#i just feel like it will bring up so much that i’ll feel a lot worse before i feel better and idk if i’m in the right state for that now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seeingivy · 2 days ago

Text

it's nice to have a friend

eren jaeger x f!reader

**part of my canary mate fic

previous part here

[lizontopoftheworld]: you know i’m about to do something huge today?

[busstopbilly]: We’re finally getting married?

[lizontopoftheworld]: NO

[lizontopoftheworld]: okay wait that sounded mean

[lizontopoftheworld]: like i was against the idea

[lizontopoftheworld]: not that i’m for the idea

[lizontopoftheworld]: not that i’m not not for the idea

[lizontopoftheworld]: ANYWAYS

[lizontopoftheworld]: you have to stop flirting this type of thign is not good for my brain

[busstopbilly]: Everything alright?

[lizontopoftheworld]: …

[lizontopoftheworld]: just have a lot on my mind

[lizontopoftheworld]: kind of scatterbrained

[lizontopoftheworld]: i am going to confront the prick.

[busstopbilly]: Wow, what gives?

[busstopbilly]: Give him hell.

[lizontopoftheworld]: nothing serious actually

[lizontopoftheworld]: it’s just a thing for something we’re doing together

[lizontopoftheworld]: BUT it’s a big deal because i’ve never really given input on this thing because i’ve assumed that he doesn’t necessarily want my input on this thing? granted i don’t think he takes advice from anyone but still

[lizontopoftheworld]: i know what i’m saying is right and that i should so i’m going to

[busstopbilly]: :)

[busstopbilly]: Proud of you.

[busstopbilly]: Are you nervous?

[lizontopoftheworld]: i’ve prepared three counter arguments

[lizontopoftheworld]: he literally will not catch me lacking and i’m going to try and keep my cool so that he knows that his dumb comments aren’t getting me

[busstopbilly]: This is as much rehearsing as it takes for you to speak to your sister-in-law.

[lizontopoftheworld]: god that’s a lost cause don’t even bring that up

[busstopbilly]: Sometimes it feels like you’re a little harsh on her.

[lizontopoftheworld]: SHE’S INSUFFERABLE BILLY

[busstopbilly]: I’ll table that comment for another time. You’ve got to keep your wits about you.

[busstopbilly]: Good luck, pretty girl.

[lizontopoftheworld]: what’s up with you?

[busstopbilly]: I am all types of frustrated.

[busstopbilly]: It’s really hard to figure out what to do with what I’m working on. It’s aggravating because I know that it’s something that is entirely within my capabilities but I just can’t.

[busstopbilly]: I’ve been working non-stop, been staring at my computer, and just getting so fucking frustated. It’s like I’m defective. Doesn’t help that it’s unreasonably high pressure at this point, but…

[lizontopoftheworld]: UGH im so sorry i didn’t mean to just start ranting at you with my own stuff

[lizontopoftheworld]: you know, you’re very smart and capable. you’re going to figure it out eventually.

[busstopbilly]: It’s weird. I was annoyed that I had the role I did before, but I fear I’m getting way too involved. I’m starting to care too much, which is never a good sign.

[lizontopoftheworld]: it’s a good thing that you care

[lizontopoftheworld]: and isn’t this close to like real medical stuff that you wanted to do?

[lizontopoftheworld]: just a sign that it’s something that’s actually stimulating. that you care about and want to work towards.

[busstopbilly]: You always look for the positives.

[lizontopoftheworld]: you should take notes, sweetheart

[lizontopoftheworld]: and you shouldn’t demand perfection of yourself. you are not defective if something doesn’t work out. you’re still a regular person, it’s okay to get stumped or struggle with it a little bit.

[busstopbilly]: You know, my dad DOES demand perfection of me.

[lizontopoftheworld]: and that’s why we hate your dad.

[lizontopoftheworld]: i know you demand perfection of yourself too, that wanting to do well is natural, but be a little bit nice to yourself.

[lizontopoftheworld]: you’re going to figure it out.

[busstopbilly]: Check back in at the end of the week. Hopefully, I’m still put together.

[busstopbilly]: By the way.

[busstopbilly]: Sweetheart?

[busstopbilly]: Do you mean that in a patronizing way or am I really your sweetheart?

[lizontopoftheworld]: patronizing

[busstopbilly]: You’re killing me.

[lizontopoftheworld]: i’m sorry, sweetheart <3

you find eren in the main conference room, early in the morning on thursday. you can tell that he’s hard at work – old scans from sessions printed against the wall that he’s made notes on, intelligible jargon on the glass whiteboards, and his hair an uncharacteristic mess – surely from the amount of times he’s run his hands through his hair.

you clear your throat, recalling all the talking points that you had rehearsed in the mirror the night prior, as you knock on the door and cautiously enter the room. you note that the smell of coffee is overwhelming – the freshly brewed cup sitting two feet away from you – and that the trashcan seems to be overflowing with empty energy drinks.

eren doesn’t even notice your presence, his green eyes still fixed to the scan that he’s staring at, his hand raised in the air with the pen. you note that he’s wearing his glasses, that it looks like he hasn’t slept since you saw him yesterday, as you walk up to his side.

“working hard, hm?” you ask.

eren’s startled by the sound of your voice, jumping in the slightest, as you widen your eyes and feel your cheeks flush. way to start off on a good note.

“sorry! sorry, i figured you noticed that i was here when i walked up to you.”

“were you saying something to me?” he asks.

you shake your head. you can tell that your presence has shattered some semblance of his concentration – that he’s annoyed with you because of it – as he sets his pencil down and basically collapses into the chair across from you. you follow suit, sitting down in the chair too, as you uncomfortably shift against the worn out foam.

“i’m too fucking tired to have a fucking conversation with you right now.” he utters.

you fight the urge to scoff.

“does talking to me truly take so much effort?” you retort.

eren rolls his eyes, before slumping back down into the chair.

“when you’re so hellbent on arguing, it does. and you don’t seem to talk to me otherwise.”

“you don’t have to argue if you just agree with me. and why on earth would i be so hellbent on arguing with the most insufferable person that i know?”

eren shrugs, clearly irritated.

“you tell me, y/n.”

you clear your throat, cracking all the knuckles in your hand.

“i’ve come to talk to you about colt. the trial. you can’t tell falco that he’s on the verge of getting kicked out.”

eren pinches the bridge of his nose.

“well, obviously –”

“his brother means a lot to him. his accident was really traumatic for his family, and even though he promised he wouldn’t get so self-involved, he obviously is. i mean, it’s his brother. he can’t help it. and there’s a lot of hope that this is giving him and i’d be scared to prematurely stop him in his tracks if we didn’t need to. they both talk about it so much that it would demoralize gabi too.”

“oh, it definitely would, and -”

“and they’re both sweet kids. their sincere passion and interest in the project is so sweet, i would hate for them to feel like it’s not working, to think that all of their work, our work, has amounted to nothing. i think that you and i could figure out which treatment we should do this upcoming week on our own, if you’ll take my help, and then we can go from there.”

“well, i - “

you can’t help but ball your fists in your lap.

“look, i know you don’t really like me, that you probably think that i’m being stupid and soft-hearted and whatever right now, but this means a lot to me. and i know that basically means nothing to you, but i’m just asking you as your colleague? friend? whatever it is that we are to just do this for me. i’ve never asked you for anything before, i don’t think i ever will again, and i’d just…really appreciate it if you could –”

you’re promptly cut off from giving your entire spiel because eren reaches forward, placing both of his warm hands on your cheeks, in efforts to get you to stop talking. you look forward, noting that his eyes are so deeply green – that he really does look exhausted – as he applies a firm pressure.

“stop talking please.” he murmurs, his tone soft. almost like you’ve pained him my rambling for so long.

“what?” you whisper.

eren lets go, the warmth retreating from your face, as he leans back in his chair.

“you didn’t hear a word i said, did you?” he asks, his tone rather soft.

you frown.

“did you say something?”

“i pretty much agreed with you after the first sentence, y/n. don’t know what the fuck you’re blabbing on about.” he murmurs.

“oh. really?” you murmur, slightly embarrassed. you wouldn’t have put so much effort if he was going to give in that easily.

eren gives you a thoughtful nod, before leaning his head against the back of his chair, and rubbing at his eyes.

“i’m well aware that you think i’m not capable of being fond of anyone. but i am, very fond, of both falco and his brother. i would hate to let either of them down or cause anyone unnecessary stress, especially when this entire thing is my idea, so i would like to keep it between us. i was actually intending on having this conversation with you when i arrived.”

“i’ve been here for five hours. it’s almost one in the afternoon, eren.”

eren groans.

“it seems that time has gotten away from me.”

“how long have you been here?”

“since yesterday. i can’t seem to figure out which region to target next.”

you swallow hard.

“did you really stay here the entire time?” you ask.

he nods.

“biked here so that you wouldn’t go out of your way last night.”

you sigh, as you flip through the stack of papers on the table. he’s highlighted a bunch of sentences, underlined and circled random words with questions on the side, as you reach for the closest pens.

“are you okay with me helping? more than i already am? maybe i can try some machine learning with the data we already have and use some of the analysis you’ve been using so…so we can feel more confident? i know that you don’t like me but…”

“stop fucking saying that.”

“what?”

“that i don’t like you. you’re prickly, but i don’t hate anyone.”

prickly?

“i’m consulting a bunch of people who do the stimulation, have a few meetings with specialists this week before i pick what we’re going with next week. we have to make our best chance at an educated guess.”

you nod.

“that’s smart.”

“you..you can join in the meetings, if you’d like. might mention stuff for analysis that would be useful for you to hear in real time instead of repeated from me.” eren offers.

you can’t help but smile.

“you’re really nice when you’re tired.”

“don’t get used to it.”

[busstopbilly]: Hi princess.

[busstopbilly]: Sorry I haven’t messaged in a while, I hope you know I wasn’t ignoring you.

[lizontopoftheworld]: no problem

[lizontopoftheworld]: been working myself to the bone so hard i didn’t notice :O

[busstopbilly]: Tell me about it.

[lizontopoftheworld]: any luck with your project?

[busstopbilly]: Well, I’ve somehow elicited help. She actually offered, but it’s helping things move along. I’ll be able to rest after Wednesday, I guess.

[busstopbilly]: How about you? My pretty girl’s not working too hard, right?

[lizontopoftheworld]: i fell asleep on my laptop the other day. while i was still here. but that’s besides the point.

[lizontopoftheworld]: worried about one of my children in the lab

[busstopbilly]: Your children? With who?

[busstopbilly]: We’d make cute children.

[lizontopoftheworld]: you don’t know what i look like. i don’t know what you look like.

[busstopbilly]: Oh, so you think I’m ugly?

[lizontopoftheworld]: NO

[lizontopoftheworld]: you probably think i’m ugly, you didn’t even oppose that part of that statement

[busstopbilly]: Shut up.

[busstopbilly]: You think you’re SO funny for that one.

[lizontopoftheworld]: it was kind of funny

[busstopbilly]: I know you’re beautiful. Anyways, who are these children? Why are you worried about them? Are they okay?

[lizontopoftheworld]: idk

[lizontopoftheworld]: sitting on some news that would destory them. shit at keeping secrets so i’ve been tryign to keep it together

[lizontopoftheworld]: just want to keep them from being hurt when they don’t have to be?

[busstopbilly]: Awful kind of you to take that all upon yourself. Are you talking to someone about it?

[lizontopoftheworld]: you.

[busstopbilly]: Liz.

[busstopbilly]: Besides me.

[lizontopoftheworld]: you’re enough, you know?

[lizontopoftheworld]: talking to you always makes me feel better

[busstopbilly]: Me too, Liz.

[busstopbilly]: I’d also feel better if I knew you were confiding in a friend. That someone was checking up on you if you’re stomaching something big, which knowing you, you probably are.

[lizontopoftheworld]: you are my friend

[lizontopoftheworld]: and you literally checked up on me today

[busstopbilly]: Liz.

[busstopbilly]: You stress me out sometimes.

[lizontopoftheworld]: no one asked you to invite all this stress on my behalf.

[busstopbilly]: Someone has to do it.

[busstopbilly]: Plus, it’s you.

[busstopbilly]: Kind of just comes naturally. Worrying about you. Wanting to make sure you’re okay.

[lizontopoftheworld]: you’re so cute i wish you were real

you eye the schedule that eren gave you at the end of yesterday that’s taped to the wall of your cubicle. there’s nearly seven meetings crammed into three days, each of which you’re both preparing an exhaustive list of questions for. it’s been back and forth – eren leaving comments on your document, you dropping an article into the chat between the two of you – as you read up on every last thing that you can find.

“we brought you a peace offering.”

you look up to find gabi and falco standing at the side of your cubicle, with smiles on their faces. you return the gesture as they extend their hand out to you, with a cinnamon roll slightly squashed into a napkin, that you gratefully accept from them.

“a peace offering for?”

“well, first of all, we can tell that you and eren have been working tirelessly for the grant.” falco states.

right. the grant that you already have.

not that they needed to know that.

“and no one likes to spend time with eren more than they need to. especially you.” gabi jokes.

you laugh.

“we just have a small request to make.” gabi states.

you shoot them both a look.

“gabi has to talk to pieck when we go to marley for the conference at the end of the month. and well, these type of things make her really nervous. also, i kind of told gabi that you’re not that fond of pieck and now she’s even more nervous to go there, so she really needs you there.” falco rambles.

you glare at the two of them.

“she’s not some demon you have to be scared of, guys.”

“didn’t you say that you avoid going home because of her?” falco asks.

you groan.

“i didn’t tell you that for you to use it against me, falco. and…and she’s really nice actually, it’s just me having an issue with how hard she tries to be…nice sometimes. i’m sure that she will be a perfect picture of kindness when you meet her, it’s just…”

you sigh, gesturing for the two of them to pull up chairs. the two of them give you an excited smile, both scattering to pull up chairs into your space, as you eye the cinnamon roll. it smells sweet, enough to make your stomach growl, as they attentively wait for you to talk in their seats.

you and falco had a close mentor-mentee relationship. and by that, it meant that the two of you were really just friends, and you just gave him advice here and there.

granted, you’re sure half of that is a byproduct of the fact that falco’s been alone in the dorms almost every single day since he’s one of the only students on the fellowship, that you’re the only person around to talk to, but it’s ultimately lead to some very serious conversations you should most definitely not be logging as work on your timesheets.

“well, i’ve told falco a lot about pieck. but not you gabi.” you start.

gabi offers you a smile.

“i have an older brother named porco. he’s…he’s really plucky but you’ll like him when you meet him. he works at my parent’s business back home.”

you smile.

“when porco was in highschool, he started dating pieck. she kind of freaked me out because she was super preppy. captain of the cheer team, on the student council. she went the whole ten miles and we were just…i don’t know. serving people pizza in our free time. begging our teachers to tutor us during lunch. i never really understood what they saw in each other. they have nothing in common. can barely understand each other, from what it seems like.”

“it’s romantic! opposites attract.” falco adds.

you narrow your eyes at him.

“anyways, she went to some big shot law school in a different country. i thought that she was going to break up with him to be honest, but they…they got engaged instead. did long distance their entire first year of marriage because my brother can’t really leave my parents. and she was really sweet through the entire thing, but…but i don’t know. her family wasn’t into it. the fact that we were immigrants. and even after we became citizens, they just thought that we weren’t worth their caliber. pieck didn’t seem to care, not even in the slightest, and she lives in our house now. practices in our city.”

gabi gives you a thoughtful nod.

“she gave up her entire family for your brother? is he cute? ”

you shake your head.

“yeah. i mean, i know they still send her money here and there, but they don’t speak to her at all. guess that’s their way of making sure that she’s taken care of, since they know we can’t.” you murmur.

gabi frowns.

“is she rich?” gabi asks.

falco shoves her in the side.

“you can’t just ask if she’s rich.”

“no, no. y/n’s chill, i can ask her.”

you fight the urge to laugh as you lean closer, giving gabi a coy look.

“super rich. she has a nice cushy job and again, she still gets the money from her parents. she offered to buy me a car when i moved out here so that it would be easier for me.”

gabi gives you a bright smile.

“that’s a good fucking offer. i would ask her for hundreds of things if i were you.”

you shrug.

“it’s weird. it’s just kind of…i don’t know. she offers me a lot of things like that – money, advice – she tries really hard to be a big sister to me. porco’s sweet, but there was a lot of things that he didn’t do. i’m sure he’s told her that i work hard, that i don’t really take help from people, and i guess that’s why she’s so eager to try sometimes. but it just…i don’t know, i can’t bring myself to take help from her when we don’t know each other like that.”

“she’s your sister.” falco deadpans.

you shake your head.

“it’s weird. i’m not saying that it makes sense. and she’s my sister-in-law.”

gabi gives you a nod.

“i know what you mean. you got here on your own, you’re convinced that you can get the rest of the way on your own too.”

“exactly! and i’d owe her something at the end if i did take her help.”

falco frowns at the two of you.

“you know, you both have the same individualistic behavior. i’m not sure that it serves you any purpose. you know you won’t die if you rely on people. maybe she’s just trying to help you because you guys are literally family.”

gabi shakes her head at falco.

“that’s where you’re wrong falco. sometimes, the only person you have is yourself.”

“that sounds awfully morbid.” eren states.

the three of you turn your heads to find him standing at your cubicle, backpack strung over his shoulder, as you give him a nod. you drop your laptop into the backpack, zipping it up, as gabi takes her opportunity to argue with eren.

“that’s literally something that you’ve said to me before.” gabi retorts.

“right. but i have reason to say that. you’re young. you should be at the club or something.” eren responds.

that earns him a laugh from falco, who eren shoots a wink to, before turning back to glare at gabi.

eren’s able to snag the two of you a meeting with one of the people at the forefronts of trans-cranial magnetic stimulation research. you have a sneaking inkling that eren elicited some sort of assistance from his dad to get this arranged – or that his last name was enough of a segway in the first place – and it makes you slightly nervous.

being on such uneven footing, meeting with people who are so important, when you can barely muster your one on one meetings with levi sometimes.

nile dok. he’s got a nice office in an office building downtown, one of the soaring skyscrapers embedded in the middle of the city.

“have you ever met nile dok?” you ask.

eren’s taken aback by the question as the two of you walk in through the roundabout doors, waiting in the small line at the front desk.

“yeah, uh…i’ve known him since i was a kid. he’s friends with my dad.” he murmurs.

you give him a nod, mentally deciding that you deserve a sweet treat later for being able to predict that one, as the two of you walk up to the front desk. the girl sitting at the desk has a short bob and an almost pinched smile as she looks up at the two of you.

“we have a meeting at four with nile dok. the last names are l/n and jaeger.” eren states.

she gives eren a curt nod as she quickly types the names on her computer, before giving you a satisfied smile, indicating that she’s found the appointment. she reaches to her side drawer and slides two badges across the desk, with a small paper for parking validation. but before you can reach for yours, eren snatches it out of your hand, his eyes narrowed in frustration as he holds it up in front of her face.

“what is this?” eren asks.

“her badge?” the girl retorts.

eren shakes her head.

“no, no. this is a guest pass. get her a real one.” eren asserts.

you put your hand on eren’s shoulder, squeezing hard to get his attention, as he drops the guest badge onto the desk and looks over at you.

“it’s not a big deal, eren.” you murmur.

he glares at you.

“why the hell do i deserve a badge with my first and last name on it? did i do something special to deserve that that you didn’t?” he asks.

you shrug.

“well, you were the one who got us the meeting.”

“yeah, i got us the meeting. not just me, you’re part of it too. i don’t entertain any of this guest pass bullshit, so just drop it. print her a real one, please.” eren murmurs.

he turns back to the girl sitting at the desk, who is now shooting him an apologetic grin, as she types almost frantically on her monitor. you can tell that she’s avoided confrontation too much, that eren’s eyes are a little too piercing, because she’s basically pulling the badge out of the printer to speed up the time.

and at the end of the excruciating minute, moreso for her than you, she slides a newly minted badge with your name embellished in bright bold letters. it can’t help but enrage eren more for some reason, as he turns to her one last time.

“was that so hard?” eren asks.

“it’s standard practice, i apologize. he’ll be on the third floor, last door on the right.”

eren gives her one last nod before gesturing to you to follow him, to the long glass door at the end of the hallway. the elevator is empty as the two of you step in, a sweet sugary smell – like the remnants of someone’s perfume were left over – and you clear your throat.

“thank you. for the badge.”

“just prepare yourself, that’s only the half of it. he may be useful to us now, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s going to act like an asshole when we meet with him.” eren mumbles.

the elevator whirrs to a stop and you follow eren down the hallway, your eyes whizzing past all of the certifications and awards that are printed on the wall. you note that eren’s dad’s name is included on some of them, that there are pictures of them standing on big stages – cutting ribbons together, holding glass awards – as you wait in the two chairs at the end of the hall.

“he’s an asshole now?” you whisper.

eren looks over at you, almost like he’s pissed that you’ve even stomached the courage to ask that question, before he slightly slumps in his chair. his hand is shaking at his side in the slightest, his fingers curled into a fist, as he gives you a nod.

“he’s been an asshole. maybe even bigger than my dad.”

you memorize that sentence and catalog it to your memory.

the disdain in his tone. you never realized that eren wasn’t particularly fond of his dad. and figure that it must be irritating every time he comes around the lab.

the door opens, a girl gesturing for the two of you to follow her into the office. eren gives you one last tight lipped smile as you enter the room, overwhelmed all together.

the first thing you note is the smell. it nearly burns your nose – the sharp smell of the alcohol mixed with the heavy smell of the cigarette smoke – as you sit in the chair closest to the door. eren’s at your side, taking his jacket off, before handing it to you and whispering under his breath.

“cover your legs.”

you can feel your stomach churn as you listen to his instructions, draping his jacket over the exposed part of your legs, and balling your fists underneath the fabric.

the second thing that you notice is that nile dok doesn’t look nearly as good as he did in the photos outside. you have a small inkling that the photos outside have to be photoshopped, that he didn’t look half as haggard as he did right now, slumped over his desk chair, and that most of the things that were in this room, were meant to keep up appearances.

the designer suit that he was wearing. the embossed stationery. mahogany wood.

“is this your girlfriend, eren?” nile asks.

you swallow hard. surely he couldn’t be serious.

“she’s my colleague. why would i bring my girlfriend to a work meeting?” eren seethes.

“your dad used to do that before he married carla. thought you were taking notes out of his playbook.”

eren rolls his eyes.

“i would rather roll over in my grave before i did that. and my mom was his colleague too. she wasn’t his girlfriend back then.” eren notes.

nile gives him a boisterous laugh, smacking one of his fists down onto the table – enough to make nearly all of the belongings shake on the desk – before turning over to you. you immediately divert your eyes, noting that the carpet has some very dried out stains, one that take a trained eye to notice, and that he must knock over things quiet often.

and force someone to clean it up.

“what’s your name, pretty?” he asks.

“y/n l/n.” you respond.

“l/n? are you from around here?” he asks.

you shake your head.

“i’m from marley.”

nile gives you a nod.

“what do your parents do research in?”

you bite down on your lip, enough to draw a pool of warm, metallic blood into your mouth.

“they’re business owners back in marley. they don’t do research.” you note.

“oh. what type of business?”

“they own a pizza parlor.”

nile gives you a strange look, one that’s enough to summon eren back into the conversation again.

“they’ve probably worked more in one day than you’ve worked in your entire life, nile. but that’s besides the point. we’ve come here to ask you some questions. both of us.”

“i can drive.” eren offers.

“sorry, what?”

“i can drive. you seem tired.” eren states.

you shake your head.

“i’m fine.”

“you don’t have to be so self-sacrificing all the time. i can tell that you’re tired, that the meeting was more jargon that was really relevant to us because that dumbass was trying to show off, that him being an asshole gets tiring very fast, so just let me drive us home.” eren states.

the tone in his voice indicates that what he’s saying is final, enough for you to relent and place the keys in the palm of his hand before walking around to duck into the passenger seat. and you’re not sure what it is – the fact that eren seemed to be arguing on your behalf, that he seemed more approachable when he was so tired, when the two of you had a common goal – that you ask.

“nile seems very close with your dad.”

“what?” eren asks.

you shrug.

“the pictures and the certificates and stuff. your dad was in all of them.” you murmur.

“oh, right. nile’s kind of his prodigy. he used to live in my house.”

you frown.

“nile is younger than your dad? and he lived in your house?”

“y/n, he’s only a few years older than us.”

“what? why does he look so…ugly? and old?”

eren coughs out a laugh. you look over to note that he’s smiling, that he’s got a dimple on his left side, and that he looks awfully attractive when he does that.

“that’s what being an asshole does to you.” eren notes.

you nod.

“he’s into the exact type of research that my dad does. he came from…from basically nothing and my dad helped him. gave him money for his projects, invested in the company. now, nile’s got a bigger head than he knows what to do with and he feels indebted to my dad so he kisses his ass whatever chance he gets.” eren states.

“why were you so upset about the badge?” you ask.

“they’re doing that to purposely undermine you. because you’re a woman.” eren notes.

you can feel your throat dry.

“really?” you whisper.

“i’ve met hundreds of people like nile. you’re going to meet hundreds of people like nile too. and they do shit like that – purposely choose to omit your name from badges so they can call you sweetheart, act like you’re just there as an accessory and not there to actually make conversation – that stuff. just think about it. i listed your name first on our appointment. and yet they still chose to put my name on the badge and not yours.”

you slump down into your chair.

“oh. i didn’t realize.”

“even down to the very principle, learning someone’s name is a simple sign of respect. the bare minimum of what you can do when you’re conversing with someone. and yet they can barely even humble themselves to do that, because they think they’re more important than you.” eren finishes.

you decide that it’s enough of your curious questions. only because the rest of your curious questions are ones that you sincerely can’t ask.

did they do that to your mom?

is that why it annoys you so much when other people do it to me?

is your mom still a researcher?

you reach for the aux cord that’s hanging in the middle of the seat, before navigating your way to the playlist of scores that you had made to share with eren. the music is quiet, the instrumental nearly lulling your overwhelmed brain to sleep as you press your forehead against the window.

“i like alan. from this score.”

“you’ve watched the imitation game?” you ask.

eren gives you a nod.

“it’s a good movie.” eren responds.

you smile.

“that movie makes me feel better sometimes. to know that women were part of the forefront of science, even back then. and they had hurdles, endless hurdles that i couldn’t even begin to understand, and they’ve paved the way for me.”

you take a deep breath.

“just a reminder that i shouldn’t give up when things are hard for me because they didn’t either, you know?” you whisper.

eren takes a beat before responding.

“granted, it’s unfair you’ve got so many hurdles when you’re already so brilliant to begin with. it’s honestly kind of fucking ridiculous sometimes.”

you can’t fight the urge to smile.

“you think i’m brilliant?” you jest.

eren rolls his eyes.

“oh, come on. you know you’re brilliant.” eren responds.

“what?”

“you’re the only person in the program who got in without doing the bridge program. you must have some insane work under your belt for erwin, levi, and hange to trust you after meeting you just once or twice. over people they’ve known and taught for years by the way.”

you narrow your eyes at him.

“i’m not the only person in the program who got in without doing the bridge program. you’re forgetting someone quite important.”

eren rolls his eyes.

“still. you’re brilliant. would do you well to realize that now before some idiot like nile dok tries to make himself more important than you.”

you look over at him and smile.

“okay. okay, yeah. i promise.”

“and hell. you know how to argue with people. i know you’ve got it in you. you’ve been doing with it since you’ve met me. maybe redirect some of your irritation with me towards people like him.”

you lean back.

“oh, i’ll doubt i’ll be able to do that. you just bring out something special in me, eren.” you deadpan.

“oh, i’m sure.” eren retorts back.

an: anyways

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oimitocat · 2 days ago

Text

TSWCP — CHAP 3

lee minho x m!reader

chapter summary; you just can’t live with the silence. you can’t bear it. this time, you prove minho you really will risk it all for him. will he take it or leave you with your heart bleeding in your hands?

content warning; subtle internalized homophobia + subtle insecurity + tension + constant change of pov (mainly minho’s) + crying + makeout session

content genre; idol au + actor au + fluff + angst + 9th member! reader

word count — 6.4k | m.list | a/n; this sucks btw ;(

it’s cold. frozen and heavy.

that’s how you could describe your heart after what had happened days ago. your mind? static. looking for signal. waiting on connection.

concert tours are coming up. your management had managed to sort something out with the executive directors of the drama so that once you come back from tour with the group, shooting wouldn’t be delayed or a hassle. the thought of it is dreadful. you still have to pull off a few conferences and amidst your tour dates some photo shootings have been crushed into your schedule.

as much as it pisses you off, it also can’t be helped.

“what’s your favorite scene?” an interviewer asks.

you blink, having zoned out. gayoung’s soft touch on your knee brings you back to your current position.

“me personally,” gayoung says with her fluent english. “i really loved the scene where i had to ride a horse.”

you stare at her before smiling. the other actor, another close friend of yours on set is minwoo, he laughs.

“i had to help her five times to climb on that thing because she kept slipping.”

“ah, the cons of being a gnome,” you tease automatically.

everyone busts laughing while gayoung gives you an offended expression. she starts an argument, you feed it.

minho clutches his phone as he watches the interaction from his screen. the video had been posted not so long ago now. he can’t help it, seeing you from a screen and aching. why had he been so stupid? kissing you? confessing?

you two could never be as perfect as you and gayoung are. your chemistry is absolutely beautiful. it’s so natural. how could he ever compare to something like that. much less now? he ruined what he had with you. was a kiss really worth it? absolutely not. not after the rift he created with you became unmendable.

“y/n, since the drama is based on a book, it has been said that the first few episodes on the next season you’ll have to portray heartbreak, betrayal and desperation. will that be hard for you?”

he watches how you shake your head immediately, that joyful expression you had dropped “i have to display a raw emotion, most of the time we as actors have to study how to display something we’ve never experienced but in this case, i’ve actually experienced heartbreak and desperation.”

minho’s eyes widened a bit. are you insane? how could you say that with your girlfriend right next to you?

“could you maybe give us some insight on that?”

“well,” you look up at the ceiling for a moment. then you look back at the screen but for some reason it feels like you’re looking at him. as if you knew he was watching. “as an idol and actor you need to let go of many things you end up carrying, i think everyone does and everyone has someone to seek out and trust enough to simply rant and be yourself with. yet, things kind of change when you grow in the industry… maybe the fans don’t know this about me but i cherish those who i’m close with and will always find a way to keep our bonds, despite how i seem like i’ll let people come and go- it’s nothing like that. filming this drama took a lot out of me…”

“it not only took away my sleep but it took something else away. i loved shooting it, but if i had to do everything all over again…” you pause, sighing, “i think i would… but i’d change a lot of things and work hard not just to keep my career going but to keep those around me too. yeah, maybe we can’t stop people from leaving when they decided they will no matter what but it doesn’t change how horrible that feeling is.’

“you have gayoung though, as a couple i’m sure you share your burdens with her now, right?”

bitterness flashes across your features for a moment. no one has caught that, no one will. only minho.

because as much as it hurts… he’s the only one that knows you more than you know yourself.

“of couse,” you smile. bitter. “just shows that when someone won’t be there for you, someone else will.” you pause, “and be better.”

ouch. minho turns off his phone, he covers his face into his hands and breathes wetly. he really is the worst, isn’t he?

fans have started to notice the distance between the two of you. bubble messages flood in every now and then saying they hope you and he are doing okay. he sees the comments questioning the silence that has been built between you two. the members know.

well, they don’t know you two had kissed or that he is inevitably in love with you.

but they know you two are not in good terms.

chan had questioned you about it and when you didn’t give him a believable answer he had seeked minho out. all minho said was — “y/n is just too busy to keep what we have, i made sure he focuses on his career.” which in turns absolutely outed the fact minho caused all of this. the look of disappointment chan gave him is the same one he gives himself after crying and looking in the mirror.

even crying feels illegal.

the worst part is you and jisung share the dorm with him. he hears jisung question you about your distance. he hears you talk to people— to gayoung — over the phone. he bumps into you on the way to the laundry, to the bathroom, in the kitchen.

he works with you.

he lives with you.

he misses you.

yet, you’re not his to seek out anymore. you’re his coworker now.

nothing more…

“where’s y/n? we’re about to board the plane,” jeongin says with a pout.

minho unconsciously looks around, equally wondering where you are. they had driven to the airport at around 10 and you weren’t in the dorms. through check ins, you still hadn’t popped up.

later, however, the video of you running through the airport with your bodyguard and manager blows up. minho finds that out in the van after landing in tokyo. he had wondered why you were so disheveled when you entered the plane.

“we have four concerts here in japan,” seungmin mumbles to himself, “we have one day to roam around, one morning left and then we’re off to the states.”

“doesn’t y/n hyung have a private conference in the states?” jisung asks.

“what?” minho frowns.

chan sighs, “he really needs to take a break. this whole year is going to be packed.” he rests his head back on the seat, “he barely managed to pull off the concerts in korea.”

“well we do have a few free days in between our concerts,” seungmin offers, “he’ll have some sort of rest.”

minho swallows. are you really that busy?

he still doesn’t get to see much of you. he’s had to hear hyunjin recap how you have 2 interviews a day before flying with them to japan. how you had to pull an all nighter to review a script for a morning commercial schedule. it’s crazy, he thinks. how are you alive.

when all of you come to the venue to rehearse, he sees you thrudge in after chan, who seemingly had to drag you here. your hair is everywhere, your face puffy from sleep, your large hoodie and baggy joggers make you look small. minho forces himself to look away, his heart clenching at your adorable sight.

practice goes alright, minho thinks. sound check goes well, jisung and changbin goofed off with the autotune. they had tried to pull you into their fun scheme but minho noticed how you grimly looked at them. it didn’t change how you still went along with it, always willing to entertain the guys. they’re your family just as much as they’re his. still, everyone is tense around you two.

because they know.

they know their favorite hyungs are in weird terms. they don’t ask, they don’t have to. it’s visibly written in the air.

“minho can you go check on y/n,” chan asks him the morning of the official concert.

everyone went through the same checks and passed. everything is ready. minho hadn’t really seen you today regardless, despite dancing and singing beside you. he truly does not recall you being around other than on stage, not even during lunch break.

“why me?” he asks without thinking, it even comes out bitterly.

chan stares at him for a moment. no one is around, just him and minho. “are you really going to drag this out?” he asks, tone evidently showing how angry he is, “everyone else is checking up on him except you. what are you two doing?”

minho looks away, fists clenching at his sides. “we’re just… not in a good spot-“

“and how long will that last? huh? y/n isn’t prideful like you are, so who is dragging it out?”

that was like a slap in the face.

“minho, don’t shut me out.”

yet minho closed the door and never dared get near it. you never begged again. verbally. he took notice of your sad eyes after the fight. he felt your presence begging to call for him. yet you didn’t. because you knew the door that was slammed in your face would never open again.

“i’ll check up on him before we get on stage,” he says softly.

chan sighs, “i’ll take it.”

backstage, as he’s getting in his outfit, he sees you thrudge around. on your phone. clearly you’re talking to gayoung. he sees you smile for a second before walking out. he can’t help but follow you out discreetly. you step behind a wall, he stays around the corner.

“i’m screwed,” you whisper. “so fucking screwed, you have no idea.”

minho steps back. well you’re alive and that’s all that matters. why would he check up on you? you don’t need him. you have the guys. you have gayoung. that’s clearly who you’re talking to.

he doesn’t need to overstep. your life isn’t something he’s involved in.

“minho! y/n!”

minho whips his head around, his heart pounding. does hyunjin have to be so fucking loud!? outing him like this!? he should leave before you realize he was right behind you- he makes the mistake of turning around again and coming face to face with you.

he’s caught.

he swallows and stares up at you. your dark eyes boring into him. you’re all ready to get on stage. he couldn’t even speak if he wanted to. there’s nothing to say.

the way you walk past him makes his heart drop.

the act was unfamiliar until 2 months ago. that’s how long he’s been dragging it out. that’s how long it’s been when he hurt your feelings and smashed his along. it felt like so little time but it felt like an eternity ago.

an eternity that is burned into his skull and haunts him.

not even the roar of the fans when they come on stage silences the thousands of thoughts in his head.

he’s on the stage feeling like a puppet. except his strings tangle with yours. the amount of times you bumped into him from stumbling were too many to count. he hates it.

and he hates how much he worries.

above all, he hates that he can’t near you.

and it’s his fault.

it’s probably the fourth concert day, the last concert in japan. they’ll be here for a day or so before flying back to korea.

your chest feels tight.

you get nauseous a lot. you can’t really stomach much. at most a soup you get at the hotel you’re all staying at but even that leaves you with an upset stomach.

you had filmed a commercial in japan, gayoung had been flown out here. it frustrated you, didn’t matter where you went, gayoung had to be involved somehow. the girl isn’t at fault, it’s the company, you know that.

“oppa are you sure you’re okay?” she asks.

you raise your head and look at your phone. the video call started thirty minutes ago when she finally landed and finished going through security. you don’t hate her, she’s a good friend. you haven’t kissed her, both of you strictly left that for the scenes only. you hug her, you cuddle her, you carry her but she’s not who you love. maybe as a friend. not as a lover.

“you look like shit ever since we finished the drama, i didn’t want to point it out,” she says, there’s a bit of a teasing tone but she’s also dead serious.

“a pretty girl like you shouldn’t curse,” you say with a sigh.

she stares at you before starting a string pf curses. you chuckle softly, shaking your head. you groan, your migraine returning. she immediately pauses.

“oppa, i’m worried for you. joking aside, you really do look like shit.”

you grunt, looking around the room, “i think i’ll feel better when i’m back in korea…”

she puts the phone close to her face, as if she could see you more clearly that way. “i hope so or we’ll have to shoot a ‘taking care of my boyfriend’ blog.”

“ugh no,” you whine.

she laughs, “just kidding, the company is going to make me show my concern though if something happens.”

you give her a face, “nothing is gonna happen gayoung, i’m fine. just not a hundred percent.”

“well as long as you get back home safely,” she says softly, “i care for you y/n.”

all formality is out the window. it always has been with her, you see her as a little sibling from how long you two have worked together for. almost a whole year and a half. you had known her before the drama but contact wasn’t fully established until then.

“i have to get going to the venue,” you finalize, dread expressed on your features.

“okay~,” she sing songs as she gets inside her van, “don’t push yourself, okay? see ya!”

“bye,” you throw a peace sign and she quickly mimics you before hanging up.

you drop your phone on your bed before scrubbing your face with your hands. sometimes you’re thankful that you’re dating a friend instead of someone you don’t know, you’ve heard companies do that so this isn’t bad. yet, it isn’t good either.

you’ve been like a zombie these last few weeks. taking all sorts of pills and gummies that would give you energy and help you get through concerts with a smile. you know the guys are worried about you, but you’re not the only one feeling overworked. still, you’re the one with the worst of it.

“let’s put on our best show,” chan says as he pats everyone’s backs. he pauses when he comes to you, “let me know if you need a break-“

“hyung, seriously,” you grimace. “you make me feel like i don’t belong sometimes.”

he frowns, realizing he overstepped. “shit, no. y/n that’s not what i meant- i just- you know that i know.”

you stare at him, almost mortified. “uh-“

“please get to the stage quickly!” a staff member says.

chan gives you a once over before heading out, you follow suit. your migraine hasn’t stopped. the roaring of the fans feels like a hammer being pounded on your skull from the inside. you genuinely contemplate taking up chan’s offer, especially when you zone out and step on minho’s shoe accidentally.

“my bad,” you say automatically, stepping away like you had been burned.

and maybe you were, with the way he looks at you annoyingly. when did you feel so left out like this?

you execute the choreography perfectly, smiling at hyunjin whenever he comes across you on a part. fans fawn over each and every one of you. yet, when your part comes during the bridge, you stop mid verse when something oozes out of your nose onto your upper lip. immediately, you look away from the camera and wipe it with your sleeve. the worst part is minho was behind you for the formation, his brows furrowed when you immediately stumbled when walking to the next formation.

“are you bleeding?” jisung asks ushered as jeongin sings.

you walk past all of them, jogging to the backstage. the bleeding won’t stop, normally you can just wipe it away and it’s unnoticeable but you knew this isn’t as easy. you’re hyper aware of your physical status.

“oh, here let me,” a staff member says as they guide you to a chair.

the fans are worried, chan clarifying that you’ll be fine makes it worse. how weak could you be?

“the bleeding stopped,” you say as you look at the clean tissue you pull away from your nose.

“ah, are you sure you want to go-“

“thank you for your care, if anything comes up i’ll let you know,” you bow low before heading back out after the second song.

there’s a moment where the members speak and chat, you anxiously return to the stage as jisung speaks to stay. you could stand beside anyone, they’re all dear to you and have been with you during tough times. yet, you unconsciously went to minho’s side, awkwardly standing there when you realize you shouldn’t have chosen him.

even now, does he really give you comfort? why are you lying to yourself like this?

“oh! hyung! are you okay?” hyunjin asks out loud on the mic.

you swallow before looking down at your mic, “minho hit me with his mic when i went to formation.”

what.

minho spins and looks at you. you clearly lost your mind.

“i’m good though hyung, no need to apologize.”

everyone on stage is looking at you like you really have lost it. minho’s eyes are like saucers. he hesitates before bringing his mic up to speak, looking away and nervously fidgeting with his inear.

“uh, my mistake, i didn’t realize you were that close when we turned.”

“hyung doesn’t realize his strength either,” hyunjin jokes nervously.

there’s no way to verify or deny that fact. in the formation you and minho are pretty hidden, so in the end, it’s a possibility no matter how slim.

“the fuck was that,” minho grits when all of you are backstage for an outfit change.

“hey, don’t fight,” changbin huffs.

you stand there stiffly, changbin between the two of you. everyone has run off, not wanting to get caught up in it. chan comes up to you two. minho glares at you before stepping back.

“i didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says, like he really did hurt you on the stage.

“but you did.” you say automatically.

“hey, hey, what matters is that you’re okay,” chan says, believing the words that came out of your mouths.

neither chan or changbin know that minho’s apology and your accusations are not from what happened minutes ago, but from what happened two months ago. you look away, turning to change.

now, things are worse. the anger you had from what minho did dwindled down into your suppressed sadness. you meant everything you said- you’d leave anything and everything to keep him. yet, why didn’t he want you?

you cover your face before your stylist fixes your makeup, you ask for a few moments and she goes on standby. your head is killing you, you want to cry from frustration, you absolutely want minho.

he always knew how to make you feel better.

how come the last time you fought him he kissed you? isn’t he hurting too? why is this so difficult?

by the time you’re back on stage with the other members, you can’t really stay focused. you trail behind anyone and everyone down the stage when some of the songs are free reign across the stage. you stick to jisung, the second closest member to you… well, maybe the first one now that minho wants nothing to do with you.

you watch him across the stage.

during the song there’s a beat pause. everyone looks at each other playfully, but minho’s eyes latch onto your gaze.

you smile at him, painful but yearning.

he at least has the decency to wave back.

and the flame of hope ignites in your heart again.

your life feels suffocating.

you can’t remember how many times you’ve been seen only as gayoung’s boyfriend. the idol with an outed relationship that bloomed from a drama. you get back to korea. you fly out for concerts. you fly out for interviews.

it’s constant movement.

everyone found out your nosebleeds come from stress and your lack of sleep. chan knows the most of it, he does lack sleep too. still, your life is busy even with not scenes to shoot.

minho isn’t handling that well. he hasn’t exactly stepped up to confront you about the situation between the two of you. nor has he approached you on terms outside of fan service. it’s not even as often as before, it’s crumbs of what the two of you used to do. ever since you started a relationship there’s constant war between fans when a member is too touchy with you.

you’re not an object, you don’t belong to gayoung. if only they knew the relationship was strictly a job on top of all your jobs. you were called in for modeling, for drink commercials, a cafe wanted to have a theme with the drama and you and gayoung had to sponsor their promotions for a week. the drinks were okay.

the food was okay.

nothing could beat minho’s cooking. sadly, you don’t think you’ll ever get the chance to eat it ever again. you and minho’s situation hasn’t gotten better nor worse. it’s just.. still.

you often stare at your ceiling at night when you have the luxury to be home early to rest. it’s not often but when you do… your mind drifts.

to how soft minho’s lips are. to the hunger you two had demonstrated. the way his soft breathes ignited a fire in your stomach. he took that chance and built a wall between the two of you.

“yah,” a voice calls out.

you jump, sitting up and whipping around to face your door.

“i made dinner.”

you look at the door as if minho opened it and stared at you. he’s behind the wooden pallet. he’s talking to you. your body twitches before you stiffen.

no.

you can’t.

you’ve waited all these months for this but you just can’t. something won’t let you. is it your self restraint? you don’t want to fight again. if you tried to bring up the topic he’d run away. he’ll somehow blame you. he’ll do everything possible to keep you at a miles distance.

he’s just being a coworker.

he’s obligated to show interest and care.

“i know you’re awake,” minho says.

is his voice trembling?

“i’m good.” you say softly, staring at the bottom of the door to see his shadow. it’s loud enough for him to hear.

if you accepted, two things could happen. you argue and make things worse. or you lose all control and take the riskiest bet of them all.

neither is good.

you don’t particularly care for your fame. you have enough in your bank to survive if you get fired or blacklisted. you have backup plans. yet, you’re not ready for it yet. you’re just waiting on minho to accept that he’s the one at fault, even if it’s indirectly.

when that will happen? you don’t know. maybe him wanting to eat a cooked meal was it. yet, your instincts tell you not now.

so you lay back down, hearing minho huff and stomp away.

he definitely thinks you hate him. you love him, but you want him to feel a little sting. it’s nothing compared to the scalding he gave you months ago, but giving him a little taste of his medicine won’t hurt.

at least you don’t hope so.

he has to reach out the right way.

and… you close your eyes and toss and turns…. and if he doesn’t do it before you finally decide, then you’ll have no choice to make the move.

just a little longer…

you hope your heart handles it.

he doesn’t near you. you’re used to it now, despite how much it hurts you.

it’s the end of the year and all of you are preparing for the award shows. you have many to attend— mma , mama, the baeksang arts awards. probably some more.

the biggest is mama. it’s one of the ones at the end of the year. the acting award is in may, or so you heard. thing is you’re a nominee and they’ll announce that further on, right now your main focus is the award shows of the month of december. it’s a stressful time, but not as stressful as when you were fresh of the drama.

since last month, you’ve had more time to breathe. to sleep too.

you do have the obligation to keep going on dates with gayoung. instead of being home alone with minho when jisung is stuck in the studio you choose to hang out with her. unknown to you- that hurts minho. well, maybe you do know.

“sound check done, thank you!”

all of you bow.

“hyung!” changbin runs to you, “i’m hungry!”

“yeah! me too!” seungmin yells.

you smile, adoring how cute changbin looks as he clings to your side. “and what do you want to eat? we have to start getting ready for our performance tonight.”

“crab!” changbin pouts.

“i want something else,” hyunjin argues.

you laugh, “just order what you want… you know where my card is…” everyone screams happily, “and remember to watch your intake, i don’t need anyone with an upset stomach during or after performance. also!” you point at them, “just buy food, i don’t want to recieve a bill of some video game purchase.” you eye felix who whistles.

minho simply watches you from afar. these past few months weren’t easy. still, he can’t bring himself to face you yet. why would he? your life is as perfect as it gets— you have a successful acting and idol career. you have a beautiful girlfriend. you have millions of doting fans. what would he speak to you for? his feelings? those are worth nothing for you, it’s destroy your image.

assuming you really did mean what you said all those months ago, what benefit would you get? he can’t do that to you. he can’t bear to think that you’d leave everything you worked so hard to build just for him… if he had ever said yes.

but he knows better.

and he knows his spot is exactly where he’s in- watching you from afar. seeing you work as an idol beside him.

“alright guys, let’s go show them what we’re made of,” chan says with a whoop.

minho simply won’t intervene.

despite how much rest you’ve had compared to a few months back, you still don’t feel your best. still, your performance is full of energy and charisma. the whole performance is full of crazy moves and entrances. the acts hyunjin and you pulled were the highlights of the whole stage.

by the second act, your place was to do a flip between two dancers, so that they would soon do a dance break with you. you’d have to wait for a few moments until felix finishes his line and everyone files to the side for you to do your part.

you’ve rehearsed this plenty of times, you know when to enter and when to wait. you know how many steps to take and when to turn. when to breathe and when to blink.

yet, you take the wrong step and fall six feet off the platform stage. bodyguards run to you as you groan, your trembling arms helping you push yourself off the ground. jeongin’s worried eyes are on you, he’s hidden from the amount of dancers before him.

“are you okay!?” a staff asks as they help you get to your feet.

you had fallen on your hands and knees. the impact was rough but the adrenaline makes it feel like you’re fine. your hand hurts bad though, or is it your wrist? you just stare down at your shaking hands, scratched and getting red. you wobble, your knees almost giving out. you need to get back on stage-

the dance break starts.

“help me get up!” you yell, panting.

“if you’re injured we have to-“

“you have to walk all the way around-“

“y/n-ssi you need to get checked-“

everyone is talking but not moving. you growl, grabbing a bodyguard and your stare was enough for everyone to get the gist. they hunch over and hook their hands to give you leverage, your foot wobbles from weak balance as you boost yourself up with their help. clearly everyone is confused and worried, yet you crawl onto the stage and quickly get on your feet.

the impact is starting to reveal where you’re hurt. your ankle is probably sprained, each step is killing you. your shoulder aches, your elbows sting.

still, you run and when your backup dancer catch you on their peripheral vision, they immediately step back to sync with you when you backflip and spin to the floor in a breakdance pattern. it’s the final steps of the formation you were supposed to perform, yet it still blew everyone away and regained the attention of everyone.

going through the rest of the choreography was killing you. it took everything in you to not wobble as you did your lines and performed with the rest of the members.

the worst part? was that after forcing yourself to stand still for approximately one minute as the performance comes to an end for the cameras to stop rolling, you lose your balance when going down the stairs and once more, you fall from the three foot high staircase that lead to the backstage.

“hyung!” jeongin cries out, catching everyone’s attention.

medical staff already surround you as you lay on the floor, groaning and grunting.

“what’s going on?” minho asks, eyes wide and his heart pounding.

“hyung fell off the stairs!” changbin exclaims.

“he also fell off the stage,” jeongin sobs, “and he still hopped on and kept going-“

“hey, hey, let’s let them work,” chan says, gathering the kids away despite his anxiety skyrocketing.

minho doesn’t budge at first, his glassy eyes fixated on your body as the medics put you on a stretcher when you say how much it hurts to move. he’s worried sick, you really pushed yourself that bad? he can’t wonder if you’re insane or passionate. no one really enjoys the rest of the ceremony. during the speech chan mentions how passionate they are for their dream, even mentioning how y/n pushed himself to give the best performance even when he shouldn’t have.

back in the dorms chan texts the chat, saying you had dislocated your left shoulder and wrist. you’re bruised on your elbows and knees, the height would have fractured them but you had placed all your weight in the impact in your hands, causing one wrist to suffer more. two to three months until you’re fully recovered.

they still have to perform. minho can’t help but cry, he knows very well the company will make you keep going through promotions and schedules no matter how hurt you are.

and he’s nervous. how will he put aside his actions in order to care for you? you live right next to his room, how could he feign interest when you’ll be in need of assistance for a while? hyunjin was the same, so how could he not intervene?

his biggest fear is this— what if you don’t let him?

he’d deserve it of course. you have every right to refuse his help and care.

it gnaws at him for the three days straight that you’re in the hospital. it was per your request to stay for a little longer. how will he face you? is now the right time? no. yes?

he isn’t sure if he’s crying from guilt, self hatred or anxiety anymore. so when he hears your familiar footsteps inside the dorm he freezes. jisung is with chan and changbin again, coincidentally saying he’ll be home extremely late, he enters a frenzy.

he hears your gruttal sigh as you walk inside your room, your door closes.

well. it’s now or never.

you either reject him all together — reject what? he doesn’t know. he has no idea what he’s going to say, no idea if he’ll ask to console you or to apologize for what happened or what. something has to be done, though, and if you never let him get close to you again then he’ll understand that it’s the consequences of his actions.

he takes a deep breath as he heads out of his room. he swallows the knot in his throat when he stands before your door.

“leave me alone, minho,” you say before his fist even makes contact with your door to knock.

he stares at the door as if it was it that spoke to you that way. “y/n… i-“

“just leave me alone they way you said you would. you don’t need me so i don’t need you either.”

minho breathes shallow, “y-you don’t mean that-“

“the fuck do you want?” you groan, “what? i get hurt and now you decide to speak to me?”

your voice cracks at the end of your grievance. it breaks minho.

“i’m sorry,” he sobs, “i shouldn’t have been selfish! i shouldn’t have hurt you like that! shouldn’t have shut you out!”

he hiccups and takes a step back when you open the door. through blurry sight, he looks at you. you stare down at him, why are your eyes so tender?

“but you did…”

“i just knew if i didn’t i’d have no restraint,” he sniffles, “i love you.” he whispers, looking down at the floor, “seeing you with her hurt so much. knowing you smell like her made me nauseous. knowing she was your new focus made me feel like i didn’t belong in your life anymore-“

“minho,” you grab his chin with your free hand, tilting his face up. “why does it take me getting hurt for you to speak to me again?”

minho shakes his head, “i just can’t come between you and gayoung-“

“me and gayoung are dating by contract, not because i love her.” you confess, finally letting that out. “you think i want to be with her?”

minho pushes your hand away, hot tears streaming down his face again. “what will the company think? we won’t work! you have so much to lose and-“

“you think i give a damn about all of this!?” you push him forward until he’s trapped between you and the wall. “i love you, lee minho.” you stare at his mortified expression, “i stand by what i said. for you, and only you, i’d give up everything.”

“your career-“

“none of this means nothing if you’re not in it!” you grab his chin again, “you don’t have to love me back, you don’t have to accept my feelings! just, just talk to me again, please,” you beg, your own eyes glassing over, “don’t just be my coworker, be my friend again. be my safe place again. i-i’ll put away my feelings for you, we can forget that i love you but don’t shut me out again.”

“y/n…” he stares at you, realizing how truly broken you’ve been since that day.

“that’s what i meant that day… none of this is worth it if the one person that made me feel like i belonged isn’t with me.”

“oh, y/n…” his bottom lip trembles, “have we really been that blind?”

you close your eyes and sigh, “i understand you’re scared of the public eye…”

“i am…” he whimpers.

“but i’d walk through fire if it meant i’d have you as mine for the rest of my life.”

he locks eyes with you, drowning in the warmth of your orbs. his heart hammers in his chest again, would he do the same? what is he really scared of? loving you and risking his career?

no, he concludes.

“y/n….” he says shallowly before leaning in to kiss you.

he’s scared of losing you and realizing everything he has isn’t worth that.

you kiss him with passion. his soft lips syncing with yours, saliva mixing with yours as your tongue grazes his. your hands grab his waist and pull him flush against you.

“ngh- y-your wrist-“ he tries to say as you eat his mouth.

“don’t care,” you grumble as you attack his lips without remorse.

the pesty sting in your bone doesn’t matter when he’s finally in your arms. his whimpers and moans make you want more. you know he’ll sound even more beautiful beneath you in the sheets, taking all you have to offer.

just the thought accelerates your heart rate. the beautiful man you’ve always wanted is finaly before you. the kiss means more than a confession. you place your hands behind his thighs, he makes a noise when you lift him up.

“ah- your shoulder-!”

“it’s okay baby, what you make me feel is bigger than the pain,” you tease as you carry him to your bed.

he can’t scold you or complain because you attack his mouth again. you grin into the kiss as you sit on the edge of the bed with him on your lap. it’s probably the hottest thing minho will ever experience. he straddles your waist for more comfort in this position, hands running through your hair as you kiss along his jawline. when you kiss a certain spot, he twitches and whines.

with a lazy smile, you pull away and look at him.

“let me take you,” you beg softly, panting.

he swallows, looking down at the tent in your shorts. “but gayoung-“

“can you stop mentioning her?” you growl, pulling him down by the hips so that your boner pokes him through his joggers. “she will never have me the way you can.” you kiss his ear, making him shiver, “the way you will.”

“i’m scared,” he voices out. he wraps his arms around your neck, “i-i want to say yes but… there will be no going back, y/n…”

“it was never a choice,” you say.

and he lets you push him down onto the bed.

🏷️ TAG LIST — @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @gnusihcom @minholover1 @lucianidealz @desafortuno @missvanjii @lisaswifey @yongbokkk

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dreamlandcreations · 2 days ago

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There are many roads to piracy. Paperwork shouldn’t be one of them.

I love the opening. The second part was also great but this? This got my attention right from the start.

That's such a unique concept and so well done to set it up in just two sentences. Love it

You have a job to do and frankly can’t be assed to even feign interest, not that you put much effort into the pretense since your first introduction.

Honestly? Same, girl. No life of the party here, nope

Shanks called for this particular event because it’s a day ending in y.

That is so in character (not that I know much outside of the live action and what the wiki page tells me but yeah).

The exposure to the crew’s merry making itches under your skin like sun blisters.

Man, that so poetically says that I'd rather tear my skin off than be there 😅

You’re a leap and a bound above a coddled passenger but so removed from the functional hierarchy you don’t even have a title. Except. Well. There was always… “Nerd!”

Aww, that's sad. Sad sad Reader should get a lot of Shanks affection. Doctor's orders!

Reader on the inside after Shanks starts to crack the Great Wall/Helm's Deep-sized wall our Nerd has built around her 👇

“Captain says you have to have a drink when you’re done.”

Awwwwwwwwwww he wants her involved and to get some fun. That's cute

“I swear the books get worse every time I come back.” It’s lighthearted, but also too fucking true. “I’ll be working late.”

Sooooooo grumpy

“This was all we had left.” “I’ve seen the inventory. There’s plenty for the next week of travel, even if the crew gets shit-faced twice a day.” Benn shrugs. “It was all that was left on deck.”

Lol. What's the equivalent of slut-shaming for drunkards? The sass. OMG the sass, the banter... I can't

You can’t go to bed. There is no bed. Benn doesn’t seem surprised when you come back.

I can see it, dammit, I can picture it so vividly, it's insane how right that little moment feels. Oh, that fucker, this needs revenge!

Honestly speaking, you’re too old for this shit.

MOOOOOOOOOOD!!!

Why are you a pirate? Why are you here? Your life was so slow and orderly before a big grin and a thatch of red hair flipped it on its head. Did you ever actually agree to this life, or did you just fail to argue with the plan? That must be the problem. If you never learn to say no, whatever comes is your fault. But if you learn to say no, you’ll have to learn to say yes, too. That might be worse.

The inner monologue! The little bits of flashbacky info drops! It's so well paced! (I was just (trying to) read a book where it was so awkwardly done that it brings so much more contrast to how ) it seems so effortlessly in flow with the story without breaking the moment 🥺 🖤

You almost turned him down. You tried, actually. But he insisted you at least hear his captain out, face to face.

THAT, is just EVIL!!!! HE KNEW! HE FUCKING KNEW THAT YOU CAN'T SAY NO TO THAT!!!!!

And then Shanks smiled, and it was all over.

Yeppppp. That check's out. I mean lookit, it's freaking infectious 🫠

Of course, Benn can’t let you mope in peace. “What’s eating ya?” “Mosquitoes, maybe.”

Booze makes you think. Then it makes you speak. Then it makes you sleep.

.... so that's why they (he) want to get her to drink????? *nonexistent narrowed eyed suspicious emoji*🤯

..... And if you hold your rum so well, why don’t you have another with us?” “I did my duty. I just want to sleep.” Shanks tsks...

Little shit...both of them actually. LOVE THEM

“Are you going to nip at me like a sheepdog until I do? Come on, you’re awake. Have another drink.” The insistence is inching towards an order.... Maybe he really did plan this. Maybe Shanks did. Maybe the rats are in this together... Fresh bottles have appeared on the table as if by magic, and you pull your discarded tankard over, resigned to your fate. It’s already been refilled.

Groaning, swearing, and taking your precious time, you stretch and inch away from the haze of sleep. You spare a filthy look for Beckman as you clamber onto a chair, because you can easily reason your way into this being his fault. The bastard smirks around his cigarette.

Such a grumpy drama queen 🤭

It’s…companionable. If it was always like this, maybe you could set your roots in the Red Force’s planks. Trust it to be a home.

Yes, girl, you are almost there!

Shanks is deep in his thoughts, famous red hair drifting in the breeze. As he quietly enjoys his sake, you glare. “Do you realize how frustrating you are?” His cup pauses against his lips. His eyebrows leap up. “Eh?”

No comment, I just wanted a visual here 🙈

“It’s so frustrating. You have no idea what’s like being weaker than someone you love.”

Damn, I'd die on the spot

“I am drunk, and I refuse to face the consequences of my actions.”

Paper Pirates

MDNI

An unconventional member of an unconventional crew, you find yourself wrestling with frustrations out of your league

Shanks x f!reader (more relevant in part 2)

It was supposed to be a one-shot.

There are many roads to piracy.

Paperwork shouldn’t be one of them.

Sailors fly the jolly roger for adventure, for freedom, for greed. Sweet or savage, pirates turn to the sea for a thrilling life away from responsibility. Not for double-entry accounting.

It should be all swords and swashbuckling, especially on a yonko’s flagship. Music and tuneless singing have steeped in the ship’s hull along with sea brine and rum, staining the Red Force with a mighty reputation.

And yet. Here you sit: ink-stained fingers, spectacles, and all.

The financial charts, ledgers, and reports from across the Emperor’s territory make a compelling excuse to skip the evening’s celebrations. Light from the overhead lantern trembles with the rhythmic force of a dozen idiots dancing – or fighting – on deck. You have a job to do and frankly can’t be assed to even feign interest, not that you put much effort into the pretense since your first introduction.

Shanks called for this particular event because it’s a day ending in y. No one has cannons aimed at the Red Force, and there’s no pressing need for sobriety. Standard practice, really.

The exposure to the crew’s merry making itches under your skin like sun blisters. You’ll burn if you get too much, but it’s an unavoidable hazard at sea.

Even if you’re only half-crew.

You’re a leap and a bound above a coddled passenger but so removed from the functional hierarchy you don’t even have a title.

Except. Well. There was always…

“Nerd!”

You drag your eyes away from ledger lines and decimals to blink at Yasopp. The sniper is drunk and enjoying himself. And pointing at you.

“Captain says you have to have a drink when you’re done.”

One finger curls over a notebook’s cover, and you contemplate how many more hours of work you can eek out before you’re too tired for responsible accounting.

“I swear the books get worse every time I come back.” It’s lighthearted, but also too fucking true. “I’ll be working late.”

Yasopp shakes his head. Grins. “Orders.”

Your eyes roll away from the pirate and back to the mathematic wreck on the desk. “Whatever. Just leave me something and I’ll lift a glass to your unconscious ass before I sleep.”

Cackling, Yasopp ferries your answer back to the party, and you work the puzzle of knotted equations until the lantern stops swinging and the racket falls silent. Pirates not on watch stumble through the corridors on their way to their bunks, slurring and laughing on the other side of the wall. Even that goes quiet eventually.

Your eyes burn from focusing too hard to blink for minutes on end, and you decide it’s safe to stop for the night. Off come the glasses, neatly folded and tucked into a desk drawer. They’ll be safer there than on your person, and you only need them for reading fine print. You didn’t used to. Not when you started. But that’s true of a lot of things.

With joints that creak like the steps you ascend, you head up on deck. Bodies of the fallen sleep under a blanket of stars – the ones who drank themselves to sleep or refused to leave the party before waking in the morning. The few on watch peer down from crow’s nests or attend minor chores around their comrades’ spread limbs and upturned bellies.

Yellow lights contrast with the velvet black-blue stitching together endless sea and sky, and you can’t help relaxing just a little as you approach the one table with a conscious crewman. The cherry of his cigarette burns bright, and smoke curls into the breeze.

“Benn.”

He nods, mumbling your name. As you sit, he slides a large tankard to your side of the table.

It doesn’t look like wine. Doesn’t smell like beer. It’s the wrong color for sake. “It’s rum, isn’t it?”

“Didn’t send Yasopp with a preference,” the first mate says. The telling glint in his eye betrays his good humor. “This was all we had left.”

“I’ve seen the inventory. There’s plenty for the next week of travel, even if the crew gets shit-faced twice a day.”

Benn shrugs. “It was all that was left on deck.”

You doubt it, even if it’s more plausible, but there’s no point arguing. Time to finish the last task of the day.

Lifting the heavy cup, you tilt your head back and chug.

“Steady.” Benn watches with his arms crossed.

You drink rather than answer. Swallowing fire, you drain half of what was left for you.

“I’m tired,” you say when you stop to breathe, “and I want to go to bed.”

Bed is a hammock in the groaning belly of the ship. Surrounded by other hammocks. Full of pirates. Who snore. Loudly. A night of drinking never helps the volume, but maybe your share will help you black out.

“If I drink fast enough, I’ll be asleep before it hits and it won’t matter.”

“If you say so.”

He’s very good at letting people make their own mistakes. You’ve watched him to it. But this isn’t the first time you’ve rushed through liquid social obligations on your way to rest. He doesn’t know you as well as he thinks, you’re sure.

The second half of the rum goes down like the first, and you aren’t even tipsy as you take your leave and head below. It’s a good plan. Maybe it would’ve worked, too, if it weren’t for the chaos you find in your assigned quarters.

While the little study always holds records, you aren’t aboard often enough to have a dedicated sleeping space. No cabin. Not even a bunk. Just a hammock in the hold with the lower ranks. You left your small trunk by one near the door, and you’d slept there for the past five nights running without issue.

Until now.

There must’ve been a brawl, or one of the bigger men misjudged his approach under the influence, because a wad of ripped and tangled hammocks sits piled in the center of the room. All the remaining options, including your unofficially claimed space, are full.

You can’t go to bed.

There is no bed.

Benn doesn’t seem surprised when you come back.

Sooner or later, the rum will hit, and you know better than to wait for it on your feet. So, you pick a place by Benn’s table and settle with your ass on the deck and your back against a wall.

Technically speaking, you’ve slept in worse places.

Realistically speaking, you usually sleep in better.

Honestly speaking, you’re too old for this shit.

This is the consequence of your actions. Today it’s glasses and rum. Tomorrow it will be a sore head and an aching tailbone. The day after it will probably be a cannonball to the face. No matter how lackadaisical the crew behaves, they’re all pirates at the end of the day, and so are you.

Of course, Benn can’t let you mope in peace.

“What’s eating ya?”

“Mosquitoes, maybe.”

“Nah.” He stubs out the butt of his cigarette and reaches for the pack. “Been off since your last sabbatical. Longer, if we’re being honest, but it really has its teeth in you now.”

“Nothing.” Gods. You sound like a teenager.

He hums, lights up a fresh smoke, and leaves it alone.

You can’t even explain why you’re in a bad mood. It’s just vibes. A feeling that makes sense until you try caging it in words.

You’ve been part of Shank’s entourage for years now, and you’ve seen the impact of his influence.

He makes things better. Things grow under his care.

That’s good. That’s great. That’s better than most folks in the New World ever expect to find in their lifetimes. But somehow it doesn’t apply to you.

You let your head fall back against the wall. The hollow thunk sounds as empty as you wish you could make your skull.

People drink to forget, or so some sad, broken soul tells you in every bar in every port you’ve ever visited. It’s a neat trick you never learned, though. Booze makes you think. Then it makes you speak. Then it makes you sleep.

It doesn’t make you the party girl the Red-Haired Pirates clearly hoped for the first time they dragged you into a night of carousing. It didn’t help your on-again off-again crewmate status. No one besides a handful of the most seasoned officers knew how to speak to you, and you could count those on one hand.

If you could bring yourself to care less about what you did, you would’ve flipped everyone the bird ages ago, refused to board the Red Force after one of your little layovers and made a home somewhere.

But you can’t, and you don’t, and the alcohol fumes up from belly to brain with old memories.

Once upon a time you bumped into a grey-haired man at the dock. His hands were full of loose papers and notebooks. When they clattered to the ground, you immediately helped pick them up, because that was just good manners. As you gathered the pages, you saw the numbers, and your brain leapt ahead of your mouth, so as you handed the collection back to Shank’s first mate, you blithely mentioned, “You have some transportation and duplication errors in the top account that are throwing off your totals.”

And, low and behold, the next day the first mate – one Benn Beckman – tracked you down and discussed working for one of the most powerful people in the Grand Line.

You almost turned him down. You tried, actually. But he insisted you at least hear his captain out, face to face. And then Shanks smiled, and it was all over.

They gave you a strange job.

Emperors reigned in their own ways. Force and threats were standard, but Shanks followed no rules. He governed without actually doing anything, relying on booty stolen at sea and the generosity of thriving island economies to maintain his ship and crew. At least it looked that way from the outside. But the system relied on more than luck and good looks.

Your tasks follow a cycle. The Red Force drops you at an island, leaves you there, then picks you up a few (many) months later. When you’re aboard, you review and balance the ship’s books. When you’re on land, you do the real work. You record how things work on the island, or how they don’t, and you gather the numbers to prove it. Then Shanks and his commanders use your data to find the best ports for long stays, to spot unrest before it became insurrection, and to generally handle pirate business.

Honestly, you enjoy it. You never thought your uncanny skills with numbers could lead to so much travel, and you like island hopping. It’s nice to be special. It’s nice to be needed, even a little. It should be enough. You have more than most.

The itch in the back of your mind has been getting worse, though, especially as you start looping back to hubs you visited in your early days as a quasi-pirate.

Things have grown. People have put down roots. They flourish and offer good fruit in return.

But you haven’t found a way to grow into the Red-Hair Pirates the way other people settle into their lives. Your roots grasp at salt water.

At the start of this adventure, years ago, you let the tide wash you out to sea. It’s no one’s fault but yours, and that doesn’t make you feel any better, so you self-isolate and avoid what you can’t explain.

Pirates aren’t big on feelings talk.

And you’re at least half a pirate.

“Eh, nerd still can’t hold her rum?”

Apparently, Shanks hasn’t surrendered to tomorrow’s hangover yet.

You huff as Benn’s chuckle rumbles over you. Without opening your eyes, which slipped closed at some point you can’t be fucked to remember, you say, “Nerd can hold her rum. Nerd’s hammock was a casualty of war.”

“Ah.” A chair creaks as the captain joins Beckman’s table. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t stay out voluntarily. And if you hold your rum so well, why don’t you have another with us?”

“I did my duty. I just want to sleep.”

Shanks tsks, and you finally crack an eye open. He’s taken the chair closest to your spot on the floor. “Why aren’t you sleeping?” You knock your boot against his bare ankle, frowning. “You should take better care of yourself.”

“Are you going to nip at me like a sheepdog until I do? Come on, you’re awake. Have another drink.”

The insistence is inching towards an order. While the Red Hair Pirates have never followed conventional standards of respect, when Shanks tells you to do something, you listen.

Maybe he really did plan this. Maybe Shanks did. Maybe the rats are in this together. Fuck knows what “this” is, but you’re sailing through Tipsy on the way to Drunk, and clearly there are plans in motion to blow you to the far shores of Hammered.

Fresh bottles have appeared on the table as if by magic, and you pull your discarded tankard over, resigned to your fate. It’s already been refilled.

You drink. So does Shanks. Beckman enjoys his smoke.

It’s…companionable. If it was always like this, maybe you could set your roots in the Red Force’s planks. Trust it to be a home.

But you’ll be ashore again in a few days, and if you let yourself grow into the crew, you’ll tear yourself apart when they leave.

And if they never come back?

Even a Yonko can die. And Shanks is changeable. One day they may not come back for you.

Did you eat dinner? The rum glows warm in your blood.

You find yourself ready to forgive Beckman. For… whatever. He was responsible. He was never the problem.

Shanks is deep in his thoughts, famous red hair drifting in the breeze. As he quietly enjoys his sake, you glare.

“Do you realize how frustrating you are?”

His cup pauses against his lips. His eyebrows leap up. “Eh?”

Yes. This is what you’ve been wrestling with it. He’s the problem.

“You’re the strongest.” You gesture as you speak, and rum splashes out, burning the cracked skin over your knuckles. “No one else can take care of you, so you better take care of yourself.”

Another kick. You aim for your captain’s ankle again, but you hit his shin. It’s not a big deal. It’s not like you could hurt him if you tried. While you aren’t the weakest aboard the Red Force, you’re pretty damn far from the strongest.

Shanks whines anyway, and Beckman’s dry laugh sounds like old leaves rattling in the wind.

“Seriously.” You empty your cup. That gives the truth time to percolate. There’s no helping it now. You’re smashed, and your dignity has flown. Your fist props up your drooping head as tangled thoughts spin out into thread.

“It’s so frustrating. You have no idea what’s like being weaker than someone you love.”

The immediate silence takes a minute to catch up with you. The rum has floated you beyond a standard perception of time, and your head is too loud to notice everything outside hasn’t kept up.

You frown.

You think.

And you realize.

In that moment, you aren’t a ship. There is no chair, table, or lantern to keep you steady. You’re floating in the black abyss, and you know without seeing that a sea king is circling for the kill. There’s no air. Or light. Or distraction. Just terrible, dreadful awareness.

Oh, gods.

Stars, seas, and sabers. Fucking hells and all the horrors below.

You love Shanks.

It’s the stupidest thing in the world, and it makes perfect sense.

You just informed on yourself. To yourself. And possibly to the two men eyeing you, but there’s grace in nebulous phrasing, and no one should be taken too seriously after so much rum.

You leap to your feet and point straight between the captain’s eyes.

“I am drunk, and I refuse to face the consequences of my actions.”

Shanks just blinks at you, and Beckman keeps his thoughts to himself as you back away, trip over your chair, and stagger back down to the study. You hold your head so high you can’t see your feet, and you earn a dozen nicks and bruises on your way.

You sleep in the corner with your jacket as a blanket, and in the morning, you tell yourself nothing happened at all.

#I am finally back for a long comment #with gifs okay. it's more like a long reaction post but whaever #yes I'm quoting every second line #got a little out of order too with the scrolling up and down #by the end I figured I love so much this bc it feels like such a self insert. I'm not complaining though #shanks x reader #reblog

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conchcronch · 2 days ago

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Kinktober 2024: Day 14

WC: 4466

Summary: Not a whole lot of plot going on here. You’re Mihawk’s partner, but what happens when he finds out you’re a fan of his current business partner?

A/N: I swear I’m going to finish this!! My last one will either be a part 2 to this or to the cuckolding one, so if you have a preference let me know!!

You knew it was a very rare event that Mihawk would mentor someone, since it had only happened once before, so you understood how meaningful it was for him to offer you assistance with your defensive sword stance. His little touches, the tap of his finger against your tricep indicating to raise your arm just a bit, the hand on the small of your back hinting at you to arch your back more, and the way he covered your hands holding the hilt of your sword with his so you knew how tightly to hold it, everything he was doing made your head swim. When his hands grabbed your waist, bringing your weight from your front foot to your back, that was when you knew he knew exactly how his touches were affecting you. You could feel his breath on your neck, his hands lingering on the small amount of skin that was visible from your shirt riding up. “You’ve improved so much.” It was as though he were whispering the filthiest words into your ear, making you thankful for his hold on your waist as you were concerned your knees may give out.

“You know swords aren’t my forte.” You swallowed hard, a low chuckle was the only sign he had noticed.

“Come now, you’re quite good with swords. I can think of one in particular that you handle with great care and expertise.” Your whole face flushed and you were almost at a loss for words, but you didn’t want to give him the upper hand, searching your mind for a quick quip you could fire back at him, anything to hear his laugh again, but when his lips pressed to your neck your mind blanked. His hands moved from your waist and wrapped fully around you, pulling you flush against him. The warmth of his body was welcomed more than you had realized, a cool breeze blowing off the water and across the small courtyard that sat in the middle of his estate.

“I should have known you had a good reason not to be in our meeting room.” A voice boomed across the courtyard, startling you but not Mihawk who clearly had heard his partner’s approach. Mihawk’s grip around you didn’t waiver, keeping you tightly against him, only moving his lips from your neck so he was about to speak.

”You’re early” Irritation ebbing in his words, his thumb rubbing idol circles against your exposed hip.

”You’re late, been here for 10 minutes already.” It wasn’t like Mihawk to be late for anything so you knew he was likely irritated with himself more than Crocodile.

”Is the Clown here?”

“Didn’t tell him we were meeting, I didn’t feel like putting up with him.” You watched as Crocodile stood on one of the many balconies that overlooked the courtyard, taking his cigar out from between his teeth to blow a puff of smoke into the wind.

”Fine.” The swordsman sighed, his arms unwrapping themselves from your waist and his breath disappearing from your nape. “I’ll meet you inside.” He called up to the man, hoping his tone was enough of a message.

HIs unspoken demand for the man to leave them seemed to be conveyed, as the man above you laughed but stepped inside nonetheless. “Come, accompany me to the boardroom.” He held out his hand to you, quickly taking it as you both walked through the courtyard and inside where you left the practice sword just inside the door, fully intending to return outside later in the evening to continue practicing.

As the two of you walked through the halls you were quickly becoming more comfortable in, you saw a shift in Mihawk, not one that was new to you. When it was just the two of you, he was gentle, more willing to speak his mind on all matters, but whenever there was someone else on his grounds he would harden. You finally approached the double doors that were held open, the smell of cigar smoke as you drew near was an unusual smell in his estate but something about it was rather enticing. “Mihawk,” Your voice caused him to slow to a stop just before the doors, turning his attention to you, his eyes softening as they met yours. ”Could I meet him?” The swordsman’s eyebrows raised, as though he wasn’t able to control his surprise.

“Why?” You shrugged, looking down at your feet for the briefest of seconds before he pulled your chin up with a single bent finger.

“I-I, uh, I heard about him during everything with Impel Down, how he kinda’ tried to save Fire Fist Ace, and ever since then, I’ve kinda’ been interested in him.” You knew your face was bright red, and the subtle raise of Mihawk’s brow at you mentioning you were interested in him was enough to make you scramble more, possibly digging yourself an even deeper grave. “Not interested interested in him. More so, what he does. I like that he’s only really out for himself, l-like you are…” You wished you could have taken everything you just said back, but you could tell by the way the corners of his mouth quirked up he was almost amused. Whether said amusement came from your clear embarrassment or seeing a piece of you he hadn’t seen before, you were unsure.

“My my my, seems like you’re quite the fan. He let go of your chin so you could break the forced eye contact.

“I wouldn’t say that.” You tried but your defeated tone was enough to confirm his accusation.

“Should I be jealous?” Your head shot up, ready to list off all the reasons why he was the superior of the pair, but his gentle smile was enough to reassure you that he didn’t really mean it. “I suppose meeting my business associate isn’t an outlandish request.” His hands grabbed your waist, tugging you against him quick enough that a small surprised yip slipped from your lips. His lips were against the shell of your ear, his breath sending chills down your neck. “Just remember, my sweet, innocent little rabbit” His lips ghosted against your cartilage as he spoke “No matter what happens in that room, you’re mine.” And as though he hadn’t been flush against you a half second ago, he was leading you into the board room, hand on the small of your back guiding you as though this were your first time in here.

And there he sat, at the head of the table on the far end of the room, lit fireplace behind him, causing a warm dancing light over his features. His fur coat was draped over the chair to his left, pages of legal jargon clenched between his ringed fingers, his cigar clenched between his teeth and his lavender eyes on you the instant you were in view. “‘Bout time, Hawkeyes.”

“You have my deepest apologies, we lost track of time.” Mihawk guided you around the table, it wasn’t until you were approaching Crocodile that you realized just how much he towered over your slight partner. ”Crocodile,” He nudged you forward “this is my partner” The larger man dropped the pages on the table, quickly reaching his seemingly massive hand towards you, urging you to put yours in it.

“To think I’ve been here how many times, and this is the first time I’m getting the pleasure of laying eyes on you.” He pulled your hand to his lips, his purple eyes never leaving your expression, except only to briefly glance down at your slightly exposed cleavage. “Does he keep you locked up when I’m around, pretty girl?” You were ashamed of the way your core throbbed at his newfound nickname for you, your lips parting as you tried to come up with the appropriate response to that, but instead Mihawk interjected.

“Is this the Clown’s newest business venture pitch?” You watch as your partner reaches around you to grab the stack of papers that Crocodile had been reading as you first entered. The larger man didn’t respond, rather he rumbled out an affirmative mhm that you felt as much as you heard.

You heard Mihawk pull the chair out that was behind you, sitting on it as he scanned the words on the pages, leaving you to the Devil Fruit user. “Where did Hawkeye find such an impressive young woman?” His lips moved against your hand until he pulled back, still holding your hand in his.

“I got captured by the Marines, but managed to throw myself overboard before we got to their base. I ended up washing up on Mihawk’s shoreline.”

“Taking in strays again, I see.” He spoke louder to draw the attention of the man behind you, his eyes didn’t leave the pages as he answered.

”A bad habit I suppose.” Crocodile’s attention was back onto you, dragging up and down your form as though committing it to memory. “She’s a fan of yours.” You wanted to turn around and chastise your partner for outting you, your cheeks flushing and just when you were about to pull away, Crocodile closed his hand around yours and yanked you closer.

”A fan eh?” His hook pressed into your back as he adjusted his position so he could pull you in between his spread thighs. You were at a complete loss of words, it felt like nothing you could say would be able to save you. “And such a pretty one at that.” You could feel Mihawk’s eyes on you, but he didn’t speak up the way you thought he would. “You should show me how big of a fan you are.” Crocodile whispered huskily as he pressed the curved side of his hook harder against your back, pressing your body against his.

And then you felt it. It had been so long since you had felt the way your body seemed to buzz as Mihawk used Observation Haki to read you with more ease than he does a novel. He could tell you wanted this, could feel the way your body was trying to resist melting into the larger man’s body, but he also noticed the tinge of hesitation, the way you were holding out for his permission.

“If you want to do this my little rabbit, know that restraint is not in the brute’s vocabulary.”

“Fuck you” The larger man spat, his attention turning from you to Mihawk behind you.

“I would have thought you’d learn some manners when I’m allowing you to use something of mine.”

“C-Can I have…” Both their attention was brought back to you who was still resisting the pull of Crocodile who’s hook had dripped lowers and now ran up and down the back of your thighs. “Can I have both?” You finally allowed yourself to melt into Crocodile’s chest, just in time to feel the rumble of his laugh.

“You’ve got yourself one hell of a woman, Hawk-eye.” He managed out between laughs, his arm wrapping around you, nestling his nose into your hair.

“I have yet to find something she can’t do,” Mihawk stood from his chair and closed the distance between the two of you, brushing some hair from the side of your face so he could press a kiss to your cheek from behind, taking the briefest moment to nip at the apple of your cheek as he finished his thought “shall we see if you’ve met your match, my dear?”

The smell of the two men’s colognes intermingling would have normally been overpowering to you, but today it was invigorating, giving you a confidence you had never felt before. “What do you want first, baby girl?”

“I-I don’t know.” Mihawk smiled against you, the pads of his fingers pressing into the meat of your hips.

“She gets shy when faced with a decision.” His lips moved against your skin as he caught some skin between his front teeth, his tongue running along it.

“Is that so?” Crocodile let you go, bringing his hook around to pull your chin up so you met his gaze. “We’ll have to work on that, now won’t we?” You nodded slightly, feeling your legs turn into jelly. When your lips met his it was such a different experience from kissing Mihawk, or anyone for that matter. Right out of the gates he was pressing his tongue into your mouth, his hand grabbing a handful of your hair and used it to manipulate you as he pleased, all while Mihawk sucked progressively darker hickies onto your neck. Every time the larger man nipped your lower lip you tried your best to return the favor, not missing the way he groaned into your greedy mouth.

You could feel Mihawk’s gentle but firm hand run down your side and around to the front of our workout sweater, his hand quickly finding the zipper and pulling it down with an infuriatingly slow pace. Crocodile pulled back, not commenting on the line of saliva that connected your lips to his for the briefest of moments before he leaned back and watched your partner undress you slowly.

Having not expected anything more than training this evening, you had dressed for the activity. A black hoodie that was snug enough to give you a full range of motion, without requiring anything underneath, meaning that when Mihawk pulled the sweater off of you, you were only left in a pair of bike shorts that were surely damp between your legs. You fought the instinct to cover yourself with your arms, instead digging your nails into your palm subconsciously as you forced yourself to remain on display.

As Crocodile brought a massive hand to your stomach, running it up until he could cup your left breast in his hand, you felt Mihawk pry your hand open, his lips coming to your ear, shh-ing you, clearly aware of your shyness. “We’re here to enjoy you, but also for you to enjoy us, don’t get in your head, my love.” His words helped you relax, a sigh slipping out as Crocodile caught your nipple between his middle finger and index, pinching it enough to make your core throb. You watched as the larger man leaned forward, ducking his head so he could catch your breast in his mouth, his tongue on your nipple before you could even breathe. Acting on impulse, you ran your fingers through Crocodile’s hair, your fingers feeling the gel he used to keep it perfectly slicked back, but also noticing just how soft his locks were, running your fingers through them as he moved to your other breast.

“How does that feel, my little rabbit?” You tipped your head back, resting it on Mihawk’s shoulder and closing your eyes so you could focus entirely on the feeling of Croc’s wet tongue flicking and circling your areola.

“It feels- ah- it feels really goood.” Mihawk’s hand ran down your stomach, slipping past the waist of your shorts as though they weren’t even there, quickly following the curve of your body until his fingers were met with your soaked heat.

“Is this what you hoped would happen?” He spoke right into your ear, feeling the way you rutted against his fingers before he had really even started touching you.

“I think she’s been wanting this since she got to your little island.”

“Perhaps since before she met me.” Mihawk said smugly, meeting the gaze of his business partner as Crocodile pulled away from your chest to watch the scene in front of him. Mihawk brought his free hand to your neck, holding onto your throat with enough force to remind you it was there but not to restrict your breathing.

“Probably fingered her little cunt to my wanted poster.”

“Did you do that, my love?” Mihawk’s lips moved against your cheek as his fingers rubbed tantalizing circles around your clit, Crocodile’s eyes glued to your flushed cheeks as you fought against your urge to moan, shaking your head.

“I-I could n-never get my hands on o-one.” You turned your head to hide your face in the Mihawk’s neck, moans slipping from your lips as you rutted against his fingers.

“Don’t worry, princess.” Crocodile grabbed the front of your shorts, yanking them down to your thighs in one quick motion of his hand, making you clench your thighs around your partner’s working hand. His hook ran up your body, starting at your mound, up your stomach, over your right breast until he could guide your chin from your partner’s neck so he could see you “I’ll make sure you leave with one.”

His lilac eyes held your’s the same way Mihawk’s gold ones did. The curved side of his hook moved your chin from side to side, moans still flowing from your mouth as Mihawk pressed his middle finger into your soaked hole. The larger of the two men guided your lips to his, capturing them in a much slower pace then you would have expected of him, almost as though he were teasing you. Every time you licked at his lips he would pull away a bit, until you were grabbing at the front of his vest in desperation “I can’t wait to feel these pretty lips around my cock.” You moaned needily into his mouth in response, giving the two men the signal that you too wanted to move this along.

When Mihawk pulled his fingers out of you, you couldn’t stop the whine as your body tried to clench around nothing. “Don’t worry my rabbit, we’re just going to move you so you’re more comfortable. How’s that sound?” You nodded as his hands grabbed your hips and helped you over to the edge of the massive dining table. He turned you around so your cheeks were just barely on the edge before picking you up and onto the table as though you weighed even less than Yoru.

As though you knew what was coming, you laid back against the cold wood of the table, watching as Crocodile stood on the opposite side of the table as your partner, his eyes taking you in as someone may stare at a finely plated meal in front of them. The table wasn’t overly wide, meaning your head was just over the edge, as were your legs which dangled from your knees down. You could feel Mihawk’s lips on your thighs, lavishing you with kisses and the occasional nip as he pushed your knees apart.

“Hurry up, Crocodile, we still have business to discuss.” You could feel the breath of Mihawk’s words against your soaked core, making you raise your hips ever so slightly as though you were reminding him that you were there.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t conduct our meeting now.” The larger man stepped closer to you, chewing on the end of his cigar as he worked to undo his tented slacks. “Unless you prefer not to talk with your mouth full, that is.” As if right on que, Mihawk pressed his face into your dripping folds, his tongue pressing into your hole, holding your legs open with one hand while the other pressed against your clit, evoking a long moan from you.

“That’s right, baby girl, open that mouth real wide for daddy.” He pulled his cock out from his pants, working his hand over it slowly as he watched your lips part every time Mihawk greedily lapped at your cunt.

His size was impressive, not just his length but his girth was bound to push the limits of your gag reflex. “You can take me, can’t you?” His voice was smug, running the curve of his hook along your cheek as you nodded. “This is just a warm up for when I get a turn with that sweet little cunt of yours.” He growled as he stepped closer to you, his musk intoxicating you more than you had ever experienced. Your mouth opened wider as though you were inviting him in, taking a long breath in through your nose before you felt the head of his cock push between your lips.

He took his time more then you expected, clearly trying his best to give you time to get used to his size before he began fucking your throat. Inch by inch he sank into you until you felt his pelvis against your chin and his heavy balls rested just under your nose, stifling you in his scent. He held there for a few seconds, until he felt your throat begin to constrict around him, giving him the signal that you needed air and pulling out until just his head remained against your tongue. “Such a good girl, taking me with no complaints.” With his hand and his hook planted firmly on the table and pressed his hips into you again, groaning as he felt you moan around him.

Your focus was on not gagging, swallowing around him whenever he pulled out enough to allow it and to breath through your nose. So when you felt his warm hand grab yours it surprised you, he didn’t say anything to explain what he was doing, pulling out enough that you could swallow before feeling your own hand held against your neck. He pressed into you again, and you could feel him. Like honest and truly feel him in your throat, your throat widening to accommodate him, “Feel that baby girl, that’s all me.” You tried your best to moan around him but when he pressed fully into you his balls made it hard to take a full breath through your nose. “Hawk-eye” Crocodile tried his best to sound normal, not wanting to let on just how close he was.

Mihawk pulled away from your slick folds, wiping his face on your inner thigh before allowing his gaze to meet Crocodile’s as he pulled entirely out of your mouth, leaving you gasping. “You gonna’ fuck her?” Both you and your partner could tell his voice was shaking, but you knew you would take that point to the grave.

“Do you think I should?” You could hear the smirk on your partner’s face, knowing it was taking every ounce of your self control not to beg him to. “I normally make her work much harder than this.” Whether Mihawk was in idol thought or just wanted it to appear that way, he sat in contemplation, his finger tapping your clit as he tried to decide. “We still have so much to discuss, Crocodile.” The larger man nodded, helping you to sit up on the table, your head swimming when your watery eyes met his. “But you can help our dear guest, can’t you?” You were held there by his golden eyes, his hands moving up and down your thighs. “It’s the least you can do, since you caused it.” Mihawk stood up, grabbed your waist and hauled you off the table he had put you on not that long ago.

As if you knew what he was thinking, you didn’t try to stand, allowing him to put you on your knees in front of the chair he sat back down on. His hand quickly finding its way to your hair, twirling your tresses around his long fingers, signalling Crocodile to join the two of you. The moment you were eye to eye with the larger man’s cock you pulled forward, quickly stopped by Mihawk’s grip turned vice in your hair which yanked you back. “If you so much as think about touching yourself I will ensure you feel nothing but that ache between those needy legs of yours for weeks.” He had leaned forward so his words were whispered hotly in your ear, nodding as much as his grip on your hair would allow. “Now, help our guest.”

He didn’t need to say anything more. His grip loosened enough for you to lean forward, your lips wrapping around Crocodile’s leaking cock and greedily swallowing him. You didn’t need to take it slowly, one hand steadying yourself on what little of his bare hip you could touch, while the other wrapped around his base. The room quickly filled with the sounds of slurping, your eyes closed, focusing on enjoying this moment, the way when you swallowed him completely Mihawk would tug back on your hair just enough to make you whine, the low groans you felt rumble through Crocodile’s body.

“You’re doing such a good job, my eager little rabbit.” The grip on your hair shifted, his palm flat against the back of your head, controlling your movements. “I think our guest is getting to his end.” He forced you to swallow the entire cock of his partner, holding you down until you began to gag around the member before he pulled you all the way off, spit coating your lips and sliding down your chin. “You can’t deny she looks her best like this.” He forced you to look up at the man above you, his expression could be referred to as nothing but starving.

“More beautiful than any diamond I’ve seen.”

“Now, let’s finish this so we can get this meeting out of the way, shall we?” It was unclear who the question was directed at, but you were quickly forced back onto Crocodile’s cock, his head bullying past your uvula and stretching your throat out. Mihawk’s pace was brutal, far too quick to keep up with with your hand, making holding onto his thighs the better hand placement option. “Moan around his cock” Mihawk’s voice was low, almost gruff as he commanded.

Your moans were met with a curse from the man above you, his ringed fingers moving to rest on top of your head, nudging against the grip of the man behind you. Mihawk kept up his bruising pace, your eyes were closed, doing your best to focus on breathing through your nose and swallowing around him whenever given the chance. It wasn’t long before Crocodile’s groans flowed more freely, curses slipping out as his hips began moving with you.

One more hard thrust and his cock pulsed against your tongue, his seed spilling filling your mouth. The taste far more bitter than Mihawk’s, likely a sign of his heavy cigar smoking, but you weren’t going to complain. As he pulled out, you couldn’t deny the ache in your jaw that persisted even once you were able to close your mouth.

As Crocodile stuffed himself back in his slacks and lit another of his seemingly endless supply of cigars, Mihawk tipped your head back against his lap, dabbing at your face with a monogrammed handkerchief. “You did so well, my love.”

“You did.” Crocodile’s voice was gruffer than usual, his eyes never leaving you. “Can’t wait to return the favor after our meeting.”

#one piece smut #one piece #ao3 #ao3 author #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #mihawk x reader #mihawk smut #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile smut

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callsigns-haze · 11 hours ago

Text

What ruined this Christmas so quickly? Lies. 2

Part 1 here

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x wife!reader

Summary: Just a few weeks before Christmas all goes downhill. You're left taking care of the kids and leaving work early and now your husbands brings up the topic of moving as soon as possible to San Diego. You're overwhelmed but he's willing to go no matter the lies he told.

Warnings: Mentions of throwing up, mentions of sickness, lies, overwhelmed reader, arguments SMUT

Word count: 10.6k

At 6 a.m., the household stirred to life, much earlier than Bradley had hoped. The first sound was Theo’s sharp cry from the baby mattress nestled beside the bed. The sudden noise startled him out of a restless sleep, his eyes snapping open. Before he could fully sit up, another sound followed—Anna’s small voice calling out from her bed in their shared room.

“Daddy! Theo’s crying!” she called, her voice groggy but insistent.

Bradley groaned softly, rubbing his hands over his face as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He glanced at Theo, whose little fists flailed in the air, his cries growing louder by the second.

“Alright, buddy, I’m coming,” Bradley muttered, his voice thick with sleep.

Anna was already out of her bed, her messy hair falling into her eyes as she clutched her blankie and stood near Theo’s mattress. She looked up at Bradley with wide eyes. “Is Theo okay?”

“He’s fine, Annabelle,” Bradley assured her as he scooped Theo up, gently rocking him. “He’s just hungry.”

Anna trailed behind him as he headed to the kitchen, still clutching her blanket and dragging it along the floor. “Can I help?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

“Why don’t you sit at the table, and I’ll get him a bottle?” Bradley suggested, nodding toward the dining area.

Anna complied, climbing up onto one of the chairs and resting her chin on her arms as she watched him move around the kitchen. Bradley quickly prepared a bottle, testing the temperature before settling into the chair beside Anna to feed Theo.

“Did you sleep okay, Banana?” he asked, glancing at her.

She nodded slowly, but then scrunched her nose. “Not really. I woke up a lot because Judy was coughing.”

Bradley frowned, his gaze flicking toward the hallway. He’d check on Judy as soon as Theo was settled. “She’s still not feeling good, huh?”

Anna shook her head solemnly. “No. She said her throat hurt last night.”

Bradley sighed, the worry from the night before creeping back in. Between Theo’s early wake-ups, Anna’s boundless energy, and Judy being sick, it was shaping up to be a long day. And you were still at work, likely swamped with tasks after your overnight shift.

“After this, we’ll check on Judy, okay?” he told her.

“Okay,” Anna agreed, stifling a yawn.

Bradley gently lifted the now-empty bottle from Theo’s little hands and brought him up to his shoulder, patting his back softly. Theo squirmed a little before letting out a small, satisfying burp.

“Good job, buddy,” Bradley murmured, his voice low and soothing.

He looked over at Anna, who was still sitting at the table, her head resting on her arms. “Hey, Banana, why don’t you go watch some TV for a bit? I’ll put on your cartoons.”

Anna perked up at the suggestion, nodding eagerly. “Can I watch the animal show?”

“Sure thing,” Bradley said with a tired smile as he stood up, balancing Theo in one arm. He guided Anna into the living room, turning on her favorite wildlife documentary. She climbed onto the couch, pulling her blanket up around her shoulders as she settled in.

With Anna occupied, Bradley carried Theo back into the kitchen and placed him in the bassinet by the window. “Alright, buddy, time for a little rest,” he whispered, gently tucking the baby blanket around him. Theo blinked up at him sleepily, his earlier cries now a distant memory.

Satisfied that Theo was settled, Bradley headed down the hall to Judy’s room. He pushed the door open quietly, peeking inside. Judy was still curled up in her bed, her face pale against the pillows. Her breathing was slow and a little raspy, and her hair was a messy halo around her head.

“Judy?” Bradley whispered, stepping closer.

She stirred at the sound of his voice, her eyes fluttering open. “Hi, Rooster,” she croaked, her voice hoarse.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bradley said softly, sitting down on the edge of her bed. He reached out, brushing her hair back from her face. “How are you feeling?”

Judy shrugged weakly, her small shoulders barely moving. “Tired,” she murmured.

Bradley frowned, resting the back of his hand against her forehead. It was warm—warmer than it had been the night before. He grabbed the thermometer from her bedside table, turning it on before gently placing it in her ear.

When the thermometer beeped, he checked the reading: 101.5°F. A low-grade fever.

“Still warm, kiddo,” he said softly, setting the thermometer aside. “Your throat still hurting?”

Judy nodded, her face scrunching up slightly.

Bradley sighed, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “Alright. I’ll get you some medicine and a glass of water. Maybe some honey for your throat.”

“Okay,” Judy mumbled, her eyes already starting to close again.

Bradley stood and pulled the blankets up around her, tucking her in snugly. “I’ll be right back, Jude,” he promised, smoothing the covers over her.

Bradley descended the stairs quietly, the creak of the old wooden steps under his weight barely audible over the sound of the TV in the living room. He peeked over to check on Anna, who was completely engrossed in her wildlife show, her small form bundled under her blanket on the couch.

Satisfied she was occupied, he made his way into the kitchen. He opened the cabinet where you kept the kids’ medications, pulling out the liquid acetaminophen for Judy. He set the bottle on the counter, then grabbed a clean spoon from the drawer and filled a small glass with water.

Bradley thought for a moment, remembering your go-to remedy for sore throats. He reached for the honey jar, scooping out just a little to stir into the water. The warm mixture would be easier for her to sip without irritating her throat further.

Balancing the items in his hands, he glanced at the baby bassinet near the window. Theo was still sound asleep, his tiny chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Bradley took a moment to adjust the blanket over him before heading back toward the stairs.

As he passed through the living room, Anna looked up from the screen.

“Is Judy still sick?” she asked, her voice soft with concern.

“Yeah, Anna, she’s still not feeling great,” Bradley replied, pausing to ruffle her hair. “But I’m giving her some medicine and water. She’ll be okay.”

Anna nodded, her attention returning to the TV. Bradley continued upstairs, carefully balancing the glass and medicine bottle as he made his way back to Judy’s room.

Bradley stepped quietly into Judy’s room, the glass of honey water and the medicine bottle still in his hands. She was half-sitting up now, propped against her pillows, her pale face peeking out from under her blanket. Her tired eyes opened a little wider when she saw him.

“Hey, Jude,” he said softly, sitting down on the edge of her bed. He placed the glass on her bedside table, then unscrewed the cap from the medicine bottle, carefully pouring the correct dose into the small plastic cup.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said gently, holding the cup out to her. “This will help with the fever and make you feel a little better.”

Judy wrinkled her nose but obediently reached for the cup. She hesitated for a moment, looking up at Bradley with a wary expression.

“It’s not going to taste good, is it?”

Bradley chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Probably not, but it’s quick. Just take it all at once, like a champ.”

Judy sighed and tipped the cup to her lips, swallowing the medicine. Almost immediately, her face scrunched up in discomfort. She started coughing and gagging, her small body jerking forward.

Bradley reacted instantly, grabbing the bucket you had placed beside her bed the night before. He held it in front of her as she coughed and retched, her face turning red.

“It’s okay, Judy,” he said quickly, rubbing her back as she spat into the bucket. “You’re alright. Just breathe.”

She sat back after a moment, her eyes watery and her breaths shaky. “It’s so gross,” she whined, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“I know, kiddo,” Bradley said, setting the bucket down on the floor within easy reach. “But you did it, and I’m proud of you. The worst part’s over now.”

Judy gave him a small nod, leaning back against her pillows. Bradley picked up the glass of honey water and handed it to her.

“Here, sip this,” he said. “It’ll help get rid of that taste.”

She took the glass and drank a little, her face relaxing slightly as the sweetness replaced the bitterness of the medicine.

“Better?” he asked.

She nodded again, her voice still a little hoarse. “Yeah, a little.”

Bradley smiled, tucking the blankets back around her. “Good. Now, just rest, okay? I’ll check on you in a bit.”

Judy yawned and settled deeper into the bed, her eyelids already drooping. Bradley picked up the medicine cup and the spoon, giving her one last look before quietly leaving the room, making a mental note to wash out the bucket later.

Bradley made his way downstairs, pausing briefly to check on Theo, who was still sound asleep in the bassinet. Anna was sprawled on the couch, her blanket twisted around her legs as she watched her wildlife show.

“Hey, Banana,” he called gently, stepping into the kitchen. “You hungry?”

Anna turned her head, her messy hair falling into her eyes. “Yes! Can I have pancakes?”

Bradley chuckled, opening the fridge to grab the milk and eggs. “Pancakes, huh? Alright, but you have to help me eat them. No leftovers today.”

“Deal!” Anna called, hopping off the couch and running to the kitchen table to watch him.

As he set the ingredients on the counter, Bradley pulled his phone from his pocket. He tapped out a quick text to you, knowing you’d probably already been up for hours.

Good morning. Everyone’s up—Theo cried at six and woke Anna. Judy’s still running a fever, but I gave her some medicine. Making pancakes for Anna now. Hope you’re doing okay at work.

He hit send, set the phone down on the counter, and grabbed a mixing bowl. Anna swung her legs back and forth from her chair, humming a little tune to herself as she watched him crack eggs into the bowl and whisk them together.

“Can I help stir?” she asked eagerly.

“Of course,” Bradley replied, sliding the bowl closer to her. He handed her the whisk, steadying her small hands as she giggled and stirred with all her might.

As Anna concentrated on her “stirring duties,” Bradley glanced at his phone, wondering if you’d have time to respond. Even though things were tense, he hoped the text would at least remind you he was trying to keep everything under control at home.

As Bradley finished helping Anna stir the pancake batter, a faint rustling sound came from the baby monitor on the counter. He glanced at the screen and saw Theo standing up in his crib, gripping the rails for balance with a wide, toothless grin. His messy curls flopped as he bounced slightly, his usual morning energy already on full display.

Bradley sighed, amused, and looked over at Anna. “Okay, kiddo, keep stirring, but don’t go near the pan, alright? I’ll be right back.”

Anna nodded seriously, though she wrinkled her nose. “I know, Daddy. I’m not a baby.”

“Yeah, well, just don’t let me smell burnt pancakes, okay?” he teased.

When he walked into the room room, the little boy’s face lit up. “Dada!” Theo chirped, gripping the crib rails tighter and bouncing again.

Bradley couldn’t help but smile. “Good morning to you too, buddy.” He reached into the crib and scooped Theo up, holding him close. Theo leaned into his chest, his little hand grabbing at Bradley’s shirt as he mumbled another “Dada,” the only word he could say so far.

“Let’s go get you some breakfast,” Bradley said, carrying him downstairs.

Back in the kitchen, Anna was standing on a chair near the stove, pointing at the pan dramatically. “Daddy! They’re burning!”

“Anna, what did I just say about getting near the pan?” Bradley said, his voice sharper than he intended as he hurried to the stove. He turned down the heat and flipped the pancakes, a couple of them slightly darker than intended.

“Sorry!” Anna said, shrinking back into her chair.

Bradley sighed, adjusting Theo in his arms and softening his tone. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Just let me handle the stove, alright?”

Anna nodded, and Bradley leaned over to kiss her head before moving Theo to his high chair. He strapped the toddler in and placed a few of his favourite baby biscuits on the tray. Theo immediately grabbed one and started gnawing on it, babbling happily between bites.

“Dada, dada,” Theo mumbled again, his eyes sparkling as he held up a soggy biscuit like it was a prize.

Bradley chuckled, wiping a bit of drool from Theo’s chin. “Yeah, that’s me, buddy.”

Bradley finished the last batch of pancakes, carefully flipping each one before stacking them on a plate. He grabbed the syrup, a small bowl of fruit, and a glass of milk for Anna, carrying everything over to the table.

“Alright, kiddo, dig in,” he said, setting the plate down in front of her.

Anna’s face lit up as she grabbed her fork. “Thanks, Daddy!”

“Just don’t eat too fast,” Bradley warned with a chuckle, ruffling her hair.

He turned his attention back to Theo, who was happily munching on his biscuits, his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. Bradley grabbed a small bowl and filled it with some mashed banana, sitting down in front of Theo to spoon-feed him between bites of his own breakfast.

“You’ve got it easy, little man,” Bradley joked as Theo eagerly opened his mouth for another bite. “No flipping pancakes for you, huh?”

Theo responded with a delighted, “Dada!”

Bradley smiled, but his mind wandered briefly to you. He wondered how your morning was going—whether you’d had a chance to breathe or if work had been as hectic as always. He checked his phone on the counter, but there wasn’t a reply yet to his earlier text.

Turning back to the kids, he saw Anna stabbing her pancakes with a fork, her mouth sticky with syrup. Theo babbled happily in his high chair, smearing mashed banana on his tray.

“Alright, Banana,” Bradley said, slipping back into her nickname without thinking. “After breakfast, it’s straight to the bath for you and your brother. Deal?”

Anna nodded with a grin. “Okay, but only if I can have bubbles!”

“Deal,” Bradley agreed, wiping a bit of banana from Theo’s face as he started planning out the rest of the morning. Breakfast, baths, checking on Judy again—it was all manageable.

---

You stood at the whiteboard, marker in hand, as you stared at the equations you’d been working on for the past hour. The formulas were complicated—strings of variables, constants, and brackets that seemed to taunt you with their complexity. Your lips pressed into a thin line as you tapped the end of the marker against your chin, trying to pinpoint where the calculations felt off.

The sound of the door creaking open barely registered until you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Still trying to crack the code, Einstein?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you turned to see Matt leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. His shirt was untucked, and he had a coffee cup in hand, looking every bit the definition of laid-back.

“Don’t you have your own equations to mess up?” you shot back, crossing your arms.

Matt laughed, stepping into the room and taking a sip of his coffee. “Probably, but it’s more fun watching you battle it out with the whiteboard.” He tilted his head, squinting at your work. “Let me guess—still on the orbital trajectory adjustments for the new satellites?”

You turned back to the board with a huff. “It’s not the trajectory that’s the problem. It’s the stupid velocity constraints. They don’t balance with the fuel consumption models.” You gestured at the rows of calculations, frustration creeping into your voice. “If I adjust for the constraints, it throws off everything else.”

Matt took another sip of his coffee, stepping closer to inspect the equations. “You know, this whole perfectionist thing you’ve got going on—it’s a little exhausting to watch.”

“Then don’t watch,” you quipped, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Come on, you’re killing me here,” Matt teased, gesturing at the board. “You’re like one of those geniuses in movies who refuses help until the last second when someone like me swoops in with a fresh perspective.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Fresh perspective, huh? Let me guess, you’re about to tell me to carry the two or something equally ground-breaking?”

Matt grinned. “No, but I’m just saying, you could take a break. Sometimes the answer shows up when you’re not trying so hard.”

You sighed, stepping back from the board and glancing at him. “You’re probably right. But if this doesn’t get done by tomorrow—”

“Yeah, yeah, the world ends,” Matt said with mock seriousness. “Look, I’ll even buy you a coffee if it’ll get you to step away for five minutes. You’re scary when you’re this focused.”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes again, but his teasing did make you feel a little lighter. “Fine, but only because I need caffeine.”

“Caffeine and maybe some company,” Matt added with a wink as he headed toward the door.

You chuckled, grabbing your notebook and following him out, already feeling the weight of the equations lifting just a little.

As you walked out of the office with Matt, your notebook tucked under your arm, he glanced sideways at you, his teasing grin fading into a more serious expression.

“Alright,” he said, stopping abruptly and turning to face you. “What the hell is going on with you?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”

“You.” He gestured vaguely in your direction. “You’ve been wound tighter than usual all week. And before you try to brush me off with some ‘I’m fine,’ let me remind you that I’ve worked with you long enough to know when you’re not fine.”

You sighed, your shoulders slumping slightly. “Matt, it’s nothing. Just… normal life stuff. Kids, work, schedules—”

“And yet, you look like you haven’t slept in days, you’re laser-focused on this project like it’s your lifeline, and you’re snapping at everyone who so much as breathes wrong around you,” he said, crossing his arms. “So, no, it’s not nothing. Spill.”

You hesitated, the weight of everything that had been piling up threatening to spill over. Finally, you leaned against the wall and ran a hand through your hair. “Bradley’s leaving again.”

Matt frowned. “Leaving? Like, for work?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice tinged with frustration. “He got orders to go back to Top Gun after New Year’s, and we just—” You stopped, shaking your head. “We just moved into a new house. The kids are finally settling in, and now we’re talking about uprooting everything again. And on top of that, I’ve been missing work because the kids keep getting sick. It’s just… a lot.”

Matt nodded, his expression softening. “Damn, that’s rough. So, what—you’re trying to juggle all this and act like it’s no big deal?”

You gave a half-hearted shrug. “What else am I supposed to do? Someone has to keep things running.”

He sighed, taking a step closer. “Look, I know you’re Superwoman and all, but even you can’t do everything on your own. It’s okay to admit you’re struggling.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, well, admitting it doesn’t exactly fix anything, does it?”

“No, but it might help you breathe for a second,” Matt said, his tone softer. “You don’t have to carry all this by yourself, you know.”

You looked down at the floor, his words hitting a little too close to home. After a moment, you pushed off the wall and straightened up. “Thanks, Matt. But right now, I just need to focus on getting through this project.”

He nodded, though his expression was still sceptical. “Alright. But if you need a break—or, you know, someone to vent to—I’m around. And I mean it. Don’t implode on me, okay?”

You managed a small smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As you sat back down at your desk, your phone buzzed faintly against the table. You picked it up, your finger hovering over the screen as you noticed a text from Bradley—sent two hours ago.

Bradley: Good morning. Everyone’s up—Theo cried at six and woke Anna. Judy’s still running a fever, but I gave her some medicine. Making pancakes for Anna now. Hope you’re doing okay at work.

You exhaled, a mix of relief and guilt washing over you. Relief that he was managing things at home, and guilt that you hadn’t seen the message sooner. You could picture it all: Theo’s loud cries breaking the early morning quiet, Anna’s groggy but cheerful energy, Judy still curled up in bed trying to fight off her fever.

Your thumb hovered over the keyboard for a moment as you thought about how to respond. Finally, you typed back:

You: Hey, just saw this. Thanks for handling everything this morning. Hope Judy’s feeling better and Anna didn’t burn anything in the kitchen. I’m okay—just busy. Miss you.

You hit send and stared at the screen for a second, hoping he wasn’t feeling overwhelmed with the kids. Part of you wanted to check in more, to ask if he needed anything, but the other part knew he’d already tell you if things were falling apart.

---

Upstairs, Bradley stood in the bathroom, already drenched from the mini war happening in the tub. Anna sat in the bath surrounded by bubbles, her wet hair sticking to her cheeks as she held her rubber duck like a shield.

“Anna,” Bradley said, trying to keep his voice calm, “you have to let me rinse the shampoo out. It’s not an option.”

“No!” she squealed, clutching the duck tighter and leaning back against the tub. “It’ll get in my eyes!”

“It’s tear-free shampoo,” Bradley explained, holding the showerhead above her head. “I promise it won’t sting. Just tilt your head back for me.”

She squinted at him suspiciously, her lower lip sticking out. “You said that last time, and it still got in my eyes.”

“Because you moved, Banana,” Bradley countered, sighing. “If you stay still this time, it won’t happen. I’ll be super careful.”

Anna crossed her arms, her duck now floating aimlessly in the water. “Can I hold the sprayer instead?”

“No way,” Bradley replied quickly, knowing where that would lead. “Nice try, but you’re not soaking the walls again.”

She huffed dramatically but leaned her head back just enough for him to start rinsing her hair. Bradley kept one hand cupped above her forehead to shield her eyes, moving as quickly as he could.

“See? Almost done,” he said, his tone softening as he worked.

“Are you gonna make me wear my itchy shirt today?” she asked, her voice small but filled with suspicion.

“No itchy shirts,” Bradley promised. “You can wear your unicorn one. Deal?”

“Deal,” she muttered, relaxing slightly as he finished rinsing the last of the suds.

“Alright, all done!” Bradley announced, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her. He helped her out of the tub, lifting her onto the bath mat and crouching to dry her hair.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we have pancakes for dinner too?” she asked, flashing him a cheeky grin.

Bradley chuckled, rubbing the towel over her damp hair. “We’ll see. But only if you help clean up your toys this afternoon.”

Anna nodded solemnly, as if agreeing to a very serious contract. Bradley kissed the top of her wet head and sent her off to her room to get dressed.

“Need some help, Banana?” he asked, leaning against the doorway.

Anna turned, holding up two options—a bright pink shirt with a sequined unicorn and a plain blue one. “This one, right?” she asked, waving the unicorn shirt.

“That’s the one,” Bradley said, stepping inside to help her. “Let’s get your arms through.”

He crouched down, guiding her small arms into the sleeves before tugging the shirt over her head. Anna giggled as the sequins caught the light, and she twirled around dramatically once it was on.

“Perfect,” he said, grabbing a pair of leggings from the drawer. “How about these to match?”

“Okay, Daddy,” Anna agreed, hopping on one foot as he helped her pull the leggings up. Once she was dressed, she grabbed her teddy bear from the bed and gave Bradley a quick hug.

“Thanks, Banana,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “Now, go downstairs and grab your blanket if you want to watch TV while I get Theo ready, okay?”

“Okay!” she chirped, dashing out of the room with her bear in tow.

Bradley smiled to himself before heading down the hall to Theo’s room. He peeked in to find the little boy standing in his crib, clutching the bars and bouncing slightly. As soon as Theo spotted Bradley, his face lit up.

“Dada!” Theo babbled, his chubby hands reaching out.

“Morning, buddy,” Bradley said, scooping him up. Theo nuzzled into his shoulder, still warm and soft from sleep. “Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?”

Bradley carried Theo into the bathroom, where he had already set up the baby tub. Placing Theo on the changing table, he stripped him out of his pyjamas, chuckling as the baby wiggled and babbled nonsensically.

“You’ve got a lot to say this morning, huh?” Bradley said, tickling Theo’s belly and earning a squeal of laughter.

Once the baby was undressed, Bradley lowered him into the warm water, using a small cup to pour water over his head. Theo splashed happily, his tiny hands slapping the surface of the water as Bradley worked quickly to clean him.

“Alright, let’s get the wiggles out so we can finish this bath,” Bradley said, laughing as Theo kicked his feet, sending water everywhere.

By the time he had Theo clean, dried, and in a fresh onesie, Bradley’s shirt was damp again, but he didn’t mind. He kissed Theo’s forehead, earning another delighted babble, before carrying him downstairs to join Anna in the living room.

When Bradley reached the bottom of the stairs, carrying a freshly cleaned Theo on his hip, he stopped short. There, on the couch, was not only Anna wrapped in her favourite blanket, but also Judy, who was sitting upright with a smug little grin on her face.

“Judy,” Bradley said, raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing out of bed?”

She looked up at him innocently, the picture of health despite the pale flush still faintly dusting her cheeks. “I don’t even feel sick anymore,” she declared confidently.

Bradley narrowed his eyes playfully and set Theo down in his high chair before crossing his arms. “Oh, really? Because last I checked, you had a fever, were coughing, and didn’t even want to eat.”

Judy shrugged, pulling Anna’s blanket tighter around her shoulders. “I feel better now. Maybe it was just a short fever. Can I stay down here with Anna?”

Bradley sighed, walking over to her and kneeling down. He placed a hand gently on her forehead and frowned. “You still feel a little warm, Jude. And you were coughing your head off last night.”

“Not anymore!” she said quickly, her tone slightly defensive. “See? No coughing.”

As if to test her theory, she cleared her throat a little too theatrically, prompting Anna to giggle.

“Nice try, kiddo,” Bradley said, shaking his head. “You might feel better, but you’re not completely out of the woods yet. You still need to rest.”

“I was resting,” Judy protested, crossing her arms. “I was just resting down here instead of in bed.”

“Uh-huh,” Bradley said, unconvinced. He glanced at Anna, who was grinning and trying to hide behind her teddy bear. “Did you drag her down here, Banana?”

“No,” Anna said with a giggle. “She came by herself!”

Bradley chuckled despite himself, ruffling Judy’s hair. “Alright, you can stay for a little bit. But if you start feeling worse, back to bed you go. Deal?”

“Deal,” Judy said, her grin widening.

“Good,” Bradley said, standing up. “But no running around, and no bugging your sister. I’m serious.”

Judy nodded obediently, but the mischievous glint in her eye made Bradley sigh. He could already tell the two of them were going to keep him on his toes for the rest of the day.

Bradley sat at the kitchen table, Theo contentedly babbling in his high chair beside him while Anna and Judy were watching cartoons in the living room. His laptop was open in front of him, the faint glow of the screen reflecting in his furrowed expression as he scrolled through flights to San Diego. He knew he shouldn’t have been doing it now—not while you were still at work, not after last night’s argument—but the guilt weighed heavy on his chest as he clicked through dates and options.

The sound of his phone buzzing on the table jolted him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen: You calling.

His stomach sank. Swiping to answer, he quickly cleared his throat before pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hey,” he greeted softly, trying to keep his voice casual. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied, the faint hum of noise in the background suggesting you were still at the lab. “I just wanted to check in. How are things going there?”

Bradley glanced at the laptop screen guiltily before closing it with one hand, his voice even. “Everything’s good. Anna’s watching TV, Judy’s feeling a little better and came downstairs for a while. Theo’s eating some biscuits—he’s got crumbs everywhere.”

You let out a small laugh, but there was a tiredness behind it that didn’t go unnoticed. “Sounds like a regular circus.”

“Always is,” Bradley replied lightly, forcing a small chuckle of his own. He could still feel the guilt gnawing at him, threatening to push its way through. Tell her, his mind urged. Tell her the truth. But the words wouldn’t come. Not yet.

“How’s work?” he asked quickly, steering the conversation away from his internal struggle.

“Busy,” you admitted with a sigh. “I’m still stuck on these formulas, but Matt’s been helpful—well, as helpful as he can be while teasing me.”

Bradley smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

“I hope so,” you replied. There was a brief pause before you asked, “How’s Judy? Is her fever still hanging on?”

“Yeah, a little,” he admitted. “But she says she feels better, so I’m keeping an eye on her. If it spikes again, I’ll call you.”

“Okay,” you murmured softly. “Thanks for handling everything today, Brad. I really appreciate it.”

Bradley’s throat tightened, the guilt pressing heavier now. He swallowed hard and leaned back in his chair, his free hand running through his hair. “Of course. You don’t even need to thank me.”

“I’ll be home in a few hours,” you said gently. “Hang in there.”

“You too,” he replied, his voice quieter now. “Drive safe.”

As the call ended, Bradley stared at his phone for a long moment before setting it face down on the table. He glanced at the closed laptop, a sinking feeling settling in his chest. He hated lying to you—hated himself for making this choice. But now the lie was already out there, and he wasn’t sure how to take it back.

“Dada?”

Theo’s little voice broke through his thoughts, the boy’s crumb-covered hands reaching toward him. Bradley managed a smile and leaned over to wipe Theo’s fingers clean. “Don’t worry, buddy,” he muttered softly, mostly to himself. “We’ll figure it out.”

Bradley sighed and pushed the laptop aside, rubbing his hands over his face as the weight of the morning settled over him. The guilt still gnawed at him, making his chest tight. He grabbed his phone off the table and unlocked it, navigating over to the Dagger Squad group chat. He hadn’t checked it since last night, when he’d texted them—“I’ll be there after New Year’s.”

The group chat was buzzing with unread messages.

Payback: Man, I can’t wait to get everyone back together. San Diego’s been too quiet without us.

Coyote: You say “quiet,” but I think you just miss the Hard Deck.

Fanboy: Don’t act like you don’t miss Penny’s drinks too, Coyote.

Phoenix: I miss Penny’s drinks. And her scolding Hangman when he gets out of line.

Bradley snorted quietly as he scrolled down. It was the usual banter, familiar and light-hearted—something that usually made him smile. But today, it just made his chest feel heavier.

Hangman: Rooster, you better not back out on us, man. You already promised.

Bradley stared at the screen, feeling his throat tighten again. I’ll be there after New Year’s. That’s what he’d told them last night. He hadn’t even mentioned it to you yet, at least not fully—not the truth.

Phoenix, always the perceptive one, had sent a single message underneath Hangman’s teasing.

Phoenix: Everything okay, Rooster?

Bradley hesitated, his thumb hovering over the screen. She was the only one who knew—who knew he had you, the kids, the life he’d built in Virginia. She hadn’t pried, but she always seemed to sense when something was off.

He started to type: Yeah, all good. Just a lot going on here.

But before he could hit send, Theo babbled again, snapping Bradley out of his daze. The little boy was playing with a biscuit, smacking it on the tray of his high chair. In the background, he heard Anna giggling at the TV, and Judy shifting on the couch.

Bradley exhaled sharply and backspaced the message. He tossed his phone onto the table, face down, just like before. He couldn’t deal with the Daggers right now—not when the truth was eating him alive. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep all the pieces of this lie together.

---

A couple of hours later, Bradley stood by the sliding glass door that led to the backyard, holding Theo securely on his hip. Judy and Anna were bundled up against the crisp air—Judy in her puffy jacket and a knit beanie, and Anna in a bright pink coat that made her look like a tiny marshmallow.

Despite still having a slight fever, Judy had begged to go outside, insisting she felt fine. Bradley had relented, on the condition that they both stayed dressed warmly and didn’t overdo it. So now, the two girls were darting around the small garden, giggling as they kicked a bright red ball back and forth.

“Careful, Jude,” Bradley called out, keeping his tone light but watchful. “Don’t overdo it, okay?”

“I’m fine, Dad!” Judy shouted back, grinning as she kicked the ball toward Anna, who squealed and chased after it with her arms flailing.

Theo babbled something incomprehensible and pointed toward his sisters, his little hand grasping the air. Bradley smiled and bounced him slightly on his hip. “You want to join them, huh, bud? Not yet—you’d get run over.”

Theo pouted dramatically, resting his head against Bradley’s shoulder, but his gaze never left the backyard.

Bradley shifted his weight, leaning against the doorframe as he watched the girls play. The sound of their laughter filled the air, and for a moment, the tension from earlier eased just a little. Anna tripped over her own feet and fell into the grass, bursting into a fit of giggles as Judy helped her up.

“You two good?” Bradley called out again, unable to stop himself from checking.

“Yes, Daddy!” Anna replied with a wide grin, waving at him before immediately turning her attention back to the ball.

“Alright, just remember the deal—if you start feeling tired, it’s back inside,” Bradley reminded Judy.

She didn’t answer, too focused on kicking the ball again, but Bradley could see the flush on her cheeks wasn’t just from the cold. He made a mental note to keep a close eye on her, just in case her fever crept back up.

Theo wiggled in his arms, and Bradley kissed the top of his head. “You’re a handful already, you know that?” he murmured, though the fondness in his tone made it clear he didn’t mean it.

The baby cooed in response, his small fingers grabbing at Bradley’s shirt, as if to say he wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

As Bradley adjusted Theo on his hip, keeping a close watch on the girls playing in the backyard, the faint sound of keys jingling at the front door caught his attention. His head turned toward the noise, and a second later, the door creaked open.

“Hey,” your voice called out, tired but warm. The sound of your bag dropping near the entryway followed, and Bradley could practically hear the relief in your movements—finally home after a long day.

“In here,” he called, his tone lifting as he shifted Theo slightly to free one hand.

A moment later, you stepped into the kitchen, your coat still on and your scarf loose around your neck. Your gaze softened the instant you saw Bradley standing by the door, Theo snuggled against his chest.

“Hi, Mama,” Bradley greeted with a small grin, nodding toward the baby in his arms. “Theo’s been waiting to see you all day. Isn’t that right, bud?”

Theo immediately perked up at the sound of your voice, his little arms reaching toward you with an excited babble.

“Oh, my sweet boy,” you cooed, stepping closer to take him from Bradley’s arms. Theo practically launched himself into your embrace, resting his head on your shoulder as you kissed the top of his fluffy hair.

“How was your day?” Bradley asked, stepping back slightly to give you space.

You let out a long sigh, still holding Theo close. “Exhausting. But it’s good to be home.” Your eyes drifted toward the sliding door, where Anna and Judy were still playing outside. “Why’s Judy out there? Isn’t she supposed to be resting?”

Bradley scratched the back of his neck, giving you a sheepish look. “She said she felt better, and her fever’s just barely hanging on. I figured a little fresh air wouldn’t hurt, as long as she’s bundled up and not running around too much.”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully but didn’t push it. “Alright. I’ll trust your judgment for now.”

Bradley smirked, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “Good, because I already promised her.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, your exhaustion momentarily forgotten as Theo nuzzled closer to you, clearly happy to have you home. “Let me get changed, and then I’ll help with dinner.”

“I’ve got it covered,” Bradley assured you, motioning toward the counter where pancake batter was still visible. “Anna demanded pancakes this morning, and I’m pretty sure she’s going to want them again for dinner. I’ll handle it.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re sure?”

“Positive,” he said with a wink. “You’ve had a long day. Let me take care of the chaos for a little while longer.”

You smiled softly, leaning into him for a moment before heading upstairs, Theo still cradled against you. Bradley watched you go, his heart feeling a little lighter now that you were home.

Upstairs, you quickly peeled off your work clothes and slipped into something more comfortable—a soft hoodie and sweatpants, nothing underneath, craving the warmth and ease after a long day. The scent of home—faintly of pancakes and something floral from the detergent—wrapped around you as you brushed your fingers through your hair and headed back downstairs.

The moment your foot hit the bottom step, you were ambushed.

“Mama!” Anna’s voice rang out, high-pitched and gleeful as she launched herself at your legs, nearly knocking you off balance. Judy followed right behind, slightly more reserved but with an unmistakable brightness in her eyes.

“Mom’s home!” Judy called, her arms wrapping around your waist while Anna clung to your legs.

“Hey, girls,” you greeted, plastering on a smile and crouching down to hug them both. Anna nuzzled into your neck while Judy leaned her head against your shoulder.

“Dad let us play outside,” Judy said, glancing toward the kitchen, where Bradley was wiping down the counters. “Roo said I still needed a jacket, though.”

You managed a chuckle, kissing the top of Judy’s head. “Well, he was right about that.”

Judy looked up at you, a question in her eyes. “You’re okay, right?”

The question caught you off guard, and you forced another smile, nodding. “Of course, baby. I’m just a little tired from work.”

“Okay,” she said simply, her worry fading as Anna wriggled free from your arms and ran back toward the living room. Judy followed close behind, but not before giving you another quick hug.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Bradley came up behind you, his voice low. “You’re tense.”

You glanced at him, trying to play it off. “I’m fine. Just tired, like I told Judy.”

He gave you a look—one of those knowing looks that made it clear he wasn’t buying a word of it. “You’re faking it for them. I get it. But don’t do that with me.”

You sighed, rubbing at the back of your neck. “I just... it’s been a long day, Roo. Can we not do this right now?”

Bradley’s gaze softened at the use of his nickname. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Okay,” he said gently. “But we’re talking later. You know that, right?”

You nodded reluctantly, stepping away to join the girls in the living room. Your heart ached a little as you watched them laugh and play, their innocence filling the space while the weight of everything else lingered just beneath the surface.

Later in the evening, when the girls were distracted with a cartoon and Theo was dozing in his playpen, you found a moment with Bradley in the kitchen. He was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, sipping from a glass of water.

You stepped closer, lowering your voice to avoid the kids overhearing. “So… about those orders,” you began, keeping your tone casual but feeling your chest tighten.

Bradley set his glass down, his expression shifting slightly. “What about them?”

“Are they finalized? I mean, do you have to leave right after New Year’s, or is there some wiggle room?” You tried to sound neutral, but your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie betrayed your nerves.

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “They’re pretty firm,” he said after a beat. “It’s just a short thing. Five days, tops. Test some equipment, then I’m back here.”

You searched his face for reassurance, but something in his tone made your stomach twist. “And this just came in last night? You told me you got the email while I was at work, but… does it really have to be that soon?”

Bradley’s jaw tightened, and he pushed off the counter to stand closer to you. “Yeah, it does. They want it handled right away. I wouldn’t leave if it wasn’t important.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the counter behind you. “It’s just… after everything we talked about last night, this feels sudden. Like we’re jumping into something before we’ve even had time to catch our breath.”

“I get that,” he said softly, his voice low. “I hate the timing, too. But it’s not like I have a choice.”

You nodded slowly, the tension in your chest still there but tempered by the sincerity in his voice. “Alright,” you said, though the word felt heavy. “If you say it’s necessary, I’ll trust you.”

He reached for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this. I know it’s a lot, but I promise, it’ll be fine. We’ll get through it, just like we always do.”

You squeezed his hand back, offering a small smile even as doubt lingered at the edges of your mind. “I hope so, Roo. I really do.”

Bradley rubbed the back of his neck and let out a breath. “I think I’m gonna go for a run,” he said abruptly, setting his water glass down on the counter.

You blinked at him, surprised. “A run? Right now?”

“Yeah,” he said, avoiding your eyes as he stretched his arms. “Just need to clear my head a bit.”

It wasn’t like him to go for a late-night run, and the excuse seemed thin, but you didn’t push. “Okay,” you said cautiously, tilting your head. “You sure everything’s alright?”

“Yeah,” he said too quickly. “I’ll be back in an hour or so. Don’t wait up.”

Before you could say anything else, he was out the door, leaving you standing in the kitchen, unease gnawing at your stomach.

The cold night air hit Bradley’s face as he jogged down the quiet street. His legs moved automatically, the familiar rhythm doing little to ease the weight in his chest. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out mid-stride, scrolling through his contacts before dialling Phoenix.

She picked up after a couple of rings. “Bradshaw, what’s up?”

He slowed to a brisk walk, his breath visible in the cool air. “I need to talk to someone.”

Her tone immediately shifted. “What’s going on? You sound off.”

Bradley hesitated, glancing up at the stars above him. “I lied to her, Phoenix. About the orders. I told her it’s official and I have to leave right after New Year’s, but it’s not. Not really.”

There was silence on the other end for a moment before she let out a sigh. “Bradley… why would you do that?”

“I don’t know!” he said, his frustration slipping into his voice. “I panicked. I know she doesn’t want to move again, not so soon. And she’s been exhausted with work and the kids. I just… I couldn’t tell her the truth, not after everything we talked about last night.”

Phoenix was quiet for a moment. “So what’s the plan? You can’t keep this up forever. She’s gonna find out.”

“I know,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll tell her eventually, but right now… I just needed to get out of the house. I couldn’t sit there and keep lying to her face.”

“Bradley,” she said, her voice firm but kind, “you’re making this harder on yourself. You need to come clean before this blows up in your face.”

He let out a heavy sigh, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “Yeah, I know. I just… I hate disappointing her, Nat. She’s been through so much with me, and I keep dragging her into this Navy life, uprooting everything every few months. She deserves better.”

“You’re not giving her the chance to handle it,” Phoenix said gently. “She’s stronger than you think, Bradshaw. But you have to be honest with her, or this is gonna end badly.”

Bradley nodded to himself, even though she couldn’t see him. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Good,” she said. “And call me if you need backup. You know I’m here for you.”

“Thanks, Nat,” he said, a hint of gratitude in his voice. “I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Bradshaw. Now go finish your run and think about how you’re gonna fix this.”

He ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket, his feet picking up their pace again. The truth weighed heavily on him, but he knew Phoenix was right. He couldn’t keep this up much longer.

Bradley kept running for another hour, pounding the pavement beneath his feet as the chill in the air seeped through his clothes. Each stride felt like an attempt to outrun his guilt, but no matter how far he went, it lingered in his chest. His thoughts spiralled back to you, the look in your eyes earlier, and the way his lies felt heavier with every word he spoke.

The quiet streets of your neighbourhood were illuminated by scattered streetlights. Occasionally, the sound of his rhythmic breathing and footsteps was interrupted by a barking dog or the rustle of leaves. He picked up his pace, pushing himself harder, as if the physical exertion could bring clarity.

Finally, after an hour of circling the area, his body began to ache, and he slowed to a jog, then a walk. Bradley tugged his phone out of his pocket, glancing at the time. 10:47 PM. The house would be quiet by now.

When he stepped through the front door, the warmth of the home enveloped him, contrasting sharply with the night’s chill. He kicked off his sneakers quietly, leaving them by the door before padding into the dimly lit living room. Everything was still, and he immediately felt the familiar peace of home settle over him, though it was tinged with unease.

He made his way upstairs, his movements deliberate to avoid creaking the wooden steps. First, he peeked into Theo’s room. The baby was sound asleep in his crib, one tiny fist curled next to his cheek, his chest rising and falling softly. Bradley adjusted the blanket draped over him, a small smile tugging at his lips despite everything.

Next, he checked Anna’s room. She was sprawled across her bed, her blankie tangled around her legs, and her teddy bear clutched tightly against her chest. Bradley carefully tucked the blanket back over her, brushing a stray curl from her face. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake, mumbling something incoherent before settling again.

Finally, he opened Judy’s door just enough to see her. She was curled up under her comforter, her head resting on the pillow, her hair fanned out around her. The bucket from earlier sat untouched beside her bed, something he forgot to do. Her soft breathing reassured him that her fever seemed to have finally broken.

Satisfied that all the kids were okay, Bradley quietly shut her door and made his way to your shared room. The faint glow of your laptop illuminated the space as you sat cross-legged on the bed, engrossed in whatever you were working on. You were dressed in nothing but an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, your hair pulled into a loose bun.

You looked up when you heard him enter, your eyes meeting his. “Hey,” you said softly, glancing at the clock. “You were gone for a while.”

“Needed to clear my head,” he replied, his voice just as quiet. He moved toward the dresser, grabbing a clean shirt. “How’s work?”

“Fine,” you answered, your tone neutral as you looked back at your laptop. “Just finishing up some calculations for tomorrow.”

Bradley sat on the edge of the bed, the weight of the silence pressing down on him. He glanced at you as you tapped away on your laptop, your focus seemingly elsewhere, though he could sense the undercurrent of tension between you. Running a hand through his damp hair, he let out a sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“When did we get so complicated?” he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You paused, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Turning to face him, you raised an eyebrow, clearly taken off guard by his question. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, looking down at his hands. “I just feel like… like I keep screwing up. Like I don’t know how to make things easier for you—for us.”

Your gaze softened for a moment before you looked away, sighing softly. “Bradley, we’ve had a lot on our plate lately. Between the kids, your job, my job… it’s not exactly easy.”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice tinged with frustration. “But it feels like every time I try to do the right thing, I end up making it worse. I hate feeling like I’m letting you down.”

You leaned back against the headboard, closing your laptop. “You’re not letting me down,” you said gently, though your voice carried an edge of exhaustion. “I just wish we could have a little stability for once. For the kids, for us. Moving again so soon… it’s a lot, Bradley. It’s not just about the logistics—it’s everything.”

He nodded, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from blurting out the truth about his orders. The guilt was suffocating, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell you. Not yet.

“I’m trying,” he said finally, his voice thick.

“I know,” you replied, your tone softening again. “But sometimes it feels like we’re trying to solve different problems, and we’re not even on the same page.”

That cut deeper than he expected, and he could only nod, his throat tightening. He wanted to tell you everything, to come clean about the lies and the guilt eating away at him, but the words refused to come. Instead, he reached out, placing a hand lightly on your knee.

“I love you,” he said, his voice earnest. “Even when I screw up, even when things are complicated—I love you.”

You placed your hand over his, giving it a small squeeze. “I know you do, Bradley. I love you too.”

You reached for Bradley's hand, tugging him gently until he slid down onto the bed beside you. Without a word, you shifted, pulling him down flat on his back as you hovered above him. His eyes searched yours, the weight of his emotions evident in their warm brown depths.

Before he could say anything, you leaned down and kissed him, deeply and passionately, pouring every bit of love and frustration into the moment. His hands came up to cradle your face, holding you close as he kissed you back with equal intensity.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together, both of you breathing heavily. You gave him a small, teasing smile, brushing a stray curl from his forehead.

“You chose me, Bradley,” you murmured, your voice soft but steady. “You chose to stop and help a complete stranger on the side of the road when her car broke down, even though she had a screaming four-month-old in the back seat.”

His lips curved into a small smile as he listened, his hands sliding down to rest on your waist.

“And then,” you continued, your tone turning playful, “you saw me again at the bar, and you still decided to ask me out, even though I had spit-up on my shirt and probably looked like I hadn’t slept in a week.”

Bradley chuckled at that, his fingers tightening gently on your sides.

“You chose me,” you said again, your voice softening as you looked down at him. “Even though I’ve screwed up plenty of times. Even though I came with a whole lot of baggage. And somehow, you still make me feel like I’m worth it.”

His smile faltered, and his gaze softened, guilt flickering in his expression. “You are worth it,” he said firmly. “Every bit of it. You and the kids are my whole world, Y/N.”

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his once more before pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. “So stop acting like you’re the only one who screws up. We’re in this together, okay? Even when it’s messy. Even when it’s complicated.”

Bradley nodded, his hands sliding up to your back, holding you close. “Okay,” he whispered.

Bradley grinned up at you, his hands sliding to rest on your hips as you straddled him. “You know,” he said, his voice light and teasing, “I don’t think either of us has been this eager in… ages.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head as you smirked down at him. “Oh? And whose fault is that, Roo?”

He chuckled, his thumb brushing against your waist. “Probably mine. Between deployments, kids, and life, I guess I’ve been slacking in the ‘sweep-you-off-your-feet’ department.”

You leaned down, your lips brushing his in a teasing kiss. “Hmm, maybe just a little,” you teased, pulling back with a playful glint in your eye. “But let’s be honest—when was the last time we had some proper alone time… you know, when I was ovulating?”

Bradley’s brows shot up, and a sly grin spread across his face. “Oh, you’re keeping track now? I didn’t know this was a strategic operation.”

You laughed, poking his chest lightly. “Strategic? Please. You know exactly what I mean. The stars aligning, the timing being right, the kids actually staying asleep…”

He groaned dramatically, dropping his head back against the pillow. “So, what you’re saying is, it’s been forever since we’ve had a shot at this under ideal conditions.”

“Exactly,” you replied with mock seriousness, folding your arms as if to make your point. “And guess what? I am ovulating right now, and we’re here, alone… at least for the moment.”

Bradley’s hands tightened on your hips, his grin softening into something more tender. “Well, then,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, “I guess it’d be a shame to waste this rare alignment of the universe.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped. “Smooth, Bradshaw. Very smooth.”

He leaned up, capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss, his hands pulling you closer. “I might be smooth,” he murmured against your lips, “but you love me anyway.”

You smiled, threading your fingers through his hair. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you teased, your voice softer now, the playful mood shifting into something more intimate.

Bradley’s eyes met yours, filled with warmth and love. “And you’re lucky I’m head over heels for you. Even when you’re giving me hell,” he said with a grin.

“Even when I’m giving you hell?” you repeated with mock offense, though your smile gave you away.

“Especially then,” he replied, pulling you down into another kiss.

Bradley smirked, his hands sliding up your sides as he tilted his head back against the pillow. “So, let me get this straight,” he began, his voice dripping with playful mockery. “You’re saying you’ve been walking around here, tracking your ovulation like it’s some top-secret NASA mission, and I’m just now finding out?”

You laughed, leaning closer, your hands braced on either side of his chest. “I didn’t think it was relevant to bring up until now,” you quipped. “You’ve been a little… distracted, Roo.”

“Oh, I’m distracted?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the one who has apparently been plotting a perfectly-timed rendezvous and didn’t clue me in.”

“Plotting?” You gasped in faux outrage, sitting up and folding your arms. “It’s not plotting—it’s practicality! You’re lucky I’m even trying to be efficient here, considering how often you’re either deployed or running off to fix the next crisis.”

Bradley chuckled, his hands finding your hips and pulling you back down toward him. “Efficient, huh? God, I love when you talk sexy like that,” he teased, a wicked grin playing on his lips.

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide your smile. “I’m being serious, Bradley!”

“Oh, I know you are,” he replied, his voice turning low and mock-serious to match yours. “You’re dead serious. I mean, what’s more romantic than hearing, ‘Hey, Roo, I’m ovulating—let’s get to it.’”

You smacked his chest lightly, unable to suppress your laughter. “You’re such a jerk!”

“But you love me,” he countered smugly, leaning up to nip playfully at your jawline.

“Do I?” you teased, feigning doubt.

“You do,” he said confidently, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. “Because no one else could handle your spreadsheets and star charts for… whatever science-y ovulation data you’ve got going on over there.”

You laughed harder, shoving at his shoulder. “Oh, shut up, Bradshaw. It’s not that complicated!”

He grinned, pulling you flush against him as he buried his face in your neck, his laughter muffled against your skin. “Sure it’s not,” he teased. “But hey, since the universe apparently aligned for this moment, I’m not about to waste it.”

Bradley's teasing grin softened as his hands slid beneath the hem of your hoodie, his touch warm against your skin. “You know,” he murmured, his voice low, “I’m starting to think you’re overdressed for this conversation.”

You let out a soft laugh, arching a brow at him. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, his fingers brushing over your sides as he eased the hoodie up. “And since I’m already doing all the hard work, the least you can do is cooperate.”

“Oh, the hard work, huh?” you teased, lifting your arms so he could pull the hoodie over your head.

He tossed it aside with an exaggerated flourish, his eyes trailing over you with a mix of warmth and hunger. “See? Now this is much better.”

You rolled your eyes, a smirk tugging at your lips as your hands moved to the hem of his shirt. “Your turn, Bradshaw. Fair’s fair.”

He raised his arms obligingly, letting you tug his shirt off and revealing his toned chest. “There. Happy?”

“Getting there,” you teased, your hands sliding over his shoulders and down his chest, fingers tracing familiar lines and scars.

Bradley’s grin widened as he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “You’re being awfully slow tonight,” he murmured. “Not that I’m complaining… but I thought you were all about efficiency.”

“Efficient and thorough,” you countered, sliding your hands to the waistband of his sweatpants and tugging them down just enough to tease him.

He groaned, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you closer. “You’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, his voice low and husky.

“Not before I’m done with you,” you teased, leaning in to kiss him, slow and deep, as the rest of your clothes slowly joined the growing pile on the floor.

Bradley’s breaths grew heavier as his hands roamed over your body, his lips following wherever his fingers traced. His kisses were deliberate, slow yet urgent, as though he was savouring every inch of you while unable to get enough.

“God, you’re impossible,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and rough with need. “I swear, you make me feel like I’m drunk every time I touch you.”

Your laughter was soft, teasing, as your fingers tangled in his hair. “Drunk on what?” you asked playfully, your voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze dark and hazy, filled with nothing but you. “Drunk on you,” he admitted, his tone utterly serious. His lips trailed down your neck, grazing your collarbone before he found his way lower. “On everything—your body, your mind, the way you feel, the way you sound…”

You gasped as his hands gripped your thighs, his touch firm yet reverent as he settled between them. “Bradley…”

He looked up at you, his lips brushing against your inner thigh. “Drunk on your pussy,” he murmured, his words sending shivers through you. His hands slid up your sides, grounding you and electrifying you all at once. “You do something to me, Y/N. Something I can’t ever get enough of.”

You could only whimper in response, the tension in the room palpable as his lips began to explore, his movements languid and worshipful, as though he wanted to memorize every reaction, every sound you made.

And as the night deepened, it was clear—Bradley was entirely lost in you, intoxicated in the best way possible. Hopefully tomorrow he'll get the urge to tell you.

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