#if you need me I’ll be dead. I spent an amount of time on this

[peapod20001]

@carbonateddelusion

✨ Stargazing ✨

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 19

Series Masterlist

Warnings: strong depictions of illness; very minor suggestive situations

A/N: Super angsty with generous amounts of cuteness. Reader will eventually get to be a badass. But this chapter focuses on articulating the grave situation.

You were pacing outside the bedroom door, wringing your hands just to keep as many parts of your body as possible moving so you wouldn’t combust. Hershel had insisted you wait outside in case it was something possibly contagious that took Daryl down. Even though you’d spent a lot of time close to him, you were showing no symptoms, so the veterinarian thought it best to be safe rather than sorry. 

You could hear Daryl coughing through the door, the sound sudden and harsh, followed by a groan each time that gave you hope that he’d possibly woke up. He’d been dead weight in your arms when everyone had burst in to help. The others had returned just in time, a heavy coat and gloves in tow for Daryl like you had requested. Rick and T-Dog had carried him up the stairs while Lori and Carol put forth effort to keep you back. You had shrugged them off and followed until Hershel stepped in. 

“Y/N, you’re gonna pace a groove into the floorboards.” Carol stood by, watching you, refusing to go about her evening duties and leave you alone. “Y/N.”

You finally paused but didn’t look at her. She didn’t get a chance to comfort you before the door opened. Hershel and Maggie stepped out, whispering between themselves in a way that made your chest tighten. 

“I’ll go get Beth and Carol to help me make a list. Carol?” The eldest Greene placed a hand on Carol’s arm, giving her enough time to assess you before she reluctantly followed. 

“Is he okay?” You asked quietly. You and Hershel were alone outside the door now, the old man’s face smooth with a calm you wished you could muster. 

“He likely had a virus that developed into pneumonia from breathing in the cold air. His lungs are full of fluid and inflamed, which accounts for the rattle when he breathes and, of course, the cough.”

“I know what pneumonia it is.” You interjected, a hint of irritation lacing your tone. “What needs to happen?”

“Ideally, we’d start an IV with fluids and antibiotics. If we can get the fluids and manage some oral antibiotics, we can make those work too. He needs those two things for certain. Fever reducers and cough suppressants would be beneficial. I will check for Tylenol in my things, though I fear I may have given you the last.” 

You crossed your arms above your belly, hugging yourself tightly, and bounced on the balls of your feet, your brain running on overdrive. “Maggie’s making a list?” Hershel nodded, hanging the stethoscope around his neck. “Okay, I’ll go see when we can leave.”

“Y/N, wait.” For an old man, he sure moved quickly, stepping into your path. You knew what he would say. He would advise you not to go, that you shouldn’t put your baby in danger. For fuck sake, you knew that. “I can’t tell you what to do. We’ve established that. And I know that Daryl means a lot to you.”

“With the utmost respect, Hershel, please get to the point.” Your tone was level though inside, you felt like yourself crumbling. The world just took and took and when you would start to feel safe, it didn’t hesitate to remind you of the devastation it could bring. 

“I’d like you to stay with Daryl.” Your rebuttal melted on your tongue when he held up a hand. “I will do everything in my power to care for him but I need to be able to care for you too. Maggie is capable. She’ll have help. Daryl needs you here.” 

“I just—”

“There will be no getting him to cooperate if he finds out you left. You know this.”

You threw back your head and let your arms fall. Of course he was right. And once again, you felt useless. “I know.”

“You know, you are doing more for that man in there than anyone in this group ever could hope to do and I’m not just speaking of the child.” He smiled at you with such kindness. It reminded you of your father, your eyes burning. “Remember that.”

You nodded and sniffed. The old man’s footsteps retreated as you leaned your forehead against the door. Daryl was coughing on the other side. Hershel would have told you if you shouldn’t go in. Most strains of pneumonia were not contagious beyond the virus or bacteria that caused them. If you hadn’t contracted the cold or flu that Daryl had before this, it was unlikely you’d be infected now. 

Turning the knob, you pushed on the door, steadily controlling how quickly it opened to keep it from making a lot of noise. Daryl was under the blankets, one arm lying across his stomach and the other at his side. His face was tilted away from you.

He wasn’t wearing a shirt but if you ventured to guess, he was likely not wearing anything. Hershel would have checked for bites. The hunter wouldn’t have kept that hidden. You knew that but maybe they didn’t. 

His chest rattled and wheezed with each breath, appearing to take a lot more effort than should be necessary. You wondered if they would search for oxygen tanks. Maggie is capable. They would. You needed to stay right there and not try to micromanage. Daryl needed you more. 

There was already an old, cushioned chair next to the bed. Perhaps Hershel used it or maybe Maggie moved it there for you. Regardless, you lowered yourself into it, remaining on the edge so you could easily reach Daryl’s hand. 

His skin was overly warm and dry, the sound accompanying each labored breath was somehow worse at that proximity. Seeing him so still reminded you of finding him injured back at the farm, how afraid you had been at the thought of losing him. That fear had experienced then resurfaced with a vengeance, squeezing your lungs so tightly that you imagined Daryl could breathe with more ease in that moment. 

“Prolly shouldn’t be in here.” 

You visibly startled, nearly sliding off the edge of the chair. “Jesus, Daryl, don’t do that.” You had to take a moment to get your heartrate under control before meeting his scarcely open eyes. It was as if whatever energy, whatever stubbornness, that had been keeping him going had just drained out of him. “How’re you feeling?”

“How ‘m I lookin’?” He wheezed. He coughed without opening his mouth until he could get his arm to obey him and cover the lower portion of his face. He inhaled his food like a human vacuum but at least he covered his mouth when he coughed. 

“Fair point.” You took his hand again and held it between yours. He didn’t pull away. 

“Just need a night an’ I can get back out there.”

You instinctively began to heat up in anger. How could he even think he was fit to be out of bed, much less hunt or take watch? How many times were you going to need to remind him that he needed to care for himself as well? After the initial desire to throttle him had passed, you leaned forward to rest your elbows on the mattress. “We’ve been over this. You can’t run yourself into the ground to take care of me, Thumper, or anyone else. You've done that. You’re really sick, Daryl. And I’m scared.”

“Ain’t gotta be scared.” His fingers wiggled weakly, slowly between your hands. You moved one away so he could squeeze the other. “Ain’t gonna be in this bed long.”

“You’ll be in this bed until Hershel says you can leave it.” You replied sternly. Despite the tears in your eyes, you firmly held his tired gaze. 

He challenged you, indignation carved into every line of weariness. When you didn’t waver, he backed down, much to your relief. “Fine.” He coughed again, coming up off the pillow from the force of it. You released his hand and stood over him, grabbing the old pillow from the other side of the bed. Luckily the dust had been beaten from the fabrics before you were in that room. You slid an arm behind his neck to help him sit up a little, placing the pillow behind him. “Could’a done it myself. Ain’t a invalid.”

“I know you can do things yourself. You’re just not seeming to comprehend that you aren't alone anymore. That someone cares for you.” Loves you. You were still standing and took notice of the bowl of water on the table with a piece of fabric hanging over the edge. Very likely Maggie was trying to bring down the fever. Licking your lips, you dipped the damp material into the cool water and wrung out the excess. With the slightest hesitation, you sat down close to his hand and began to dab the feverish skin of his face. Daryl probably didn’t even realize he sighed when his eyes fluttered closed. “Just let me take care of you for once.”

Fever-bright blue reappeared to study you. He didn’t seem upset but the hunter was known for his sudden shifts in temperament. You simply continued what you were doing, moving on to his neck. He coughed weakly, bringing his arm toward his face while you moved yours to make room. The spell was brisk, your limbs trading again but you felt his fingers brush your swollen belly. 

After another moment, Daryl grunted with a look of absolute feigned irritation. Though you knew you had won this round, you kept your expression neutral and leaned close to press a kiss to his forehead. 

“Thank you.”

His eyes were closed but you didn’t miss the twitch at one corner of his lips. His only reply was another grunt. 

The night was nearly unbearable. You had moved to the other side of the bed and sat cross-legged at his side. His breathing was labored and loud, the coughs frequent and painful. The more he rested, the less lucid he became during moments of wakefulness. His skin burned hotter as the fever climbed, your attempts to lower it all for naught. 

Maggie and company were set to leave at first light but it wasn’t soon enough. Pleas fell from your lips each time Hershel came to check on each of you. He urged you to try and rest, even offering to bring Carol, Lori, or Beth to sit with the archer while you got some sleep. Your refusal was instantaneous. Eventually, he brought Beth with him and reasoned she could stay to watch over Daryl while you rested beside him, promising to wake you with any changes, good or bad. 

You were exhausted, that you couldn’t deny. The baby rolled and kicked, honing in on your anxiousness, Hershel said. It was with a yawn that you reluctantly agreed. The Tylenol had finally been located, and you insisted on helping get Daryl to take it before lying down. He was resistant for only a moment before complying, simply because you started to cry. Hormones and exhaustion were not a great combination. 

“You’ll wake me for anything?” You were propped on your elbows, preparing to curl up next to the furnace that was your boyfriend? Partner? Significant other? Whatever. You’d figure that part when he was better. 

“Anything at all. I promise.” Beth smiled reassuringly and patted your ankle. 

You had been made aware that anything not in use had been packed and was ready in case there was a need to flee. That would leave ample time for Daryl to be moved safely. The team of Maggie, Glenn, and T-Dog would go in search of what was needed, likely to be gone the entire day to venture further out. The local homes and businesses had already been looted. In essence, there was nothing more to be done except keep the archer comfortable and more importantly, alive. 

“Okay.” You conceded, rolling onto your side to face Daryl as he coughed, a spasm of pain on his face before he settled again. “I’m right here.” You wrapped your fingers around his and held on loosely, closing your eyes to sink quickly into sleep. 

You heard the coughs before registering that your name was being called—no. It was being shouted. You shot straight up, hands immediately fumbling for Daryl. He was upright as well, leaning over his lap and arms braced against his chest to hold the blanket in place, cognizant enough during even such a paroxysm of hacking to hide his marred chest. With both the candle, nearly spent after what most of been a few hours rest for you, and the moonlight reflecting off the snow outside, you could see the redness on his skin, veins and tendons bulging from the force. 

“It’s okay. Daryl, it’s—where’s Hershel?” Your eyes remained on him, hand rubbing circles over his upper back. “Beth?” You looked at her then, found her staring at Daryl with an expression you couldn’t quite read. Fear? Hopelessness? The girl flinched at the sound of her name, only then seeming to hear your question. 

“He went to check if we have any tea bags.” She had lost so many, so much already. So young, still a child in that world. She was frozen, her eyes beginning to shine with moisture. 

Daryl’s fit was calming, each wet, wheezing gasp making the vice around your heart clench tighter. “Beth. Beth, look at me.” You were scared. No, you were terrified of losing Daryl. When the girl swallowed hard and finally turned her head to face you, you smiled with as much reassurance as you could scrape up around the dread stealing your own breath. Whatever you had, you would offer to Daryl. And to her. “He’ll be okay. Your dad’s gonna make sure of it.” You almost failed to hide the quiver in your voice. “Can you go see if we have any more clean scraps of cloth? I’d rather not have him spitting what he coughs up onto the floor.”

Beth nodded and spared one more lingering glance at Daryl, then she left the room. 

“Nice.” Daryl said with a desperate inhale. “Almost—believed ya myself.” He was still sitting up with his shoulders slumped, nearly folded onto his lap. You were still tenderly rubbing circles over his back. 

“You will be okay.” You whispered, laying your forehead against his shoulder blade, smiling when he didn’t react to your skin pressing against a particularly deep scar. Each breath vibrated where you rested. “Here.” You sniffed and pulled away one of the pillows. “Lay on your stomach. It opens up your lungs.”

The hunter looked over his shoulder tiredly as if considering whether or not it was worth the effort. There was a small jerk of his chin that you perceived as a nod, and then he was turning languidly to stretch out on his stomach. He coughed and buried his face in the pillow. You hadn’t noticed he was shivering before then. The blanket was twisted around his legs, making it more difficult to pull it up to the middle of his back. 

“S’miserable.” The words were muffled but decipherable. 

“I know.” You were getting to your feet, pressing your hands into the small of your back to soothe the ache there. The baby moved in what felt like a roll. “Thumper’s doing gymnastics.” Daryl turned his head toward the chair on his side of the bed just as you sat down and dipped the cloth into the bowl of cool water, his arm immediately outstretched so that the back of his hand rested on top of your bump. “Let’s see if we can help the Tylenol with that fever.”

When the cool fabric touched the back of his neck, Daryl flinched. With his body fighting to regulate his temperature, it must have been quite the shock. You left it there for a moment before moving to dab the side of his face. Swiping the cloth over his back, you realized he once again was allowing you to see his scars, this time without the tension of rigid muscles that accompanied his shame and self-loathing. Maybe he just felt too horrible to care. 

By the time Hershel lightly tapped on the door, Daryl was sleeping. The coughs were still present but with longer reprieves, the hunter so exhausted that the fits barely roused him. 

“We found some tea. I regret not mentioning to Maggie that honey could be beneficial.” One plastic cup in one hand was steaming, a torn piece of flannel wrapped around it to ensure he didn’t burn himself. The other hand held a refilled bottle of water, likely from boiling some of the snow. 

Your mind drifted to how different this winter was so different from the ones before the turn. Georgia wasn’t usually a state to receive that amount of snow and such low temperatures. Maybe the lack of human activity had altered the weather patterns. Less cars, less pollution, less deforestation. You weren’t an expert but there had to be something different. If he was real, maybe god just saw fit to throw a few more curveballs at your little group. As if the threat of being eaten alive by the dead wasn’t enough. 

Shaking your head clear, you brushed your fingertips across Daryl’s forehead. “They left?” Hershel nodded. The sun hadn’t even begun to rise yet. 

“Rick seemed to think this was urgent enough to send them out before dawn. I can’t say I’m thrilled to see my daughter driving away into the night but I am inclined to agree with his judgment.”

Daryl could die. It was urgent but for more than any practical reason Rick could suggest. It was so much deeper than that. “He’s asleep. Should I wake him up to drink it?” You placed the fabric back in the water.

“As much as I’d like him to rest, he also needs to avoid dehydration.” He raised the cup slightly. “Peppermint tea is caffeine free but we had nothing to sweeten it. We can only hope he’s thirsty enough to not care. If he’d prefer, I also brought some water.”

Sighing, you nodded and leaned forward to be in Daryl’s line of sight once he awakened. “Daryl. Wake up.” You pulled the blanket up to cover his back. Hershel had seen the scars more than once, you knew that, but you were almost certain Daryl would have appreciated the effort. 

With a groan of protest, he opened his eyes to slits. “What?”

“Hershel brought you some tea.”

“Ain’t thirsty.” He closed his eyes. 

“Bullshit.” You challenged flatly. “Come on, sit up.”

His eyes opened a little wider then, sheer stubbornness driving him to glare at you. “M’comfortable.”

“Tough titty.” 

His expression smoothed out, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Nah, s’real soft.” The hand that laid on your stomach drifted up, the back of his knuckles pressing lightly across the swell of your left breast. 

Hershel cleared his throat. Daryl’s hand moved away at a speed you didn’t think he was capable of in his current state. You snorted when the fevered flush coloring his cheeks deepened with embarrassment. 

Reaching a hand toward the veterinarian, you waited for him to cross the room and pass off the cups.

“Try to drink as much as you can, son.” 

Daryl hummed, likely feeling too awkward to trust his voice. You smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Hershel.”

“No thanks necessary. I’ll be back in a couple of hours to check in, but call down if you need anything sooner.”

“Okay.” The door clicked shut while you sat the cup of water down by the bowl and cloth. 

“Why didn’cha—tell me the old man—was in here?” Daryl croaked, making a face so close to a pout that you found it adorable. 

You chuckled. “I didn’t think you were gonna feel me up from your sick bed, sir.” He grumbled something incomprehensible but you honestly weren’t paying attention. If he wasn’t willing to sit up, you could have him raise his head just enough for you to help. “If you won’t sit up for me, could you at least lift your head and let me help you drink?”

“Y’ain’t gonna—stop houndin’—me ‘til I do, are ya?” He turned his face into the pillow and coughed, staying there until he was sure it was over. 

“Nope. You might as well just do what I ask.” You were smiling sweetly and batting your eyes when he finally moved his face back to you. 

“All women nag—this much—or s’mine just special?” Along with the relentless wiggles of your unborn baby, butterflies stirred and fluttered. Even if it was difficult to look past the fact that he struggled to draw in enough air when speaking, you felt your skin—as well as your heart—warm. 

His. 

“You’re just lucky.” You nearly sing-songed, choosing not to question his verbiage. You knew you were his. He’d been rather clear about that, even if he hadn’t exactly used words to convey it. That was enough for you. Hearing it was just a bonus. 

Daryl dragged his limbs and began to push up onto his forearms, but he abandoned the movement before his chest even lifted from the mattress. When he sighed, it was likely from resignation. He lifted and angled his head for you to adequately position the cup and pour a small amount of tea into his mouth. 

“Needs sugar.” He commented a moment or two after swallowing. Shaking your head, you offered it again.

It took a substantial amount of time to finish the tea and a few sips of water. The sun’s appearance found you sitting on the edge of the mattress, running your fingers through Daryl’s hair. He had fallen asleep before finishing the tea, waking only just enough to cooperate with your efforts. Hershel had been in once, declaring that while the archer hadn’t improved, he hadn’t worsened either. 

When he began to cough, you moved your hand from his hair to his back, rubbing soft circles in an attempt to provide any measure of comfort. Once he had settled, you used one of the flannel pieces Beth had retrieved to clean his mouth and the pillow. Hershel seemed pleased that the cough was productive. It was a disgusting reassurance but you’d take anything.

Daryl groaned and shivered, the fever relatively untouched by the Tylenol. The veterinarian had cautioned you that without the aid of antibiotics and soon, it was likely Daryl’s condition would deteriorate. Your hand stilled on this spine, the rattling of his lungs vibrating beneath your palm. Nearly overcome with an intense notion of foreboding, you turned your face toward the window, almost as if to summon back the team by sheer force of will alone. 

“Please hurry.”

[moneypowerglorymiddleofmiami]

heartthrob ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

note: the year is 2007, and as all romcoms do— none of this makes proper sense. (inspired greatly by notting hill, 1999)

summary: a coffee shop, the owner, hollywood's most famous actor, and a meet-cute

warnings: a cuss word here and there

genre: romcom

“Hello,” A baritone voice came after the telltale toll of the shop bell— baritone yet young, vaguely familiar but definitely not someone she knew well. “Are you open?”

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute!” She yelled back from the kitchen. She pursed her lips as she gave the cupboard a final thrust, the dodgy thing has always been a right pain in the arse.

“Hi, how can I help you, sir?” She asked cheerily as she emerged from the side door, the soles of her boots tapping loudly against the aged wooden floors.

She paused in her steps when she saw the sopping wet figure at the door, standing awkwardly and apprehensively at the threshold. Droplets of water trickled down from the sleeves of his coat down to the WELCOME rug placed conveniently at the entrance. “Oh, gods! Are you alright?”

“You don’t happen to have any tissues in here, do you?” He asked with a tight smile.

“Unfortunately, no. We’ve run out at the moment.” She scrambled to grab the nearest tea towel from the cabinet before rushing over to help him. “This’ll have to do.”

“Thank you.” Their fingers grazed as he took the fabric from her hold. “I’m sorry for making such a mess.”

“It’s fine! The floorboards needed a bit of a clean anyway.” She joked with a half-hearted grin in an attempt to ease the atmosphere. “I can have your jacket dried in the back if you want.”

“Oh, I can’t possibly intrude any further.” He waved his hand to veto her suggestion before tending to himself once more.

“You’re not from here, are you?” She asked with a sudden interest. With each minute he spent in her presence, she felt like she was closer and closer to figuring out exactly who this man was. She’d seen him enough times, surely. His name was at the tip of her tongue.

“The accent wasn’t a dead giveaway?” He grinned at her.

“Well, you get your occasional round of Americans here and there.” She shrugged her shoulders. “The sunnies were a bit on the nose though.”

He clicked his tongue, quickly pulling the pair down his face and placing it against the neckline of his shirt. “The weather report said it was going to be sunny.”

“Weather reports are dodgy.” She raised her eyebrow knowingly.

“I’m guessing it doesn't rain often where you’re from?”

“Twice every year,” He pursed his lips. “But I’m never around enough to know how true that actually is.”

“Sounds like you travel a lot.”

“A fair amount. My work keeps me away from home.”

“Ah,” She nodded her head. She must’ve seen him in a travel advert somewhere. “What do you do exactly?”

“Well, I’m an actor.”

She stopped to look at him more carefully, tilting her head sideways from one direction to the next to get a hint. She met his gaze momentarily, her eyes squinting as she wracked her brain for any clue of who he might be. He looked at her expectantly.

The dozens of movie posters she'd seen at the cinema came to her with a dazzling clarity. Ecstatic by her epiphany, she slammed her hand against the counter loudly— inducing a painful bang and an equally pain-stricken howl almost immediately.

“Are you OK?!” He asked with a panicked edge to his tone. He shoved the tea towel down his pocket carelessly as he ambled over to her. “I don’t know the emergency numbers here so I’m gonna have to either carry you or drag you— whichever comes first.”

She laughed loudly in amusement whilst nursing her hand, the pain slowly ebbing away as he continued to fuss over her. “I can’t believe it! Luke Castellan is in my depressing little shop!”

“Wait, fuck, are you sure you’re OK?” Luke mouth twitched, as if contemplating whether this was an appropriate time to laugh. He looked at her as if she’d gone insane. Maybe she did, maybe she actively was. This oddly seemed like the stuff of delusions.

“Yes, I’m fine!” She flipped her wrists as if to show him. “Healthy as a horse.”

He cracked a smile at her comment.

The bell let out a loud clang as a young man peeked his head into the shop, his umbrella left out in the street to protect him from the rain. “Luke! I’ve been trying to contact you for the last hour!”

“I suppose that’s your cue to leave then.” She smiled bashfully, the embarrassment catching up instantaneously. She was rubbish at this.

“I guess it is.” He hummed lowly with a grimace. He gave her a once over. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Luke, maybe hurry the fuck up?” The young man grumbled impatiently.

“Right,” She nibbled on her lower lip. “Thanks for coming around.”

“I’ll come back and actually buy something.” He said as he turned to leave.

“I’ll put you up to that.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

She was in the middle of a yawn when a loud voice called from across the street, a familiar tea towel gripped between ring-clad fingers and a head of black curls bobbing through the crowds.

It was still quite early in the morning, but Notting Hill was buzzing with life.

“Hey!” Luke yelled as he hurriedly walked towards her, expertly maneuvering himself between the masses of people and the stalls that lined the road. “I accidentally brought this with me. I had it cleaned and everything.”

“Thank you,” She said as she received it. The keys to the shop dangled between her fingers, waiting to be used. “You could have done away with the old thing.”

“It felt right to give it back.” He gave her a smile, more performative than yesterday— dazzling and charming, nothing less from an actor, of course. “It might have been sentimental, being in a display cabinet and all.”

“Well, it’s memorabilia from a royal wedding some decades ago.” She responded with a blush. “My mum likes to collect these things.”

“At least it’s got some national value to it.” He raised his eyebrows.

“There’s that, yeah.” She chuckled. “My mum’s gonna be relieved, I’m sure. Thank you, Luke— may I call you Luke?”

He stared at her for a moment; what for? She wasn’t exactly sure, but it was certainly magnetic. She couldn’t move away and it felt like everything else aside from the man in front of her was a blindspot. Her eyes met his, and Luke’s grin grew imperceptibly wider and her heart thumped indescribably faster.

“Sure, yes, definitely.” Catching himself, he stood straighter. His face looked ruddy, either owed mostly to the sunbeams warming his skin or the excitement thrumming underneath his flesh. “I’d like that.”

He stuffed his hand into his pocket, just in time to tend to his phone’s shrill ringtone and its incessant vibrations. Luke groaned as he pulled it out. “It’s probably my manager. I have to go, unfortunately.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear, equally as red as his cheeks despite the lack of direct sunlight against her skin. “Sorry to hear that. Have fun spending the afternoon slaying monsters.”

“The movie's about a bunch of kids on a cruise ship actually,” He laughed as he began to walk away backwards, his eyes completely fixated on her.

“Well, have fun doing that then.” She waved him off with an amused smile.

“I doubt it.” He winked at her before turning around at the curb then jogging down to god knows where.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“Hey, mum.” She greeted when she walked into their shared flat, the whistle of the kettle loudly whooshing from the kitchen. “Did someone ring the shop while I was gone?”

It took her mother a minute to respond, too enraptured by David Beckham’s impeccable left-leg hurl into the opposing team’s goal. She listened attentively to the live play-by-play narration as she made herself a cup of tea, the announcer was basically gripping his seat with anticipation. Telltale cheers of a victory echoed through the walls.

“Mum?” She called again.

“Oh, yes, sorry, dear!” Her mother replied distractedly. “There was a young bloke that called… think he mentioned his name was Luke.”

Thank the gods she was alone in the kitchen because the silent giddy squeals and foot stomps were definitely concerning. Christ, was this real life?

She cleared her throat and feigned nonchalance. She drummed her fingers against the marble surface of the counter, her nails absently digging against old remnants of a sticker. “And what did he say?”

“He said he’s staying at the Ritz under Hermes, so give that name to the concierge if you wanna call.” A beat. “Have you gotten yourself a boyfriend?"

“He’s not.”

“Be more definitive,” Her mother snapped. Teasingly, she added: “Not ever or not yet?”

“I’m not so sure, actually.” She clicked her tongue, wracked by pensive thoughts of juvenile daydreaming. She was getting ahead of herself, surely. She needed to approach this from a rational perspective: Luke Castellan had a whole life in Hollywood, decidedly not London. He had a bombshell girlfriend back at home with a career just as luxurious as his. He was a star burning brightly and she could barely get herself to flicker.

“Doesn’t sound like a ‘not ever’ to me.” Her mother responded with a lilt to her voice.

She swallowed thickly at how foreboding it sounded.

[slut4msby]

i miss you. iwaizumi hajime x reader

+ tags & warnings; pure fluff (for a change) :3

+ a/n; i need myself a hajime iwaizumi (27) athletic trainer so bad rn its not even funny i want him so badly and i could treat him so well, he can take out any stress and/or anger on me pls i love hajime iwaizumi (27) athletic trainer pls let me be like ur pretty little house wife hajime iwaizumi (27) athletic trainer

“I miss you, Hajime. I miss you so much it’s not even funny. The whole house feels so empty without you here. How has it only been three nights…” You ramble through the phone to your fiance. He had left to go on a work trip to a very important match. You and Iwaizumi both knew there was no way he was getting out of it.

“Mhm? Is that right darling?” He responded, “I wish you were here with me…” Iwaizumi sounded exhausted from the strenuous exercise and work he was doing. You wanted to take care of him like you would always do after his long weeks. Sitting down together, you giving him a back massage, him rambling on about his day. It was one of your favourite intimate moments to spend with your partner. “Laying here with me, in my arms. Kissing me…” 

“Hajime, you get so clingy when you are lonely.” You chuckle. Despite being a tall and well-built masculine man. He was always a massive cutie, and you adored his soft side. It always felt so personal in contrast to the version of Iwaizumi everyone else saw. He cared so much about not only you but everyone. 

“Mhm, can’t help it.” 

“Whatever, you big loser. I’m gonna head to bed now, I’ll talk to you in the morning, yeah?”

“Of course, darling. Sleep well, I love you.”

“I love you too, Haji.”

You hate to admit it but that night was the hardest night yet. Something about how clingy Iwaizumi was tonight sent butterflies to your stomach. Your big beefy boyfriend's weakness was you. His pretty little fiance. Your bed felt empty, lacking the usual warmth from Hajime’s proximity, leaving a noticeable void behind you.

It had now been two nights since that phone call. Your eyes open the next morning, waking up to the familiar tone of the empty house. Despite the day ahead, thoughts of Iwaizumi linger in your mind. You missed him more than ever right now, all you wanted was to feel the embrace of your partner. 

As the evening approaches, you find yourself yearning for the comforting sound of his voice. Dialling his number, you eagerly wait for him to pick up. The exhaustion from his work trip is evident in his tone, but the warmth in his voice brings a sense of relief.

"Hajime, how was your day?" You inquire.

"Long and tiring," he sighs, "but I can't wait to come home."

"I can't wait to see you, Haji. The house feels incomplete without you, I feel incomplete without you" you confess, a genuine sentiment underlying your words.

"I feel the same way, darling. I miss you more than words can express," he admits, his voice softening.

“I need you, Hajime.”

“I know, Y/N. I’m not any better than you.” Hechuckles in a deep, hearty manner.

God his laugh could bring you back from the dead with how it makes your body feel. 

The call ended once again for the fifth night in a row, only two more nights to go. This was the longest amount of time you and Iwaizumi had spent apart from each other since getting together. What you didn;t know was the mental toll it had on Hajime. He had initially anticipated being the strong one in this situation, but in reality, he would willingly abandon any commitment just to be with you at that moment. 

As part of the cycle you wake up again. In an empty bed, once again. Craving the touch of Iwaizumi, craving his presence. You missed waking up to him, even when he was in a deep slumber. His face soft, hair a mess. He looked ethereal, more ethereal than the vacant sheets and pillows that now occupy his usual place. 

You turn and look at your bedside table, on it is a photo frame, a photo of you and Hajime from your high school graduation. The day he had expressed his feelings to you. With a wistful sigh, you trace your fingers along the edge of the frame, reminiscing about the moment captured. As you place the photo down and get up, move out to the kitchen. You stand in front of your coffee machine and stand there as the espresso pours out. Next to the coffee machine sat Iwaizumi’s mug. The mug he would use every morning, as you two would sit cuddled up on the couch before the day started, just sitting and basking in the feeling of being with each other. It was a large blue mug, nothing special but it belonged to Iwaizumi Hajime.

You take your usual seat on the couch, turning on the TV to whatever shitty news station was last left on. You try paying attention to the weather or whatever, she was talking about. Before it moved onto the sports section, more specifically volleyball. You look around at the familiar faces of Hajime’s team, but no sight of Hajime. You were hoping maybe you could catch a glimpse of your boyfriend on the screen, but nothing. You let out a sigh, before taking another sip from the mug in front of you.

You are truly in a world of your own when you get interrupted by the door opening. You had sworn you had locked the door, you freeze still. 

“Goodbye cruel world.” You think to yourself.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice says softly, your head darting around to see someone standing in the doorway, removing his shoes. Not just anyone, your someone. 

“HAJIME?!” You shout with excitement.

Your heart skips a beat as you leap off the couch, abandoning all composure. There, standing in the doorway, is Iwaizumi Hajime – your massive, cutie of a boyfriend who was supposed to be away on a work trip. Disbelief and joy flood your senses as you rush towards him, practically throwing yourself into his waiting arms.

"Hajime, you're back!" you exclaim, your voice a mixture of surprise and delight.

He chuckles, his strong arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. "Couldn't stay away any longer, could I?"

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you pull back slightly to look at him. "But the match? The work trip?"

“I wrapped things up early for you.”

“They let you?” You questioned.

“Told them I was sick.”

“You can’t just lie like that, Hajime.” You say playful hitting his arm.

"Turns out, I couldn't bear to be apart from you either.” He says kissing your head, “and technically not a lie, I was sick of not seeing you, darling.”

A surge of emotions overwhelms you, and you can't help but pepper his face with excited kisses. Iwaizumi responds with laughter, his deep and hearty laugh filling the room. The void that haunted the past nights dissipates, replaced by the warmth of his presence.

He places a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Missed you too much. Couldn't resist coming back to my pretty little fiancée."

As you both settle on the couch, Iwaizumi takes the mug from the coffee table, the familiar blue one he always used. "Missed this mug," he remarks with a smirk.

With a playful eye roll, you reply, "Yeah, well, I missed you using it."

As the TV continues to drone on in the background, you find yourself caught up in the joy of the unexpected reunion. The cycle that seemed endless has been broken, and the empty bed, the vacant mug, and the lingering void are now filled with the presence of Iwaizumi.

©slut4msby.

[xbeezchaos]

BPD Howl Pendragon!

I knoooooowwww. I’ve literally been dead for months and apologies for this being something unrelated to the BPD Scara series I’ve been getting at but I’m currently fixated on Howl so I’ll be using him as my projector. I also highly believe this man has BPD and nobody can convince me otherwise

Btw. I don’t condone romanization of mental issues. I’m simply ✨projecting healthily✨

Jealousy flare ups and depressive episodes; what that looks like for Howl

He’s unsure why, but he has been struggling with jealousy in a much higher factor than what he’s typically used to. It may be due to your presence

Ever since you two have gained the new title of dating and made it public, he’s felt a sense of possessiveness over you in a way that felt consuming

He needed you in bed to sleep soundly at night, and if you weren’t there he’d have not a wink of sleep while he held one of your clothing items close, taking in your scent and crying to himself about why you weren’t here

He gets suspicious and jealous when you spend lots of time away from him and with other friends. He trusts you but he’s scared someone will take you away.

You try telling him these things you plan out, but sometimes he won’t listen after he’s become too worked up over the idea of you being away for so long

He spends hours in bed without water or food. No motivation to get up until he gets a message from you encouraging him

Sometimes you have to baby the tall man, wash his hair and brush it for him.

Getting him to eat is the worst, he blames his medication cause the side effects impact his appetite frequently but the benefits are “too good” to give it up for just that

When he does eat, he’s got a sweet tooth like no man’s business, you’d think he’d gone mad with the amount of sugary treats he’d consume. But at least he was eating now so you didn’t complain too much

If he’s not sleeping all day, he’s awake for days on end, unable to sleep and refuses to take his sleep aid pills because “they don’t work.”

He’s secretly really petty towards those around the two of you but tries his best to keep most of it to himself. Even if you know. He won’t tell you.

The sleep aid pills knock him flat on his ass and he hates it. Waking up to your giggles of how he fell asleep in your arms like a snoring baby would make his face flush in embarrassment

He dislikes a lot of people talking to him when he’s upset. He’ll start snapping and going silent. P

Sometimes despite how hard it is to get out of bed, when he does, he’ll try to do small things like clean, eat, and make you little gifts

He made you a phone charm and matching rings to wear, he’d spent all night on it, since he was in bed all day.

It’s hard when he’s having an episode due to his jealousy, if you or someone else doesn’t get to him in time he’ll start calling upon the shadows and it takes quite a while to get him to even process that anyone else besides him is within the vicinity, let alone fully calm down.

He gets very clingy when he’s depressed, he’ll carry around items of yours and calls them “support items”

He looks like a tall child with a blanket as he walks around the house doing his daily business. It’s the best you’ve seen him do in the last few weeks so you try to keep him with his support items often

“Coffee is not a meal, have you eaten anything today?”

“A cheese stick..” you hit him over the head with a rolled up newspaper after that and dragged him to go make food.

He’d done this for over a week now and despite the small efforts, a drink wasn’t enough for him to get through the day.

Extra sassy in his conversations with calcifer

Takes the longest showers ever and he’s always steaming like a boiled potato when he gets out

Becomes a tablet child to compete simple tasks

Irritable as hell when he’s around people he’s not fully comfortable with, like your friends he’s only met twice

He’d eventually try going off on his own and have a good time that way, then eventually end up having an anxiety attack when he starts getting into his own head again

It’s not that he’s not social, but when he feels ignored he gets quite irritable and especially quiet. Which is odd for him because he loves chatting with new people

[bae04xx]

Omg would you write a yandere tsukasa x reader please

i’m actually bare sorry i never check tumblr and when i saw this i was sooo excited so i hope you like it xx

this has not been proof read and i cba sorry

as the winter closed in, there was a chilling presence in the air. i stepped back into the school, noticing the frost that had settled gently against the glass panes of the windows, i tugged my woollen hat down my head further in order to keep the heat in. while strolling through the barren halls i took notice of the oddly quiet atmosphere, sure it had been an hour or so since school ended but usually i could hear some clubs closing up, or at least hanako and yashiro. i made a mental notice of the abnormality, but continued my way to the broadcasting room.

i wonder to myself if i took too long, i had tried to be on time, considering i had to be finished with my homework in an hour- despite being forced to deal with a whole weeks worth in such a small amount of time i was expected to do it all. thanks to tsukasa. according to him if i spaced it out evenly i did it in small parts every day that was “too much time wasted that i could be spent with him” although he’s happy with putting my education on the line…

well at least that’s the only thing he’s endangering- id it were up to him i’d be 6 feet under, my ghost being tormented by his antics constantly.

but like i was going allow that, i’d been firm with him since the day i met him, no matter what happens between us- i am not bound to him and i am not dying for him. sure i loved him..

i loved him more than anything. even if i acted like i hated him, and he got on my nerves like mad, and he was a terrible person, i still loved him. and he loved me. he made it very obvious what he wanted out of me- for me to belong to him. tsukasa was very possessive, especially if he owned an object, but even if it wasn’t his- he would do anything to keep it. and that’s what i hated, i am not an object and i am not something to be kept, or protected; i don’t belong to anyone! his whole ideology goes against everything i stand for, but he just doesn’t listen.

it’s constant affection, constant attention, constant interrogations, he has to know where i am, what i’m doing, who i’m with always. but i’m not a child, fucks sake i am my own person. yet he’s always going on at me how i need to be bound to him, he’ll give me whatever i want as long as i belong to him, he can kill me and we’ll be together forever, i’ll be his princess. but i want to live. i want to make a life for myself, make my family proud, have my own family one day. but yet i love him with every atom in my being..

gosh life is confusing, why can’t it just be simple? i doubt anyone else has these problems.

i stopped dead in my tracks, as i heard hanako’s boyish laugh, my eyebrows knitted as i realised i missed the last flight of stairs, too absorbed in my own thoughts.

“y/n? what’re you doing down here?” i heard him call over from the toilets, of he knew i was here.

“y/n? hey!” yashiro rushed towards me and brought me into a soft hug, she was very warm, the complete opposite to my shivering form.

“hanako- she’s freezing!”

“what’re you doing here? aren’t you meant to be with tsukasa already?” he questioned, ignoring yashiro’s worries in order for his question to be answered.

“i’m fine,” i sighed, “i’m not meant to be anywhere, we aren’t bound.” i stated calmly as he chuckled.

“aren’t bound but you’re wrapped around his finger aren’t you?” he said, his cheeky smile adorning his face.

i huffed, preparing myself reply to his quip before i was interrupted by a cold, ghostly figuring wrapping itself around my back.

“y/n! what’re you doing here? you were meant to be in the broadcasting room ages ago!” he whined in my ear, his grip around my waist tightening, his sinister grip on my contrasted against his childish words.

“amane! i see you found y/n!” his face brightened as he saw his brother, while hanako stood his ground, yet uncomfortably. yashiro backed away from me towards him.

“she found me, i���m guessing looking for you,” he said coldly, as tsukasa craned his neck.

“well she was going the wrong way! c’mon y/n, i’ve got some much stuff to show you!” he smiled, grabbing my hand and leading the way, i sent a weary glance to yashiro, who just stood still, unsure of what to do.

…

“why were you there.” there was a bite in this voice, it was just me and him in the far part of the room, closed off from the 2 other members.

“i don’t know, i was just wondering and was thinking about some… stuff and didn’t even have where i was going on my mind,” i spoke softly, noticing his tense tone and his blank face- he exhibited no emotion.

“i’m not looking for excuses.” he spoke, his dark eyes barring holes into my e/c ones.

“i was on my way to you tsukasa, i promise,” i tried to reason with him, evidently hating the atmosphere.

“when how did you get there y/n, how did to get to amane when you were on your way to the basement?”

“i.. don’t know. i’m just stressed, ok? i’ve got a lot on my mind right now,” i was so close to giving up, walking out of this stupid club and going home to get the first good nights sleep i would get in months. he has me constantly cooped up here until the late evenings. just because he “can’t dread the afterlife with out me.”

“you’re not going home anymore.” he stated, his face still unchanged as mine blew up before him.

“i need to do my homework- my parents will kill me tsukasa! i can’t do this to myself, i need to finish my studies, i can’t always be here with you! my education matters, i put up with you all in my face while i am meant to be learning, set aside my home work to be with you, walk home in the dark all on my own and get god knows how many hours of sleep all for you!” i screamed, i was tired, and the bags under my eyes said that for me. just as i stood up to leave and turned my back on him, he grabbed me from behind.

“you won’t have to worry about any of that anymore, now be a good girl and sit back down for me,” i heard him whisper in my ear, as i tried to break out of his grip i left something sharp and cold appear next to my neck.

he had a knife against my throat.

“now are you going to listen to me?” he grinned.

i silently sat opposite to him, as we had been previously, he could feel the fear aching off me, he was basking in this work, his face staring lovingly yet proudly at my trembling body.

“you really should’ve told me this sooner,” he sighed, playing with the silver knife, spinning it between his fingers.

i said nothing, unsure of what would be the right response.

“are you gonna reply or just sit there shaking like a leaf?” he giggled, before he patted his lap, indicating for me to sit.

i slowly get steadily sat on his lap, as he cuddled into me, taking a deep breathe from his noise while his hands were feeling every inch of me.

“i’m going to miss you being so warm,” he said to himself, i shiver went down my spine.

“what.. do you mean?” my voice was so quiet, i couldn’t manage to speak above a whisper’s volume.

“i’m doing you a favour, i’m going to take away all these bad feelings from my baby, how does that sound?” he teased me with his fingers, sensually moving them against my thighs, i melted into his touch.

“yeah.. that sounds good,”

“so, you want me to take all these bad feelings away from you? no matter what the consequences are?”

“mhm..” i mumbled, too tired and my feelings being all over the place to speak.

“i’m gonna need a yes y/n,” he chuckled.

“yes tsukasa,” i said wearily, before i felt it.

his knife went through my heart, i sprung up as a i felt an animalistic scream emerge from my throat. as the blood spewed out of my i felt my lover’s chest rising to the beat of his uncontrollable laughter. i watched as he floated above me, his hands gripping my cheeks as he giggled and stared at his masterpiece, i felt my body dying and the blood rushing around me- only to leave me. my eyes slowly started drooping, until all i saw was black, and i felt myself slip away, finally at peace.

“y/n! you’re finally awake! gosh, you couldn’t of taken longer, could ya?”

“wh-what’s going on? i thought i was dead..”

“sakura! she’s awake! y/n is finally awake!”

“very nice tsukasa.”

“you’re finally mine, all mine. we can be together forever now!” he giggled, before planting a kiss on my forehead.

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 97 }

pray for me.

nicholas d. wolfwood x single.mother!reader

warnings: unedited; thirst post; minors do not interact.

by choosing to interact with this 18+ content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings.

the night was cold, seeming to pierce through you as you struggled to maintain your balance whilst running across the streets of jeneora rock. your voice was hoarse, crying out your son’s name as you searched for him with a desperation. 

you couldn’t believe how this all started simply because you wanted to make your son happy. due to how you were in charge of closing shift at the diner, you were given little choice but to take him with you. in hopes of keeping your son preoccupied, you had gifted him a rainbow colored ball all while telling him to remain inside the diner’s break room. 

you had listed off some rules for him to follow, and truly believed that he would behave himself. so when it came time to close the diner after you had finished cleaning the place, you could almost feel your heart drop to your stomach when he was nowhere to be seen in the break room. 

the cold sweat was felt pooling against the nape of your neck, and when you searched around for him while bathed in complete and utter despair, you swore your heart broke upon seeing how the diner’s back door was left wide open. 

and that was all the urging you needed to come rushing out of the diner. 

having your son when you were just 20 years old, being a consequence of a one night stand you had hoped would lead to something fruitful due to your loneliness- 

but oh, how wrong you were at the thought. for when the man who had helped fathered the life growing deep inside of you found out you were carrying his child, he had ghosted you within mere seconds. you recall just how terrified you felt at the thought of becoming a single mother. 

since the moment you were born within the cold and barren world, you had always been alone. your memories were filled with yearnings and daydreams pertaining to how you would find someone who would love you unconditionally and raise a family with them. and despite how you found yourself loathing the man you had slept with-

you couldn’t bring yourself to carry any amount of hate towards the child growing from within you. 

each day, your heart simply grew with an intensity for your baby boy, not stopping such powerful emotions from becoming stronger even when he was born. for five long years, you spent caring for him, growing with him as he helped you learn to love yourself.

you had to find him, for if you lost him, then you would have no reason to live. 

your voice echoes throughout the sleepy town, becoming hoarse when a familiar, shrill cry was heard, the sound of it piercing through your very heart. 

“MOMMY!” you follow the sounds of your son’s terrified cries, leading you to an alleyway as you were face to face with a powerful man trapping your son within his arms. he held your child in a powerful grip, close to breaking his arm just as your adrenaline reaches its peak. 

“my, i was hoping that by catching this little brat, i’d be able to get your attention.”

“you fucking bastard, unhand him at once.” you automatically stalk closer to him, having every intention of ripping those damn hands away from your son when the sudden appearance of a gun pressed against your child’s head makes you stop dead in your tracks. 

“if you take a step forward, i’ll blow his fucking brains out, and if you refuse to cooperate, heh. i might give you the same treatment as well.”

you were close to screaming, about to ask this fucker just what he wanted when you felt a sudden presence coming from behind you. from your periphery, you saw what looked like a hefty metal cross. the faint scent of cigarettes were all that filled your senses, and you found yourself turning back to look behind you. 

he wore a bored expression on his face, eyes hidden beneath a pair of sunglasses as a cigarette hung loosely from his thin lips. keeping his gaze on the bastard that still held your son hostage, he gestures at you to take a step back before aiming the cross at him. 

“don’t you know it’s rude to separate a child from his mother?” 

you weren’t given a chance to breathe when a sudden, pulsating beam of light was suddenly aimed at the prick and your son-

oh dear gods, your son...!

your eyes water for the briefest of seconds, opening as the tears streamed down your face with you reaching out to him-

only to feel the same, strange man in the suit step closer to you, all while placing the child within your outstretched arms. your heart began to pound, racing anxiously from within your chest as you felt as though it were close to imploding. you look into that man’s eyes, seeing his gaze soften just the tiniest bit at the sight of you clinging to your son. 

“i...i don’t know what to say-” you trail your eyes forward, trying to see just what had happened to that bastard only for your savior to step directly in front of you, as if trying to shield you from such a malicious sight. 

“i wouldn’t if i were you.” he warns, voice turning deeper before letting out a grunt as he tosses his cigarette to the side. with a soft coo in your voice, you could still hear your son whimpering with fear. “mama, h-he destroyed my ball, the one you g-gave to me. and i d-don’ want you to be m-mad at me.” you continue to comfort him, telling him that it was more than okay, and that you were happy to buy him a new ball later. 

his tears were still felt staining the front of your shirt, but all you felt was a staggering relief that he had been saved. “i...i don’t know what else to say, i- thank you.” 

your gaze remained honed in on his form when you beckon him to tell you his name. the man seemed hesitant, looking away from your gaze before letting out a sigh. “it’s nicholas, nicholas wolfwood...” he trails off, holding his giant weapon across his shoulder before lifting a hand to grace at your features, gently framing at your cheek, “and besides, there’s no need to thank me. a kid needs his mother to grow up healthy and strong.” 

knowing that you would do anything to show this man simply known as nicholas your gratitude for saving your entire world, you muster all the courage you had and ask him to escort you back home-

and much to your shock, it works. 

------

by the time you came back to the safety of your apartment, your son was all but worn out. you settle him back within the comfort of his bedroom, tucking him into bed before pressing a lingering kiss against his forehead, whispering your love to him once more before exiting his room. 

you close his door and look behind you to see nicholas standing awkwardly in the middle of your living room. he had his massive weapon settled over to the corner of the room. your heart was pounding, nearly choking you with its anxious beats when you step closer to him. “can i offer you anything to drink? or to dine on, for that matter?” 

nicholas meets your gaze before shaking his head, “ah, no. that won’t be necessary. since you’re already home with your kid, i should probably go.” 

your mind was spinning, desperate to somehow show him just how grateful you were to him for saving your son. stepping closer to him, your hands slowly reach up to remove the sunglasses that hid his eyes from your curious gaze. he keeps staring at you with an unreadable expression, yet you couldn’t help but admire the beauty of his rich, dark cobalt gaze before bringing yourself even closer to him. clutching at the front of his dark suit, meeting his eyes for the briefest of moments before your lips collided with his in a bruising kiss. 

you could feel him groaning, unable to hold back his own desires for you when his arms come to wrap themselves around your form. you kept pressing yourself closer to him, letting out a soft whine of his name when he pulls away from your heated kisses first. 

“oi, this doesn’t seem fair. i don’t even know your name yet- oh, fuck.”

you cut him off by gently nipping at the base of his throat, telling him your name in a sultry voice before pulling away from the lanky man. you tug at his wrists, giving him no choice but to follow you as you lead him to your bedroom. 

your clothes were strewn all across your room, leaving you both bare as you began kissing your way down nicholas’s body. his pale form was surprisingly built as you admired the lean muscles that seemed to decorate his frame. his hands kept delving themselves within your hair, letting out a grunt here and there each time you gave a few nips against his skin. 

you continue kissing your way down his body, placing a lingering kiss against his chest, where you could feel his heart beating from beneath your lips before going lower...and yet lower still. you didn’t stop the way you trail your lips down until you reached the slight trail of dark hair leading down his abdomen. you admire the prominent v shaped dip seen against his hips and felt your mouth water when you came face to face with his throbbing erection. 

filled with the need to please him, your hands slowly began to stroke him, forcing a loud groan to escape from his lips. “you must behave, mr. wolfwood, or else you’ll wake up my darling son...and i would be forced to stop.”

“nngh...!” your words succeeds in making him bite against his fist, feeling your lips kissing at his inner thighs as he fought back the urge to thrust his cock inside of your mouth. pressing one last kiss against his thighs, you return your attention back to his aching shaft, admiring how pretty it was for a brief moment before descending upon him. 

your lips wrapped themselves around his mushroom tip, feeling a moan escape from the confines of your throat when nicholas arches his back against the bed. you feel him suddenly dart forward, remaining stiffened and upright against your bed when he feels you take him in. your hands worked on pumping whatever couldn’t fit within your mouth, feeling your own core fluttering with absolute need for him each time he lets out a breathy moan of your name. 

unable to handle the ache for much longer, you remove one of your hands away from his girth to reach down against the aching flower between your legs. the way you slowly began touching yourself while keeping sucking at his shaft doesn’t go unnoticed by nicholas when he suddenly lets out a strained whisper of your name. 

within seconds, you found yourself suddenly pulled away from his cock as nicholas’s arms were wrapped around you. he grunts, sitting up so that you were now pressed against your bedsheets before spreading your legs. once you were wide open for him, nicholas leans down to devour at your slick walls. 

he was relentless when it came to pleasuring you, the all-consuming pleasure you felt was enough to make your back arch against your bed. now, you were the one who struggled to keep your moans quiet, biting down against the back of your hand with such intensity that you could feel your teeth imprint against your skin. 

the squelching sounds nicholas made the moment he introduces a slender finger within your gummy walls was enough to make you cry out. you were so close to reaching your completion- ready to spill yourself inside of his mouth when he suddenly pulls away from you. 

almost immediately, your hands reach out to him, ready to let out a string of protests when nicholas wraps your legs around his waist, tracing at the outer lips of your slick walls before thrusting himself deep inside of you. you could feel the scream of pleasure nearly become ripped from your throat had it not been for the fact that nicholas had surged forward to capture your lips in a searing kiss. 

“careful, you need to keep quiet, remember?” nicholas’s voice had taken on a darker tone, making you tremble at how sensual he sounded while shamelessly licking away the tears of pleasure that fell down across your cheeks. 

it has been far too long since you had been intimate with any man. your days and free time were dedicated to caring for your son, and thanks to nicholas, you were finally able to feel like a woman. as if experiencing some form of  enlightenment each time nicholas’s hips met with yours. 

you could truly feel every inch of him as he pounded himself into you, the obscene sounds of your union making you roll your eyes back in response. you were so close, so close to reaching your high as you felt whispered phrases of “oh god oh god oh god, this feels so good, nicholas...!” 

“that’s right.” he leans down to press a kiss against your swollen lips, biting down against them before hoarsely telling you, “pray for me, pray for me to bring you to heaven as you come.” 

that was all the urging you needed to feel the coil snap within your abdomen as a silent cry was felt escaping from your lips. your walls began to convulse around nicholas, trapping his cock deep within your womb as your walls began to milk him for all he was worth as he shoots his seed deep within your core, painting your slick walls white with his release.

truly, it had been so long since you felt such an intense release, making you fall back against your bed with nicholas landing on top of you. a light sheen of sweat was seen all across your skin, and his heavy weight was actually quite comforting to you as you felt his lips press lingering kisses against your damp neck.  

feeling exhausted, you tilt your head over to press a kiss against his cheek, thanking him once more before allowing yourself to succumb to your exhaustion.

------

the coldness you felt surrounding you was what ultimately rouses you from your peaceful slumber. 

you sit up in bed, letting out a soft gasp of nicholas’s name-

only to find that your bedroom was completely empty. 

your heart breaks at the sight, making you get out of bed as a faint soreness was felt between your legs. with shaky steps, you pick up your clothes and put on the shirt you wore last night, still smelling the faint scent of sweat and cigarettes lingering against your skin. 

coming out of your bedroom, you saw that it was still early in the morning and that your son was still asleep. despite the ache you felt from nicholas’s sudden disappearance, you knew that it was for the best-

and besides, you still had your son to love and care for after all. 

trying to ignore the fact that nicholas’s cross was nowhere to be seen, you were about to check on your son when the sight of something colorful catches your attention. facing the object, you felt your heart suddenly race with anticipation once more, seeing the sight of a new, brightly colored ball settled against your table with a folded piece of paper next to it. 

your steps were shaky and uneven, coming closer to your table as you lean down to get the note. unfolding it, you suddenly felt a warmth coursing through your veins when you read the following words written in a hurried scrawl:

for your kid. 

i look forward to seeing you again someday. 

-yours

ndw.

a.n. - hhhhh forgive me father for i have sinned. dear god is nicholas d. wolfwood an attractive man.

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[ad-astra-per-aspera-1389]

Okay, so I don't usually post my fics directly on tumblr (usually just on ao3 with a link on here) but ao3 is down atm and I finished the dbd x mphfpc fic!

Tagging @fellow-fandom-fruitifier bc he asked :)

Um...I'll add what would be tags here:

Fandoms: Dead Boy Detectives (TV), Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children (Books)

Not really any necessary content warnings. Just a nice little case without anything dangerous, for once.

Word Count: 2069

The Case of the Lost Boys

Summary: The Dead Boy Detectives find themselves on the island of Cairnholm, investigating the whereabouts of a wandering ghost and his unfinished business.

While London alone was teeming with ghosts with issues to solve, occasionally ghosts brought cases from farther away. Typically, these cases were much simpler than what would, 25 years later, lead them to Port Townsend.

One of these cases, back in 1998, was The Case of the Lost Boys. 

The ghost of a young woman arrived in their office one afternoon. While the case didn’t necessarily concern her directly, she had spent a lot of time with the affected ghost. A young boy, around Charles and Edwin’s age, had been wandering the island of Cairnholm for decades, the woman said. He was looking for something—someone—that just wasn’t there. The woman paid them sufficiently, and Charles and Edwin agreed to take the case.

Mirror hopping led the two detectives through the mirror inside a bathroom, which was attached to a motel room, which was above a tavern. The sheer amount of noise coming from below caused Edwin to simply walk through the wall to get outside, instead of going down the stairs and through the tavern on the ground floor. It was one of several things that freaked Charles out every time Edwin did it. To his credit, however, Edwin was trying to do it less when Charles reminded him of it. However, that didn’t mean he didn’t still forget from time to time.

Edwin walked through a second floor wall and landed on his feet on the ground outside. A few minutes later, Charles was next to him, having taken the long way around. “Mate, you can’t keep doing that! I know you’re fine, but I still forget we’re dead sometimes.”

“Right, my apologies. I’ll use the door next time. I simply didn’t care to walk through such a loud establishment.”

“Next time, we’ll take the stairs and walk through a wall on the first floor, yeah?”

“Agreed. Now, let us track down this wayward ghost, shall we?”

After a bit of walking, the two detectives found the place their client had mentioned the boy to frequent. They had to wait a while, but, sure enough, the boy wandered through the bog and up near the old, previously bombed out house on the far side of the island. Once they were sure he’d stay there for a while, Charles and Edwin followed him up, Charles holding his cricket bat out in front of him.

“Excuse me,” called Edwin, “but we were called because we were told you might need help.”

The boy turned around. He’d been tearing through pieces of the house, searching. “My sister. She was here.”

“When it was bombed during the war?” asked Charles. He hadn’t quite gotten around to explaining the second world war to Edwin, but Charles knew London and other parts of the region had taken a lot of damage. He’d paid some attention during his history classes.

“Yes, but it always reset before anyone got hurt.”

“What do you mean, reset?”

“The bird reset it to the night before the house was destroyed. We would watch the show each night before bed. Then I went out one night, and I died. I can’t get back in. I haven’t seen her in years!” The boy punched a wall, causing chunks of it to fall out. Charles pulled Edwin backwards, out of the house entirely.

“I think he’s lost his mind,” said Charles, once he and Edwin were alone again. The two of them were poring over Edwin’s notes.

“It seems he’s lost his sister, and, though the house was bombed with her in it, he believes she’s alive.”

“He mentioned it all being reset. Sounds like a time loop, doesn’t it?”

“That it does, Charles, but we cannot see it, and therefore we cannot break it.”

“Is that even the problem, though? If he just sees his sister, he’ll move on.”

“That would be quite easy, Charles, if only we knew where the sister was.”

They didn’t even know the ghost’s name, and now they needed to find his sister, too? This wasn’t as easy as they thought it would be.

Charles and Edwin returned to the island the next day, after spending the night in the office reading up on time loops and delirium in ghosts. This time, they used the stairs to exit the tavern, and by the time they reached the old house it was midday. Despite the sun being high in the sky they still couldn’t see very well in the old charred house. Charles pulled two flashlights from his backpack and the search continued.

Eventually, Charles found a hole in the floor. “Edwin, come look at this!”

The boy in question followed Charles’s voice until they were both looking down into the hole. Edwin went down into the hole while Charles stood lookout, just in case the ghost boy made another appearance.

Inside the hole in the ground, Edwin found a trunk of old photos, featuring children doing largely impossible or supernaturally odd things. As he sifted through them, a second light appeared above his head. It was a soft glow, like a fireplace, and Edwin looked up right as Charles called, “Edwin?”

A girl stood next to Charles, holding a ball of flames above the hole to see into it better. Edwin heard her voice echo as she asked Charles, “What are you doing here? Who are you?”

“Stay back,” warned Charles, pointing his cricket bat at her.

“What. Are you doing. In our house?” asked the girl, punctuating each set of words with a few steps forward. Behind her, Charles soon noticed, were a smaller girl, likely about seven years old, and a boy the older girl’s age that gave off a faint buzzing sound if it was quiet.

“We were just leaving, actually.” Charles took a step back.

“Good,” said the girl.

“Emma,” said the younger girl, “we should go before we’re late for lunch.”

Emma grimaced, turning around towards the two that were with her. “I suppose so. The bird will be angry if we’re late.” She cast one last warning glare over her shoulder at Charles, and then the three of them were gone.

Edwin climbed back out of the hole, with help from a rope Charles had in his backpack, and reported his findings to Charles. “It appears to be a group of syndrigasti: a variant of human with an extra soul. These extra souls give them special abilities, such as the boy’s ability to do so much damage around this place, and the girl’s fire.”

“So, his sister must be one too?”

“Not necessarily. It’s a relatively rare condition, however, it is especially likely in this case. If he cannot find her, and neither can we, she’s likely in a time loop for the living. Only syndrigasti can enter, and we are not that.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad then, does it? He can go in himself and find her.”

“Not if he died in a certain way. If the creature that killed him consumed his extra soul, then he can no longer enter the time loop, as he said before. We will need to get the sister to leave the loop temporarily.”

“How do we do that?”

“I do not know. I suppose if we can find another occupant of the time loop, we may be able to get a message across. For that, however, we’ll need more information from the boy.”

“What about that girl, Emma? She had abilities, didn’t she?”

“We don’t know for sure that she lives there, though it is likely. Unfortunately, they’ve gone, and we still do not know how to enter the time loop.”

Later in the day, the detectives found the boy in the same place as the day before. Charles stood by with his bat while Edwin questioned the wayward ghost. They learned that the boy’s name was Victor, his sister’s name was Bronwyn, and that he had, in fact, died in the way Edwin had suspected. 

The one good thing about all this was that he remembered how to enter the time loop. Charles suggested writing on the cave’s wall and hoping they’d see it when one of them left again. Edwin, however, thought it might frighten the children if they saw a note reading “Bronwyn, your brother is looking for you”, considering Victor had been dead for decades.

Instead, Edwin wrote out a neat note and attached it to the wall of the cave:

Bronwyn Bruntley,

I am from the Dead Boy Detective Agency. We were called in about your brother. His ghost is still on the island in the present day. Until he has closure, he will not move on to his afterlife. Victor’s unfinished business is seeing his sister again. Once you receive this, it would help both of us if you could leave the time loop temporarily to reunite with your brother.

Sincerely,

Edwin Payne

Edwin and Charles stayed on the island late into the evening, watching the mouth of the cave for someone to take Edwin’s note. Eventually, the note seemingly disappeared on its own. It moved like it was being removed from the wall by a hand, but there was no hand. It floated through the cave and disappeared through the other end.

Less than an hour later, two girls and a floating hat emerged from the mouth of the cave, each of them able to see Edwin and Charles (or so they assumed). One of the girls, the one that wore trousers and a shirt, asked, “Are you Edwin Payne?” She held the note in her hands.

“I am Edwin Payne. You must be Bronwyn.”

“I am. You found my brother?”

“We did.”

Victor, who had been all but dragged over near the bog by Charles earlier, stepped closer to the girls.

“Wyn?”

“Victor!”

The two siblings embraced so tightly that anyone else might have bruised a rib from it. Edwin and Charles gave them a bit of space for their little reunion, until, eventually, Edwin had to burst their bubble.

“I do not mean to bring down the room, but since your unfinished business has now been finished, Death will be coming to collect you shortly. Therefore, Charles and I must be going, now.” Edwin turned on his heel and began to walk away, Charles shortly behind him. 

Then, the other girl, Emma, called out, “Wait!” and Edwin stopped. He turned back around to look at her.

“Yes?”

“I don’t know if you work with the living at all, but I’ve been looking for a certain boy since the last war. If I give you a name, can you send the results to our post box in town?”

Edwin’s expression softened slightly, and he pulled out his notebook and pen. “Of course. What is the name?”

“Abraham Portman.”

This second, smaller case did not require that the Dead Boy Detectives remain on Cairnholm. The two of them did, however, have to use their disguises that would allow them to appear living. They searched computers and phone directories until they found the man Emma had been looking for.

The two ghosts finally found Abraham’s house in Florida, in the United States. Mirror hopping there was easy. The difficult part was deciding how to explain it to Emma. Abraham was married by then. He had a wife, two children, and his son even had a son of his own. So much time had passed since Emma was this young. Edwin understood far better than he’d have liked to.

Edwin ultimately wrote Emma, sending the letter to the postbox she gave the address to. Charles looked it over for sensitivity purposes, and then off it went. A week later, Edwin received a letter in return, thanking both he and Charles for putting in the effort to help her, even though she didn’t get the answer she wanted. Attached were a few paper bills as payment.

Although Edwin continued to be baffled as to how she was returning his letters, he continued sending them. As it turned out, despite having so many other children living with you, the novelty of a ‘pen pal’, as she called it, was slow to wear off. 

Letters were sent back and forth between Cairnholm and London regularly for a solid twelve years, and then, suddenly, they stopped. Edwin, unsurprisingly, began to worry. That is, until he received a letter from Florida, instead of Cairnholm.

Emma, it seemed, was doing just fine.

[topazy]

Little dark age

Paring: Rick Grimes × reader

Warning: Swearing, violence

Chapter: 1.03

You look up as Morales walks over to the campfire with a large number of fish. He beams, “Tonight we dine like kings.”

“Whoa,” you say, looking over at Andrea and Amy, who had spent most of the afternoon fishing. “You weren’t kidding, Andrea, when you said you could fish.”

Amy smiles and says, “We have our dad to thank for that. And Dale, he let us borrow his stuff.”

While the others continue to praise the blondes for the amount of food they brought into camp, Morales holds up one of the lines, “Do you want to do the honors or should I?”

You scoff playfully, “I’ll clean them if you cook.”

“Deal,” he says, tossing you three of the fish before placing the rest into a cooler for the time being.

Noticing you pull out your pocket knife, Carl runs off excitedly. “Sammi, can you teach me how to gut a fish?”

“Sure thing, rugrat, as long as it’s okay with your mom?” You make eye contact with Lori for the first time since you overheard her and Shane arguing.

“You’ll get no complaints from me.”

He watches, almost hypnotized, as you explain where to insert the knife. “Can I do it?”

“No, not yet anyway.”

He pours up at you, “Why not?”

“Because I need to be sure you know what you’re doing. I don’t want your mom or dad hunting me down because you’ve lost a finger,” you laugh. “Tell you what? I’ll do the first two, then you can do the last one, okay?”

He nods. True to your word, you gut the first two fish, then help guide Carl while he does the third one. “That’s it, kid. Take it nice and slow so you don’t cut yourself or me.”

Lori watches her son and smiles when he proudly shows off what he’s doing. You notice Dale walking over to join the rest of the camp with a concerned look on his face. “Something wrong, Dale?”

“I don’t want to alarm anyone, but I think we may have a bit of a problem.”

—

You stay behind in camp to finish preparing the fish, while the others go and investigate what’s wrong with one of the men in your small group of survivors who was apparently acting differently than normal. Jim had been digging holes in the ground nonstop since sunrise; personally, you didn’t think that was much cause for concern.

Sensing someone behind you, look back and see Lori. “I thought you’d gone with the others.”

“I wanted to say thank you for what you did with Carl; it’s been hard on him with Rick coming back and leaving again, and you’ve taught him a lot. It takes his mind off things.”

You shrug. “I don’t mind; he’s a sweet kid.”

An awkwardness lingers between the two of you. She clears her throat. “The other day...”

“Look, Lori, I’m going to tell you what I told Shane. I don’t want to know anything.”

Her voice begins to crack. “I thought my husband was dead. Otherwise, I never would have done what I’ve done.”

You found it ironic how similar she and Shane sounded to one another. “It’s not my business or my place to judge.”

She sits down across the campfire from you and picks up a cutting board that has a couple of vegetables on it while struggling to hold back tears of what you presume were guilt.

“Sammi!”

Hearing the panic in Shane’s voice, you let the fish down and started to run up the small hill. “What’s going on?”

“Jim’s gone batshit crazy.”

—

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you let out a deep sigh. You couldn’t wait for your shift on watch to end so you could get some sleep. It was still daylight, but you could feel the shaft of a migraine coming on. It didn’t help that Carol wasn’t talking to you; you weren’t sure if it was because of the faint slap-shaped bruise on your face or because you helped clean Shane’s hand after he beat her husband.

Dale sits down beside you on top of the RV. “Jim says he can’t remember why he started digging those holes.”

“Sunstroke can make people do peculiar things. As long as he stays in the shade and keeps drinking water, he should be fine soon.”

You had removed the extra layers of clothing Jim didn’t need, then tried to cool his sunburnt skin down with water before ordering him to drink plenty of it. But since he tried to attack Shane, the former cop tied Jim to a tree as a precaution, so now you would all take turns cooling Jim down and making sure he drank plenty of fluid.

“I suppose you’ve probably seen worse than someone going a little coocoo in the heat.”

“Yeah,” you say, pulling your knees up closer to your chest. Seeing Jim act the way he did definitely reminds you of the men in your platoon suffering from combat stress.

“I’m sure you're all too familiar with dealing with heatstroke; I imagine a lot of soldiers got it.”

“Honestly, I try not to think about my time in the army, Dale.”

—

Groggily, you rub at your eyes and yawn; you had only just woken from your nap, which thankfully seems to have helped your oncoming headache. It was now nighttime, and I needed to check on Jim. Lost in your own thoughts, you’re completely startled when someone grabs your ankle.

“You stupid bitch.”

“Ed, let go of me, or I’ll scream!”

You didn’t notice Ed was leaning out of his tent smoking when he started walking by; his face was swollen and bruised. He scoffs, “And risk bringing every walker nearby with it?”

“I’m only going to say it one more time. Let fucking go of me, or I will scream for Shane, and he will kill you this time.”

His grip tightens on your ankle, but you pull your handgun from its holster and hit him in the face, causing blood to pool from his nose. “Carol and Sophia would be better off without you.”

You quickly turn to leave and nearly walk directly into a walker. Jumping out of the way, the walker falls to the ground directly in front of Ed. He begs for help, but you’re frozen and do nothing. Seconds later, the realization of what’s happening sinks in, and you pick up a rock and bash the walker's skull. His blood attracts the smell of more walkers, so you run from the tents back towards the RV, where everyone else would be gathered.

Your stomach drops as you hear screams.

The main part of the camp was in complete chaos; there were walkers everywhere. “Get the kids into the RV now!”

“Mom! Dad!”

You see Eliza Morales' daughter standing away from the rest of the group. You run and snatch her up just before a walker bites her. Using a wooden bat, you try to hit as many as you can; you don’t have many bullets left, and the noise is only attracting more of them.

“Get down!”

Holding Eliza, you duck down, and Rick shoots a walker with his shotgun that was coming up behind you. “Shh, shh, shh, don’t look, okay? Keep your eyes closed.”

The young girl closes her eyes as you carry her back to her parents. When you reach them, you see Andrea sobbing over Amy’s body.

[i520u]

the asshole upstairs ༘*.ﾟ

MY FIRST YEONJUN REQUEST 😭😭😭🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 anyways might’ve went overboard with this one & i feel like it could be a series tbh yeonjun is fun to write for (because i am madly in love with him)

WARNING(S): yeonjun x gn!reader, profanity, mentions of alcohol, mentions of smoking, physics 😟

WORDCOUNT: 1,778 words

MASTERLIST

“The Archimedes’ Principle states that—”

“The Archimedes’ Princip…”

“Th— FUCK!”

It was three in the morning, you were approximately 6 hours and 27 minutes away from the moment you’ve been dreading most; your physics finals. You had spent all week, or maybe even the whole month preparing for your exam, but you were still burning the midnight oil because you were scared, and mostly because you couldn’t sleep.

It was peaceful for a while, no sound of kids running in the hallway outside, no sound of couples arguing next door, and no sound of television bypassing your four walls. It was calm… until it wasn’t. Your neighbour upstairs probably thought it was funny for them to vacuum the floors in the dead of night, but it’s okay. You can still focus. What you couldn’t bear to stand was the fact that he started to loudly play his guitar afterwards. And horribly, too. Talk about being inconsiderate.

Now you didn’t actually have to memorise whatever Archimedes had stated about buoyancy, that was high school Physics. But you were terrified out of your mind that you wouldn’t be able to do well for this semester’s finals. It was like a life and death situation for you. You needed to get everything in order.

You took in a deep breath, calming yourself as you begin to mumble the Archimedes’ Principle once again from memory. Just as you were about to say the first word, again came the loud, and not to mention, horrendous noise music that your neighbour was making. You slammed the pen that you were holding onto the desk out of anger.

“Who the fuck keeps doing that!” You hissed to yourself. You decided to put the hood of your hoodie up to cover your messy hair, and immediately stomped your way out of your apartment without thinking twice.

It didn’t take long for you to reach the floor above you, your index finger angrily pressing onto the doorbell a bunch of time. You didn’t care if you looked disheveled, you just wanted to give your neighbour a piece of your mind. As you were about to start banging on their door, it clicked open.

A man probably around your age peeked outside to see who was in front of his doorstep, he flashed an awkward (or nervous?) smile to you. “Ah… I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” He asked, trying to make the situation lighthearted. Your eyebrows furrowed in fury, you put your hands on your hips. “What do you think? I’m trying to study but your god awful music is distracting me!”

You had to admit, the anger that you had was probably from the pent up stress that you’ve been accumulating throughout the entire month. But he deserved it. The man looked around you awkwardly before flashing you a smile, “sorry! I’ll stop. Good night!” He said, giving you a wave, and then closing the door on your face. You could even hear the door click again — meaning he had locked the door, too.

You stood them, dumbfounded. Not only was he inconsiderate, he was also rude and shameless. There was nothing else that you could do but walk away, but you decided that from that moment onwards, he was your public enemy.

You understood why it’s not advised to stay up all night before a test. The amount of times you had fallen asleep while answering the exam questions was outrageous. You just hoped that your answers were accurate, there wasn’t anything else you could do about it.

You were overall having a bad day, with your crazy neighbour, with your exam, and also with the fact that no cab wanted to drive you home from the subway station. Not even the universe was gonna let you wallow in self-pity peacefully. As there were no other options, you decided to walk home.

The first thing you did upon reaching home was to stand outside your apartment’s balcony to smoke. You don’t do it often, but when the times are trying like these, you deserve at least one smoke.

It was only your second puff when you heard somebody whistling from above. You scrunched your nose in disgust, you hadn’t realised that you had catcallers in your apartment complex. Ultimately, you decided to ignore the whistles, but it was getting annoying. Sighing, you turned your body around so you could look up easier. Of course it was the same rude, shameless, FREAK of a neighbour.

“How’d you do? Your test?” He asked, quite loudly so you would be able to hear him. You decided to ignore him, his pretty face wasn’t enough to persuade you to converse with him. You heard him tutting in disbelief as you continued to ignore him, enjoying your smoke silently. “Oh, c’mon. I said I was sorry.” He continued, you could feel him burning holes into your skull and you sighed at that feeling.

“Don’t talk to me.” You answered without looking at him. You could hear him giggling slightly. “I’m Yeonjun, by the way.” You rolled your eyes upon hearing that. Rude, shameless, freak, and annoying. “I don’t care.” You replied. “Hey, look at me for a sec.” His voice had a faint of amusement as he talked to you, and it annoyed you even more. You continued to ignore him.

“In case you didn’t hear me, I said look at me for a sec!” Ignored. “Heeeeey!” Ignored. “Come onnnn!” Ignored. “Pleaseeeee? Pretty please?” Ignored. “Pretty please with cherries on top?” Ignored. “Aw, c’mon! Don’t be such a baby!”

You sighed as you turned around to face him once again. He was holding three bottles of soju, dangling them in his hands as you stared at him. You could use a drink, if you were being honest. “Come here if you want some.” He said it playfully, you hesitated for a moment, but you decided that there was no harm in coming over. “I’ll be there in a minute.” You announced.

Yeonjun chuckled, “how cute.”

It didn’t take long for you to reach his house, and it was already unlocked by the time you were there. Yeonjun was already seated in the living room. “This is my apology to you,” he explained, flashing you another one of his smiles. You hadn’t noticed it before, but he was extremely good looking. You looked around his house as you made your way to him.

You assumed that he probably has a girlfriend of sorts, his house was fairly neat — something you would never expect from a man living on his own. “Drink up…” he trailed off, waiting for you to introduce yourself. Your eyebrows raised as you took one bottle from the table, “Y/N.” You told him, before taking a huge sip of soju. “Y/N!” He cheered.

“I didn’t remember you looking this pretty last night. Shit, if I had known that you were this cute, I would’ve been way nicer to you.” He joked, throwing his head back as he sipped more from his own bottle. You frowned at his words, “so you were aware that you were being an asshole? And a douchebag?” He nodded shamelessly, when he noticed the evident frown on your face, he gave you a wink. “I wasn’t going to listen to you scolding me at three in the morning while being shirtless.” He added to his defense.

You rolled your eyes once more, you had preferred to focus on the drink rather than the man himself. You felt him scooting closer towards you, nudging you with his elbow. “Don’t be mad, I’m an even bigger douchebag once you get to know me!” He continued joking, giggling to himself like he’s the funniest person ever. He reached for the remote control for the TV to put something on for the two of you to watch.

“What do you feel like watching today?” He asked without sparing you a glance. You gave it a thought, you let out a giggle as you thought of a movie to watch. “Little Mermaid,” you told him, you were expecting him to judge and disagree, but he immediately put it on for the two of you to watch.

Yeonjun seemed to know some of the songs, confidently singing the parts that he knew. He was a strange man, you had to admit that. He seems to be fine with being shallow, he’s not scared to invite a random stranger to get drunk with him alone in his house, and now he’s singing to Disney movies. The fact that he had been vacuuming his floors and playing his guitar in the dead of night didn’t sound so weird anymore.

“So, what do you do Y/N? You’re a student?” He asked leaning against the sofa, his head casually falling onto your shoulder as he eyed you. You nodded, “I’m gonna graduate soon, and probably work some mundane fucking job.” He liked your answer, his face showed how amused he was. “Then don’t work! Do something you actually like.” He told you, but you couldn’t help but snicker at his response.

“I didn’t take you for an optimist, Yeonjun.” He jolted upon hearing you say that. “Optimist? I’m just rich. I don’t have to work like you,” he shrugged, he looked prideful as he told you that, obviously flaunting his wealth. “Prick.” You mumbled under your breath as you took a big sip of soju.

The two of you continued watching the movie and talking in between the scenes, you were curious about him. He was a huge asshole, but at the same time he wasn’t. He tries to console you when you share something about yourself like how you had probably flunked your tests, but then he would say something extremely self-absorbed it’ll leave you speechless.

He shared a lot about himself, but at the same time you felt like you still didn’t know who he was. You honestly couldn’t tell when he was joking and when he wasn’t. Perhaps it was the alcohol that was stopping you from fully understanding his character. Or perhaps he’s just a big asshole.

When the movie ended, Yeonjun was fairly disappointed upon realising that you were immediately going to leave, “are you leaving?” He asked, looking up at you as you sat up from the sofa. He looked like a puppy as he stared at you. You nodded, stretching a little after not moving for so long. He frowned as he made his way to the front door to see you out.

“Don’t you wanna stay?” Yeonjun continued asking despite you already having one foot out of his house. You stopped in your tracks as you looked at him. “No.” You deadpanned, before sliding your feet into your slippers. Yeonjun was a little taken aback by your answer, but he remained calm.

“Y/N, you’re so mean to me.” He told you as he watched you make your way to the stairway. You mouthed a half-hearted sorry as you continued to walk, “it’s kinda hot, actually. I like it!” He added, raising his voice a little higher so you would be able to hear him from the distance. Your body jolted as you immediately turned back to look at him, “what did you just say?”

Yeonjun gave you a wink, as he waved at you. “See you tomorrow.”

[maximoff-forevermore]

Tumblr Wrapped: BLORBOS!!

thank you sm for the tag @healmydesires 💋🫶🫶

tumblr wrapped canva template<3

i have SO much to say, but then again, i always do

i’ll start with my top five, and then do some honourable mentions because five fics is NOT a big enough list for me

1. Red Light by @kiwisbell

you may NEVER hear me stop talking about this fic. EVER. Red Light!Joel has taken up more headspace than anything else in a good long while, and i’ve reread this fic so many times if you asked me to rewrite it from memory i probably could, but i wouldn’t, because i’d never do it the justice kiwi did. this fic basically belongs to me, because no one can love it as much as me. i could go on and on, but there’s not enough time in the world.

2. The Dress Series by @janaispunk

can i let y’all in on a secret? i got the outrageous honour of talking to jana about the third part in this series, it’s like getting a shoutout from an artist winning a grammy, only better. this series restarted my obsession with dave, and i’ve had such brainrot about him since i started. LORD HAVE MERCY ON MY SOUL it’s so good, and the taylor titles GOD.

3. Las Mañanas by @kiwisbell

i had to be very careful, or else every fic on my top five list would be one of kiwi’s and people would think i’m biased (i am, just a little). so i only chose my two favourites, and this series was one of them. it brought so much light and life to the minutes i spent reading it, and i just had the best time!! javi my beloved, you have such a special place in my cold, dead heart, you wife-loving POOKIE!!

4. The In My Hometown Series by @swiftispunk

A SERIES INSPIRED BY ‘TIS THE DAMN SEASON *buries face into pillow and screams* ‘tis the damn season is one of my all time favourite songs, and it was done SUCH JUSTICE. this fic had just the right amount of everything, and i’m so grateful i got to read it!!

5. Punishment by @joelsgreys

OOOOOH HOT DAMN. there was something about this fic that made me drool, because hELLO JOEL MILLER?? gods that man is FINE AS FUCK, and this fic so perfectly captures that😫😫 i had the time of my fucking life reading it, and it was so SO worth every second. my next, pls joel🙏

those fics have such a special place in my heart, but so do many others, let’s go through them!!

Is It Over Now? by @planet-marz1 OH this one is my SHIT!!! angst is so delicious for twelve months of the year, and this one shot was me being FED. i loved every minute, and fuck joel, not in the horny way this time🙄

Sexfiles.mp3 by @beskarandblasters tim rockford, the grandma investigator, and love of my life WHERE have you been all this time?? this fic gave me that alligator-jiggling fever

the Seams series by @fuckyeahdindjarin MY BELOVED POOKIES!!!! i love lucy to the ends of the earth, and joel and pins have the CUTEST fucking relationship on the planet

A Lover’s Pinch series by @hier--soir pull me out of the dumpster and fuck me sideways GOOD MORNING TO YOU TOO??? gods the sex is just so BXKANDIWNSKW clawing at my fucking WALLS!!!! i haven’t finished this series yet but when i do you may NEVER hear the fucking end of me🗣️🗣️

the Pretty Little Wife series by @beardedjoel OH MAMA, i need a fan because it is HOT AS HELL in here😫😫these fics give me such housewife-fever, i love them just a bit TOO much

Real Gods Require Blood, by @pr0ximamidnight you guys have no FUCKING idea how obsessed i am with this fic. the minute it’s possible to make fics into physical things, i will turn this fic into cocaine and snort it faster than you can scream “he’s evil!”, and even if you did scream it, i wouldn’t care, because WOW is he hot as hell

Feelings on Fire by @joelscruff CAN WE TALK ABOUT IT. CAN WE TALK ABOUT IT. CAN WE—im so obsessed. and i don’t mean that lightly. this series has CHANGED ME. i am moved. i am reborn. i am SOMETHING ELSE. i can’t get over this series i’m not sorry, it’s just so so SO good

and last, but definitely NOT least, Truth or Dare, ALSO by @joelscruff I’M SO UNWELL. I NEED HIM. I NEED THIS. I AM IN DIRE, DESPERATE NEED OF THIS FIC. it’s so so close to my heart, i actually physically cannot get over it. like, guys, GUYS. this fic is such a go-to of mine, and so close to my heart.

and that was my long, long, LONG list, but honestly, i’m not even halfway done. so many fics and so many fic writers have changed my life, and if i was less tired and had more energy to type, i’d list them all<3

all the love to every single fic writer out there, you are doing the most, and if you need someone to read something you’ve written or you think i’ll enjoy something, don’t hesitate to send it my way!!

tagging everyone who wants to participate!!!

as always, my obligatory taylor gifs:

[projectionistwrites]

EQUIFINALITY | SPRING

PART TWO, sequel to GESTALT

Joel Miller x afab!reader (6.2k+)

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: angst, grief, graphic depictions of injury & medical treatment, discussions about murder & death, age gap (not mentioned), allusions to smut DISCLAIMER: although this is a continuation of my series titled GESTALT, it could potentially be read as a standalone. however, i strongly suggest reading the first series to provide context for the reunion and background on the relationships between the characters. this part is genuinely upsetting, i’m sorry in advance. NOTES: this part takes place after the finale episode, when ellie and joel return to jackson.

← previous part | next part →

He slept for almost 36 hours straight when they finally arrived back in Jackson.

He at least had the mind to shower before he collapsed into the mattress—scrubbing away the accumulation of filth and grime that his body had collected throughout the course of the past few months with Ellie. He spent an unreasonable amount of time picking at the dried blood beneath his fingernails—mostly because he wasn’t sure if it was his own, or someone else’s.

He nearly pissed himself when something smacked him on the backside of the head, startling him awake with a jolt and immediately forcing him into a sitting position.

When he regained his bearings, he saw Ellie standing next to the bed with a cheeky grin on her face, the pillow she’d hit him with clutched tightly in her hands. Joel reached a hand to cradle the back of his head, still reeling from the sudden and abrupt intrusion on his rest.

“Now why the hell would you go and do a thing like that?”

He tried to sound angry, intimidating, but his grogginess created a more bewildered tone than anything. Ellie snickered wickedly, her eyes lit up with mischief.

“I was making sure you weren’t fuckin’ dead. You’ve been asleep for more than a day.”

Joel’s eyes darted from her figure out towards the window, where the afternoon sun was just beginning to fall, the horizon line painted with fiery shades of crimson and gold. His brow furrowed.

“We got in early this mornin’, what are you even talking about?”

He laid back down with a grunt, making a move to roll over and get some more shut-eye, but Ellie grabbed his shoulder and forced him to stay facing her.

“No, genius. We got in early yesterday morning.”

He slowly pulled himself upright in bed, again, face pinched together in confusion.

“No, that’s not—no.”

He insisted, although he forced himself to shimmy from beneath the covers and onto his feet, walking towards the window to gaze outside more closely.

Ellie watched his movements with a mixture of confusion and amusement.

“Seems like you really needed the sleep, huh, Joel?”

His brain felt foggy, muddied with exhaustion. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d allowed himself to sleep freely—but in the comfort of a home, with four walls and a roof, an inviting mattress with somewhat intact blankets, he finally succumbed to the fatigue that consumed him.

Joel startled when Ellie lightly smacked the pillow against his back in an effort to regain his attention.

“Your brother’s waiting for you outside. I would’ve let you sleep forever, but he told me to come wake you up.”

He ran a tired hand down his face before he settled both hands on his hips, looking down at Ellie just as her lips curled into a teasing grin.

“Besides, your girlfriend is worried about you.”

Joel blinked, his brows lowering into a glare that he aimed towards the girl.

“Knock it off. Go tell Tommy I’ll be there in five minutes.”

When she finally left him in peace, her footsteps fading down the staircase with heavy stomps, Joel sat back down on the edge of the bed, trying to quell the headache that was already forming behind his eyes. Christ, he’d really slept that long?

His mind flickered to you. He hadn’t seen you since he'd returned—of course, you were the first thing on his mind when he’d passed through the gates of Jackson, but he was too ashamed to face you. Your most recent interaction hadn’t been particularly friendly, and he wasn’t quite sure how you’d react to seeing him, even several months later.

But Ellie had already stopped in to see you—he caught sight of the butterfly bandages placed atop the gouge in her forehead, holding the wound closed with precision. He imagined the gentleness in your fingers as you’d treated the wound, the fondness in your eyes that undoubtedly sparked when you spoke with the girl—the same look you’d once held for Sarah.

With a grunt, he pushed himself to his feet again, slipping a flannel over his black t-shirt and lacing up his boots. Much to his surprise, he found himself pausing in the entrance of the bathroom to check his appearance. There was a toothbrush, and toothpaste, and he allowed himself to indulge in the amenities the quaint household provided—rinsing his face with cool water, putting on deodorant, combing through his grown-out hair with his fingers. God, when was the last time he’d actually thought about how he looked? You always brought out the strangest parts of him.

Tommy lifted a brow when his brother finally exited the front door, closing it shut behind him.

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

He teased, smirking lightly at Joel. The man rolled his shoulders back, feeling his joints pop and his bones creak in protest. He cracked his neck before fixing his eyes on Tommy.

“Why’d you let me sleep so long?”

Tommy chuckled, beginning to trek towards the town square with Joel trailing closely behind.

“I know how you are about keepin’ watch while you’re out there. When’s the last time you got more than a few hours of shut-eye?”

Joel didn’t reply, which was enough of a response for Tommy to know his assumptions had been correct.

“Where’s Ellie?”

He asked finally, immediately noticing the lack of the girl’s presence—especially considering that they hadn’t been apart for practically a year.

“At the stables. She likes helpin’ out there, gets along with the horses.”

Joel hummed in response.

They walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence, interrupted only by the crackling of gravel beneath their uniformed footfalls.

Tommy walked him right to the entrance to the MEDICAL facility.

“She don’t wanna see me.”

Joel grumbled, and although his eyes were cast to the ground, they quickly shot up to stare at his brother at the sound of his incredulous laughter. Tommy shook his head at him.

“Oh, please. She’s been worryin’ herself sick over your sorry ass.”

Joel’s expression softened a bit at Tommy’s admission, and the nerves that were clinging to his insides were briefly replaced with a pang of guilt. His brother sighed, leaning in a bit closer and lowering his voice.

“Look, you didn’t hear this from me, alright? But—about three days after you took off, she tried to follow you.”

Joel felt his jaw go slack at the information, his fingers clenching into fists at his sides.

Tommy took notice of his reaction, but continued nonetheless.

“Tried to sneak out between guard shifts. Luckily Maria and I caught her in time—I had a feelin’ she'd pull somethin’ like that, but—she was a wreck, Joel. Haven’t seen her so upset since her momma’s funeral.”

Joel’s eyes fell to the ground once more, his throat feeling hoarse with emotion. He didn’t deserve that. You shouldn’t have been willing to risk your life for him. Not after everything he’d done.

Tommy clapped a hand onto Joel shoulder.

“Go on, man. She’ll be glad to see you’re still kickin’—and she’ll be able to help you with all your...”

Tommy gestured to Joel’s face with a vague wave of his hand, referencing the various nicks and bruises he’d acquired along his journey.

Joel watched his brother walk away from him, hands sitting heavy in his pockets.

Someone exiting the clinic brought his attention back to the building in front of him—he watched a teenage girl with ginger hair shuffle out of the door, a plastic baggy of feminine products clutched tightly in her hands.

Joel reached to hold the door open for her, and she offered him a brief grateful smile before departing, leaving the man to enter the waiting room with his stomach churning with nerves.

There were people in there, this time. An older gentleman in a rocking chair, a dated magazine held in front of his face, and a young Asian man sitting behind the makeshift reception counter. The boy smiled meekly as Joel cautiously walked further into the place.

“Welcome in. You’re... Joel, right?”

He asked, brows raised knowingly. Joel nodded, a bit surprised that his name was already known to someone outside of his immediate circle.

The boy turned to the other occupant of the room.

“Hey, Ron? Do you mind coming back in tomorrow morning? Doc said that him and the girl get priority treatment.”

The boy jutted his thumb towards Joel in reference, and he stuttered.

“Wha—no, I don’t need—”

“No problem, Ian. Let ‘er know I stopped by, okay? Just wanted her to check on my bum shoulder.”

Ron accepted the news graciously, a bit overzealous for what the situation called for. He stood to take his leave, offering a crooked smile to the two other men.

“Tell Y/N I said to have a good night.”

He winked playfully, and Joel’s nose crinkled slightly, although Ian just laughed it off.

“You got it, sir.”

The bell chimed when the door shut behind Ron, and Ian turned back to Joel.

“She’ll just be another minute.”

He assured, subtly hinting that Joel could take a seat somewhere in the waiting room. The man awkwardly nodded in thanks before slowly making his way over to the nearest piece of furniture. Just as he went to sit himself down on the worn leather sofa, the door to the office pushed open.

“—and just let me know if you’re feeling any more discomfort, okay? Hopefully those meds will help, but if not, we can try something a little stronger.”

Your voice spilled from the open doorway, your figure following closely behind a middle-aged woman whose arm was in a sling.

“Thanks, doc, I appreciate it.”

The woman smiled, and Joel watched your eyes crinkle as you grinned in return.

“Hey, it’s no problem, really. Can’t wait to hear more about the harvest yields for this Spring.”

You sounded sincere, but Joel knew you well enough to recognize the slight sarcastic lilt to your tone, and he felt the corner of his lip twitch upward at your feigned enthusiasm.

The woman nodded gratefully, opening her mouth as if to continue the aforementioned conversation, but then your eyes flitted to Joel’s awaiting figure and you lifted a hand to cut her off.

“Sorry, Opal, but I’ve got another patient to get to. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

You were gentle but firm, and the woman nodded in understanding, eyes passing over Joel briefly before she offered a modest farewell and exited the facility.

The air stagnated between the two of you, eyes simply drinking each other in without words being spoken. After a few tense moments of silence, your face turned towards Ian, although your eyes were still trained on Joel’s face.

“Hey, kid, thanks for your help today. Why don’t you head out early and enjoy the nice weather?”

Ian’s head perked up at your suggestion.

“Really? You sure?”

You glanced at him finally, smiling softly.

“Of course. This’ll be my last client for the day, anyhow. And don’t worry, I’ll still mark you off for the full shift.”

You offered, and the boy thanked you once more before grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and following in Opal’s steps as he pushed through the door.

You were alone.

Joel didn’t know what to say, but luckily, you offered him some reprieve by breaking the silence yourself.

“So. I see you’re out of hibernation.”

Your right brow quirked upward slightly, the scar on your face creasing as you smirked teasingly at him. He felt himself grow bashful.

“Yeah, I—I guess I didn’t realize how tired I was ‘til I woke up a day and a half later.”

The angelic sound of your laughter was divine as you regarded him softly, a warm smile lighting up your features.

“Hey, your body obviously needed the sleep. Heard you’ve been through Hell and back since the last time I saw you.”

His face darkened slightly, his features turning stony. He shifted his gaze away from your face, knowing that you were the only person capable of cracking him open with just a single glance.

“What all did she tell you?”

He asked quietly, referring to Ellie. You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back against the doorframe.

“Most of it, I think.”

Joel rolled his eyes, a low groan of annoyance escaping him.

“Can never keep her fuckin’ mouth shut.”

He mumbled to himself, but you obviously heard.

“Hey, don’t be mad at her. Like I told you before, I’m easy to talk to. That’s part of my job, anyway—70 percent doctor, 20 percent therapist.”

Your smile was lopsided as you joked with him.

“What about the other ten?”

He questioned, feeding into your playful banter. You laughed.

“Ten percent is me pretending to know what the fuck I’m doing.”

A small smile invaded his face before he could stop it, and you reciprocated the gesture, your eyes twinkling with triumph at your ability to make the seemingly unbreakable man surrender his defenses, even if just for a second.

You gestured with a slight nod of your head for him to join you in the examination room—you were a bit embarrassed with yourself when you felt your heart rate pick up when Joel started walking towards you, your face flushing when he briefly towered over you while brushing past through the door.

Without any prompting, he found his place on the steel exam table without complaint. You let the door click shut behind you as you walked towards your desk, grabbing a pair of latex gloves.

“Heard someone tried to use you for batting practice.”

You started, making your way towards him on the table. He shook his head slightly at your joke, his hand instinctually reaching up to rest over where the wound was still healing.

“Yeah. It—well, wasn’t great. Got infected, too. Told Ellie she shoulda come back here and left me, but she’s too damn stubborn for her own good.”

“Hmm. Sounds a lot like someone else I know.”

You teased, stopping a few feet in front of him. He rolled his eyes.

“Can you take of your shirt?”

Your question startled him, his body tensing as he lips parted slightly, brows furrowed as he studied your face. Your inquiry was serious, he realized.

“What—I don’t—”

You genuinely hadn’t comprehended the implications of your statement—it was just standard protocol; you needed to examine his injury. But you saw a blush creeping up his cheeks beneath his patchy beard, and your body mimicked the response.

“Sorry. I mean—you don’t have to, but I need to see how everything’s healing up. You can just lift it up if that’d make you more comfortable.”

A wicked retort sprang to his mind and rolled over his tongue—he didn’t even realize he’d said it out loud until he watched your eyes widen at his words.

“If you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask.”

Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Joel’s own eyes widened as his inhale turned sharp, surprised and somewhat appalled with himself. Your expression mirrored his own, heat pooling in your cheeks as you froze, paralyzed.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m sorry, that just—dunno why I said that, just reminded me of that time you—”

“I remember.”

You cut him off curtly, face and neck stinging with embarrassment. It was a call back to one of your prior shameless flirtation attempts when you were young—the same night your mother died, the same night he kissed you for the very first time.

“I’m… surprised, that you do.”

His brows furrowed at that. An ache settled somewhere within his ribcage, squeezing around his heart.

“Darlin’—I remember everythin’. All of it.”

You looked away, trying to keep yourself in the present moment—you could feel yourself slipping back into your memories, the night he’d left you, cold and alone on your living room floor. The things he’d said. The truth he’d spilled.

Joel squeezed his eyes shut, taking a slow deep breath to combat his own humiliation. Before he could wallow in anticipation any longer, he shouldered off his red flannel and lifted the black undershirt over his head, setting it at his side.

Oh, God, you felt faint. Nauseous, even. How many times had you thought about this? Sure, you’d seen Joel shirtless on a couple occasions—at the pool a few times, when he just rolled out of bed in the morning, when the Texas heat was too unbearable. But that was years ago. And now—it felt different, now. More intimate.

You took in a deep breath, walking towards him with purpose. Focus, damnit. This is your job.

But you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the newly exposed skin of his torso. His chest was smattered with faint salt-and-pepper curls, his skin peppered with white scars and abrasions that contrasted the tan of his skin. The muscles of his pectorals flexed, and your eyes wandered over the soft expanse of his stomach, before settling in on the wound on his lower right side.

“Can you lie back for me?”

Your words sounded somewhat breathless, and you cleared your throat, tearing your gaze away from his chest to meet his eyes. There was doubt swirling behind them, insecurity, and your heart yearned to comfort him, to press your lips to every inch of skin and assure him that he’s still as beautiful as he was twenty years ago, your feelings hadn’t changed, Joel, I still love—

Joel heeded your request, turning to the side and cautiously lowering himself down onto his back, the cold steel like ice against his skin, causing him to hiss.

You inhaled through your nose when you finally approached him, closing the gap and leaning in to inspect the area more closely.

It was healing up well, all things considered. The skin surrounding the wound was inflamed, but it certainly could be worse. However, the crude blue thread that had been used to stitch his skin closed was mildly concerning to you.

Joel felt your hair tickle against the skin of his abdomen, the light brush of your gloved fingers tracing over the afflicted area.

He stared up at the ceiling, trying not to focus on the way your hot breath felt against his lower stomach. The last time you’d been this close to him, you were on your knees between his legs the night before his birthday.

“You know,”

He started softly, mulling the words over in his mind before speaking.

“you seem to remember more than I thought you did, too.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your fingers stilling over his skin at his statement. You knew exactly what he was referring to—the confession you’d regrettably included in the farewell letter you’d given him before he left Jackson with Ellie. You probably shouldn’t have remembered, but it was hard not to—the rest of that night was a blur, sure, your memory clouded over from the mixture of liquor and drugs in your bloodstream, but you couldn’t forget the way he’d laid beside you, his lips brushing over your fingers, your hands tracing the outline of his face so you could commit it to memory, keep it close to you. The promise he’d made.

“S’all I’ve ever wanted, Joel. All I think I’ll ever want—to be with you.”

You’d confessed with bleary eyes.

“Will you kiss me, Joel?”

The tenderness in his eyes suffocated you, smothering you with the uncharacteristic softness of his gaze.

“Tell you what,”

he’d said.

“You close your eyes, and keep ‘em closed for five minutes, and I’ll kiss you.”

“I’m gonna have to remove the stitches.”

You stated, tone suddenly cold and matter-of-fact as you pulled yourself out of your recollection.

His head lifted to look at you just as you turned towards the shelf on the wall, retrieving some supplies and setting them on a metal surgical tray.

“Why? S’healin’ fine.”

He insisted, and you pursed your lips, sliding the cart closer to you so you’d have the supplies at the ready.

“We can keep them in, if you really want, but that could lead to some serious complications down the road. This is sewing thread, Joel, it won’t dissolve on it’s own. If your skin heals over it, it could lead to more infection and a nasty looking scar.”

He grunted in acknowledgement, not particularly excited about the prospect of reopening an old wound, picking at the scab. If only he knew that’s exactly what he was forcing you to do...

“Joel? Is that okay? I’ll numb it first.”

You slid your office chair up towards his face, leaning over him slightly to catch his eyes. Your silhouette was framed by the harsh light behind your head, creating a fuzzy halo of glow around you. He nodded dumbly, somewhat hypnotized by your proximity—shit, he’d let you do just about anything to him if you looked at him like that.

He watched you slide back down towards his waist, your hand dipping into the half-empty tub of lidocaine ointment and swiping a generous amount on your index finger. Joel hissed when the cooling sensation hit his skin, your touch smoothing it over his tender flesh carefully.

“Sorry.”

You whispered absentmindedly, reaching for your forceps and a pair of small medical scissors.

“Let me know if it hurts, okay? The internal abrasion seems to be healed, it’s just the entrance wound left. It shouldn’t bleed too much and you shouldn’t be able to feel it, but there might be a slight pinching sensation. Okay?”

“Jesus, you sound like a real doctor.”

He chuckled quietly to himself, folding his hands atop his chest and trying to relax as he felt you move towards the wound. You let out a breath of a laugh.

“Yeah, well, maybe not officially licensed, but by apocalypse standards…”

Your forceps tucked beneath the loop of the first suture, gently coaxing it out from beneath the scar tissue. His abdominal muscles rippled, but you forced yourself to focus.

“I’m about as qualified as they come.”

He let you work in silence for the most part, teeth gritted and jaw clenched tightly as you pulled each stitch out cautiously. He definitely wasn’t gonna admit to you that he could feel each pull of string beneath his skin, tugging against the tender flesh of his insides.

“Ellie didn’t do half bad.”

You chuckled slightly, discarding another removed stitch on your tray.

“Might be givin’ me a run for my money.”

You heard Joel huff.

“Yeah, well, lemme tell you—you’ve certainly got a gentler touch, that’s for sure.”

That earned a giggle from you, although you immediately quieted when Joel grunted in pain as the stitch you were working on got caught on the edge of his torn skin.

“Shit, sorry.”

You whispered, one hand reaching to soothingly rub across the healthy, untarnished skin just above the wound, on his lower stomach. Joel squeezed his eyes shut tightly at the feeling of your fingers brushing across his navel, his brows pinched with pain. Or, at least, you thought it was pain. He knew differently.

When you got down to the final two sutures, your eyes grew soft.

“You’re lucky to be alive, cowboy.”

Your breathy laugh was humorless, more an expression of disbelief than humor. He shook his head in acknowledgement, humming.

“Believe me. Say that to myself that every damn day.”

“No, Joel.”

His head lifted at the sincerity in your tone as you removed the final stitch. You reached for a sterile piece of gauze, soaking it in antiseptic solution before carefully wiping away the blood that had begun to seep from the site of the removed suture.

“This... this should’ve killed you.”

His features softened just slightly as the severity of your remark dawned on him. He knew you were probably right. He’d felt himself slipping several times when he was fighting for his life on that dingy mattress in that musty basement—but he always pulled himself back.

“Couldn’t let that happen.”

He admitted quietly, letting his muscles final relax as you finished cleaning up his injury.

“Ellie... she needed me.”

You were silent as you moved to dispose of the used supplies, putting the rest back in the rightful spots on the shelf.

Joel watched your movements carefully, the contortion of your shoulder blades beneath your deep purple scrubs as you reached up on your tiptoes to put something on a high shelf. When you’d finished, you paused for a moment with your back facing him. He saw your fists clenching and unclenching rhythmically at your sides.

“M’sorry, Joel.”

You finally spoke, voice quiet.

“About everything I said. I shouldn’t have—”

“You were right.”

Joel Miller wasn’t sure he’d ever said those words aloud before—he was never one to admit he was wrong or own up to his mistakes, too prideful and headstrong for his own good. You turned to face him, your eyes cloudy as they scanned his face, scrutinizing his features carefully. He propped himself up on his elbows.

“About Ellie. About—about me. Wouldn’t’ve been able to live with myself if somethin’ had happened to her, if I hadn’t been there. I almost—”

He felt tears spring to his eyes as he thought back on the moment Ellie had rushed into his arms, face speckled with blood.

“—almost lost her, and I couldn’t—”

“—I know.”

You cut him off softly, taking a few steps towards him to sit back down in your chair and roll closer to him. He was grateful that you’d granted him a reprieve from speaking. He rapidly blinked back the tears flooding him.

“She told me. About—about David.”

Joel’s brows lifted, his eyes on yours.

“She did?”

He asked, slightly breathless and entirely surprised.

“She never—I still don’t know everythin’ that happened, she didn’t wanna talk—”

“I think that’s probably for the best.”

You nodded sadly, and Joel watched the movement of your arm as it lifted and reached for his hand, fingers wrapping around his comfortingly. The feeling of your soft skin against the callousness of his palm made his pulse jump.

“I’m—I’m glad she told you.”

He started slowly, eyes still fixated on your intertwined fingers.

“Glad she has someone to talk to.”

Your grin was small, but genuine, and you lifted your other hand to clasp his between both of your own.

“It’s good to get that stuff of your chest.”

You agreed, and Joel nodded quietly, letting his head fall back against the steel table as he stared up at the ceiling. Your next words made him falter.

“Speaking of… you ever gonna tell anyone what really happened in Salt Lake City?”

Joel’s neck almost snapped with how quickly he turned to stare at you. His mouth fell open, and you quickly backtracked at his abrupt reaction, pulling your hands away.

“I mean—it doesn’t have to be me, I’m just sayin’—it’s not good for you, to carry that all by yourself. That shit’s gonna eat you alive.”

His mind was racing, thoughts stumbling over each other at a mile per minute. You must’ve interpreted his silence as disapproval, because you sighed as you rolled your chair across the room towards your desk, busying yourself with the papers that were scattered about.

Joel pushed himself upward into a sitting position, his legs dangling off the side and his back leaning against the wall. He watched you carefully, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth as he reeled.

You cautiously breached the silence that permeated the room, although you still pretended to be preoccupied with another task.

“Ellie told me what you’d said—about what happened. They stopped lookin’ for a cure, there were others who were immune. Who knows, maybe that really is the truth, but I feel like I know you better than that, and I—”

“I killed them.”

It was barely above a whisper, his confession, but you heard it loud and clear. The statement rang through your ears like a church bell, vibrating within your skull. You froze, slowly turning to face Joel once again. He seemed to be staring straight through you, his face set in resolution and jaw rippling as he continued.

“All of ‘em. They—they were gonna kill ’er. The fungus, it’s—s’in her brain, they said the only way to get a sample was to... to—”

You nodded knowingly, standing up from your chair to approach him slowly, your eyes soft and sympathetic. He felt gross, disgusting, repulsive, your gaze far too tender for the atrocities he was admitting to. His breath hitched caught in his throat when he tried to speak again, the tears he had been rapidly blinking away gathering back in his waterline.

“I couldn’t—I couldn’t let them do that, I couldn’t. I mean—she’s just a kid, they didn’t understand, and—they wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I had—had to go through them, it was the only way—only way to save ‘er."

A tear fell from his left eye, overflowing until it slipped down the side of his cheek. He reached up to swipe it away as you finally reached him. You were paused in front of him, standing between his widely spread legs. Your eyes never wandered from his.

You knew what he meant—knew deep down why he did what he did, even if he wouldn’t or couldn’t admit it. He’d lost Sarah. He couldn’t lose another daughter. Not on his watch.

He flinched away when your hand reached up to cradle his face, your thumb swiping over his tear-stained cheek as your fingers slipped behind his ear, threading into his hair. No, you shouldn’t be touching him, he didn’t deserve your pity—

“You can’t tell her.”

He suddenly begged, his hand reaching up to grab your wrist desperately, his eyes wide and pleading.

“She can never know, Y/N, she’d never forgive me, I need you to—“

“It’s alright, cowboy. You have my word. Okay?”

The self-hatred he felt was sickening him, festering deeply in the pit of his stomach even as your thumb rubbed soothingly against his cheek, over his graying beard.

Why didn’t you hate him? Why were you still here? He was a monster, he was evil, sick, twisted—

“Stop.”

He finally came to his senses, using his grip on your wrist to pull your hand away from him and gently urge you to step backwards.

“Stop, don’t—don’t go feelin’ sorry for me, don’t go and—and—you don’t know all the things I’ve done, you don’t—”

“I know you, Joel.”

Even though it was gentle, your tone was firm and insistent.

“I know you. I might not know all the things you’ve done, but that doesn’t change who you are, deep down.”

He shook his head. You didn’t understand, couldn’t understand—

“We’re like trees.”

His brows furrowed at that, confusion evident on his face at your sudden and seemingly random shift in conversation.

“Tree trunks, they—they have rings. The innermost ring of the tree is the oldest, and as the trees grow, as time passes, new rings are added, but the core of it always stays the same.”

You pressed yourself closer again, meeting his resistance with ample willpower.

“It doesn’t matter if the outer layers wither, if they decay, if they’re ugly—it’s still the same tree on the inside.”

He shook his head. You and your stupid fucking analogies.

“You don’t get it. ’M not who I was. I’m—everythin’ about me is bad, Y/N, I’m—I’ve rotted straight through to my core.”

To his surprise, you smiled at him, sad but reassuring, shaking your head.

“No. You’re still here. You’re still standing. If the badness had reached all the way to your middle, you’d just be a stump.”

“Can we stop with this damn metaphor? M’not a fuckin’ tree.”

He grumbled, but then you were moving closer against him, standing between his splayed legs with your hips flush against the metal edge of the table as you pushed your chest against his bare torso. His breath hitched.

“No, you’re not. But you’re still Joel. Yeah, things are different. But I still see him in there, the person I knew, the person I—I loved. See it when you look at Ellie, and Tommy. See it when you laugh. See it in your eyes.”

No, no, no—what was he doing? You were so good, so painfully kind, and good, and his poison was going to seep into your fingertips and taint your perfect disposition.

“Don’t think I’ve ever been the person you thought I was.”

His eyes met yours, and he could see your face fall slightly before you recovered, helplessly trying to change his mind.

“Maybe not. But you already said it today—you remember. You remember the way things were, the person you used to be. Those memories, those reminders—they’re proof. Your now can’t erase the then.”

You felt dizzy, lightheaded—every fiber of your being was screaming at you to stop, back off, you’re gonna hurt yourself all over again, slam the door and walk away—but the despondency in his eyes was simply devastating. It was always his damn eyes.

His entire body seized up tight when you slowly lowered your head down towards his stomach, maintaining eye contact as your warm breath passed over his navel. He watched on silently as your lips brushed over the wound you’d just tended to, featherlight and barely-there, but the touch was searingly hot.

“The same Joel who had magic kisses.”

You raised your head again, lifting your arms to wrap loosely around his neck, coaxing him forward towards you. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. He let you guide him closer into your embrace.

“The same Joel who can’t wrap a damn Christmas gift."

His lip slightly quirked up at the corner as your fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“The same Joel who’s never been to a college party.”

His eyelids fluttered as your nose brushed against his. You were gazing at him from beneath your lashes, tempting and so damn sweet. He felt your warm exhale across his cheeks.

“The same Joel who still owes me that kiss.”

For a brief moment, he lost himself, his mind emptying until all that was left was you, everywhere, overwhelming and all-consuming. But as you leaned forward to close the gap, he knew he couldn’t do this to you. Not again. Couldn’t let you give yourself away to someone so unworthy.

“Your dad.”

He said suddenly, his words loud and intruding in the small distance between you. You felt the vibrations on your lips when he spoke, and you drew back quickly, the haze of desire in your eyes replaced with a puzzled look.

“What?”

Joel stared you down, arming himself against your targeted attacks on his protective barriers.

“Your—your old man. He was one of the doctors at the Firefly hospital.”

His words rammed into you like a fucking semitruck, the wind momentarily knocked out of you. You stumbled back slightly, your shoulders bracing with tension as a new emotion flickered over your face—fear.

“You’re—you’re lying.”

“I’m sorry, darlin’.”

Joel's brief apathy corroded at the sight of such horror on your face, his eyes flooding with tears yet again as he squeezed them shut. He had the sudden uncontrollable urge to wrap you in his arms and shield you from the world, to protect you—but how could he? How could he possibly protect you from himself?

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know—by the time I’d realized, it was already too late, and I—”

“I didn’t even think he was still alive.”

His lids snapped open to look at you once more where the initial shock on your face had worn off, replaced with a frigid sort of acceptance, a jarring finality. Joel felt like he was suffering from whiplash at your abrupt change in demeanor.

“Never got close enough to see him in California. At least now I know.”

You couldn’t be fucking serious. You were just... content with this? Forgiving Joel so easily, so readily? What the fuck was wrong with you?

But then he saw the way your posture shifted, suddenly on the defensive, your stare now pierced with suspicion and criticism. The tenderness in your eyes had shifted to communicate your wariness, your distrust. For the first time, it was like you were looking into the face of a stranger.

Somehow, he felt more comfortable with this than the love you’d so shamelessly displayed for him just moments prior. This, he deserved. This, he could handle.

“Y/N—”

“I think you should go.”

You declared curtly, shutting him out completely as your turned away. You felt your heart begin to split in two all over again—you hated the sudden animosity you felt towards the man you cared so deeply for, but it was threatening to overwhelm you as you listened to him sigh heavily, his feet thumping against the ground as he slid off of the table.

You heard the rustling of his clothes as he slipped his shirt back over his head, his posture sagging lowly as he stared at your back, the distance between you two only widening with each shaky rise and fall of your shoulders.

It was better this way, Joel convinced himself. Better for you to hate him than to love him. Better for him to push you away than to let you back in. Better for both of you to keep moving forward without looking back—better to hurt you a little now before he hurt you a lot later.

He left without another word.

TAGLIST: @spiidergirlsworld @canpillowscry @str84pedro @daddy-din @pedropascal-whore @canpillowscry @pppmitt @thirdoffive @lovekk2plus @elliescumsl0t @kagajgajaguwbeidheubqk @cookielovesbook-akie @kamcrazy123 @ohnosy @dayrdreaming @notsosecretspy @arquiiva (please comment to be added/removed)

[eleanor-bradstreet]

Young at Heart: The Princess (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader Rated: G, the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed Word count: 3.1k

Masterpost

Summary: The Colin monsters attack and you seek an answer from Benedict.

Author's Note: So many folks to thank for this finale chapter. Firstly, to @angels17324 who again had the idea for the adorable interaction with the children. Sweet Benedict being duped by innocent shenanigans is gold! Also to @mysticwitchcraftco for proposing we see the inevitable conversation with Colin after the last chapter. I liked this idea so much I went back and wrote it in! Lastly, to @broooookiecrisp who also championed the Colin convo and helped me craft the ending scene. This chapter was much shorter and weaker without each of you, and I hope you enjoy! 💙

Benedict rushed down the hall, nervous energy coursing through him. All he could see were your lips, soft and parted with bated breath, inviting him in. He still felt the warm thrum of your pulse under his fingertips where he held your wrist, the tingling brush of your noses…

His mind whirred, passion and reason each attempting to roar over one another, a situation he was well familiar with, though it had never been this intense before. He tugged at his cravat, then startled when a voice broke through his thoughts.

“Have your theatrics tired you, brother?”

He whipped around to see Colin, grinning like the cat that ate the canary, sidling up to him. 

“What?” His voice was flustered. “No, I am fine.”

Folding his arms, Colin leaned a shoulder against the wall, smirking. Benedict sometimes thought he had imbued too much of himself into his younger brother. Colin should have spent more time around Anthony’s disciplinarian nature and been molded into a dutiful little lieutenant, not a scamp. Then he would have been easier to deceive. 

“You and Miss y/l/n make quite the pair.”

“What do you mean by that?” Benedict had regained his composure.

Colin shrugged. “Acting partners. You are very convincing at…playing your roles.”

The raised eyebrow said it all. He suspected.

“She is a kind and talented young woman.” Benedict’s voice was low in warning, urging his brother to change course with his questioning.

Colin dismissed his tone entirely. “With whom you are spending an inordinate amount of time.” When his pointed stare didn’t elicit anything further, he gave up the ruse. “Oh, come now Benedict, you’re not as good an actor as you think you are. The heart on your sleeve is bleeding all over the place.”

Benedict deflated. His feelings for you were enough to wrangle with on their own. He didn’t need his family’s opinions on the matter to be mixed in. “The last thing I need is your admonishment…”

Colin looked around innocently. “Who is admonishing anything? I’m not Anthony.” They both sniggered at that. “Did you kiss her then? You may have been out of sight but I heard you breathing all over each other.”

Benedict rolled his eyes. Romantic inquiries from his naive little brother. Who would have thought he would ever see the day? But he knew he was not being judged, and it was an undeniable relief to have someone to confide in. “We would have, but she jumped away to tend to the children.” He hung his head, chewing on his lip. “This is complicated.”

“More or less complicated than the kitchen girl you helped me rendezvous with?” 

Now it was Benedict’s turn to smirk, remembering how he had stood watch while his teenage brother crept down the servant’s stairs to meet with the doe-eyed cook’s apprentice in the dead of night. He had told Colin how not to be a fool in their encounter, and figured that anything else they got up to was good experience for him. This felt different though, deeper somehow, but he wouldn’t reveal that.

“It’s time I returned the favor.” Colin walked over to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll keep your secrets. Do you know if she shares your feelings?”

Benedict sighed. “I think so, but I’m not certain. Perhaps I overwhelmed her.”

“You?” Colin balked. “Unable to restrain your passion? It beggars the imagination!”

The dripping mockery was enough. “Oh, what a wonderful help you are.” Benedict shrugged him off with a grimace and began storming down the hall again.

“Brother, stop!” Colin called after him. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” When his brother turned again, the exasperated expression he wore was one rarely seen. It made him drop all his taunting. He pitied the poor man. “You don’t want to go scaring her off the property. She’s very lovely and much needed here. Take some time apart and see if she approaches you.”

Benedict paused, mulling over his words, then finally nodded. “Alright. Thank you.” Brow arched warily he asked, “Is this foolish?”

It was odd to find himself in the position of giving advice to his older brother, particularly in matters of the heart, but Colin felt determined to help him. He instinctively knew the answer to his question. 

“To follow your heart’s desire? Usually.” He shrugged. “But that’s never stopped you before.”

As a wide smile broke out over Benedict’s face, Colin knew that he would be alright. He clapped him on the back and urged him down the hall. “Now, let’s find something to eat.”

—

It was clear that something significant had occurred between you because Benedict avoided you for the next two days. He had been so impossible to miss ever since he arrived, that his pointed absence now was tangible. You didn’t know what to expect. You didn’t think you had done anything inappropriate. You felt certain it was him who had been violating the bounds of propriety with you. But women in your position had been sacked for less, and so you hovered in a nervous limbo, waiting to encounter him in a hall, or waiting for the Viscountess to unceremoniously request your resignation. Thankfully, you had the children to keep yourself occupied, and your hands were entirely full when a day of pouring rain kept you all cooped inside the nursery.

The boys had tired of their figurines and their paints, and they groaned at the offer of another storybook. Augie and Neddy were sporting the stern brows of their fathers, and Barney was entirely despondent. Only Caroline seemed to be enjoying herself, as she pulled up to stand against the rails of her crib and giggled at everyone. When you asked what they would all prefer to do instead, Augie spoke first.

“I want biscuits.”

You sighed, prepared to remind him that they must wait for their tea to have biscuits, but before you could respond, Barney staggered toward you with outstretched arms and wriggling fingers.

“Rawr!” He crowed, “I am the Colin monster. Give me biscuits!”

The cleverness of this little one, and the memory of the annoyance on real Colin’s face made you grin.

“Yes!” Neddy chimed in, mimicking his smaller cousin and adopting a squeaky growl, “I am a Colin monster too! You must give me biscuits!” No doubt they thought this was the method to secure some treats. If you could play along and keep them occupied for a while longer, you would reach teatime and everyone would be satisfied. 

“Oh no!” You brought your hands to your face in mock horror. “Not the Colin monsters! You cannot have my biscuits, I haven’t baked any today!” Then the three boys tore across the room toward you, snorting and roaring, hands grasping for your skirts as you scurried in circles around the nursery, always keeping two steps ahead of them. This was something you so adored about children, how they made you one of their own and reminded you how to lose yourself in simple fun. You all chuckled breathlessly as you ran, and Caroline watched with glee, ratcheting up and down on her nubby legs and cheering on the spectacle. When you had rounded the last piece of protective furniture and found yourself in a corner, you sank to your knees, hands clasped before you.

“Please have mercy Colin monsters! I swear I have no biscuits for you!”

“Then we shall have to eat you!” Neddy declared, and launched himself into your midsection. You fell backward, holding him to save him from the fall, and found yourself laughing helplessly as he and then Barney clambered on top of you, poking with their tiny fingers and baring their entirely-not-frightening teeth.

“Help! Help!” You called with faux despair, barely able to catch your breath from mirth. The three of you were so giddy, shrieking as they pinned you down and tickled you relentlessly, that you did not see Augie run out of the room nor hear the footsteps that came pounding down the hall minutes later. 

You were crying out in feigned agony as Barney pretended to chew on your fingers when over his shoulder you saw Benedict come skidding through the doorway, white as a sheet.

“Miss y/l/n?!” He was panting, entirely disheveled, in just a shirt and braces with his sleeves rolled up, forearms streaked with paint.

“Mr. Bridgerton?” You froze, staring at him as the tiny monsters continued to crawl over you.

He strode across the room and you could see the panic in his eyes. “Are you alright? Boys, what’s going on?”

Gently but firmly, he pulled each of them off of you and stood them upright.

Neddy turned to growl at his uncle, waggling his fingers in Benedict’s face. “I am the Colin monster and I have no biscuits so I’m going to eat Miss y/l/n!”

Immediately Barney whined, “No, I am the Colin monster!” Then the two of them began to argue with one another, stomping away to settle the dispute.

Benedict knelt beside you as you propped up on your elbows. For a moment you felt embarrassed at him finding you in such a position, but the genuine concern in his eyes melted away your self-consciousness. He scanned you over as if expecting to find some injury and you could see clearly that he was shaken.

“Augie came running and begging for help. He said you needed me. I thought…”

“We needed the prince to rescue the princess!” Augie suddenly appeared next to Benedict, smiling proudly and explaining his actions as if they were the most obvious thing in the world.

Benedict looked between you both, piecing together the innocent cause behind his terrified dash. You were worried that this would increase his aggravation with you. You still could not decipher what he was thinking since your flustered encounter in the theater and the last thing you wanted was to cause him unnecessary distress. But your anxieties started to ebb when he finally allowed himself to exhale and a small grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “I see.”

Then he reached out and took your hand, pulling you carefully to your feet. “Are you sure you’re alright?” His eyes carried an undeniable warmth and his voice was soft, the question meant for your ears alone, a honeyed tone that ran thick across your skin. You couldn’t help but sense that he was asking something greater. Asking how you felt about more than just being besieged by the children.

“Yes.” You returned a grateful smile. “I was only being attacked by the two miniature Colin monsters, as you can see. But I am quite well, thank you.”

He grinned that ruinous crooked grin and straightened his spine. “Good. I’m glad your anguished screams were only caused by these two.” Then he marched over to Neddy and Barney who had started to shove each other and were both wearing pouts that were so similar to Benedict’s, you had to hide a snicker. He placed an expansive hand on each of their heads, pushing them lightly apart and commanding their attention. “All right, all right Colin monsters. I have decided that I am not going to slay you, but instead, feed you some biscuits to satisfy your hunger. How does that sound?”

Both boys looked up at him and broke out into joyous smiles and cheers. You walked over to corral them all for tea, when Augie piped up over the celebration.

“Yay! And now you must kiss!” He stared up at you and Benedict with eager, sparkling eyes.

“Yes!” Chirped Barney beside him. “Kiss. That’s how the story ends.”

You felt yourself blush as your mind reeled, bewildered that the boys would say this, frightened to look at Benedict beside you, and equally aggravated that he had improvised the kiss into the story in the first place. But you felt the weight of his stare on your cheek and turned. His eyes, usually so piercing and light, had grown dark with something intense. He seemed to be holding his breath right along with you, looking at you for direction. He couldn’t possibly be considering…This couldn’t be happening again…

You stuttered, unable to complete a thought as your heart trilled in your throat. “Mr. Bridgerton, I…”

Benedict finally broke his gaze, releasing you from the spell, and turned to the children with his wry smile returning. “No, boys,” he said assertively. “Kissing is only for the puppets and grown ups who are very much in love.”

Something ran straight through you when he said that and you swore his eyes flicked over to you. You had to move, you had to free yourself from this quagmire. You turned and went to Caroline, lifting her out of her crib as she happily nestled against you.

“My mama and papa kiss all the time.” Augie announced matter-of-factly.

“Mine too.” Neddy groaned then shook his head in disgust as he stuck out his tongue. Barney followed suit, mimicking his distaste. 

You laughed, grateful that the humor of the little ones could rise to break the tension between the stares of the adults.

Benedict patted Neddy on the shoulder. “Well, that is because they are in love as I said. Come on now,” He swung Barney into his arms and clasped the boy across his back as before. “Biscuits await!” 

Then he turned and shot you a knowing smile before mustering all the lads and leading them out of the nursery.

—

You spent the remainder of the day breathless, smiling politely as you guided the children through teatime. Fortunately, their mothers and an assortment of Bridgertons were present too, which helped to distract you from overtly staring at Benedict across the room. It was evident he wasn’t cross with you and seemed to still want your acquaintance. But were you overestimating his level of affection? Had too many stories of dashing princes and fairytale romance burrowed themselves into your mind, inextricably blending fantasy into your reality as if you were a besotted girl? His intentions certainly seemed clear in the theater box and again when the children told you to kiss. Could it be that your wildest imaginings weren’t imagined at all? 

Your unanswered questions mired you in thought. You carried out the motions of herding the children but your mind was always with Benedict. You saw to their dinner, their baths and their nightly farewells to their parents. You could hardly finish their bedtime story, you were so distracted. The swirling sensations in your heart and mind were sure to drive you mad, and were strong enough that they propelled you to Benedict’s door. It was the guest bedroom he treated as a studio and candlelight could be seen within. 

Your desperation lended you an edge of uncharacteristic courage. Your last moment alone together had been interrupted by an audience. If you could be alone again, you wanted to know what would occur. Your fluttering stomach proffered an idea but you fought it down. Most likely Benedict would do nothing more than speak to you, carrying on in that friendly, flirtatious manner as he always had. Then you would have your answer. He was not enamored as you were, it was simply his natural character. If, however, you were wrong, it would be better than any of the fairy stories you had read in all your years as a nursemaid.

Hand shaking, you knocked on the door. He answered it, shirt unbuttoned rather too low for polite company and hair tousled, clearly hard at work.

His eyes lit, as they always did when he saw you. “Miss y/l/n! Is everything alright?’

“Yes, all is well.” Your voice was small, the sound struggling to escape around your pounding heart. “I only wanted to speak with you.”

“What about? Is another bedtime story in order? Do you need a dragon slayed?” He leaned against the doorframe with the grin that had come to visit you in dreams. You could only smile at his cheek, then he waved you over the threshold. “Come in.”

You wanted to take time to admire the canvases propped on easels throughout the room, to ask him what he was working on and where his inspiration came from, what his favorite colors were, how he had honed such skill. You wanted to know everything about him. But your nerves were overcoming you, a heated jittery energy rising through your body from your toes to your shoulders.

“Mr. Bridgerton…” your voice quavered, wondering where on earth to begin.

He closed the door and walked to you. “Please, call me Benedict.” His voice dropped into that low register, smooth and inescapable. His words were an invitation, not simply to use his name. How he could do this, flip a switch and magnetize you toward him with a single glance, a single syllable, was beyond your comprehension but you were utterly powerless against it. 

“That would be most improper.” There was no conviction in your words, just stuttering breath.

He stepped even closer, lips parted so that you could see the candlelight shining off the bottom one. You couldn’t tear your eyes from it. “Do you want to enforce propriety between us?”

He was offering you the choice, the final say in how you wanted to proceed. But your mind had been made up before you even entered the room. Every drop of your blood was humming, pulling you inexorably forward just as it had in the theater, just as it always did whenever he was close enough that you felt the warmth of his breath on your skin. 

“No.”

A smile ghosted across his face, something like relief. The last barrier of uncertainty having fallen away, he took your hands softly into his own. “What do you want? I’ll give you anything.”

Before you could stop yourself, you surged up onto your toes and pressed your lips to his, needing to know their softness, their taste, needing to finally seize what had been tempting you for so long. He staggered slightly, his hands falling to your waist, but his mouth remained still as you pulled back, searching his eyes. For a fleeting moment, you feared you had done something wrong, had somehow misinterpreted his offer. 

Then you saw the glittering joy in his gaze and felt the chuckles rising out of his chest under your palms. He smiled, beaming as a hand rose to trail across your cheek and into your hair. 

“What a surprise,” he breathed, “I want the same thing.” 

Then he enveloped you, lips crashing back against yours as he pulled you flush to his body. A deep and proper kiss, and it was every bit the fairytale you dreamed it would be. 

Fin.

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp @desert-fern @fiction-is-life @kpopstanthot @mysticwitchcraftco @unholyhuntress @defnotashifter

[half-dead-ham]

Ch. 3 Hysteria

Chapter 3 of Dead men's Deals, courtesy of the DPxDC ship week! Day 1? Arranged marriages ofc ;). I thought it was a little ironic that I started this just before this was announced, but here we are!

Here's; [Ao3], [ch. 1 & prompt], [ch. 2]

The rest of Damian's patrol was maddeningly quiet, which of course meant that he had to run around with his siblings incessant prattling along the comm line. It seemed as though his half an hour of silence had caused quite the stir, and Richard was halfway to Gotham thanks to his silence.

  Joy.

  “Robin, you can’t be mad at me for worrying after you went quiet.” Richard huffed into the comm over the wind. “Forty-five minutes is a long time, and things could happen.”

  “I am fine, Nightwing. As I stated previously, an informant approached me about a private case that needed my attention. I did not realize he had a signal jammer on his person until he had left.” Damian snapped back as he reached the cave, pushing down most of his ire at his siblings' insistent mother-henning. He did not like being coddled when he was young, and he certainly did not like being coddled as an adult, it was demeaning to his skills.

  “You’re still getting checked for mental manipulation, Dami,” Timothy called from behind him, peeling his mask off and pushing his hair from his face. “No amount of treats will get you out of it tonight. Better safe than sorry, right?”

  And Damian wanted to argue, he really did. But then he remembered and felt that strange energy now nestled snugly in his chest next to his heart. It was cold, but not overly so. When he was not focusing on it he could almost make himself believe that that whole interaction was a hallucination, a figment of his overly stressed subconscious acting out to help him destress from something he couldn’t control. But then he would think about it again, and that cold something would move, reminding him that this was his reality.

  Something in him whispered about the absurdity of his life, another replied that this wasn’t even the strangest thing he’d experienced.

  “Fine, Drake. I’ll subject myself to your pointless tests, but only after I remove my gear.” Timothy almost looked surprised at how easily Damian agreed to the tests, he didn't know how easily he had swayed to please the being he had met now mere hours ago. How easily he wished to comply with the sense of trust that wasn’t his own. He felt it would be necessary to comply with the routine, no matter how tedious it was.

  They both made their way to the changerooms in silence after that, Timothy most likely deep in thought as to whether Damian’s new agreeableness was something to be celebrated or feared and Damian finally starting to tire after needlessly pushing himself for the first part of his patrol.

  It was reckless, now that the weight of so many uncertainties wasn’t nipping at the back of his mind like some sort of rabid animal. To exert himself in an attempt to outrun what he couldn’t control was pointless, and now he was paying the price for it in lead lined limbs. Nothing he needed to worry his siblings over, of course, that would only make him more suspicious. But he was finding the prospect of his soft, encompassing bed very inviting at this point.

  Damian had already taken his mask and cape off, and shucked one glove into his locker before he froze, thumb hooked under the lip of his remaining left glove.

  The mark.

  It would be visible to everyone once he took his glove off. Then he would need to explain Danny and the contract and the letter from his mother and then he would have to withstand Richards' whining. He could not let anyone see the mark.

  “Damian? You okay?” Timothy looked over, noticing his hesitancy and that he was still mostly in uniform. He did not like to linger in the changerooms and Timothy knew that. Even with his family and the years he’d spent in the manor he felt needlessly exposed being among others in a state of undress. Usually he would be changing as quickly and efficiently as possible to avoid being needlessly exposed for longer than needed be, but now… Damian moved his hand from the glove to his suit instead, intending to keep the glove on until the last possible moment.

  “How many times must I tell you that I am fine for you to accept it, Drake?” He snapped again without the heat, his mind elsewhere. Timothy simply huffed as he pulled on an old button down, then slipped back out into the cave to wait.

  There was no longer a reason for Damian to hesitate. Not that he was hesitating. Pointless hesitation was still a weakness Damian wouldn’t tolerate from himself even now. He slipped out of the rest of his suit and pulled his sweatpants on before focusing back on his still gloved left hand.

  Slowly, he pulled it off, revealing the black snowflake with the stylized D resting just above his third knuckle and the band circling his middle finger. He stared at it, examining the minute fractals the tattoo branched into, eyes trailing the feather light lines that connected the D to the rest of the shape, turning his hand to better inspect the black ring now imprinted onto his digit.

  Danny had said he wished to annul the contract that had forced this mark onto his hand. Although Damian had threatened violence, there was no grand battle. Their interaction was brief but not unpalatable. And Danny…

  Exhaustion made his thoughts swirl through his head, making thoughts connect for a fraction of a second before breaking apart leaving him confused. Slipping his shirt on, he frowned. After all this time, he thought he was able to understand his own emotions better than this, after all this time, after all the talks he had had with his two eldest brothers. Damian had thought he would know how to feel after he had met the Lord of Death, but their interaction just left him lost.

  He hated how little control he had over the situation.

  He walked out of the changeroom toward his brother, hoping a good sleep and the answers from tomorrow night would help his tumultuous feelings.

~~~~~

      “Father,” Damian called after the head of the house as he headed to his office after breakfast. Bruce turned, one eyebrow raised in curiosity as his youngest strode to catch up.

  “What’s up, chum?” He asked as he resumed his cant, keeping pace with his son.

  “I have… Information on the private case we discussed previously,” Damian confessed. His father raised an eyebrow at his words, confused.

  "The letter, father," he pressed, unconsciously clenching his left hand into a fist.

  His eyes widened in realization before the mask of the Bat settled on his father's face, expression hard and calculative. He nodded, then ever so slightly sped up his pace to the office.

  They walked in, and as soon as Bruce shut the door behind them he turned to Damian. “Did Talia send someone? Did you see her? Does it have anything to do with you comm going offline last night?”

  Damian took his place in one of the plush armchairs before replying with a heavy sigh. “Mother has not contacted me since she sent the letter father, I would have informed you otherwise and you know this.”

  Sitting down himself, Batman narrowed his eyes. “But this is related to why your comm went down last night?”

  Glancing to his hand, Damian nodded. Batman followed his gaze, but like Timothy the night previous, did not react to the black mark that now adorned Damian’s hand. It seemed, until proven otherwise at least, that no one but Damian and the Lord of Death could see their binding mark. Damian was both relieved that he didn’t need to explain the mark to his family, and frustrated that this was just one more thing he couldn’t validate were he to try.

  Huffing, Damian lifted his gaze back to his father. “I met my betrothed last night,” he stated flatly.

  Instantly tension gathered in his fathers frame, posed to react. From where Damian sat he could almost see the gears in Batman’s head working on plans and contingencies to keep his son safe from whatever monster that might wish to take him from them.

  He supposed that he wouldn’t be the only one getting shocked by his encounter.

  “Were you hurt?” Batman asked, his voice dropping to the tone he uses when asking for a mission report.

  “He did not hurt me,” he replied just as flatly as before. It was true, Danny had not harmed him in any lasting physical way. The jury is still out on any other way until tonight.

  Batman recognized all the things he didn’t say with his answer, narrowing his gaze as he studied his son. There were no doubt things he would be wanting to ask by what they meant, about how he may have harmed him in those forty-five minutes. Knowing they would get nowhere if they stayed on this topic, Damian pushed ahead, “He asked to meet again tonight so that he may explain more about our… arrangement.”

  “No,” Batman immediately states, much to Damian’s annoyance. “You aren’t going to meet a dangerous being we know nothing about.”

  “But father, he has answers,” Damian retorts emphatically. “Answers about this whole mess that Mother has dropped on us.”

  “Damian,” Batman glared at Damian, willing him to back down on this. Unfortunately, Damian has learned from his siblings to take that glare as a challenge. Neither backed down for what seemed like hours, Damian knew that if he were to look away it would be taken as a sign of weakness.

  Finally, Batman leaned back in his chair, tension slowly leaking out of his frame until only Bruce was left, sighing in only a way a tired father could. “You know I can’t let you do this alone, right?”

  Damian gave a sharp nod, “I know what risks could come with this. That is why I came to you, father, as no one else as of yet knows of my situation.”

  Bruce nodded, his expression shifting to something less tired and more thoughtful. His stance was firm about letting the rest of the family know about the contract, they were all gossip mongers and as soon as one of them knew the news would spread like wildfire. He would not be able to stop the comments from his siblings, and Richard’s planner must stay hidden at all costs now that he was staying in the manor for the near future. Cassandra might be an exception to that statement, she knew how to keep things hidden when they were important, but the rest he wouldn’t trust as far as he could throw them.

  His father would hopefully take their family's nature into account in his planning.

  “Well then, I suppose I’ll have Dick take over my patrol route for tonight,” Bruce decided with a nod. He moved to get up, but Damian stopped him.

  “Father, what do you mean?” He asked, “Why would you require Richard to take your route?”

  Bruce chuckled as he strode to the door, “Well, chum, I’d need to have him take over if I’m joining you.” And then he left, much to his son's bafflement.

~~~~~

      Flying in big cities was always something Danny could use to relax. Being so high up with all the glittering lights below him gave him a sense of peace he couldn’t get in his regular day to day life. He hadn’t really done it since coming here, what with his marriage manhunt, but now that Danny found the guy, he could finally appreciate the city for the beauty it had.

  Ignoring all the sounds of gunshots and the stench, the place really was a gothic marvel. All gray stone buildings and gargoyles; Sam would love it here.

  Of course, he did have a destination for his flight. Tonight he needed to pick his partner in magic matrimony up so that they could have a proper conversation back at his apartment. Robin… Danny wasn’t going to lie, he had a crush on the vigilante, but right now voiding the contract was more important than trying to get to know the guy.

  The sun had set a few hours ago by now, prime time for the criminals to skitter out of their hiding places and the vigilantes to start herding them like cats playing with their prey. Perfect hours to go and get his birdy.

  Danny followed the pull at his core as he flew invisibly through the city, trying to remember what he had looked up throughout the day. The city’s vigilantes were something of a band of cryptids, as Danny found out. Seen when needed, but mysterious enough that no one could land any solid information about them. Even the knowledge people had on them was speculative at best, and any concrete evidence was locked behind a firewall so strong it would make Technus and Tucker both drool.

  He couldn’t find much on Robin, other than the odd theory thread talking about how many different kids might have taken up the mantle before the most recent one. Saying that it would've had to have been different kids because they all had different fighting styles, there were periods of time in between sightings sometimes where people think the kids have switched, and that their heights and ages had stayed relatively the same until the latest one.

  The latest one has apparently been around the longest, but out of the supposed others he’s the least well liked. Danny figured that was probably due to the whole ‘assassin family’ thing so he wasn’t about to argue. His own amazing media coverage gave him a better understanding of how people liked to portray people who did things differently. From what he noticed last night the guy was rough, sure, but he did his job and did it well, so what if the criminals got a few extra scrapes?

  This Robin has been around for a while now, and has actually aged. He was probably around the same age as Danny… hopefully. Ancients, he really hoped he wasn’t secretly a lot older or younger than him, that would be really awkward.

  Danny had to shake himself of his thoughts as the pull on his core grew stronger, telling him he was near his… mate? Ancients no, that was gross. His fiancé? That's closer, but it's not like he and Robin wanted this. Partner in a magically binding contract? Partner might be simplest in this case.

  He was coming up to the roof his partner was standing on, talking with someone over the comm in his ear.

  Hm…

  Danny really shouldn’t try to piss the guy off more than he probably already has, but what was a ghost king if he didn’t pull a prank every now and again? Really, Robin was in the perfect position for a harmless prank, where he knew what Danny was but wasn’t desensitized to his antics.

  Mind made up, Danny descended to the rooftop below with an unseen cheshire grin.

~~~~~

      Damian was in the middle of explaining what had happened on his last patrol in length to Batman when his comm gave out in a hiss of static. He hastily yanked it from his ear, wondering irately how he hadn’t noticed the disruption the first time he had met the Lord of Death. Scanning the rooftop around him, he narrowed his gaze as he realized there was no one else here.

  Except there was.

  The cold thing in the center of his chest was reacting to something, writhing in its space and giving off more feelings that weren’t his. They were weak, giving him ample ability to resist succumbing to them, but that it was giving off anything at all meant one thing; the Lord of Death was close.

  A breath of frost across the back of his neck had him spinning, birdarang in hand. There was no one behind him. A whisper of a chuckle form his left and he was repositioning, searching the shadows for any presence. Nothing. He kept his stance for a few moments longer, seeing nothing but feeling a chill crawl up his spine.

  “Boo.”

  Damian spun, throwing the birdarang in the direction of the voice as he rolled to avoid whatever possible attack might happen in that second. The birdarang clanged against an air conditioning unit and stuck, its target missed completely.

  Or so he thought, until a laugh echoed out from a few feet in front of him.

  The Lord of Death melted into view, clutching his stomach as he curled in on himself in laughter.

  “Oh- oh my Ancients!” He wheezed through gasps. “You should’ve seen your face. Oh man,” his laughter started dying out as he uncurled, wiping a fake tear from his waterline with a finger. “I really needed that. How many people in this city can say they’ve surprised one of the Bats?”

  “That was unnecessary,” Damian sneered at the being across from him as he reluctantly dropped his stance.

  “It really wasn’t,” Danny countered, walking over to pick the discarded birdarang out of the aluminum siding of the conditioning unit. “I find it's best to have a bit of humor before you start talking about heavy topics.”

  Damian crossed his arms as Danny turned back to him. “There is nothing humorous about someone sneaking up on me only to pull such a childish prank.”

  The Lord of Death just shrugged, “Was funny for me. Anyway,” he made his way back across the roof to stand in front of Damian, his expression melting into something more muted as he started playing with the blade. “You ready to get a better picture of just how badly our ancestors screwed us over?”

  Damian canted his hips, silently asking himself if he was really going to ask this instead of just allowing his father to tail them. They had made a plan; Damian would go with the Lord while Batman followed behind, and should something happen to Damian he would whistle to alert his father who would then race to aid him.

  Only, with a better view of Danny’s disappearance and subsequent reappearance, he had to wonder how well their plan would work. Were Danny to disappear with him, there would be little chance for his father to find them, since the signal jammer that killed his comm had also killed his tracker upon review. Would he either ask an embarrassing question, or risk needless danger? The answer was easy.

  “I have a condition for going with you,” Damian asserted, to the Lord’s curiosity.

  “Oh?”

  “I wish to bring someone along with us, so I am not being led into a trap alone.” The offer was simple, yet Damian still prepared himself in case the being before him did not like what was given.

  The Lord of Death nodded thoughtfully, to Damian’s utter confusion. “Yeah, that’s totally valid reasoning.” Danny conceded, “I don’t mind if you bring someone. It's the person on the other roof, right?”

  What?

  Danny turned to face the adjacent building on which Batman had chosen to keep watch of their interaction, though he was out of sight. How was he able to tell where Father had hidden himself?

  Damian resisted a sigh as he watched the other wave where he approximated his father was, hidden in the shadow of the taller office building on the other side. There were no differences in the shadows from where he stood, and Danny wasn’t in any better position to see. It must be another ability of his, he supposed, as Danny turned back to him.

  “You wanna call them over then?” Danny asked him innocently, as though he hadn’t just given Damian permission for backup to face a potentially extremely dangerous situation. This man was truly either brave or foolish.

  Still, with a curt nod Damian whistled thrice, once long and two short; their signal for regrouping. Even with Father not expecting the change in plans it took no time for him to appear out of the shadows and join them on the roof. Damian watched as Danny tracked his father's path, never failing or backtracking to re-catch sight of the Dark Knight amongst the pitch black.

  “Robin,” Batman intoned as he came upon them, keeping his gaze on target as he asked his not-question. Damian just cocked his head to the side in a silent ‘well?’ to their mysterious informant, breaking him out of the near awed stare he dawned upon seeing his father in the light.

  Danny cleared his throat before giving a smile. “Well, since your wish has been fulfilled you think we could get going now?” He crooked his thumb over his shoulder, “We’re burning moonlight afterall…”

  Damian rolled his eyes behind his mask but nodded, preparing himself for the journey by shifting his feet, getting ready to run. Only, as soon as he got confrontation the Lord of Death’s smile grew impossibly wide and lunged, grabbing onto both vigilantes with deceptively strong hands and pulling them with him into a swirling green tear. Neither could free themselves in time, and so they fell in after the Lord of Death.

tagged peeps: @mnemovoid

[hoshologies]

11:32 pm, bang c.

genres &&. warnings — angst, hurt/no comfort &&. crying, heartbreak, mutual pining but forbidden love, are you asking too much of chan?

word count — 1.3k

note — inspired specifically by that one line in seasons by wave to earth "i can't be your life because i'm afraid i'll ruin your life."

it feels like your bones rattle with every step you take, rushing down this stairwell faster than you ever have before. the last time you descended this particular staircase, it had been with a smile on your face and a fluttering in your heart, hope for a future that you thought was about to be within reach. you’d never been more wrong in your life.

“c’mon, can you just stop and come back upstairs? please.” chan’s voice echoes above you, his footsteps drawing closer and pushing you faster down the stairs.

your attitude towards that man has taken a complete one-eighty over the last ten minutes, drastically different than it had been when you’d shown up for what you’d begun calling your weekly date night: takeout and movies in his bed. stupid for so many things, so many reasons. you have to get out of here; there’s no fire in the building, but your chest burns like you’re breathing in hot smoke.

it’s a relief when your feet finally hit the bottom floor and you step out into the cool night air of seoul. the breath you heave trembles with tears, but it’s still so welcome, chilling the ache in your lungs. glad to be out of that damned suffocating building, you take two steps in the direction of the subway when the boy you can’t get away from fast enough bursts out onto the sidewalk behind you.

“wait!” chan is breathless, you can hear it in his voice; you don’t need to turn around to know that his chest is heaving, one of his hands resting over his belly button because it’s a scene you’ve been witnessed to many a time after he’s chased you around his apartment, laughing rather than crying. “can we please talk about this?”

any sadness you felt three seconds ago is scorched away, a fiery anger taking its place. talk? he wants to talk about this? he was doing plenty of that five minutes ago, shooting you down like it was nothing. no, now it’s your turn to talk.

you whip around on your heels, any semblance of calm dissipating. “talk? okay, sure. i’ll talk. fuck you, chris.” as far as you’re concerned, he’s lost all privileges to the sweet names you’ve been calling him for months. “you don’t wanna tell anybody about us? that’s fine. i get it. you don’t wanna go on dates in public? okay. i understand how important your image is to your job. i don’t complain, i’ve never complained. i come here at late hours to see you, even when i’m practically dead on my feet or have to be up early the next morning because seeing you is always the best part of my day.”

“i know–”

you shake your head, letting out a sarcastic huff of amusement. “i’m not done. so we have these nights, right? and we do all of these things together and you treat me so well. things are great and i feel comfortable and… fuck, how is someone not supposed to fall in love with you, huh? after all of the stuff we’ve done, how was i supposed to not catch feelings?”

you’re not done with your diatribe, but you need a second to catch your breath a second time. chan stands there, arms limp at his sides as he stares at you. his eyes are wide and sad and there is sadness and regret written all over his face, but no amount of puppy dog eyes is going to fix this situation the way they’ve fixed far more minor situations.

“i was nervous the whole fucking day, chris. i wanted tonight to be the night that i told you how i felt and after all the time we’ve spent together, the number of mornings i’ve woken up in your bed, i really thought you’d reciprocate–”

“i do!” he exclaims, completely exasperated; the frustration in his voice immediately sours the last few shreds of fond feelings. “i do feel the same. i told you that inside!”

you throw your hands into the air in irritation before you bring them back down to cover your face and turn on your heels away from the boy in front of you. this whole situation is fucking ridiculous and you find yourself wishing that you’d never gotten involved with him in the first place, something bitter and so far from the truth; meeting chan was the best thing that’s ever happened and you’ve never regretted a single thing you’ve done with him. but this is all too much.

“yeah, but you immediately followed it up with ‘but i can’t be with you,’” you reply, tears pooling at your waterline against your wishes. the last thing you want to do is cry in front of him… again.

you hear him take a step forward, his sneakers scuffing against the concrete. “because i can’t be with you the way you want me to be. i can’t give you what you need.”

one tear falls, a second follows, and then they just won’t stop. that dam has finally broken. you turn to face him again; you’ve cried in front of him once tonight, so it doesn’t really matter anymore. he’s seen you at your absolute worst anyways.

“who the fuck are you to decide that?” you question, voice trembling. your eyes are no doubt pleading. you’ve never begged him for anything ever, but you’re coming dangerously close to that territory now. “i’ve been content so far, haven’t i?”

“but that can always change,” he reasons, closing the gap between you entirely. you want him close, but at the same time, you want to push him away. he’s the last person you want to see right now yet also the only person you want to tell about all of this because he’s been everything to you; nobody understands you the way he does, knows you as intimately as him.

“oh my god. it’s been months, chan. if i wasn’t in this for the long run, i would have left already. i would have told you. the fact that i’m still standing here trying to reason it out with you should be proof enough that i don’t fucking care about what you think you can and can’t do for me because we’ve worked so many other things out before. why isn’t that enough?”

he goes silent and your personal corner of seoul goes silent with him. there’s nobody else out, but it feels like the entire world is watching this fold out, some ridiculous forbidden love that never even stood a chance because why would it have? you’re not part of his world, you never have been. you were stupid for thinking that somehow, he’d let you come along for the ride.

when he doesn’t answer, you laugh mirthlessly, more a scoff than anything. you take a step backwards and he goes to follow, but you shake your head.

“there. we did it. we talked. and you still don’t want to try and figure this out, even though you want this just as much as i do. so i think we’re done here.”

you turn on your heels again, ready to take the thirty minute walk to your apartment because you can’t bear to be around anyone else right now. chan calls for you to wait again, but you shake your head, pushing back tears.

“i’m done waiting, chris. i’ve been doing it for weeks, so now it’s your turn. figure out just how much you’ll fight for this if you want me as much as you say you do.”

leaving chan has always been a hard thing to do, but never has hard as this. you want to turn around and hug him tight, but you force yourself forward down the sidewalk. he has always been a fighter, so you want to believe he’ll fight for you, to have you. he’s never let you down before.

© hoshologies 2023. do not translate, copy, or repost my work.

[trans-peridot]

FFxivWrite Day 5: Stamp

Took me a minute to think of something fitting this prompt, but here we go: Tayfun's version of the opening cutscene (Gridania flavor)! Some of Bremondt's lines are verbatim from the original dialogue but I paraphrased or rewrote a good amount of it to fit better with Tayfun's whole deal. Do spoilers for the first ten minutes of the game count as spoilers? Spoiler alert for that, I guess.

“Oi! Y’all right, lass?” Tayfun opened her eyes and saw a grizzled man sitting across from her on the wagon. “You were moanin' in your sleep an' sweatin' buckets besides. Particularly prone to aether sickness, are we?”

“Ugh, sorry... Dreamt about the Calamity again, I think. And then some dream where a man in black gestured threateningly at me? Whatever.”

Tayfun slapped her cheeks a couple times to shake off the remaining sleep. She was on the same wagon she’d been riding for days from Ul’dah. She’d taken one of her signature cat naps and while she was asleep the scenery had transitioned to the forest she’d always known growing up. Welcome back to the Black Shroud, things haven’t changed back to normal while you were gone. Aside from the bearded hyur making conversation with her, a pair of white-haired elezen twins kept to themselves on the far end of the carriage. Oh, and also a couple of those obscene puffball creatures rifled through the man’s belongings and, presumably, said something to her. Tayfun had learned long ago that nothing they said was ever worth listening to, so she turned her focus back to the man.

“Gridania's still a fair way off, in case you were wonderin'. Seein' as you're awake, how's about you keep me company till we get there? Them young'uns don't much care for conversation, see.” He offered her a swig from his bottle and was dismayed to notice it empty. One of the fluffy bastards blew a raspberry as it flew off with its friends, stomach filled with wine. “Bremondt's the name, an' peddlin's me trade. An’ you, you a green new adventurer? Goin' wherever the wind blows, seekin' fortune an' glory? Now that is a livin’! So long as you can avoid dyin' I mean. What’s a young lady like you crackin’ into adventurin’ for?”

“It’s... to pass the time, I suppose? Somebody very dear to me is... she’s not free to be in my life at the moment, and so I decided to do this until she is. The time will pass either way, yeah?” Tayfun thought a little longer. That wasn’t all of it, and she knew that full well. “I’m doing this to become an adventurer of legend. To stamp my name on the history of Eorzea and become somebody whose voice the rich and powerful must listen to.”

“Glory, eh? Just listen, there're more important things than glory. Such as breathin'. Ain't no voice for the dead, an' that's a fact.”

“Good point, Bremondt. I’ll take that under advisement.”

Then some Ixal birdmen attacked the wagon, some Wood Wailers attacked the Ixal, losses were suffered on both sides, and Tayfun stayed in her seat too weak to sway it one way or the other. Her first stop would definitely need to be the Lancers’ Guild, maybe they could teach her how to wield her spear worth a damn.

They spent some time in silence after witnessing the ambush. What could there be to say? A few hours later the gate was finally in sight. Bremondt piped up again, “So, is this your first trip to Gridania?”

“I guess so, yeah. I grew up in the Shroud my whole life until moving to Ul’dah after the Calamity. But I never set foot in the city proper, my mother didn’t want me to. Never told me why, she just had some major issues with the rulers of the place.”

“Well it’s not all loons preaching the glories of the Elementals here, if that was her grievance. There’s plenty of fine folk. They’ll grow on you, lass.” The wagon finally pulled to a stop. “An' here's where we part ways, lass. Time to make a killin’ in the marketplace. I never did catch your name, but I’ll tell you what.” Bremondt handed Tayfun a ring from his bag of wares. “Become that hero of legend, stamp your name on history and all that, and one day I’ll get to brag about havin’ met you. Then we’ll be square!”