#i've brought it up before but i really feel such a deep sadness that i didn't grow up learning irish at school

[atrwriting]

comfort — aegon x fem!reader

did anyone else fall victim to season 2 completely changing your viewpoint on aegon? i used to fucking hate this guy. honestly i still hate season 1 aegon. i almost didn't post this because i hate him soooo much. i've chosen to separate season 1 and season 2 aegon because the show and book are works of fiction — but please read with caution. at the end of the day, this is still aegon — and he is still a royal asshole and should very much be locked up in jail.

but like why did season two make me feel bad and want to comfort this fucker like what the fuck

as always, warnings: aegon is a fucking warning, smuuut, aegon has a praise kink, oral sex, p in v sex, aegon is a bit of a meaniehead in this, alcoholism, my own sick and twisted self indulgence because i like swear i could fix him

i refuse to fucking edit and im only slightly sorry

____

“i never wanted to be king..." he mumbled, drinking his wine. "to keep them safe... and for what? for what!?"

your heart fell at his words. it split and shattered into a million pieces, but slowly. the pain was so slow. it froze you — held you in its grasp so the only thing you could do was stare at the king, who sank slowly into his own despair — and also his chair.

you swallowed — unsure of how to proceed.

“more wine, your grace?” you asked, hoping to appear cheerful.

with his back turned, his own answer was his outstretched hand with his goblet in his grasp.

your pour was hefty.

he sighed before he brought his chalice to his lips, taking two gulps of the deep plum liquid. you didn’t want to linger — for you knew the king enjoyed his solitude or the company of a young lady.

you wanted to make haste before he remembered either of the two.

“is there anything else i can do for you, my king?” you asked. “i can fetch you something to eat —“

“no,” he spoke. “i’m not hungry. — sit with me. pour yourself a glass.”

your eyes widened as your clutched the wine. sit — with the king? and share wine? you had never heard of such a thing. you had heard of his crude, and horrible behavior — but not this. definitely not this.

but what else were you to do but obey? nothing. absolutely nothing. you had no choice.

you pulled out the chair, and aegon pulled another glass toward his. the king... retrieved you a glass? you had set the wine down on the table so you could pull your chair out with shaking hands, hoping to keep them steady. aegon, the king, had taken it upon himself to not only get you your own chalice, but also pour wine for you.

gods, you thought. what have i found myself in?

“thank you, my king,” you spoke, settling into your seat. “would it please your grace to drink in silence?”

he tapped his fingers on the top of the table. you could not meet his eyes, for fear of upsetting him. you weren’t sure if you could feel his eyes on you, but you did not want to make the first move.

“the servant girls like you — they do not look at me,” he spoke, taking another swig of his wine. “due to my actions as a boy, no doubt. i must assure you — i am a man now. a king.”

“of course, your grace,” you answered. “we are very lucky to serve you and your family.”

“very lucky…” he scoffed, a sad smile on his face. he was not displeased with you — and you couldn’t place why, but you could tell it was not you. you surmised it was something else. “lucky? to work in this castle? when war brews closer every day?”

you swallowed thickly, unsure of how to proceed. you shouldn’t have. you really shouldn’t have — and you knew it, you could feel it in your bones — but a part of you also knew that it could do some good. maybe not a lot, but at least some. “we know that you would do anything to protect this castle — and the people inside of it, your grace. we are lucky.”

was it a lie? yes. none of the servants believed that they were safe, and those that did — they did not credit aegon. they might credit the webs alicent could weave, aemond’s dragon, or cole’s stones — but not aegon. definitely not aegon. not even aegon gave aegon, himself any credit, for he knew the truth. everyone knew the truth — but where would self pity get the king? where would his low self esteem place you and the small folk? nowhere. absolutely nowhere.

and that’s why you lied.

you lied through your fucking teeth.

you had to lie — for the good of the realm. for the good of the small folk. for your own good.

and what did he do? he laughed.

he fucking laughed.

you weren’t surprised — you knew that he was difficult to reason with, prone to expressions of raw, irrational emotion.

what you didn’t expect was that his laughs turned into tears.

you don’t know why — but you immediately stood.

sitbackdownsitbackdownsitbackdown, someone in your head chided. sitbackdownsitbackdownsitbackdown.

but you didn’t listen. you should’ve listened.

you stood and took a few steps towards the king.

thumpthumpthumpthumpthump.

your heart pounded in your ears, and soon you though you could feel it rise into your throat. you would’ve choked on it if you had waited any longer to do what you wanted to.

you reached for his hand — not really knowing what you would do if you had successfully intertwined your fingers with his. it didn’t matter — for aegon smacked your hand away. he snapped his head up to look at you, glaring.

he immediately stood from his seat, towering over you. his eyes were ablaze, consumed by anger and threats. his lips were thin in a snarl, having replaced his sadness with aggression.

“you dare touch the king?” he bit, holding you by the wrist.

you gasped as he yanked your arm, a strangled cry leaving your lips. “i wanted to offer comfort, your grace —“

“offer comfort?1” he spat once more, shaking his head in disbelief.

“yes, your grace,” you said softly. “only comfort.”

his eyes took a moment to soften, but when they did… you regretted coming into the room altogether — even if it was your job to serve him. you could have asked someone else. could've, could've, could've.

but then...

oh, then...

a bittersweet taste rested in your mouth once you saw regret, shame, and guilt all swirl within aegon’s purple irises. all three. like three flames, all from one dragon — consuming the very thing before it until there was nothing left. his eyes, once filled with glee, then tears, and then anger, and now this? this? — you didn’t know how to proceed, or if you should at all.

he was the king — but at the end of the day, at the end of it all — he was just a young man.

just a young man.

“i am sorry, your grace,” you whispered, not daring to move. “it won’t — it won’t happen —“

“i am sorry,” he immediately blurted out.

your eyes snapped up to meet his. you seemed to be as surprised to hear his apology as he was to find himself saying it.

he dropped your arm.

“you were kind to me…” he spoke, trailing off — seemingly trying to find the words. he was looking down at you, studying your expression.

you feared the mix of emotions were present on your face, and you were worried how that would affect a safe exit from this situation. “i should not have reached for you, my king, and for that i am —“

“i shouldn’t have lashed out at you,” he interrupted you. “no one has ever…”

he didn’t finish. he couldn’t finish, you realized. and by the look on his face — he knew he couldn’t finish that sentence either.

“it’s alright,” you spoke, and meant it. “i just wanted you to know — you weren’t alone, your grace.”

he didn’t speak. he just… slowly nodded in acknowledgment and in thanks.

you repeated the gesture, curtsied, and left the room.

you did not expect to see the king again — but you also did not ever expect to be called to his chambers in the late hours of the evening.

you grew fearful and weary — what did he want with you? he had never shown interest in you, especially not since the incident a week prior. you avoided him like the stranger, and he most likely was glad for it — or so you thought.

when you entered his chamber, you found him in his night shirt and riding leathers. he was standing in the middle of the room, only illuminated by the burning hearth. the red and orange flames accented the bags under his eyes, and his teeth that were stained with wine.

“you’ve been avoiding me,” he accused suddenly.

that was all he said. small folk like yourself were not trained to… deal with accusations such as that. he was not an equal — he was the fucking king.

“i was embarrassed that i had forgotten my place,” you spoke, curtsying. “my apologies, your grace.”

“your apologies?!” he bit, tossing the empty chalice of wine onto the floor. he stalked towards you with purpose, not stopping until he was inches from your face. “apologies? what good are they if you’ve been in my goddamn head for a week?!”

he was seething then — beyond recognition. consumed by anger, unable to bring himself back to level. his skin was of a flush that suggested emotion — frustration, distrust, betrayal. his eyes, though purple, were bloodshot red. with each word he shouted, spit spewed from his lips and collected at the corners of his mouth.

and then you realized: the king wasn’t angry — he was hurt.

“what is bothering you?” you asked, ignoring his initial question while trying to keep your own resolve level.

“...what?” he demanded, confusion and anger now mixing together in his brow.

“your grace,” you began. “tell me what is wrong.”

he took a step back. his eyebrows knit together as if he didn’t recognize you — didn’t understand why you were here, who you were, or what you could want. distrust was the only thing at the forefront of his gaze, but you knew you had to break that barrier. you knew, you knew, you knew.

this time — he did not flinch when you reached for him. he did not flinch when you pressed a soft, open palm against the side of his tear-stained face. he did not flinch when you stroked your thumb on his cheekbone. he did not flinch when you placed your other hand on his other cheek, and pulled his face down to rest his forehead against yours.

“i will not avoid you again,” you whispered.

he didn’t reply, but you felt him relax against you. you entwined one of his hands with yours, and led him towards the bed.

you discarded your night robes, leaving you in your night shift. aegon watched in awe — and his jaw slightly fell open when you got on the bed, and stretched out your open arms to him.

“join me, my king?”

aegon couldn’t help himself. he glossy eyes raked over your body, barely hidden by your night shift. the cool night air of the castle caused your nipples to harden underneath the linen, leaving your breasts looking supple enough to taste. the outline of your waist and round hips were enough to make his cock stir in his leathers, but he found his hands beginning to shake. fucking delectable he found you. he may have taken off his pants, but it was not to fuck.

aegon, the king of the seven kingdoms, climbed onto the bed and rested on top of you. you wrapped your arms around his mid section as he nestled his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet smell. one of your hands began to tangle itself in his short, wavy locks — forcing aegon to relax in a way that flying, wine, or fucking could never do for him. a sigh of relief left past his lips — one that he didn’t know he was holding, nor one that he thought he was capable of releasing.

you kissed the side of his face, causing emotions to swell within his chest he never experienced before — was never prepared for. if his initial reaction wasn’t to freeze, he would’ve lashed out at you. called you names he didn’t mean. pushed you out of bed in a way he didn’t mean. and never speak to you again in a way he didn’t mean. thankfully, he froze. he froze for long enough that he convinced himself that he could relish in this sweet feeling — even if only for a short while.

“you are so sweet,” he whispered, before drifting off to sleep.

you fell asleep for a short while later, letting yourself enjoy the weight of the prince above you. it calmed a certain anxiety in your chest, and you were selfish with it — hoping to take whatever the king would give.

you felt him stirring on top of you after some time — well into the night, and well into where only hot coals rested in the hearth at the center of the room. they glowed red, but there was not enough heat nor light to reach you and aegon. you held him tighter for warmth, pulling the blanket up over the two of you in the cold darkness.

“surprised you haven’t told me i’m crushing you yet,” he spoke into your neck, breath hot against your skin.

a small laugh died in your throat. “i’m very comfortable, my king.”

you began to stroke the hair at the nape of his neck, twirling the curls in between your fingers. he hummed at the sensation, obviously enjoying it. one of his hands was dragged up the length from the top of your thigh, to your breast. the fabric of your linen pulled with his hand, but it stopped when his hand found the curve of your breast.

aegon stared at the sweet, delectable looking nipple that was poking through the linen due to the night chill. he held the weight of your breast in his palm, and used his thumb to draw circles on the nub. the roughness of the linen, coupled with the cool sensitivity of your bud, and the rising tension in the air made warmth spread throughout your body. aegon, well… aegon watched you watch his hand. he watched for any sign of displeasure — because he would’ve withdrew. he would’ve withdrew if you did not look as though you would enjoy it if he continued.

“tell me to stop if you wish,” his voice was soft and cautious in the lack of light as he played with your nipple. he would’ve stopped, he so would’ve — but he was hoping so desperately that you would let him wrap his lips around your sensitive nub and suckle, possibly with his other hand between your thighs as he played with your supple folds. “if you tell me to stop, i will stop.”

“…i don’t want you to stop,” you whispered into the darkness, no longer trapped in fear, shyness, or insecurity.

something in aegon’s chest leapt.

through his pink lips, his tongue poked through and wrapped around your sensitive nipple through your night shift. the taste of linen was foreign and strange, but aegon craved to see the look on your face when you felt the combination of the cool air, his warm, wet mouth, and the linen all working together to create the most delicious feeling of friction you had ever felt on such a sensitive area.

and by the look on your face — aegon was right.

aegon grew confident — bold even. selfish. he lightly bit the sensitive nub, causing a sharp intake of breath from you. he chuckled against you — pleased with your frustration in response to his teasing.

“a good king would show equal attention to both breasts, wouldn’t he?” he asked, in between kisses to your nipple. “can i take off your shift and show you?”

“please,” you whispered, shivering with chill and pleasure.

though your shift was opaque and did not leave much to the imagination, aegon could not believe his eyes when he took of your shift. he would burn all shifts if he could — therefore barring you from every covering up your beautiful body. your beautiful, perfect skin caught what light the fire could spare and aegon watched as goosebumps rose on your skin with every pass of his hand. you watched him as he stared at every bit of your front, letting his hands run up and down your body.

"i have never felt anything so soft," he spoke, before leaning his head forward.

he couldn't help himself. how could he? he was the fucking king. he didn't have to waste time with pleasantries. he had your consent, and he had your willingness, and he had the most beautiful breasts he had ever seen right before his eyes. he was greedy as he suckled at your breast; pulling and tugging the sensitive nub between his lips and rolling it. he did the same with your other breast, but with his hand. he could play with your breasts all night long if you let him, and he considered asking.

but then... oh, then... then he smelled the faint sweet aroma of your slick building and trying to escape from your lustrous folds in between your thighs.

that had never happened... with a woman he hadn't paid...

your nipple popped from his mouth, and now he played with both nipples in between his thumb and index fingers. you gasped at the sensation — so sensitive. you glanced down at aegon through your thick lashes and flushed cheeks.

he was peacefully smiling — while you were on the cusp of insanity.

"i feel as though i have been neglecting other parts of you," he spoke with a knowing smile. his beautiful eyes were no longer red and teary, but bright and hopeful. "as a good king, will you let me make it up to you?"

"yes," you gasped, trying to fight the urge to rock your hips into him. "please, your grace."

he wasted no time.

he slid down the length of your abdomen and threw your legs over his shoulders. his breath was hot and heavy on your cunt, making you shiver at the juxtaposition of the cool night air. you could hear him humming — pleased — below you as he spread your wet lips. aegon watched as the small flames caught the wetness and let ghosts of past flames dance on your more precious spot.

he couldn't help himself. he licked up the length of your slit.

you immediately threw your head back, gasping. your fingers fisted the silk sheets of aegon's bed, hoping to ground yourself.

you heard a scoff from below you before aegon grabbed one of your hands, and put it on his head. you cooed in response — pleased — before tanging your fingers throughout his strands. he hummed in approval against your clit, making you shiver once more.

"you taste so sweet," he whispered. "like nectar."

he spread your folds before he wrapped his lips around your most sensitive bud, sucking on it. two of his fingers found your leaking hole and pressed in slowly, nudging at the inner wall. your hips were writhing at this point as your head filled with all sorts of nonsense. heat and pleasure and smoke and wine — they curled in your psyche like beings in the water, playing together. aegon was relentless with how he lapped up your juices, greedy for more and more.

he couldn't stop. he wouldn't stop. the way your fingers curled on his scalp — scratching and soothing — was all of the encouragement he needed to keep going. he let your writhing hips work on his face. a good king would never deny a lady the extra friction she needed to reach her peak. your peak. all he wanted to do was bring you to your peak so he could see the fucked out look on your face. he wanted it so badly he began to dig his own his against the silk sheets, cock straining to find any sort of relief. he was beginning to grow feverish, which only inspired him to work a your faster and messier. he wanted your climax. he had earned your climax.

"'m so close," you whined. "'m so close, my king. please don't stop... please..."

he found himself pushing a third finger in, demanding your orgasm from you. that orgasm was no longer yours — but something he could give and also take from you. you would experience it, but it would be his. his win. his glory. his trophy.

and when your hips snapped up... he knew he had you.

he slammed your hips down onto the bed to keep you from moving — keep you from moving away from his tongue. his tongue was relentless in the way it continued its work on your clit as you came. you shoved your head into the pillow as all of your muscles went taut, letting wave after wave after wave after wave crash over you and pull you under. you were gasping for air, twisting and turnin away from aegon as the sensitivity became so much. too much. bittersweet, making you push him away but wanting to pull him towards you.

he ripped himself from you when he was finished, your juices flowing still caught on his chin. through your post-orgasm haze and half closed eyes, you watched him through your half-closed eyelids. there, aegon stood over you, fisting his cock over your body.

"inside me, your grace," you whispered. "please."

that was all aegon needed. with one swoop, his cock had bested the threshold of your cunt. his lips found one of your breasts, suckling on the nipple, as he began thrusting his length inside of you.

your hands found the back of his head, pulling at the roots of his hair. your small gasps were music to his ears as he rocked his hips against yours, chasing his high.

"you're so good, aegon..." you whined at the feeling of aegon taking every sensitive area for his own. "so sweet..."

his heart strings were pulling at her words as a flush reached his cheeks. he was not embarrassed, no — he was encouraged. a woman — a perfect, beautiful, and supple woman lay before him and begged for his touch. for his caress. for the pleasure he could bring her — the both of them. she held him so close to her breast as he fucked his cock into her. the intimacy of the position had awakened something carnal in him; something sick and twisted that wanted more, and more, and more.

"that's it... just like that..." you spoke. "take what you need, my sweet. you're so good..."

his hips were beginning to stir at your words, foreign to his ears. he was rutting into you like an animal now at your praise, sure to leave bruises on your breasts by the sunrise.

"all yours..."

fuck. fuck. fuck.

he didn't know what to do.

it had never crept up on him so fast.

a blush was rising to his cheeks he had not known since his first orgasm. an exasperated gasp was rising and falling in his throat, ready to escape and fill the room.

"so good for me," were your final words.

aegon came with a sob. a fucking sob. he snapped his hips twice into your sopping wet cunt before his balls tightened, tightened, and tightened — shooting whatever he could into you. thick, hot, white ropes decorated the inside of your cunt in the most pathetic and desperate manner. his hips continued to rut his spend into you, desperate for his release. you could hear his whines and cries in your ear, working himself through his own orgasm as your sweet words of praise guided him to where he needed to be.

"that's it, sweetheart," you spoke against his ear, causing him to shiver. "you're just so good for me, my king."

all he needed was a bit of comfort.

____

comments and critiques plz :P <3 xox - L

[wands-natsthing]

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐲 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬

HEYYYY HIII HELLOOOO long time I KNOW IM SORRY LSKDKD AND I KNOW I SAID THE WEEKEND BUT I GOT SICK

buttt just to give a lil info, since it has been so long since I updated I put the last bit of chapter 2 at the beginning of this just as a refresher I guess!! And more overall story info (R=23) (W=30) (N=34)

I also wrote kinda like a Wanda’s POV of what happened in the janitors closet so let me know if you want that!!

Feedback is more than welcome!! I love reading all your comments they make me feel like my writing isn’t shit 🤓 and they make me smile :)) I also tried to make this as open as possible this is for everybody!! (I hope I worded that right) I mean as in there rlly no descriptions of r

Warnings: I really don’t think there are any besides maybe it starts to seem a little homewreckery BUT ITS NOT I PROMISE!!

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: You guys come out the closet and have lunch idk

"Who's the woman standing outside the door with you?" you asked.

You can tell Wanda hadn't been expecting your question by the way her eyes widened.

"Oh um, that's Natasha, After you graduated I started teaching a co-taught English class and well she's the co-teacher." She paused before confirming the suspicion you had earlier. 

"She's also my wife…" 

Your heart dropped. 

“Your- your wife…You got married? You ask with a tremble in your voice. 

“Yeah, I did um just a few years ago…” 

“Oh- that's uh, that's cool. Um, congratulations.” 

Wanda’s smile faltered slightly as she sensed the mix of emotions swirling inside you. The joy in her eyes seemed to dim ever so slightly, replaced by a hint of concern.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” she said quietly, her voice softening. "Maybe we could talk more about everything over Lunch?"

Your eyes snapped up at that. The thought of having lunch with her again all these years later was just too enticing to pass up, no matter how many messing feelings it brought again.

"Lunch? Are you- are you sure?" You asked with a hopeful smile on your face.

"Yes, I'm more than sure. I am positive." She reassured you with a gentle touch of her hand running up and down your forearm.

"Okay, then yes I would love to."

"great! What about this weekend at 1:00 at the cafe we saw each other last week? (a/n: Its Wednesday)

"That's perfect!"

"Okay good then it's a date." She said scrunching her nose up in a way that always made your heart melt.

Date.

"I am so sorry, but I better get back, can't leave Natasha by herself for too long with all those parents and kids out there, But I can't wait for our lunch date!"

Date. There goes that word again.

“Yes, of course, I’m sorry for keeping you for so long,” you replied, trying to shake off the rush of emotions swirling in your mind.

Wanda smiled warmly, as if she could sense the turmoil within you. “No need to apologize. It’s nice to catch up, I've missed you."

You both stood there for a moment, staring into each other's eyes. The bustling sounds from the school faded slightly as you locked eyes.

“Alright, I better get going,” she said after a pause, and you could hear the softer undertones of sadness in her voice. “But I’ll see you this weekend, okay?”

“Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it,” you replied, offering her a genuine smile.

Wanda gave you one last look, her expression revealing a mix of excitement and a hint of uncertainty before she opened the door of the janitor's closet.

You took a deep breath, calming your racing heartbeat. You had so many thoughts swirling through your head but at the same time, you felt as if you couldn't think.

As you finally turned to head out back to your car, you felt a strange sense of hope take root inside you.

You couldn’t help but replay the moment in your mind, the surprise of learning she was married mixed with the thrill of the upcoming lunch. It was complicated, but one thing was clear: you wanted to explore this. No matter how much it might hurt in the end.

The rest of the week felt like an eternity. You replayed snippets of conversations you had shared over the years, moments of laughter, and even the unspoken feelings that had lingered in the air. Each thought made the anticipation for the weekend grow stronger.

Finally, Saturday arrived. You stood in front of your mirror, carefully selecting your outfit for lunch. The end of summer's warmth lingered in the air, but a hint of fall was beginning to whisper in the breeze. You chose a lightweight mustard-yellow sweater, perfect for the transition between seasons. Its soft knit hugged your figure comfortably.

For pants, you chose a pair of high-waisted, olive-green corduroy pants that offered both warmth and style. The slightly flared legs provided a retro vibe, making them an ideal choice for early autumn. On your feet, you wore your black Converse. Always a staple in your outfits.You topped everything off with a silver chain that went slightly past your collarbone and small gold hoops that reflected off the light.

Never understood the big deal about mixing silver and gold.

And a light spritz of your favorite fall-inspired perfume, with notes of vanilla and sandalwood, completed the look, a warm scent perfect for the season.

As the clock ticked closer to 1:00, doubts and anxiety started creeping in.

What if she doesn't show?

Is my outfit bad?

Does my breath smell? You make sure to brush your teeth one more time before leaving.

When you arrived at the cafe, a wave of shyness washed over you. You spotted Wanda almost immediately. She was sitting at a cozy table, her reddish auburn hair catching the sunlight, and you wondered how someone could look both familiar and new after all this time.

You exchanged hesitant glances. The soft murmur of conversations around you felt louder than usual, amplifying the butterflies in your stomach.

As you approached, her face lit up, the warmth of her smile easing your nerves.

 “You made it!” she exclaimed, standing up to greet you with an embrace that felt both comfortable and electrifying.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you replied, taking a seat across from her.

For a moment, the air was thick with unspoken words. Both of you are unsure what to say.

Fortunately, as if sensing the tension in the air, a waitress approached to take your order.

"I'll have a hot caramel latte and a turkey and cheese sandwich, please," Wanda said with a soft smile. You returned her smile, appreciating the familiarity of her order.

Both Wanda and the waitress turned to you, waiting to see what you'd chosen.

"I'll have the same, please. Thank you."

*****************************

You sipped your coffee, the warmth seeping into your hands, trying to ground yourself. Slowly but surely the conversation began to flow just like how it had all those years ago.

It was as if nothing had changed. 

As if neither had gone through drastic changes.

Yet, even as the conversation deepened, the thought of her marriage lingered at the back of your mind and the fact that they worked together. Soon within a day, they both would be your coworkers.

Curiosity nudged at you, and you found yourself leaning in.

“What’s it like? Teaching together, I mean? That must be… interesting.”

Just like in the janitor's closet, she was surprised by your sudden question.

Though she laughed softly, easing the tension. “It is, we balance each other out. She’s all about structure, while I tend to go with the flow. It makes for some creative lesson plans."

Though you were more so wondering if they shared any lunches like the two of you did; 

You'll take it.

Gathering up as much composure as possible you try to sound as "mature" as you possibly can. “Sounds like a great dynamic,” you replied, picturing the two of them in a classroom full of students, bouncing ideas off each other.

"Yeah it is, we make a great team." Wanda smiled, her eyes lighting up.

 "You know, I would love for the two of you to formally meet."

Your heart raced and your mind went blank.

What the fuck?

"Wait...I'm sorry, what?"

Wanda repeated herself slowly, not sure how to take your response.

“Oh, um, really? Your wife?” You stammered, shocked from the sudden/not so sudden twist in conversation. "I mean are you- are you sure that is a good idea? You know, me being me?"

Wanda smiled at you comfortingly. "Of course, it's a good idea, I mean besides you were gonna meet her soon anyway with school starting Monday-"

She stops mid-sentence playing with the necklace adorning her neck, a telltale sign 

She's nervous.

"Natasha also already knows exactly who you are to me." 

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

𝐨𝐨𝐩 🤓

𝐋𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐯!!

@nebthetautora @esposadejoyhuerta @w4ndsversew0nder

@skz-xii

[thedevilssinner]

I wanna share something because I don't want to suffer alone with my thoughts 😅

It's one of the scenarios where Tav knew Astarion before he was turned, but I've never read anything where it played out like this.

I apologize if something is wrong, English is not my native language.

Imagine that Tav is an elf and Astarion's lover before he was turned.

They're devastated when they finds out that Astarion has been killed. Mourning his death for a very long time and even moving away from Baldur's gate because everything reminds them too much of Astarion.

They know that all their happiness and love are gone. No one can fill the void that Astarion's death has brought them.

And now, two hundred years later, they stand on the beach, the sun beating down on their head, the burning Nautiloid at their back and before them... Astarion?

Only it's all wrong, his eyes are red and he's pale... paler than he's ever been.

Anger rises up in Tav. How dare some shapeshifter even take on Astarion's form after their beloved has been dead for 200 years?

And do a bad job at it!

Before the pale creature could even call for help again, Tav lunged at him with an angry cry, surprising the imitation and truckling it to the ground, dagger pressed to it's throat while they straddled his body. "How dare you?! How dare you to take his form?! Show me who you really are... now!" They command, surprising even themselves with their actions. But they couldn't stop... not when someone is using Astarion's face for gods knows what.

"Darling, there seems to have been a little misunderstanding. I don't know what you're talking about, and I'd appreciate it if you'd remove the dagger from my neck." The shapeshifter replies, his voice smooth and flirtatious and so unmistakably Astarion's that it hurts, and Tav presses the dagger a little harder against his neck.

"Shut up, shapeshifter!" Tav shouts at him, gaze anchored on that so familiar yet different face. "Where did you even get his face?! His voice?!" They ask angrily, the hand holding the dagger starting to shake. "You have no rights to pretend you're Astarion when he's... when he's gone. And to do it badly!" They continue, still angry but deep seated sadness linger behind.

The shapeshifter's eyes widen, opening his mouth as if he wants to say something, Tav noticing the fangs there and even worse idea that him being a shapeshifter, starts to creep into their mind.

"Tav?" Fake Astarion finally speaks, saying their name as if he were saying it for the first time in a long time, tasting it on his lips. The previous flirting gone. Instead he looked confused and as if just now he remembered something that was hidden in his mind. "You are them, aren't you? Gods, how could I forget... so beautiful." His red eyes glide along Tav's face, his voice nothing than a whisper. He's clearly lost in his head and Tav swallows thickly, realisation slowly grasping their mind but they fight against it.

"No, stop! Stop it! You can't be him. You can't... he's dead and your eyes are wrong. You're wrong." Tav says, their body starting to shake all over, threatening to cut him by mistake with the dagger still against his neck.

But now it's easy for 'the shapeshifter' to take Tav's wrist and move their hand away from his neck, easily wrenching the dagger from their fingers and tossing it aside. His lips stretch into a sad smile.

"That's what vampirism do to you, my love." Astarion says ever so softly, the deepest pain and sadness etched in his voice and Tav knows, feels it in their soul, that he is telling the truth.

So that's how Tav meets Astarion again, this encounter more painful and bittersweet than anything else.

They stay on the beach for a little while, Tav crying their heart out and Astarion trying to hold back his own tears. Both of them not expecting something like this to happen.

(Sorry if Astarion seems ooc.)

[nicholaschavezobsessed]

I Need a Doctor

dr. charlie mayhew x plus size f! reader

18+ MDNI

warnings: cursing, suggestive language, patient in coma, not proofread.

word count: 1,219

should i write a part 2?????? ( i have started on pt. 2 it was supposed to be finished today but i have to delay due to a pet emergency. but it will be out this week ! )

pt 2 here ^^

————————————————————————

As soon as you received the call, you hurried to the hospital, pushing past the nurses who were trying to stop you from storming into the patient's room. Your hand immediately catches hers as you fall beside her bed, tears streaming down your cheeks. All eyes were on you, a mess on the floor beside your sister's bed, the room falling silent except the beeping of the monitor.

After a few seconds past, seconds really feeling like minutes, you glance up at the curious eyes focused on you. You stand up, clearing your throat, wiping the mess of tears off your face. “How is my sister doing?” you mumble quietly as you look at the doctor.

He sighs softly to himself as he runs his hands through his hair and looks down at the ground to avoid your focused stare. "Since someone dumped her off here last night, she hasn't progressed. The bright side is that we were fortunate to reach her at that time, or otherwise." You glance at your sister's condition again, your body churning with rage as she lies there, unconscious.

You move from her side to stand in front of the doctor, your finger accusingly piercing his chest, glaring at him as his words reverberate in your mind. "What are you not doing more of? Is there nothing else you can do? Your tone a mixture of sadness and anger.

You are brought back down a level by his powerful hands gripping your shoulders. "Y/n, we are doing everything we can, I promise.” You were shaken out of your thoughts by his gentle yet firm tone. Your finger slides off his chest as you let out a sigh. “I'm sorry, but she's all I have. I can’t lose her too.” You shake your head as your hands rub against your face, pushing your glasses slightly up.

————————————————————————

An hour later

After gathering your composure, you find yourself sitting in the cafeteria, eyes bloodshot red as you sip the coffee you don’t even remember fixing. Ever since the hospital called you, everything has been a blur, you’re not even entirely sure how you managed to drive here. Your eyes flutter shut, thoughts erratically running through your head, wondering how this even happened. There’s no way your sister just fell and hit her head.

You're startled out of your thoughts by the sound coming from the chair opposite from you. The physician who was responsible for your sister's treatment ended up across from you. You eventually glance him over, no longer consumed by rage. His eyes are piercing brown, and his hair is unkempt and deep brown. He clasps his hands together in front of you, a smile spreading across his lips.

“How are you feeling y/n?” a solemn tone to his voice as his eyes never once leave yours. You look into the now-cold coffee in your hands and shrug your shoulders. “I don't know if my sister will ever come out of her coma. So, tell me, Dr. Mayhew, how do you think I’m feeling." You scowl at him, the sarcasm leaking from your lips.

He throws up his hands, a laugh escaping his lips. “Sorry, I was just checking on you…” he utters softly, causing you to slightly crack a smile. “My apologies, Dr. Mayhew” you mumble the last part as you inspect his name badge. “It’s just…. hard to know that the only person you have left is in that state.” You take a deep breath and run your unsteady fingers over your hair. With a comforting hand on your shoulder, he pulls his chair closer. His eyes are fixed on you as he fades off, "I understand, I wish there was more I could do for you." You swiftly shuffle in your chair, turning your body to his.

"Not to burden you with all of this." Holding a hand between you, he interrupts you. "Go ahead; this is just a part of the job." His tone of voice has a tinge of sincerity mixed with sternness. "Well, my brother, sister, and I were the only ones growing up. It's terrible that my brother no longer speaks with us, but that isn't the point. Despite our age difference, my sister and I have always been close. The idea of her leaving my life is unbearable; we've been through everything together, so I never really envisioned it. Was she perfect? God no. But she’s all I have, and I’ll be damned if she leaves me.” You finally glance up, his eyes locked on you, causing your cheeks to flush.

His hand squeezes your shoulder, a soft smile placed on his lips. “I promise you; she’ll be okay. I will do everything I can.”

————————————————————————

Days turn into weeks, your sister still not showing any sign of getting better, but no sign of getting worse either. Each day without fail, Dr. Mayhew was there to comfort you in the cafeteria, always turning your sad days into bearable ones.

"So, Dr. Mayhew, tell me." He swiftly cuts you off. "Please, call me Charlie." You clear your throat, your voice slightly wavering. "So Charlie, tell me, do you do this with all your patients loved ones?" He leans back in the chair, glancing you over carefully, paying extra attention to the way your pants cling to your thick thighs. "Only the ones I think deserve the consoling."

"Oh? So, you think I'm worthy, Charlie?" As you see him observing you, you draw closer to him, your breath catching in your throat. His gaze gently moves up your body, taking in your voluptuous, thick waist. "Yeah, I think your worthy." You stand up and tug at the cloth that is stuck to your thighs as the room seems suddenly heated. "Excuse me." Without even glancing back at him, you dash to the closest restroom. You try to cool yourself by splashing water on your face while resting your glasses on the sink's edge. Wondering what the fuck is wrong with you, your hands resting on your plump cheeks. "He's your sister's doctor; you can't think like this." You place your glasses back on, images of him hovering over you, white shirt unbuttoned, that gold cross necklace dangling from him. You push those thoughts in the back of your mind as your swing the door open and step out, the cool air hitting you suddenly blocked as you connect with someone's body.

"Fuck, I am so sorry." You scramble over your apologetic words before a hand comes to rest under your chin, lifting your head to look at them. "If you wanted to be against me, all you had to do was ask." Charlie, smirked down at you, watching the color rise to your cheeks.

You stammer, over your words before backing up, gently pressing yourself against the bathroom door. "Charlie...." With cautious approach, he places his hands on either side of your head to stop you from moving. He leans down, lips grazing against your cheeks, causing everything else to fade away leaving only him and you in this moment. "Say the word and I'll leave right now, because I won't be able to control myself around you if you keep looking at me like that." His words send shivers down your spine, your breathing quickening as you consider his words. Fuck it.

[kaliforniahigh]

Can I have something angsty,sad,fluffy,(smutty if you want) ?

Reader is on the thicker/chubby side (a few tummy rolls and thick thighs) and she thinks Noah is only with her to say he's been with a fat chick or it's some fetish thing. Reader doesn't understand how he can be attracted to someone like her. Normal 9-5 job, not rich, shitty apartment, shitty car...just getting though life and they met by chance. Maybe he liked that she treated him like a regular person even though she knew who he was, like a "yeah, I know who you are...so what 🙄😐🤷🏼‍♀️" kinda thing.

Not gunna lie the "never been with a big girl" shit has happened way more than I'd like...and honestly, I've been really hating my body lately 😔

Thank you so much for this request! I know it took me a long time to get to it and I'm so sorry about that! I hope you still like it <3

Warnings: reader is a little hard on herself, Noah also feels insecure. Reader is fatphobic towards herself :( Besides that, this is fluff.

WC: 5.9k (this is long and I haven't proofread it yet!)

My requests are currently closed!

Noah was back home in Virginia for a couple of weeks. He really just went because his best friend, Nicholas, had begged him to. There was nothing left for him in this place anymore, and there hasn't been for years.

Even though he had a lot of bitter memories from his time here, he really tried to enjoy the moments he spent with his old friends, reconnecting and telling each other how their lives changed over the years.

Right now, he was at a bonfire, sipping on his beer, despite the chill weather that fall brought along. He looked around and saw many faces he didn't recognize from years ago. To his left, Nicholas was socializing, and he thought about how things haven't changed that much after all. His friend was always better at this than him.

His eyes were fixed on you, like they have been a couple of times during the night. You were hard to miss, with your orange knit sweater and beanie keeping your head warm. He didn't remember seeing you before, if he had, he would surely remember it.

You talked animately with your hands, sporting smile on your face that made your eyes crinkle. If he could describe your aura, it would be warm and inviting, and he felt a pull towards you, suddenly having the urge to come up to you and stike up a conversation.

He held himself back, though, because you seemed very engrossed in the conversation you were having with your friends, and he didn't want to intrude or bother you.

"You're still brooding in the corner?", he was so distracted by you, that he didn't even notice Nicholas approaching him.

"I'm technically not in a corner", Noah pointed to the wall he was leaning against. Nicholas fixed him with a look.

"You should try and talk to a few people, at least this one time", Nicholas sounded like a mom scolding a child and it mildly irritated Noah.

"I will, once I finish this beer", he settled on saying, but deep down, they both knew that Noah would stay in this exact same spot for the rest of the night.

"Whatever, man. I'll talk to Josh over there, he said something about Eric cheating on Alex with their babysitter, and I wanna know all about that. Do you remember Alex from high school?", Noah scrambled his brain, and he could vaguely remember an Alex from high school.

"Is she the one who fell down the bleachers once?", he asked, the memory slowly coming back to him. He should feel bad that this embarrassing moment is what he remembers her by.

"That's exactly the one", Nicholas exclaimed, his hand slapping against Noah's chest. "Apparently her luck didn't get any better. I'll get the scoop and then I'll tell you on the way home", Noah smiled at his friend's antics and watched him walk away.

Averting his gaze back to the gathering happening around him, he found himself watching you again. He really needed to break his habit, otherwise you would think of him as a total creep. His stance and unapproachableness already didn't help him at all. He decided to go look around for something to eat, sure that he saw some snacks around here somewhere.

"He's leaving", your friend said beside you. You had to keep yourself from looking at him. Your friends have been annoying you for the last 15 minutes about the hot guy who apparently couldn't stop looking at you.

"Good, would you stop bothering me now?", you said.

"Y/N, you need to talk to him. Have you seen this man? He is hot and he's totally into you", Charlie said, an exciting tone on her voice.

"And you gathered all that from the few minutes we've been standing here?", you looked at her with a disbelieving look on your face.

"We've been here for at least forty minutes and he hasn't stopped looking at you!", she exclaimed, as if she had it all figured out.

"He could've been looking in the general direction, not at me", you reasoned, trying to forget the way his gaze felt on you. He couldn't have been looking at you out of all people from your group of friends.

"Y/N", Charlie sighed, the excitement vanishing from her features. "You need to stop sabotaging yourself. Why is it so impossible for a man to be interested in you?"

"I don't know, Charlie. I'm gonna go grab another drink, ok?", you did what you always do when someone brought this up in conversation, you left and didn't look back.

Is not that you thought it was impossible for this man to be interested in you, you just thought it was unlikely. You spotted him right when he walked in, his height made him impossible to ignore. And even though he was wearing a hoodie, you saw the tattoos all over his neck and hands, the latter making you incredibly flustered. You never thought you could find someone's hands so attractive.

Meanwhile, you came to this gathering right from work. Your hair was a mess and you had no option but to slap a beanie over it. Your outfit was nothing interesting, just a sweater to keep you warm in the changing weather. Thinking about it now, the color was even a little silly. Who wore orange sweaters?

You arrived at the table where the drinks were set, eyes surveying for something interesting and non-alcoholic, since you drove here. You were so engrossed with whatever was in front of you, that you almost - almost - didn't notice a presence beside you. Like you said, he was hard to miss.

"You, hmm... you need help finding something?" You heard a voice and you knew exactly who was next to you. You looked at him and the first thought that came to your mind was how tall he was compared to you.

He had to look down to meet your eyes and you had to crane your head back to look back at him.

"Oh, I'm just looking for something that's non-alcoholic", you answered him, with a little laugh, knowing that those beverages were hard to find in these places.

"Yeah, it's going to be a little difficult", he said, scratching the back of his neck and looking at the table set in front of you.

"It's ok, I kind of expected it. I'll just go look for dome water", you shrugged your shoulders.

"Wait, I think I saw some stuff in the fridge earlier. Do you want me to get it for you?", he pointed at the house behind the both of you. His eyes were hopeful, like he wanted to do this for you. You thought it was adorable the way he actually wanted you to have something else other than water, and you didn't have the heart to teel him no. So you said yes and saw him walk into the house.

While you waited, Noah was crossing his fingers that his friends had something in the fridge other than booze and stale food. Yes, he lied to you about seeing something in the fridge earlier, but he couldn't let you drink water at a party. He also didn't know where the urge to please you came from, but the words came out of his mouth before he could stop them.

He made his way to the fridge and opened it, and he immediatly spotted a few cans of Red Bull. They were of different colors - probably some tropical flavor - and he hoped you liked energy drinks, otherwise, he would look like a fool in front of the girl he thought was extremely cute.

He grabbed one of them and made his way back to where you were waiting for him.

"Here, I hope you like energy drinks?", he couldn't help but let some nervousness seep into his voice.

"Thank you, and I do", you answered him, and you visibly saw some tension leave his shoulders. "This is actually perfect. I'm so tired because I came right from work. Maybe this will wake me up a little", you said as you cracked the can open.

When he heard you say that, he wanted to pat himself on the back, but settled on giving you a contained smile instead.

"So", he sensed the lull in the conversation, and since he wasn't ready to stop talking to you yet, he decided to change the topic. "Who are you here with?"

"I'm friends with Charlie, she's Josh's fiancee", you answered him. He knew that Josh had gotten engaged in the last few months. Him and Nicholas knew Joah and Charlie from high school, and both of them were surprised it took Josh this long to ask the girl to marry him. Maybe if he was better at keeping contact with his friend, he could've met you way earlier.

"I saw you talking to her earlier", he pointed out and you cursed yourself, because your friends were right. He was watching you. "How did you two meet each other?", he asked and leaned against the table. He refrained from asking you to go inside and sit on the couch.

"We went to college together a few years ago. We were roomates and clicked instantly", you told him and he did the math in his head. You were friends with Charlie for what? Nine or ten years now? Shit, he really could've me you earlier. "What about you? Haven't seen you around before", you threw the question back at him, taking a sip from the drink in your hand. He had to avert his gaze from the way your lips wrapped around the rim, which was very distracting.

"Oh, I've known Josh for years. Us and a couple of other people here went to high school together", he saw your eyes light up with this information, visibly impressed.

"Oh my God. How come have I not seen you before?", you were shocked that you never noticed this man at any of the parties Josh and Charlie usually threw.

"I moved out of here really young. I live in LA now, so it's difficult to visit", he kept the information that he was in a band to himself. He liked the way you seem to not know who he is at all.

"I think he's mentioned having friends in LA before", you mused, but didn't dwell much on the information. "I don't blame you, LA seems to be much more interesting than here"

"Yeah, a little crazy out there. Not a dull moment, that's for sure", you agreed, and he wanted to know more about you, but refrained from asking what you did for a living, afraid that you would ask him back, and he sure didn't wanna lie to you.

"I never left here, I just assume from the stories I hear", he was surprised to hear this, not for the fact that you never visited other places, but because he couldn't imagine someone spending their whole lives in this place.

"You never felt the urge to go somewhere else?", he couldn't help but ask you. You thought for a second before answering him.

"I mean, I would obviously love to travel to other places, but I don't know if I would actually move somewhere else", he hummed, and you continued. "My whole life is here, my parents are here, and I know this city like the back of my hand. I guess I like the familiarity of the place"

He could understand that. Not everyone had a traumatizing childhood and teenage years like him. He guesses he could like the place if it wasn't tied to such bad memories.

He was about to ask you something else when Charlie approached the two of you, and he noticed the knowing look on her face the second he saw it.

"Hey, you two", she said as she rested one hand on your shoulder. "We're playing a board game in the living room, and Josh wanted me to ask if any of you would like to participate"

Noah waited for you to answer first, half hoping you would say no, just so he could talk to you for a little but longer. However, what you said instead crashed his hopes of talking to you for the rest of the party.

"I would love to, but I should be heading out. I'm dead tired and really need some sleep", you had an apologetic look on your face, and when he really took the time to look at you, he did notice your slightly droopy eyes.

"Thank you for coming, I know work has been chewing your ass lately", Charlie told you, but you dismissed her with a wave of your hand.

"You know I love hanging out with you guys, so it's worth the effort", you said with sincerity in your voice and you and Charlie exchanged a hug and goodbyes.

Turning back to face him, you noticed that you didn't really want to leave, but needed to before you got even more tired. Suddenly, you realized you never got his name.

"Well, we've been talking all this time and I never asked your name", you chuckled at the absurdity of it.

"My name is Noah", he extended his hand for you to shake. "What's yours?"

You took his hand in yours, noticing the way it entirely encompassed yours. You observed the details on the tattoos he had on his knuckles and hands, and you wondered once again if they continued up his arms and shoulders. "I'm Y/N"

"Well, Y/N, it's been a pleasure talking to you", he gave you soft smile and you wanted to get lost in his eyes and the way he was looking at you right now. As if you were the greatest thing that's happened to him the entire week. Little did you know.

"The feeling is mutual" you smiled back at him, having to let go of his hand, as to not turn this into those too long handshakes. "I should get going", you said and started to turn around before he stopped you.

"Actually", he started, prompting you to look back at him. "I was wondering if I could get your number", he had the same hopeful look on his face as earlier, when he asked you if he could grab you a drink. You looked at him for a few seconds before answering.

"Yeah, of course. Here it is", you handed him your phone and he put his contact in, giving it back to you.

"I'll text you so you can add mine", you tapped your screen a few times and after a couple of seconds, his phone vibrated on his back pocket. "There, now we have each other's numbers", you pocketed your phone.

"Text me when you get home?", he asked and you were caught a little off-guard, but couldn't deny you loved the way he genuinely seemed to care about you.

"Of course. I'll let you know", you smiled and contemplated giving him a hug, just to feel the way his arms would wrap around your body, but thought it would be too much for a first encounter. You settled in a little awkward wave as you turned around to make your way out of the backyard and in the direction of your car.

Noah, on the other hand, was frozen in place. When he spotted you, he was sure he was doomed to watch you from afar the whole night. But when he saw you by the table full of drinks, looking a little lost, he decided to take Nicholas' advice and mingle a little.

For someone who hated this city so much, he was actually feeling a little disappointed in having to leave in a few days. He always felt like there was nothing else worth sticking around for here, but as he replayed your smile in his head, and how your skin felt in his in those couple of seconds he shook your hand, he couldn't help but think he could stay here, if it meant he got to experince moments like this with you again.

He decided to make his way back inside, the party now with only a few people left. He sat on the couch as he watched Nicholas and his friends play a game of Monoply on the dinner table.

A few minutes went by when he felt his phone vibrate in back pocket. Fishing it out, he saw it was a text from you.

You: Hi! Just letting you know I got home safely :)

He felt a smile take over his face as he replied to you.

Noah: Hey! Glad everything went alright. Have a good night and sleep well x

You: Thank you :) Enjoy the rest of the party!

Noah: I'm about to leave soon actually. Talk to you tomorrow?

You: Sure! Drive home safe and let ME know when you get home? ;)

Noah: I will, but something tells me you'll be asleep by then

At home, you were leaning against the bathroom counter, your toothbrush hanging from your mouth, stupidly grinning at your phone.

You: I'll wait up :)

The next day was chores day for you. Clean the house, get the laundry done, change the sheets and whatever else you needed to do around the house.

Even with the music blaring through the speakers to keep you entertained while you loaded the dishes in the dishwasher, you couldn't help but let your mind run wild with thoughts of Noah.

You couldn't let go of the fact that he was so nice to you, despite never having seen you before. It's not that guys were never nice to you, it's just that the niceness came with the intentions fo something else, and you didn't want to think of Noah as one of those people.

Closing the dishwasher and starting the cycle, you made your way to the bedroom to collect all the clothes that needed washing.

As soon as you got in the room, you stopped in your tracks, your image on the mirror on the opposite wall from you catching your attention.

This was obviously a lazy day, and there was no use in dressing up to clean the house, but still, you could see the wisps of hair and the frizz sticking out from your bun, that sat atop of your head.

You wore a baggy t-shirt and some gym shorts, turning a bit to the side, you observed the fat of your thighs basically swallowing the tight fabric.

Nowadays, you weren't so worried with the way you look as you were as a teenager. A lot of therapy over the years helped you accept yourself. But you can't say it didn't leave any traumas behind.

Before you could even realize what was happening, the voices in your head were already sabotaging you.

"See? You were right. Noah is probably not attracted to you at all"

"He probably made a bet with someone about how he could charm the fat girl no one wants"

"He's tall, tattooed and handsome. You're just you"

It didn't matter anyway, he's doesn't even live here. His life in LA is probably more interesting than anything this city could offer him. He'll leave soon and your life would be back to normal. He'll probably not even text you, your phone number lost in all the other numbers he probably has in his phone.

Huffing with annoyance at how the day took a turn, you hurried to gather the clothes and make your way out of the room.

At the Ruffilo's house, Noah was laying on the couch, with his phone in his hand, open on your text thread with you from last night.

To be honest, he wanted to text you right when he woke up, but didn't want to come off to strong or bother you on your day off. Now, as it was nearing 3:00 pm, he was tired of holding himself back.

He's been contemplating on how he could ask you out for the entire day, and decided he should keep it simple. Maybe ask you out to eat some dinner. Nothing too fancy, just some burgers, fries and a milkshake at the place he loved to go with his friends as a teenager.

He even though about taking you to the lookout he always went to, to clear his head when the noises in his head got too loud. He hasn't been there in years, and now was a good time to try and resignify what the place meant to him.

So, he started typing.

Noah: Hey! Remember me?

He sent the text and stared at the screen, biting the nail on his thumb. He waited a couple of minutes for an answer, but the bubbles showing that you were typing a reply didn't appear on his screen.

You could be busy. Or you could already be out with someone else. It's the weekend after all, why would you spend it rotting away on the couch like him?

He knew if he stayed here, he would drive himself mad. So he decided to make his way uptairs to take a shower, and hopefully take his mind off of you for a few minutes.

Meanwhile, you were debating with yourself. After your dilemma earlier in the day, you weren't expecting to get a text from Noah. Actually, you were kind of hoping he wouldn't contact you, because you weren't ready to unpack what you were feeling for this guy you just met yesterday.

But here you are, mind running in circles thinking about what to say to him. Should you even reply? No, that's out of the question. You always thought it was rude to leave somone on read, especially on purpose.

You couldn't deny that you were curious to find out what he wanted. So, without dwelling much more on it, you started typing.

You: Hey there! Of course I do. Yesterday wasn't that long ago.

You wanted to lock your screen and chuck your phone across the room. But you weren't fifteen anymore, so you resorted to scrolling through social media as you waited for his responde. Eyes wandering to the notification bar every few seconds.

If this was just a booty call, you were going to be extremely upset. Would it be so bad though to have a one night stand with the hot guy?

Your phone vibrated in your hand, a text coming through.

Noah: Just wanted to make sure

What's up? You having a good weekend?

You: If good means cleaning the house the entire day, then I'm having a great weekend. What about you?

Noah: Well, now you're just making me feel bad, 'cause I didn't do anything the entire day

You: That sounds perfect, actually

Noah: Since your weekend has been so strenuous, what do you think about having some dinner?

Did he just ask you out? Were your eyes deceiving you? You didn't know what to tell him.

You obviously wanted to spend more time with him, enjoying the time you spent with him yesterday. But your mind took you back to earlier in the day. You hated yourself for always assuming the worst in a situation.

Maybe he didn't even mean anything by asking you to have dinner with him. Maybe he was just being polite. But why would he be polite to someone he just met?

Ultimately, you decided that this didn't have to mean anything more than just two people eating together. Besides, you were curious to find out what his intentions were. If he even had any.

You: Sounds good. What are you thinking?

Noah: Do you like burgers?

You: Oh, I love burgers!

Noah: It's set then! I know just the place

I'll pick you up at 7?

You: I'll be ready :)

Noah was sat on his bed, towel still wrapped around his hips, looking stupidly at his phone, a grin on his lips. He pondered a lot during his shower, and decided that he was done waiting. He didn't have much more time in his hometown, so he wanted to make the most of the time he still had with you.

He knew it was still too early to call this a first date, but he was nervous as if it was. He really hopes you like what he has planned for the two of you. It's nothing too fancy or too special, a simple dinner overlooking the city at night, but it held a lot of meaning for him.

Getting dressed and going downstairs to get some water, he knew he'd be stressing until it was time to leave to pick you up, so he decided to play some games on his computer to try and distract himself a little.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, and overanalyzed your outfit like you've been doing for probably the past 10 minutes. You wore a dress that went down to about your knees, it was a deep wine color, and threw on a leather jacket on top, just in case it got windy outside.

You opted to go for comfort instead of anything fancy, so deciding that this outfit was enough, you went to your closet and grabbed your pair of Vans and slipped them on your feet.

Noah should be here in about 15 minutes, and you wanted to be ready. He texted you a little earlier asking for your address, you gave it to him and just told him to text you when he got here. Since you lived in an apartment, it would be easir for you to come down and meet him at the entrance.

You didn't have to wait long until you phone chimed in your hands, a text popping up on the screen.

Noah: I'm here :)

You: I'll be down in a second!

Locking the door behind you, you waited for the elevator. Your legs couldn't seem to keep still, and you realized you were nervous for whatever was about to happen when you met him outside.

Do you hug him? Do you shake his hand? No, that's too formal of a greeting. But would he want to hug you this soon? He seemed to be a reserved person.

You didn't have much more time to overthink on this situation, because soon you were stepping inside the elevator. You cursed yourself for living only on the third floor, because before you could freak out a bit more, the doors dinged and you stepped out.

When you laid eyes on him, he was standing outside his car, back leaning against the passenger side door, long legs crossed and hands tucked into his pants' pockets.

You almost stopped yourself in your tracks. He was wearing a short sleeved shirt, and you could see the tattoos decorating both of his arms. You almost wanted to just stand there and admire the way looked waiting for you.

But you couldn't allow yourself to look like a fool on the first time you were going out with him. So you put on a smile and walked over to him. You didn't have to overthink anything at all, because as soon as you got close to him, you heard him say a "hello" and stretch out his arms for you to give him a hug.

He felt warm and sturdy against you, and you noticed the way his arms circled your shoulders and around your neck. You could feel his muscles through the fabric of your dress, and it made you a little dizzy.

When you both parted from the hug, you said "hi" back him.

"C'mon in", he gestured to the car and opened the door for you. You situated yourself on the passenger seat and he shut the door behind you, making his to the other side.

"So, what's the plan for tonight?", you asked, as you buckled you seatbelt and watched him do the same.

"I know this place that sells some really good burgers. My friends and I used to go there all the time. I hope it's still good", he answered and started driving.

"Burgers are always nice", you pointed out.

"Not always", he quickly looked at you with his eyebrows raised.

"Are you particular about your burgers?"

"It's not that I'm pinky or anything. It's just that I knwo when a burger is bad", he explained himself while taking a right turn and entering another neighbourhood.

"And what is a bad burger in your opinion?", you turned yourself slightly on your seat, so you could look at him better.

"Well, first, the bun has to be sealed, so it isn't soggy from the sauce", you nodded along to his explanation. "Then, the burger has to be thick enough to be juicy, and it can't be cooked for too long because then it becomes dry", he makes a face as if dry burgers are a personal attack to him.

"I guess you're right about all of that. Maybe spending four years in college kind of messed up my idea of good food"

"You ate a lot of weird stuff?", he asked you.

"It's incredible the stuff you can come up with on a budget", you shrugged and he seemed to be satisfied with your answer.

Not too long after, Noah's pulling to a vintage looking diner, but you notice him going to the drive thru instead of parking.

"We're not eating here?", you found yourself asking before you could stop.

"Shit, I didn't ask you", he stopped the car in the line and looked at you. "I was thinking about eating at this place I know, I think you're gonna like it", you could tell his confidence wavered a little bit, but you gave him a smile anyways.

"It's ok, I don't mind eating somewhere else"

The line progressed quickly and in about fifteen minutes, you were grabbing your order and Noah was driving again.

You noticed he was driving to a less populated area, and more trees came into view, the headlights of the car illuminated the path ahead.

"I clearly didn't think this through because this totally looks like I'm kidnapping you or something", he chuckled a little, but you could tell he was nervous.

"I didn't think about that", you told him. Maybe you thought this place was a little weird, but you weren't going to comment on that.

"We're almost there, ok", you nodded and true to his words, a few turns later, the car arrived at a clearence. Noah drove a little bit more and parked the car.

Looking through the windshield, you could see the light from the city below you and the stars shining bright above you.

"You were right. I really do like this place", you stated, still a little bit in awe. How did you not know about this place?

"I'm really glad you like it", he said, watching you observe the place around you. "Well, let's eat before the food gets cold"

You ate and talked, now feeling more comfortable with each other's presence. Noah told you he used to come here as a teenager all the time, though he didn't tell you the reason.

He didn't feel the same emotions now as he did before when coming to this place. It felt like a new life now for him, e new beginning, and he was to have someone like you here with him.

You did tell him though, that this was one of the best burgers you've ever eating in your life, and that you would totally eat there more. He couldn't hide the smile on his face.

After you were done, he gathered all the wrappers and cups and got out of the car to put it in the trash can that was not too far away from the car.

You sat there, observing him and wondering if you were the only one feeling like this was more than just two people who just met each other going out to dinner.

He got back and sat down on the driver's seat. Looking out into the city, he said "I kind of don't wanna go yet"

"I don't either", you agreed. You felt a weird sense of calm on this place, with him. "I can tell that being here means a lot to you. And you don't have to tell me anything, but I'm glad you brought me here"

He didn't say anything for a while, and you both just sat there in comfortable silence.

"I never liked coming back here, to my hometown", he started, you just looked at him, not saying anything, not wanting to rush him. "I have really bad memories from this place. But don't know, being here this time, meeting you, made me feel like this city still has some good in it"

"Noah, I'm hardly anyone important", you reasoned.

"It's not that. I just feel like you're here because you wanna be, and not because you want to get something from me", he looked down at his lap.

"Why would I wanna get something from you?", you were feeling a little confused now.

"it's just always the way it works. Charlie never told you whar I do on LA?", he questioned you, looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

"She told me you're in a band. Which I googled and you guys look pretty good at what you do", you noticed his eyes widening when you said this.

"So you know?", his voice was a little smaller right now, aprehensive.

"Of course. Josh would never shut up about his friends who went to LA and got famous", you laughed quietly at this. "I'm sorry that people made you feel worthy only if you have something to give them"

He looked down again, but you continued. "But I was serious when I told you that I'm not anyone important. I'm glad to be here right now, and I really enjoy your company, but you're going back to LA soon and then this is the last thing you'll think about"

"I don't think that's true", he was quick to disagree with you. "Before arriving here, I felt dread coming back to this place. Now I feel like I don't wanna leave. You're the reason for that, and I'll never forget the way you've made me feel this past two days. Because I haven't felt his normal in years", you didn't know what to say to that, so you just looked at him.

He straighted his back, and leaned his elbows on the center console, his face now closer to yours.

"Will you give me the pleasure of tasting your lips before I go absolutely insane?", he was looking right at your eyes, voice low as if there weren't the two of you here.

"We can't have you going insane, can we?", you said and leaned closer, brushing your lips on his.

You felt his hand going up your neck and gripping your jaw. He licked his lips and you closed your eyes, and soon you felt the plush of his lips on yours, slow at first, but then he got a little more urgent, picking up his pace.

His tongue teased your lips and you granted him entrance, you whimpered at the feeling of his mouth on yours, and he held your face tighter.

After parting, you were both panting, you with a smile in your face at the feeling of his thumb carresing your cheek.

"How am I supposed to ever leave this place now?", he wondered out loud and connected his lips yours again.

[hoseoksluna]

SMOKE, i. | myg

pairing: idol!yoongi x smoke!oc (ft. bangtan)

genre: angst

word count: 6.8k

summary: everything that begins also ends.

pinterest board: smoke / taglist: join

warnings: suicide ideation, yoongi has deep feelings that he hasn't felt in a long time, sexual innuendos, yoongi has brief dirty thoughts, alcohol consumption, talks of alcohol, social anxiety and feelings of anxiety in general, jungkook has mint hair, covid and the pandemic, talking to a dead loved one, jealousy, envy, anger, crying, yoongi's bad shoulder.

note: welcome to the brand new yoongi series! i can't believe this baby is alive and ready for you to read. i struggled with this a lot, since it's written in a way i've never tried before. yoongi's pov, first person—like what? i thought this chapter was pretty shitty as i didn't feel comfortable writing in this style, but i pushed through, felt like it was meant to be—which is why i need tons of your validation. i was also kinda sad today, so please send your love. :( fyi, jungkook may be a huge part of the beginning of this story, but this is not steam pt 2. jungkook won't be present as much later on. no polyamory here. *spoiler* he just brought oc to yoongi and then he will lovingly go away, dw. :) enjoy this first chapter, i can't wait for many more! kisses.

side note: happy bday to us! mwah.

It was a bang, what happened in our group. 

A bomb that blew off in Jungkookie’s trembling hands when he shared the news. A decision that wasn’t really collectively discussed, not even privately with Namjoon—but an information that erupted among us as we sat in the lounge room of the venue, refreshing ourselves with snacks and drinks after the tough soundcheck we had. I had a bottle of Hennessy in my hands myself, about to pour myself some liquid courage in order to chase away the bitter ire I had swirling in my veins, but hearing his words made me forget about the nectar right away. 

He was bringing along a female friend for the tour. 

The ire turned sour in my bloodstream. 

He must’ve lost his mind. 

And what’s worse, I was the only one who looked at him as if he were a lunatic. The members squealed and hollered, clapping their hands, shouting different variations of words of, “Jungkookie got a girlfriend!” that made him blush so profusely that he wasn’t able to reciprocate any of our eye contact. 

Especially not mine. 

I was fuming, taking breaths that hurt my lungs. The bottle of liquid courage damn nearly broke, but I didn’t feel a thing. How could I—when amidst the ruckus and the soft smiles of our staff my feelings parted and melted into a crossroad that I began to stand in the middle of. 

One way led to selfishness, the other to the very polar opposite of it. 

Jungkook didn’t deal with the pandemic well. His skin was invariably lined with a certain sensitivity towards forlornness and when the mandate forced upon him a pressure of being abandoned—by us and by his long time flirt that was the driving force behind his creativity, besides Army themselves—he didn’t take it well. Crawled inside himself, even deeper within when our management canceled our Map of the Soul tour and we had to stay bricked up inside our homes for a full year. 

He was crestfallen and despondent, a decaying human. No girlfriend, no Army. No band members to slap his back, cook him food and distract his mind from the loneliness. 

Except for me. 

I was the one who made time for him. Who visited him, despite our management’s strong disliking for it. I went around them and did it without anyone’s knowledge but Jungkook’s. With a mask and health in perfect condition that I took care of more for him than for anyone else. Our relationship blossomed to highs that overgrew the bricked walls of our mandatory, artificial castle. A peach honeysuckle vine that we watched as much as we could while I wrote poems to him in my heart to alleviate his ache. It was spring and one, singular  hummingbird would fly in to listen to my words while inhaling the sweetened perfume of those pale orange flowers or the fragrance of the natural honey I would buy him and pour over the pancakes I would make for him. A comfort food, a symbol of our secret meetings. A butterfly would sit on the small creature’s back, just to look over its wings and be a witness to a mind’s mending, an afternoon’s tea mixed with dark liquor that would always fade to noraebang. 

The key to Jungkook’s heart. 

I don’t know how the little fella found us, but I wish his wings would sense us here. There’s no windows for him to look out of, but the craving in me for it to fly in and save the day, remind Jungkook who’s been here for him this whole time, blossoms in me just like those peach flowers. 

The castle has collapsed a tiny bit, but the honeysuckle remains untouched. 

Or at least I hope so. 

The other, non-selfish way is simple. Our work had been put off for so long and now that we’re able to pick it back up—in a way that isn’t as satisfactory as I’d want it to be, of course, for the only faces we’ll be seeing beyond the stage are the ones of camera lenses, not the ones belonging to our beautiful Army—there’s a distraction, an external person who could never understand the gravity of that pain we all went through. 

This was supposed to be a precious time shared between us. Another mending of some sort—as our job is the chambers of our hearts. 

And now as I look at her, I feel her playing with those strings of my heart like a harp. And I have that terrible feeling that she will open the doors to each chamber and ruin everything we’ve worked so hard for. 

In spite of the fact that she didn’t do anything wrong. It’s a gut feeling that consumes me and I can’t do a thing about it, not even admit that it gives me the tiniest hint of a thrill that I’ve been craving for so long. 

Jungkook wasn’t the only one affected by the loneliness that came with the mandate. I gave my all to him and always walked out of his door empty—with no one to refill me. 

Performing again was supposed to do the job, but it seems as though she’s come in to hijack it.

Announcement, the ruffling of his hair and multitudes of teasing aside, we had an hour and half left until the beginning of our first show in Seoul. Jungkook left us, with cheeks as darkened as poppies in the summer, with a staff member and our bodyguard to pick her up at a designated meeting spot nearby. He hadn’t eaten all day—not before our dismal soundcheck and certainly not during our hair and makeup session. A ribbon of worry curled tightly in my gut that unfurled once he filled his plate with hotdogs after introducing her to us.

No shaking of hands, only Jungkook’s hand pointing at each member while his mouth gave life to their names. And she didn’t nod her head, not even once, as she moved to greet and smile at every face, which caused me to think that she either already knew of us, either due to our popularity or due to Jungkook’s stories—or both. 

But when it was my turn, her smile faltered.

I didn’t see much of her face, for she wore a black mask. And the only part of her features I was able to see spoke to me in a foreign language I was too pissed off to decipher.

Feline eyes. 

Round and wispy, so terribly cat-like that it cut through my heartstrings she played with and then abandoned. She held my gaze so unfathomably deeply and it wasn’t until she whisked her eyes away that I realized she, irrevocably, clutched time in her hands. It had stopped during that brief moment and resumed as if nothing happened. 

It unnerved me. 

As did my strange feelings as I took in the personality of her outer form. 

She wore a long silky dress, as black as her energy and her hair nearly akin to the length of that garment. Its hem brushed against her ankles with every movement she made and her feet were shod in a pair of heels that would puncture my heart if she so much as wished so. Over her shoulder hung a matching, leather purse and I noticed something that bruised, most peculiarly, my flesh. 

The clasp of her chain strap had a chubby Grookey Pokémon caged as a keychain. 

I found it as adorable as absolutely dangerous. Still do as my eyes can’t help but to watch it twirl. 

She’s a dangerous black cat, with her claws tucked in. And the entire night coils in her eyes, dressing her in innocence and a simultaneous seductiveness that make my lungs swell. 

A quintessence of beauty, she is.

After the introduction is over, Jungkook pulls out a chair for her beside him, sitting down and not wasting a second as he stuffs his mouth full with one of the hotdogs. The monkey bounces with her movement and it’s only now that my brain puts two and two together. The monster almost matches the minty tinge of Jungkook’s dyed hair with its plump, green body. 

None of them know that I match him, too. 

A leaf of the same plant swirls in my glass of whiskey. 

And the notion of iciness that it adds to the bitterness of the liquid turns to ash in my mouth as I take a sip. I, myself, sit on the armrest on the couch, alone—but not alone physically. Hobi rests, leisurely, next to me and she’s stolen glances at him more times than I like. Looked at him while completely avoiding the ring of protectiveness I’ve conjured around myself. 

She does good, but it spreads fire to the strangeness of my feelings that I can’t name. 

Is she throwing a rope around another one of the boys? Her claws itching to rise? 

Who’s next? 

I sigh as she laughs, softly, at something Namjoon says and it deepens my ire. Namjoon should’ve made order as the leader of our group. Should’ve said no to Jungkook at the unfolding of his news and keep the number of our group to seven. Especially when our time together is this precious. 

Not chatting her up and coaxing that wonderful sound out of her.  

“Can we get you anything to drink?” Namjoon asks, waving his hand in the direction of the alcohol station out far in the left corner of the lounge room. A mint plant mocks me as my eyes flick to it while I take another sip. The reason why it’s there in the first place is because Jimin likes his mojitos. 

He sips on it like it’s a Capri-Sun as I swallow the dark liquid after swirling it in my mouth for a moment, the bitterness doing nothing to stifle my ire. 

“No,” she says, feebly, brushing her fingers down the length of her ebony hair before tossing it over her shoulder, giving me a perfect look of one singular strand that has been dyed in the same pale green color that is suffused all though Jungkook’s hair. The shade, but darker, more sinister, imbues my blood with envy. It’s not that soft color, redolent of spring meadows, by any chance. It’s an ancient, vague memory of a forest once in full bloom that is now withering and dying at dusk. How long has he been seeing her that they reached this base? “I don’t drink hard liquor, but thank you.” 

Namjoon licks his lips, spreading his arms over the two empty chairs beside him. “Ah,” he laments, smiling at her, gently. “You don’t drink at all?” 

Jungkook lifts his head from his plate, laughing through his nose as he chews his food, his mouth forming into that bunny smile of his. He knows something I don’t and my green blood boils. 

The cat girl grins, her head twisted in Jungkook’s direction when she laughs, the skin under her chin rounding out, and my chest tightens in endearment at the sight of it. 

The cutest fucking double chin I ever have the eyes to see. 

Fuck. 

“Oh, she drinks,” Jungkook says, his words muffled due to his full cheeks, the food inside showing as he continues to be all smiles.

The cat girl pinches his arm, but owing to the thick fluffiness of his jumper, she doesn't reach skin, and therefore doesn't inflict the pain she intended. Jungkook pretends to moan in pain, anyway. My chest tightens again—this time for a beat longer. 

An oddity flies through my vision, slicing through my envy. 

Her claws sinking into my bare skin as I let her playfulness out—

I shake that picture out of my head as quickly as it arrives, running my fingers through my strands that had fallen in front of my eyes. The girl helps my effort by speaking, distracting me from the faint rush of lust that begins to course down my body. 

I can’t get hard. 

“Yeah, I only drink wine,” she reveals, coyness entwining around her tone, and she kneads her hands, struggling with her straight posture. 

Another distraction, one that softens, most peculiarly, my lust. 

If I were born with deaf ears, I would’ve known she was fighting through her shyness by one glance at her body language and I don’t blame her. 

She doesn’t have only seven pairs of eyes watching her. She’s the apple of fifteen more if I include our staff, sound engineers and our management. 

If I weren’t the person I was and if this wasn’t my job, I would have run the first chance I got. A certain admiration envelops my heart the more I study her toy with her fingers, soothingly, because of a reason that aches to admit. 

A reason far from plain. 

She’s the same as me. Uncomfortable by and disliking any public event with people involved, especially if you’re put in a position to talk. 

A bond forms and I can’t stop it. I can’t rip it apart even as I willfully try in my headspace to cut off that red string tied around my heart, leading to hers. I can’t because she eventually slouches, giving up, her spine protruding towards me through the open back of her dress, for she’s turned her body towards Namjoon, who sits at the head of the table, but I figure she did it in order to be closer to Jungkook to gain some comfort from him. The skin of her back is refulgent and tanned, scattered with little blemishes that connect, like constellations, to a night sky full of birthmarks, and that only add to her beauty.

Her whole back is filled with them, stirring my wonder. And, unknowingly, she let me see by sweeping her hair to one side. I wonder if Jungkook has seen them and appreciates them as much as I do—

Jungkook burps, obscenely loudly, setting down Hobi’s unfinished can of Sprite that he left on the table. I’m sure Hobi’s regretting making that mistake, but when I look at him, he’s smiling so widely that I can see his gums and I’m so astounded by that view that I’m thrown off my balance. 

Even more so, when I check the reactions of the other members and begin to feel shame descending down my own spine like cold sweat. Jimin has hearts thumping in his eyes, raising his hand in the girl cat’s direction, connecting with her as he says he loves a good bubbly. Taehyung, sitting on the direct opposite side of Jungkook by the table with his arms crossed and his face flushed intones that tonight after the show he will break his sobriety streak. Jin joins the table and flicks Taehyung’s forehead, tells him he doesn’t have to break anything while taking a huge bite of his banana. And Namjoon… he laughs, hands intertwined upon the back of his head. 

The whole table laughs, in fact.

Hobi does beside me, too.

I’m the only one who doesn’t, steeped in my uncertainty as I am. 

They all bask in comfort and gaiety. There’s no awkwardness, no unspoken words or silence that hangs heavily in the air. There’s no need for our hummingbird; no need to change directions, play pretend or act accordingly to the new situation because there’s absolutely nothing new about the atmosphere I find myself to be in. Everything is as if it were just the seven of us. 

Making jokes, lighthearted energy, connections lengthening and digging deep… 

I haven’t seen that, been a part of that in so long. 

I was wrong—and the shame, stemming from my wrong impression and unwarranted fear, washes out the envy from my blood. It stands, arm to arm, with my life-long emptiness and I bow my head down, licking my lips.

I wish to exit myself out of this room. 

I wish my heart wasn’t so sensitive. 

I wish— 

“It’s her birthday today and I bought so many bottles of champagne and wine,” Jungkook says, running his tongue over his teeth, and my head lifts; my heart enlarges before it shrinks, painfully, magnifying my shame until it grazes the flesh like a shard. It’s her birthday? “I’ll need your help, guys. We’re not celebrating here tonight. After the show, we’re going to my place.” 

It’s not peach honeysuckle that I’m thinking of. Not pancakes. Not our hummingbird and butterfly as the boys cheer all over again, wishing her happy birthday. 

It’s her that I’m thinking of. 

And how much I messed up. 

He brought her here to make her birthday special—to be with her on the day that carries her name, not to replace me.

It explains why she’s so magnificently dressed up; why she’s putting her feet through so much pain in those heels of hers. 

Just for one night. And I’ve managed to ruin it so majestically with my energy. No wonder she won’t look at me; no wonder her eyes won’t even sweep past me en route to Hobi’s chocolate fountain that his eyes emanate. 

Mine are nothing but death. I don’t blame the decline of her smile as her pools met it. A kitty cat that looked at the face of a skull. It symbolized the end of time and now I perceive that it epitomizes the end of me. 

The longer she’s present, the more I loosen the consuming negativity that I’ve lived for so long in compliance with—because now I’m soft. 

I’m gutted I made her feel awful to be here with my dark energy. 

“Jungkook, you should’ve told us that was the reason why you brought her along. We would have welcomed you with a happy birthday song,” Namjoon says, his palm lifted towards Jungkook and her while his other hand reminds behind his head. 

I can’t see her smile. Not even a hint of it in her eyes, for this time around she doesn’t turn around to steal a glance at Hobi. And I wish she would, with a strength that I’m in awe that I’m even possessing, because I find myself yearning to look at her face, amidst my softness. 

I misjudged her so terribly that the yearning doubles as she presses her hands against her cheeks amidst the overbearing attention. Becomes a need—a need to fix what I so unfairly have broken. 

And jealousy thunderstrikes in my system when Jungkook bumps his shoulder into hers, gently, his head tipped low, fixed in her direction as she struggles, once again, in her shyness. Straightens her spine just in time for Jungkook to curl a finger around her ear and take off her black mask. 

I’m so jealous everyone else gets to see her face fully that indignation supersedes my past ire and my softness and I’m quickly up on my feet, ready to walk out to breathe in some fresh air but something else steps into my plan. 

And it’s not her. 

It could never be her. 

Staffs members circle around us, guiding us out of the room to wire us up. But I stall my time, purposefully staying behind so I can look at her. I pretend to exercise my pain from my shoulder surgery by rolling it and making a face. Jungkook whispers something to her, her face pointed upwards as he stands before her while she remains sitting and I’m so bothered by it that it calls out the pain, incites it to come haunt me again. 

Everyone else had something to say to her—and yet I still haven’t, owing to my foolish mistake. Self-hatred fastens to my anger and I can’t breathe, my lack of knowing what to say to her when the time comes worsening my feelings. 

The boys leave the room and it’s just me and her. The staff member knows not to push me, but the pressure in her eyes is the driving force that takes my legs to the kitty girl. 

She sits so awfully forlornly in her chair, reminds me so much of Jungkook, her spine back to slouching, that marvelous pillar protruding again and my lungs do that thing they seem to automatically do whenever I see that part of her. 

She hears my footfalls as I approach her, but she doesn’t turn around. I ignore the way it makes me feel, the heaviness that comes with it, too. She, in most probability, thinks I’m walking out of this room without saying a word to her, but I’m not capable of that. 

Not anymore. 

I call out her name and, in surprise, she lifts her spine. Turns around, at last, the sleek fabric of the dress adding swiftness to the movement and I see her face. Her full mouth that compliments, most perfectly, her big feline eyes. And I think about how much her dark, sensual energy doesn’t mirror her personality, her coyness that hides inside until someone speaks to her. Her chin is so small that my fist would still be empty if I held it in the way my body asks for, but the look she gives me diminishes the lust that slowly begins to crawl again within me. 

It’s one that bears a different kind of shyness. It’s fear-induced respect and the hatred towards myself thickens. 

I don’t want her to feel this way, but I molded it in her. 

It’s my fault. 

It’s why I think twice before I tell my fingers no, for they ache to drum against the top edge of her chair in effort to linger in her proximity. I won’t encourage her discomfort when I yearn to wipe it clean. But when she inhales my prolonged silence and raises her thin brows in waiting, the tiniest sliver of a smile quivering on her lips, she doesn’t know it—but she somehow gives me the words I was lacking. 

“Did Jungkook tell you where to go?” I ask, softly, fearing her knees will turn away from me, her body language divulging to me the depth of her uneasiness around me. But she remains put, the pillows of her lips balancing at last as they stretch out in a small grin that I don’t deserve. 

Her slender nose crinkles. 

My heart forgets to beat.

“No, he told me to wait here and that Min-ji will take me to a room where I can watch you, guys, perform on the TV,” she says, her grin making it difficult for her to get the words out and she blushes. There must be some other, silent language shared between our bodies because I discover myself smiling, too, even though there’s nothing from her sentence that can possibly be the cause of it. 

The energy shifts, devastatingly, and heat clings to my skin, dispersing relief down my nerve endings. 

All while buzzing tingles chase it, hastily, grabbing it by the back of its shirt and consuming it. 

It’s strange, so terribly strange to be consumed by nervousness when I’ve been used to nothingness and emptiness for so long. 

And her eyes seem to grow bigger, despite the irrepressible dynamism of her fear. Is she gaining thrill out of it—to be staring at the face of breaking death like the small kitten she is and knowing it’s her power that influences me? 

Those eyes. If my ears weren’t bombarded by Hobi’s sound effects wafting down the hall and into the lounge room, mingling with the rise and fall of Jungkook’s voice as he warms it up, I swear I can hear the song of swallows in them. She’s a manifestation of a summer evening in her fear and nervousness, when those birds go mad in the tender blues and pinks of the sky—and I don’t know why I like it so much. Why I want to seize it in my hand and squeeze it. 

And she’s about to be all alone here with it while I go join the rest of my brothers. 

It’s something that doesn’t feel right. 

The staff member taps me on my back. Time is against me—why doesn’t she control it? I swivel behind me to catch her nodding her chin in the direction of the hall and I sigh, quietly. 

“Wait with her until Min-ji comes to get her, so she’s not alone here,” I tell her, then look down at the kitty girl again. 

Her raised brows create wrinkles on her forehead and once she sees that I’ve noticed, she relaxes, wetting her lips. Doesn't want me to see the surprise that comes from what she created in me. 

How cute. 

“Enjoy the show,” I murmur, moving my feet towards the exit. I gaze back at her, catch her lungs shuddering, and the words slip off my tongue before I scramble the courage to stop them. “And happy birthday.” 

Her blush reaches her neck and it’s all my vision consists of—even when I’m performing. 

Our interaction was too short. Too, too short. And my anger took on a new face. 

Hers. 

Every word I rapped as I stared into the camera, I felt it dissolving in me and transforming into a yearning so great that my verses gained new meaning. A yearning to see her again, talk to her, pinch that fear in my fingers and fling it away, make space for something in her that had the vigor to surprise me and make me soft again. And in my concentration, I didn’t have the fight in me to put a stop to it. I was doing my duty for the happiness of our Army and while I thought about her, it seemed right. Those two things went along and it spurred a pleasant feeling in me that was warmer than the adrenaline sticking to my inflamed body from all the performing. 

It didn’t hit me that she was watching me the whole time until my eyes regarded her unperturbed, flaccid posture in that white plastic chair, wading in my thoughts as I was. Her grin and the flecks of light in her eyes illuminate the room with orange, blazing fire. She’s barefoot, her heels kicked to the side, crooked, elegiac, yet still sensuous. Our show is being rerun on the TV and she’s watching it, transfixed, not realizing me and Jungkook were the first to come to her out of the group. 

A mental connection clicks in my brain at the sight of it. The peach blossoms of the honeysuckle, Jungkook and the genuine love I carry for him. It is that orange color—it’s a home that keeps it safe, the atmosphere that she exudes through her evident elation and I don’t really understand why I feel this way. 

I haven’t even known her for a day. 

And it’s forced to collapse when her pools don’t find mine, but Jungkook’s once we walk in, joining her. She holds up her hand in the air, curling down her middle and ring fingers in while the rest of her digits remain erect, small and slim as they are. Her nose crunches up in the way it did when our bodies spoke in that secret language. And when she laughs and the corners of her eyes crinkle, I realize she’s mimicking his gesture that he so often does on stage while showing off his Army tattoo. 

The finger-fucking gesture. 

Her blush beams on her face, even more so when she does a stroking movement with her curled fingers, and I can’t help but wonder, briefly, if that’s how she does it to herself when she’s all alone and the night sinks inside her skin to get a refill of her juices, only to smear it across the sky.

It’s what I need to focus on, so I don’t explode in anger that she ignores me. 

Jungkook cackles, sticking out his tongue and doing the gesture. I hide my face in my towel, getting rid of the sweat coating me—but it pours out of my pores again when I hear her giggle. 

And I need to leave, my imagination no longer strong enough to withstand the jealousy that poisons my blood all over again. 

I fling the towel out and away from me, not caring where it lands. 

I don’t meet any eyes as I walk out, keeping my sight fixed on the gray floor, streaked with black lines from the hundreds of wheels of carts that have drove down the hall and from all the sneakers that have walked past. I follow them and I don’t know where they take me until I’m suddenly face to face with the gaping night. 

And it’s not her. 

It’s my wound. 

No stars for a naked pupil to see. Merely an abounding canvas of blackness that stares back at me and questions me, questions my feelings when it knows full well how hard I’ve wept, many times, in its airy embrace. 

I sit against the wall, needing something solid to support me, the spaciousness of the roof enveloping me, but not tightly enough. There, but never close enough—always a safe distance apart, as if afraid of me. 

Everyone is so always fucking afraid of me. 

And when they lean in and graze my heart, they get repulsed by me. 

It’s an ouroboros that my life, like my legs, follows. Like a dog chasing its own tail—and it’s such a perfect comparison because I’ve always been alone, save for my brothers. Distracted for a while, then alone again. 

I’m weary of it, despite the fact my body tends to wait for the thrill of the attention, longs for it, even when I dislike it. I’m an oxymoron that won’t cease and I have to live with it. 

And I can’t exit out of it because I have millions of lives that depend on me, plus six more. 

I sigh and I think sucking on a cigarette, numbly, while I crawl on my knees through the forest of my thoughts and feelings would be a thing of perfection. But I can’t afford that. Not when we’re working again. Not when our boss lurks at every corner, has eyes everywhere. Jungkook has had his last hotdog for a while and I… 

I swathed my broken strings around someone he brought into my life. 

Through a little hole my brothers let me see by forcing her to sit through a conversation that was a pain for her. A moonlight stripe of her personality, encased by her social anxiety and shyness. One that has awakened my body to emotions it hasn’t felt the touch of in a long time. 

Why am I not fighting it? 

Why am I not coercing my soul into submission, into that abyss of emptiness and hostility? 

Why am I letting myself feel? 

She’s just a girl that he’s seeing. Many stories like these have been written before and we’ve read the lines, recognized words that limned us, only for the love interest to disappear into thin air after some time like she never existed. And she’d just be another character in his love chronicles, if her persona hadn’t spoken to me so much. 

If her body hadn’t spoken to me in a language no one knows—not even me. 

I can’t begin my sentences about her with ‘she’s just a girl’, because she isn’t. 

And I don’t understand how that’s come to be. 

It happened so quickly that I fear I wasn’t present enough. 

My wound tilts its head as my world does the same thing—slants on its axis. Coos at me, seeing me, seeing through me. Reminds me of what happened the last time I felt. 

The passing of my girlfriend gave me the gift of a gun to my hand—gave me the face of death that I’ve been carrying ever since because it nearly made my dream of time ending come true. And the kitty girl… standstill hangs off her fingers like a pearl necklace that’s too long. And I find myself wanting to wear it. Because it’s her decision, her consciousness, her will. 

Not mine. 

And it will bring me closer to my Sun-mi.

My wound begins to cry at the memory of her, raindrops pitter-pattering on the tin ridges of the rooftop and I cherish that she’s remembered and honored by such vastness, by such picturesqueness that I’ve always considered the night to be. And when the wind brushes along my fidgeting hands, I almost feel her touch all over again. 

Feel. 

I feel. 

And in my heart, I tell her. I sail to her, attaching myself to her again. Tell my Sun-mi that I am capable of feeling and that I don’t know how it came together in me. And I ask her, in utmost respect, to guide me on this unknown path. 

Because I am alone without her. Adrift, without rhyme and reason. No wits to me, no rationality, no clear perception of right and wrong. 

There’s only grayness to me. 

Maybe that’s why I, unknowingly, dyed my hair this color before the start of the tour. 

And it dawns on me, now that one chapter has closed in my life, that the passing of my Sun-mi a year and a half ago is the reason why I’ve clung to Jungkook so rigidly. Because I couldn’t spend my time on her, I spent it on Jungkook. Because I had all this love for her and I couldn’t give it to her, so I gave it to Jungkook. 

And the kitty girl has put a stop to it. 

Sun-mi graces me with the tepid, yet fuzzy impression that it’s good—that it was meant to happen. And I believe her. 

And with my belief, the rain thickens. 

A thunder rolls forward from a far-away corner of the canvas of the sky that I can’t see. And I dwell in the pool of the fountain of the love I still have for her and forever will continue to have. Kneel in it. Search for her. 

I imagine her. The button of her nose, the curl of her top lip whenever we ridiculed aegyo by doing it together and doing a good fucking job while at it. I imagine her small fist at her round cheek, but she connects my memories to the kitty girl. 

And she consumes me, wholly.

Sun-mi makes me imagine her doing a cat-like aegyo and as the corner of my mouth lifts, a particular fear devours my gut. 

A fear of closeness. 

A fear of doing something with her that I did with Sun-mi, even when she okays it in my spirit. 

A fear of reliving something so painful again. 

The rain inches towards me and I scurry to my feet, my hand trembling as I open the door to the staircase. And when I shut out the sound of hard rainfall and prevent the traumatic memories of my accident from slinking into my mind, it’s the only strength I have left. 

And I crumble. 

I mirror the rain I abhor so much. 

I sit on the top of the staircase and I sear my hands with my acid-suffused tears. Sob so devastatingly that I don’t recognize myself, drenching the denim fabric over my knees. And when I pull on my hair, numbness is all that I detect within me. 

Good. 

No feelings; only emptiness. 

I steel myself by taking a few deep breaths, letting the oxygen settle that deep in me. And I unattach myself from my Sun-mi, promise her I will get back to her soon. Go back to who I previously was before I scraped the skin of my knees raw on the hardened soil of my emotions and thoughts. 

Alone death. 

But Sun-mi doesn’t sail away back to heaven. Doesn’t let me go. She stomps her foot on the wet grass of my heart and I understand why. I asked her to guide me and what I didn’t know was that she would break the laws of heaven in order to do that. She wouldn’t whisper words of wisdom into the chambers of my heart. She would take my hand and show me wisdom, pointing me to the right decision. 

That is my Sun-mi. 

I let her because I need her. I bow to her and I would stoop to my stomach on this dirty, metal staircase floor to divulge my respect and gratitude to her if I didn’t hear a voice echoing up towards me. 

A familiar male voice calling out to me. 

Sun-mi pulls me to it and tingles vibrate down my legs as I fly through the stairs, skipping the bottom ones in order to get me faster to my brother. Sun-mi pumps blood into my heart, refreshing the grass she lays upon, and lightness descends upon my shoulders. 

Her work of art. 

Heaving, I meet Jungkook in the doorframe, glancing up at me, disappointment lidding his eyes. But I don’t fear, not when Sun-mi is with me. He opens the door wider for me to step through, but I remain fixed on my spot, panting, ringing piercing through my hearing sense. 

Too much adrenaline at once in a season of drought. My body is unable to catch up to the new acclimatization. 

“What’s going on?” I ask, my throat raw from my crying and I clear it, so there’s no evidence of my sensitivity. Sun-mi caresses the wall of my heart to soothe me and tears burn at the back of my eyes—from the simple fact that I can feel her. 

I’ve felt her only once before. A week after she died, I prayed to her, loudly, until I lost my voice. Begged her to come back to me. 

And she did. 

And it felt nice until it didn’t—so I made it my habit to attach and unattach myself because of my fragility. It is only a matter of time before the logic of your mind distinguishes a real person from a ghost. And the parting of that vulnerable mist, in the middle of your agony, isn’t for the faint-hearted. 

But Sun-mi, at this very moment, feels more real than she ever has. As if she truly was hidden in the rooms of my heart like a little doll, like a little angel that has the task from above to guide me. 

And because I need it, I’ll let more time pass through this transcendental connection. 

Jungkook flattens his lips, tightly, the tip of his tongue poking out to play with the thin metal pierced through his bottom lip. He’s changed back into the clothes he came in, minus the fluffy jacket. A black T-shirt, black pants and sneakers. It makes the green of his hair stand out—just like the wisp of the same color on that singular strand of the girl kitty’s hair. 

They have a tendency to match and shame boils in me, that Sun-mi is a witness to the jealousy I feel. I haven’t told her and I don’t know if I want to. In my momentary cowardice, I hope that she can sense it and validate it. 

But I gain nothing from her. 

Silence. 

One that Jungkook breaks. 

“Staff said that we have to wait until the storm passes.” 

My stomach sinks, the memory of the rainfall faint in my ears. “Good.” 

Jungkook pauses before he voices out the question that I can visibly see rising in him. Nibbles his bottom lip, the metal tilting to the side like my world. “Where did you go?” 

My breath shivers as I inhale, tasting my half-false words before I speak them. “I felt hot and I needed some fresh air.” 

I felt jealous that you made dirty innuendos with your friend, I don’t say. It led me to seek my dead girlfriend because I feel inclined to fraternize with that aforementioned friend. 

Jungkook frowns. “You went out in the rain?” 

I pass through the gap between his body and the doorframe, not able to stand the position I’ve been put in, anxiety prickling my fingertips. Jungkook lets the door shut behind him with a loud thud, following closely behind me until he falls in step beside me. 

“It felt refreshing until it didn’t,” I decide to mutter. Typical words of mine—I can’t stand them either. 

Sun-mi is still silent.

Maybe I should unattach myself, protect myself from further pain. It was a moment of weakness, anyways—

Jungkook rubs my shoulder, gently, the fixed one, barely touching me, but the gesture is there. And I grasp why I love him so much. 

His gentleness is everything to me. 

“The rain will stop,” he says and I take those words to heart, giving them the meaning that they are the wisdom I needed to hear, the wisdom I sought from my quiet Sun-mi. 

The rain will stop. 

The sensitivity will stop, too. 

And time will stop soon, one day. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hobiberrystuff.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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[azrielsdove]

Ive really been loving all that you post. I've had this idea rattling in my head. It's a Azriel x best friend Reader. Where their friendship has mostly been platonic. Azriel and Elain were an item before she eventually left him for lucien, causing Azriel to spiral outta control. Azriels getting blackout drunk like every night, crying his eyes out saying how much he loved Elain, getting into fights hes just a mess and although readers there helping him shes fucking hurt that her friends suffering. I picture reader coming to help Azriel again one night dressed really nice and drop dead gorgeous, shes getting him into bed or whatever and hes just staring at her, like really looking at her. The bond snaps for him that instant and hes taking her in and asks her why are u wearing a gown? And she tells him she was on a date with Eris but ended it early to come help him. Breaks his fucking heart that shes dating someone (Especially Eris) but he then realizes shes always been there by his side. I imagine her not knowing about the bond or ignoring it cuz she just can't be Azriels 2nd choice ( but also cant hurt him) when shes been there the whole time and she feels she deserves someone who actually loves her not just cuz the mother said they should be together. Angst with maybe open ending? Or sad ending idk. Lol. Happy ending? I cant chooose. Lol.

Dearest Friend: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Alcohol, Brief Mentions of Violence

***

You sighed deeply, knowing it was going to be another long night with your dearest friend. You hated that Azriel was hurting, but you were growing tired of the constant drinking and fighting. You dragged the large male out of the alley you found him in, calling out to Rhys to send someone to check on whoever he had been pummeling to a pulp when you found him.

“M’fine,” Azriel grumbled, pushing himself off of you to stumble down the road.

“I know you are. I am just helping,” you explained, used to the difficult task of getting him home. You brought him to the townhouse, as he was in no state to fly the two of you up to the House if Wind. He got angry when he was here, remembering the early stages of his feelings for Elain.

“I want to go home,” he protested, stopping in the doorway. You grabbed his hands and pulled him gently inside, shutting the door behind him.

“We can go home tomorrow, Az. Tonight we are going to stay here, closer to the ground.” He mumbled under his breath something about hating you and this place, but you just rolled your eyes and continued pulling him up to the room he typically stayed in.

You felt an air of sadness wash over you, looking to see Azriel staring at a door near the end of the hall. You knew that was Elain’s old room, before she moved to the River House with Rhys and Feyre. You reached up and placed a hand on his face, prompting him to look at you. “She’s not here,” you soothed, heart breaking at the anguish in his eyes. He nodded, head leaning into the touch of your hand. “Come on.”

You brought him into his room, sliding off his dirty clothes. He didn’t fight you as you slid warm, clean sleepwear onto him, the anger exhausted for the night. You pulled the blankets over him and tucked him in, pressing a light kiss to his forehead. “Get some sleep, Az.”

His hand on your arm stopped you, the pleading look in his eyes already telling you what he wanted. “Stay,” he whispered, pulling you down next to him. You took in a deep breath before sliding under the blankets with him, allowing him to hold you close. You had been sleeping like this a lot lately, your back pressed tight to his chest while he held you like you were his lifeline.

You wish he knew how true that was.

You had learned the shove the pull of the mating bond down long ago, realizing that Azriel would likely never feel it. The two of you had been friends for a few hundred years, and he had never made any inclination that he knew in all that time.

He pushed closer to you, burying his face in your hair. “Why wasn’t I enough for her?” Your heart broke just a little more, understanding the feeling all too well. You ran your fingers over his hands, shushing him.

“Enough of that, Az. She has a mate, that wasn’t a bond you could fight with. It has nothing to do with you.” You felt like you had said the same things over and over, constantly reassuring your friend that he did nothing wrong. Elain had tried to fight the bond with Lucien, making her own choice to go after Azriel. Unfortunately, the Mother creates bonds for a reason and even Azriel wasn’t enough to keep her from her mate.

Your countless failed relationships proved that as well.

“I wish she had been my mate,” he mumbled, sleep beginning to take over. You ignored the pain in your chest at his words, knowing he had no idea his mate was here in his arms. His mate he had no interest in.

“Go to sleep, Az.”

***

You smiled at the male across from you, raising your glass to your lips. With the now-accepted mating bond between Lucien and Elain, along with a growing alliance with the Autumn Court, Eris had taken to visiting Velaris often. You had arrived at the River House to ask about the male Azriel had attacked a few nights prior, not knowing he was there. You couldn’t deny the slight uptick of your heart whenever you saw him.

He had asked you to accompany him out to dinner that night, an invitation you gladly accepted. For the first time the attention of another male overrode the underlying pull of the mating bond. You had rushed off to get ready, forgetting the reason you even went over there.

Perhaps it was foolish, agreeing to a date with the Autumn Prince. You were tired of being alone, tired of waiting for the bond that will never snap for your mate. Eris was handsome, charming, and kept your attention full on him. You’d never met anyone quite like that.

“You look,” he spoke, surveying you over his whiskey glass, “divine.” You couldn’t hide the slight blush at his words, heat coursing through you. No other male had ever been able to affect you with such few words.

“I’m sure no different than the ladies you court in Autumn,” you responded, a teasing lilt to your voice. Eris chuckled, sipping his drink.

“Truth be told, I cant say i’ve ever had the interest in courting any of them.” You swore your heart stopped, mind going temporarily blank. “No one has ever caught my attention quite like you did.” He was looking at your curiously, as if trying to find some invisible string that tied you to him.

“I could say the same about you,” you got out, taking a mildly too large drink. Eris smiled back,

opening his mouth to say more when Cassian burst into the restaurant. He caught sight of you immediately, striding over to the table.

“He’s bad. He won’t accept any of us, he’s requesting you.” He looked apologetic, awkwardly glancing between you and Eris. You sighed, unable to hide the slow anger rising in you.

“Fine. Where is he?” You asked, standing from the table. You looked over to Eris, halfway ready to tell Azriel to screw himself so you could stay here. “Im so sorry. Our friend is…not well,” you explained, knowing he already knew the situation.

“Of course,” he said, waving you to go. “I just expect you to take me on an extravagant make-up date when he’s better.” The wink he gave you had color racing up your neck, a small smile on your lips.

***

Cass brought you to the townhouse, a sure sign that Azriel was wasted again. “I didn’t want to interrupt your date,” he began, “but he’s losing it in there. Crying and screaming about Elain, destroying everything he can get his hands on. Rhys can’t even get into his mind to calm him down.” You knew how dire this situation must be if Rhys was willing to infiltrate his friends mind without consent. You prepared yourself as the door opened, peering in to the damage he had caused.

It was bad. Very, very bad.

“Az?” You called out, stepping into the ruined home. “Are you in here?” You heard a low sob from the living room, turning to Cassian behind you. “You should stay out here, for now. I’ll yell if I need you.” He agreed, willing to do anything you thought may help his brother.

You made your way into the living room, finishing Azriel tucked into the farthest corner. His shadows were going wild, racing around the room in a chaotic show. You carefully walked over to him, being sure to not trip on any of the debris. You knelt down in front of him, running your hands up and down his arms.

“Hey, Az. I’m here now. What do you need?” Your words were quiet, soothing. He slowly lifted his head off his knees, eyes bloodshot. You clicked your tongue at the deep circles under them, the sunken skin of his cheeks. He was destroying himself.

“Let me help you up to bed, okay? I’ll bring you water, do you want me to send Cassian to pick up some food?” He shook his head as you pulled him up, looking almost small. You gently lead him upstairs, an area he had thankfully stayed out of during his rampage. You once again changed his clothes and tucked him into bed, heading downstairs to get him a glass of water.

You opened the front door to see Cassian sitting on the steps, waiting for you. “He’s in bed,” you said as he stood, “you are good to go. I’ll stay with him.” Cassian nodded, shifting on his feet.

“I’m sorry again. We may have had disagreements in the past, but Eris is proving to be a decent guy. I think he’d be good for you.” Your heart fluttered at his words, that small smile coming back onto your face.

“Yes, well, I suppose we will see.” He bid you goodnight and you closed the door, locking it behind you. You retrieved the glass for Az, bringing it up to him.

“Drink,” you commanded, pushing the water in his hands. He did so greedily, needing the cool liquid after his actions that night. You took the empty

glass from him, setting it on the nightstand. “Anything else?” You asked, voice missing the normal warmth it had when he was in this state.

Azriel looked at you closely, eyes slowly taking in your appearance. “You look…nice.” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Yes, thanks for noticing. Are you good?” You were growing impatient.

“Why are you wearing that?” His question held a small tone of accusation, clearly unhappy that you were out while he was struggling.

“Honestly Azriel, do you take me as your mother? I was on a date, a very lovely night until you had to ruin it.” You couldn’t help the anger pushing out of you, years of being there for him piling up inside you.

“A date? With who?” He sneered, focused on the elegant but tight dress you had on.

“If you must know, I was with Eris. Now, do you need anything else?” You stared him down, focusing every emotion into that gaze. He began to shake his head, body suddenly stilling.

“Azriel?” Your anger began to be replaced by concern, the unblinking look on his face scaring you.

“You’re my mate.”

Oh. That. You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you at the injustice of it all. Centuries you longed after him, dreaming of this very moment. The very night your heart begins to long for another, the bond snaps.

Snaps while he’s drunk due to thoughts of another lover.

He states you down, unsure as to your laughter. “Azriel,” you sighed, “I know. I’ve known.”

He stood off the bed, the sudden realization sobering him. “This is great! You are my mate! This whole time, you’ve been right in front of me.” He raised a hand to your face, brushing your hair back lovingly. “My dearest friend, my mate.”

It was too much. You pushed back from him, shaking your head. “No, Azriel.”

“No?”

“I won’t be your second choice. Not when I have finally found someone I could be happy with, without the thought of you ruining it.” Your eyes filled with tears when you looked up at him. “You don’t want me, Az. You want her. You said it yourself, you wished she was your mate.”

His eyebrows furrowed, shadows becoming agitated again. “No that’s not what I meant, I-“

You cut him off. “Stop, Azriel. In the hundreds of years we’ve been friends, you’ve never once treated me as more than. You don’t want me, not like that. You never have.” Your heart squeezed tight at the devestaed look on his face.

“You can’t reject me,” he said, voice quiet.

You ran your hands over your face, a frustrated groan falling from you. “I’m not. I just don’t think this is truly what you want.” You looked up at him, standing tall. “I need you to want me for me, not because the bond has told you to.”

His shadows were swirling around, staying far away from you. The anger and hurt in his face broke you, but you stood strong. You would not be with a male you loved so deeply if he could not love you the same.

“Goodnight, Az,” you said, leaving his room and the destroyed townhouse before you broke any further.

***

I hope you like this!! I left the ending open, I feel like I always do HEAs so I wanted to try not not resolve the issue yet 🫣. Let me know what you think and thank you so much for liking my writing enough to request something ❤️

[taisho-era-secrets]

Don't look at me as I fumble some quick Rengoku fluff out of my pocket as I trip and fall. Listen, I've been a little sad lately (just a little, just a little) and Rengoku keeps me going. I also don't know if this has been done before or not but I'm still tossing it out here.

CW: Talks of disability, hard of hearing Rengoku. This is a sfw fic, savor it while you can. We're going right back to business after this.

It all came to a still - the hustle and bustle of the day, the work, the errands. The seemingly nonstop chaos always comes to a still at the end of the day as you lace your fingers in with his. The nightly ritual of just connecting was something that you both looked forward to, but as you lay here you couldn't help but feel this twinge that something was... off. Something was a little different this time around and it wasn't welcomed, sending ripples into the oasis that you had so desperately looked forward to.

Your cheeks rubbed against his chest as you looked up at him and noticed his gaze burning a hole into the ceiling, brows pinched together, deep in thought.

He was never really good at hiding his emotions.

"Kyojuro?"

"Hm?"

Blinking back into reality, he tilted his head intently towards you, locks of hair draping and bunching around his face. He tried to beam brightly at you like he normally does. But again, he was never really good at hiding his emotions. Your lips pursed, letting him know that you knew something was up.

He was caught. And he knew it.

"My apologies, I just..."

His fingers wove into yours tighter as they rested intertwined atop his stomach. You could hear the anxious thump of his heart as the fire in his eyes simmered to a calm ember and his muscles relaxed just slightly. Then those eyes wandered away, avoiding your concerned gaze as you could see the cogs in his head start to return back to his previous thoughts.

"Earlier... When we were making dinner, you said something to me... and I couldn't quite hear it," his voice was softer than normal as he recalled the event to you.

"Please don't mistake my concern, I'm not upset at you by any means, but..."

His lips pinched together for a moment as you could read the pain in his tone.

"It dawned on me," his voice started to waver a bit. "You already know that my sense of hearing is... not the greatest. I can hear you when you're close to me like this."

His hand brought yours up closer as his lips brushed against your knuckles. That worried look on his face grew stronger as if he was done fighting himself and had decided to sink into the abyss of his thoughts.

"I'm worried at the possibility that I may not be able to hear you at all one day."

You sank back down into his warm chest. It wasn't something that ever really crossed your mind before, but you could tell this thought wasn't something that just suddenly popped into his mind. It was something that was formed gradually over time from his insecurity.

"Not being able to hear your voice is... a devastating thought. The thought of my body eventually betraying me like that as I grow older is alarming."

You were at a loss for words for a moment; There was rarely a time that Kyojuro showed that anything was getting to him like this. He was usually able to power through his concerns, dismissing them as a waste of worries, but this one seemed to have festered for a while. That same fear he expressed was seeping into you as well. What if there was a day you knew that he couldn't hear you tell him how much he meant to you? How much you loved him?

Then it hit you.

"Kyojuro..."

His eyes came back to you like the rays of sunlight peaking through the storm. You untangled your fingers and lifted his hand close to you. The puzzled look he gave you as you pressed his fingers firmly against your vocal cords made you smile.

"You can feel this, right?"

His expression softened, a smile slowly tugging on the edges of his mouth as his fingers caressed your neck.

"Yes."

"You can feel this just as much as you can feel my love for you, and that's something that can't be taken away with time," when those words fell out of your mouth, you could see the realization hit him.

And there he was again, slowly coming back to his usual self as a chuckle bubbled out from his chest. There was a silent realization that he was rubbing off on you with his motivational speeches, but that couldn't possibly be a bad thing.

"That's very true," he smiled so brightly, the dewy wetness of his narrowed eyes sparkling. "I don't know what the future may hold, but at least I know that... and I can keep that close to me in my heart forever."

[oliversrarebooks]

Human Resistance: Inevitable

tw: brainwashing, mind control, drugging, captivity, dehumanization

Masterlist

Jesse was floating, floating for a long time in a state on the edge between sleep and wakefulness, warm and comfortable and safe. It was an agonizingly slow process that drew him back up towards full consciousness, thoughts and feelings returning to him.

He was hungry. That was his first thought. The resistance had been operating on meager rations for a while, constantly in danger of running out of food, and on top of that, he had no idea how long it had been since he'd last eaten. Even if all they had was canned beans and a bit of forage, he'd be happy to take it, just to quiet the constant nagging of his belly for a little while.

He was just about to sleepily roll out of his cot when he realized he wasn't in his cot at all.

Jesse flew the rest of the distance to alertness as he remembered where he was. He was in a comfortable, padded sort of chair, surrounded by smooth walls and a translucent window to the outside, just big enough to hold one person. He'd been captured, along with Zach, and brought aboard one of the colony ships.

No, it couldn't be. It had to be one of his frequent nightmares. But it was all too vivid and real, and as he instinctively brought his hand to his throat, he felt the thin band of metal, the alien collar marking him as one of theirs. Hand trembling, he followed the band around to the back of his neck, and he felt the spot where it fused into his spine briefly before pulling back in horror.

He'd been collared, controlled, never again to be free unless by some miracle he was rescued and underwent the same risky surgery that Zach had.

Maybe… maybe it was better…

No, they were trying to control his mind. They had to resist.

The pod's cover retracted, and to Jesse's surprise and relief, he was greeted by Zach. Zach miraculously wasn't wearing any collar, and he wasn't with any of the enemy, either. He'd gotten free, somehow, just like Jesse always knew he could.

"You came to rescue me," Jesse croaked out, his voice hoarse from deep sleep. "They collared me. I'm sorry, I couldn't stop them."

Zach frowned. "How are you feeling after that? Are you all right?"

"I feel like I've been drugged, like I can't be as terrified as I should be. It's hard to think. But what about you? They didn't collar you. You're free."

Zach held up his wrist, where a thin band of metal shimmered. "The scarring from my collar removal surgery is too severe. They've given me this temporary device. Our Superior had other obligations, so I'm going to take us where we need to go."

"Temporary collar?" Jesse's heart sank. Zach was under their control after all -- he'd been stupid to hope for different. But still… "If it's temporary, it can be removed, right?" Jesse glanced around to make sure none of the aliens were in the immediate vicinity. "And if you can remove it, that means you might be able to escape."

"Jesse." His face was sad and serious as he put a hand on Jesse's shoulder. "It's over."

"What? No, it's not over!" Jesse shrugged off the hand. "We can't just surrender like this. If they haven't given you a real collar yet, you could escape. You could get back and let the others know where we --"

"Get back to where?"

"To the resistance!"

"And do what?" Zach's eyes were hard. "There's hardly any of us left, Jesse, you know that. We have barely any food, much less weapons. We go back to the resistance and drag it out a few more weeks, just barely surviving, only to end up back here a third time?"

"You can't mean that."

"I'm sorry. I really am. But I've realized now that being a leader means knowing when it's over."

The worst part about what Zach was saying was that Jesse could hardly deny it. He'd thought the same. Jesse had heard the whispers growing louder. He'd been in the strategy meetings that went nowhere because they didn't have enough people or weapons or supplies to carry out a meaningful attack on any of the enemies' larger ships. Lately, they'd barely had enough to ambush the tiniest of transport crafts, save a handful of humans. And so many had simply given up and walked out into the enemy territory. Not to mention those who had taken an even more final way out.

"It can't be over." Jesse had never had a plan for his life. The resistance was the first thing that he'd really cared about, the first place where he'd felt like he'd belonged.

"There might be other groups of resistance fighters still out there. Maybe they'll succeed some day and free us all," said Zach. "But it won't be us. I'm sorry. It's over."

"I'm not just going to accept that. Not even from you." Jesse backed away from Zach, looking around to see if any of the enemy were paying attention. "If you won't even try to get out, then I will."

"You can't --"

As Zach began to march away, a shock came over his body, freezing him in place and dazing his mind. It was like being stunned with a taser, except that there was no pain, just disorientation. The drumbeat of comply - comply - comply rang in his head.

"You can't just leave. Not with one of their collars." Zach had his hands on Jesse's shoulders, guiding him back. "They can detect if you're doing something unauthorized."

"Oh, fuck this," said Jesse. He slammed his fist into one of the pods, not even making a dent. None of the aliens seemed to even notice. He hit it again, and again, and again, until his hand stung.

"Feel better?" asked Zach as Jesse stood there nursing his hand.

"No. What now?"

"We're supposed to report to the infirmary for a physical."

"I don't want some alien examining me," said Jesse half-heartedly, knowing that it didn't matter.

"C'mon."

Zach led them to the room's exit, and this time nothing stopped them. That collar had somehow detected the difference between Zach taking them where they were supposed to go and Jesse trying to escape, before he'd even left the room. He really was fucking screwed.

One of the aliens stopped them at the door, ran a tentacle across Jesse's collar and Zach's wristband, and opened the door. They emerged into a circular corridor with a narrow flat walkway at the bottom. Jesse couldn't help but flinch when an alien rounded the corner. It was reflex after so many years of training to avoid them. And now, he was in the heart of a colony ship, surrounded by the enemy for good.

"Infirmary's right next to the training area."

"How do you know that?"

"All of the pet stations are laid out about the same."

Sure enough, the next set of double glass doors opened for Zach, and they entered a sterile, clinical sort of area. There were a few humans in examination chairs being attended to by aliens, and a few others on tables. At least one looked like they were actually getting some kind of surgery, just out in the open in the clinic.

Before Jesse could balk, he and Zach were each picked up by aliens and deposited in chairs side-by-side. A sensor was attached to Jesse's collar, and the alien was looking back and forth between Jesse and a sort of tablet it was holding. Jesse could only assume that some kind of medical information was being sent to the tablet.

Without warning, one of the tentacles jabbed him in the elbow, releasing another dose of the thing's venom. Jesse relaxed as that sedated feel stole over him again, his cares fading. When the alien next picked up his hands to examine them, he didn't resist -- even though he still knew that his docility was induced by the conditioning, the collar, and the drugs, it didn't help him fight against it.

The aliens clearly didn't care about human pets' privacy, because Jesse could see and hear Zach's physical. An alien was carefully examining his knee. This is overdue for maintenance. How is your locomotion?

"A little stiff and painful, but nothing like it was before my knee was replaced," said Zach.

Your Superior will be contacted to arrange for your maintenance.

"All right."

You will also need your spinal cord repaired where your collar was located. There may also be neurological damage from abruptly stopping your medications.

"I'm aware, yeah."

You and the new pet are both suffering from poor nutrition and sleep deprivation. You require nutrients.

Jesse turned his head to see an alien approaching with a syringe that was way too large for comfort, and even through his sedation he felt his fear rise. "Wait, what is that?"

Nutrition. With no further explanation, the needle was plunged into Jesse's arm, and all he could do was turn away. Zach was having the same thing done to him.

You will receive food. You will attend to hygiene. Once these are complete, you will return to your Superior's chamber and sleep in your pod for a minimum of three-quarters of a cycle. The old pet will guide the new.

"Yeah, all right," said Zach easily.

"Are those orders?" Jesse was trying to fight the drugs in his system, trying to get back some of his fire.

Yes. Those are orders.

Once again, the compulsion to comply and be obedient that the conditioning had drilled into his head kicked in, washing out his thoughts of resistance, at least until the alien started to tug his t-shirt over his head.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

Uniform.

The tentacles moved much faster than Jesse could dodge while slowed down by sedatives, and in a flash it had undressed him and put him in a soft, dark blue garment that was like a cross between a jumpsuit and pajamas. "What are you doing with my clothes?"

They will be delivered to your Superior's chamber. And with that, Jesse's favorite t-shirt was whisked away out of sight.

Your examination is complete. Your health information will be given to your Superior. Your medications will also be given to your Superior. You will now follow your prescribed orders.

"What, don't I get to see my own health info?"

It will be sent to your Superior.

Of course. He shouldn't be surprised. He didn't protest when Zach took his arm and led him out of the infirmary.

"Are you okay?" asked Zach once they'd exited back out into the corridor. He was wearing a uniform identical to Jesse's except in size.

"Other than feeling like an animal sent to the vet, yeah, I guess I'm okay," he said. "Are you?"

"Yeah, that was pretty routine. They're going to send me for maintenance on my knee," said Zach. "Only the doctors at the resistance base knew about this, but the aliens replaced my knee with one of their artificial joints."

"You let them replace your knee?"

Zach chuckled. "Do you really think they asked me?"

"Guess not."

"It was a big improvement, to be honest, even though it needs maintenance. It was starting to get stiff during my time at the base. I guess… well, whatever," said Zach. "They're making us get food, baths, and sleep, and I'm not in the mood to object, are you?"

Jesse was starving by now, and completely wiped from the dangerous mission earlier in the day and the stress of the capture, so that itinerary sounded just fine to him. Not that it would matter even if he were in the mood to object. Zach himself had driven home how pointless it'd be. "No, I'm not," he said. "What's the food like? Gross alien shit? Didn't you say it was replicated?"

Zach had been leading them through a few snaking corridors as they talked, barely paying attention to where he was going. He looked just as confident and at home as he ever had in the base. He was completely used to this, Jesse realized. At ease. At home. As though he'd never even left.

"Yeah, it's replicated," Zach replied. "They can make basically anything you can think of. The texture's way off, but it tastes right. No, I don't know how it works."

"It's probably drugged up, right? Or poisoned."

"If they want to drug us, they just do it. I don't think they put it in the food, but it wouldn't make much of a difference if they did."

They entered the cafeteria, where a lot of people in multi-colored uniforms were eating and chatting. While many of them were dressed in just a plain uniform, a lot of them had embellishments like sparkling hair decorations and flashy jewelry. They were laughing and talking freely, and Jesse hated that they all looked so happy.

Zach approached a row of purple machines on the far wall, picking up a tray and placing it in a window in one of the machines. "This interfaces with your collar. All you have to do is decide what you want to eat, visualize it in your mind, and it'll replicate that for you."

That sounded too good to be true, but Jesse was starving enough to give it a shot. Food had been tight for a long time in the resistance camp. At first there was lots of food to scavenge from populated areas, and the rural areas didn't have much alien surveillance, so they also had access to farms, hunting, and fishing. But the aliens took more and more territory, installing surveillance and flying drones even in remote areas, shrinking what was available to the resistance. The resources that were easy to access had dwindled, especially since they had to move every time one of the encampments was detected.

Jesse didn't miss his old job, but he did miss food from before the invasion. It'd been so long since he'd been able to do something as simple as share a pizza with friends.

"Pepperoni pizza and a coke," he said, trying to imagine how it looked and tasted. The machine whirred and deposited his meal on the tray. The cup of cola looked normal, but the pizza slices looked more like a plastic model of pizza than the real thing. "You're sure this is edible, Zach?"

"Edible enough." Zach had summoned a huge plate of tacos, which had the same toy-like quality. "Try it and find out."

They sat down at an unoccupied table, and Jesse experimentally lifted the slice of "pizza" to his nose. It was warm, and it did smell right. His stomach growled in protest. Across from him, Zach began wolfing down tacos like there was no tomorrow.

He finally took a bite. Zach had been right, the texture was off, a little too spongy to be pizza. But it tasted good, and soon Jesse was shoveling his food down too. God, he'd missed this. He'd missed having enough food to eat at all. It was almost enough to make him forget the strangeness of eating lunch in a colony ship.

By the time he'd finished, Jesse's misgivings about the food had quieted, and he went back to the machine for more pizza and some wings. When he got back to the table, there was a young woman in an orange uniform sitting next to Zach, her thick ponytail bobbing as she talked. Jesse realized who she was -- Nina, one of the runners for the human resistance, who'd disappeared on a mission around two months ago.

"Jesse, hey! Good to see you!" she said as cheerful as anything.

"Is it good to see me? I've been captured."

She shrugged as though it weren't a big deal. He guessed it wasn't to her. If she'd been here for a couple of months, she'd probably already been fully conditioned and turned to their side.

"We just got here earlier today," said Zach. "It's going to take some time for Jesse to adjust."

Jesse noticed that he didn't include himself in that statement. "I'm in no hurry to adjust."

Nina brushed it off. "I understand it better now, what you were going through, Zach. I can't imagine being pulled out of here. It must've been hard."

He shot a glance at Jesse before answering. "Yeah, it was. But I'm back now."

"So you defected?"

"No," he said tersely.

"Really? I did."

"You defected?" said Jesse.

"Well, yeah. Things were hell, and it's not like we really had a chance."

Jesse stood up, pushing his tray away. "We were doing our fucking best! We all thought you had been caught, not that you'd willingly thrown yourself away! You were one of the last decent runners in the place, and you just -- you just -- " He wobbled, dizzy from the drugs he'd been given earlier, his thoughts scattering. Maybe it was the collar, too, keeping him in line.

Zach stood up and pushed Jesse back down into his seat. "Calm down, Jesse. She's been conditioned, you know that."

"How does that make it better? They're going to do the same thing to us, aren't they? Or I guess they've already done it to you. Am I the only one left who think humanity deserved a better future?"

The cafeteria was silent around him, all eyes on Jesse, He could feel the eyes of the alien supervisors on him, no doubt just waiting to drug him and drag him off if he stepped too far out of line. But none of that really mattered, because the look on Zach's face was heartbreaking.

"C'mon, Zach. Don't you think we all deserved better?"

"I think that we don't always get what we deserve."

Jesse felt like he could cry. "Am I the only one left who believes the resistance has a chance?"

The silence was deafening. Jesse sat down again, defeated.

"Sorry," said Nina. "I know we were doing our best. I didn't mean to say…"

"Whatever. I don't care what you think," said Jesse. "I'm sure the magical brainwashing boxes will convince me that defecting is a-okay, and then we can be the best of friends."

"I think I'm going to go," she said, standing up. "Sorry I upset you. I'm glad I got to see you two again." Nina picked up her tray and practically ran to a different table.

"Are you okay with that?" asked Jesse.

"Okay with what?"

"She just admitted to defecting. She was a traitor."

"What would you like me to do, Jesse, scold her? Get her arrested? I'm not a leader of anything anymore, and the aliens certainly aren't going to punish her for doing what they want."

Jesse knew he was right, but it still stung. If less people had given up and defected, maybe they still would've had a chance. But it wasn't like they could compete with infinite free food.

Or maybe Jesse had just been a shit leader.

Maybe if Zach had never gotten captured, it wouldn't have turned out this way. Sometimes he couldn't help being angry at Zach for that, even if it wasn't his fault.

"We did deserve better," Zach said. "You're not wrong about that. You deserved better, a better leader than me."

"Don't say that. You're a great leader. None of this was your fault."

"It was my fault you got captured."

"I chose to go on the mission with you. It's not like I don't do dangerous missions all the time," said Jesse. "And without you as leader… I didn't know what I was doing. That's when everything started going downhill. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine."

"It's definitely not your fault. Don't even say that." Zach sighed. "Maybe this was all just inevitable. Maybe most of us are better off this way."

"You don't mean that. That's what the aliens are putting in your head."

Zach didn't look especially convinced. "Sure."

Jesse's heart sank, his appetite lost, and for the first time since they'd been captured, he wondered if it really might be the end of the line. He saw what the alien conditioning did to Zach the first time, what it was doing to him even now. They'd do the same to him. He could already feel it starting, the all too tempting urge to just accept life as a pet on a colony ship. It had to be so much stronger for Zach.

Who would be left to rescue them? To rehabilitate them, the way Zach had been? Who would have the time, the resources, the skills? And then what?

"Hey, Jesse," said Zach. "If you're done eating, we're supposed to be hitting the showers. We could both use it."

Jesse's ravenous appetite from earlier was gone. "Yeah, I'm done. Let's go."

They passed a kind of gymnasium on the way to the showers, the big round windows revealing people jogging and playing basketball. It looked bizarrely normal. "How the hell is there a basketball court on the colony ship?" asked Jesse.

"They copied a lot of human things. They were probably studying us before the invasion, too. There's a lot of random things on the ship like the basketball courts that they built to try to keep people happy: swimming pools, parks, theaters, things like that."

Jesse tried not to be happy about that. It wasn't a fair tradeoff for freedom. He had to stay on his guard and not let himself think of this as a home, or think of the aliens as benevolent. They were the enemy.

"Here we are." The double doors to the bathing area opened and Jesse wasn't quite prepared for it. The showers were all out in the open, surrounding a large bathing pool. People of every gender were lounging around stark naked with zero privacy. Jesse didn't think of himself as a prude, but he felt a little self-conscious about it.

"The aliens don't really have a concept of personal privacy," said Zach, noticing his discomfort. "It's something you get used to."

"Right," said Jesse. It wasn't like he hadn't been in locker rooms before. This just felt different somehow.

Zach walked over to a set of cubbies and pulled his uniform off. "Oh, I should warn you that the soap's a little drugged."

Jesse groaned. "Good to know." He tried not to look at Zach or anyone else as he took off his uniform and stood under one of the showers. There were bottles in various bright colors -- probably the soap. He would've loved to properly wash off the day's sweat, but he'd have to do with washing in just water. At least the shower was hot, with good pressure, and as he stood under the spray, he couldn't help but relax.

At least, he could relax until he looked over and saw Zach lathering up with some neon green chemical.

"What the hell, Zach? You just told me the soap was drugged."

Zach shrugged. "We're going to go to bed after this. It doesn't really matter. What's your plan, never use soap the rest of your life?"

Jesse wanted to retort that he wasn't going to be here the rest of his life, but the words stuck in his throat. "Whatever. I guess you're right. It doesn't matter."

The provided towels were enormous and soft, and Zach looked considerably more relaxed as they toweled off -- which made sense considering he'd just voluntarily doused himself in drugged alien goop. Jesse tried to push down the uneasy sense of betrayal, to see Zach treat it so casually after he'd survived all those nightmarish drug withdrawals. All that work was gone in less than a day, and Zach didn't even seem to care.

The uniforms in the cubbies were freshly washed and warm, and Jesse was pretty sure that his wasn't the same one he had been wearing earlier.

"Last stop, home -- I mean, we're going to our Superior's home to sleep," said Zach.

Jesse wasn't sure why Zach thought that correction made it better. He'd certainly noticed Zach becoming more and more comfortable with situation as the day wore on, and now he was leading Jesse through the corridors with an easy gait. Like they weren't prisoners. Like he really did think of this place as home.

Either they'd reactivated all of his old conditioning with terrifying speed, or it had never really left Zach, and neither option was comforting.

"Our Superior lives in a restricted area of the ship. We'll get a fast transport there."

"Do you have to call him 'our Superior'?"

Zach looked startled, as if he hadn't realized he was doing that. "…It's shorter than 'the alien who kept me as a pet.'"

"I guess it is."

The transport station was a bustling area full of aliens, humans, and cargo. Here was a small train filling up with people, there was a platform the size of a semi-truck being loaded with containers, over there was a little round capsule with a single alien in it zipping away.

An alien stopped them before they could approach the platform. "Location?"

Zach rattled off some designation. The alien consulted a device and waved him through. "Wait on platform G for transport 78."

Jesse glanced around half-heartedly. With all of the commotion, there was probably a way for him to escape if he were clever and fast enough. But he was feeling neither clever nor fast. Despite avoiding the drugged soap, he'd felt increasingly slow since the meal in the cafeteria, and the prospect of escape was less appealing. He'd probably been drugged after all, or else it was the collar influencing him.

A little car with just enough room for the two of them approached the platform, and at a loss for what else to do, Jesse followed Zach into it. It pulled away and immediately plunged into a tunnel that was dark except for a strip of dim light along the top. Even though the ride was smooth, Jesse couldn't help the feeling that he was on a roller coaster.

That wasn't the only reason his stomach was churning. It was sinking in that they were headed to the alien who had decided to keep them both as pets, the one who would easily dull their minds and blunt their desire for freedom. They'd be drugged and conditioned until their minds gave in, and Zach would be reduced to the state he was in when he'd been rescued, fighting the medics and calling out for the enemy. And this time, Jesse would be right there with him.

"It'll be nice to get a good night's sleep," said Zach, apparently not sharing Jesse's fears.

"I can't say I'm so keen to sleep among the enemy."

"It's not like we have a choice." Zach wasn't wrong, but his words felt hollow when he'd been so clearly content with going "home." "Our… the aliens' place isn't so bad. There's a big window on the ceiling where you can watch the sky."

"Aren't you worried, Zach? Worried that if we go there, we're never going to get out again?"

The pause before Zach's answer spoke volumes. "Maybe I didn't expect to get out in the first place."

Jesse didn't know what to say after that. The tunnels where they traveled were warm and dark, and despite all of his fear, Jesse felt his eyelids droop with sleep. He was so tired so suddenly, and maybe it was because he'd had such a long day filled with stress and terror. It was hard to believe that just this morning he'd been at the resistance base, preparing for his mission to scavenge food from a mall. As Jesse fought to keep himself awake, Zach let out a huge yawn, and Jesse couldn't keep from imitating it.

"You're tired, too?" said Jesse.

"Collar's kicking in. We're supposed to go to sleep soon, so it signals your brain to produce more melatonin, stuff like that. At least that's how it was explained to me."

"Great." It was great to know that the aliens could just knock him the fuck out whenever they pleased. He wasn't especially surprised -- he half expected the thing could shock him if he stepped out of line. Even that thought couldn't stop his eyes from wanting to shut.

The car came to a stop at a different platform, one which had far more aliens than humans. Before they could even get out, an alien rushed over to them and plucked them up.

"It's an escort," said Zach. "Our Superior is the captain, so he lives near the ship's bridge, which is highly restricted. Humans like us aren't allowed to go around freely without an escort."

"So we're prisoners."

"Well, we were captured."

"We were captured," Jesse echoed, still far too sleepy given the situation he was in. If only he could fight that collar, stop it from worming its way into his brain.

After winding their way down several identical-looking corridors, Zach and Jesse were deposited in front of a large round door. Their escort slid back, but stayed there to watch as Zach pressed his hand to a panel and the door slid open.

With only brief hesitation, Jesse followed Zach into a cabin about the size of a large studio apartment. The walls were all lined with shelves and the shelves were all covered with unidentifiable, colorful objects, a collection of some kind. Netting hung from the ceiling in several places -- the aliens apparently liked to use netting as a sort of hammock, wrapping their tentacles around the ropes. In one corner of the room was a pod similar to the one he'd been forced into for collaring. It was noticeably larger, and there was a rack with a few bins next to it. An alien -- their new owner, presumably, although Jesse couldn't hope to tell any of them apart -- was sitting in a net, screens hovering in front of its face, looking as if it were doing work. Everything was bathed in the orange glow of a setting sun, coming from the big round skylight.

But the thing that caught Jesse's attention most of all was the smile and look of sheer relief on Zach's face.

He had truly missed this. He was happy to be back.

And that meant Jesse was completely doomed.

You are home. The alien picked up Zach in its tentacles and pulled him close, Zach offering no resistance.

"Hey --" said Jesse, wondering if he should do something. He was far too slow to dodge as another tentacle reached out and grabbed him by the waist, more tentacles supporting his weight as he was drawn closer to the alien and Zach.

You have done well to guide your companion.

"Thank you," said Zach.

Now it is time for both of you to sleep. The alien ruffled a tentacle through Jesse's hair with what seemed to be affection. Jesse wanted to flinch away, but drowsiness was stealing over him again. Next to him, Zach was leaning into it, allowing himself to be pet like a prized cat.

There is a larger sleep pod now to accommodate two pets.

Jesse looked over at the pod in the corner and realized that he was meant to sleep there next to Zach. He glanced over at Zach, far too comfortable in the alien's arms, and saw no particular reaction. He'd probably been expecting this. The aliens really didn't have a notion of privacy for humans.

The alien set them both down on their feet and pushed them gently towards the pod. Zach walked over without hesitation, looking in one of the bins next to it. "All of my things are still here."

Your return was inevitable.

Jesse shuddered. Zach's old owner had just been waiting for him. Waiting for the human resistance to further falter, waiting for Zach to be once again captured. He had all of the time and advantages on his side.

Zach climbed into the pod, an expression of sheer contentment washing over him as he flopped backwards onto the cushions. It was if all the cares and worries of being their leader were wiped away and he could finally relax.

That was it, wasn't it? That was why Zach's return here had been inevitable. The fate of the human race in the face of impossible odds was far too much for one man. They'd thrust him into the role, trusting him, asking him to make the hardest decisions, plastering his face on posters and propaganda, and he'd gone along with it all, because how could he possibly refuse to try and save humanity? Zach cared too much, and he hurt too much, and Jesse hadn't really understood until Zach was gone and he was forced to try to fill his shoes. Even then, all he did was wonder what Zach would have done.

"C'mon, Jesse," said Zach. "We need our sleep. It's comfortable."

He didn't want to go in the pod. Some part of him felt that if he went into the pod and experienced the relaxation Zach was experiencing, he'd never come out as himself again, the point of no return. They'd both be mindless, adoring pets of an alien ship captain, lounging around eating replicated food while the last of humanity fell.

One of the alien's eyes bloomed before him, and he didn't look away in time. His mind gave in too eagerly, ready to be rid of all of those anxious thoughts.

You will be an obedient little thing.

"I… I will be obedient…"

It's time to sleep. Rest in the sleep pod next to your companion.

His shoulders slumped, his head pitching forward with exhaustion. "It's time to sleep…"

That is correct. You are docile. You will obey.

"I am docile. I will obey."

The hypnotic eye left his line of sight, leaving Jesse swaying in its trance, sleepwalking towards the pod. Zach's eyes were closed and his breathing even, already asleep in minutes. Jesse climbed in beside him and sank into the cushioning. It was so satisfying, like resting on a cloud.

Go to sleep, little one. The cover sealed over the sleep pod, and they were plunged into darkness for a minute before soft, pulsating lights filled the small chamber. They were mesmerizing to look at as they swirled and twinkled, and Jesse found his eyelids lowering, impossible to stay awake. A sound like soft rains was playing, and he could hear undertones of alien language underneath it.

He wanted to sleep. He wanted to obey.

They were brainwashing him in his sleep.

He just barely managed to muster up some alarm, lifting his heavy arm to nudge Zach. "Zach. Zach, wake up."

"…What…?"

"They're using the sleep pods to condition us. Don't you hear it?"

"Mmm, yeah, our Superior picks the sleep program for us each night. Don't worry about it."

"Don't… worry…" Jesse wanted to do something, to fight against the influence, but not as badly as he wanted to sleep. He was so warm and drowsy and all he wanted to do was close his tired eyes.

He felt himself start to drift, unable to resist, and then he was asleep.

Masterlist

Thank you for reading my whumpy daydreams! I hope you enjoyed reading about Jesse's last day of freedom.

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt8

Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader, Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

A/N: First I wanted to say thank you to everyone for all the kind messages I've been receiving, I keep rereading them and tearing up. It lets me know that there are genuine people in the world and that I can take a few days or a week to finish a request. Sorry this part took a bit longer due to the short break I took, I'll try my best to get the request I have out in a timely manner!

warnings: cursing

part 1 I part 2 I part 3 I part 4 I part 5 I part 6 I part 7 I part 8 I part 9 I part 10

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

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F1 Masterlist

A drive to Lily's that normally would've taken 25 minutes depending on traffic only took Lando 10 and I think the way he is flooring it right now has been the fastest he's ever driven in his life. I mean anyone could've easily mistaken him for Max Verstappen in this moment and rightfully so, my bastard of an ex-boyfriend and baby dad is an absolute dick for what he just did.

I get being upset that I'm pregnant and that my boyfriend right now is treating me 10x better than you ever will but actually spoiling the gender for us AND spoiling the fact that I'm carrying twins is on another level of insanity.

When we dropped Yelena off, Lily had told us she wasn't going to be expecting a baby pick up anytime soon. Which by the way, God bless Lily for just being able to drop whatever she had planned for today to be able to watch my kid while Lando and I dealt with baby daddy drama.

The blaring sound of a ringtone is what yanked me from deep in my thoughts. I picked up the phone to look at the caller ID before answering and placing it on speaker "Carlos, now is really not a good time". I said while running a hand over my face to try and ease some tension building up.

"Logan's at my place." Lando's knuckled gripped the steering wheel tighter at the mention of his name.

"Why is he there and why does he need to have a conversation with you present?" I questioned

"He told me to tell you and Lando to meet him here to talk to you but wants me present and he thinks Lando is going to kill him." Carlos started, doubt coating his voice as he talked.

"I FUCKING AM" Lando screamed as he pressed down on the gas pedal harder.

I’ve seen Lando upset and even angry before but what I was seeing from him right now wasn’t either of those, this was pure hatred. Lando was seeing pure red in his vision as he was driving, almost hit a pedestrian (who shouldn’t have crossed but people don’t pay attention to signs).

Now that Lando knows he has to book it to Carlos’ place instead of Logan’s he makes a sharp turn, which could’ve easily flipped the car if you weren’t as much of a skilled driver as Lando is.

"BABE! I KNOW YOU'RE MAD AND ALL BUT DON'T CRASH THIS CAR AND KILL ALL 4 OF US!" I screamed as I grabbed ahold of the center console

Something about the fear in my voice as I screamed at Lando seemed to get through this barrier of red he had coating him and he seemed to ease up on the steering wheel and drove a bit more safer.

-

Arriving at Carlos house, we were greeted with Carlos standing out front. Lando and I got out of the car and started making our way to the front door of Carlos' luxurious house while Carlos started walking towards us, meeting us halfway.

"Ay, I talk to Logan. He meant no harm pero I think he did. He is in the living room." Carlos said as he patted Lando's tense shoulder before turning his attention to me. "I'm so sorry Logan did what he did. I feel so bad but just know that I'm here for you with whatever you need." Carlos added while he pulled me into a hug.

I've always loved Carlos' hugs because of the level of comfort they always brought was just unmatched. If you're sad, have a Carlos hug, if you're happy, have a Carlos hug, if you don't want a hug, have a Carlos hug. Moral of the story: a Carlos hug can fix everything. Well, almost everything.

"Thank you Carlos, I really needed that hug. I just-" The sound of glass breaking is what caused me to stop mid-sentence and I turned to look over at my boyfriend, only to find him no where in sight.

My heart dropped to my feet when I was met with no sign of my boyfriend and all I could hear from a distance was arguing. Carlos wasted no time in spinning on his heels and running into his house and into the living room where all the arguing was taking place.

"I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY IN YOUR MIND, YOU THOUGHT IT WAS OKAY TO SPOIL A FUCKING GENDER REVEAL BY POSTING IT ON INSTAGRAM AND ON TOP OF THAT SPOILING THE FACT THAT WE'RE HAVING FUCKING TWINS!!!" the voice of Lando booming louder as I inched closer to Carlos' living room.

"I DID IT BECAUSE YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME! YOU TOOK MY BABY, MY LIFE, MY GIRL, YOU TOOK IT ALL! I HAVE NOTHING TO LIVE FOR!" Logan shouted in rebuttal, his face contorted in a way I've never seen before and his skin as red as a tomato.

When our eyes locked, I could see Logan's eyes soften but when he opened his mouth to say something, Lando cut him off.

"I DIDN'T 'TAKE' YOUR GIRL, I SHOWED HER WHAT IT'S LIKE TO LIVE IN A HOUSE WHERE SHE DIDN'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT DOING SOMETHING WRONG WITH HER EVERY MOVE. I SHOWED HER WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE IN A HAPPY AND HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP, I SHOWED HER WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE LOVED BY A REAL MAN! I SHOWED HER EVERYTHING YOU COULDN'T AND YOU KNOW WHY? BECAUSE YOU'RE A COWARD!" that seemed to set Logan off because the second the word "coward" came spilling out of Lando's mouth, Logan lunged towards him in an angry manner.

Before they could make any type of contact, Carlos was in the middle trying to set some type of boundaries between them.

"YOU GUYS ARE NOT FIGHTING IN MY HOUSE! LOGAN, OUT NOW! BEFORE I CALL THE COPS!" That seemed to be enough for Logan to walk away but not before stopping in front of me, his face so close to mine I could feel his breath against my skin.

"I hope I never see you again until your fucking funeral, slut." Logan walked away brushing his shoulder past mine as he did.

I knew Logan felt some type of way towards me since I left him while I was pregnant and refused to give in to all his promises of being a better man for me but hearing those words coming out of his mouth hurt. I always hoped we would be able to work it out for the sake of Yelena but after what he said, I don't know if we can, even if I wanted to.

Everything after what Logan said was blur, I don't remember him leaving, I don't remember Lando running after him and Carlos after Lando, but more importantly, I don't remember my legs giving out under my weight and me collapsing to the ground.

All at once everything started to hit me like a semi-truck. The pain in my knees after the fall, the ache in my heart but also the excruciating pain in my abdomen.

"BABE?! BABY ARE YOU OKAY? CARLOS GET THE CAR STARTED! WE HAVE TO TAKE Y/N TO THE HOSPITAL!"

-

The whole car ride to the hospital had to be the worst 15 minutes of my life. Every bump or sudden brake of the car increased the pain in my abdomen by 10. At one point it literally felt like there was an elephant sitting on me, restricting my oxygen intake.

When we finally arrived, Carlos quickly parked in front of the ER doors before rushing inside. Less than 30 seconds after running into the hospital, a group of doctors and nurses came running outside with a gurney.

Seeing them, Lando swung the car door open and quickly got out, allowing them better access to get to me.

Getting transferred from the back seat of the car to the gurney hurt just as suspected but they quickly rushed me in so they could evaluate my symptoms to tell me what's wrong.

No matter how much pain medication they gave me, the pain was still too much to bear.

"Do you want us to give you something to sedate you?" The student doctor said. She sounded genuinely hurt at hearing how much pain I was in.

"YES! PLEASE, I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE!" I screamed and I watched as she grabbed the vile of liquid.

Just as the student doctor was done giving me the sedative, I heard the doctor come in.

"So, unfortunately I've got some ba-AH NO! WHAT DID YOU GIVE HER?"

"I- Uh, Gave her a sedative?"

"YOU'RE NEVER SUPPOSED TO DO THAT WITHOUT CONSULTING ME! THE SEDATIVE IS GOING TO DO MORE HARM THAN GOOD!" that was all I heard before slipping into unconsciousness.

-

After I fell unconscious and was of no use, my doctor made his way to the waiting room to have a talk with Lando in order to figure out the steps going forward.

Once Lando locked eyes with the doctor, he shot up from his seat "Doc, how is she??" Lando asked as he searched the doctors face for answers.

"Unfortunately your girlfriend has a rare condition that affects the babies called Monochorionic Twins, which is where the babies share the same placenta and amniotic sac which can cause tangling of umbilical cords, imbalance of nutrients, blood and problems to other vital organs. Your girlfriend also has a history of major bleeding, vomiting and dehydration during pregnancy which also puts her at risk. We have to operate to save them, the babies have a 25% chance of survival and would have to be in the NICU for many months whereas your girlfriend has a 75% of surviving with minimal damage to any part of her reproductive system. " the doctor started, he tried to look and sound as sympathetic as possible.

"What are you saying Doc?" Lando asked, his breath and hands shaky and his knees trembled beneath him.

"You have to choose who we save, your babies or your girlfriend."

-

Again, thank you guys so much for the overwhelming amount of support I've received in the past few days. I appreciate and love each and every single one of you guys and I hope you enjoy this part.

Unfortunately this series is coming to an end soon but I really don't want to say goodbye to it yet.

taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal @eddieharrington @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi @Ggasly.p @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan @styl1shl1v

[roger-that-cap]

seven summers

bradley bradshaw x fem! reader

this my first fic in what feels like a century for a completely different fandom. i have been gathering up the courage to do this again, and i've been sitting on this for about two months now. take it easy on me y'all i feel like a sixty year old veteran re-enlisting right now and i have NO idea how to reload my weapon

warnings: absolutely none! well theyre a little sad for a minute but nothing that tumblr can't handle

word count: 5.9k

Loud spaces weren’t really in your list of favorite places. You could tolerate bars more than you could do clubs, though, and your best friend took that into consideration when she planned the night out for you two. The music was loud and the people were starting to get rowdy, but at least no one was grinding on you or begging for a dance. That was always when you would wrap it up for the night, shaking your head at even thinking that it was a good idea. 

“Thank you,” you told the bartender, an exceptionally gorgeous older woman who always seemed to have a meddling look on her face. Her hair was lightly waved around her face as she looked you up and down for a second. You thought she was going to say something, but she just nodded at you once with a small smile before you turned away again, facing the crowd of people you were about to delve back into. You were just leaving the bar top with a soda (you were the DD, as always) when you tripped over someone else’s huge shoe. 

“Oh, shit,” a manly voice said as you tripped, and hands caught your arm before you fell over all the way. You looked up and saw a blond man in an achingly familiar navy uniform looking down at you, and your eyes narrowed as his eyes grew wide. “I’m sorry.” 

His uniform nearly brought you to a scene of painful flashbacks. You knew you were bound to run into attractive men in uniforms so close to a base, but there was an air about this man that made you feel like you were almost running right through the mist, right through the shadow of a man that you once knew, and a man that wore that very same uniform as he walked away. 

You loved Alexandra, your friend you met through other friends. The only downside was that she was in the Navy, and that meant that you were almost always surrounded with memories of your ex boyfriend when you were with her. Him and that stupid uniform that stole him away. 

“No worries,” you said after a few seconds, smiling at him. “It’s crowded here.” 

“Oh, nice tattoo,” he said, and your hand immediately went to your collarbone, where the one tattoo you had rested. It was a nicely done tattoo of a honeybee, a mark of your past. Something you probably should have gotten removed, but every time you tried to convince yourself, you gave another reason to not get it removed. Deep down, you knew why you couldn’t go through with it.

“Thank you, I got it a while ago.” That was all you could say as memories flashed in your mind, but you managed to smile. 

“You look really familiar,” he said, and you noticed that he also had an air of confidence to him as well as familiarity. He was an attractive man, almost too perfect. And he had a smile that you knew lured girls in far too often to be completely innocent. 

“I’m kinda new to the area,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “Maybe we’ve run into each other at the grocery store or something? Or if you’re a frequent flier at the hospital.” That happened a lot. People you had never had as your own patients would sometimes recognize you, especially if they were often there. 

“Yeah, maybe.” He looked you up and down one more time, almost like he was genuinely trying to figure out what his own mind was trying to remind him, before he nodded his head at you with a small smirk and a toothpick between his lips and left just as quickly as he came. And then your friend was taking his place, jabbering on about something as you tried to clear your own head. 

You never wanted to be one of those people that lived in the past, and for the most part, you weren’t. You lived in the moment. You loved to make new memories, find new things to do, and meet new people. You loved meeting new people. However, the problem with meeting new people, especially men, was that there was that one guy from that one specific relationship that you had gotten yourself in that made it feel like everything was all for nothing. 

Bradley Bradshaw. 

You didn’t even know exactly what it was. You had been in plenty of summer flings that were passionate and fun, but you got over them easily enough. You had met so many people, loved and lost, and they all stuck with you in different ways that all felt sweet in one way or another. But Bradley? There was something about him that stayed with you in a different way. The thought of him kept a lingering taste of something distinct on your tongue. 

In a way, he was the biggest waste of time you had ever spent your life on. There were two years that you shared being officially together, but it felt like forever. You should have known he was trouble the second you saw that military-grade mustache, and the confident walk he always had. You should’ve known he would cause you some pain the second his eyes and his smile proved to be a deadly combo. You poured so much love into that man in a short time in the grand scheme of things, and looking back, it was as much of a waste as it was a privilege. 

For a while, you prayed for his return. He had broken your heart right before he left for his deployment, but that didn’t mean that you wanted anything to happen to him. You prayed for a while for him to come back safely and then come right back to you, and then that progressed into you praying to never see him again. You wished for his safety, you always would, but you never wanted to hear anything about him ever again unless it was saying that he landed safely back on US soil. After that, you wanted his name to be gone with the wind and buried with the dust of time. 

Either way, he was in your thoughts forever and always, regardless of how many summers passed or how many people there were after him, how many you had met to pass the time. And as you stood in the middle of the bar with Alexandra, you were frozen in shock as you realized that you probably manifested the very fighter pilot in front of you.  

He had seen you first. He was surrounded by attractive people in uniforms that you knew had to be his friends, and when you caught the eyes of the very blond man that you fell over before pointing at you with the angle of his head, your jaw dropped a bit. The man from earlier looked at you and slapped Bradley on his back, giving a blinding smirk before saying something to him that you couldn’t hear. 

You were sure you looked silly standing there, freezing up the second you recognized him with a pool stick in your hand. You felt all the tension in your body work together to keep you as straight as a board. You blinked when your friend nudged you, completely oblivious to the mini panic attack you were about to have, and you swallowed and looked away like it didn’t nearly hurt you to stop looking at him. 

You felt like you were drowning. 

“You’re not tapping out or anything, right?” Alexandra asked, narrowing her eyes at you. “We’ve barely been here an hour, and you already have that uncomfortable look on your face.” 

“What look?” You managed to murmur, completely aware that he was still looking at you. His gaze felt as familiar as it had back then.

“The one where you’re looking for escape routes,” she teased, even though she was starting to look concerned. “You do it all the time. Hey, are you okay?” 

“Yeah!” You said, way too loud to be normal. “I’m good.”

You prayed he didn’t approach you. He had plenty of distractions on his side of the room, lots of friends to talk to even though it was obvious they were trying to get him to go over to you. You were hoping that he would never come up to you or look your way again, but you were sick to your stomach when you realized that him walking away would mean he didn’t care nearly as much as you did. 

You closed your eyes for a moment as you tried to understand that none of what you were seeing was a dream. 

“Hi!” A woman’s voice from behind you said, and you turned around. You saw a woman in uniform smiling politely at both you and Alex, and you assumed that she knew her, but then her attention was on you. “I’m sorry, I just had to come over and say I love your dress.” 

You were a simple creature, and one of your fatal flaws was that you were exceptionally friendly. That easily, the tension left your body as you spoke to the woman. You smiled kindly at her. “Thank you! I got it at a thrift store, but you can check the back to see where it’s from if you want!” She grinned at you, and then you saw her eyes wander to your hand. 

“Oh, your ring is pretty, too!” The woman said. “When’s the wedding?” She joked, and you laughed. You wanted a big wedding, back then. Back when you could see the groom in your head, imagine the words he would say, and even imagine your first name combined with his last: Bradshaw. But that was nothing now. 

“Thank you! You’re so sweet. It’s from my mom though, she gave it to me a few years ago.” She gave it to you, her big, shiny ring that her first husband had bought her just as a gift. Instead of pawning it, you begged her to have it. It had no sentimental value to you at all. It kind of looked like an engagement ring, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take it off. It warded off men for the most part, and it was a piece of her. 

“Aw, that’s so sweet. I’m Nat! Most people around here call me Phoenix.” 

You grinned at her and shook her hand before telling her your name, and you knew right then that you liked her. She was extroverted, but very polite. Just your type of person. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” 

“You too!” She smiled at you before she continued her walk to the bar, and you didn’t think anything else of the nice girl in uniform.

The next few minutes went without any issues at all, and you felt like you could ignore the situation at hand and have a good rest of the night with Alex before it was time for you guys to head home. 

“Hey.” 

You weren’t hearing his voice. You just weren’t. You made your next shot in the game and ignored him. 

You could feel him get closer to you, so close you could smell his cologne. Your eyes watered when you realized it was the very scent you picked out for him all those years ago. He still wore it. 

You heard a very manly throat clear from beside you, and you realized that he wasn’t going to give it up. “Hi,” he tried again, and you breathed through your nose and finally turned around, looking face to chest at him before you looked up. 

He was smiling down at you. He was smiling down at you as if nothing had happened, and no time had passed. You smiled back at first like muscle memory, but then your face dropped to a frown almost immediately. His smile fell, too. He nodded at your friend in acknowledgement, but she was too busy eyeing him up and trying to decide if he was a threat to you or the night to know that he was being friendly. 

“Bradshaw,” you said, and his frown got deeper when he realized you called him by his last name. He hated that. You weren’t in the Navy and you had been together, you and he always insisted you reserved the rights to using his real name. Not his call sign, not his last name, but the one his parents had given him. “It’s been a while.” 

“Bradley,” he corrected gently, almost like he thought you genuinely forgot, or like you threw out his first name from your personal dictionary. As if you could ever forget a detail about him. That was the blessing and the curse that he left you with. “You look-” he stopped talking for a moment, and you could have sworn that you saw an ocean of fondness in his pretty eyes that shouldn’t have still been there. “You’re still so beautiful.” 

Your words felt caught in your throat. You wanted to tell him that his tan made him look beautiful. You wanted to say that he had filled out so nicely, and that his scars still fit his face perfectly. You remembered kissing them while laying in the summer sun and you remembered kissing them under the tiny Christmas tree you guys had bought together and plugged in. You were both so broke it only had about ten ornaments on it, but that never mattered. Never to the two of you. “You… still have that mustache.” 

“You always liked it,” he said, a small smile coming back into his expression, but you didn’t give one back. 

“So you’ve kept it growing in hopes to run into me?” 

“Maybe I have,” he answered, and you blinked at him. He had always had a flirty personality. 

You just blinked. “Uh, yeah. That’s nice.” Was it? It was opening every old wound you had ever had. Every wound that was partially healed by another person’s fleeting kisses was being torn right back open by one sighting of Bradley Bradshaw. 

“It’s- it’s amazing to see you, how have you been?” 

You were becoming more and more confused. How in the hell was he being so chipper? Maybe chipper wasn’t the word, he was being polite. Or, maybe it was that he wasn’t falling apart like you were. How? How was he managing politeness when you were hardly breathing? The thought that he would walk away from the conversation like it never happened made you irritable and defensive at the same time. “Why do you care?” 

His brows furrowed, and he was looking at you as if you were saying all the wrong things. “Because I care how you’ve been.” 

“Why?”

He took a look at your friend, who was still staring him down. “Uh, can we talk for a second?” He asked, and you pursed your lips together. 

“No, she’s good right here,” Alexandra said, and you gave her a small smile. 

“No, it’s okay, he’s fine. He’s big, but he’s harmless.” You saw his chest puff up in just the slightest at the mention of his physique, and you rolled your eyes. “We can step outside, but I’m not going home with you.” 

“Okay!” He said, a little too loud for the setting, and you fought back a smile at how excited he was just to talk. You squashed the fondness down. “Okay, uh, come with me.” 

The second your foot hit the gravel outside, his fingers were touching yours. The touch was innocent, but you still yanked your hand away. He backed away understandingly. “Force of habit, sorry.” 

And it was. You remembered his little quirks. You were always pretty independent, and he had always been touchy and protective, so the compromise back then was that he would lay off while you were inside of a building, but he would hold your hand and guide you all he wanted to the second you walked outside. 

“I- uh, I wanted to talk about us.” 

“The past?” You said, crossing your arms. 

“We’ve known each other for a long time,” he said slowly, like he was just then realizing he was treading on very thin ice. 

“We knew each other,” you corrected, fully aware of your friend piecing the situation together by the expression on her face, and you gave her a look that held promises of filling her in. 

“Don’t be like that,” he said, coming a little closer, and you felt your eyes burn when you smelled his familiar scent even more. Your tradition of buying men cologne that matched their personalities had died after Bradley. It was something you didn’t really understand why you did it yourself, but it was fun, and Bradley loved it. He was the fourth guy you had done it with, and he was the last. It just didn’t feel right with anyone else, and it was simply something else you kissed goodbye when you and Bradley went your separate ways. 

“I’m not being any certain way.” 

“I would definitely say that we know each other,” he said, a short chuckle dying on his lips, and you could hear the hurt in his voice.  “We were together nearly every day for two years. We’d sit on the river and on the beach and talk about everything for hours. We road-tripped cross-country. I remember everything you ever told me back home, and I remember the last summer we had together like it was yesterday.” 

You looked back up at him with eyes that you knew had to be full of sadness. “That was four summers ago.” 

You saw it set in with him how much time really had gone by. You watched his eyes widen and his lips poke outwards as he breathed out. “Wow.” 

Had time really not passed for him as slowly as it did to you? 

All you could do was swallow and turn your head away from the breeze. “Yeah.” 

“Do you have a boyfriend now?” 

Part of you was so thrown by his question and his lack of tact, especially because he had been such a good flirt back then. Maybe time had changed him. “I’m married.” 

Immediately, he shook his head with a small smile. “You’re not.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, even though you were enjoying the back and forth. It felt so familiar. “How would you know that?” 

“That was the first thing I checked before I came over,” he admitted, and you cocked your head at him. “I looked at your finger and saw the ring before you even noticed me. And then I asked Phoenix to go over to you and make sure it was what I thought it was, and I was right.” 

You gasped. You should have known that that stupid nickname was a damn callsign, the glaring beacon of a person that meant that they were a pilot. And pilots were… they were hard to love. 

“I knew that if I came over to you, there would be no way I could hold my tongue from trying to win you back, so I had to make sure you weren’t married first, at least. But I’m not even sure that would’ve stopped me,” he muttered under his breath, and you rolled your eyes. 

You were still a little bitter over him sending one of his friends to talk to you, and how well he knew you. He knew you never would have responded to a random man the same way you did Phoenix. “How do you know I don’t have a boyfriend?”

“I’m praying.” And then he sighed. “I don’t have anyone either.” 

You would have laughed in his face if you weren’t so gutted. “I find that hard to believe.”

“What do you mean?”

“Considering you broke it off so you could run around and meet other girls, I would be very shocked if you didn’t have one with a ring on her finger by now.” 

His eyes widened to a size that was almost comical. “What?” 

You rolled your eyes at him. “Before you deployed. You know, when you broke up with me so that you could go talk freely with other women.” 

His facial expression was so shocked that you almost bought it. He looked genuinely thrown in a loop by your words. “I didn’t break up with you to meet other people, Bee.” 

You nearly caught whiplash at hearing your old nickname pouring like straight up honey from his mouth. No one called you that in a long time, mostly because ‘Bee’ was reserved for Bradley after a day he met you in freshman year of college, and you did an entire presentation on conservation of bees with passion that none of the other students had in their slideshows. It was what had drawn him to you in the first place.

 “That’s what it felt like.” It still felt like that, four years later. 

“No, no,” he said, shaking his head slowly. You hated how handsome he looked even when he was confused.  But he had no right to look confused. “That’s not what happened at all.” 

Your tone said it all for you as you crossed your arms. “Um, that’s what I remember, Bradshaw.” 

He ignored what you called him, but you saw it in his eyes that it still bothered him. “I cut it off because I felt awful that you were going to be forced to wait for me,” he said, taking a step closer, and you saw his sad brown eyes begging you to listen. “We were still so young, you were even younger than me. It wasn’t fair for me to ask you to keep waiting for me, especially because I kept going on dangerous deployments.” 

His words were bouncing around in your head. You calculated what he was saying, narrowing your eyes and trying to make sense of how it was changing your entire perspective of what happened, second by second. 

“Are you fucking stupid?” You blurted, but he wasn’t surprised. In fact, he looked relieved. You never really made a habit of swearing, not even while arguing, but when you rarely let a word slip, it meant that you cared a lot. 

Bradley wasn’t quite sure which way you cared and if it was in a good way or a bad way, but he was determined to change the passion to a way that would benefit the both of you. 

“If you want me to be,” he rasped, and you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Did you just say you didn’t want me to wait for you?” 

He blinked. “Yeah. You were what, twenty three? Your whole life was ahead of you. It wasn’t fair for you to have to wait for me to come home when you… you’re full of so much life. You had just gotten your dream job at the hospital, and you were so happy. If you were to stick it out with me gone, you would just have to decide between your job and me anyway when I got home. I ended up getting stationed somewhere else not too long after I came back home, just like I knew I would.” 

“Bradley, I told you I wanted to travel, anyway. That job was not my forever job.” 

“But-”

“I was prepared to wait for- for forever.” It was his turn to look shocked. “I really would have, Bradley. You just never even gave me the chance to. You pulled the rug out underneath me. You didn’t even ask me.” 

He ran a hand over his face as the weight of the decision he made for the both of you settled heavy on his chest. “Oh, god.” 

“I assumed you were deploying and you wanted to meet new people. I mean, I know that a lot of… you guys are cheaters. The stereotypes are true a lot of the time. I just figured you were sparing me from the cheating and cutting it off before it could get to that point.” 

“Oh, god, no.” He shook his head. “You- thought I was cheating on you?” 

“Well- what else was I supposed to think?” 

“I would never,” he said, using his hands to make a broad “no” gesture. “You’ve always been it for me, ever since we met. There couldn’t have been anyone else, and there hasn’t been this whole time.” 

You tried to mask the way you were falling into a puddle at his feet. “You’re so dumb.” 

“Is it dumb of me to think you’ll hear me out a little more?” 

You rolled your eyes at him, but your skin felt like it was on fire being so close to him again. “You’re plenty dumb, Rooster.” 

“You never called me Rooster.” 

“Well, I don’t know Bradley anymore.” 

“I- why are you saying that?” He asked, and his face grew even more distraught. “You do know me. Nothing’s changed. Nothing is different at all besides the time. I still- there’s nothing that has changed about the way I feel for you.” 

“What do you want me to say?” You couldn’t confess your love to him again. You loved him, a part of you always would, but you couldn’t handle him coming out of the blue and telling you everything you had secretly been wishing he would say to you for years. He was coming in like a dream. It was far too good to be true. “We got lost in translation four years ago and there's nothing we can do about it. Unless you and your pilot friends have been smart enough to build a time machine.” 

“I would build a thousand time machines if it meant that I could change what I did, I was stupid. I was so stupid.” He stepped closer. “But I never stopped loving you. Not even once.” 

A tear ran down your face, and that’s when you knew it was time to go find Alexandra again. “I-I gotta go, Bradley.” Before you could even turn around all the way, he took you by your hips and turned you back around, both pairs of your eyes wide mirrors of the other. 

“I have been haunted by the thought of you for four years now,” he said, voice as soft and gentle as the breeze, but the grip he had on your hips was so desperate it almost made you sob. “I haven’t even- I’ve tried, but there hasn’t been anyone else. Not emotionally. Not even close, Bee.” 

You couldn’t say the exact same. You tried and succeeded for a time, but they were never complete fixes. Just when you thought you were happy with someone else and free of the clutches of Bradley Bradshaw, he snuck right back. He ripped that rug out from under you every time without fail without even being present. That was your problem with each “relationship”, you were looking for a remedy and closure for a relationship that the next person had no idea about and no obligation to make better. 

But you had definitely been haunted by the lack of Bradley Bradshaw. He was there all the time with you in your mind, whether you wanted him or not. 

“This,” you said, shaking your head, and judging by the look on his face, he knew he was losing you. “This is a lot.” 

“Wait, don’t walk away. I just got you back.” 

“I’m not back, Bradley.” 

“You’re back in front of me,” he said, and you stopped turning away from him. “That’s all I could ask for. Even if you want nothing else to do with me ever again, I just want to stand here and look at you for one more minute. Please.” 

You put your hands over your face the second you felt your eyes start to burn and overflow with tears. You could feel his energy before you even felt his true touch, and the second you felt his arms around you, you broke down. 

“I thought- I thought you were so nervous a few days before you left because you were going to propose to me.” 

You couldn’t believe the words that were leaving your mouth. You had been so humiliated about jumping to conclusions that you hadn’t even told Alexandra about that part. You never planned on telling anyone that was the reason why you were so hurt, especially not the man who caused you all that pain. It had been sitting heavy on your chest, the humiliation and the sadness alike, for all four summers. You never planned on letting it loose. 

But you had already said it. 

“You boys get married so fast, and honestly, I was ready. I thought you were nervous because you were going to ask me to marry you, not because you were breaking up with me.”

 “Oh.” 

“It gutted me so bad when you broke it off. I thought it was going to be the opposite- I thought we were going to start our lives together and then you just…” you looked down at the ground as you tried to swallow back down the memory, even though everything was coming back so strong. “It was gone, that fast. And I realized I loved you a lot more than you ever loved me, obviously.” 

“That's not even close to being true,” he said, shaking his head rapidly. “You can ask any of the guys I shipped out with. I was fucking miserable the whole time. And I know you don’t know the new guys I’m with, but this new squad even knows that there’s nobody else. You’re the one that got away.” 

“You let me go,” you corrected, and he smiled sadly. 

“Because I loved you.” 

“That’s so fucking dumb,” you said, but you couldn’t stop yourself from getting closer to him. “That’s for fairytales, stupid.”

You felt yourself leaning into him, and he was letting you. His body language was inviting you in. You could see it in his eyes and you could feel his hands trembling as he moved them from your waist to hover over your back, like he was ready to pull you into him the second you gave in. You knew it was only a matter of time before you did give in, and the longer you felt his hands hover over you like you were stained glass, the more you craved his familiar, burning touch. You felt the pull to him like you were magnets. Like he was the sun and you were Icarus. You were the moth to his enticing flame, but he had always seen you as a butterfly. You were terrified to get burned for the second time, and fall from grace all over again. 

“That one pilot said he recognized me,” you blurted, and you felt his eyes on you even though you couldn’t look at him. “I’ve never met him before, have I?” You might have. You used to know a lot of his old friends. He shook his head. “How did he know me?” 

Without hesitation, his answer came. “I have pictures of you in my cockpit.” 

That was what threw you.  “What?”

“Most pilots keep photos of important people in their cockpit. It reminds them to fly safer. In the worst cases, it’s so that they can see a glimpse of family before they go down.” 

Your heart was soaring so high that it was breaking with the pressure of it. “You have a picture of me in there?” 

He had absolutely no shame about it as he nodded his head firmly. “Yeah, I have pictures of you. In my cockpit and in my locker.” Were you his screensaver, too? You didn’t know. 

But you were in his locker. It made your heart flutter and it sent you right back to highschool. “More than one?” 

“I have so many that my squad recognized you without me even saying anything. Hangman was the one who told me you were here.” 

“Oh.” 

He kicked the rocks underneath his foot, and then he was squinting back down at you. “You thought- you thought I was going to ask you to marry me?” 

Just like that, your soaring, cracking heart plummeted again. “You don’t have to rub it in, Bradley.” 

“No, it’s not that at all. I just- you would’ve said yes?” 

“Of course I would have said yes, stupid.” You ignored how his eyes lit up and turned your body away with crossed arms. He was always so expressive, even when he didn’t want to be. “But that was a long time ago.” 

“Not too long,” he rushed, and you shook your head. 

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, especially because it was mostly to get the tears away. “It was a while ago, Bradley.” 

“There’s no amount of time apart that would make me not want to be with you, Bee.” 

Your head swiveled to him upon hearing your nickname from him again. “It- it doesn’t just work like that, dude.” 

“Why not?” 

“We were stupid back then. We lived off of blind faith and a whole lot of hopes. It doesn’t work that way anymore.”

“We make our own rules, that’s the glory of being adults.” He took your hands and you faced him, and the hope in his expression nearly floored you. “Who said we can’t pick up where we left off?” 

You scoffed, even though you weren’t even close to laughing. “You’re crazy.” 

“Crazy about you, but you’ve always known that,” he said with a smile. “You’ve always known how to work with it, too.” 

For a moment, you felt a glimmer of hope and you felt the whisper of a smile come onto your face. And then you crashed again, and he must have seen it all over your face because his own smile went away and was replaced by concern. Before he could even ask what happened that fast, you threw your face into his chest and wrapped your arms around him. 

He held you back just as quickly, and you knew he had been waiting for you. He smelled like home and he even felt like it, and when you opened your eyes all you could see was that stupid, loud Hawaiian print. 

“I-if we do this again you- I can’t handle it if you leave me again. I couldn’t take it. Please, Bradley.” 

“Don’t you even worry about that,” he said firmly, holding you so close that it felt like the two of you were physically molding together. “If you give me the chance, I want a shot at forever.” 

You pulled your wet face away from his shirt and looked up at him as your heart raced in your chest. “Huh?” 

He stared down at you for a moment, and you could see in his ever-expressive eyes that he was thinking about saying something to you that was about to change everything. “I fully intend to become your husband when we’re ready, if you let me. Just the way you wanted, and the way I’ve always dreamed about. I’m not going anywhere.” 

The logical part of you knew that he was being ridiculous. Bradley was nothing if not overzealous, nothing if not reaching for goals that were just short of being unattainable. He was the version of Icarus that always managed to get back to earth safely by the skin of his teeth. He always put the cart before the horse, but somehow he always managed to get there. 

So, you knew he was being serious. As crazy as he sounded, he was. 

“Do you really mean that?” You didn’t have to ask that question. In fact, the words felt like acid on your tongue, but your heart pressed you to ask it anyway. 

“Nothing could get me to leave you again, especially not my own stupidity.” He was holding you even tighter. “I promise.” 

You were going to hold him to that with the same intensity that he held you with. 

*****

oh boy.

so this one i’ve been sitting on forever and i’m tired of looking at it, but i have nothing but love for this fic that is pulling me out of a writing slump. i wrote it out of pure love for rooster though so i felt like i had to share it!! also- this comes from two main things;

two songs (“7 summers” and “ ‘98 braves” by morgan wallen) and then me being dumb enough to get involved with a military man of my own. he’s been gone for a while so i’m manifesting he comes back soon. anyone who is thinking about getting with a person- especially man- in the military (i can only speak for the united states military bc that’s where i’m from), you better be tough. i know they look good. i know they have this energy to them- trust me i’ve been obsessed since i was like 15. way before top gun maverick. but if you’re gonna be stupid, you better be tough 💀💀💀 and if you need any guidance to being stupid, i’m always here!!!

if you’re new here thanks for stopping by and checking it out! if you’re from an old fandom of mine but read it anyways i love you so much, it means a lot. 💕💕💕

[charliehoennam]

aftermath.

A/N: nobody asked for this, but all I've seen is Will smut (which I totally love, don't get me wrong) but I need some vulnerable Will

Pairing: Will Miller x f!reader

Warnings: grief, mourning, sad!will, mentions of death, mentions of Will's military past and Tom's funeral

One of the things you've always admired about Will is his strength. He was always the one to put on a brave face and push on. The captain in him had the duty of moving forward and completing whatever mission was at hand, whether it was getting his team to the landing zone or grocery shopping day at home.

It was that very same strength he possessed that got him through the darkest times in his life.

Losing his war veteran grandfather, losing his comrades in combat or to the haunting PTSD that they tried to chase away with substance abuse.

Before you came into his life, before he realized that he was lost in the same fog of that purgatory of PTSD, shutting his emotions out is the only thing he knew. After all that time, he came to believe it was easier than having to deal with them.

It just wasn't a priority; a moment of tears he refused to share with anyone anywhere other than sat naked and alone on the shower floor.

Tom wasn't the first friend he'd lost, but it doesn't mean it made losing him any easier.

It was easy for him to plaster a smile and bury his grief deep down until he felt it was time to unbury it and mourn.

Getting to that point of self-awareness was a victory in itself.

It took so much patience and love and pain, not only on his behalf but yours as well, to help him to understand what he was really struggling with.

He hadn't realized it had gotten so uncontrollable until the incident at Publix - the grand revelation of the weapon he could be, once shred of his humanity, provided the cathartic acceptance of the fact that he needed help.

Upon federal investigation, the story they told was that Tom had been shot and killed in a tragic mugging incident on their consultation trip. Just a boys' night out gone bad.

It wasn't too hard to believe, given they were 5 foreigners in a country that wasn't theirs. The heat from the Feds didn't last long. Thanks to Santiago's few but faithful contacts, that investment was quickly brought to an end.

It's barely 6 a.m. and you're stood in the kitchen making coffee, still processing how this all happened.

Your black dress is simple but elegant and modest against your body. Despite the itchy fabric, you can feel the early morning chill soaking through.

The dripping of the coffee maker lures you into a whirlwind of thoughts. You watch the droplets of dew form on the kitchen window against the cloudy sky which threatens to rain.

You start to second guess the toast when it pops up in the toaster. You're not the slightest bit hungry and you're positive Will won't be either, but you have to try.

He hasn't eaten right in the past couple days. You didn't say anything, but you've noticed the few bites he'd given his food and the way he'd pick at it.

He should've been ready and downstairs by now, so you decide to go up and check on him.

Moving forward is hard for most people, but for Will, it's what keep the pain at bay. The problem is when he stops.

Like a tornado, he's left with the screaming silence and the damage it left in it's wake.

Now that he's home, the mission of bringing Tom home is complete, the hard truth that his friend and mentor is gone has begun to sink in.

You gently knock on the door as you reach your shared bedroom.

"Honey, do you want any help?"

"I'm good, sweetheart. I'll be right out."

You can hear him sniffle despite his attempt to sound as normal as possible. Unconvinced, you turn the knob and open the door.

He's sat on the edge of the bed wearing a simple black suit as he looks back over his shoulder at you with a Marine coin in hand, a gift from Tom when Will confessed about his therapy sessions.

You aren't too surprised to see he changed out of the formal military blue suit he had out on earlier.

The ribbons, the medals, the badges... He couldn't put them on without feeling the crushing and staining weight of guilt.

"Lat minute outfit change?"

The corner of your lips curl in an attempt to smile, hoping to cheer him up with a bit of tease.

"I was gonna wear my dress blues, but..." he trails off for a moment to swallow hard. "Just didn't feel right."

Without a word, you quietly walk over and sit beside him. You're not sure what he needs right now, but you don't want him to feel alone.

"Black is more flattering if you ask me," you speak up.

His beard twitches as he attempts to smile. He knows you just want to help him feel better. Yet all he can do is stare down at the gold coin.

"Five times... Five times. Five close calls. And he survived them all. He didn't deserve to go out like that. He just wanted to help his family."

You fight back tears as you listen to him with an arm wrapped his back as you press your cheek to his shoulder.

"I told Santi to get him in. I said I'd go if Tom was in. Tom didn't even want to go in the first place. He didn't-"

There's a crack in his voice which he catches it in his throat to compose himself. He sniffles letting a tear cascade down his cheek only to wipe it away quickly, hoping you hadn't seen it.

"This isn't on you, Will."

He nods although you both know deep inside that he won't stop blaming himself.

"When you told me you were a marine, I knew the risks that came with that, Will. Every knock on the door had my heart racing. But I decided to stay with you because I love you. There wasn't a person on earth or a God in the sky that was gonna tell me otherwise. I knew the risks and I took 'em anyways because not having you would've hurt more... I don't understand how fate works other than we all end up the same. What I do know is that all we can do is love our close ones and cherish the good memories you have of them."

With a tearful and silent nod, he lowers his head and rests it against your chest. His arms lock around your waist as he surrenders to the tears in your embrace.

The tears quietly trickle down your cheeks as you listen to him finally breaking down.

With your lips pressed against his golden hair, you hold him in your arms and stroke the hair on the back of his neck to soothe him for as long as he needs.

All you can do is hold him through it and he couldn't be more thankful to have you in such a vulnerable moment after having faced them on his own for so many years.

Just the feeling of not being alone was overwhelming enough, but to have you holding him and reminding him of the things that are easy to ignore in grief give him hope.

Although he feels he's coming apart, he knows that he'll have the strength he's always had.

It's different now. It's not the strength to bury and forget; it's the strength to heal.

With a sigh of relief after a long, vulnerable moment, he pulls away from you and nods, mentally assuring himself that he's alright.

Upon arriving at the church, you're greeted by Molly so you offer your deepest condolences due to the circumstances. Just as Will, you find that the guys have all opted to wear normal black suits instead of the formal military uniform and you wonder if it's for the same reason.

"Sorry for that," he sniffles wiping his eyes as he tries to regain his composure, swallowing hard with guilt. "We should get going... I don't wanna be late."

You remind him that there is no need to apologize and that he can take the time to splash some water on his face to help him recollect before leaving.

Frankie doesn't say a word other than to Molly and the girls, apologizing for their loss. Throughout the priest's religious ceremony of easing words, Benny's apathetic eyes are glued to Tom's casket set in front of the church between his military portrait and a beautiful arrangement of white flowers. During Will's heartfelt eulogy, Santiago keeps his head lowered as the guilt consumes him.

The grift and sadness during the wake only follow and weigh heavier during the long walk to the gravesite, lingering among the guests of the funeral like a dark cloud. It's only reflected in depths by the light rain pitter-pattering all around.

The military traditions at the funeral leave a bitter tinge of irony in the boys as they watch Tom's casket lowering into the ground.

Tess's happy big doey eyes are now swollen and red as she cries under her mother's arm, hugging the folded flag as if it were her dad, while Molly holds her other and youngest daughter under the other arm.

Looking over at Will, you see that he's trying his hardest to keep his strong facade as well as the boys.

You slide your hand into his and whisper to remind him he's not alone and doesn't have to feel alone.

With a gentle squeeze to your hand, he nods.

"You with me?"

"I'm with you."

You and Will - as well as the guys and Tom's family - are the last to leave, reminding Molly that you're more than willing to help with anything.

Will, however, lingers a moment to speak to her private and tells her about the fund. You can tell from her reaction, she's genuinely surprised and thankful, relieved to know that she'll be able to pay for the funeral.

Having called your boss the previous day to let them know you wouldn't be going to work due to the funeral, you take the rest of the day off to recover from the overwhelming day after the funeral.

The drive home is quiet save for the rain against the car and the windshield, echoing into the vehicle which you insisted on driving to give Will some mental ease. He didn't put up a fight. He was quite relieved you'd offered.

In spite of being eager to understand how he's doing, you refuse to burden him with constant questions and decide to respect his mourning process. So, you keep a hand on his thigh to remind you're in this together.

He doesn't mind it at all. In fact, he is grateful for your respect and your thoughtfulness. His hand rests over yours and doesn't leave until you have to pull your hand back to turn the steering wheel, but it finds it's way back onto his leg, warm fully welcomed by his engulfing hand.

As you're undressing in your room, Will's hand catches yours while you're unzipping your dress.

"Thanks... I don't know about you, but I'd say this weather is perfect cuddling weather," you share letting the dress hang loosely off your shoulders.

Will smiles shyly as if you'd read his mind and locks his arms around your waist.

"I couldn't agree more."

[fics-a-plenty]

Goodbyes Aren't Always For Long

spawn!Astarion x gn!reader x Halsin

WC: 1,264

TW: SPOILERS FOR ENDING, angst, talk of abandonment, mention to Astarion's past, "Daddy Halsin", not proofread

So I finished my first playthrough of the game yesterday, and I sobbed. Can you guess what I was the most upset about?

I have been wanting to include some of the other companions as background characters, but I'm not sure who to include. Who would you guys like to see in the future?

As always, enjoy!

"This is selfish, Halsin! And that's coming from me!" Astarion hissed, pacing back and forth through the rented room, seeming to be the only one no frozen in place. There was quiet in response to his statement, as the taller elf stood in front of the door, his eyes downcast.

"It isn't though, Astarion." You popped up from your place at the end of the bed, your body too heavy from the news you were processing through.

"It is!" The pale elf yells in your direction, though you can recognize the pain heavier in his voice than the anger. "You wormed your way into our hearts, into our minds, and now that we have the chance to all be together, just us, you turn tail and run!" His words once again turned to Halsin, who just responded with a deep sigh. "We've spent so long worrying about other people, about the world. Now we have the chance to focus on ourselves. Focus on us."

"I've had too many moment of selfishness on this quest so far. I fled from the Grove, twice, when they needed me most. I left poor Thaniel and Oliver when they were at their most vulnerable. I can't turn my back to the thousands of people that need help now." Halsin said, the slight shake in his voice would probably go unnoticed by anyone who didn't know him deeper. "I would give anything to stay with here with you two, to help find some way for you to feel the sun on your skin again, but I can't ignore where I'm truly needed."

"Here! You're truly needed here!" Astarion shouted again, finally taking steps towards the other man. The quiet sound of his name coming from your lips causing him to turn on his heels. "And you! How are you so okay with this?! You brought us together. You lead the three of us headlong into this love, and now you just sit there as it falls to pieces!"

"You think I'm okay with this?!" You finally shout back, standing from the bed. "You think i want to see either of you leave? You think I want us all to be separated after everything I've done for us, for the world?" Your words causing the two pairs of elf eyes to cast down, one in guilt and the other to hide the tears glossing his eyes. "What do you recommend I do in this moment, Astarion? Chain him to the bed and keep him here as some hostage? Keep him where he is obviously unhappy? I figured that if anyone was against that, it would be you!"

The meaning of your last sentence caused him to tense, crossing his arms over his chest as if to protect himself from the memories.

"Everything I did, all the battles we fought, and the people we killed, I did it for everyone to be free to make their own choices. So if either of you want to leave, then leave! I can say over and over how much I want you both here, for you both to be at my side, but if your heart is pulling you somewhere else, then who am I to stop you?" Your eyes shifted to meet Halsin's with a sad smile, mostly inviting him to make his escape if he truly meant to leave.

Astarion stood unusually quiet, his body tensing more and more with each step that sounded behind him as the druid walked to the door. His eyes closing tight as Halsin mentioned his damned Oak Father watching over you both and returning you to him some day before the door clicked closed.

You both stood frozen for a few moments, not really sure what to do with yourselves. The sound of multiple children's calling Halsin's name and running to greet him as he walked outside to meet the wagons that he would be traveling with floating through the window. It drew you over, pushing the curtain aside as you looked down at the people your partner had set off to help. While the sun hadn't quiet crested the horizon, you were still careful not to open the cover too much, not wanting to expose Astarion to any stray rays of the light.

The pair of hands at your sides caused you to lean back into the body behind you as a head rested against your shoulder. "And what shall we do now that 'Daddy Halsin' is off on a new adventure without us?" The two of you couldn't help but giggle at the nickname your partner has been bestowed with.

Your eyes slowly shifted from the large druid as you scanned over the line of wagons full of people. While you were happy that he was off to help people and follow his dream, your heart ached at the feeling like a part of your was missing. That was until it began to race, your spine straightening as an idea struck you.

"That depends, want to make a selfish decision with me?" You asked, quickly turning your head to look at Astarion's confused face.

"Do you know me to turn down selfish decision, Love?" His playful smirk didn't really reach his eyes, which still showed with curiosity to your meaning.

Halsin shushed the children down as he tried his best to herd them back into the wagon that would carry them on their journey, most of their eyes growing heavy from how early the caravan had decided to leave, wanting to be on the road before the sun got up and warmed the path too much. As the wagons began to move forward, his eyes moved to the windows of the room you three had spent the night before, hoping to catch a last glimpse of you and Astarion, not knowing when he would see you two again. To his dismay, the curtains were shut and still.

After hearing a heavy sigh, he began to move on with the wagons. Though he didn't get more than a few steps before a commotion behind him caused him to turn. His lips split into a smile as he watched you running to keep up with Astarion, who was rushing to the shelter of the covered wagon carrying barrels and boxes of food. A deep laugh rumbled in his chest as you bee lined for him, jumping at him and forcing his arms to rush to catch you.

"You didn't really think you would get to run off on a new adventure without us, did you?" Your voice rang out with laughter once he set you down.

"I wouldn't dream of it." The two of you smiled at a moment before he lifted you into the wagon with Astarion, moving to follow behind it.

"Except for the fact that you did dream of it, and you did actually get away for a few minutes." Astarion sassed, earning his a slap to the chest, "What?! He really thought we were gonna let him leave alone for a few minutes there!"

"And they were pure torture without you both." Halsin responded, placing his hand over his heart, "The Oak Father has smiled upon me and made our separation brief."

"Good save, 'Daddy Halsin'." Astarion smirked, sending the larger elf a wink before the three of you fall into laughter. The caravan continued on it's path towards a new life for many of the people in it, and while it probably wouldn't be easy, it definitely paled in comparison to anything the three of you has already been through together.

[adore-laur]

YOU MAKE IT FEEL LIKE CHRISTMAS

— a holiday addition to the dadrry universe 🎄

❅ ❅ ❅

Red wine is an elixir of reminiscence.

As twilight fades into dusk, you let the velvety Cabernet Sauvignon warm your bloodstream and bring forth memories of festive seasons gone by. Childhood recollections of sneaking down the stairway before sunrise, captivated by the magical scene created by the plump man who slid down the chimney. Wrapping presents while sitting by the twinkling evergreen tree, the stacks piling higher and higher each year. Baking desserts and listening to Christmas music, the scent of gingerbread mingling with the seaside air. All those moments were nostalgia happening in real-time, engulfing you until they unraveled like a ribbon box of wistfulness.

You're lost in a blissful reverie while watching Harry swiftly round the kitchen island. He's eating the last half of a frosted cookie and untucking his black henley from his sweatpants.

"You've gone quiet on me," he says, chewing with his fist raised to his mouth.

Your vision breaks away from him and refocuses on the entrancing flames in the fireplace. "Just thinking."

"About what?" he asks, reclaiming his glass of wine that he abandoned on the mantle shelf.

"How this will be our eighth Christmas together."

He whistles in a decrescendo and sits beside you on the floor. "Really? How are you not sick of me yet?"

"Trust me, you push the limit sometimes."

"Only because I love you."

You roll your eyes affectionately, then say, "I was also thinking about how emotional I'll be tomorrow."

Harry smiles as he begins soothingly rubbing your back. "You always get emotional on Christmas."

At the mere thought of it, you flatten your lips and look at him miserably. The childlike wonder you'll get to witness is nothing to shed tears over, but you can't help but know you'll feel the pitiful pull on your maternal heartstrings.

"I'm a mess," you say defeatedly.

"No, no, come here. Give me a hug." He instinctively reaches for your hand and tugs you toward him. "Bring it in."

You clumsily situate yourself in his lap and curl into his warm body. Your muscles relax, and the tears spill over. It's irrevocable.

"Why are you crying?" Harry croons, propping his chin on your head and swaying you consolingly. "Hmm? You break my heart when you cry."

Sniffling, you bury your face into his chest and mumble, "She's growing up too fast."

His throat bobs. "I know. It hurts me too."

"But it hurts, like, deep in my soul. Sometimes I physically feel the ache when I look at her."

"She's three." The featherlight touch of his fingertips trails up and down your spine. "That's still young, yeah? And we have a new little baby now."

"She's our firstborn, though," you say mournfully, staring at him. You remember exactly what it felt like to hold her for the first time. “She changed everything for us. It feels like it was just yesterday when we brought her home, and now she's walking and doing things all by herself. Where did the time go?"

"I don't have the answer to that, sweetheart," Harry replies, his eyes darting over your distraught face. "Time goes by too quickly."

"She starts preschool next year." You shake your head in disbelief and gape at him incredulously. "Harry, do you hear me? Preschool."

"I hear you." He looks genuinely concerned as he shifts his legs in order to hold you better, cradling the sides of your head to stop it from shaking. It's smart of him to do so since the wine is making you a bit dizzy. "Hey, I hear you. Always. We'll cry in the car together when we drop her off on her first day, deal? Right now, let's focus on tonight and enjoy Christmas Eve. Let's watch our babies grow up one day at a time."

More tears sting your eyes and nose like a thousand tiny bees. "Do you feel it when you look at her?"

His features turn sad, yet a ghost of a smile appears. "Of course," he whispers. "It's embarrassing the number of times I've teared up just from watching her simply exist."

"You know what always gets me?" you ask. A tender kiss is planted on your forehead as encouragement to continue. "When she brings you seashells. It kills me every time."

The corner of his mouth twitches. "I hope she never stops doing that. It melts my heart."

"She's so sweet. We're raising such a beautiful girl."

"Two beautiful girls."

You pout, feeling overwhelmingly sentimental. "I want to wake them up and snuggle with them."

"Don't," he says with a wary laugh, "or they'll be crabby little rascals tomorrow."

"I love waking them up, though."

"So do I," he agrees in a way so sincere that it makes you even more emotional. "Although tomorrow we'll be the ones woken up first."

You sigh dreamily. "That's true. I love it when they open their sleepy eyes and the first thing they see is me. And then they smile." To provide your children with a sense of happiness, even if they're not fully conscious of it yet, is the greatest gift you could ever possess.

"Being their first smile of the day is what being a parent is all about, you know?” Harry says softly. “Getting to see their faces look more and more like yours each day. Hearing them laugh and holding them in my arms. I always think to myself how lucky I am to be their dad."

Letting a teardrop fall, you finally succumb to the wine-drunk dramatics. "They love you so much."

It's his turn for his eyes to sparkle with emotion. "They're my girls. My best friends."

"You are everything to them. How they look at you and listen to every word you speak is so amazing. I can't think of anything quite like it."

Tracing the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone, Harry says, "They have my favorite parts of your face. When they smile, their eyes shape and light up the same way yours do." He hums thoughtfully and dances his gaze around your features. "Got their mom's nose too."

You wipe your tears and take a sip of wine, letting him continue admiring you like a work of art hanging in the Louvre. You do the same to him, obsessed with how the light from the flames flickers over his skin. Your lucky stars are definitely out tonight.

"I want you to get gray hair," you blurt, not even realizing what you said until Harry retracts his head with a bewildered expression.

"I beg your pardon?" he asks through a shocked laugh, reaching for his wine glass. "I'm only thirty-one! Good grief, woman."

Shrugging, you imagine the inevitable physical change. Maybe the one curly strand of hair that always falls over his forehead will start to lighten into an ash color. Or perhaps it'll start with his stubble turning a salt and pepper two-tone. Either way, you know you'll be all over him when it happens.

"It'd be hot, just saying."

"You're a dirty liar," he murmurs around the rim of his glass, his voice slightly muffled.

"A dad I'd like to fuck is what you are. Sue me."

Harry smirks gradually, his lips stained with a delectable shade of scarlet. "What," he enunciates slowly, "has gotten into you tonight?"

"Nothing," you say coyly. "You're just really attractive when you drink wine."

His pupils appear darker and more dilated as he stares at you intently. His cheeks are tinted with a flush due to the alcohol. Whenever they draw up in a smile, his dimples emerge, and he has genuinely never looked more kissable. Because his mouth... oh, his mouth.

When Harry sets his wine down and finally lingers it near your ear, his berry-scented breath sending shivers across your entire body, you're his entirely. He then speaks in a drawl that makes you tighten your legs around his waist. "I think this wine has gone from here"—he hovers his fingers over your stomach and then trails them up to your temple, tapping twice—"to here."

You swallow a noise of desperation. "I want you to kiss me."

Nipping your earlobe, he asks, "Where, baby?"

"Your choice."

"Sure about that?"

"Yes. Don't test my patience."

He doesn't say anything and promptly lays you down on your back, the carpet providing cushioning as your husband hovers over you with his hands placed on either side of your dizzy head. The room spins, but all you focus on is him.

He takes his time and leaves slow, practiced kisses on your lips, coaxing them open with his wine-flavored tongue. It's as clear as day that he's never lost his temptation. If anything, it's grown now that he knows how to get certain reactions out of you. If he nudges his nose against yours, you'll take control of his mouth. If he reaches for your ankle, you'll spread your legs further apart. If he walks his fingers down your inner thigh, well, you won't hesitate to switch positions.

Seven years with him prove he knows every instinct of your body like no one else does.

"Harry, we can't," you say when he starts rocking his hips. "I'm not cleared yet."

He stops and groans against your shoulder. "Shit."

The doctor hasn't given you the green light to have sex again since giving birth a month ago. If you're being completely honest, you're almost dreading when it'll finally happen because of how it felt after having your first child. It wasn't pleasurable, it didn't last long, and you weren't feeling the best about your postpartum appearance. Harry was ever so gracious and attentive, but, for lack of a better word, it sucked.

"Did I ruin the moment?" you ask, your skin prickly with embarrassment.

"No," Harry breathes out. "Hell no. Look at you, baby. I'm unbelievably hard right now."

"Should we... I—"

"We can just do foreplay if that's what you're asking. It's completely up to you."

Your tipsy brain thinks of one thing and one thing only. "Thigh."

His eyebrows twitch as he licks the corner of his mouth. "Hmm? You're mumbling."

"Thigh," you utter again.

"My what? I can't hear you over the fire."

"Harry," you grit out impatiently. "You know what I'm saying. Please, before the mood is actually ruined."

"You want to ride it?" he asks for confirmation.

"Yes. Now shut up."

"We have to be quiet, darling."

"I can be quiet. Can you be quiet?"

"With you on my lap? Probably not."

Looking up at the ceiling and taking a calming breath, you say, "This is so risky. I hate you."

Harry tuts. "Why do you hate me?"

"Because you're so..." you trail off, searching for the right word. "So alluring all the time. And I can't help myself when you look at me like you do. It's aggravating."

"Personally, I think it's just your hormones talking." He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. "The baby monitor is on the couch, so don't worry. We'll make this nice and quick."

"Fine. Okay."

He stretches his legs out while you position yourself over his thigh. Your underwear is already damp as you begin slowly grinding over the thick muscle. He's hard under his sweatpants—a sight you've missed seeing and being able to do something about it. His hands latch onto your waist to guide your movements, and he moans as his whole body shudders from the first sexually intimate contact he's had with you in a month.

"Someone's got an appetite tonight," he says proudly. "But we gotta be quiet."

A salacious thrill runs down your spine because of his determination to get you off. As you use his thigh and grip his shoulders, the fire beside you heats your already ignited body. He searches for your lips, his skin glowing, eyebrows pinched with pleasure. His broad chest provides support as you lean into him, feeling the pulse of your forthcoming orgasm grow stronger. You need it desperately. You're attempting to keep any noises from escaping, but it's been so insufferably long since you've felt him this way. Moans, whimpers, and panted breaths unabashedly break loose.

"Look at me," Harry says lowly. "What did I say? Do I need to cover your mouth?"

"You're making noise too! Don't—"

His large palm covers the lower half of your face, cutting off your sentence. "What did I say?" he repeats.

You narrow your eyes and continue circling your hips over him to offer some relief. "I'm almost there," you mumble against his hand. "I'm close."

"I'm so gone for you," he murmurs, removing his hand and kissing your neck. "You're something else, do you know that? Gonna make a mess on my lap?"

You whine into his mouth. "Yeah. Do the thing."

Harry purposefully flexes his thigh muscle, the movement putting heavenly pressure on your clit. It does the trick, and you come as he stifles your moans so no innocent ears hear, his own groans muffled as you kiss through the climax.

"I missed doing this with you," you whisper, grinding against him one last time.

"I know." He grunts, his body stilling. "I know, honey."

"And I love you. You're so good to me and our family."

"We're perfect together, aren't we?"

"So fucking perfect," you say as your eyes flutter shut. Every breath you take is heavy, your lungs filling with pure contentment.

"Let's get you cleaned up." He hooks your legs around his waist, and his elbow accidentally knocks over his wine glass. Dark red liquid pools on the hearth, the dying fire reflecting off it. "Goddamnit."

"Harry," you groan as he clumsily untangles himself from you and jogs to the kitchen.

❅ ❅ ❅

Your eyes shoot open when a startling noise resounds in the pitch-black bedroom. It doesn't register until your mind slowly fades into consciousness. It’s Harry's ringtone.

The bedside clock displays 5:39 a.m. It's Christmas morning. Who in the world is calling so early?

You remain still until Harry is eventually woken up by it. The mattress creaks as he stands and takes his phone to the master bathroom. You turn the lamp on, and after five minutes of incoherent mumbling coming through the cracked door, he shuffles out with a crease between his eyebrows.

"Who was that?" you ask sleepily while stretching your legs under the covers.

Harry silently paces before saying, "My boss."

You yawn and rub your bleary eyes, then lean against the headboard. "Wishing you a Merry Christmas? That's nice of him."

"No," he replies in his husky morning voice, blankly staring at the wall behind you. "He, uh... he asked me if I could come in today."

Silence pierces the atmosphere for several seconds before you finally ask, "What?"

"Three people have called out already."

You whip your head toward the clock. "It's not even six yet."

"Tell me about it," he says with zero emotion. “I don't even know what to say. I told him I'd call him back once I've woken up a bit more."

Harry is most prone to being grumpy in the mornings. You hate that he's in a sour mood before the sun has even risen.

"Just tell him you're not going to. We'll be getting jumped on in less than an hour to open presents."

He runs a heavy hand down his face, stopping it under his chin. "It would only be for the first half of the day. I can make it back home for presents in the afternoon."

"What are you talking about?" Either he's sleepwalking, or he's gone mad. Maybe you're having a bad dream. "Christmas is an all-day thing, Harry. It always has been."

He struggles with words before saying, "My work relies on me. I need you to understand that."

You're wide awake with irritation now. "Are you joking? You're on paternity leave. Never in a million years would I have thought you'd put work before your family."

The first nerve is struck, and it's written all over Harry's face.

"That's such a fuckin' low blow, and you know it," he says angrily. "I have always, always put our family first."

"You're sure as hell not doing it now!" You throw your arms out to the side and get out of bed.

"You're starting an argument on Christmas? Really?"

"Yeah, I am," you reply pettily.

Harry towers over you with a clenched jaw, pointing at his chest. "I demoted myself so I could be with our family more."

"Oh, don't you dare pull that card on me."

"I'm not pulling a card on you! I'm defending myself for crying out loud!"

"Lower your voice," you hiss at him. "Our daughter doesn't need to be more upset than she already will be when she finds out her dad isn't home on Christmas morning."

You struck below the belt, and now he's wounded.

Harry's stoic expression crumbles into one of devastation, his shoulders sagging with undeniable hurt. "Can you just listen to me?" His tone wavers with emotion. You immediately lower your defenses and swallow down guilt. "Please," he adds quietly. "I hate arguing with you. I hate it so much."

"I'm sorry," you choke out, hiding your face in your palms. "I didn't mean it."

Strong arms wrap around you, his hands spreading on your back. "I know you didn't mean it. We both need to calm down, okay? Can we sit?"

You nod and mumble, "Sure."

He lowers you to the floor and says, "Let's just talk this through. Tell me we're okay. Tell me it's just holiday stress getting to us."

Your head starts to pound from how deep your eyebrows plunge. "Why are you speaking like that? We're fine."

Harry's tired eyes bore into yours. "Because we're saying hurtful things, and the thought of losing you is unbearable."

"You're not losing me. I'm allowed to be frustrated."

"Then please let me know what's going on. I always have to remind you to talk to me; otherwise, nothing gets resolved."

"I already told you," you say while playing with the knotted string on his pajama pants. "I don't like how you're considering going to work instead of being here. That hurts my feelings."

Harry kisses your face and murmurs, "I'm sorry, love. It's early, and I'm in a weird headspace. It's all that damn wine we drank last night."

"Do you have a headache?"

"A brutal one."

“Same here.” You rub your temples.

"Listen," he says, "I'm halfway through my paternity leave, so I think a part of me feels guilty for refusing to go in, considering I haven't worked the past month."

"I get that, but can you understand where I'm coming from?" you ask, still being showered with his tender morning kisses. "Any other day, I'd be fine with it, but it's our baby's first Christmas. Look me in the eye and tell me you'd seriously rather be at work preparing food for rich people who need to dine out for the holidays."

"You know I'd rather be here. I always want to be here with you guys."

"Then call your boss and say you're not coming in. You can't always be a yes-man. You'll just get walked over like a doormat.”

"Am I really a yes-man?"

"Sometimes."

He slumps against you. "I don't want you to think I don't fight for our family."

You frown. "I don't think that. I will never forget when you demoted yourself. Yes, I was furious when you first told me, but then I realized how important it is for you to be present and bond with your children."

He hugs you and gives you a sweet smile. "I'll call my boss and tell him no. Only if you promise you're not mad at me."

"I'm not mad," you say, fondly pinching his cheek. "Now get your butt up and bring me some Advil."

He gestures a salute. "Yes, ma'am."

❅ ❅ ❅

You're woken up again, this time by a slight pressure on your legs and two little hands shaking your shoulders.

"Santa came! Mommy, Santa came!"

"Shh, shh, shh." You hush her lisped voice as you open your eyes. It takes a minute to become aware of your surroundings, and you find Harry sleeping on the bed by your feet, wrapped in his white robe and lying on his back. After your talk, he took a shower to clear his head, and he must have drifted off again.

"Can you wait until I get your sister up?" you whisper. "Then you can jump on Dad."

She nods, her messy curls bouncing every which way. You get up and wander down the hallway toward the nursery. Surprisingly, your baby girl only cried twice throughout the night.

Once her diaper is changed and she's dressed in a festive onesie, you return to the bedroom with her cradled in your arms. You're greeted with a barely awake Harry, who is trying to tame the wild beast. Playful growls followed by shrieking laughter echo off the walls. You could've guessed that she wouldn't listen.

His eyes instantly soften when he sees you holding his new favorite person. "Why is your little nose all red?" he says to her. "You look like Rudolph."

You pass her over before sitting on the edge of the bed. "She loves untucking her arms from the swaddle at night, so she gets cold. She's an escape artist."

"A cute escape artist," he says, looking down at his little girl. "Look how cute you are. I'm gonna eat your cheeks for breakfast. I'm gonna do it!" He pretends to munch on her chubby cheeks until her happy noises fill the room.

After thirty minutes of warm snuggles in bed and letting the sunrise peek through the curtains, everyone eventually gathers in the living room to start the day. Harry, now in a much better mood, immediately goes into Dad Mode so that everything runs smoothly and no one is cranky on Christmas.

"What can I make my lovely wife for breakfast?" he asks, dressed in flared jeans and a red knitted sweater.

"French toast and eggs, please," you answer, breastfeeding the baby. "Can you grab me the burp cloth?"

"Got it." He turns to his eldest daughter, who's watching cartoons on TV. "Lovebug. Come here for a second."

She gallops over to him, fresh as a daisy, and he swoops her up to set her on his hip. "Hi," she says.

"Hi, sweetheart," he says while fixing her loose socks. "Dad needs your breakfast order."

"Reindeer pancake!"

"And?"

"Juice!"

"And?"

She hums, thinking long and hard. "Cookie!"

"Uh-oh." Harry gasps, looking at her with wide eyes. "Haven't you heard? Santa ate all the cookies!"

Her face drops. "Why?"

"We left them out for him, remember?"

"But… but why?"

"Because that's the spirit of Christmas." He kisses her cheek and l sets her down. "Go organize the presents while I make breakfast, okay? No peeking. Behave."

Once the family has full bellies and excited smiles, it's time to open presents. Everyone has their respective piles stacked in front of their feet—some from under the tree and some from the four stockings hanging on the mantle. It's crazy to think there used to only be two there.

"Who's going first?" Harry asks with a steaming mug of tea in his hands. He sits beside you on the couch and carefully slides the portable bassinet closer. Her Christmas plans include getting milk drunk and sleeping all day.

"Me!" says your daughter, excitedly crawling into his lap.

"All right. Pick a good one, little lady."

She chooses a rectangular box from the top of her stack. "That's one you need to open with your dad," you tell her. "Harry, open yours that has the same wrapping paper."

He grabs an identical-looking present and helps tear open both boxes. After pulling out the tissue paper, he picks up a pair of white aprons, one big and one small, with ladybugs stitched to the fronts. You tried and failed to find ones that said lovebug, but you figured the sentiment would still be appreciated.

"A ladybug!"

You take a candid picture of her with your phone. "I know, baby. You and Dad can match when you cook together."

Harry squeezes your shoulder and whispers, "Thank you."

It's your turn next, and you choose a gift from Harry. You open a small box that contains a gift card to a local spa establishment.

"You deserve a day without me or the kids," he says softly. "I'm forcing you to not be a mom for a day."

You look at him while holding the card to your chest. "Thank you so much."

"Word on the street is that they give better massages than I do."

"Well, they've got some tough competition."

Harry laughs and kisses your head, then picks out a gift you've been waiting for weeks to give him. He didn't ask for it, but you like to surprise him. He unwraps it with a giddy smile, eventually pulling out two picture frames crafted from an assortment of seashells.

"I made them using the shells she's brought you over the years," you explain. "I hope you don't mind."

Harry runs a hand over his mouth as his eyes dance over the two pictures. One of them is from when his baby girl was born a mere month ago—the three of you in the birthing tub with him staring at you with a breathtaking smile after she clung to him. The other picture is from the day his first daughter was born—him sitting in the hospital bed while holding her with his forehead resting against hers, his hands almost taking up her entire body.

"That's you, lovebug," he says to her while pointing at the picture. "Look at how tiny you were. You changed my life and made me the happiest person in the whole wide world that day."

"Me?" she asks curiously.

He lightly taps her nose. "Mm-hmm. And look at you now. All grown up."

"Do I still make you the happiest in the whole wide world?"

"Every single day. We're each other's first smiles forever, right?"

She nods delightedly. "Yeah."

Harry hugs her and then glances over at you, doing a double-take when you bring your knees to your chest and inhale deeply. "Are you going to cry?" he teases with a smirk.

"No," you reply unconvincingly, clearing your throat and not-so-subtly wiping the corners of your eyes. "Okay, who's next?"

After more presents are unwrapped and toys and sparkly bows are scattered on the carpet, there's only one box under the tree with no name on it.

Harry crawls over and grabs it. "This," he says while standing, "is for all of us. Let's have Mommy do the honors."

The box is set in your lap, and Harry stands before you, bending forward to place his hands on your thighs.

"You're way too close to me right now," you tell him.

He glances up at you through his eyelashes. "I need to gauge your reaction."

You roll your eyes playfully and begin tearing the tape on the box's seal. Once you open it, your heart skips a beat when you see four plane tickets sitting on a bed of sand.

"Surprise," he whispers.

Mouth agape, you take them out and flip them over to read the tags attached.

Your tag reads: For my wife. Italy the first time made us fall in love all over again. Let's do it a second time.

Your eldest daughter's tag reads: For my lovebug. I'll buy you all the raspberry gelato and ciabatta bread you want. I'll even throw a lasso around the Italian moon for you to keep.

Your newborn's tag reads: For my baby girl. I'll show you the sea that emulates your beauty. You'll show me how lucky I am to hold and love you.

In all your years of knowing him, you don't think he's ever done something more romantic than the scrawly ink attached to a gift from a memory so dear to him.

"We're seriously going back to Italy?"

He crouches and squeezes your thigh. "End of July."

Your daughter doesn't quite understand the significance of what's happening since she was small when the family last went, but she's smiling as she absentmindedly sifts her hands through the sand.

You lean forward and hug Harry tightly. "You're so perfect. Thank you. I can't wait."

"You're welcome. Come with me for a second," he murmurs in your ear. He heads to the kitchen and quickly dumps the rest of his cold tea into the sink.

You follow him into the bathroom, leaving the door slightly cracked. Harry flicks on the light and then stands in front of you. "You," he emphasizes while cradling your cheeks, "are the fuckin' love of my life."

You accept his fervent kisses and mumble against his mouth, "Did you like the seashells?"

"Are you kidding?" He kisses you once more. "I almost lost my composure out there."

"See? I'm not the only one who gets emotional."

"I love you so much," he says, soft and sincere. "This will be the best trip of our lives."

You admire his bright eyes and dimpled smile. "I'm so glad you stayed home. You make it feel like Christmas."

❅ ❅ ❅

[friendsoup]

EVER SINCE I CAME ACROSS ONE OF YOUR MEDICINE POCKET X READER FIC I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOUR REQUESTS TO BE OPEN AND TO MY DELIGHT IT HAS BEEN OPEN!!!!!!!!!!! YIPPIEEE!!!!!!!!

im very excited sorry (i really REALLY love the way you write medpoc and like in general your writing is so yummy I would eat it for dinner lunch and breakfast.)

that aside is it possible to write about medpoc (lol) and voyager (if you can't write her, then kaalaa bauna?? i love space characters sm) x a reader who has a big old crush on them, but they can't actually confess to them? Fear of both losing a friendship and well, general feelings about confession and the aftermath of it (what ifs and such, maybe add insecurity to the touch)

separately btw, and please! happy endings, I can't take sad endings 💔💔

Non-Confessional Confessions

Recipe: Voyager x GN! Reader, Smitten!Reader, Reader is so fucking down bad, Longing, Voyager Confesses in her own way, romantic, Medicine Pocket x GN! Reader, Best friends to something?, playful banter, playful pushing/hitting, insecurity, on both ends WC: 1,755 Chef's Note: WAAAH I missed writing Medi so so so bad... And Voyager is such a fun character to write?! It certainly made for an interesting way of interacting :] I hope you enjoy, anon!

She’s ethereal.

Literal stardust made into the shape of a human being. Her eyes hold cosmos beyond your understanding, her lips keep secrets far beyond the earth’s knowledge. Her mind is like a sprawling galaxy, unknowable and unreachable. Unfathomable. Breathtaking. 

You were under her spell the moment you saw her. Who wouldn’t be? Though her mannerisms were strange, and she moved more like a puppet than a human, you found yourself drawn to the extraterrestrial. You kept her company whenever you could, hanging around like a moon in her gravitational pull. 

You never were one for classical music.

But now you find yourself craving it. There’s a deep ache in your heart whenever you picture her playing her violin. You want her music to fill your ears every moment of the day. Silence has become unbearable, as it only stirs a deep hunger in your chest. You want her to play for you. Only you.

You’re in love.

You have no other words to describe how you feel. Love seems most fitting, though it borders on obsession. She fills your head almost every waking hour. Everything you do, every breath you draw, finds it’s way back to her.

She sits on the couch, her violin perched on top her shoulder, her slender fingers holding the strings. She doesn’t look at you with those cosmic eyes. They instead meet the frets, as she fiddles with the instrument nervously. 

You look down at your hands, trying to keep them busy to stop your mind from racing. You sit a little ways from her, on a rocking chair. It creaks when you move, a horrible sound which shatters all tranquility brought by her music. Each time you shift in your seat, you cringe. It’s only a matter of time before she gets annoyed, and moves to go play somewhere else. Only a matter of time before she finds something better to do.

You haven’t thought about confessing. You don’t know if the Voyager is capable of romantic feelings, and you don’t want to pressure her into a relationship. Do aliens have romance? Does she know about such feelings? Could she feel the same?

You’re worried about hurting her. You’d never do anything to harm her intentionally, but what if she finds your feelings uncomfortable? What if she never sits with you like this again? What if she never plays for you?

An ache spreads through your chest. It makes it hard to breathe, your lungs squeezing out all the air they can. A question forms in your mind. It never hurts to be direct, does it? “Miss Voyager.” You begin. Her head perks up as she looks at you. Her expression calm, though her eyes remain unreadable. “Do you know about love? Romantic love, I mean.” You ask, timidly.

She stares at you for a moment. You’re afraid to breathe, afraid to ruin the moment. But then she rests her head back on her violin, and begins to play.

 Für Elise.

Your heart races. You feel the beginnings of a confession bubble in the back of your throat, but you choke it down. You don’t want to ruin what you have, you don’t want to hurt her. But watching her play her music, the concentration in her face, how elegantly her hands move. You fall into a trance, swimming in admiration.

Her eyes flutter open, and meet yours.

You feel like you’re about to cry. How could you ever delude yourself into thinking someone so perfect would ever like you? She’s so far above you, so far removed from everything you know. You would taint her, somehow. The grime from your earthly living would stain her otherwise perfect being.

You look away, and down at your hands.

“That was beautiful. I’m sorry for the weird question. I’ll go.” You take a shaky breath then stand. You need some time alone, to scream into your pillow, or stare longingly out a window. Anything to help you process this inferno raging in your chest. 

Just as you’re about to leave, you hear a quiet voice call out.

“Wait!” 

You blink, halting in your tracks.

“I wrote something… for you.” Voyager mutters. This is louder than you’ve ever heard her speak before, the strain on her voice is audible. You look at her, and notice that her posture has changed. She’s standing, fiddling awkwardly with her dress and staring at the floor. There’s a light pink on her cheeks. She looks just like you did a few seconds ago.

“...Can I hear it?” You ask, meekly.

Voyager raises her violin, and begins to play a new melody. You can see stars with every stroke of her bow, hear cosmos in every note she plays. The emotion is so strong in her playing that it hits you like a comet, burning you from the inside out. She sways as she plays, her face growing more pink with every passing moment. The melody reminds you of an early spring. And weaved in between, remnants from a song you’ve just heard.  

Für Elise.

Medicine Pocket

“You have that stupid look on your face again.” Medicine Pocket sneers, poking your cheek. “Have you been listening to me at all?” You haven’t been, in all honesty. You’ve been too focused on their face, and how passionately they spoke, and the intensity in their eyes. Your gaze lingered a bit too long on their lips as well. You noticed that they were chapped, and splitting in some places. You wondered, very briefly, if they’d take your chapstick if you offered it. “I have!” You lied, feigning irritation. “Yeah? What was I talking about?” They ask, lips curling up in a cat-like smile. 

That’s it. They’ve got you there. You feel your cheeks burn as you quickly look down to escape their eyes. They simply crackle in response, hooking an arm around you and pulling you in close. They smell like medicine and dog treats. Usually not a good combination, but it’s comforting now. And then they noogie your head, snapping you out of your lovesick daze. “Hey! Hey! Stop that!” You swat at their hands, pushing them away. They continue laughing, and you find yourself unable to hold back yourself. Giggles escape you as you punch Medi’s arm. “Maybe I’d listen if you actually had something interesting to say.” You tease. “Hm? Yeah?” Medi raises their voice an octave, tilting their head with their eyes wide. “And what kinds of things would interest you? Should I,” They raise a hand, striking a pose dramatically, “Sing your praises, your highness? I’m sure you’d like to hear me drone on about how beautiful, and special. You are.” You would like that, actually.

You stare for a second, trying to formulate a response. You’ve been friends with Medi for so long, it feels like there wasn’t a time before them. Yet these feelings were a new development. Or, perhaps, these feelings had always been there, but only now you had a name for them. Either way, you’ve found yourself growing slowly more and more in love with Medi. Medi, who’s never expressed interest in a partner. Medi, who acts disgusted when seeing any public displays of affection.

Medi, who likes to tease you every time you talk about a new crush with them.

You know, deep in your heart, that if you were to confess to them, they’d take it the wrong way. They’d feel uncomfortable and the friendship would be over. But it’s hard to keep those feelings in, when the two of you are sitting close like this. Knees barely touching, shoulders only a few inches apart. You can feel their heartbeat, or is that yours? You can’t tell. You feel like you’re floating, far far away from the sidewalk you’re sitting on. “Hello? Space case? What the hell is up with you?” Medi pushes you slightly, dragging you back down to earth. “I was just thinking about how lovely it’d be if you did sing my praise.” You snap back, a smirk growing on your face. You know that Medi hates complimenting other people, so there’s no way they’ll actually do it. 

Their cheeks flush, clearly taken off guard by your boldness. For a moment, you think you’ve gone too far. That they’re going to get up and walk away. You brace yourself for the worst, when they take a deep breath in. “Well, shit. Okay. If you’re begging for it that much.” They roll their eyes, and begin fidgeting with their shirt. “You’re fun to be around, for one.” They start nervously glancing between you and their hands. “I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. And you’re also a smartass. Which doesn’t sound like a good thing, but it is. The world needs more smartasses. Keeps the dumbasses from thinking too highly of themselves.”

You chuckle, though it’s forced. Your breath is caught in your throat as they continue. “You’re nice. Sometimes to a stupid degree, but it evens out my asshole nature. You’re really cool. And, well, I guess you aren’t completely horrible to look at.” Medi finishes. “There, I’m done. Are you paying attention now?” “That last one wasn’t a compliment!” You argue. “It was just a weaker insult!” Medi freezes. Then they scowl. “Fine, fine, fine.” They sigh. “Looking at you is… not gross.” “Oh come on! You can do better than that!” You push, bumping your shoulder against theirs.

“Fine! I really really like looking at you! You have nice hair, and pretty eyes, and you smell really good too!” They spit out, before turning their head away. The two of you sit in silence for a moment.

Your head spins. Does Medi… like you? They wouldn’t say those things if they didn’t, right? Does that mean the two of you could possibly date? But what would dating even mean? The two of you already spend most of your free time together. You tell each other everything, you’re affectionate sometimes. You do most of the things that people do when they date, outside of kissing. But you don’t think Medi’s ready for affection like that, and neither are you. 

Does anything have to change? Can’t things just be the way they are now? Just with some of the tension eased? Does this have to have a name? “Do you want to go get ice cream?” You ask Medi. There’s silence for a moment.

“Yeah, sure. You’re paying though.” They shoot you a smile.

Perhaps things can stay this way for a little while more.

[doumadono]

I'm so sorry to bother you. Could I do an emergency req..? Possibly dabi or bakugou? With all these fireworks I've been on edge and a comfort fic could help. (I was thinking Bakugou because he works so closely with explosions he's understand.) [For context, I was sh0t when I was young, and fireworks bring back memories]

Happy New Year - Bakugo x Reader

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST - PART 2

The night sky was alight with colorful explosions, each burst of fireworks echoing like thunder. The sound reverberated through the city, causing many to gaze up in awe. But for you, each boom sent a shiver down your spine, memories flooding back unbidden.

You sat on the balcony of Bakugo's apartment. You lived with Katsuki now, a decision that had brought you more comfort than you could have imagined. Yet, nights like this still unsettled you. The sounds of fireworks, so similar to gunfire, made it hard to breathe, hard to think.

The cacophony of fireworks was overwhelming, and no amount of deep breaths seemed to help. Just as another explosion lit up the sky, you felt a presence beside you.

"Hey," Katsuki's voice cut through the noise, a gruff but concerned tone that only those close to him ever heard. He stood at the sliding door, watching you with a mixture of worry and sadness in his sharp eyes. “Knew I’d find you here,” he walked out on the balcony, leaned against the railing, his gaze softer than usual. "You okay?"

You nodded slightly, not trusting your voice to be steady.

But Katsuki wasn't fooled. He knew you too well. He'd seen the way your shoulders tensed with each explosion, the way your breath hitched as memories flashed before your eyes.

Without a word, he walked over and sat down beside you, the weight of his presence both grounding and comforting. He didn't say anything for a moment, just sat there with you, his presence a silent reassurance in the midst of the chaos. "You know," he began softly, his voice unusually gentle, "fireworks used to freak me out too."

You turned to look at him, surprise evident in your eyes. "Really?"

He nodded, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Yeah. When I was a kid, I couldn't stand the noise. But I got used to it. Now it's just another sound. But I get it. It's not the same for everyone."

You appreciated his attempt to relate, even if you knew his experience was different. It was the thought that counted. He was trying to understand, trying to help, and that meant more to you than anything.

Another burst of fireworks lit up the sky, and you flinched despite yourself.

Katsuki's hand found yours beneath the blanket, his grip warm and steady. A silent promise that he was there, that you were safe. "Look at me," he said, his voice steady. You turned your gaze to him, focusing on his fiery eyes instead of the fireworks. "It's just a sound. Hush."

You knew he was right. But the fear was still there, lurking in the back of your mind, waiting for a moment of weakness to strike. "It's not that easy," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know. But you've got me, and I'll be damned if I let anything hurt you."

His words were a balm to your frayed nerves. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

He tensed for a moment, then relaxed, wrapping an arm around you in a rare display of affection.

"Thanks, Katsuki," you murmured, feeling a bit more at ease.

The fireworks were still going off, but they seemed a little less overwhelming with him by your side.

"You're welcome," he replied gruffly, but you could hear the sincerity in his voice.

You nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

The night sky was still alight with bursts of color, but with Katsuki beside you, the fear seemed a little more manageable. You had someone to lean on, someone who understood in his own way. And that made all the difference.

"Happy New Year," he said softly, his breath warm against your ear.

"Happy New Year," you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips.