laughs, creating a distraction so perfect that you don’t bother checking the text to answer Bradley. “Should we tell ‘em to bring flowers too, Brad?”

“Shut up,” Bradley’s voice is far too quiet to be menacing, but it’s the type of teasing he always engages in with his old man, “When you were in the hospital you said I had to draw you one picture a day or you’d think I didn’t love you.”

“And I only got fifteen out of eighteen,” If Goose is capable of a withering stare, it’s what’s directed at Bradley now, “I can’t believe I bought a Bronco for a kid who doesn’t love me.”

“Alright, you two,” Carole swats at her husband’s arm, “Cut it out, don’t overwhelm him.”

“His heart’s beatin’ real fast,” Nick snickers, “But that’s probably ‘cause Miss Mitchell is doting all over him.”

The attention’s back on you, and it means Bradley’s waiting to hear your response. You dry swallow after sending Nick a good-natured eye-roll, trying to act like your heart isn’t beating ten times faster than Bradley’s.

Miraculously, nothing awful awaits you in the group chat. There’s no error messages, no scolding, no pledges of hatred for you, and it makes you think that you really might be able to get away with this for a while. Carole won’t tell, and that doctor said Bradley might not retain his memories for weeks. It’s like everyone has hit undo on what might be your biggest mistake in life, and you don’t know how to take the opportunity.

“Bob says he hopes you recover soon,” You push the panicked fog out of your head, reading in a low voice, “Hangman says he’s gonna give you flying lessons when you get back so that you,” You snort softly, “Get the hang of it, and to that, he is receiving a barrage of middle finger emojis.”

Rooster lets out a laugh, one that’s genuine and thick from his chest. It’s unlike his voice has been so far, it’s not fractured or achy, and the sound warms your heart. Some of the sickly despair that’s been coating your heart like globs of poison dries up, and you almost feel normal again when you slide your hand into his. He holds your back, and it’s like nothing’s ever happened.

You have your Bradley back; the only question is for how long.

Lunch is a sorry state of affairs for Bradley. His tray consists of chicken and gravy that runs into his mashed potatoes, and the jello they give him has a layer of cherry red liquid pooling overtop. You and Carole take turns spoon-feeding the man, giving each other a chance to mow through your sandwiches between bites.

Your dad watches out for the doctors while you sneak Bradley some of your sandwich. It’s cafeteria turkey, and honestly you’d rather go for the chicken on his plate, but he hums gratefully at the spread of mayonnaise and mustard on the bread.

“Thanks, babydoll.” He croons, a smear of mashed potatoes in his mustache that you wipe away with watery eyes at the nickname. He puckers his lips to kiss at your thumb and it’s like you’re at home on his birthday, feeding him in bed and stealing kisses between bites.

Bradley’s eyes start to droop halfway through his watery jello, and your dad stands, brushing sandwich crumbs off of his jeans.

“Alright, buddy,” He squeezes Bradley’s foot reassuringly, “I’ll head out. Probably best to let you sleep. Get some rest, and make her give us updates,” He narrows his eyes at you, accusatory, “I know you’ll be too wrapped up in him to remember we exist, but take some time away from his lips to tell me if he’s still breathing out of ‘em, m’kay?”

“Don’t be makin’ out too much, “Nick goads, standing when Carole grabs his hand and does herself, “His heart rate’ll skyrocket and the nurse is gonna think he’s havin’ a heart attack!”

‘Yes, yes, they love each other very much,” Carole hums, leaning down to kiss Bradley’s forehead. He leans into it but his hand stays in yours, and you gladly accept the same gesture from the woman on your cheek, “Let’s leave him be, okay? Brad, I’m coming back tomorrow morning,” She promises, “Your dad and Pete have some work to do in the backyard, but they’ll join us after lunch.”

The men don’t seem to have known about this yard work until now, and they share equally exasperated groans. 

“And I’ll be here,” You throw in, meeting Carole’s appreciative gaze, “I’ll stay until they throw me out.”

“You could always handcuff yourself to the bed,” Your dad hums, and you pointedly ignore Goose’s comment about the pair of handcuffs you ‘probably keep in your nightstand.’ It gets him a sharp smack upside the head from your dad, and you’re sure Nick will choose a better audience next time.

“We love you,” Carole promises, squeezing Bradley’s arm as he bids her goodbye, “We’ll see you tomorrow, baby!”

“Love you,” Bradley hums, voice less gruff than before now that he’s used it again, “See you tomorrow.”

The entire time he’s been awake, he hasn’t let go of your hand. He turns to you with those sleepy eyes of his, big and brown and begging for a kiss. You lean in before you can stop yourself, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

His heart rate picks up.

You laugh against his mouth at the increased beeping, and he’s barely sheepish as he nudges his nose against your own. You feel like you’re loving on borrowed time, like any second now he’ll be slammed with the memory of you breaking his heart, stomping all over it like it hadn’t been yours for the past 20 years - maybe all of your life.

“I love you,” He murmurs, squeezing your hand, “Y/N, I- I love you so much. I don’t remember anything,” He’s slurring his words slightly with fatigue, and you kiss the corner of his mouth as he speaks, “But I know you could have lost me forever, and I’m sure it wasn’t easy to handle.”

He has no idea how true his words are. Of course, you’d nearly lost his life to the crash. But two weeks earlier, you’d lost his touch, his voice, his gaze, his love, and you’re grateful the tears that line your eyes look natural.

“Mhm,” You nod, sniffling, “It was- it was hard, Brad.” You admit, thinking back to the night you’d left. You’d checked into a shitty motel for the night, and you’d cried yourself sick in the shower. Even after your stomach was emptied you couldn’t bring yourself to eat for two days afterwards, and you’d only given into the mini fridge after nearly passing out. Your days were long and spent regretting your decision, wondering if you’d ever be happy without him by your side, and worrying that he might be able to.

“I just keep wanting to do it over,” You gush, feeling his hand tighten around your own as you sob, “I- I wanted to take it back, to-” You swallow a sob, remembering your lines, “-to stop you from going to work. If I’d just made you stay…” Your face crumples with a gush of tears you aren’t able to hold back, and you give up on speaking for now.

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Bradley hums, kissing the space between your nose and your cheek. It’s all he can reach from the way you’re sobbing into his pillow, and you’re thankful for the comfort you might not be able to get soon.

“You couldn’t have changed anything,” He promises, and you nestle your head into his own to absorb his soothing voice, “My plane was still the one with the defect, baby. I would have gone down tomorrow if not today. ‘S only a matter of time.”

A wave of sickness washes over you at his choice of words, and you nod, trying to regain a grip. You lift yourself up from the pillow, neck aching as you crane it to kiss his chin. He smiles at you, his eyes so genuine and sweet that it makes you want to lose your lunch; it’s an expression you don’t deserve anymore, even if you long for it. It’s only a matter of time before he remembers everything, and you don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t want you anymore.

“You’re tired,” You hum, and he nods against the pillow, “Sleep, baby. You need rest.” You sniffle, wiping away a tear from your eye more forcefully than you need to. You try to lean back in your chair but Bradley stiffens, and feel him tighten his grip on your hand.

“Please don’t leave me,” He begs, and more of that nausea comes rolling in. They’re the exact words he’d whimpered just next to your ear two weeks ago, keeping the door closed with one hand while the other wound around your waist. Then, you’d wormed your way out of his grip, ripping the door open despite his efforts to stop you and running off to your car. Now though, you meet his eyes, scared and desperate and lost, and you nod, scooting forwards to lay your head on his chest.

“I’ll stay,” You promise, and he raises a hand to brace it against your cheek. You turn your head to kiss his palm, and he strokes a thumb over your face, “I’ll stay, Bradley, I promise.”

The nap that you take on Bradley’s chest is the best sleep you’ve had since you left. Being in his embrace once more practically erases your undereye circles, and it takes you a few seconds after you wake up to remember that anything is out of the ordinary in the first place. Then it all comes flooding back, and you cycle through each stage of grief respectively while still slumped onto the bed. Then you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder, and you realize that Bradley’s nurse has shaken you awake.

“Hi,” The man smiles down at you, “Sorry to interrupt. I’m sure you didn’t want to wake up.”

“Oh,” You laugh hesitantly, slipping out from beneath Bradley’s hand and wiping away a slight glob of drool that had accumulated around the corner of your mouth, “No, no, it’s okay. What time is it?”

“Dinnertime,” Another nurse chimes from by the door, carrying another tray of meat and potatoes for Bradley, “Around six-thirty, Miss Mitchell.”

“You’re welcome to eat here with him,” The first nurse informs you, “But you’ll have to get something from the cafeteria, or order in. And visiting hours end at eight,” He levels you with a sympathetic smile, “But if you’ve got one bite left I won’t kick you out.”

“Thank you,” You chuckle wearily, your voice barely thickened with tears, “I appreciate that. Bradley,” You hum, squeezing his hand and stroking your free one through his hair, “Wake up, baby. They brought you some dinner.”

He comes to groggy, and you don’t blame him. He blinks a few times, then recognition washes over his face as he remembers why he’s there, and hopefully nothing else.

The nurses get busy with moving his bed, pressing buttons on the little remote strapped to the side until he’s inclined enough to eat his meal. The tray hooks into the sides of the bed so that he doesn’t have to hold anything, but you take his fork for him anyways, leaving his hands completely free.

“Thank you,” You nod gratefully at the nurses when they retreat for the door, a smear of mashed potatoes already gathered on the utensil in your hand. Bradley’s happy to let you feed him, humming at the taste of the beef they’ve given him. 

“Better than the chicken,” He hums, his voice gaining back a bit of its grating quality from earlier. He’s usually rough-voiced after a nap, so you don’t worry too much about it. Typically you indulge in his raspy morning voice, but now it seems insensitive. 

“Good,” You croon, scooping mashed potatoes and gravy onto a bite of the beef, “And it doesn’t bother your stomach?”

“What’s there to upset it, salt?” He grumbles around a mouthful, “Barely tastes like anything.”

“Sorry, Brad,” You hum, stroking a stray strand of caramel colored hair back into place, “I’m not supposed to feed you anything else, though.”

“I know,” He relents, lips puckering to kiss your wrist instead of wrapping around the spoon in your hand, “Not your fault, baby. But,” He rears back to takes the bite, chewing thoughtfully while you wait for his next sentence, “Can you bring me cookies tomorrow?”

You laugh, trying to keep it quiet in the slowly darkening hospital room. There’s no one around, and the door is closed, but his voice isn’t loud and you don’t want to overpower him. 

“I just said I wasn’t allowed to feed you anything else,” You roll your eyes affectionately, a teasing gesture you thought you’d never be able to do with the man anymore, “What makes you think I’d bring you cookies?”

“Um, ‘cause you love me?” Bradley drawls, voice finally rising to a healthy volume. Maybe it’s the food in his stomach, or maybe it’s a switch that was suddenly flipped in his chest, but he sounds like himself again.

His words sober your fantasy intoxication, and you smile sadly at him where he lays in his bed. You set the fork down to lay your hand over his cheek, your palm soaking in the warmth of his skin that’s newly returned.

“I do love you,” You promise, leaning in to kiss him. You have to lean over his plate to do so, and you’ll worry later about any potential gravy stains on your shirt. You go slow and gentle, worried that he’ll push you away for reasons he doesn’t remember yet. But he doesn’t. In fact, when you pull away to give him some air, he catches your wrist in a surprising display of agility for his weakened muscles, and you freeze in place.

“I’m sorry,” He murmurs, mustache shifting slightly with his apology, “I can’t stop thinking about you getting that call. I never-” His voice cracks, “I never wanted you to go through that.”

“Me neither,” You feel tears pricking at your eyes again, the same that are shining in Bradley’s, “But you don’t have to be sorry. None of this was your fault, and what matters is that you’re okay now. I have you back, Bradley, I- I didn’t lose you.”

“You’ll never lose me,” He vows, and your lips sting with the force of your bite to repress a sob. 

He lifts his head from his pillow, the first time he’s done it since waking up. He kisses your temple as you try not to cry, lips dotting staccato kisses against your skin as you tremble slightly.

“I promise, baby,” He hums softly into your skin as his hand comes up to hug you, “You won’t lose me.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” You cry, your fist gripping his hospital gown desperately. You want to believe him but it’s not even really Bradley talking, it’s three-weeks-ago Bradley that doesn’t remember you walking out of his life for self-preservation. It’s Bradley that doesn’t know the worst of you yet, but who could remember at any moment and cast you away.

“You won’t, I promise.” He coos, stroking up and down your back. You feel silly, accepting comfort from a hospital patient who went down in a fighter jet less than 24 hours ago, but you feel even sillier that it's the same man you’d torn to shreds days prior. But he’s comforting you, he’s rubbing your back, he’s kissing your face, and he’s promising you that you’ll never lose him, so you let him, because you love hearing him lie, even if he doesn't know he's doing it. 

“You promise?” You look up at him with watery eyes that blur out his face, but you see him nod. It’s unfair to ask, not when he doesn’t have the knowledge to truly promise. He cranes his neck forwards to bump noses with you, letting you cry against his skin.

“I do, honey.” He nods, holding you close like you’d never left at all,  “I promise.”

Going from crying into each other’s embraces back to eating bland mashed potatoes is hard, but you ease Bradley into it with a bite of granola bar you’d found in your purse. He’s grateful for something with flavor, and you’re glad to finally be rid of the half-eaten snack. 

“Oatmeal raisin cookies, please,” Bradley begs as he chews the snack, going as far as to bat his pretty lashes at you, brown eyes shiny with hope. 

You scoff, wiping a tear away from your face with a fond, albeit trembling smile, “Okay, Brad. Oatmeal raisin.”

“You’re the best,’ He hums, grinning with a mouthful of oats and chocolate. You check your phone to find that you’ve only got twenty minutes left until visiting hours are over, and your eyes dim as you glance back up at him.

“I have to go soon,” You lament, “Visiting hours are over in twenty.”

His face fades from its pretty smile, some of the newfound color draining from his skin once more. You’re sure he’ll have a nightmare tonight, something about jet crashes and dying alone, and you hate leaving him here so vulnerable.

“I’m sorry, baby,” You sniffle, squeezing his hand, “They open back up at 8 tomorrow, so as soon as I make those cookies I’ll be back, I promise.”

“I know,” He nods, raising your intertwined hands to kiss at your wrist, “It’s okay. Not your fault.”

“I’d stay overnight if I could.”

“I’d sneak you into my bed,” Bradley grins sadly, “S’alright, baby, just get a good night’s sleep. You deserve it after today.”

“You too,” You squeeze his hand, smiling sweetly at him, “And if you have a nightmare, text me, and I’ll crawl through the window, ‘promise.”

He laughs again, and now that he’s got most of his strength back it’s a normal sound. It’s not weak, it’s not subdued, it’s perfect. It’s Bradley.

“I’d like to see you try,” He teases, and you wipe a smear of chocolate off of his lower lip, remembering the first time you’d ever done that with a fond smile.

“I’m on the sixth floor.” He reminds you, and you shrug, sucking the chocolate off of your finger.

“Meh,” You crumble up the granola bar wrapper in your fist, “I could scale that easy.”

“Oh, really? Yeah, I bet you could,” Bradley chuckles, “You’re Spider-Man, suddenly? Sticking to walls? I must have forgotten your transformation.”

“Yeah, you did,” You grin with a laugh, “Actually, while I rushed over here to see you, a truck full of radioactive spiders crashed, and I got bitten by one. You’ve missed a lot, Brad.”

“Right,” Bradley’s brows raise, eyes alight with amusement, “Those radioactive spider trucks are a real nuisance, I hear.”

Giggling sweetly with him feels normal. The kind of normal you crave, the kind that isn’t settled for, but yearned for. And you’re clinging to it, pushing the truth out of your mind and playing the part perfectly.

A knock on the door interrupts your gigglefest and you turn in time to see the nurse from before entering, a bittersweet smile on his face. 

“I’m supposed to kick you out,” He jokes, holding Bradley’s chart, “And you’re free to sleep whenever, Mr. Bradshaw, we don’t need to conduct any more tests tonight. You’re just here to be monitored."

“Alright,” Bradley nods and you stand, still clasping his hand in yours. The doctor busies himself with straightening up the chairs around the bed, and you take the privacy he so kindly grants you.

“Sleep good,” You recite your pre-bedtime deployment sendoff to Bradley, the phrase having gathered dust in the back of your head since his last overseas assignment, “Sweet dreams, and call me when you can.”

“I will,” Bradley leans up to kiss you, going for your lips, then your cheek, then your chin, “You too, baby. Get some rest. I’m okay, I promise.”

“Yeah,” You beam down at him, smoothing his hair away from his forehead, “You’re okay, Brad.”

"See you tomorrow!" He calls as you leave, and you turn to nod.

"See you tomorrow, baby." You promise once more, hand on the door handle, "Goodnight."

“Sleep well, Mr. Bradshaw,” The nurse bids Bradley goodbye with a smile and a nod as you trail out behind him, and at the click of the door behind the two of you, it’s like you’re the recovering amnesia patient. Now that Bradley’s not there anymore, not smiling at you, not telling you he loves you, it’s like you can’t be sure of anything, like you’re still that imposter you’d been when you’d first stepped in. You come to the sickening realization, only after the fact, that you'd loved lying to Bradley, and it makes you feel worse. Your reverie is shattered, and the nurse beside you notices your shaky breathing as you trail down the hallway.

“Miss, are you okay?” His brows furrow in concern, and you nod.

“Yeah, just-” You smooth your hands down your pants, your palms sweaty, “It’s a lot. Being in there, seeing him like- like that. I guess I wasn’t prepared.”

“No one is,” The nurse smiles sympathetically at you, leading you to an elevator, “But he’s right, Miss Mitchell. He’ll be alright. And hopefully, his memories will restore themselves overnight. There’s a good chance he’ll wake up remembering it all.”

You’re sure that was meant to soothe you, but it’s only sent more nausea rolling through your body. You nod, forcing a smile as the doors shut between you, “Thank you, Nurse.”

Once the doors shut, you want to burst into tears. You don’t want the reception desk to see that, though, so you rush through the motions of leaving, practically running to your car. Once you’re safely inside the floodgates open, and you’re surprised you don’t trigger the horn from how hard you’re sobbing against the steering wheel.

You try to channel Bradley’s voice, ‘I promise baby, you won't lose me.’ but it makes things worse, it piles guilt on top of your sickness and makes you want to run away again. Because he’d promised you that he’d never leave you, not that he’d ever let you come back if you’d left him. And that’s what you’re worried about now.

Running away hadn’t stopped anything bad from happening, it just made you feel worse when bad things did happen. Thankful for your second chance, you swear to yourself in the stuffy silence of your car that you’ll do anything to fix this, and that you’re not going to fuck this up again because you’re scared. Love is scary, giving yourself completely to another person is scary, but Bradley’s always been good at soothing your fears, and there’s no one you’d rather give yourself to.

You steel yourself as you prepare to drive back to your motel, but second-guess it when you remember that Bradley has his phone with him. You have each other shared on Find My Friends, and he doesn’t normally check it unless he’s worried about your safety, but you’re paranoid that he’ll find your pin at a crappy motel and know something is wrong. So you punch in Bradley’s address instead, the one you used to share with him, still labeled as ‘home’, and set off.

The drive looks familiar in no time, and it reminds you of how much you’d missed it. The big oak tree on your neighbor’s lawn, the flag perpetually at half-mast because the man across the street fell while adjusting it and never fixed it, the tricycle on the sidewalk beside your front door that the toddler next door always seemed to leave on your walkway. You check the mail and feel something stabbing at your chest when your name is on one of the letters, and your house key is cold with disuse as you slide it into the slot.

You hesitate when the doorknob turns beneath your fingers. Walking into Bradley’s space will tell you exactly how he feels about what happened between you. There’s either going to be empty bottles strewn everywhere with pictures laying around covered in tear stains, or there’s going to be a hot pink bra in his bed, and a new woman’s makeup kit in his bathroom. Hell, maybe she’ll even still be there, maybe you’re about to walk in on your replacement.

But the promise you’d made to yourself in the car wasn’t for show, and you turn the knob after taking a deep breath, stepping into the darkened home.

You call out an uncertain ‘hello?’ into the place, waiting with bated breath for a woman’s voice to respond. But it never does, and you flick the light on beside the door.

You’d been right with one of your guesses.

It’s messy. Not exactly the outwardly disastrous type of messy you’d imagined earlier, but knowing all of the little things about Bradley means that you know he’s let himself go over the past two weeks. His running shoes are gathering dust by the door, which seems to suggest that he’s been lazing in bed just like you have. The living room is pristine, the pillows all arranged the way you set it up that Bradley doesn’t care to replicate, and you wonder if he’s sat on the couch at all the entire time since you’ve been gone. There’s no grocery list on the fridge and upon further inspection, the appliance is close to empty, one lonely beer left alongside ketchup, mustard, and a rotting head of lettuce. Unless he was eating the worst burgers known to man, you don’t think he’s been eating anything from the kitchen. Your heart aches for Bradley; you hope he’s been ordering food in.

Walking through the space is like revisiting a crime scene as the killer. Everything here is because of you, the pictures stripped from the walls are gone because of you, the lonely toothbrush in the dual holder is because of you, the neatly made side of the bed with its messy counterpart is because of you. 

You realize that it’s your side that’s slept on, Bradley’s still tucked neatly in place, unused. You spot a red covering over your pillow, reaching for it and finding it to be an old t-shirt of yours that Bradley had raided your dresser drawers for. It’s one he’d bought you at a tourist trap on your vacation a few years ago, and it was your favorite to lounge in. You notice a dark spot on the fabric and only then realize that you’re crying, that it’s a tear that had fallen from your eye. Then it’s like everything hits you all at once, and you sink onto the mattress clutching the pillow. It smells like Bradley, and you know he’s been clinging to it every night, a thought that solidifies your sneaking suspicion that you might be the worst person on the planet.

You curl up and cry there, you don’t know for how long. All you can do is sob, soak your pillow with tears that you thought you were out of, clutch the bedsheets like they’ll reveal Bradley, hidden underneath and eager for a cuddle. This bed feels as empty as the motel’s had, maybe even emptier, because you’ve never slept in it away from Bradley. When he’s on deployment you always have a sweatshirt of his and a picture of him tucked under the pillow, but you know it won’t be there now. Now you’re alone, really alone. 

Your eyes droop and you know you need sleep, especially if you’re going to wake up early to make Bradley cookies in time for visiting hours to start. But you can’t bring yourself to sleep without the picture of him under his pillow, so you stumble out of bed to fetch it from your box of memories.

Your fingers close around the slightly wrinkled photo, a shot of you in a gown and Bradley in a suit. It’s one you’d taken yourself at your graduation, high school turned college sweethearts. He had wanted admission into the Naval Academy, but in order to spend more time with you, you’d enrolled together at a university. It’s your favorite photo to have with you, and you reach out to Bradley’s pillow to slide it underneath. Upon lifting the pillow, you find a stack of pictures already there. Each one of you, most with Bradley pictured in them too. They only make you cry harder, and you recognize some as the inserts of the picture frames that had been taken down from the hallway.

It looks like Bradley hoarded photos of you, and some are stiff and stained with tears. The sight is something out of a movie, a dramatic indication of the inner turmoil of its main character. You see a shot of your silhouettes together, faces darkened by the sun streaming in behind you. You’re kissing on the beach, and without paying much mind to the structural integrity of the photo, you clutch it to your chest.

You’re a wreck. You just want your Bradley back, but your Bradley isn’t yours anymore. You want three-weeks-ago Bradley back, the one who you didn’t run away from. But he’ll probably have his memories back by tomorrow, and there’s no telling if he’d even want you to visit again. Looking at the sorry state of his apartment, you know he misses you, but whether he wants you back is another question altogether. All you can do is wait and worry, and worry you do. As you sob and heave in the bed, your brain shuts down, and eventually you drift into a dreamless, unpleasant sleep, nose still buried in your shirt that smells like Bradley.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[watermelonlovershigh]

Not So Patient After All {part. 13} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

"You've been a real, bad, boy." {part. 12} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

AN: i know, i know. full subrry will appear in the next chapter, i promise. after chapter 12 i thought this part would have him in it but then i came up with this idea and instead of making it too long, decided to make it 2 separate chapters. i hope you still enjoy!!!

This story contains: female masturbation w/ toy, sending nudes, sex, mild dirty talk, ass slapping, use of butt plugs, more sex

{ housemate!harry - boyfriendrry - soft!harry - teacher!harry - subrry }

word count- 2,628

You get impatient after your sex toys arrive and one day while Harry's at work, decide to use one and send him a naughty photo in the process. This leads him to pretend he's mad at you and two rounds of sex, one of which only happens because he gets hard again after you request that he wears one of his new butt plugs.

"Harry, Harry, Harry!" you call out your boyfriends name repeatedly as you move through the house carrying multiple packages. The toys you purchased a week ago have finally been delivered, and you are beaming with excitement. Bursting into your bedroom, you find Harry still asleep under your covers. Unable to contain your joy, you leap onto the bed, causing the boxes to tumble across the mattress, and playfully pounce on his sleeping body.

Harry's quick to pull the blankets over his head and groans in a raspy voice. "Mhm, what? What'd you want? M' sleepin'."

Rolling off his body, you explain, "Our toys came, Harry."

He reluctantly pulls the covers off his head and does a morning stretch, before fully waking up and becoming alert. Harry opens his eyes and glances around the bed, noticing you sitting beside him, with several small boxes scattered at the foot of the bed. "That's nice, but could you come give me a cuddle, please?"

You rush down and slip under the blankets on your bed, snuggling against Harry's warm body. Quietly, you ask, "Aren't you looking forward to our new toys?" Now you feel a little self-conscious about how happy you were when you discovered your deliveries had arrived.

"Baby, m'very happy. S'just, it's a Wednesday. I have work today. We can't use them until we have more time."

"Oh," you say disappointedly, not having thought of that.

Harry senses your disappointment and suggests a plan. He offers, "Tell you what, when Friday rolls around, I'll let you try out some of the toys on me. I know I'm due for my punishment, baby. You can wreck me and then Saturday I'll have time to stay home and recover since I don't work weekends"

Agreeing, you nod. "Okay, sounds like a plan. Sorry I got so excited. Just can't wait to use my new strap-on on you."

"No apologizing, m'love. It's okay you got excited. M' excited too, but we have to be patient."

After cuddling for a few more minutes, you sit up and proceed to open each box to simply glance inside and see what each item looks like. The excitement of seeing your new toys increases your happiness, but you must keep in mind that you need to be patient, or as patient as possible.

Then realizing the time, Harry scrambles out of bed to get ready for work before he's late.

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

Your patience persisted from Wednesday all the way through Thursday morning. Yet, as noon approached on Thursday, you were suddenly consumed by a powerful feeling of horniness. With Harry still at work and unable to offer any assistance, you tried hard to ignore the throbbing sensation between your legs. However, you became so wet that you had no choice but to change your panties, as they had become drenched from your heightened state of arousal.

When your second pair of panties get damp, you'd had enough and get up to go try your new rose vibrator. You feel guilty since Harry isn't here but technically there was never a rule that you couldn't masturbate when he wasn't home. Even if there was, you'd still secretly do it if you needed to bad enough.

After laying a towel on the bed, you undress and settle into a comfortable position. Taking hold of your new rose vibrator, you direct it towards your clit. While the rose was new to you, you were no stranger to suction toys. The moment you switch on the rose toy and place it in the right spot, you nearly jump off the bed due to your sensitivity.

Unlike the rest of your suction vibrators, this one provides a sensation similar to when a human sucks on the clit. While laying on the bed, you hold the rose vibrator against your clitoris, feeling your breath quicken and your wetness increase. In less than two minutes, you're already on the verge of orgasm. But before reaching that peak, you decide to turn off the toy for a second and engage in a bit of teasing with Harry.

You grab your phone and open the camera. In one hand you place your rose back on your clit and your other hand holds your phone. You snap a few photos and quickly send the best looking one to Harry before laying your phone down and getting back to business. Right as you're about to actually come, your phone dings beside you.

Opening your messages, you read Harry's reply and smile evilly.

Harry- Y/n, I'm working!!! You can't be sending me photos like that when I'm at work. Do you know how weird it'd be if I got hard in front of 10 and 11 year olds??? They'd be trying to send me to JAIL!!!

You- oops 🤪

After sending off your response, you complete your task at hand. With all the edging you've done in the past hour, you quickly climax upon switching the vibrator back on. A wave of relief washes over you as the pent-up sexual energy is released. Now feeling tired, you quickly clean yourself up and crawl under your blankets naked, drifting off for a short nap.

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

Harry comes home to a quiet house. He knows you're home because your car is out front. So he does some searching and finds you asleep in your bed. At first glance you look normal, but shortly after making his way over to you, he realises you're naked under your duvet. Probably from not having the energy to get dressed after masturbating earlier.

He wants to be mad that you touched yourself without him being here, but can't. The one thing he's never cared about is his partners pleasuring themselves while he's gone. As long as they think about him while doing it, he's all for self pleasure. But, to be cheeky and mess with you a bit, he'll pretend like he's mad at your actions.

You feel a tap on your shoulder and slowly open your eyes, seeing Harry standing over you. You do a big stretch, your breasts popping out of the covers, and relax back into the mattress. Making grabby hands, you whine, "Come cuddle with meeee."

He shakes his head in disagreeance. "Nope, you decided to touch yourself while I was at work, meanin' you obviously don't need me, so.... m' gonna go shower, along. You've been a very bad girl, Y/n."

You observe Harry leaving your room without looking back, and suddenly feel a wave of sadness. His intentions are unclear to you. So in order to avoid possibly upsetting him further, you opt to remain in bed for a few more minutes until your stomach rumbles, prompting you to rise and head to the kitchen where you'll begin preparing dinner. However, you make sure to put some clothes on first.

As Harry was taking a shower, he had a feeling that you might come and try to join him. He was actually hoping that you would defy his request and still shower with him. But, when you didn't show up, he realizes that you must have taken his words seriously.

After he's finished showering, he follows the aroma of food being prepared in the kitchen and discovers you chopping vegetables on the kitchen island. You gaze up at Harry with a deep frown as he enters the kitchen and whisper, "Are you genuinely bothered that I touched myself? You've never mentioned having that rule. Just so you know though, I was thinking of you while doing it. And I didn't watch any porn."

Harry walks over to you from behind and wraps his arms around you, letting you catch a whiff of his fruity shampoo and vanilla body wash. "Baby, I was just kiddin'. M' not really mad that you masturbated. I don't care if you touched yourself, we all do it from time to time. As long as I know you were thinkin' of me and I wasn't around, m' fine with it. Now, if I was around and you purposefully didn't ask me to help, I'd be a little hurt, but...".

Breathing a sigh of relief, you reply, "Oh, thank God. Because even if you had that rule, I'd still touch myself if you weren't home and I was horny enough."

"Hey," Harry shouts playfully, unwrapping his arms from around you, "now I might make it a rule, just because you said that."

"Whatever."

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

Later that night after everything else is done, you both end up in Harry's bed having sex. It's neither aggressive nor extremely gentle, just your standard, basic sex. Nonetheless, it is satisfying. It starts out with you on top, riding Harry, but then you express fatigue and he carefully lays you down and takes charge.

"Poor baby, too tired to ride m'cock." he mocks while thrusting into you at a constant speed.

You playfully slap his ass and Harry nearly topples over you, moaning super loud. You didn't realise a barely hard slap would have such effects on him. "Oh you liked that, didn't you, hm?"

He nods his head where it rests against your collarbone and answers, "Yes, do it again, please." You rear back your hand and slap his ass cheek harder this time, loving to watch his white flesh jiggle and turn red. "Oh fuck, m' gonna come." Before he allows himself to come though, he slips his hand between your bodies and starts aggressively rubbing your clit against his fingers.

"Ahh, Harry!!!" you cry out, your back arching as you come all over his cock and fingers. He continues his stimulation until you literally start crying from overstimulation. Harry removes his fingers from your sensitive clit but continues thrusting as he finally allows himself to let go and orgasm. His thrusts become weak and uncoordinated as he ejaculates deep inside you.

Once his orgasm diminishes, Harry's heavy body plops down on top of you, almost knocking the wind from your lungs. You both lay there in post-orgasm bliss until you have an idea. When buying your toys on Amazon a few days ago, Harry mentioned how he can sleep with the black silicone butt plug due to its flexibility. And tomorrow you will be fucking his ass. So what if he sleeps with it tonight to make sure he's nice and stretched for you tomorrow. You'd hate to hurt him in anyway.

"Harry?" you say, breaking the rooms silence.

Still breathing rather heavy with his head resting on your chest, he answers, "Yeah, baby?"

"Do you think you could sleep with that silicone butt plug in tonight? You know, because of what's gonna happen tomorrow, I want you to be well stretched so I don't hurt you. And..... I've never seen anyone wear one so I'm kinda curious as to what they look like inside someone."

Your question causes Harry to sit upright. Despite his belief that he doesn't need any actual stretching beforehand, it has been quite some time since he last had anything up his ass, and he would prefer to take precautions. Additionally, the fact that you've never observed someone using and wearing a butt plug serves as extra motivation for him to demonstrate the process.

"Of course, but um, let me just, you know, go to the bathroom and ensure that m' finished using it for the night and that m' completely clean down there. Then I'll come back and you can either assist with the insertion or observe me doin' it."

You nod eagerly as Harry gets up from the bed naked and goes to the bathroom. He remembers a previous incident involving a butt plug and a need to use the toilet, so he makes sure he doesn't have to go to the bathroom in order to prevent a recurrence. After checking his hygiene, he goes back to the bedroom where you have the butt plug and lube set out.

As Harry walks up to the bed, soft cock slightly swinging between his legs, you ask, "Can you do it and I just watch. I'm kinda nervous."

"Sure baby, but nothin' to be nervous about. It's just me, and I'd tell you if you were hurtin' me in anyway. But I can do it and you watch." He climbs onto the bed, still naked from your previous activities, and tries to decide what position he'd prefer to be in, on his knees or layed back with his legs up. He ultimately decides to lay on his back.

Harry settles into position, arranging pillows behind his back against the headboard and spreads his legs. Anxiously, you pass him the lube and butt plug, watching intently as he begins. Despite your initial desire for him to wear it and the upcoming anal sex, you find yourself feeling nervous. Excited, yet nervous. You've never gave anal to anyone before. Mostly because all the men you've been with in the past were too straight and thought negatively on the act.

With the bottle of lube in hand, Harry applies a liberal amount to the bulbous tip of the butt plug using his fingers, followed by wiping any excess off around his tight hole. You adjust your position to sit facing him, allowing you to witness the entire process. You observed how he delicately moves his flaccid cock out of the way and how he carefully goes to insert the lubricated plug into his slick opening. Just before Harry pushes it in, he looks up at you with a soft yet mischievous grin.

He has always harbored a hidden desire for either observing someone engage in self-touch or being observed while engaging in self-touch. Although not solely for pleasure, the act remains deeply intimate, and your observation right now nearly reignites his arousal.

With a deep breath, he relaxes his muscles and slowly starts to insert the butt plug into his ass. The lubricant prevents any pain during the process, despite the stretching sensation. You watch as his anus takes in the butt plug effortlessly, except for the heart-shaped diamond on the end, which sets nicely against his hole. Looking up at Harry's face, you see a slight scrunch, not from pain, but from relief.

"Mhm, fuck, that felt good." Harry annonces, his muscles turning to mush on the bed now that he's finished inserting the butt plug. You smile at him widely, about to speak when he suddenly grunts in what sounds like frustration. "No," he whines, "m' hard again. Too sensitive to be hard again."

Glancing down, you see his flaccid cock no longer flaccid, but half hard. The process of inserting the butt plug in his ass combine with you watching him, it turned him on again.

You let out a giggle and propose, "We could have sex again? Just slower this time. Get all comfy under the covers, turn the lights out, and when we finish, fall asleep naked. Hm?"

Though Harry knows it'll be slightly painful at first from how sensitive his dick is from his previous orgasm, he agrees with a nod. You climb out of bed to turn the lights off, then crawl back under the covers so your plan can unravel.

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

Thirty very sweaty minutes later, you're both knocked out cold in each others arms. Two rounds of sex was almost too much for one night. Not to mention that last round of sex was extremely pleasurable for Harry since he had a butt plug in. Wearing a butt plug during sex always felt super good in his opinion. It stimulated his prostate while giving him that full feeling he longed for sometimes.

Now you just wait until tomorrow night where the pleasure will be upped ten-folds when you fuck him with your new pretty pink strap-on.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(if you want to be apart of my new tag list, let me know right here !! )

tag list: @swiftmendeshoran // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @hsonlyangelxo

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

Long Awaited Punishment {part. 14}

[omagpies]

hey have you considered a potential curlayna child wanting to be an astronaut and the both of them nearly have a heart attack... kthxbai

okay your ask sparked a conversation between me and @cyanidecrystal so here goes:

(slightly recolored james mcavoy faceclaim lmaooo) this is Yuri, they/them;

(sidenote: this drawing is retroactively about baby yuri now)

they grow up only knowing a very, very sanitized version of what happened on the tulpar; while PE had no finances to cover up the story, the company producing the ships did, so even the initial splash of news was quickly suppressed and only remains as sporadic bits free floating in the infosphere. curlanya only tell them the bare bones of it, but since their family relationships are solid, yuri sees no reason not to take their word for it.

what does win is curiosity, and yuri does end up trying to dig things up just to know more about their family. the blurry, low res picture of post-crash curly they manage to find is written off as either one of the dead crew members, or perhaps even something generated by AI.

as a child, yuri already proudly declares that they are going to become an astronaut; curly and anya by then still haven't set foot in a spaceship or even a plane, so they sweat nervously but ascribe it more to a childhood whim (i'm going to be an astronaut AND a president AND a garbage truck driver)

it is not, in fact, a childhood whim

as yuri is growing up, their interest becomes more prominent. curlanya, excellent parents overall, make their first serious blunder and try their best to discourage them from pursuing a career in space

of course, it means that yuri ends up going behind their backs and sneaking off on a short-ish trip (think a jupiter moon, not even leaving the system) as an intern. they text them right before they lose signal, something like 'hey, remember you said you'll make it up for me for not letting me go on that school trip? (it involved a transcontinental flight) i've got it covered now so no worries, see you in a week!'

someone on the trip recognizes yuri's last name, asks if they are related to curly. yuri is surprised by this, deeply unaware that curly had a solid reputation as a captain and a pilot back in the day.

the trip ends up taking a little longer. during it, yuri sustains a minor injury for reasons of being a goober. something benign like a mild burn or a blackeye, so they come back wearing a temporary eye patch and supremely chuffed about finally looking at least a little like dad

curlanya do not react well. they don't yell or anything, but they are Weird, and it's not the reaction yuri was expecting. they don't know how on earth this is such a big deal to them.

(meanwhile, curlanya are severely triggered by literally everything about this and are in the process of discovering that all the trauma they thought to have processed has not, in fact, been fully processed, and their kid is now making them face it on hard mode)

they do end up having an argument about it. yuri is upset and offended and says some things they probably shouldn't, like 'just because you had an accident doesn't mean i will, and you're fine anyway!' (in their defence, everything happened so long ago, and curly's had years to recover by now)

perhaps they even say something like 'i'd rather get into a crash than stay at home doing nothing like you'

yuri is forbidden from sneaking away again, so of course that's what they do.

this time, however, when someone asks them if they know curly, the person ends up telling them a fuller story of what happened. with a fresh and exciting degree of understanding of why their parents are Like That, yuri is forced to sit with their feelings until the trip is over. forced to think over all the jabs they'd thrown their parents' way because they didn't understand.

after that second trip, the three of them finally sit down to have an honest conversation. curlanya still omit some details (like anya's assault), but since yuri really does want to work in space, it's time for them to reckon with their paranoia. their trauma must not define the life of their child.

yuri asks curly how he'd lived. curly smiles and says that he doesn't know either, yuri would have to ask their mother about that.

from then on, they learn to support yuri. whatever breakdowns they have, happen when it's just the two of them.

curlanya are both emotionally involved parents, but this is where curly becomes a little more closed off and lets anya take the reins. he doesn't want to bombard their kid with his problems, so he sticks more to logistics.

(for example, obsessively looking up every crew member of every trip yuri goes on. no background goes unchecked)

eventually, yuri invites them to come on board the ship they're now working on. after much hesitation, curlanya agree. curly is allowed into the cockpit (recognized by name if not by face) and reckons with the strange mix of nostalgia and despair. the equipment is just different enough to not send him into a fully blown flashback, but he does have to make his excuses and go hyperventilate in the bathroom.

it's a real moment of growing up for yuri, when they goes to find their father and see him so helpless. it's a gradual process, a series of 'god, i never knew it was this hard for you guys to accept this'

the more they understand that, the more they, too, understand how much their parents love them and how much their support costs them

still, learning more about the accident doesn't pass without a trace for yuri. for a while, they are uncertain if this is what they really want to do. ('i think i saw a picture of you after the crash. tell me it was a fake')

anya wins that day. her trauma wasn't as obvious to strangers, wasn't gawked at or paraded like curly's. it's easier for her to think rationally about this. and after all of it, she wants yuri to chase their dream

(maybe yuri even writes a resignation letter for their company and tells anya about it. after their heart to heart, anya tells curly, and he calls the company and tells them not to process it just yet. yuri stays on the roster.)

eventually, of course, the cat is out of the bag, and someone callous enough to bring it up asks yuri about the assault and if they are a result of it.

deeply distraught, yuri doesn't immediately clock that the math doesn't math. all they can think of is that they might be the child of their mother's assailant. that curly might not be their father.

they come with it to curlanya, and that's when they finally show yuri a picture of curly from before the crash.

yuri has always thought they took after their mother in pretty much everything except eye color. now, they find a blond version of themself looking back at them, and it feels like coming home.

[merrybloomwrites]

I Like to Watch - Harry x Louis x Reader

Summary: When you're boyfriends ignore you on a day you thought you'd spend together, you begin to act out. The punishment doesn't go as planned, leading to the boys taking care of you after.

Word Count: 4K

CW: BDSM themes, dom/sub themes, spanking, punishment, use of safeword, subspace, subdrop, aftercare

AN: This story contains BDSM themes but is in no way a rulebook for these types of relationships. Always do your research before taking part in a dynamic like this. All aspects in play are discussed by the characters and agreed upon prior to the story.

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

There are a fair number of people that know about your relationship with Harry and Louis. Your families, close friends, some lawyers and members of Harry and Louis’s respective teams. 

But no one, not even your best friends, know about that special part of your relationship. It’s a secret the three of you protect wholeheartedly. Because if someone were to slip up and reveal that the three of you were dating, and have been for almost three years, well that you guys could handle. But if the whole world discovered you also dabbled in BDSM? That would be much harder to come back from, and the consequences to both of your boyfriends careers could be devastating. 

So you keep this information just between the three of you. It brings you even closer together, having something that is just for you. 

It started about a year after the three of you were officially together. And it started subtly. Little ways in which Louis would act in the bedroom. It was clear quite quickly that Louis is purely dominant in nature. He never submitted to either of you. You know this need to be in charge comes from years of being told what to do by management. So much of his life is dictated by other people, and this is the one place he can take complete control.

Harry sometimes feels this way as well. Occasionally, he’ll help Louis and the two of them will be the perfect pair of doms for you. Other times, he needs to turn his brain off, and spends a night submitting to Louis alongside you. 

But you always submit. In the bedroom, at least. For you it’s a lovely escape to let the two men you love and trust have control of you. When it comes to your relationship, you’re in charge of most of the day to day life stuff. You do the cooking, the cleaning, the scheduling, all of the at home mental load falls on your shoulders. 

But when the three of you do a scene together, you can just let go and take what they’re giving. You’re aware that technically the submissive truly runs how the scene goes, that if you’re uncomfortable about anything Louis will immediately stop to check on you. 

Due to their busy schedules it’s hard to find time to do scenes together. They take time and planning, and Louis always wants a free day after, in case you or Harry falls deep in subspace and needs extra time to recover the next day. Of course you all have plenty of vanilla sex, but the more intense stuff only happens on occasion. 

The last scene you all did together, in which Louis and Harry tied you up, edged you until you were crying, then made you come multiple times, was almost three weeks ago. Which is maybe what caused you to start acting out. 

You wake up on a beautiful Friday morning, the start of a three day weekend with nothing planned. You’d hinted the night before that it would be a good opportunity for a little extra fun, but you’re not sure they got the message. The bed is empty, no warm body next to you, no fingers gently rubbing your back, no lips meeting yours in a good morning kiss.

So no, not exactly how you’d hoped to wake up.

You decide to get dressed before heading downstairs. If Louis and Harry can’t bother to lay with you in bed on a day off, they certainly don’t deserve to see you in your panties and t-shirt, a sight they both adore. 

The kitchen is empty, no sign of either of your boyfriends. Disappointed by their absence, you grab a banana, a bowl of cereal, and brew yourself some tea. 

After finishing your breakfast you clean up, and try to locate the boys. It’s weird that they’re hidden away; normally days without work mean the three of you doing everything together. It takes a minute for you to find Louis. He’s in the home office, and when you peek in to say hi he holds up a finger, telling you to wait since he’s on a phone call. 

Bothered by the obvious brush off, you keep searching, and finally find Harry in the studio. “Good morning love,” he says. “I woke up with an idea and just have to get this on paper before I forget. I’ll be out soon,” he continues before turning back to his notebook. 

Well, at least he looked you in the eyes and spoke to you. Bare minimum in your mind. 

Feeling very put out, you walk back to the living room. Sitting on the couch, you scan the walls. You thought you had finished decorating this room months ago, but something about it has been bothering you. It felt like something was missing. 

Finally, you decide that it’s the huge blank spot on the one wall. It needs a piece of artwork to fill in the space. For the next half hour you scour the internet and find the absolute perfect piece. Just the right size, color pattern matching the palate of the room, and the art style exactly what you all like. The only issue is the price. 

Not that there wasn’t enough money in your shared account to more than cover it. But technically you’d finished decorating the house already. So anything else that’s considered a big ticket item needs to be discussed between the three of you. 

The first thing you do is reach out to the seller to express interest. At least get the ball rolling until you could talk to the boys. After a few minutes of back and forth emailing, you learn there’s another interested buyer. So now there’s a time constraint or you’ll lose the piece. 

Another hour passes with no signs of either of them, and you make the executive decision to seal the deal. With confirmation that the painting is now yours, you feel slightly better. 

Realizing that you probably need to entertain yourself a bit longer you grab the book you’re reading and settle in. Two chapters later you finally hear Louis voice call out, “Love, where are you?”

Despite your annoyance at being brushed off earlier, you can’t help but smile when he walks in the room. 

“There you are,” he says. “I just got an alert about a purchase for over 6 grand on one of our cards. Do you know anything about that or is it a potential scam?”

Of course. That’s what got his attention. You keep the smile on your face so as to not look guilty for breaking a rule and explain, “That was me. I found a painting that will finally complete this room. Even Harry said it felt like something was missing.”

“Okay, but you’re supposed to talk about big purchases with us first,” he replies. 

“There was another buyer. I had to act fast and you two were both so busy I didn’t want to interrupt.” There. Now you look like a thoughtful girlfriend.

 “Alright, just make sure we can have a conversation before you buy anything else that’s not a necessity. I’ve got a couple more calls to make before I can wrap up for the day.”

Louis walks away, and your good mood leaves with him. How dare he come out just to lecture you? And he didn’t even look at the painting you chose. He didn’t even greet you, or give you a good morning kiss. 

And looking at the clock, it’s actually already afternoon. And you’ve barely seen your boyfriends. On a day that they weren’t supposed to be working. 

Letting out an annoyed sigh you get up to make yourself lunch. You take your time, grilling some veggies and chicken as well as making a dressing and putting together a delicious salad. You eat slowly out on the patio, phone propped in front of you playing your favorite show. 

Eventually the door opens and both Harry and Louis walk out to join you. 

“You ate lunch without us?” Harry asks. 

“It’s almost 2 in the afternoon,” you reply. 

“Shit, is it really that late?” Louis says. 

“Yea, I finished eating a while ago. I’m gonna go clean up. There’s more of everything in the fridge if you want to make your own.” With that you grab your plate and walk inside. You wash your dishes, taking out some of your irritation by scrubbing everything meticulously. 

The boys come back inside and Harry says, “We’re gonna run into town for a little bit, got a couple of things to pick up. We’ll be back by 4.” They each give you one quick kiss, and just like that, they’re gone and you’re left all alone. Again. 

Since they would be gone for two hours you decide to put in a movie to pass the time. Normally you would clean, or organize, do something productive. But you had finished all the chores yesterday expecting to be busy hanging with the boys today. But no, they were too busy for you. 

You grow more frustrated, and by the time the movie is halfway over you’ve come up with a plan. 

See, normally you would never do what you’re about to do. The dynamic that the three of you have is mostly reserved for when you specifically do scenes. But you do have a couple rules to follow all the time, the most important being: your pleasure belongs to them. Meaning that touching yourself without their permission is not allowed. 

And you like that rule. You’d rather get off with them than alone. Masturbating used to be a chore to you, just a means to an end. Orgasms are just so much better when Louis or Harry (or both of them) is the cause. 

But right now you don’t care. If they’re not going to give you pleasure, you’ll do it yourself. Rules be damned. 

You turn the movie off and go to the bedroom. It’s been a while since you’ve done this, and it feels a little silly when you start. But after removing your clothes and laying on the bed you shut your eyes and just do what feels natural. 

You go slow, starting by teasingly running your fingertips along your skin. Time passes, and you’re lost in these touches, hands moving to your breasts, then down to gently rub against your clit. 

But just as you’re really getting into it, you hear a voice next to the bed say, “And what do you think you’re doing?” You startle, not having heard the boys get home. However there’s no denying Louis standing there looking quite serious. Harry is next to him, intrigued and maybe a little excited, like he knows what’s going to happen next. 

“I asked you a question,” Louis says. 

“I’m taking care of myself,” you reply, an edge of sass in your tone. 

“You know you’re not supposed to do that without my permission. That’s the second rule you’ve broken today. Almost like someone wants to be punished.”

Maybe he isn’t wrong. Maybe you were acting out on purpose. Either way, it looks like you’re finally getting what you want: their attention. 

“Lay on the bed, on your stomach, hands holding onto the rails of the headboard,” he commands.

“Yes sir,” you reply before doing as told. You feel vulnerable, laying there naked while they’re still fully dressed. But part of you likes that, thrives on that power dynamic, loves the embarrassment that comes with being so exposed. 

“Harry?” Louis says. 

“Yes, sir?” Harry replies. Okay, so Harry wants to sub today too. The easiest tell is simply how he addresses Louis. Using his proper title means Harry wants to give up some control today as well. 

“You’ve been a good boy lately. Though you did wear a shirt that says ‘I like to watch’ at the ballet last week. Very cheeky of you. Still not enough for a punishment so how about some pleasurable torture? Have you sit on the chair in the corner and watch as I punish our girl and then reward her after. Listen to her sweet sounds and not be able to do anything about it. Maybe tie you to the seat and give you a gag so you’re not tempted to misbehave. How does that sound?”

“Good, sir,” comes Harry’s breathless reply. 

“What’s your color?” Louis asks. 

“Green.”

“For which parts?”

“All of it,” Harry replies without pause. “Green for the restraints, green for the gag. I watch to watch without touching.”

“Very well. Sit on the chair. Clothes stay on.” There’s a lot of noise behind you as Harry does as he’s told. You hear Louis ask Harry if it’s too tight, to which Harry replies, “No, it’s perfect.” Okay, so Harry is now tied to the chair. You could turn and watch what’s happening, but you don’t have permission to and the last thing you should do right now is break another rule. 

“And you still want the gag?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright. How do you give your color when you can’t speak?”

“With the clicker,” Harry answers. There’s more movement then Louis says, “Practice your colors. What is green?” You hear one click. “And yellow?” Two clicks. “Red?” You hear multiple rapid clicks, the unspoken signal for red. 

“Good boy,” Louis says, and you hate that Harry is getting praised when you’re getting punished. It’s not fair. 

“And now for our naughty girl,” Louis says, much closer than before but still standing out of your view. “What should I do with you?”

Your belly tingles, with nerves, with excitement, with arousal. It’s always crazy to you, how a scene can fill you with so many contrasting feelings. 

Louis hand gently slides along your bum, this first touch nearly electric after being left alone for so long. “I think we’ll stick to a classic today. A spanking to remind you who’s in control here.”

You’re almost shocked at the simplicity. It’s been a while since you’ve been spanked, the three of you often doing more creative punishments. But you find yourself craving it. You don’t love the pain, since you don’t really have a pain kink. However you do love how perfectly submissive it makes you feel. Laying out, bare ass on display turning redder each time Louis hand or paddle comes in contact with your skin. And the aftercare is always wonderful, soft hand rubbing lotion on your stinging skin, quiet praises of how well you did, and hours of cuddles. 

For all of these reasons you reply with a quick, “Green, sir,” when Louis asks for your color. 

“Very well. I’m going to warm up with my hand,” Louis informs you. 

His hand, which had been resting on you, is removed, and you brace yourself for the first smack. When it doesn’t come for a few seconds you relax. Big mistake. 

Sharp slaps are given to both of your cheeks, and you let out an involuntary gasp. You quickly clamp your mouth shut, afraid you’ll get in more trouble for making a sound. Louis notices and says, “You may make noises, but I don’t want to hear you speak unless it’s to call a color. You can always color at any time, understand?” He’s gentler at the end, slipping out of his dominant persona for a second to reassure you.

“I understand, sir,” you reply, knowing these are the last words you’ll be speaking for a bit. 

He gives no warning before raining a series of smacks, alternating cheeks and making sure to get full coverage so no skin is left untouched. After what feels like hours but is probably only a couple minutes, he stops, hands gently rubbing the skin once again. 

You’re already feeling a little floaty, and it’s nice to sink into this special mindset. You hadn’t realized how guilty you felt about breaking the rules, but knowing that you’re going to be forgiven after the punishment has you feeling lighter. 

“You’re doing well. I’m going to switch to the paddle now. I’m thinking 6 per side for the extravagant purchase this morning, and another 6 per side for touching yourself without permission. So 24 total with the paddle. What is your color?”

“Green, sir,” you reply, your voice taking on an airy quality and alerting Louis that you’re starting to slip. He checks your face and sees no signs of pain or distress, and can tell that it’s the good kind of floatiness you’re feeling. 

The first hit comes, and it’s more intense than you remember. You don’t love the paddle, you prefer Louis' hand since then you can feel him. But you’re not supposed to like it. This is a punishment after all, and once you get through these spanks, you won’t have to feel guilty. And you’ll get a reward. So it’s all worth it. 

A few more smacks come, and you slip further into subspace with each thud of the paddle against your sore bottom. Your surroundings start to blur, all you can feel are the sheets below you and the wood of the paddle, all you hear is the repetitive swing and thud of it moving through the air. 

The feelings of loneliness from earlier start to flood back in. You remember how much you wanted to hear the boys, see them, feel them touching you. And they’re still not there. 

You think they came in the room with you, but now everything is fuzzy. What if they’re not actually there? Did your mind make that up? What if some awful machine is controlling the paddle and it just keeps hitting you forever? 

You aren’t aware of the sounds you’re making, how your quiet grunts turn into gasping breaths, but Louis notices. The swats stop and finally you hear Louis' voice, but it sounds like it’s coming from underwater. 

“What’s your color?” He asks. 

You know you should answer, that one word will make this stop, but you can’t think of what it is. 

“Baby, can you tell me what your color is?” He asks again. 

He turns your head so his eyes can see your glazed, unfocused one. When his face finally comes into your view, all you can say is “daddy” through a broken sob. 

Immediately Louis knows what you can’t tell him: that your color is red. Internally he’s kicking himself, mad and disappointed in himself that he pushed you too far, that he didn’t see the signs that it was too much, that you were slipping too deep. 

“It’s okay baby, daddy’s here, I’ve got you,” he says. 

You hear two clicks from the corner of the room, but you can’t currently remember what that means. Louis knows, and he can’t believe he did such a poor job that both his subs needed to color during the same scene. 

“Baby girl, I just need to check on Harry and I’ll be right back.” There’s a shuffling noise, then a piece of fabric is placed on the bed next to you. It’s soft, and smells like Louis. You clutch the sweater in your arms as he walks to the other side of the room. 

“Harry, what’s wrong?” Louis asks as he removes the gag. 

“Nothing, I’m ok, just please untie me so I can help with Y/N,” Harry replies. 

“Okay. Are you in headspace at all?”

“No, completely coherent,” Harry answers. 

You hear the conversation but it has somewhat of a dreamy quality since you’re still so deep in subspace. A moment later, gentle arms are shifting you, dressing you in clean boxers and an oversized t-shirt. Someone lifts you off the bed, before placing you back down so you’re cradled sideways on a lap. 

“Daddy?” You ask.

“I’m here baby,” Louis replies, letting you know that he’s the one holding you. The bed shifts and you watch with bleary eyes as Harry sits against the headboard next to Louis. He lifts your legs to drape them over his lap and runs his hands up and down your shins. 

“How do you feel?” Louis asks. 

“Good,” you sigh. 

“You sure? You were pretty upset just a minute ago baby,” Louis continues. 

“Yea but now you and Harry are here. I just didn’t like being alone.”

“We’ve been here the whole time, lovey,” Harry says, and you try to focus your eyes on his face.

“No you weren’t, you were both gone and I was all alone.”

“Do you mean earlier when we went and ran some errands?” Louis questions. 

“No. Here. Just now. You both left. I couldn’t see you, or hear you or anything. There was no one here and it just hurt because the paddle kept going and I didn’t know if it'd ever stop because neither of you were here to make it end,” you explain with tears starting to roll down your face. 

“It’s okay baby, we’re here, we’ve got you,” Louis says. 

“We’re both here, we’re not going to leave you,” Harry says and he leans over to gently wipe the tears off your cheeks. 

The three of you stay like that, the boys holding you and whispering reassurances that they’re still there. Finally, you start to come up from your subspace. 

“Hi there,” Harry says, seeing your eyes focus on his. 

“Hi,” you shyly reply. 

“You back with us?” Louis asks, his lips pressed against your hair. 

“I’m back,” you confirm. 

“Are you ready to tell us what happened, or do you need some time?” He questions next. 

“I’m ready. I guess I was just sad and upset that you both were too busy for me today. And then it kind of turned into a sensory deprivation thing when I started slipping. I couldn’t see either of you, and no one was making noise, and then when you used the paddle I couldn’t feel you either. My brain just started spiraling and coming up with all of these crazy scenarios. And then I couldn’t call red because I’d convinced myself no one was there to hear it.”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t notice what was happening sooner,” Louis says. “Is there anything extra you need for aftercare?”

“Just stay with me. I need to know you guys are here with me.”

“We can do that,” Louis says. 

“Absolutely, we’re not leaving your side for a second,” Harry adds. 

They keep this promise all weekend. After a few more minutes of cuddling they start the next step of your standard aftercare, getting you juice and a snack, followed by a bath. Louis gently dries you off and rubs lotion on your bottom to help with the sting. 

They spend the rest of the weekend absolutely doting on you. Harry insists on carrying you almost everywhere you go, and cooks all the meals that the three of you enjoy together. 

Saturday is spent mostly in the living room watching movies. You experience a mild sub drop, feeling cold and small, and the boys keep you cocooned in blankets while they take turns holding you in their laps. They keep reassuring you that you're good, that they’re not mad, that they love you. 

Their constant care helps regulate your emotions, and by Sunday you’re feeling better. Your painting arrives and Harry helps hang it. They both compliment it, and everyone agrees it ties the room together perfectly. 

Even though you insist you’re feeling just fine by Sunday evening, they insist on taking Monday off as well. You all go on a scenic drive, windows down to breathe in the fresh air. Harry and Louis surprise you with a packed picnic lunch which you eat in a lovely meadow. 

Two weeks later, when the three of you have your next scene together, Harry and Louis take turns focusing completely on you. This time it’s about your pleasure, them giving you as much of it as you can take, their hands never leaving you for a second as they worship your body together. 

And when you wake up each morning wrapped in their arms, you know everything is going to be just fine.

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

Thank you for reading! I do have two more Harry x Louis x reader stories planned, but requests are open!

[conkers-thecosy]

Hullo! 💛 I know it was a few weeks ago since I posted my fic rec list, but here's the promised compilation of unfinished WIPs that I'd like to recommend, at last! Do give them a look, they're all wonderful! ~ "The Veiled King" by MiraHerondale Bilbo has lost his memory after getting knocked out in Ravenhill, and is found by Thranduil. He’s taken to Mirkwood, unconscious still, to be treated. Upon waking, he discovers he has no memories of the previous year.

Unaware of this development, Thorin and his heirs lie recovering from their wounds and confined to bed rest. Free of the gold madness, the King orders them to search for Bilbo, as the brave burglar is still counted among the many who have disappeared during the fight. Despite this, they find no trace of Bilbo before a terrible snowstorm forces them to abandon their task and accept what they believe to be the hobbit's fate.

The King Under the Mountain mourns and, in the meantime, Bilbo sleeps.

~

"Ambassador To Madness" by @sunnyrosewritesstuff All Bilbo wanted was to be an ambassador to one of the richest kingdoms in Middle Earth. Upon meeting its prince, his opinion is greatly lessened. However, Bilbo still finds himself agreeing to play the part of his consort to help free Erebor from the gold mad Thror. Turns out, Thror may not be as blind as his grandson thinks, and intends to use Bilbo to get rid of Thorin once and for all. ~ "Sleep Alone; Start All Over" by vicious_summer Bilbo had a sudden, cheerful realization. “Oh, my, this must mean you’ve already dealt with the problem of the dragon without me!”

Bofur frowned. “Bilbo, no–”

“Sorry, you haven’t dealt with the dragon?”

Or: the Consort of Erebor loses about seven years of memory. ~ "Golden Hearts Bleed Faster" by @lordoftherazzles Bilbo Baggins, Prince of the Shire, has been left with a kingdom on his back and a ring in his hand after the unexpected death of his parents. Bodyguard Thorin Oakenshield has been brought in to see to the prince’s safety, and do a little investigating of his own on the matter in hopes of coming face to face with the one who turned his mountain, and his life, upside down some years prior. ~ "The Great Ereborian Doily Conspiracy" by @lauramkaye Thorin has always been happy to see Bilbo adopt dwarfish ways, until it is pointed out to him that Bilbo, not actually being a dwarf, might be happier in their marriage if Thorin were to make a bit of effort to adopt some hobbitish ways in turn.

Naturally, Thorin goes about this in a sensible and moderate manner. ~ "Dragonfly" by @edwardallenpoe Snippets of Thorin and Bilbo's life, learning to Heal, learning to Grow, Learning to Trust, and learning to Love, from when they survive, to the beginning of the rest of their lives.

Or; They both love each other and are afraid to tell the other, their plans? To tell everyone else they're together while the other has no idea. ~ "Sparks & Gardens" by @fantasyinallforms Bilbo grew up well-to-do in the peaceful countryside of the shire. Three years after his mother's passing, his father decides to move to London to take up an affluent teaching job at the British museum. Bilbo tries to make the best of his new surroundings and crosses paths with a surly blacksmith named Thorin Oakenshield. Bilbo finds Thorin to be an enigma, and Thorin finds Bilbo to be naive. Soon they will learn that Thorin's mistrust of the elite is based on experiences that lead to his dark past, and Bilbo is not as naive to the evils of the world as he may seem. ~ "Of Cold Hearts" by @domesticgoddesswriter Thorin was at a loss. He was a monster slayer. A killer of all evil creatures who prey on humanity. Including vampires. Especially vampires. He hated vampires. He wouldn't be content until he eradicated every last one of the foul beings.

So what in Mahal's name was he doing sitting here in a dusty armchair next to a cold hearth drinking tea (of all things!) with a (admittedly rather cute) vampire. The same vampire that he came to this old castle to kill. ~ Next time I'll do "canon-verse; all time favourites" Feel free to add your recommendations too, I'm always on the look out for new fic to read! 💛

[sadoeuphemist]

If in danger of being captured, the Cuarrion will take on the appearance of its last victim, assuming it has already consumed enough of their body to facilitate the transformation. It will speak with its victim's tongue, show recognition in their eyes, throw wide their arms in embrace and cry out with all their heart, having been rescued naked and quivering from the beast's den.

Thus discovered, the Cuarrion will allow itself to be led back to civilization to be embraced and wept over and tended to, steadily convalescing, wearing its victim's footsteps to trace out their old habits. As the attentiveness of its companions wanes, the Cuarrion will take the first opportunity to escape back into the wild, taking on its true form again, usually claiming another victim along the way.

If, however, the Cuarrion is kept under constant scrutiny, it will find no opportunity to revert and instead will settle deeper and deeper into its disguise. It no longer needs to hunt: it bears its victim's stomach and intestines and so can subsist happily on their diet. The gestures of familiarity, rather than being second nature to it, will simply become its nature. There are stories of Cuarrion who have lived for decades in the same village, borne children, presided over local festivals, lived to bounce hosts of grandchildren on their knee, been interred in the village cemetery with all the honors befitting an elder of their repute.

There are also stories of Cuarrion who, after decades of peaceful cohabitation, have reverted to their monstrous natures for seemingly no reason at all. When a reason can be located, it is usually some sort of violent shock to the self: a stroke, an assault, an infidelity, the death of a loved one, the uncovering of another Cuarrion.

The ethics of keeping a Cuarrion in captivity are hotly debated. It is difficult to blame the family of a child slain by the Cuarrion, who, having recovered a child in the exact image of theirs, calling out familiar names in a familiar tongue, miraculously alive and whole, will insist on treating it exactly as their child.

Scholars of the Cuarrion's anatomy maintain that even if some vital portion of the victim remains within the beast, it will be inevitably digested over time, as evidenced by the fact that victims who have gone missing weeks prior are found gibbering and semi-feral and must be rehabilitated back into their previous states, if ever; whereas a victim who has gone missing just that day will be found talkative and spry and seemingly unharmed. If the Cuarrion can copy a person identically, the scholars say, it is only through habit and mimicry, blood congealing into the shape of its mold.

If the Cuarrion themselves are asked for input, opinions vary. Most are circumspect. Many prefer not to discuss it at all. The elders among them, who have lived out their lives, tend to speak more freely. "Yes, I consumed the child I was to become who I am, a long time ago, a long time ago," says one, eyes clouded and distant, remembering. "A tragedy, yes. But, eh, so do we all."

[mint-yooxgi]

{13} - Paradise Gardens - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Book Two to Hotel California

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humour

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Focus on Yeosang, Yunho, San, and Mingi)

Words: 10,500

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma and bullying: past suicidal thoughts mentioned, and mention of a lack of self worth, OC runs into an old 'friend' near the beginning, I think that's it honestly. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: So, I decided to split this part into two since I feel it makes the story flow better. I'm happy where I ended it, and I really hope you all look forward to the next few parts! There's quite a lot of story coming your way hehehe As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I don’t do tag lists.

Mini Masterlist - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve

There’s a fond look in your eyes as you stand by yourself in front of the large window overlooking the newborns sleeping soundly before you. The hospital is quiet, given how early in the morning it is, a few staff walking behind you every now and then. Still, you cannot help but watch over little Elijah, even now, ensuring that nothing happens to him while his mother rests with his father in her hospital room.

Born a little over eight hours ago, well into the night, he sleeps soundly. A week late, weighing in at a healthy eight pounds, eleven ounces, they keep him wrapped up while Crystal recovers from giving birth the night before.

When you had gotten the call yesterday, you immediately rushed to the hospital with Seonghwa and the others. You met your parents here, waiting as long as you could before being sent home. Having wanted as natural a birth as possible, Crystal had been in for a long night. 

Much to your content, you discovered Elijah had been born in the early hours of the morning, and had already been checked over for any ailments that might affect him after birth. He had none, and is perfectly healthy according to all of the doctors. A fact which makes you, and all of your family, happy beyond belief.

Currently, Vasco is with Crystal, staying with her after recovery while Elijah sleeps. San has went to grab you both coffees with Mingi, who you asked to stop by and check up on Crystal for you on the way to the café. You want to make sure that she’s fairing well while you check up on your baby nephew for the first time. 

The other guys stayed home, per your request. Of course, a few of them had protested at that - Wooyoung, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong - considering you all don’t know what Malik or Dimitri’s next moves are. However, at your assurance, they backed off. Besides, you have both Mingi and San here with you, and you highly doubt you would be attacked in a hospital.

Still, you’re on high alert. Just in case.

Looking over little Elijah once more as he sleeps, you notice a figure come to stand beside you out of the corner of your eyes. He’s tall, but not as tall as Yunho, with dirty blond hair. He looks familiar, but you don’t pay him much mind. You just wish he’d stop glancing at you every few seconds.

The soft call of your name startles you, and you finally turn to get a good look at the man standing beside you. His blue eyes are hauntingly familiar.

“Hi, Jake.” You give him a small, albeit tight smile.

“I thought it was you, but I wasn’t sure.” He smiles lightly back. “I haven’t seen you since elementary school. How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been well.” You reply softly. “Yourself?”

“Never better,” his eyes crinkle slightly as he turns back to observe the sleeping infants before you. “Is one of them yours?”

He holds a paper coffee cup in his hand, using it to motion before him along the line of babies.

“Oh. No.” You shake your head. “Just a proud aunt watching over her nephew.”

The corner of your lips twitches upwards as you motion to Elijah sleeping soundly before you.

A moment of silence as you cradle your elbows in your hands, almost to the point of curling in on yourself. You clear your throat. “You?”

A brilliant smile lights up his features, his eyes crinkling at the sides as his chest puffs out slightly in pride. He nods in the direction of two girls sleeping side by side. “My wife just had a twins.”

“Oh.” You meet his gaze briefly, offering him a small smile. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” He grins widely, ruffling his hair which already seems quite disheveled. “It would have been your sister, right?”

You blink, pulled out of your own thoughts for the moment. “I’m sorry?”

“Your sister who had the baby,” he motions lightly to Elijah with his cup again. “If I remember correctly.”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” You clear your throat once more. “It was her.”

“Tell her congratulations for me.” He nods.

You swallow the dryness in your throat, shifting from foot to foot. “I will. Thank you.”

You don’t think you’ve ever had an encounter where you’ve felt more awkward in your life. Sure, you could brush up against Mingi’s, or even San’s mental links right now, but it’s not like you’re in danger. You’re just more uncomfortable than anything at the moment, given everything he did to you when you were younger.

“Actually, it must be pure luck that we ran into each other today.” This time, Jake clears his throat, somewhat nervously.

You hum in response, shifting the slightest bit further from him without arousing suspicion.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about the past lately, and it just reminded me that I never apologized to you.”

His statement catches you so off guard, that your hands end up falling to your sides.

“I was a huge asshole to you when we were younger, and I don’t know how much this will mean to you now, but I’m sorry. I wasn’t happy when I was a kid, and I felt you were an easy target to take that out on. I was always jealous of you, and I let that and my anger control my actions. That was not right.” He says, no longer looking towards you, but down at his hands with that coffee cup held in them for dear life. “I regret getting my friends involved to torment you, too. The feeling of them listening to me gave me a sense of power I felt I lacked in my life, and you were the unfortunate victim.”

You swear you’ve stopped breathing, whole body feeling numb as you refuse to so much as look in his direction. Jake was one of the ones who tormented you so much when you were younger, and gave you all of those self doubts, as well as an incredible amount of self hatred. One of the ones who made you believe you were worthless, ugly, and unlovable.

The worst part: he started out as one of your closest friends, too. A close friend who you had cherished above all else, just as you do with all the people you care about.

A worried call of your name greets your ears, and you turn to see San standing to your opposite side, a cup of coffee held in each of his hands. Mingi is nowhere in sight.

There is no hiding the narrowed eyed look San sends Jake’s way as the former comes to stand beside you. He places the cup of coffee in your hand gently before immediately wrapping his now free arm around your waist. Almost instantly, he pulls you into his side.

“You don’t have to forgive me.” Jake continues, and you feel San’s grip around your waist tighten. “It’s been years, and I would understand if you never did. What I did was vile, and inexcusable. Just know, that I am sorry, and I regret it all.” He swallows thickly. “I just thought you should know.”

With a firm nod in acknowledgement towards San, and without another word spoken, Jake takes his leave.

Your eyes follow after him down the hall, watching as he retreats around a corner and out of sight. You don’t even notice Mingi has come to join you until you hear his voice speaking to you.

“Who was that?” There’s a hint of a growl to his words, him taking note of the distressed state you seem to be in at the moment.

You inhale sharply, as if suddenly coming back to the reality before you.

“Starlight?” Immediately, worry takes over Mingi’s features as he looks at you.

Beside you, you can feel San physically trembling.

“Baby,” his voice is low in attempts to control his building anger, “What did he do to you?”

You shake your head, blinking a few times blankly. “Nothing.”

“Then, why was he apologizing to you?” Mingi’s brow furrows, stepping in front of you in order to gently grasp your hands still holding onto that cup in his own.

“That was Jake.” You blink, head still reeling at this turn of events. “He- he-“ You take a deep breath in to steady your nerves. “He was my friend. Once.”

The two males share a look.

“You don’t look like you’ve just been chatting up an old friend.” San glares off in the direction Jake had walked off in, as if he can still see the male behind the walls of the hospital.

“He was my friend,” you repeat, pursing your lips for only a moment, “before he started bullying me.”

You swear that were you not in a public place, both males would have let growls escape them.

“He made me feel worthless, and pathetic.” Your gaze is somewhat blank, as if recalling memories from your childhood that you have long since kept hidden. “I can’t count the amount of times he told me I was ugly.” You swallow. “And fat. And stupid. And that I would never amount to anything. That no one would ever care for me, so I should just runaway and die.”

You swear you see San’s eyes flash in the reflection of the glass beside Mingi’s head.

“He got his friends involved, and it was like a game to them who could berate me the most.” You don’t know how you’re still standing, or how you’ve managed to quell your building emotions for the time being, but you do. “He told me to kill myself more times than I can remember.”

You look down at that cup of coffee in your hands, finally taking note of Mingi still gently holding onto you. The way they both have trouble breathing, chests heaving with each breath, you just know that they’re both barely containing their anger for the moment.

“I told you once before how people would pretend to like me as a joke,” you exhale shakily, and you hear the faintest of growls come from the man still holding you to his side. “I wish I could say I saw through it every time, but sometimes having a crush can blind you.”

San nearly drops the cup of coffee in his hand. “You liked him?”

“I mentioned we started off as friends, no?” Your lips twitch upwards sadly. “I think that’s what made what he did worse. I let so many things slide because I just wanted his attention. It’s something I’ve always done. With him though, any attention was good attention to me. It didn’t take long for it to change. His younger brother always was rude to me from the start, but then he started in on the ‘fun’, too.”

This time, there’s no mistaking when Mingi’s eyes flash black right before you.

Quickly, you scan the hallway to ensure it’s still empty. 

It is.

“He never apologized, or even acknowledged what he did to me before. He always denied it when confronted about it, too.” Your grip tightens slightly around that cup in your hands. “Until now.”

Raising a shaky hand to your cheek, Mingi cups your face tenderly in his palm. Gently, his thumb strokes over your skin, and you can feel the barely contained rage in his touch despite how delicately he holds onto you.

“We should tear him apart for what he did to you.” Mingi keeps his voice surprisingly low and steady. His Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “He doesn’t deserve to live.”

A low growl of agreement sounds from San.

Almost instantly, you’re shaking your head. “No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” San asks, pulling away from you in shock as he begins pacing in front of both you and Mingi in that little space between where you stand and the wall.

“He’s not worth it.” You reach out, and instantly San has his free hand in yours. “I never expected to run into him after all these years, least of all for him to apologize as soon as I did.”

“Are you-“ Mingi takes the time to study your features closely, gently guiding your gaze back to his. “Are you okay?”

“Shocked.” You blink a few times in response. “Attempting to process things for the moment, but I think I’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?” San steps in closer, nothing but worry etched into his brow.

“Yeah.” You meet his gaze. “I don’t know, it’s almost… freeing in a sense.” You swallow. “It’s almost like getting a sense of closure I never knew I needed.”

Instantly, the two males seem to relax the slightest bit from your words.

“He seemed genuine when he spoke to you.” San adds softly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Besides, I’m sure our dear Sannie here would have torn him apart in an instant if he sensed any malicious or deceitful thoughts towards you.” Mingi finally drops his hands, turning to glance off in the direction Jake went off in. “I know I would have.”

“You’re damn right I would have.” San hums in agreement.

A soft laugh escapes you. “That I do know.”

They offer you small smiles in response, an affectionate gleam to their eyes. 

“His wife just had twins.” You motion to the two baby girls wrapped up in blankets near Elijah with your chin.

They spare a brief look in their direction before shifting their focus onto Elijah. Almost instantaneously, Elijah stretches in his sleep, a tiny yawn escaping him as he shifts his position.

You coo lovingly down at your little nephew.

“He’s perfectly healthy, as far as we, and all of the doctors can tell.” San is beside you once more, his arm wrapped securely around your waist.

“And Crystal?” You spare a glance at Mingi.

“A little tired, but recovering just fine.” He smiles at you in response. “I checked her over like you asked.”

“Good.” A soft smile pulls at your lips. “I’m glad.”

Slowly, the three of you begin making your way back down the hallway and towards the room Crystal is in. You plan to spend some time with her before heading back for the day, and getting some more training done with Yunho and Yeosang. 

You’re almost at a point where you can start learning the basics of a few weapons, and you’re getting quite excited. Wooyoung is more than ready to start teaching you about different poisons, and he’s often hinted at certain plants which have high toxicity levels. For now, he’s still letting you have some space, not wanting to give you any ‘ideas’ for the next time he gets overtly clingy. 

Not that you would poison him. 

Similarly, Yunho has been helping you hone your mind, strengthening it before the inevitable happens once you become like them.

Once you become like them.

There’s a thought that has been crossing your mind more often than not lately. You know that they mentioned that it would consist of the merging of souls in a way - you give them a piece of your soul while they give you a piece of theirs in exchange - but you’re still not entirely sure what that entails. You’ve been meaning to ask, only, you haven’t found the proper time to do so.

Perhaps you’ll bring it up again, soon.

For now, you’ll focus on joking around and making your sister smile as you sit beside her hospital bed. Vasco managed to pass out in the one chair in the time it took for Mingi to come find both you and San, but you don’t hold it against him. The man has been up all night with his wife.

After about an hour, you notice Crystal starting to drift off to sleep, too, so you bid her a fond farewell for now. With a big hug and a kiss from you, you tell her to get as much rest as she can, and that you’ll be around to visit again soon.

The whole car ride back home is quiet. Both Mingi and San attempt to engage you in conversation, only for you to reply with small, one word answers. That is, if you don’t just hum in response. Your mind is clearly elsewhere, and worry furrows their brows as they watch you almost subconsciously drive home.

You seem distracted, and it’s enough to have the others observing you carefully as you walk through the house. The quiet is unusual for you after visiting your sister, and though you don’t appear angry, or upset, it’s quite unsettling.

Of course, it takes no time for both Mingi and San to be sharing what happened with the others. 

Why am I suddenly getting flashbacks to that worm we disposed of all those months ago? Wooyoung nearly growls out in all of their heads.

Believe me, Hongjoong sighs. You’re not the only one.

So, why aren’t we doing that to this one right now? Perhaps even something worse?Jongho quirks a brow while staring down at the pages of his book.

She told us not to. Mingi replies. Said he wasn’t worth it.

But he hurt her. This time, it’s Seonghwa who responds. None of his brothers need to see him to know that he wears a frown on his features currently. 

An expression mirrored by more than just one male.

She said it happened a long time ago. San adds. We don’t know the full details, just what she’s told us.

And that should have been enough to at least torment the fellow. Yunho says, as if it should have been the most obvious thing in the world.

I don’t know, guys. Mingi sighs. She told us that she felt as if it was almost freeing in a sense for him to apologize after all these years. You know I’m all for eviscerating anyone that harms her, but if she says not to, I think we should listen to her.

We’re lucky she hasn’t found out about Calum, yet. Yeosang chimes in, an almost knowing hum to his words.

And she never will. Hongjoong confirms. Just like she doesn’t have to know about this ‘Jake’ guy.

His wife just had twins, Hongjoong. San states, rather firmly. Besides, do you really want to disobey Our Queen’s wishes like that so easily?

A moment of silence settles over all of them as San’s words sink in.

San’s right. Seonghwa finally breaks the building tension. We don’t purposely orphan children, or widow spouses. Nor should we go against her wishes.

Boo! You guys are no fun. They can all practically hear the pout in Wooyoung’s voice as he says this.

I suppose the circumstances were a lot different last time. Jongho sighs.

We could still torment him mentally. Yunho suggests casually.

Oh, I’m all for this! Wooyoung exclaims excitedly. I could mildly poison him. Make it a hindrance to his daily life for a week or so.

All fun ideas, Yeosang hums. But I think you’re all forgetting one important detail.

At his brother’s inquisitive silence, Yeosang is quick to continue. 

She said, ‘no’.

“Is everything okay?” The sound of your voice, somewhat worried and soft, draws both Yunho and Yeosang out of their mental conversation with their brothers for the moment.

“Of course, Petal.” Yunho smiles at you. “We’re just worried about you, is all.”

“Me?” You quirk a brow in surprise.

“You seem distracted.” Yeosang tilts his head to the side slightly, almost curiously.

“You two have been standing to the side frowning like you can’t decide between cheddar or parmesan cheese for the past ten minutes.” You huff out a laugh. “If anyone’s distracted, it’s you.”

“We’re waiting for you to finish stretching.” Yeosang answers, attempting some form of causality.

“I finished stretching and doing some warm up exercises ten minutes ago.” You deadpan.

“Oh.” 

That seems to shut them up for a good thirty seconds.

“So then, what would you like to work on today, Petal?” Yunho is quick to change the subject.

Immediately, you begin vibrating in excitement, grinning widely as your eyes shine.

“Let’s finalize your hand-to-hand combat training first before we pull out the knives.” Yunho chuckles.

A dramatic pout pulls onto your features and Yeosang elbows Yunho quite pointedly in the ribs.

“Don’t worry, My Dear, we’ll let you try some weapons later today.” Yeosang assures you.

Almost instantly, your mood perks up, and both of them are smiling fondly at you.

“I take it I won’t actually get any pointy objects to start.” You quirk a brow playfully.

The two males share a look before Yunho is shrugging. “If that’s what you want.”

“We may be overprotective, Dearest, but we’re not unreasonable.” Yeosang replies. “If any incidents occur, we can just heal you.”

“Or us.” Yunho adds at seeing your expression of disbelief.

A subtle nod of your head in amusement is all he gets in response.

“You’ve been working on building your strength with Mingi and San, correct?” Yunho is quick to ask, walking over to the sparring mats to your left.

A nod is all the confirmation he gets.

“Alright then, Dearest,” Yeosang smiles, moving over beside his brother before meeting your gaze. “Show us what you’ve got.”

“Are you suggesting I take the both of you at the same time?” You quirk a brow teasingly as you step onto the mats.

The low growls you receive in response are all the confirmation you get that they’ve taken the comment in a different way than what you originally insinuated.

“Keep thinking like that, I’ll easily distract the both of you.” You chuckle, a sultry pull to the corner of your lips.

“We can’t help it, Dearest,” Yeosang sighs, almost wistfully. “You have a habit of dropping the most interesting thoughts into our minds at the best of times.”

“Not the worst?” Your brows flick upwards suggestively.

“Sometimes.” Yunho chuckles, and at the way your mouth falls open in mock offence, he’s quick to add, “I never said it was a bad thing, Petal.”

“It’s just a little more difficult to…” Yeosang searches for the right word, “concentrate on the battlefield with certain additions to our physique.”

“Yes, I can quite imagine how painful it is to fight when you’re hard.” You grin, huffing out a small laugh.

“It’s certainly not the most comfortable thing.” Yeosang nods in agreement.

“You speak as if you have experience with this sort of thing,” Your eyebrows raise, amusement shining behind your eyes.

When both of them shrug, you cannot help the boisterous laugh that escapes you.

“I’d say Captain has the most, though.” Yunho adds, seemingly nonchalantly. “He can get intense on the battlefield. In more than one way.”

“Oh?” This piques your interest. “Then, I look forward to it.”

The way they both blink at you in mild shock has you giggling.

“What? Surprised it doesn’t phase me that much anymore?” You tilt your head curiously.

“A little bit,” Yunho blinks, loosening his stance in preparation to fight you.

“A girl has her fantasies.” This time, it’s your turn to shrug.

Two low growls greet your ears, the faintest tint of black darkening their eyes.

“Care to share, Dearest?” Yeosang begins stalking towards you slowly, like a predator would its prey.

You immediately begin countering his every move, watching Yunho carefully out of the corner of your eyes. “Perhaps I’ll just show you.”

His breath hitches, and you strike.

For the next forty minutes, the three of you spar together on the mats. A few times, you manage to pin one of them, only for the other to knock you right off your balance. You’ve only ever sparred with one partner before, besides last week when Jongho and Mingi decided to challenge you further. So, taking on multiple of them at a time requires even more quick maneuvers and thinking on your part, but you’re starting to recognize a pattern to their attacks.

You’re not sure if they’re doing it on purpose, or if they’re aware of it or not, but Yunho seems to be the one to observe the scene before moving, and only when it looks like Yeosang has created an opening for him to get through. That, or when you’ve managed to subdue Yeosang for the moment.

Yeosang, on the other hand, enjoys staying low to the ground, crouching as he goes in for the attack to throw off your balance. He’s nimble, and much more flexible than you thought he could be. A fact which intrigues you as much as impresses you.

Both never fail to praise you any opportunity they get.

During the second round, Yeosang accidentally manages to tear your shirt. The scraps of fabric hang limply off of your shoulders, exposing your torso and the sports bra you wear.

Luckily, for you, it seems to distract them for a moment. Out of shock or something else, you don’t quite know. Either way, you know an opportunity when you see one.

Using this to your advantage, you manage to land a solid roundhouse kick to the side of Yunho’s head, quickly subduing Yeosang in the next moment.

Your chest heaves as you pin Yeosang beneath you, a victorious grin pulling at your lips.

Just as you go to say something, a low groan from the male laying on his back to your left draws your attention.

“Oh shit, Universe!” You hop right off of Yeosang to inspect the damage you’ve done to Yunho’s cheek. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replies, somewhat in a daze. His hand comes up to cup his cheek, almost affectionately. “Never better.”

“I just kicked you in the face, and you’re acting like a schoolboy who’s just received a cheek kiss from his crush for the first time.” You chuckle, noticing how Yeosang now kneels beside you with an almost pout on his lips. You quirk a brow, “What, you want me to kick you, too?”

Yeosang shoots you an innocent side eyed look, hope shining behind his orbs.

“I can’t wait to tell Mingi,” Yunho chuckles, pushing himself into a sitting position.

“I think Wooyoung might be more jealous.” Yeosang comments casually.

“You guys want me to harm you when we spar?” The appal is clear on your features.

“We don’t get hurt that easily, Dearest, but when it’s you that manages to surprise us, it’s incredible.” Yeosang tells you honestly. “Not to mention how much pride that fills us when you hit us in this context.”

“Not to mention incredibly sexy.” Yunho breathes, still stuck in that daze as the tips of his fingers gently rub over his cheek.

A brief conversation with Hongjoong about that scar that still sits proudly on his chest flashes through your mind.

“It’s impressive.” Yeosang concludes with a firm nod.

“Oh.” You giggle, a heat rising to your cheeks at their praise. “I still worry, though.”

“We know.” Yunho smiles at you, noticing how you gently pull his hand away to place a tender kiss upon his cheek. His ears flare bright red. “The feeling is, and will always be, mutual, Petal.”

You simply smile in response, helping Yunho back to his feet. Still, you cannot hide the concern in your eyes.

“Don’t worry, Petal.” Yunho chuckles, wrapping his one arm around you briefly in order to place a gentle kiss onto your temple. “Believe me when I say we’ve all suffered much worse injuries at each other’s hands before.”

You blink at him in shock.

“Remember how we told that you we don’t hold back on each other when sparring?” Yeosang chimes in.

Realization floods your features, nodding along to his words slowly.

“The bets were the worst.” Yunho hums, clearly reminiscing some past memories. “We would never kill each other, but we’ve gotten close to it a few times.”

Your brow furrows immensely in worry.

“Heat of the moment, Dearest.” Yeosang is quick to explain at the way your lips seem to part with a response. “It’s why we always had at least one of us to moderate the fights when we made bets on each other.”

“I still want to watch you guys fight one another at some point.” You comment, moving off to the side to take a drink of water.

“We haven’t forgotten, Petal.” Yunho grins. “We’re just saving it for now.”

You pout, somewhat dramatically.

“All in due time, Dearest.” Yeosang chuckles. “All in due time.”

You sigh, “I suppose it might be better for when I know how to at least use some weapons. I can study how you guys all use them, then.”

“Exactly.” Yunho nods, before catching himself. “Wait, what?”

“I thought I mentioned that I’m somewhat of a visual learner?” You tilt your head slightly in inquiry at him.

A flash of your hands weaving together those flowers in that clearing all those months ago flits through his mind.

“I remember now.” He hums, a loving smile gracing his lips.

A smile which you return.

Yeosang clears his throat, looking pointedly at Yunho. “How’s your head?”

Yunho spares a brief look towards you, a smirk pulling subtly onto his features. He licks his lips. “No complaints.”

The second that you spit out the water you’re drinking, Yeosang has jumped onto Yunho’s back, locking his arms around the elder male’s throat and choking him out. You begin coughing simultaneously as laughter attempts to escape you, Yunho thrashing around with Yeosang clinging like a koala to his back.

Finally, you manage to get your coughing under control as laughter takes over in full swing. Your eyes crinkle as you see the two of them continuing to play fight, Yunho soon tossing Yeosang over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and slamming the shorter male onto the mat below him.

The fact that they can hear how joyous you are in this moment makes each of their hearts swell. A sound neither will ever grow tired of. Knowing that they are the cause only serves to make them happy, pride swelling in their chests despite the circumstances that lead to this encounter. Well, at least for one of them.

You watch on with a fond look in your eyes as you lean against the side wall. That is, until a distant look crosses your features, and you seem to zone out for a minute or two.

“Is everything okay, Dearest?” It’s Yeosang’s voice that manages to pull you out of your thoughts.

You focus back in on your surroundings, noticing the worried tug of both his and Yunho’s brows, the two of them standing before you.

“Yeah,” you send them both a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“Now, who’s the distracted one?” Yunho jokes, moving beside you in order to nudge your arm slightly with his elbow.

Yeosang sends him a pointed look before turning back to you. “Are you sure you’re okay, Dearest? San and Mingi told us what happened earlier at the hospital.“

You take a moment to think, brow furrowing slightly as you look down at the ground.

“I just-“ you sigh. “I had so much pent up anger and sadness when I was younger for what he did to me. I never understood why he did it, and now that this has happened, I don’t quite know how to feel.”

“How do you feel, Petal?” Yunho steps in closer, placing a comforting hand onto your shoulder.

“Relieved, in a way.” You reply honestly. “Confused. Maybe a little angry, and a slight bit resentful still. It happened so long ago, that I didn’t think too much of the situation anymore. At least, I tried not to, but seeing him today just brought everything back. I’m still attempting to figure out if I’m actually passed everything with him or not, or if I just wanted to scrub it from my memory. I don’t think I can forgive him, though. Not after what he did to me.”

A brief pause.

“You know, I contemplating running away from home because of him. Just disappearing off the map, and dying in a ditch, because I believed him when he said no one would care.” You swallow thickly. “I was only ten.”

The way you see Yeosang’s eyes flash before you out of the corner of your vision says it all. You don’t even need to look at Yunho to know he does the same.

“Yet, hearing him apologize for things today…” you trail off, finally lifting your gaze to glance at both males standing around you. “Well, it’s like I told San and Mingi earlier today. It did feel freeing. It felt like finally getting an acknowledgment of everything bad he did to me, and him owning up to it. It’s- it’s-” you blink, your lips parting as they twitch upwards, “gratifying.”

Gently, Yeosang takes your hands in his own, yet you still manage to feel the subtle way he cannot control them from shaking.

“Is there-“ he swallows thickly, keeping his voice low as he clears his throat, “Is there anything we can do?”

You take a moment to stare deeply into his eyes, thinking of your answer carefully.

You blink lightly once more.

“No.” You shake your head. “No. I don’t think there is.”

“Petal-“

“The past can’t be changed now, nor do I want it to be.” You cut Yunho’s worried tone off. “I’m not the same person I was back then, but it’s made me who I am today. Yes, he hurt me.” You take a breath. “Am I going to let those old memories control my life? No. Besides, I’ve got more important things to think about now.”

“As long as you’re okay, Petal,” Yunho squeezes your shoulder gently. “That’s all we care about.”

“I’m okay, Yun.” You offer him a small smile before squeezing Yeosang’s hands back. “I’ll be okay.”

A comfortable silence settles over the three of you as you all hold onto each other so tenderly. You know both males will do whatever they can to comfort you, should you ask them to, but right now, you also have other things on your mind. Mainly, moving passed this and getting on with your new life.

“So…” You spare a glance at each male surrounding you. “Weapons?”

Yeosang quirks a brow, “What would you like to start with?”

“You’re letting me choose?” Your eyes widen, and you cannot help the way you begin to bounce on your feet. 

At their nods, a large grin pulls at your lips.

“Is there something you have in mind?” Yunho asks, an eager tone to his inquiry.

Multiple weapons flash through your mind at once, and you bring a hand up to your chest in hopes to quell your racing heart. That’s when you remember the state of your shirt, or rather, your now non-existent shirt.

Humming in thought to yourself, you pull the last few scraps of material off of your body. Gently, you tuck the fabric beside your water bottle, leaving you in just your sports bra for the time being. Not that any of you really mind.

That’s when you get an idea.

“Well, it’d be best to start with something at least somewhat familiar, no?” You look between the two males before you.

“That would probably be best.” Yeosang nods in confirmation.

“Well, since I haven’t seen any of you use any of your weapons yet, I’ll stick with something I’ve used before.” You reply, a knowing grin tugging onto your features. “Could one of you please get me a bat?”

You can see the surprise on both of their features the instant you say this. Regardless, Yeosang makes a wooden baseball bat appear in his hand, presenting it to you almost immediately.

“A bat, Petal?” Yunho’s brow quirks.

“Listen, I don’t want to be playing around with something I don’t understand yet. No matter how badly I want to throw an axe, or stab something with a sword, it’s not worth the risk for my first try.” You reply, grabbing the wooden object from Yeosang’s outstretched hand. “This,” you shake the bat lightly, “at least I’m somewhat familiar with. The worst it can really do is break a few bones at the present.”

“Is that why you were going to use it to bash San’s kneecaps in with?” Yeosang’s eyes shine with nothing but amusement.

“I had a lot of pent up rage as a teenager.” You shrug, stepping back onto the sparring mat while letting the bat spin loosely in your hand. A blink, and you’ve allowed it to fall in a circle, the tip nearly touching the ground before you’re holding it upright in the air. “Reina and I spent a lot of time in rec rooms, smashing shit. Especially when the whole thing happened with her ex first year of university.”

“You’ve mentioned.” Yunho nods, recalling that conversation briefly in his mind.

“There’s a reason he takes my threats seriously.” You grin, stepping up before a fighting dummy.

You eye the test dummy, flipping the bat almost absentmindedly in your one hand.

“Should we be worried?” Yeosang chuckles, a pleasant shiver caressing his spine as he watches you handle that bat for the moment.

“It’s been a while, so potentially.” You shrug, solidifying your hold on the base. “The first few times I ever swung seriously, I kept accidentally letting the bat go. It would go flying across the room and into the wall.”

“We’ll stand behind you, then.” Yunho grins, an eager gleam in his eyes as he sees you beginning to weigh the bat in each of your hands.

Continuously, you do more spins with the bat, tossing it from hand to hand to get a better feel of the wood beneath your grip.

“I wonder how much worse my swing has gotten.” You say, almost absentmindedly to yourself. “It’s been a while. My aim’s also never been particularly good.”

“Oh, come on, Baby,” San’s voice suddenly coming from behind you has you jumping before you’re spinning around to face him. “You can’t be that bad if you’re confident enough to threaten me with it.”

Your eyebrow quirks, noticing all eight of them now standing behind you.

“You think we’re going to pass up the opportunity of seeing you hit something with a weapon for the first time?” Wooyoung grins, almost maniacally. “Not likely, Angel.”

“Didn’t realize I’d have an audience.” You mutter, tightening your grip on the base of that bat in your hand once more.

“We’re only here to encourage you, Starlight.” Mingi smiles, a proud nod to his head.

“Yunho also wouldn’t stop bragging about getting kicked in the face by you.” San adds, somewhat bitterly. “We’re also here to kick his ass afterwards."

You shoot a pointed look at Yunho.

“What?” He raises his hands in his own defence. “I told you already, Petal. It makes us proud knowing what you’re capable of.”

“He’s just hoping you’ll do it again.” Hongjoong hums, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Says the one begging to be stabbed all the time,” Seonghwa rolls his eyes.

“Just say you’re jealous and be done with it.” Jongho snorts, leaning against one of the racks with weights on them.

“Okay,” you huff out a small laugh, turning back around to face the fighting dummy.

Lowly, you can hear them continuing to bicker behind you, and the fact that you can hardly feel their attention lingering on you causes you to relax. Inhaling deeply, you fill your lungs with as much air as you can before slowly exhaling. Shuffling from foot to foot, you gently tap the tip of the bat against the side of your foot in preparation for what you’re about to do.

Raising the wooden object, you let it spin once more in your hand before you’re gripping it tightly in your hold. Lining up your shot, a crazed look takes over your features as you swing the bat to strike at the head of the dummy, letting your adrenaline drive you. The resulting crack fills the room on impact, and the dummy goes tumbling to the floor with little resistance.

Silence surrounds you, and all you can register is a loud ringing in your ears as your chest heaves with each breath. Your body stands over that fighting dummy, now laying face down on the floor, the bat resting at your side with the tip balanced upon the floor.

That felt good. Probably better than it should have for the moment.

You turn to face them, a gleeful giggle falling from your lips, “How was that?”

However, you do not expect the scene that greets you as soon as you turn around.

San has fallen to his knees, his chest heaving as his mouth rests open in shock. Wooyoung is right beside him, both his and San’s chests heaving as the younger supports himself using his one arm on the ground. Seonghwa has a hand on Hongjoong’s shoulder, steadying himself while the elder can only stand there, stunned, with his eyes as black as night. To his left, Jongho stands, barely holding himself upright against that rack of weights for the moment as Mingi attempts to steady himself against the wall. Both Yunho and Yeosang are not fairing much better, appearing as if they’ve stopped breathing for the time being.

They all look about ready to pounce on you. In a good way, of course.

“Uh…” you blink at them in shock.

A loud crash is heard as Jongho finally loses his balance, a weight tumbling to the ground as it dislodges from the rack. It lands unceremoniously on his foot, of which he immediately grabs, hopping around as curses fall from his mouth.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” Immediately, you attempt to rush over to Jongho, only to get stopped by two males.

The breath escapes you as you go tumbling to the floor, the bat clattering onto the mat beside you. You hardly register anything for the moment except the sight of the ceiling above you, and the sound of low, pleased snarls filling the room and surrounding you from all angles.

A male rests on top of you, and you can feel yourself laying on top of another, both with their faces pressed into either side of your neck. Their pleased rumbles reverberate through your chest, every exhale they make tickling your skin. You swear they both begin nuzzling into you, too.

“Geez, if this is how you’re going to react every time I smack something, I think we’re going to need to put some rules in place.” You joke, an amused chuckle spilling from your lips as you see Hongjoong finally pull back from your neck to stare into your eyes.

“My Love, you cannot blame us.” There’s a hint of a growl to his words as his gaze swirls with that all too familiar darkness that you’ve become used to. “You must understand, we’ve been dreaming of this moment for a very long time.”

“What?” The corner of your lips quirks upwards. “Me smacking something with a bat?”

“You using any kind of weapon.” Seonghwa answers, his chest rumbling beneath you once more as his grip tightens against your hips.

He shifts beneath you, and you swear that you can feel something hard already pressing firmly into your ass.

Your breath hitches slightly, and you swear you feel him smirk against your skin.

“So, you really could have done some damage to San that day.” Yunho observes casually with a hum.

“Hey!” Said male whines, finally managing to stand back to his feet.

“I would have paid to see it.” Jongho says, replacing the fallen weight back onto the rack.

“You were the one who gave her the bat.” Mingi recalls.

“And I’d do it again!” The youngest replies, quite eagerly at that.

“Okay, so make sure there aren’t any bats around when we do anything to piss her off.” Wooyoung nods, somewhat to himself.

“More like, make sure you hide all the bats when you inevitably annoy her again.” Yunho teases, the others snickering along in agreement.

“Hey!” This time, it’s Wooyoung’s turn to whine.

“Woah, let’s not rule out the fact that I’m not gonna go around smacking you guys for the hell of it.” You chime in, gently guiding Hongjoong off of you for the moment, much to his displeasure.

“So, you don’t want to smack our asses?” Mingi quirks a knowing brow.

“If anyone wants to smack someone’s ass here, Min, it’s you.” You playfully roll your eyes, noticing how he suddenly averts his own gaze knowing damn well that you speak the truth.

“How did we go from baseball bats to smacking asses?” Seonghwa exhales a long sigh, helping you sit up beside him.

“It’s good for moral support.” San quips, Wooyoung immediately nodding along enthusiastically.

“You want me to spank you?” You look at them expectantly, noticing how red quite a few of them begin to get at your words.

Mingi begins to splutter.

“Well, if you’re offering,” Wooyoung smirks deviously, jutting out his hip slightly as if to put his ass on display.

This earns him a smack upside the head from Jongho, who suddenly cannot seem to meet your gaze.

“I mean, if you want me to,” you shrug, unaware of the commotion you’ve just started.

San and Wooyoung now appear to be wrestling on the ground, arguing about who’s going to get felt up first. Meanwhile, both Mingi and Jongho keep pushing each other back every time the other takes a step forward and towards you. Yunho laughs off to the side while both Seonghwa and Hongjoong begin bickering beside you. The only one you have yet to hear speak since this whole fiasco started is Yeosang.

Turning your head, you nearly jump when you see Yeosang crouched beside you. Silently, he presses a finger to his lips, helping you to your feet as you both slip away during the chaos erupting around you.

Carefully, Yeosang leads you to an area off to the side. It’s quite a long area, acting as a shooting range for target practice more than anything. Given how close it is to where you just were, you’re surprised none of the others have noticed your disappearance yet. Looks like they’re too busy bickering with one another to take note of your absence.

“Yeo?” You blink at him curiously, noticing how he moves around quickly, gathering a few things before standing directly in front of you.

“I had to get you away before they noticed.” He smiles, resting a quiver of arrows against the bench closest to you.

A bow rests in his left hand. It’s simplistic in design, and quite slim, but even you can tell that it’s carved from wood despite the smooth, black paint that covers the entirety of it.

“Are you going to shoot for me?” You cannot hide the excitement in your eyes.

“Perhaps.” A teasing quirk to his lips upwards. “Or maybe I intend for us to shoot together.”

Your breath hitches, a large grin painting your features as you giggle gleefully.

“You know, I’ve always loved archery.” You comment, barely able to prevent yourself from bouncing on your toes as you watch him grab an arrow from the quiver.

“I remember.” He smiles, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Would you like to watch me-“

“Yes.” There is no hesitation in your response, even as you clasp your hands over your chest hopefully. “I mean…” You clear your throat, noticing how he blinks at you in mild shock. “Please. I would love to.”

With those final words, you motion for him to continue.

A kind smile and a nod are all you get in response as Yeosang takes his position on the little shooting platform. Still, he holds that bow in his one hand, placing the arrow into the little nook before taking a deep breath to steady himself. Then, with a smooth precision that you’ve become so accustomed to from him, he lifts his weapon, lining up his shot with the target at the end of the track.

Every movement he makes, every breath he takes, you observe carefully. Your eyes never leave him, noting how focused he looks in this very moment. The string of the bow is pressed against the corner of his lips as he draws the arrow back, arms not so much as wavering even in the slightest in their hold. The line from the tip of the arrow to the end of his elbow is steady, and if you didn’t know him, you’d swear he was a statue rather than a living person in this very moment.

A breath, and the arrow is loosed.

The tip spears through the air, landing in a dull thunk as it meets its target across the way. Naturally, it lands dead centre.

Nothing but awe paints your features as you see him turn to you. Adoration is clear in your eyes as you watch him step up to you, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” You breathe, your hands still clasped in front of your chest.

“That truly means the world to me coming from you, Dearest.” Yeosang smiles softly, bringing his free hand up to gently cup your cheek. “I’m just glad I can finally share this with you.”

“I won’t lie, I’ve been looking forward to this since you mentioned teaching me that day at the mall.” Your lids flutter shut, leaning into his touch.

“Really?” He tilts his head slightly, thumb tenderly stroking along your cheek. At the way you hum in response, he steps in closer, breath ghosting the skin of your lips. “I’m glad.”

Softly, your eyes open to stare deeply into his own. He seems to be studying your every feature, nothing but fondness reflected in his gaze as he cannot help but keep sparing fleeting glances down at your lips.

Your tongue darts out to wet them, and you hear his breath hitch slightly in his throat.

“I always enjoy spending time with you, Yeo.” The admission is but a whisper on your lips, scared that if you speak any louder, you’ll disturb the moment between the two of you.

Faintly, in the background, you can still hear the other seven bickering about something or other. Not that you’re really paying attention to them at the moment.

“The feeling is, and always will be, mutual, My Queen.” He breathes out, leaning forward slightly to rest his forehead against your own.

Your heart flutters.

“Yeosang?”

He hums, tilting his head slightly forward so that his nose brushes against your own.

“Kiss me.”

Like every time before, you do not have to ask him twice.

How the press of his lips against your own always feels just like the very first time escapes you. Always, he holds you gently, pouring everything he is into the movement of his lips over your own. He cradles you close, loving how your own hands find purchase on his shoulders to steady yourself as he kisses your breath away.

It’s slow, and loving. Nothing more expected than what the other is willing to give. All the same, it makes your heart race, nothing but love flooding your veins as he holds you to him gently.

Slowly, he retracts, only for you to quickly press forward to peck his lips a few more times.

He chuckles, “Dearest.”

“You can’t blame me.” You hum, eyes fluttering open as you loop your arms around his neck. “You’re addictive, Yeosang.”

A pleasant shiver caresses his spine as he growls lowly. “I could say the same about you, My Queen.”

You giggle, and it’s still one of the most melodic sounds Yeosang has ever heard in his entire life.

“Now,” you hum, taking a minor step back while unlocking your arms from around his shoulders in order to stare at him eagerly. “Show me how to do that, please.”

Yeosang smiles, his heart thundering inside of his chest. “It would be my honour.”

A dull thud from behind you both draws your attention to see the other seven seemingly wrestling with each other for the moment. Yunho seems to have pinned Mingi on the mat, both Wooyoung and San going after Jongho at the same time. Hongjoong and Seonghwa seem to be attempting to choke the other out while standing on their feet, locked in a stalemate of sorts as chaos thrives around them.

A low chuckle escapes you as you shake your head. “I have a feeling they’ll be busy for a while.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Yeosang grins right along with you. Extending his free hand out to you, his eyes begin to shine, “Shall we?”

“We shall.” You immediately place your hand in his.

Gently, Yeosang guides you up onto that little platform with him, making sure to line you both up with a fresh target on the track.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you see his first arrow still sticking proudly out of that first target off to the side.

“How much do you know about archery?” He asks, nothing but curiosity in his gaze as he grabs another arrow from the quiver.

“Honestly?” You take moment to think. “Not much. Other than what you’ve already told me.”

He nods, stepping in beside you as he offers you the bow.

“The hardest part to begin with can be finding enough strength to draw back the string.” He explains, noting how you carefully observe the bow and all its intricate details as soon as you have it in your hands. Your wonder and awe makes his heart skip a beat. “We can practice that a few times before you attempt to knock an arrow.”

“Okay.” Your eyes dart back up to meet his gaze, and you hear his breath catch in his throat yet again.

With a little help from Yeosang, he’s able to guide you on how to properly hold a bow.

“Don’t be afraid of it, Dearest.” He instructs. “You can cause far more damage with a bow than it can ever do to you while wielding it.”

A nod from you is all he receives that you understand his words.

For a few minutes, he has you practice lifting the bow into a shooting stance, and drawing the string back as if you’re about to take a shot. Still, he holds that arrow in his hand, watching on with nothing but loving pride in his eyes as you follow his every instruction with the utmost care.

“You’re doing wonderful, Dearest.” He grins, his gaze dripping with affection as he watches you absolutely revel in his praise. “You’re picking up things very quickly, especially the basics.”

You giggle, a subtle heat rising to your cheeks. “Well, I did spend a lot of time pretending to be an archer when I was younger. I may not have known much, but some of my favourite characters are, so I wanted to be just like them.”

Yeosang quirks a brow, “Oh?”

“Yeah,” you avert your gaze, somewhat shyly. “Katniss, Kagome, Legolas. I always wanted a bow from the woodland realm when I was small. I thought the designs were beautiful, and like I said before, I’ve always had a fascination with archery.”

“Remind me to show you my collection soon, then.” He hums knowingly, a fond look dancing within his eyes.

Your whole demeanour perks up even further, “Okay!”

“For now, how about we shoot your first arrow?” There’s nothing but tender love in his gaze as he looks at you, seeing as you begin shaking lightly in excitement. “Deep breath, Dearest. You don’t want to be shooting with a shaky arm.”

You grin, nodding eagerly.

Following his instructions and taking a deep, steadying breath, you manage to calm your nerves slightly. Still, you cannot deny the excitement that courses through your veins as he hands you that singular arrow.

Gently, Yeosang instructs you on how to notch it before drawing it back.

“We can practice with you drawing from a quiver another time.” He says. “For now, let’s just keep it simple.”

“Sounds good.” You smile.

“Okay, Dearest,” he motions towards the target with his head. “Whenever you’re ready.”

A nod is all he receives in response as you take another deep breath.

Looking towards your feet, you take a moment to steady your nerves once more. Shifting your gaze, you study that target across the way, relaxing your shoulders just as Yeosang has instructed you to do. Raising the bow, you draw the string back, lining up your shot as best as you can.

The feeling of his eyes watching you is a little nerve wracking to say the least. You can feel your hands shaking as you attempt to steady your aim, holding your breath as your eyes focus in on the target at the end of the track. With each second that passes, you find it increasingly difficult to maintain the pull of the string, that thin band threatening to snap forward and through your grip at any moment.

There’s a furrow to your brow as you concentrate, but even you can tell how shaky you’ve suddenly become.

Softly, Yeosang moves behind you, placing his hands on your waist in comfort.

“Breathe, Dearest.” He whispers lowly into your ear, causing a shiver to caress your spine as his nose trails up the skin of your neck. “You’ve got this.”

Slowly, his hands begin to trail up your sides. Goosebumps erupt on your arms as you feel him cover your one hand holding onto the bow with his own, the other supporting your arm that’s drawing back the string. His chin rests on your shoulder, head leaning in the softest of touches against your own.

Suddenly, the string doesn’t become as difficult to hold onto anymore.

“Guide me.” His voice rumbles out. “We can make the shot together.”

The soothing timbre of his voice manages to calm you, and you find yourself taking another much needed deep breath. The heat of his body pressing against yours only adds to the moment, and you allow the familiar, comforting scent of sea island cotton to surround you.

You steady your hands.

The arrow is loosed in the blink of an eye, and you barely register the dull thunk of it sinking into the target across the way. All you can think about in this moment is how Yeosang’s hands feel settling back on your waist, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he buries his face into the side of your neck.

“See,” he hums lowly, squeezing your waist gently in his grip. “I knew you could do it."

Blinking to clear your vision, you allow your whole body to relax into his touch.

That’s when you see where your arrow has landed.

An involuntary excited squeal escapes you as you turn around in his hold.

“Sangie! Look!” You giggle, eyes crinkling at the sides with your joyous expression. “We hit bullseye!”

“You did that all by yourself, Dearest.” He grins, hands squeezing your hips gently once more. “I’m so proud of you.”

You begin wiggling happily in his hold, eyes falling shut as you smile wide.

“Leave it to Yeosang to steal everyone’s thunder.” Mingi grumbles from off to the side.

Turning your head, you see him standing with his arms crossed, a slight pout on his lips. The others don’t seem to be faring any better, but you’re too happy to care at the moment.

“Guys!” You bounce on your feet, pointing to the target at the end of the track. “Look!”

Several sets of eyes finally take note of the two targets side by side with arrows sticking out of the centre of each of them.

“Is one of those yours, My Love?” There’s a certain prideful gleam shining within Hongjoong’s eyes as he asks this.

At your vigorous nod, they have all the answers they need.

“That’s incredible, Baby!” San immediately rushes over to you, pulling you out of Yeosang’s embrace and into his own. He immediately lifts you in his arms, laughing along with you in your excitement, much to the elder’s annoyance.

“You did wonderful, Petal.” Yunho hums, being the next to walk over to you. Easily, he pulls San off of you, dragging him back in order for Yeosang to wrap you back into his arms once again.

A firm nod is sent to the taller male from Yeosang in thanks, to which Yunho simply smiles at in response.

A pout rests on San’s lips as he crosses his arms, only lessened by the fact that Wooyoung has to be held back by Jongho in the next second before the male tackles you to the ground in his excitement.

“It’s only because I have such a good teacher.” The way you turn and look back at Yeosang with nothing but fondness in your gaze says it all.

Soft rumbles shake their chests as they observe the scene before them, and they know for a fact that the loving look that resides on Yeosang’s features right this very instant is reflected on all of their own faces right now. Seeing you so happy, and so eager to learn even one of their chosen weapons has both a pride and love unlike ever before filling their chests. Emotions of which they will gladly indulge in when they’re with you, any and every time that they can.

“How was shooting an arrow for the first time, My Divine?” Seonghwa asks, an eager gleam to his eyes.

You smile, hands tightening subconsciously around that bow still held in your hands. You spare a glance down at the weapon. “Wonderful.”

“She’s a natural.” Yeosang hums, never tearing his eyes away from you for one second.

“I swear you’re just saying that.” You avert your gaze shyly, a vibrant heat rising to your cheeks.

“We’re not.” Wooyoung shakes his head almost instantly.

“You’re incredible, Starlight.” Mingi adds without a moment of hesitation.

“Our Perfect Queen.” Yunho’s voice rumble out, growls of agreement sounding around you immediately.

You allow for your eyes to flutter shut, revelling in this moment with all of them for as long as you can as you relax further into Yeosang’s embrace.

“My Lovely Kings.” The words are but a pleasant hum on your lips.

Again, eight low growls rumble out through the room. A smile pulls at your lips as the sound dissipates, allowing for a comfortable silence to settle over all of you.

“So,” Yeosang’s low voice by your ear has you blinking your eyes open, heart skipping a beat as you hear his next words, “Want to see my collection?”

[http-finnick]

𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐞.

finnick odair x fem!reader

summary: finnicks pov on how the capitol tortured and used you while he stands useless in district 13. once saved, he quickly realizes you aren't the same.

request: i just discovered your blog! It came up in the stuff Tumblr thinks I might like! Finnick seeing the broadcasts of the reader and Peeta. The rescue scene where they reunite. But reader wasn't tortured with Finnick, like lPeeta was with katniss. Sad and the reader having to get used to life again. Finnick almsot crying bc she jumps at loud noises, flinches. And at first she can't handle being touched. At all. Like they hold hands after a week.

a week ago I saw you on the tv. you weren't in your mother's dress getting reaped, you weren't fighting for your life in the arena. you were perfectly put together as you begged me to stop something you would die for.

I sat silently in the dining hall as people raged and threw insults at the seemingly disgusting capitol-loving traitors but I sat there knowing that you were being tortured. you are going through hell and there is nothing I can do about it.

.

I was in my pure white room as I rubbed my dry eyes to the new lighting, blurred vision, and ringing ears making out nothing until I hear

"They found her"

They found her? what, is she dead? did they find a body? did the capitol realize they didn't need her anymore and strung her up as a warning to others? caught and killed. know your place.

of course, dead or alive I fell out of bed and followed who I found out to be katniss, pure white walls and pure white tiles are all my eyes see until we stopped at a room and katniss turns to me.

"look, she's been through hell. all of them have been..I- fuck, peeta hates me. just, keep your distance" she warns before walking off and I can't help but linger on the words keep your distance... she's been out of my reach for god knows how long and you want me to sit across from her watching my words? fuck no.

I open the door, adrenalin running high as step in and look up to see her

but she doesn't see me

she knows who I am I know that. but, her eyes, she doesn't...feel right around me...like I'm a stranger

I'm already feeling like tears are running down my face and I haven't even said hi yet

"Y/n" the words choke out as I stumble a few steps towards her, she flinches slightly and my heart shatters.

"Hi, finnick" her voice is hoarse, scared. she brings her knees up to her chest as she takes her busted lip into her mouth, rather sucking the blood of her wound than speaking to me

maybe katniss was right I think, grabbing a chair and sliding it over to her, taking a seat I grab the blanket of the bed and whisper "I'm so sorry" as tears pick and poke my glassy eyes

"me too"

.

She's out of the hospital and I go to bed with her by my side, to wake up with it being empty.

shes been sleeping on the bathroom floor lately, the first time I found her there I thought she died.

she shakes and jumps when a door closes and doesn't let me touch her, even to console her when she's woken up from a nightmare. I feel tears run down my face when she lets me grab onto her hand for the first time in weeks.

so, when I tell you I cried. I cried as she cupped my face and brought her lips towards mine, soft as ever as she lays her head on my chest and whispers,

"I missed you, so badly"

"I missed you too"

an: sorry this took so long! I had lots of fun writing from finnicks pov! it was quite the challenge to write about lost, found, and recovered all in one short drabble but I hope I did an alright job! i love you guys so much! mwah <3

[pickapea]

literally me omg

not at my shady ass fading into the shadows of obscurity 🤣🤣🤣

[greetingfromthedead]

1. Death's Door

Series: Apple Blossoms

Series Plot: Knives is finally crushed, his plans in ashes, his body at Death's door, but Vash decides to spare his life. With the last power he has left, he carries his brother to a person who has nursed him back to life, now begging for you to save his twin too. A tattered Knives finds himself in the care of a human and as time goes on, he has to come to terms with uncomfortable truths about his skewed world view and the strange feelings he discovers blooming in his chest for you. // Contains some Trimax spoilers. // A slight mix of all the Trigun iterations, but mostly Trimax

Pairing: Knives x GN!Reader

Series Rating: PG-13 + pwp BONUS chapters

Series Tags: No use of "Y/N", Redemption, Love, Romance, Sickfic, Medical Inaccuracies, Knives is injured, Caretaking, Falling In Love, Adventuring, Cowboy vibes, Knives is introverted, Knives has a crush and is very lost, Fluff, Reader-Insert, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Canon, No use of y/n, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Forced Proximity, Trauma, Knives pouts a lot

Word count: 3.3k

Author's Note: It is not yet a fully fleshed out story, I have the first few chapters planned out, but keeping it going will depend partially of the interest shown for it and how things will work out. All in all, I would be grateful to hear your thoughts. What is something you would love to see in such a story, scenarios and dynamics you would like to explore. Perhaps I will adopt some of them.

Yapping | Next Chapter →

It has been many long months since the communications were cut off as the satellites fell from the sky as comets. Since then, the only source of information have been the criers, who travel from village to village, sharing news and stories. Sometimes you hear different stories from different mouths and really can never be sure what the truth is. Apparently, at least most of the Seven Cities have been decimated, and a giant ark is destroying everything in its path. The criers are warning people to seek shelter and prepare for the worst, but you still hold on to a sliver of hope. You've heard that Vash the Stampede is somehow involved in this whole mess. The man with a giant bounty on his head is rumored to be the Devil himself, the Humanoid Typhoon. Some sources say he is behind all of this; he is the one who is raining down destruction as he always does; others say he has stepped up as the protector of humanity on this desolate planet. And the truth remains a mystery, hidden behind the game of telephone and conflicting accounts. Deep down, you believe that he is on your side, fighting to keep humanity safe from the impending destruction.

You have met that strange man before. He arrived in your care with multiple gunshot wounds in the dead of night, or rather, you stumbled over his dying body in the dark desert. It had been nothing short of a miracle that he had evidently walked from the next town over towards your lonely house before collapsing. And it was even more of a coincidence that you found him at all. Vash the Stampede truly has the luck of a demon, or perhaps it was fate. Who's to say? But you did dragged him home, patched him up, and took care of him until he awoke from his week long slumber. He remained under your watchful eye for a bit longer, and as the closest thing to a doctor this area has, you felt it was your duty to make sure he fully recovered before letting him leave. You got to know him quite well during the time he spent at your house. You quickly realized who he was, but let him introduce himself. It became clear to you that the vicious rumors held little truth. He might be clumsy, but not evil. He was nothing but kind and grateful to you, helping you however he could and paying you for the time and medicine spent on him even as you tried to refuse. All that happened a few years ago, but his generosity and kindness still stick with you to this day. You still remember his smiling face as he turned to leave into the empty desert where you found him in the first place.

Nowadays, you live quietly in your lonely house. The closest village is half a day's ride away, and you rarely see anyone besides the occasional messenger passing through. The closest city is Octovern, but to reach that via tomas, it would take nearly half a week. You occasionally take your first aid kit and go through the nearby towns to help anyone in need, but you have been blessed to not be dragged into the larger war decimating the planet. You have been able to maintain a sense of peace and purpose amidst the chaos, but you can only hope things will return to a sense of normality soon, as much as that can be found in this place.

Little did you suspect of the evening where a loud and insistent banging on your door would shift your life entirely. A rap like that always means trouble, and instinctively, you hurried to open the old creaking door into the cooling evening air. The golden light of the setting suns tries to flood into your hallway, only to be obscured by a giant figure. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to see more than just the silhouette, but still, the sight leaves you dumbfounded. Before you are two people, but they aren't entirely human as wings spread from their backs, not quite covered in feathers like an angel, partially reminding you of roots and stone, partially of shattering metal. Two wings, one on each of the bloody men. One holds the unconscious body of the other. He struggles to stay upright, one knee on the ground, the other supporting the limp form of the other as his singular arm wraps around the other's waist. The stump of his left arm has wires tangling from it, and it must have been what he used to knock on your door. It takes you too long to realize who that man is—Vash. His blonde hair is now entirely black, and his features are obscured by dirt and blood.

"Please. Help." He pleads with desperation in his eyes. "Can you save him?"

Your eyes shift to the man in his grasp. He is looking even rougher than Vash; his clothes seem burned and torn, and his skin is covered in blood and open wounds. His face is bruised and swollen. He hangs limply in Vash's embrace, his arms dangling lifelessly at his sides in an uncanny fashion. He's barely breathing, and it's clear that time is running out.

"Right!" You stir from your shock. "Let's get him inside!"

You push aside the weirdness and the unnatural aspects of the situation you find yourself in and slip back into the familiar feeling of urgency. You rush forward to put a shoulder under the unconscious man and lift him up with the help of Vash. You drag him not to the cot that's reserved for your patients, but instead you haul him onto the long dinner table that doubles as an examination table in a pinch. Your hands move on their own as they grab what you need: shears and cloths, first aid kits, bandages, medicine, water, and alcohol. You firmly tell Vash to sit down on the stool in the corner and not get in your way. You feel bad for being so stern with him, especially since he is injured too, but the man on the table is already playing dice with death.

You get to work quickly, knowing that every second counts. You remove the tattered clothing and assess the extent of his injuries. You're surprised he still has life left in him with the amount of blood he must have lost, chunks of his body apparently missing, gashes, and cracks covering his skin. You do as much as you can, focusing on the larger wounds first, knowing that time is of the essence in saving him. To your surprise, he doesn't bleed nearly as much as you think he should, given the severity of his situation. You roughly stitch him up and pull a few bullets from his flesh. His internal organs seem in good enough condition, and you're glad you don't have to operate on them further. As you work away, the wing on his back crumbles; the chunks feel strange, and you can't begin to guess the material, but you don't have a chance to analyze it either. By the time you are done, the wing is gone, leaving a chunky heap on the ground, almost like sand. You clean his body with water and alcohol before checking his skeleton and joints. There are no broken bones, but the right shoulder is dislocated. You take care to pull it back into place with a snap, and you continue to examine him. Much of his skin is cracked; it looks strange, and you can't begin to guess what caused it.

After hours of grueling work, you administer him medicine to hopefully avoid infection, another dose of strong painkillers, and some saline to help with his recovery. You lift his head carefully as you smear the gooey concoction on his gums for a longer lasting effect. To be doubly safe, you inject more drugs directly into his bloodstream and lather the wounds with ointment to help them heal. Wrapping him in bandages takes a lot from you too, especially since you can't accept Vash's offer to help since he is still dirty. By the end, your patient is almost entirely covered in bandages but still breathing. You throw a clean blanket over him and a pillow under his head, too worried to move him off the table onto the bed. It will have to wait, perhaps if he survives until dawn. But the chances of him making it through the night seem slim.

"Right." You let out a deep sigh. You can finally shift your attention from the dying man to Vash. You are deep into the night, pushing the morning hours, with dark circles forming under your eyes, but there is no rest for you yet. You turn towards the man in the chair; he looks like hell. You have never seen him look this bad before, and last time, he was the one whose life was dripping from his body on this table. Tears have carved deep lines into his dust, ash, and blood covered cheeks. There is an unusual mix of emotions on his face, but worry burns the brightest.

"It's your turn now," you say to Vash, catching his attention. His gaze lifts from the floor, and for a moment, it seems like he didn't hear you at all. You just continue, getting a washbasin, cloth and a jug of water ready. "You can use these to clean up; I'll help you with any spots you can't reach in a bit; I'll clean this mess up first."

"Will he survive? Will he be alright?" he asks instead, ignoring your comment completely.

"I do not know. I tried my best. The rest is up to him and fate itself. Whether he makes it or not is out of my hands." You look at him sympathetically. "Hopefully dawn will bring good news," you say softly.

As you pick up your bloody tools and cloths, you hear Vash stand up, but instead of walking towards the counter where the washing supplies are, his steps lead away, towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" you ask resolutely, a nip in your voice. He pauses in silence for a moment.

"I must go. I have some things to take care of still," he answers, a note of guilt present in his tone.

"You will clean up, have me patch you up, and take a nap before you can think about leaving. Doctor's orders!" Your words are commanding, leaving no room for argument. You're both tired; he looks awful, and you almost sway on your feet. But your work is not yet done.

Vash stands quietly for a moment longer before turning back and stripping a few layers of his tattered clothing. Exposing the bruises and wounds covering his body. He struggles a little with the setup at hand, using the reflection of your window to try and see where he has to reach. At the same time, you clean up the mess you made while working on your patient. You wipe the surfaces and wash the tools, and finally, you can discard the bloody robe, mask, and gloves.

You help Vash wash away the dirt from any spots he can't reach and have him sit on the chair in his underwear. You stick a cup of warm tea in his hand and down a strong coffee yourself before washing your face with cold water to wake up again. After that, you set everything up to stitch him back together and get to work. You examine him thoroughly and give him pain medication before getting the needle out. His body is tense and his pulse is still high; he has yet to calm down.

"Is he your brother? Even under all that bruising and swelling, I can tell the similarities." You speak softly to him to get his mind off the things that are hurting him at the moment.

"Yes, my twin," Vash replies, his voice hoarse and filled with pain.

"I didn't even know you had a twin. What's his name?" You continue as you tie together another suture.

"Knives."

"That's an interesting name," you say with little emotion in your tone, most of your attention going into taking care of his wounds. A stray thought of the wings crosses your mind; Vash has lost his too in the time your focus was on his brother. There is clearly something weird going on, but for now you are too tired to ask the relevant questions, and you need Vash to relax.

"I guess…" His voice trails off, and you can see him staring at the unconscious body on the table.

You keep talking as you work on him, stitching, disinfecting, and bandaging the larger cuts one by one. You give him a checkup and pain medication, and as you take his pulse, it is normal again. You are relieved; he seems to be stable and doing alright despite the way he looks. You provide him with some loose clothing you have laying around just in case and make him get in the bed you have in the other room to rest and recover for the night. He is hesitant, but the tiredness in his eyes tells you that he needs the rest.

"I will stay up with your brother; I will check on him, and I promise I will wake you up if there are any issues. Sleep. You need it." You assure him as you throw a cooling blanket on him before turning off the light and leaving the room. "Rest easy; everything will be alright now."

You return to the patient on the table and check his vitals again. You take his pulse and check his light blue eyes. His breathing has returned to normal, and he looks to be doing better, but as you press your hand on his forehead, you feel the developing fever. You know that this could be a sign of infection, and it makes you slightly nervous. His jet black hair feels damp as your hand glides over it, and you notice that his skin is sticky to the touch. However, you try to remain calm and decide to check again soon and keep a close eye on him.

To keep yourself from falling asleep, you keep yourself busy with whatever tasks you find. You clean up your kitchen from everything, organize your cabinets, and even clean Vash's clothes and hang them to dry outside. Dawn comes, but nothing changes; the slight fever still lingers, and Vash is asleep. You mix up some sugar water and carefully drip a few drops into Knives's mouth. He swallows painfully, and you continue administering him the water for a few hours. You're losing the battle with your exhaustion, so you make yourself a cup of coffee again, letting it steep while checking on the wounds. They look good, and it almost appears like they've started to heal a little. You write it off as your own delusion. The rising suns cast their hot light on the desert, and Vash's clothes dry in no time. You pick them up and get to sewing the dark shirt and his pants; the red coat is mostly gone, burned, and torn.

You realize that it has been a while since your last meal, as you even missed yesterday's dinner. You get to cooking up some porridge after leaving Vash's clothes in the other room and making sure from afar that he is still breathing. Every quarter hour, you return to the man on the table, check on him, and give him some water and medicine if necessary. Nothing has changed, neither for the better nor for the worse, and you are grateful for that, counting your blessings as you remind yourself of the condition he arrived in.

Another hour passes as Vash appears in the door-frame, his eyes first falling on his brother before moving to you. He looks better; he is still covered in bandages and bruises, but the wary tiredness is gone from his eyes. He wears the clothes you mended for him, and his expression softens as he takes in the sight of you checking the pulse of your patient.

"Good morning," you tell him with a slight smile. "I made some food, but it's probably cold by now. Feel free to take as much as you want. Your brother is doing alright; he has a slight fever, but it hasn't gotten worse. The wounds look good, and I've given him water and medicine. For now, it's okay; he is not out of the woods, but he's getting there."

"Morning," Vash says as he walks closer to you. He doesn't say much; there is an unexplainable expression on his face as he pulls you into a one armed yet crushing bear hug. You feel his breathing get more ragged as he holds you; he repeats seemingly endless "thank you"s until you feel tears soaking your shirt. He finally lets you go, holding your shoulder and looking you in the eyes, tears and snot running down his face.

"You're welcome, but don't get too carried away, okay? I cannot promise you anything other than that I will try to get him back to full health; it doesn't mean it will happen." You try to calm him down again, reaching for a tissue to hand him. "Now eat; I will check your wounds again after that."

And so it goes. Vash eats his fill, dragging his chair a bit closer to the table but not quite next to it, as you gave him a stern look, worried for any contamination. He finishes his meal quickly, eager to have his wounds checked, as if he is in a hurry. Luckily, they look fine, and you lather him in ointment and cover everything with fresh bandages, relieved that he is okay.

"You said you had some business to attend to. Is that why you are vibrating on this chair?" You ask calmly, checking the strange cracks in his skin on his cheek.

"Well, I have to go. I promise I will be back as soon as I can—just a few days at most. I am sorry to just dump him on you, but I beg you. I only go to keep both of you safe." His sky blue eyes try to track your movement the best they can as you put a bandage on him.

"It's alright; I'll take care of him. I doubt he will regain consciousness anytime soon. I can only hope he won't get worse." You take a step back, happy with your handiwork, as nothing is bleeding. It's the best you can do for Vash right now.

"I will forever be in your debt. Thank you for everything. I will pay you once I get back, I swear." His eyes look pleadingly at you as he gets up from the chair.

"I believe you; don't worry about that." You smile, recognizing the honor in his face.

Vash gives you a nod and goes closer to his brother. He says something quietly to him, and you don't quite pick up any of the words. With that, Vash turns and walks to the front door, and you follow.

"Thank you again," he says to you tenderly, and then more loudly over the whole house: "Get better soon, brother!"

You watch as Vash steps outside, heading into the desert. Only a little while later, you figure out he has nothing with him but the clothes on his back and the gun on his leg. No water, no food, no shelter—nothing. You turn and see what's left of the red coat on the chair, now realizing you must really be out of it to not notice it sooner. But it's too late to go after him now; all you can do is hope that he has a plan.

Yapping | Next Chapter →

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[andrealvsbooks]

Until I Found You

“We both knew that this marriage was only on paper and the birth of Xaden is the same for me, just an obligation. I can't love a child who only reminds me of 10 ten years of lack of freedom. I must go and be happy, with the man I love and the baby I carry in my womb from him." - Recovered Correspondence to Fen Riorson from his ex-wife, Eleanor Winters. Shortly after Xaden saves Violet from torture and many cadets go to Aretia, Xaden arrives at a village razed by the Venin and discovers a girl who looks like her mother in the rubble.

English isn’t my first language, so if you see any mistakes or things that look weird please tell me so I can fix them.

Tag list: @honethatty12

Chapter 2

If Xaden had learned anything long ago, it was to compartmentalise pain, no matter how much pain he felt, he should never let it be exposed, he should always keep it in little mental drawers and hide it from the world for as long as possible, praying to Dunne that he would never collapse. It was his greatest lesson since the day Navarre ended most of his family, his life in general. The pain became something he had to leave in the background, as he watched his father being executed, as the relic of the rebellion appeared in him.

So as he dismounts from Sgaeyl to survey the rubble of another village in one of the Poromish provinces, Krovla, his face is expressionless, though inside he feels only rage and pain. He can't bear to watch every week as a village falls, as civilians die, as everything seems a premonition of what the final fate is, though no one says it out loud. But he is a leader for a reason, so he must never waver or show his hopeless thoughts.

-Check if there are any survivors and if there is any unusual damage. Emery, take charge of making the report to the -he orders.

-We're bloody late -said Mira Sorrengail.

Everyone scatters through the village, amidst corpses and debris, all the bodies had been drained as usual. However, Xaden becomes alert when he notices how few people seem to live in the village.

-Why the hell attack this town? It's almost non-existent, a few miles away there are far more beneficial ones -Garrick says with the same line of thought as his friend.

-Maybe because their final destination is this way and they want us to know -he says, avoiding looking at the face of a murdered girl.

-Don't think I haven't thought about them addressing Aretia, but it doesn't make sense for them to be so undisguised.

-They know they are at an advantage of us in weapons and army, they can afford to mock us -he said bitterly.

-We're screwed -mutters Garrick.

-Too much.

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

-Hey, there's a live girl here! -Heaton shouts in the distance.

They rushed there in deep surprise, definitely not expecting to find survivors, let alone a girl, the search for civilians was a routine action for which there was little hope. The venin never left anyone alive.

When they reached the girl, the whole platoon was gathered together without approaching the girl, with hesitant expressions.

-What's going on? -asked Garrick.

-Look for yourselves -said Sorrengail.

Surrounding them was an unconscious girl wrapped in a kind of sphere created from golden dust, which seemed to come from some kind of stone she wore in a small pendant around her neck.

-Maybe it's a rune -suggests Sorrengail.

-Impossible, the runes have another shape, this looks like a simple stone -Emery contradicts her.

-Xaden... this girl looks like... -Garrick whispers, paralysed.

Xaden doesn't answer, just stares at the girl while his hands start shaking uncontrollably. 

-Remember to breathe -Sgaeyl tells her in the softest voice she can muster. 

Without being able to help himself, he began to move his hand closer to the sphere. 

-Xaden, be careful -says Garrick.

Surprisingly, Xaden, unlike the others, was able to touch the sphere without being expelled backwards, it was as if that strange magic recognized him, so much so that when he touched the girl's face he felt a caress on the arm he had inside the sphere before they disappeared. In one of the girl's closed hands, Xaden noticed that she was carrying a small blanket, he gently removed it from her hand and inspected it.

That malek will take him away soon because this blanket was identical to the one his mother made for him while she was pregnant and that he had stored in his closet.

-What are we going to do? She is the only survivor and it wouldn't hurt for her to be seen by a healer even if she has no wounds -Sorrengail asks.

-I guess we'll have to look in another town for a family to take care of her -says Heaton. 

-We should wait for her to wake up and find out what the hell that necklace is -suggests Emery.

-Of course, because a girl who has just lost his home and family is going to tell you whatever you want -said Garrick sarcastically.

-Stop it. Gather everything, we are going back to Aretia -said Xaden without taking his eyes off the girl. 

-But the mission is for 5 days, he has just arrived -Sorrengail argued. 

-I don't give a shit, we let's take this girl to Aretia. 

-I don't think you're thinking it through- Emery says. 

-I didn't ask for an opinion, I said what I will do- Xaden says coldly, now looking at them. 

-Relax,  let's go to Aretia, okay? We have to talk about the Venin's approach to Aretia anyway- Garrick says in a conciliatory tone. 

Emery snorts but nods, as do the others who notice Xaden's tense and dangerous expression, they head for their dragons and leave Garrick with him alone.

-Maybe it's a coincidence -suggests Garrick.

-This blanket is identical to the one my mother made for me, not to mention how similar their faces look. Besides, why has that strange orb only allowed me to touch it? Whatever it is, this girl has something.

-Whatever it is, it will be all right -his friend tries to comfort him by patting him on the back.

Xaden grabbed the girl and gently carried her to where the others were and lifted her on top of Sgaeyl in front of him so that her body rested against him. To his surprise, his dragoness didn't mind carrying someone who wasn't her rider.

-Thank you -Xaden said to his dragon.

-I know when I must put aside my principles for my rider -she replied.

Xaden didn´t respond. He was too lost in his thoughts about the unconscious girl in front of him.

-It's no use falling into a cloud of uncertainty now, you'll have time to know and think when we get to Aretia -Sgaeyl advised him.

The rider tried to follow her advice but found it impossible, he just wanted to get to Riorson house and for the girl to wake up. He had a lot of questions and one of his mental pain drawers was threatening to come out.

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 16

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 16: may I have this dance?

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A hurricane ransacked the nation.

The cities and towns that didn't have many Demons, or those who weren't well versed in their magic, suffered greatly. Overlords with heavy control on their territory did well to keep the raging storm from destroying them. The Hazbin Haven was among those who came through the storm unscathed.

Alastor kept the Haven wrapped in a safe little bubble that allowed only the rain to get through. However, he couldn't keep it up all the time and so, when he needed some time to recover, he had me do it. I found it surprisingly easy to control the weather so the magic hand off was fluent and easy.

Demons hated the rain, though, so construction on the site was momentarily paused. Yet I noticed the children, Demon or Human, loved to play in the rain. The littles were determined to make themselves as dirty and mud-coated as they possibly could, while the older ones were more prone to just laying in the rain staring up at the cloudy sky. Reagan was among them, making sure none of the littles wandered too far out of the slightly invisible shield. Whenever I wasn't keeping up the shield, I was down with Reagan in the rain.

"So how's Lucas?" I teased, nudging her with my shoulder. We sat under an overhang of one of the buildings, both holding out a hand to the rain. The others played in front of us.

"Fine," she said lightheartedly, trying to pass it off. Lucas had joined the Haven a few weeks ago. He had a complicated past. He lost his father four years ago, before the Demons revealed themselves, and has been trying to survive with his sickly mother. It wasn't until about a year ago that she remarried. The man had hidden the fact that he was a Demon and when Humans started hunting him, he took Lucas and his mother into Hell to escape. Lucas had seen the posters for the Haven and, after much arguing with his step-father, came to join us soon after. He had deeply rooted untrustworthiness for Demons since. It was no wonder he and Reagan, who had no magic whatsoever, hit it off.

"Any new updates?" I pressed with a smile.

"Nope."

"I do."

Reagan turned her head to look at me. "On what?"

"On him." I tilted my head up so my smile turned into a smirk. "Want to know?"

Her eyebrows furrowed and I realized just then how much she was starting to take after me. "Sure."

"You know how you two run into each other a lot on the main street? That's not an accident. When he sees you, he runs to one of the other buildings and pretends to be walking from the direction."

"You don't know that." She crossed her arms.

"You've seen me. I'm always on the porch when I'm not doing something." She turned to watch the youngsters playing in the mud. "Oh come on," I shook her shoulder gently, "admit that you like it."

"He's just being nice."

"That's the point, sweetheart." I leaned my head on her shoulder and wrapped an arm around her back. "So do the boy a favor and let him. Maybe he'll even ask for a kiss--"

She shoved me away and covered her ears. Her face was bright red. I continued to press the tease, quickly earning a tackle from her. We rolled out into the rain and started to wrestle, the others stopping to watch us. Our feet slipped in the mud and her small stature allowed me to pick her up and toss her to the side. She tried going for my feet to make me fall but I just went with the momentum and rolled over, taking her with me.

Eventually we were out of breath and stopped the play fight when we had put distance between us again. We were both coated in dirt and soaked to the bone. I noticed Lucas, his blond hair a stark contrast to his dark environment, and casted a sly smile at Reagan. She followed my gaze, defenses dropping as he walked over to talk to her. I gently nudged her back with my fingers and walked up to the house to change.

Alastor stood on the porch, watching and waiting. I came up on the steps and used magic to take the mud off my feet so I wouldn't track it through the house.

"I do not understand your desire to do that," he said.

"It's just fun." I faked a genuine, confused look. "Do you know what that is?"

He dulled his claws and gently shoved my head away so I stumbled back. "We have very different ideas of fun."

"You're right," I walked into the house, a smile on my face, and made my way up the stairs, "Mine are better."

"I left an outfit for you on your bed," he changed the subject, making me stop at the top of the stairs. "We have an Overlord meeting tonight." He then fizzled into the shadows before I could say anything.

As I expected, it was a dress. It was a deep red and silky smooth, and I was actually excited to try it on. I showered quickly and used magic to dry out my hair.

The front of the skirt came just past the middle of my shins while the back stretched just a few inches further above my ankles. It hugged the middle of my figure perfectly. The top half was form fitting but loose, not hugging anything too much to distract wandering eyes, and the sleeves flared at the end. The edges of the shirt, from the skirt to the sleeves to the area around my chest, were all lined in white.

I looked at myself in my Demon form. I looked astounding. I looked elegant. For once, I actually really liked the way I looked with my Demon attributes. I looked scary but beautiful. Gone was my scarred, child-like face and in that place was a young woman with experience.

A knock came at my door a second before Alastor stepped in. His eyes immediately looked me up and down, smile turning to yellow teeth. "You look gorgeous."

Heat rose in my cheeks and I looked down at the fabric to avoid his eyes. "Thank you," I said quietly.

He walked behind my back and looked at me in the mirror. He twirled his claw and I watched my hair smooth out and fall loosely over my shoulders. That topped off my look entirely and my mouth dropped open a little. Before I could say or do anything else, he pulled something from his pocket and draped it over my neck. It was a silver necklace of one of his symbols: a circle inside another with two arrows crossing each other.

A strange feeling creeped in my chest at the sight of Alastor standing behind me, colors complimenting each other perfectly.

We then walked to the symbol on the cliff, Alastor using magic to keep the rain from touching us. I asked about keeping the Haven safe while we were gone and he said Husker would take care of it if the storm grew worse.

I let him put an arm around my shoulder and wrapped my own around his back. Warmth merged with the energy, elevating my confidence despite the looming palace in front of me. Lucifer had been the one to call the surface Overlords under Alastor's request. At first, the King of Hell wasn't interested in obliging, but after Alastor had explained the instance with Blackwater, he found it necessary.

We were one of the first to arrive. I recognized none of them until Vox and his trio walked in not long after. The TV screen caught sight of me and instantly made his way over. I clenched my jaw and forced everything in me not to bristle.

"Well if it isn't a pleasure to be seeing you again, sweetheart." He gave a short, half bow. "I must say, what a show you gave me with that Striker fellow."

"It's a good thing you broadcasted it," Alastor said in my place, "Perhaps your audience will know not to test her again." A smile pulled at the corner of my mouth.

"Oh for sure, she's definitely trending," Velvette popped out from my behind me and stood too close for comfort, "as a cheater."

"We are Demons, darling," Alastor didn't skip a beat, "we don't play by the rules." He placed a hand on my shoulder and soothed the anger and embarrassment running through me.

"I must say you look stunning tonight," Vox drew my attention back to him. He reached for my hand but Alastor was fast, grabbing the man's wrist and pulling it far away from mine.

"Do not touch her," he hissed.

Vox took a step closer to him, mouth in a wide, sharp smile. "What are you gonna do, Alastor? You can't do anything while we're in Lucifer's palace."

"You are free game once this meeting is done." Alastor looked undeterred, smile nearly matching Vox's.

My nose curled at a familiar scent. I turned my head to see a trail of pink smoke coming from Valentino, the ring owner who had drugged me the first time. I casted wind to dissipate the smoke and hardened my stare at the Overlord. "You could be so much more than his accessory."

"So true." Velvette snapped a selfie with Alastor, Vox, and me in the background.

"I'm the guardian of a safe haven," I answered, trying hard not to let my voice shake, "saving Demons and children from persecution. What are you doing?"

"Having secure territory keeps plenty of Demons and their families safe from Humans," Valentino replied. He leaned his waist to the side and put one of his many hands on it.

"On their own free will?" I taunted, eying his pink smoke.

"That depends on what you consider free will."

Before anyone could say anything else, the doors to the usual meeting room opened. Alastor dropped Vox's wrist and wiped his claw on his coat. Vox's smile turned into a snarl as we walked into the room. Just like before, the surface Overlords brought a second-hand that stood behind them against the many pillars.

"Alastor called this meeting." Lucifer joined us a moment later, sitting himself at the head of the table. It was strange, but oddly satisfying, to see him in a commanding aura. From my sessions with the King of Hell, I discovered he was a lot more anxious, depressed, and self conscious than he let on to others. "So, what do you want?"

"How many of you know the name Blackwater?" Alastor immediately got to the point. Only three of the twelve present Overlords raised their hand. Vox was one of them. "Do you know what he does?"

"He's an inventor," Vox answered.

"Of what?" Alastor pressed.

"He's an inventor. Anything is on the table, but he likes bringing back technology from before the Great Collapse."

Alastor turned to look at the rest of the table. "Blackwater has recently created a device that uses Demon's blood to allow Humans with Slight magic to have more than they're born with." Murmurs spread through the Overlords. "And in case you haven't noticed, two surface Overlords are missing tonight." Heads turned to examine who was present and who wasn't.

"So Humans can use more elemental magic. Why is that concerning for us?" Valentino asked, taking another puff of his smoke.

"If he's managed to craft a device that can gift a Human elemental magic, imagine what he can do with a powerful Overlord's magic."

The room fell silent. I glanced at Lucifer who seemed deeply concerned about this. His apple cane sat in his lap and if I listened close, I could just barely hear the sound of his glove gripping it painfully tight.

"Blackwater has been operating in the grey area of public and private for some time. He has several factories around the nation and has been presenting them to a private class of individuals. It wasn't until recently that he has started to go fully public and advertise his inventions. I want to know why he wasn't someone's concern before this point." He sent pointed looks at those who had answered earlier that they knew of his name.

"He wasn't and still isn't a threat," Vox said first.

"If he has factories all around the nation, it would make sense that he would go unnoticed," the woman with the huge white horns spoke next. "If all his assets were in one's territory, then of course it would cause concern. Sounds as if he knows we don't communicate with each other."

"His factories need to be destroyed. If his operation grows, we will find ourselves against an army of Humans with our magic." Alastor had a commanding tone and it was obvious the other Overlords weren't taking it lightly. Yet, he had a point. Humans with Slight magic still outnumbered Demons ten to one and if they were given a way to harness more powerful magic, it would lead to a devastating war.

"If we want to stay united against the Humans and keep Hell from becoming even more overrun," Lucifer finally gave his insight, "then we will need to communicate with each other more often. I will make these meetings more frequent. For now, each of you should search your territory for any of Blackwater's assets."

The meeting ended soon after, each Overlord leaving the palace before teleporting back to the surface. Lucifer pulled me aside to ask about Charlie. He didn't want her to going out with me to break up the ring fights anymore. If Blackwater was serious, having the blood of the Princess of Hell would be the worst thing possible. He knew if he told Charlie not to do it, then she wouldn't listen on the account of "not needing to be protected anymore". I reassured him that I would make sure she didn't go with me.

It was still raining by the time Alastor and I teleported back to the house. The storm blocked out the moon, casting the whole haven in darkness. I could feel that Husker wasn't in the house and couldn't help but smile. Recently, he had been spending some of his nights with a certain Demon in the huts.

I walked through the living room to the stairs but stopped when the radio turned on. Green magic whisked out of sight from the dials as a slow, unfamiliar song began to play (I love you for sentimental reasons - Nat King Cole).

"Will you indulge me, darling?" Alastor bowed low in front of me and held out a hand. "It has been some time since I last danced with anyone. And you do look astounding in that dress."

Nerves prickled in the back of my neck. "I uh...I don't really know how to dance." I backed away with my hands raised.

"It is more of a sway, then a dance. It's rather easy to teach." He didn't move from where he bowed, hand still outstretched. "I suspect there won't be another time I can ask for a dance from you."

"Why do you want to?"

"You have intrigued me, dear. And I do so miss dancing."

For awhile I still didn't answer. The song played softly in the background and Alastor's appearance seemed less sharp and intimidating than usual. He straightened up but still held his hand out, eyes refusing to leave mine.

"It is easy to learn," he pressed gently, "I will not make fun."

Against my better judgement, I stepped forward and placed my claw in his, letting him pull me from the entryway to the center of the living room. He restarted the song and the fire grew, illuminating the room with its orange glow. The muscles in my body tensed as he raised our clasped hands and slid an arm around my back. I wasn't sure where to put my free hand and settled on the outside of his arm, anxiously pinching the fabric between my fingers.

He moved slow, taking one step towards me then followed with his other foot. He shifted his weight side to side then stepped away to repeat. I had my head down as I tried to move in time and prevent myself from stepping on his feet. The sweet piano played in the background as I gradually moved in time with him and the music.

"Head up, darling." His radio filter was gone and his smooth voice filled my ears. It made me tilt my head back to meet his red eyes that were somehow softer. He wore a gentle, simple smile. No teeth. I felt his warm magic seep into my back and force my muscles to relax. My shoulders lowered, as did the fear, and moving in step with him became second nature.

His smile grew and he tilted his head to the side. The gesture made my face grow warm and I looked at the fire instead. His arm around my back pulled me closer so I was flush against his chest. I instinctively pushed with my free hand but he held me firmly, patiently waiting for me to look up at him. And it worked.

"You're a natural," he praised.

The song ended too soon. Before he could play another song, I let go of his hand and put both hands on his chest, trying to put space between us again. In retaliation, he interlocked his fingers behind my back and kept me securely against him.

He was the master of silence. I kept my gaze averted while his bore into the side of my face. I made sure to keep my claws off his jacket in case they caught a thread, but my foot claws openly dug into the carpet. My tail was wrapped around my own leg.

Another slow song came on, this one slightly more upbeat and full of violins in the beginning (welcome to my world - Jim reeves).

"My mother taught my sister and I how to dance when we were little," he admitted.

"Your sister?" I suddenly stopped trying to push away from him. We were now simply swaying side by side, no footwork needed.

"That's the woman you saw in my memories." His smile was still gentle but there was an edge to it. Was it perhaps pain from the thought of his deceased sibling? "She is my twin sister."

There was prolonged silence as I looked between his eyes and observed the strange expression on his face. Alastor, the Radio Demon, once had a twin sister. "Wow," was all I managed.

"Surprised again?" He tilted his head in the other direction.

"Well...yeah. I'm not sure why, though."

He let out a small chuckle. "She loved to dance. Once my mother taught us how to slow dance she could never stop. She explored different styles and settled on the more upbeat and sporadic ones. Couldn't say I minded it much myself, either."

My eyes were wide and glued to him now. That was the most he had ever shared about his past in the near four years I had known him.

"She caught everyone's attention," he went on, "and I was always there to keep the bad ones away. We couldn't ever be separated." His smile faltered and I guessed he was now thinking of her death that did in fact separate them.

"I'm surprised you had the time to watch her. I'm sure you were also popular on the dance floor." The compliment had slipped out and inwardly cringed when his smile turned into a smirk.

"Perhaps I am sensing jealousy?" he teased, lowering his face closer to mine. His presence was sitting comfortably around my shields.

"You-you just...you know...you clearly know how to dance so I'm sure you were...well liked when you were..." my voice trailed off. I didn't want to say younger because that almost sounded insulting.

"Indeed you're right, I was quite different in the first fifty years of my life." He straightened up again and pushed his presence gently against my mind. "I had many good dance partners and acquaintances, but my sister always came first."

His tentacles crawled out from behind and gently wrapped around my wrists. He pulled my hands up so they would stretch over his shoulders and lock behind his head. The proximity made my hair stand on edge, a nervous bolt sprinting through my body.

"While you may not have danced before, music seems to have an effect on you as well." His clasped hands tightened ever so slightly behind my back. My tip of my tail tapped the floor nervously.

"W-well I...my mother...she uh...she...she had a radio in the cage. I remember falling asleep to all kinds of music." I hoped he couldn't heart how loud my heart was beating.

"It's no wonder you wait outside my room to listen, then."

I immediately pulled my hands back at the revelation of being caught. He wrapped his arms further around so he was gripping his elbows and holding me in place, trying to contain his laughter.

"Do not be embarrassed," he tried to reassure, "I'm quite flattered, actually." I tried pushed on his arms, face bright red and gaze averted to the floor. "I'm quite pleased you do not hate me so anymore." He dared to unwrap one arm and gently, but firmly, pulled my unwilling chin up to look him in the eyes. "Do you still despise me?"

My claws pressed into his arms, dangerously close to puncturing his skin and putting holes in his jacket. "I...well...I don't think so. Now that you're treating me properly."

Another chuckle. "I do suppose I wasn't as nice as I should've been when we first met."

The violins slowed to a stop and the room fell silent, save for a an occasional pop from the fire. My pounding heart blocked out all other noises. I suddenly became aware of his thick, earthy scent tinged with sweat. I tried to focus on that particular one as his breath, which smelled much like his last meal, fanned my cheeks.

His eyes moved so quickly and slightly that I almost didn't catch it. And even though I did, I still wasn't prepared for when he closed the distance, gently pressing his lips on mine in a careful kiss. My eyes widened and my ears and hair stood up. I wanted to run but wanted to stay. I wanted to scream but wanted to continue. My claws tapped his sleeves vividly, my body as stiff as wood.

He fixed that a second later, sending his magic up my back and spreading to the rest of my muscles. It forced everything to relax and he opened his mind to me. My eyes closed as he drew me further in.

I didn't realize how deep I had fallen until I was watching a memory from his eyes. He was speaking to Rosie in her store again.

"Oh Alastor, can't you see? You're falling in love with the dear thing." Her voice echoed like she was in a bigger room.

"I am not," he hissed. "Our connection has strengthened, that is all."

"Well, falling in love is a process after all, dearie."

"I am fond of her but I do not love her." Ouch. "Our bond will provide us with more energy and she may finally be able to handle her own magic."

I pulled out of his mind too quickly. It felt like a rug burn on my mind as I shoved him away and tripped backwards on my tail. He nearly lost his own balance and pressed a claw to his head.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" I practically screamed.

"Perhaps I miscalculated—"

"Miscalculated? Miscalculated!? This isn't something to miscalculate. I'm not your accessory! I'm not something to be manipulated, I'm not a tool to be fined and sharpened so you could use me!"

I threw my hands up and spun in a circle, tail whipping about furiously.

"Ugh I can't believe I let you trick me into thinking you actually cared."

Alastor tried to say something but it never left his mouth. For once he was at a loss for words. His yellow smile was plastered on his face but his eyebrows were showing a strangled emotion I had never seen before. His ears were as pinned back as my own.

When he failed to say anything, I whisked up the stairs and slammed the door. I threw the dress on the window seat along with the necklace, pulled on an old outfit I hadn't worn in a while, and slipped out the window.

Althea would let me sleep in one of the empty beds for the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

Eat up my little devils >:)

[helionpegasus]

Hello! :) I saw your post a bit ago saying you were accepting requests. Anyways, can I please req Azriel x Reader. Reader and Azriel announce they're FINALLY mated, after YEARS off the IC being like, "Are you sureeeeeee you aren't together??" and them laughing it off. But.... Mor forces it out by being like, "Y/N, I have this cute friend...." and she's saying that because she wants them to finally admit it. Honestly I NEED FLUFF. Please, and thank you so so so much!!! <33

i'm on the mood of doing hc, and thought this req would match it so well. i hope you don't mind this being hc 🥹

- You met Mor at Rita's and bounded instantly! Seriously. Born to best friends.

- She presents Azriel to you in the same night, and was like "Cauldron, you look so good together".

- Azriel was slightly drunk that night. Wich made him talk so easily with you. For real, that male was babbling.

- A week after you met him again in a Coffee Shop and said "Hi, Az!" and he just awkwardly waved back.

- You said that to Mor in the weekend and she said he was just shy.

- Later you discovered that this male was shy around YOU.

- Azriel's confidence it's aways high towards any female he finds attractive, but towards YOU? The bat baby get rosy cheeks.

- Your relationship starts to get closer once he returns of a mission with a big cut on his chest and go directly to Madja, but she wasn't there. There was only her apprentice, you.

- You freak out a little, 'cause there was TOO MUCH BLOOD. But do your job really well, and Az was so grateful for you.

- You end up being the first person he runs to everytime he's needing medical assistance.

- A sword slice in his back during a battle? You fix it.

- An ice burn from spending too much time in the annual snowball fight? You can easily recover it.

- A paper cut from the multiple papers in his desk from all his missions of the month? He runs to you.

- The Inner Circle started to be unsure of your friendship when the two of you got so drunk that ended sleeping in the floor of the living room.

- Your head landing comfortably on his arm. His head resting on yours and his wing covering you body because the heat in the fireplace was long gone.

- They were almost sure you guys do have a things when Cassian says "It would be a pleasure to have you in my bed"

- The shadowsinger was FUMING. He was ready to start a battle with Cass in the middle of the dinner table. (Rhys had to calm him down)

- After that Az had a moment with himself to settle down and recognize his own feelings.

- The male was deeply IN LOVE. There was nothing more to do other than accept it.

- He gained the courage to ask you out on a date.

- "A romantic kind of date?" You asked him.

- "Yes." He said. His brain ready to combust if you reject him.

- "Sure. Where we're going" And the Illyrian male never smiled more brightly.

- You guys go to an Art Exhibit in Velaris. With works of multiple artist towards Prythian.

- His heart skips a beat everytime he sees your eyes shining seeing a piece you really liked.

- Later you go to a restaurant to have dinner, and you start having a deep conversation about the paintings and sculptures that got a place in your hearts.

- Azriel listening to every tiny feeling you had during the visit.

- He's a gentleman so he pays the bill and walked you to your apartment.

- Once you reached the door, you take the first step and kissed him.

- Your first kiss with each other was like landing on clouds. His lips so soft and gentle. His hands finding their place in your waist and in the back of your neck. Your arms around his shoulders.

- When you distance yourselves for a little breath and locked gazes, the bond snapped. For both of you.

- The world makes sense now.

- Once you two got inside that apartment, you don't leave it for 2 weeks. (You know what I mean)

- Azriel said to Rhys he got an emergency with his mom. Because he don't want to share any bit of you with anyone yet.

- "I think it's time for us to leave our bubble." You says caressing his hair. His face tucked in the space where your neck meets your shoulder.

- "I think you're right." He whispers, but makes no intention of leaving the place in your arms.

- Your bubble of happiness and comfort was gone in the day after. When you too appeared in the dinner on the River House.

- You arrived there first because Feyre needed some help with Nyx.

- Azriel got some duties after giving himself the sweet taste of 2 weeks without working.

- The mismatch made you sit apart from each other. But you stayed the whole time sending each other love pulls through the bond.

- Somehow the conversation went to relationships. And Mor says that you all should go to Rita's and find a lover for the night.

- You can feel Az mood change through the bond.

- "Mor, I think we all settled down at this point" Feyre said between giggles.

- "I, Y/N and Az are fully single" she says looking at you.

- The bond was burning hot from Azriel's jealously.

- "Y/N, I have a really cute friend that I think you'll like to meet" Mor said.

- "She's not interested." Azriel says in a hard tone.

- The whole IC stops eating to look at him, dumbfounded.

- Cassian with the biggest grim ever sharing glances with Rhys, probably talking in their minds.

- Feyre with wide eyes looking at Azriel and how he was ready to stab Mor with the knife he was cutting the meat.

- Mor switching glances between you and Az.

- "Do you guys want to tell something to us?" Rhysand asks leaning his back comfortably in the chair, ready to hear the story.

- Azriel only looks at you, before letting go of the thick shadows around him. Freeing his scent to your friends.

- Not only his scent, but YOUR scent. And mostly the scent of THE BOND.

- Cass didn't waste time and hugged his friend with shouts of happiness.

- Feyre and Mor coming to you while Nyx was babbling in his mother arms not understanding what's happening but happy whatsoever.

- Amren, Nesta and Elain just smiling and giving their congratulations.

- "So... Emergency with your mom, right?"

[finnglas]

Let me tell you a funny story about baseball.

I'm not a sports gay. I enjoy some sports a moderate amount. (I discovered during the 2024 Paralympics that I really enjoy women's wheelchair basketball. Hot ladies with shoulders, and no squeaky basketball shoe sounds to make me want to rupture both eardrums! But I digress.) The one sport that I've traditionally enjoyed, both playing and watching, is baseball.

For a brief period of time, around 2008-2009, I followed MLB pretty closely. I very carefully decided I was going to have A Team that was my team, and deliberately chose said team. I had some requirements: I wanted a team who was in the American League, not the National League (don't ask, idk), and I wanted one that had been around since the beginning of said league, not one of the newcomers. I also wanted them to have some connection to something I enjoyed, even if it was only that I liked the team uniforms. I ended up with a primary team (the Chicago White Sox) and a secondary team (the Boston Red Sox). (Did I call myself a polysoxxer? I did. Leave me alone.)

Anyway. I followed them religiously. I had the best experience of living in Charlotte, NC, where the White Sox had a farm team in the Charlotte Knights, and I knew exactly which players were in town while they were recovering from an injury - oh, and one time they played an exhibition game and I paid extra for a seat directly behind the White Sox dugout, and was in arm's reach of Carlos Quentin, my absolute favorite player.

Anyway. Things happened. The White Sox traded Quentin and fired Ozzie Guillen. Half my Red Sox got traded - some of them to the *mutters* Yankees. Varitek retired in 2012. I got busy. I hit a period of deep clinical depression. I finally admitted to myself I was queer and started getting more into connecting with the queer scene in town. And I quit following both teams. They weren't "mine" anymore.

For a period of several years, any time I'd express any interest in baseball, people would ask who my team was, and I'd joke that I needed to do some interviews and find a new one. Couldn't be the Tampa Bay Rays because I'm still mad at them for changing the name from the Devil Rays because the new owner is some weirdo Christian, didn't really care about the rest. (My dad, who has been loyal to the St Louis Cardinals since he was eight years old, is baffled as to why I didn't just come over to his team. Well, Dad, they're National League for one thing.)

Well, a few weeks ago, I was traveling for work and I wanted some background noise in the hotel room so I turned on the television. It was on MLB, but on commercial break. I was like you know what? It's time I got a new baseball team. Whoever is playing, I'm going to pick one of these two teams as my new team, provided it's not the Cardinals or the Rays.

Reader. Do you know who was playing that night?

It was the Chicago White Sox vs the Boston Red Sox.

Anyway so I got back together with both my exes during the worst season in the White Sox's history, and every time I see a new update about how bad they're doing I just have to be like, yep, that's my team.