#maybe i'll end up doing something with that

[catcrumb]

after 5 years of running this blog, i've made the decision to open up a patreon!

my life circumstances are changing, and patreon will greatly help me make ends meet and pay rent. nothing about this blog will be changing - i'll still be posting a cat doodle every day, same as i always have.

i have a $3/month tier and a $6/month tier - both work as tip jars, with the latter being if you feel especially generous and can afford it.

right now i have transparent and/or higher-resolution PNGs of certain catcrumbs that i've used for redbubble up for members, if anyone wants to make emojis or such. i'll also be taking requests for drawings to be transparentized and/or put on redbubble. in the future i may start offering additional rewards - bonus art, requests, maybe physical stuff - but my life needs to settle down a bit before i do anything like that.

your money is of course yours to do with as you see fit (and there are many many good causes out there that i urge you to donate to), but i hope that if my little drawings have given you joy over the years and you have the room in your budget, you'll consider supporting me!

i also have a kofi and redbubble if you'd rather support me that way!

no matter what - i genuinely appreciate all the kindness i have been given. i try very hard to keep catcrumb a self-driven art exercise - just one cat a day, doesnt have to be perfect or even good, just has to be a cat - but i couldn't have kept up the hobby without so many people's joy. it's been a genuinely incredible experience for my silly little scribbles to have positively touched people's lives - in-jokes between friends and partners, a gentle reminder, tattoos and baby clothes, something to look forward to... it's really been a flood of human kindness.

thank you all so much for all the joy - here's to more! :~D

[thatssomegoodsoup]

Hi! Could you do The Doctor x Reader where the Doctor turned the reader into a humanoid animatronic(?) toy when he was still Sawyer? Maybe they rejected him when they were human, found out about the experiments etc. I'll leave it up to you~

imagining so much angst for this one! (I might actually write a fic for once)

HARLEY SAWYER X READER FANFIC

CONTENT WARNING: death

Youu were first assigned to work with Harley Sawyer (to say this man was annoyed would be an understatement. He didn't want to work with anyone else). Eventually Sawyer warmed up to you, liking how well you contributed to his work. And soon, he caught himself catching feelings for you, and you caught feelings for him. You two would subtly flirt all the time during work.

And soon, due to your intellect, you climbed the ranks, from intern to researcher to junior researcher to senior researcher to second in command beside Sawyer.

And the more your rank grew, you more you learned about the experiments they were doing. The Bigger Bodies Initiative. And the more disgusted you became. They were using CHILDREN? The children they had said they would find loving homes for. They were using children to make monsters. And Harley Sawyer, your love, was at the front of it all.

To say the reader broke down would be an understatement. You had loved a monster all this time. You felt disgusted with yourself. With your job. With your feelings, your heart, everything. But, you still loved this man. So, you kept it down. But in the back of your mind, there was a voice saying you shouldn't love this man.

This voice made you become resentful. When he finally asked you out, you let everything out. You insulted him, called him a monster, and said you'd never date someone like him. This made him very angry. How DARE you reject him. You were HIS! HIS AND NOBODY ELSE'S! And you and Harley grew apart. Argument after argument. To be honest, he both hated and liked your new "feisty personality". Others saw you as a danger for how outspoken against the experiments you had become. Whispered threats were thrown around in the background. But Sawyer insisted that your knowledge was important. And it brought you some fear that Sawyer was the only reason you weren't ending up as food for an experiment or dead at the hands of a researcher or task force. I mean, he couldn't let the only one he loved die now, could he? He had to come up with another plan, before the others took matters into their own hands.

Meanwhile, you had your own plan. To save the orphans. To out Playtime Co as the monsters they truly were. But you were too late. As you went to leave the lab, to quit your job, to enact the first phase of your plan, Sawyer grabbed you and held you back, taunting you with "squirm all you want germ" and "you would be lucky to be with SOMEONE like me". He knocked you out, and made you into one of his experiments.

He made you into an animatronic version of yourself. To capture your beauty for all eternity. When you awoke, all you could feel was anger, and, in the back of your mind, heartbreak.

After the Day of Joy, you had made it your mission to find Harley and eliminate him. And you killed or hurt anyone else who stood in between you and him. You had become what you had sworn to destroy. A monster, fueled by anger, rage, and hatred.

Then came the day you finally made your way to him.

Needless to say.... you didn't stand a chance.

And as you laid dying in his robotic arms, you didn't feel....anger. You didn't feel the disgust at the actions of what he had done. You felt....regret. Guilt. A pang in your heart that you had only felt when you had started working at Playtime Co. alongside Dr.Sawyer.

And for the first time in a long time, you looked at Sawyer with something more than disgust and anger. You stared at him with love. As the light faded from your eyes, you reached for his cheek...well, the side of his TV, and smiled, your animatronic eyes betraying your current state; your eyes depicted peace and love. You watched as his eye slowly turned fearful. He gripped your animatronic form tighter, holding onto something so fragile. You fell limp, taking your final breath in his arms. And he held tighter.

The look of horror in his eye when you reacted with love instead of rage and fear for the first time in many years could not be described. He felt...sadness. Regret. Grief. For the first time in his life.

He sat there in shock for the longest time.

And then....willpower, longing, a strong desire, overtook his mind.

No. NO. He has to find a way to bring you. He has to bring you back. He HAS TO. He will bring you back. He WILL bring you back. He WILL find a way.

"I will bring you back."

"My dear love."

"I don't care what it will cost me."

"This isn't how I'll let it end...."

I hope this was what you were expecting! I don't really write fics, I normally write....oneshots? Headcanons? But I saw the prompt and had to go for it! I'm honestly really proud of how this turned out.

credit for divider: @nicodefresas

[murmiss]

A sketch about Price's neglected daughter!y/n, and the kidnapper! Konig.

The living room was flooded with soft light. There were three people sitting on the sofas covered with burgundy plaids. Price was the first to take the most comfortable seat, sitting in his masterly manner. Next to him sat his faithful friend and comrade, Joshua, and the third person sat on a separate small sofa, wrapped in a plaid blanket-it was Megan, Price's oldest daughter. On the terry mat in front of them sat a girl of about five, the youngest daughter, who was playing concentratedly with a doll. She didn't seem to hear or react to anyone else

The girl, sitting in a separate seat, answered Joshua's questions with the same pride: "Yes, when I grow up I'll be a doctor, a surgeon! Or a-- A lawyer!"

Her father's soft laughter reached the children's ears, and the youngest daughter raised her head as well. Unconsciously, she smiled hearing her father's laughter. Joshua smiled as well, carelessly leaving his arm on the back of the couch and looking in front of him, directly at the youngest. He grimaced.

"What do the investigators say? "Mr. Brix caught up with his companion in one of the corridors of the police station. Price was pale, his hair was dirty and greasy, and there were dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. John's eyes were cloudy and he was clearly out of it. Not immediately reacting, Price mumbled something inaudible. Joshua stopped and tugged on his friend's shoulder to stop him. Josh's words sounded like warm encouragement, and his voice was confident: "We'll find her, buddy." Price only nodded in response.

But time only goes by. A day goes by, two days, a week, a month...Almost half a year your sister, Megan Price goes missing. Then the world turns upside down, or maybe-- And nothing's changed? You honestly don't know.

The days are monotonous and empty and the future is clouded with hopelessness. "Who am I?" is the question that keeps popping into your head for hours on end. "Who am I?" a person. "What am I for?" To live. "Who needs me?" I don't know.

It's like a dark abyss, a dragging slime or quicksand that slowly but surely drags you down. You don't feel anything, and you don't know if you've ever felt anything.

Where's mom? Where's your sister?

Nothing again. No information, no word or picture from your father, and only childish resentment.

Kindergarten. Parents pick up their children, hurriedly put on their shoes, and adjust their clothes before leaving. It's evening, but the father is still gone. Anxiously you look out the window, wishing you could see a native silhouette, but nothing but an old crow pecking at the garbage near the tank.

Lonely. Like always.

John forgot to pick you up, or more accurately, he was just with Maggie at her school's Young Poets performance. Omit that the performance ended early, and Price was just taking his daughter and her friends to a coffee shop to celebrate.

It's getting dark, and, the tutor calls Price, who arrives almost immediately. At first, he's embarrassed: gosh, he forgot about his kid! But then he seems to Forget Again, listening with fatherly warmth to Megan's newly composed poems. Sitting in the kitchen, with everyone else, you feel like you're in a family circle, with your own people, not noticing that the eyes are never on you. You babble happily, distracting your sister, "And me! Me too. ". But before you can finish, John says with a smile, "Good for you." You giggle happily in response.

But he didn't hear you.

As you get older, you notice an unfair difference: for some reason, Megan has always been treated a little more reverently. Why was that? The answer is the same. You don't know.

"Do you want a strawberry ice cream?" a gruff, wheezing voice pulls you out of your thoughts. You look up and see Konig standing in front of you, immediately regaining your senses.

"Yes"-you answer briefly, and seemed to fall back into your thoughts, remembering Megan.

"She's fine," Konig brings you to your senses again. He smiles like a serpent, and there is no mask on his face. His face, covered in battle scars is open for all to see, but he doesn't care.

You nod.

Konig was an acquaintance, a friend of Price's, an old-school man with a strong temper and oddities, you thought. A handsome face with strong features, but covered with scars.

When Megan disappeared, Price became completely estranged from you. Desperate, he left the service six months after she went missing, couldn't take it anymore. He was like a robot, perpetually pale and embittered, almost never speaking to you. You often feel the emptiness, wondering involuntarily: what if this is him? When once again your father walks by with glazed eyes, you call out to him, "Father?"

There is no answer.

After about a year, he almost comes around, maybe talks to you more than a couple times a week or, on rare occasions, a day. And then... He just... Notices you?

Returning after school, Price greets you with the table set. He smiles, genuinely talking to you, discussing his day. Everything seems so nice. You eat an entire plate, not immediately noticing the catch. And even noticing it not that day, but towards the end of the week, when your father happily informs you that he has enrolled you in the poets' circle.

Why poets? Oh, yeah. Megan.

He's trying to recreate Megan in you, ignoring the fact that you're a human being too. With your own opinions, desires, morals and dreams. You didn't want to go to medical school just because when Megan wanted you to, you didn't want to go to dances and poetry clubs and perform on stages like she did.

You just want to be yourself.

Megan's gonna come back like thunder in the middle of the day. Just-- Coming home after a damn 1.5 years with no explanation. She smiles adorably as her father kneels like a slug, hugging her as tightly as if she might run away. He sobs, stroking her hands gently. Not that you like being a substitute, but... The slightest bit of attention attracted.

Things get worse, and Price is like a man possessed. He drives Megan every day to the university you're already attending together because John wanted you to follow in your big sister's footsteps. Now he really forgets. He just doesn't see, even worse than when Megan disappeared. In Price's eyes, it's just the image of his oldest daughter, his pride, that's all.

"must it really be lonely?"-The voice rumbles again. You look up. You see Konig again. He's wearing a medical mask. Is he afraid of the coronavirus?

"What?" you ask after a couple seconds.

"Get in the car, I'll give you a ride home." He nods nonchalantly at a maroon car. Definitely not his, but maybe a new purchase? Or not his? Oh, but you don't care, you just hop in his car, not wanting to wait for your dad or the bus. Either way, Price doesn't care when or who you're with.

Which becomes his mistake.

"Where are we going?" you mutter as the car starts to shake over bumps and the woods thicken.

"to your new and loving home, princess."

Konig's plan was perfect from start to finish, until a damn girl got in his way: Megan got caught at the worst possible moment, completely ruining all his blunders.

Then he kidnapped her, finding no other way out of this shitty situation, and locked her in his cozy basement, which was carefully built under his house, enlarged and arranged for you. All to make his Liebe Maus, you,feel herself cozy.

Megan wasn't you, she was noisy, annoying, and that's when Konig changed his plan, day in and day out setting Megan up the way he needed her to be, and when he did, he let Megan go, determined to never, ever expose him. That day she had purposely distracted Price by calling him to a newly opened café so that Price would forget to pick up his second daughter, giving Konig every opportunity.Megan acted to Konig's advantage, and if necessary, she would help confuse everyone so that his sun would never be found.

(Just a random sketch from the notes, possible errors, quick description. at the end of the text, the main character is an adult.)

[from-the-owls-nest]

Well... It's your life. and your personality. so nobody gets to tell you or to decide how they want you to be. They can share how they see you, how they've experienced you, and you get to decide if that still fits, or maybe later again, or if that's a Past You thing, or if you just don't know yet. Transformations and Changes and not knowing are human. And people who love you will love you however you are and want you to be happy over keeping any image they built up of you intact and forcing you into it. *cough* my parents

Also: who someone is has so many different parts. things they like, things they're good at, things they do a lot, things they want to do, traits, memories. There's not one thing that defines all of you. And if something changes or goes missing - sometimes things are just behind a cloud, or like hibernating, and come back when there's space for them, like that or in a different form.

And the other thing... Well. Uh. I don't know what future you will think. I don't know what future me will think. And if I don't know - I try to keep the options open until I maybe will know.

I sorta... this will sound silly. I have an agreement with myself that I'll try to make the best choice with the information I have in a moment, so I dont get to be mad at myself later because I was trying my best. And in retrospect that I try to not make choices future me has to clean up or impacts them badly, especially permanently. Like - it's unfair to future me to give up if good things can still happen, if there's options left to try, and a path to continue on and see if it can get better. I think it'd be more unfair to potential future me and the experiences future me could make if things go well, to destroy them with me ahead of time, before I've tried everything to change and better things, than it is to keep going through the rough times and to keep them around until then or until the criteria have changed.

We'll often also hear to think of others and what you'd do to them and to keep living for others, and - that can be a good reason, but it shouldn't be that guilt trip thing, or make it less of your choice. In the end you gotta decide what feels right to you and what you want. Nobody should make you do something you genuinely fully don't want. Just... remember that you aren't alone, and that there's people who love you and would support you in figuring things out and finding out who you wanna be and what you want life to be like, okay?

(OOC: anyone reading - even if you genuinely feel like theres no hope left, please reach out to a safe person and see if things change with a bit of distance or new options can appear - if it could have been a passing cloud or a storm that will end in time, or something that can be fixed by time or help. uh. before you make choices that cant be taken back and may lead to a lot of suffering. Thanks. And Tumblr please dont get mad at me.)

Love love love characters that present themselves as emotionally open social butterflies but the more you see of them the more obvious it is that they’re the most closed off fuckers in the story. Sure, they want to help you with your personal problems and messy emotions, but if you turn that shit back on them, they’ll shut down or deflect every time. Why are you sticking your nose in their business anyway? It’s not like it matters. They’re not a person, they’re just a role being played. They’re the guy who fixes things and saves people. Please ignore the man behind the mask, he’s fine. Everything’s fine.

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 6!

and what a week it's been... idk about you all, but i'm very much looking forward to all the 8b spec fic after seeing That One Leak...

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

a graveyard in blue | moonlightmornings/@moonlight-mornings | 12.9k | GA

After a call goes south because of limited resources and an equipment malfunction, Eddie's brave move to rescue a young girl takes a nasty turn. i love how this captures the energy and vibe of a rescue!! genuinely feels straight out of an episode <3

and i'd do it over and over again | playinginthunderstorms/@playinginthunderstorms | 4.4k | E

Buck and Eddie hook up at the end of "Confessions". oh when i tell you i savoured this one... such a wonderful fic that captures buddie's first time so so perfectly!! i love how their dynamic is written here <3

everything in between | simplyylupin | 2.1k | T

They’re quiet for a moment, mulling over the unsaid, and then Buck’s bringing his phone closer to his face, eyes squinting. “Are you naked?” the absolute codependency of these two <3 so good!!

hot ghost problems | ebjameston/@ebjameston | 40.9k | T

The ghost would prefer to go by Buck, if Eddie wouldn’t mind. this was a reread! i was reminded of the magic system here and revisited it - can confirm that magic and ghosts and all that are so very good here, and i love the diaz siblings!!

i'll tell them put me back in it (and i would do it again) | paleredheadinascifi | 4.8k| T

Eddie doesn't know how to make his listening history private. Buck doesn't know what to do with the words in front of his eyes. Chris cannot believe he has to deal with either of them. the sheer brilliance of this concept... such a lovely look at the buckley-diaz dynamics! i was smiling the whole way through <3

it's golden, like daylight | rarakiplin/@hoediaz | 8.7k | T

“Shut up,” fingers dig into his ribs, “I mean, would you want to? Be married again?” such wonderful firefam dynamics!! i read this last week, i think, and already reread it this past week as well. a new favourite for sure <3

lonely little love dog | littleghost/@ghostlandtoo | 24k | M

When the 118 is closed for reconstruction after an earthquake, Buck is a floater for different stations around the city. He tries not to let it get to him. Much. this is such a fascinating look at buck's character!! and i LOVED the mara scene <3

parabola | semperama/@semperama | 4.6k | T

“Hey, uh. By the way.” Buck’s been thinking about this, and he has to say it now, or it’ll explode out of him at a much worse time, in a much worse way. “Make sure you don’t forget to change your will again.” truly no fic captures the angst with a happy ending tag like this. also this fic is how i learned that there's a special ao3 tag for eddie's will, which sounds about right. anyway, point is, this is wonderful!!

the last shred of truth in the lost myth of true love | lemonzestywrites/@lemonzestywrites | 25.7k | E

After the events of 6x13, Buck is worried he's lost his charm in bed. Eddie eagerly offers his services to prove otherwise. a reread of one of my favourite fics <3 there's something about the intersection of smut and feelings realisation and introspection in this fic that just hits so very hard, it's lovely <3

the whale fall principle | fastcardotmp3/@fastcardotmp3 | 95.5k | M

Daniel Buckley lives, but he’s still deciding what that means. Maddie is having a baby, but it isn’t her husband’s. And Evan knows his purpose. Until he doesn’t anymore. okay so definitely heed the creator chose not to use archive warnings tag here (there are specific warnings in the chapter notes) but holy shit, this fic. genuinely the best buckley sibling dynamics i have read, like, maybe ever. such a wonderful eddie and chimney and everyone, and such gorgeous writing!! if this one sounds up your alley, you're in for a treat <3

to ebb and flow | akapeterman/@akapeterman | 5.1k | GA

buck is sick, eddie is worried, and christopher is an angel. they'll be okay. i've really been vibing with sickfics lately, can you tell? this is another lovely lovely fic, such great hurt/comfort/domestic fluff!!

wait for me to come home | written_promises | 1.9k | GA

Eddie comes back home to LA from Texas to find Buck waiting for him… in his bed. Because he’s been living in Eddie’s home. and eddie's bed is exactly where buck should be<3 so soft and sweet and beautiful!!

we return to each other in waves | cozycatwriter/@leon-trans-kennedy | 3.1k | GA

“Yes I do. Of course I do. You saved Chris and looked after him the best you could during a tsunami-and you’re still recovering from an embolism from having your leg crushed on the job. The least I could do is look after you and let you stay the night. Besides, Chris would want you to stay.” post-tsunami fics my beloveds <3 it genuinely makes me so happy to see new ones pop up, and this is truly an excellent one!! i love the bed-sharing especially!

you need a friendly hand (and i need action) | AmZamReads | 13.1k | E

Eddie picks up pottery as a hobby and accidentally blows up on Instagram for "accidentally" posting thirst traps of him throwing on the wheel. Buck stumbles across the account and immediately becomes obsessed with Eddie's hands, and horny shenanigans ensues. this fic makes me wish i could make pottery. i love eddie's pottery friends!! and a lovely buddie dynamic too <3

[midnight-mourning]

Jelly Hearts

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 7💘💘

I FORGOT TO POST THIS AHHHHHHH, my bad all, please enjoy some self-indulgent jealousy hehe

Prompt: also I think that I'd put in a request for some really jealous dca time. maybe they see reader getting some other valentines or hears that they have plans the day of after they're off work and assume that they've got a date (rightfully or incorrectly idk) and they just can't let this happen. y/n is Theirs™️

Word Count: 1750

Read here if you prefer ao3!

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

The flowers on the desk were a surprise, about a week before the middle of February, roughly. You weren't sure where they'd come from or what they were doing there, and found yourself very surprised to find it was in fact, a gift for you. The card stuck inside the bouquet had neat script, and was to the point. 

'Happy Valentine's day! From, Your Secret Admirer'

You'd asked the security guard if they knew anything about who had gifted it, but they had no clue either. It had been a common theme over the past few days, the kids had been gifting you early cards and treats, but this seemed to be a bit more than that. 

"What've you got there, Sunshine?"

You turn, confused smile on your face. "Looks like a gift! From a uh, secret admirer? You know anything about that?" You tease. 

Sun tilts his head sharply, rays and faceplate spinning from the force. 

"Hm, no. Don't think so!"

Your smile falls a bit, mainly because you'd been hoping it was him, and based on his tone he wasn't lying about it to mess with you either. "Oh, gotcha."

"But! I'll keep my eyes and ears peeled just for you, Starlight." He bends down quickly, coming eye to eye with you and booping your nose. "And if I do find out, I'll be sure to let you know."

He stands straight and walks off then, and it takes you a moment to process what just happened. You probably just imagined the edge to his tone. You shake your head, and glance back down to the vase. 

Huh. The card's missing. It must have dropped somewhere. 

But after a quick search you never did end up finding it. 

Not that it mattered much, as a day or so later you were sent another gift, this time jelly candy hearts and heart-shaped chocolates. Same message as last time, 'Happy Valentine's! Love, Your Secret Admirer'. You sat and enjoyed the sweets during nap time, just to keep from any little hands or pleading eyes from trying to snatch one for themselves. 

As you were snacking, Moon suddenly sat down beside you, hands folding into his lap and head almost snapping to look at you. 

You raise a hand to greet him. "Hey, Moon-man."

"Star."

You cock your head to the side, popping another candy in your mouth. "Need something? Or just come over to hang out?"

"Where did you get that?" He points to the half-opened box in your lap. 

You shrug, lifting the little slip of paper for him to read. "Secret admirer strikes again I guess."

"Seems so." He snarls out.

It surprises you, brows raised as you look at him again. "You alright?"

"Fine." He turns away from you and the card, facing forward to observe the Daycare. 

You don't speak again for the rest of the time. 

Similarly 'issues' arise throughout the rest of the week. Little gifts from that same person being sent your way, not to mention the growing number of cards and the likes from the Daycare kids. 

During all of this, the attendant pulled back from you, you weren't entirely sure why. They were shorter, blunter, not nearly as talkative or teasing with you. You wonder if it was because of all the attention you were getting compared to them, which made you feel awful. They deserved some appreciation too. 

It's not until the day of Valentine's that you realize who your 'Secret Admirer' is after all. Specifically, it was your best friend, who you'd been helping out with getting set up on a date the past couple of weeks. You'd laughed about it once you'd found out, getting on to them for 'leading you on' even though regardless of who your admirer was, your heart belonged to someone else. 

Specifically the two someone's who'd been avoiding you all week long. 

You planned to talk to them about it tomorrow, tonight you had to focus on holding to your promises and make sure your friend's date actually went well. You were going to shadow with another friend of yours to see to it the date proceeded smoothly. 

You sling your jacket over your shoulders, taking one last glance around the Daycare before you head to leave. Just as you turn to head to the door, your face knocks gently against something metal. You jump, stepping back to find that Sun is standing before you. 

"Going so soon, Sunshine?" He tilts his head, eyes uplifted crescents. 

You nod, smiling. "Yup! I have a date tonight—"

"A. Date?" 

You bite your tongue. You hadn't meant to say that at all. "Oh no, I just meant that—"

"You know, I think there's some cleaning up still left to do, friend." Sun takes you by the shoulders, and leads you back into the Daycare, you lose your jacket at some point in the process. 

You try to protest. "I, Sun I really should go—"

"Stay." He states, speech a bit garbled for a moment before uplifting into his usual cheer. "I really must insist! We can't have this place looking less than perfect when the kiddos come in tomorrow now, can we?"

You scan the play area, nothing seems out of place to you, so you say as much. "No offense, Sunny, but everything seems just fine—"

There's a crash to your left, over by the arts and crafts tables. Turning you're bewildered to see Sun lying amongst a disaster of spilled craft supplies, some of which leaks quickly onto the padded floor. You don't even know how he got over there, he was just right next to you moment's before.

You're not able to question it much before Sun's speaking up. "Whoops! I don't know what got into me! Could you lend me a hand with this, pretty please, Sunshine?"

"Of course but are you okay?" You ask, slightly hurrying as you walk over to him. "Don't need to go to Parts and Services or anything?"

Sun makes a noise similar to grinding gears, next words blunt. "No. It was just a simple mistake."

"I, right, right." You offer him your hand, which he takes and uses to help get to his feet. He doesn't let go once he is standing, however. Leaving you no choice but to hold his hand, lest you make this awkward. 

You think for a moment. You should stay and help clean this up, you know how neurotic he—and moon—can be when it came to messes. You did feel bad about not being able to make it up to them regarding their lack of gifts, this could be a good chance. Especially when the opportunity presents itself to you.

"And I'll tell you what, Starshine. If we clean up quick I'll make sure to it'll be worth your while. How's that?" His hand squeezes yours just a little tighter. 

Something about the way he phrases it makes your cheeks heat up. You cough into your hand with a nod. "Yeah, that um, sounds good."

"Perfect."

The next hour or two is a blur. After you cleaned up, the attendant had one activity then the next for you to do together.

Making a last couple of Valentine's crafts before putting the supplies away for the year, making puzzles, reading stories, acting out scenes, dancing to music. From one moment to the next it was something, something, something. You would have expected this out of Sun for sure, but the fact that Moon was just as active a participant was more than surprising. 

In a brief moment of a break, while sitting down to watch a movie, do you think to check the time. 

Twenty minutes before your friend's date. Shoot, you'd lost a lot more time than you'd thought. You peek up to Moon, who's focused on the screen in front of you both. He's got his arms wrapped around you as you sit—practically—in his lap. You think if you try to move you'll get trapped further, so you attempt with words first. 

"Hey, this has been, a lot of fun, but I really need to get going now, alright?" You put your hand on his. 

Moon's faceplate snaps down, hold on you instantly tightening. Not what you wanted in the slightest. "Why? Are they that much more important?"

"I, wait. Moon-man, are you jealous?"

He freezes, then looks away, hold on you slipping as he starts to shrink in on himself. "Yes. No. We both are." His next words are muttered, a mixture of static and, maybe another voice? "It's not fair. We've loved you for so long, but someone else gets to have you instead."

"You, you guys, like me?" You ask in the quiet.

Moon grips the edge of his hat, pulling it down over his eyes. You swear you almost see some of Sun's rays poking out behind his faceplate in the low light. "Not like, love. Too scared to say it until now."

"Even if I told you I cared about you both too?" You twist to face him fully, hands cupping his cheeks. 

He melts into your touch. "Even what?"

You giggle. "Would you still be scared to say it? If I said I loved you too?"

"Maybe, maybe not..." One eye peeks out from the hat. "But, you're taken." And again, that harsh tone comes back, resentment, you realize.

At this you can't take anymore and start to laugh. "No, I'm not. I've been, well not trying super hard, but I've been trying to tell you that since early."

You finally are given the chance to fully explain the situation, including the 'Secret Admirer' part of the whole deal. You watch the tension melt in the bot in front of you, quickly becoming embarrassed and flustered that they'd been jealous over nothing at all. 

Despite that, however, you end up having to text your friends that you can't help out tonight. As you've been told you have a lot of 'making up' to do for your 'awful' behavior. By both attendants, for that matter. 

You're still sitting in their lap, movie long forgotten and lights now raised just slightly. Yellow and blue hands trace patterns into your waist as they hold you tight, seeming afraid to let go despite your whispered assurances. Their rays flutter and faceplate clicks at every sound you make, intentional or not.

As you kiss and are kissed—over and over and over again—there's only one word they murmur back, consistently, without fail. 

"Ours."

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Thank you @juukai for the request! I enjoy making jealous dca a lot hehe, just feels very fitting to me >:)c

My writing Masterpost

DCA Valentine's Masterpost

Tag list (if you would like added, simply say so!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay @that-one-unknown-artist @rosescarletful @buzzybee3

[bluelavendre]

Please, I'll Change, I PROMISE!

Mafia Jungkook x Reader

Y/n’s Pov

Dating someone whose life is filled with shadows, whose actions are often unpredictable, is terrifying. One minute, you’re laughing together, lost in your own bubble, and the next, you’re haunted by the possibility that this chaotic love might cost you your life. And yet, with every scar, every tear, you still find yourself clinging to the love they offer, no matter how broken or twisted it might be.

Jeon Jungkook was a mystery when I first met him. I was on a business trip in Tokyo, minding my own business at a club. I didn’t know who he was, nor did I care. His charm was magnetic—dark eyes, that dangerous aura, a smile that made my heart skip even when I knew I shouldn’t have fallen for it. He seemed just like any other guy at the club... until the night of our anniversary.

We were at a high-end restaurant in Seoul, trying to enjoy our quiet dinner. I hadn’t noticed the tension in the air, the quiet whispers and the cold stares that followed Jungkook everywhere he went. Not until it was too late.

Gunshots rang out, shattering the silence. My heart raced, my mind couldn’t process what was happening. I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder, and everything went black.

When I woke up, the sterile smell of a hospital room hit me before I even opened my eyes. Jungkook was there, sitting beside me, his face clouded with guilt and something darker.

“You shouldn’t have gotten involved with me,” he muttered under his breath, as though the words physically hurt him. He wasn’t even looking at me, his hands clenching at his sides. I didn’t respond; the words I wanted to say got stuck in my throat.

“You don’t understand, do you?” he continued, his voice strained. “I never wanted you to get hurt. I swear, I tried... but it’s not that easy. This life, this world... it’s all I know.”

I saw it in his eyes then, the truth—the weight of the choices he had made. Jungkook wasn’t just a man who got caught up in bad situations. He was the situation. The danger, the chaos, the violence—it was all tied to him, and somehow, I had been pulled into it.

That night, he swore to me he would change, that he would get out of this life. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust that the man I loved could be different. But promises are fragile things, and the promises he made never lasted long.

Three years later…

Nothing had changed. We still lived in this cycle, like two people trapped in the same nightmare, unable to wake up.

Jungkook came home late, sometimes drunk, sometimes high, sometimes not at all. There were nights I’d wait for him, my heart pounding in my chest, praying that tonight would be different, that maybe this time he’d come back unscathed. But more often than not, he didn’t.

“You’re still waiting up for me?” Jungkook asked one night, his voice raspy and filled with a hint of amusement as he stumbled into the apartment, eyes bloodshot and full of something else I couldn’t quite place. "You're too good for me, Y/n. You deserve better."

“Then why don’t you give me better?” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, the hurt creeping into my words. "You promised you would stop."

He looked at me, his gaze sharp, almost cold, yet there was something beneath the surface. Guilt. Love. Regret? "I can’t walk away from this," he said, his words harsh, but his eyes softening. "You wouldn’t understand, Y/n. I’ve been in this for too long. It’s who I am, it’s what I do."

I knew it was no use. He couldn’t escape his past—he couldn’t escape who he was. And maybe I didn’t want him to. Because in the end, no matter how many times he hurt me, I couldn’t stop loving him. Maybe that was the real curse.

Jungkook walked over, kneeling in front of me, his eyes searching mine as if trying to find something he’d lost. His hand reached up to gently touch my face, his thumb brushing over the bruise he didn’t mean to leave.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I don’t want to hurt you. I never did.”

The words felt hollow, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t need to. His actions spoke louder than any apology ever could.

This was our reality. The love that could kill us both, and yet we stayed. Because no matter how chaotic, how painful, the connection between us was undeniable.

The blaring alarm ripped me from the warmth of my bed. With a groggy sigh, I stretched, rubbing the sleep from my eyes before glancing to the side. There he was—Jeon Jungkook.

Even in sleep, he looked intense. His long, dark hair was messily sprawled across the pillow, his tattooed arm resting over his toned chest, rising and falling with each breath. His physique was unfairly perfect—broad shoulders, defined abs, and ink that traced his skin like a masterpiece. If only he weren’t such a walking contradiction.

With a shake of my head, I slipped out of bed and headed for the shower. The water was warm, washing away my lingering exhaustion as I mentally prepared for another long day of lectures and hospital rounds. Being a med student was no joke—balancing school, life, and a relationship with someone like Jungkook? That was a whole different challenge.

By the time I was done getting ready, I stepped out of the bedroom only to be met with the smell of bacon and eggs. Jungkook stood in the kitchen, shirtless, tattoos on full display as he moved around effortlessly, flipping bacon in the pan.

“Babe, have breakfast first,” he said, turning to me with a soft smirk. His voice was still thick with sleep, but his dark eyes held that familiar intensity.

I took the plate he handed me, smiling as I looked down at the perfectly cooked meal. “This looks really good,” I said, meeting his gaze.

He simply grinned, the corner of his lip lifting slightly before he sat down across from me. We ate together in comfortable silence, the only sounds coming from the occasional clinking of silverware. Moments like these made it easy to forget who he really was outside the walls of our apartment.

Once we finished, I gathered the plates and washed them, my mind already racing through the long day ahead. When I turned around, Jungkook was by the door, pulling on his black leather jacket and grabbing his helmet. His inked fingers ran through his messy hair before he turned to me, his expression unreadable.

“Where are you going this early, Kook?” I asked, tilting my head in confusion.

He looked at me, a glint of amusement in his eyes, and held out my helmet. “I’m giving you a ride to school.”

I blinked. “You? Giving me a ride? Since when do you—”

“Since today,” he interrupted, a smirk playing on his lips. “Now, let’s go before you’re late.”

I rolled my eyes but took the helmet anyway, following him outside. His Harley Davidson was parked near the curb, sleek and polished, the engine humming beneath his fingertips as he revved it up.

Climbing on behind him, I wrapped my arms around his torso, feeling the warmth of his skin through his jacket. As we sped through the streets, the wind whipping against my face, I closed my eyes for a moment, allowing myself to pretend that this was normal—that we were normal.

When we finally arrived at my university, Jungkook parked by the entrance and turned to face me. His hand reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear before he leaned in, pressing a quick peck on my lips.

“See you later, babe,” he murmured, his voice husky.

I felt my face heat up as I glanced around, but no one seemed to care. Biting my lip, I nodded and slipped off the bike. “Be careful, okay?”

He smirked again, adjusting his gloves. “Always.”

With that, he rode off, disappearing into the morning traffic. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding before heading inside.

The moment I stepped into the hallway, two familiar faces rushed toward me.

“Oooh, boyfie,” Sungkyung teased, nudging my side.

I rolled my eyes. “Shut up.”

Jamie, on the other hand, wasn’t as amused. She crossed her arms, giving me that knowing look. “Y/n… you know what I’m going to say.”

I sighed. “Jamie, don’t.”

“You know he’s toxic,” she pressed, lowering her voice as we walked toward class. “You have your whole future ahead of you, and he’s—”

“I know,” I cut her off, not wanting to hear it again. “But it’s not that simple.”

Jamie pursed her lips but didn’t push further. No matter how many times she tried to convince me to leave Jungkook, she never forced it—she just let me make my own choices. Even if she knew they were mistakes.

Because, deep down, I knew she was right.

But knowing something and doing something about it were two very different things.

Detaching yourself from someone who was the only person you had left was harder than people made it seem. It wasn’t just about love—it was about survival. After my grandma died, there was no one else. No family to run to, no home that felt safe. Except for him.

Jungkook.

A text message popped up on my phone, pulling me from my thoughts.

“I’ll fetch ya after school, babe. Luv u ❤️”

I stared at the message for a moment, my chest tightening. I wanted to believe him. I really did.

—

Classes ended at 7 PM.

Jamie and Sungkyung stood by the entrance with me, exchanging hesitant glances as I reassured them. “He promised, okay? I’ll be fine.”

Jamie let out a sigh. “Just... call me if anything happens.”

I nodded, waving them off as they disappeared down the hall. Then, I waited.

7:45 PM.

8:00 PM.

8:30 PM.

The streetlights flickered, casting long shadows on the pavement. My breath curled in the cold air as disappointment settled deep in my bones.

"He must’ve forgotten." The words felt bitter on my tongue, but I forced a small, humorless smile to myself before turning away.

I went home alone.

—

The apartment was dim when I walked in, the faint scent of alcohol lingering in the air. And there he was—Jungkook, sprawled on the floor, his shirt half unbuttoned, reeking of whiskey and cigarettes. His long hair was disheveled, his knuckles bruised.

I stood there for a moment, just staring. Not with anger. Not with shock. Just... exhaustion.

Without a word, I walked past him, my heart heavy but my mind numb. I did my night routine in silence, changed into my oversized hoodie, and sat at my desk to finish my homework. I didn’t even know why I was trying so hard anymore.

Jungkook didn’t even stir. Didn’t even realize I was home.

Maybe he never really did.

When I finally laid down on the bed, my body felt like lead. My mind raced, drowning in thoughts I didn’t want to acknowledge. Why am I still here? Why do I keep waiting for him? Why do I keep hoping—

The bed shifted.

Warmth.

A strong arm snaked around my waist, pulling me close. The smell of alcohol mixed with his cologne hit me before his lips brushed against the back of my neck. His voice, deep and slurred, broke through the silence.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his grip tightening around me.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my throat burning. I didn’t move. Didn’t push him away.

“I tried,” he murmured, his breath warm against my skin. “I tried to come, baby... but I—I messed up again.” His voice cracked. “I keep messing up, don’t I?”

I felt my chest tighten painfully.

“You should leave me,” he continued, barely above a whisper. “I know I don’t deserve you. I ruin everything I touch.” His fingers curled against my hoodie, holding onto me like I was the only thing keeping him together. “But I don’t know how to let you go. You’re all I have, Y/n.”

A silent tear slipped down my cheek.

Because he was all I had too.

And that was the saddest part of it all.

The next day at school, I sat at the usual table with Jamie and Sungkyung, absentmindedly stirring my iced coffee with my straw. Last night’s events lingered in my head like a dull ache I couldn’t shake off.

Jungkook’s slurred words. His grip on my waist. The way I had silently cried myself to sleep while he held me like I was his lifeline.

“Y/n, hellooo?” Sungkyung waved a hand in front of my face, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Huh? What?” I blinked, realizing I had completely zoned out.

Sungkyung rolled her eyes playfully. “You so weren’t listening.”

Jamie sighed, nudging my arm. “We were saying—we should have a girl’s night!”

I gave a small, halfhearted smile. “That’s a nice idea…”

“Yes! Finally, you’re agreeing to something fun without us dragging you,” Sungkyung cheered.

Jamie, however, wasn’t as easily convinced. She studied me carefully, her brows furrowing. “Are you okay, Y/n?”

I hesitated. Lying felt useless—they both knew me too well.

“I just... didn’t get much sleep,” I admitted, taking a sip of my coffee. It wasn’t entirely false.

Sungkyung scoffed, crossing her arms. “Oh, I know why.”

Jamie shot her a warning glance, but it was too late.

Sungkyung leaned forward dramatically. “Let me guess—Jungkook promised to pick you up, but he never showed, so you waited, went home alone, and found him drunk?”

I flinched at how spot-on she was. My fingers gripped my cup tighter.

Jamie groaned. “Sungkyung.”

“What?! I’m just saying the truth.” She turned to me, her voice softening. “Y/n… I hate seeing you like this. You deserve so much better.”

Jamie nodded in agreement. “That’s why we need this girls’ night. No stress. No boy drama. Just us, unwinding.”

Sungkyung grinned, nudging me. “We’ll get you out of that sad, mopey mood if it’s the last thing we do.”

I let out a small chuckle despite myself. “You guys are too much.”

Jamie smirked. “And you love us for it.”

“Damn right she does,” Sungkyung said smugly. “So, it’s settled. We’re dressing up, going out, and reminding Y/n that life is fun without a tattooed, emotionally unavailable boyfriend.”

I rolled my eyes but felt a warmth spread in my chest.

Maybe, for just one night, I could pretend things were okay.

“Fine. I’m in.”

Sungkyung and Jamie cheered, high-fiving each other like they just won a battle.

I smiled—really smiled—for the first time that day.

Maybe this was exactly what I needed.

Friday night.

I zipped up my overnight bag, stuffing a few last-minute things inside before slinging it over my shoulder. The excitement for our girls' night should’ve been the only thing on my mind, but the heavy presence behind me was impossible to ignore.

Jungkook had just stepped out of the shower, his damp hair falling messily over his forehead as he towel-dried it. His tattoos were still glistening from the steam, and his silver lip ring caught the light as he spoke.

“How long are you gonna be there?” he asked, voice low.

I didn’t look at him. “I’ll be back on Sunday.”

Silence. Then, the bed creaked as he sat down, reaching for me. Strong arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me against him. His warmth was intoxicating, his scent a mix of soap and the faintest trace of whiskey from the night before.

“I’ll miss you,” he murmured against my shoulder.

I sighed, placing my hands over his for a brief moment. “I’ll be back. Don’t worry.”

Jungkook tightened his grip slightly. “I’ll fetch you on Sunday. I promise.”

I only hummed in response. Promises with Jungkook were... unpredictable.

—

The ride to Sungkyung’s place was quiet. Jungkook’s hand rested on my thigh as he drove, occasionally tapping his fingers against my skin like he wanted to say something but never did.

When we finally arrived, Sungkyung and Jamie were already waiting outside, arms crossed like two judgmental older sisters.

Jungkook barely had time to park before Sungkyung let out a low whistle. “Wow, what a rare sight. Jeon Jungkook actually following through on something?”

Jamie shot her a look before turning to me. “You good?”

I nodded, stepping off the bike as Jungkook handed me my bag. His fingers brushed mine for just a second too long.

Sungkyung leaned in, lowering her voice. “You better not mess this up for her, Jungkook.”

Jungkook only smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I said I’d fetch her, didn’t I?”

Jamie sighed, grabbing my arm. “Let’s go, before he starts making empty promises again.”

Jungkook tensed at that, but I only gave him a small nod before following my friends inside.

As we walked up to the door, Sungkyung whispered, “Okay, that was tense. We need shots. Immediately.”

I let out a breath and smiled. Maybe this weekend was exactly what I needed.

The weekend was full of laughter, inside jokes, and carefree moments with Jamie and Sungkyung. For the first time in a long while, I felt… happy. Really happy.

We danced in crowded clubs, ate overpriced desserts at cute cafés, and spent late nights in our hotel room talking about everything and nothing.

It felt normal.

It felt like a life I could’ve had.

As we lounged on the hotel bed, scrolling through pictures we took that weekend, Jamie suddenly spoke up.

“See?” she said, nudging me. “You’re happy without him.”

I stiffened. The warmth I felt earlier dulled instantly.

“Jamie, not this topic, please.” I sighed.

Jamie’s expression softened, but she didn’t back down. “Y/n… I’m just concerned for you. We are.”

Sungkyung nodded, her voice gentler than usual. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

I bit my lip, looking down at my hands. “I know.”

“Then why?” Sungkyung pressed. “Why are you still holding on?”

I exhaled shakily. “I’m just… waiting for the right moment.”

Jamie and Sungkyung exchanged glances, their worry evident.

A beat of silence passed before they pulled me into a tight hug.

“We’ll always be here for you,” they whispered.

I shut my eyes, swallowing the lump in my throat.

If only they knew that letting go felt just as terrifying as staying.

—

Sunday evening.

I stood outside the café near our meeting spot, my overnight bag slung over my shoulder, waiting.

7:00 PM.

7:30 PM.

8:15 PM.

Cold air brushed against my skin as I scrolled through my phone, rereading Jungkook’s last text from Friday.

“I’ll fetch you on Sunday. I PROMISE.”

I scoffed bitterly. Of course.

Jamie’s name popped up on my screen.

Jamie: Want me to take you home?

I stared at the message for a long time before replying.

Me: No, I got it. Thanks.

Dragging my bag behind me, I hailed a cab and made my way home.

—

The apartment reeked of smoke, alcohol, and something even heavier. The sound of laughter and music pulsed through the walls.

I stepped inside, my stomach dropping at the sight before me.

Jungkook was sprawled across the couch, his long hair messy, his tattooed arm draped over a half-naked girl sitting on his lap. His lips were slightly parted, pupils blown wide as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. A mirror with white powder sat on the coffee table beside empty bottles of whiskey.

His gang members lounged around, girls draped over them like accessories, lost in their own intoxication.

It was chaotic. It was filthy.

It was everything I had been trying to ignore.

My throat tightened, but I refused to make a sound.

Jungkook’s eyes flickered lazily towards me. For a split second, his expression faltered—just for a second—before he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“Ah, shit…” he muttered, rubbing his face with one hand. “I forgot, didn’t I?”

A girl whispered something in his ear, giggling as she ran her fingers down his chest. He didn’t push her away.

I clenched my fists.

I wasn’t even surprised.

I turned on my heel and walked straight to our bedroom, closing the door behind me.

I wouldn’t cry. Not this time.

I was just… tired.

So, so tired.

Author’s POV

Morning came, and Jungkook woke up with a pounding headache. His mouth was dry, his body heavy from the lingering effects of last night’s mess.

With a groggy groan, he rubbed his face, only to realize—something was off.

The bed beside him was cold.

His heart clenched as he turned his head.

No Y/n.

Panic surged through his veins. He shoved the blankets off and stumbled toward their wardrobe, yanking the doors open.

Her stuff was still there.

He let out a shaky breath, gripping his hair in frustration as flashes of last night hit him like a cruel movie reel. The powder. The drinks. The girls.

And Y/n.

Standing there. Watching him. Saying nothing, but saying everything.

The bathroom door clicked open, and he turned immediately.

Y/n stepped out, hair damp, her oversized shirt hanging loosely over her frame. But what caught Jungkook’s attention wasn’t her silence—it was her eyes.

Red. Swollen.

She had cried.

And he was the reason why.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he blurted out, stepping toward her.

She didn’t respond. Didn’t even look at him.

She just walked to the closet, pulling out a fresh pair of scrubs, acting as if he wasn’t there.

The coldness cut deeper than any words.

“Y/n…” He swallowed hard, desperate now. “Please. Just talk to me.”

Nothing.

She grabbed her bag, throwing in a few things, her movements stiff—controlled, like she was forcing herself to hold it together.

Jungkook exhaled sharply, his frustration bubbling over. “Damn it, can you just say something?!”

Y/n froze.

Slowly, she turned to him, eyes finally locking onto his. And when she spoke, her voice was eerily calm.

“You want me to talk, Jungkook?” she said, tilting her head. “Fine. Let’s talk.”

Jungkook felt his chest tighten.

“Let’s talk about how you forgot about me again,” she continued, stepping closer. “Let’s talk about how I had to take a cab home alone after waiting for you like an idiot.”

His jaw clenched. “Y/n, I didn’t mean to—”

“You never mean to, Jungkook!” she snapped, voice finally breaking. “But you always do! And I keep forgiving you like a fool!”

Jungkook reached for her, but she stepped back.

“You don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t understand!” She let out a bitter laugh, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I love you, Jungkook. But loving you is killing me.”

Silence.

A flicker of pain crossed his face. He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to break something—not at her, never at her—but at himself. At the mess he had become.

“I’m trying,” he muttered, voice strained.

Y/n scoffed. “No, you’re not. You just say that every time you mess up so I won’t leave.”

Jungkook’s throat tightened. He couldn’t deny it.

“I keep waiting,” she whispered, voice trembling now. “Waiting for you to change. Waiting for you to put me first. But I’m always second to the drugs. To the alcohol. To this life you promised you’d leave behind.”

Jungkook inhaled sharply, running a hand over his face. “Y/n, I—”

“Save it,” she cut him off.

She was done listening.

Jungkook stood there, fists clenched at his sides. He looked at her—really looked at her.

And for the first time… he saw it.

She wasn’t just mad.

She was tired.

Defeated.

The girl who used to look at him like he was her whole world… now looked at him like he was breaking it.

Jungkook swallowed the lump in his throat, voice barely above a whisper.

“…Are you leaving?”

Y/n opened her mouth.

Then closed it.

And that hesitation—that split second of uncertainty—made his chest ache.

Because maybe she wasn’t ready to leave.

But she wasn’t sure if she could stay either.

Author’s POV

Silence hung heavy between them, thick with unsaid words and broken promises.

Then, Jungkook moved.

Before Y/n could step away, his arms wrapped around her—tight, desperate, pleading. His face buried into her shoulder as his grip trembled.

“Please,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Don’t go.”

Y/n’s breath hitched.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to fight the way her heart clenched. She tried to push him away, hands pressing against his chest, but he only held on tighter.

“Jungkook…” she choked out.

“Just… just let me hold you,” he begged, his voice thick with emotion. “Just for a second.”

Her resolve wavered.

He smelled like a mix of alcohol and cigarettes, but beneath it—beneath all the things she hated—was the scent of the man she once fell so deeply in love with.

She felt his body shaking. His breaths uneven. And then—

A tear fell onto her skin.

Jungkook was crying.

Her chest tightened as he slowly sank to the floor, pulling her down with him.

They sat there, tangled in each other, knees touching, foreheads pressed together as silent tears slipped down their faces.

“I’m so sorry,” Jungkook whispered, voice raw. “I don’t know how to be better, but I swear to God, I— I love you.”

Y/n sucked in a shaky breath, blinking away her own tears.

“I know,” she murmured. “But love isn’t enough anymore, Jungkook.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head as his fingers clung to the fabric of her shirt like she would disappear if he let go.

“I can’t lose you,” he croaked.

Y/n’s bottom lip quivered. “Then why do you keep pushing me away?”

Jungkook had no answer.

So he just held her.

Held her like she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.

And for a moment, just a moment, Y/n let him.

Because no matter how much pain he caused—

Letting go still felt impossible.

Y/n’s sobs broke the silence, her body shaking as she finally let the pain consume her.

“I can’t do this anymore, Kook,” she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook stiffened. His heart clenched so painfully it felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Please don’t say that,” he sniffled, his arms tightening around her like she would slip away if he loosened his grip. “Please, baby, don’t.”

But Y/n shook her head, her tears soaking the fabric of his shirt.

“You don’t get it, do you?” she whispered, voice trembling. “I love you so much that it hurts, Jungkook. And the worst part?” She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, her lips quivering. “I don’t think you’ll ever stop hurting me.”

Jungkook’s chest ached. His hands found her face, thumbs brushing against her damp cheeks.

“I’ll change,” he swore, his voice desperate. “I promise—just give me one more chance. Just one more, baby, please.”

Y/n let out a bitter laugh through her tears.

“You always do,” she murmured. “You always promise.”

Her breath hitched as she clenched her fists.

“But I end up hurting every time.”

Jungkook sucked in a sharp breath, his hands falling away.

His throat tightened, eyes burning as her words sank in like a blade to his chest.

He wanted to argue. To tell her she was wrong. That this time would be different.

But how could he?

When she was right?

Jungkook reached for her again, fingers ghosting over her wrist, but she pulled away.

And that simple movement—so small, yet so final—broke something deep inside him.

“Y/n…” his voice cracked.

But she was already standing up.

Already walking away.

And for the first time—

Jungkook felt what it was like to truly lose her.

Jungkook’s grip loosened.

For the first time, he truly felt it—the weight of his mistakes.

Y/n stood up, her legs weak beneath her, wiping at her swollen eyes. She didn’t say another word, just walked to the bed and lay down, her back turned to him.

Jungkook hesitated before following, his heart hammering in his chest.

He knelt beside the bed, his vision blurred with tears as he looked at her. The woman he loved more than anything—lying there, silent, distant.

His chest ached.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I’ll change. I swear.”

Y/n didn’t react. She just kept staring blankly at the wall, tears silently slipping from the corner of her eyes.

“I’m so tired,” she murmured.

Jungkook swallowed the lump in his throat. He reached for her hand, but she didn’t hold him back.

The room fell into suffocating silence.

Hours passed. Evening fell.

Jungkook had eventually drifted off to sleep, his arms wrapped around her leg, holding onto her like a lost child. His breaths were uneven, as if even in sleep, he was afraid.

Y/n, however, stayed awake.

Her fingers lightly combed through his long, dark hair one last time, watching how peaceful he looked—how human he looked when he wasn’t drowning in alcohol, drugs, and violence.

Carefully, she shifted, easing his head onto a pillow. Jungkook stirred but didn’t wake.

She wiped her face and stood.

Then, with quiet, deliberate movements, she packed her things.

Her hands trembled as she folded the clothes he had once helped her pick out. As she placed the small gifts he had given her into her bag. As she looked around the room—their room—one last time.

Finally, she turned back to the bed.

Jungkook’s brows were furrowed, as if he could sense something was wrong even in sleep. His fingers twitched, reaching for someone who was no longer there.

Y/n felt her throat tighten.

She stepped closer, crouching beside him.

She hesitated—just for a second—before pressing the softest kiss to his temple.

“I love you, Kook,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

A tear slipped down her cheek as she lingered, memorizing the way he looked.

Then, with a shaky breath, she turned away.

And left.

Jungkook’s POV

His hands trembled as he gripped his hair, his breaths ragged and uneven. His head pounded, but nothing—nothing—hurt more than the emptiness in his chest.

"Hyung… I messed up," he choked out, voice raw with desperation.

Kim Namjoon sat beside him on the couch, his expensive cologne mixing with the thick scent of whiskey and regret that clung to the air. He exhaled slowly, swirling the dark liquor in his glass.

Jungkook's fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"It was because of that fucking woman," he spat, venom lacing his words. His jaw tightened, rage flickering behind his glassy eyes. “The bitch that was beside me that night!”

Kim Seokjin raised a brow from across the room, adjusting the sleeve of his luxurious suit. “And whose fault was that?” he asked, though his tone was indifferent, almost amused.

Jungkook’s nails dug into his palms. “If she hadn’t fucking been there, Y/n wouldn’t have left—”

“Oh, please,” Min Yoongi scoffed from the corner, his voice lazy as he tapped a cigarette against the edge of an ashtray. “You really think she left because of that girl? You’ve been screwing up for years, Kook. She was just looking for an excuse.”

Jungkook’s head snapped up, anger flashing in his bloodshot eyes.

“I don’t fucking care why she left,” he growled. “I want her back.”

A dark chuckle filled the room.

Jung Hoseok leaned back against the bar, pouring himself another drink. “So what, you’re gonna beg? Cry at her doorstep like some lovesick idiot?” He smirked. “Come on, man. You’re Jeon Jungkook.”

Park Jimin leaned forward, setting his drink down with a clink. “What exactly do you want to do, Kook?” he asked, his voice deceptively light.

Jungkook’s fingers twitched. His heart pounded in his chest.

“I want her back,” he repeated, but this time, there was something darker in his tone.

Taehyung, who had been silent until now, finally turned from the window. His sharp eyes gleamed under the dim chandelier lights.

“And what if she doesn’t want to come back?” he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

Silence filled the room.

Jungkook’s lips parted, but nothing came out.

The room was filled with men who didn’t believe in no. Men who built their lives by taking what they wanted—by force, if necessary.

Namjoon leaned forward, placing a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

"Then make her."

The air in the room thickened, the words settling deep into Jungkook’s mind.

His heart pounded. His grip tightened.

A slow smirk ghosted across Jimin’s lips as he reached for his phone. “Say the word, Kook,” he murmured, “and we’ll bring her back to you.”

Jungkook exhaled shakily, his mind clouded with desperation and obsession.

He had already lost her once.

He wasn’t about to let it happen again.

Basement of the Jeon Estate – Private Island

"Please! I didn’t do anything!" The woman’s sobs echoed through the cold, dark basement, her voice hoarse from screaming. She was on her knees, wrists bound together, blood smeared on the side of her face.

Jungkook towered over her, his face devoid of emotion. His grip on the gun was steady, his breathing calm. He had done this a hundred times before.

Yet this time, his rage burned hotter than ever.

"You were the one who caused this," he muttered, voice low and menacing. His eyes darkened as he took a step closer.

"You slut!" he spat before pulling the trigger.

A deafening bang echoed through the basement. The woman’s body slumped to the floor, lifeless. Blood pooled beneath her, staining the concrete.

Jungkook exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he turned away from the corpse. His hand didn’t tremble. His heart didn’t race.

He felt nothing.

A slow, deliberate clap filled the room.

“Well done, son,” a deep voice spoke from behind him.

Jungkook didn’t even flinch.

Jeon Junhyuk, his father, stepped forward, pride gleaming in his sharp eyes. His suit was pristine, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back perfectly. He rested a firm hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“I’m so proud of you.” His lips curled into a smirk.

Jungkook didn’t reply. He just nodded once, slipping the gun back into his holster as they exited the dimly lit basement.

The Jeon Estate – Dining Hall

The scent of roasted meat, cigar smoke, and expensive whiskey filled the grand dining hall. Laughter erupted from the long mahogany table, surrounded by men in tailored suits—Korea’s most powerful businessmen, criminals who masked their dirty dealings behind legitimate empires.

Women in silk dresses sat on their laps, giggling, whispering sweet nothings to the men who could end lives with a single phone call.

As Jungkook and his father entered, conversations hushed momentarily before resuming.

“Ah, Jeon!” Kim Sik, Taehyung’s father, raised his glass in greeting. “Join us! Your son is becoming quite the man.”

Junhyuk chuckled, pulling out his chair at the head of the table. “That he is,” he agreed, sipping his whiskey.

A woman with dark red lipstick slinked toward Junhyuk, her hands ghosting over his shoulders. “Mr. Jeon,” she purred.

Jungkook barely paid her any attention. He sat beside his father, silent, as he stared blankly at the table.

“Son,” Junhyuk’s voice cut through the noise. “Why not have another woman? There are plenty left for you.”

Jungkook’s eyes flickered to his father’s, his grip tightening around the glass in his hand.

The other men nodded in agreement.

“Yes, Jungkook,” Kim Sik added. “Women in Ireland, Australia… anywhere you want.”

Jungkook clenched his jaw, his gaze dark and unreadable.

“I am a man who loves a woman, Father,” he said, his voice steady but laced with an edge of finality.

The table quieted slightly, eyes turning toward him in curiosity.

Jungkook exhaled, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

“If I could have a family…” His voice softened for a moment. “It would only be with her.”

And for the first time in a long time, Jeon Jungkook felt something.

Regret.

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, the glow of the chandelier casting sharp shadows across his face. His fingers tapped against the rim of his glass, mind lost in thoughts of her.

He had always been selfish. He had always taken what he wanted.

And right now, he wanted her back.

“So,” a deep voice interrupted his thoughts.

Jung Kyuseok, Hoseok’s father, set his glass down with a soft clink, eyeing Jungkook curiously. “What’s your plan?” he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe we could help.”

Jungkook exhaled sharply, a ghost of a smirk forming.

“I’ll give her time,” he murmured, voice low. “I’ll make myself worthy of her.”

Some of the men scoffed. Others chuckled.

“Worthy?” Seokjin’s father raised an amused brow. “That’s a new one. Since when does a Jeon earn something instead of taking it?”

Jungkook’s fingers stilled against the glass.

“I will take her,” he said darkly, his voice laced with something far more dangerous. He looked up, his gaze cold, predatory.

“As soon as I’m ready.”

The meaning behind his words was clear.

The table fell silent for a moment before Junhyuk chuckled, swirling his whiskey lazily.

“That’s my boy.”

4 Months After the Breakup

Y/n’s POV

I curled up on the small couch, a warm cup of tea in my hands, as the soft hum of the city outside filled the quiet space of my apartment.

My apartment.

The thought still felt foreign. This place, once just an old memory of my grandmother, had now become my safe haven. It smelled of fresh linen and vanilla candles—nothing like the suffocating scent of expensive cologne and cigarette smoke that used to cling to my clothes.

I glanced around, taking in the cozy mess of my books stacked on the coffee table, the soft knitted blanket draped over the armrest. It was far from luxury, far from the extravagant penthouse I once shared with him—but it was mine.

For months, I thought I needed him.

For months, I convinced myself that without Jeon Jungkook, I would crumble. That my world would shatter beyond repair.

But here I was. Breathing. Living. Surviving.

And then it hit me—I can really live without him.

I wasn’t broken. I was just attached.

I exhaled, a small, almost bitter smile forming on my lips. Maybe this was always meant to happen. Maybe we were never made for each other, just two souls colliding at the wrong time, mistaking chaos for love.

And maybe, just maybe, letting go was the bravest thing I ever did.

The rhythmic sound of fists slamming against the heavy bag echoed through the private gym. Jungkook's muscles tensed with each strike, sweat dripping down his sculpted frame, his breath steady but heavy. He had been here for months—isolated, disciplined, clean.

No smoking. No drinking. No drugs. No women.

Just training, rebuilding, and regaining control.

“Son, walk with me,” a deep voice broke through the silence.

Jungkook exhaled sharply, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from his brow. His hands moved with practiced ease as he untied the wraps around his knuckles, his calloused fingers flexing as if ready to fight the ghosts in his mind.

He followed his father out of the training hall, stepping onto the grand garden path. The moon cast a silver glow over the vast estate, the air crisp with the scent of the ocean. Flowers of every color bloomed around them, swaying gently with the wind.

“These were your mother’s favorites,” Junhyuk murmured, his gaze softening as he reached out to touch a delicate white lily.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched at the mention of her. His mother—the only person who had ever taught him love without conditions.

Junhyuk turned to face him, his expression shifting back to its usual steel.

“This fortress is yours, son,” he stated, his voice laced with finality. “Continue the legacy that your mother and I started.”

Jungkook remained silent, staring at the empire laid before him.

Power. Wealth. Control.

It was all his for the taking.

Y/n’s POV

Months passed in a blur of textbooks, late-night study sessions, and the unrelenting pressure of med school. The anxiety and sleepless nights felt endless, but every moment was worth it. And today—today—it all came to fruition.

I stood at the front of the auditorium, my cap and gown draped over my shoulders, the sea of faces blurring in front of me. My friends, Jamie and Sungkyung, stood beside me, their smiles wide and bright. We had made it.

“I can’t believe we’re actually done,” Sungkyung whispered, squeezing my arm. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“I know,” I replied, my voice cracking slightly. “It feels unreal.”

Jamie grinned, her eyes playful as always, but there was an undeniable softness to her expression. “You did it, Y/n. You actually survived.”

We all laughed, the weight of the past few years finally lifting.

As the ceremony continued, I couldn’t help but think back on everything I’d been through—the highs, the lows, and everything in between. There was a part of me that had once thought I couldn’t do it, that I wasn’t strong enough. But I was. I had proved that to myself.

Graduating wasn’t just about the degree; it was about the journey. It was about finding strength in moments of vulnerability, realizing that no matter how hard it got, I could always stand back up.

“Look at you, all grown up,” Jamie said, nudging me. “Soon, you’ll be the one saving lives.”

“Maybe,” I chuckled, but my heart swelled with pride.

Sungkyung wrapped her arms around me. “You’ve come a long way, Y/n. I’m so proud of you.”

I smiled, feeling a weight lift from my chest. For the first time in a long while, I felt truly content.

Author’s POV

Two years had passed.

Y/n had moved on, embracing the life she had built for herself. She had no time for the ghosts of the past, no time to dwell on what might have been.

She was thriving.

Working as a doctor at a private hospital, she had made a name for herself—though still considered a newbie, she carried herself with confidence. Every day was an opportunity to prove that she could stand tall on her own, no longer tied to a world of chaos and heartache.

Tonight, as the amber glow of streetlights reflected off the pavement, Y/n pulled into the parking lot of her small, cozy apartment. The engine of her modest car hummed as she cut it off, the silence of the late evening settling around her. She wasn’t driving some sleek, expensive car, but the one she had now was hers.

She stepped out, locking the car, and grabbed the grocery bags from the passenger seat. They were a mix of essentials—nothing glamorous, just the basics after a long shift. Her feet carried her toward the entrance of the building when a familiar voice called out from behind her.

“Hey, Dr. Y/L/N!”

Y/n turned to find her neighbor, Suxi, standing by her door with a friendly smile on her face.

“Hey, Suxi,” Y/n greeted her with a tired but warm smile, her eyes still holding that glimmer of kindness that never seemed to fade.

Suxi took a moment to look at Y/n, her gaze thoughtful. “Long shift, huh?” she asked, noticing the exhaustion in her eyes.

Y/n nodded, adjusting the grocery bags in her hands. “Yeah, but it’s worth it. One step closer to where I want to be.”

Suxi chuckled. “I see that. You’re always hustling. You know, you’re really something, Y/n. I admire you.”

Y/n paused for a moment, looking up at the stars overhead. “Thanks, Suxi. It hasn’t been easy, but I think it’s starting to feel like it’s all coming together.”

“Good,” Suxi said with a smile, “You deserve it.”

The exchange was simple, but there was something about the moment that made Y/n reflect. Two years had gone by, and she was stronger than she had ever been. She had rebuilt herself—piece by piece, day by day.

But somewhere, deep down, she couldn’t shake the lingering question: What about him?

Jungkook’s days had been spent in a haze of cold isolation, but he had not forgotten. Even in the silence of his private island retreat, his mind often wandered back to her.

She had moved on.

He had seen her, unknowingly, through the lens of others—his men. He wasn’t foolish enough to approach her directly. Not yet. But he needed to know. He needed to see for himself how she was living, whether she was truly gone from his life or whether some part of her still lingered.

The men were discreet, of course.

Their orders were clear:

Follow her. Watch her.

They had been tailing her for weeks now, their presence so subtle she wouldn’t even know she was being watched. Jungkook sat in the shadowed confines of a luxury car parked far enough down the street, watching her apartment from behind tinted windows. A man in a dark suit, sitting beside him, leaned forward and spoke in a low tone.

“She just left her building, sir. Heading to the grocery store.”

Jungkook nodded once, his eyes narrowing. His fingers clenched into a fist on his lap.

“Good,” he muttered. “Keep watching.”

His men followed her every move—tracking her comings and goings, making sure nothing went unnoticed. Y/n’s world, her quiet life, was being slowly cataloged. Every smile exchanged with neighbors, every simple errand completed, and every peaceful moment she thought was hers—he saw it all.

From the rearview mirror, Jungkook’s reflection stared back at him, cold and distant.

It was maddening, the way he couldn’t let go, even as she moved forward, living her life without him.

A part of him was still haunted by her absence, consumed by the idea of losing her.

“Make sure she’s safe,” he ordered quietly, his voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside him. “No one gets too close.”

The men nodded in silence, as they continued their watch.

Y/n’s feet echoed softly against the hallway floor as she walked toward her apartment door, the weight of the grocery bags pulling at her arms. The world around her seemed peaceful, as it always did after a long shift. Her neighbors had already retired for the night, and the usual hum of city life had quieted down.

But tonight, something felt different—like a quiet tension in the air she couldn’t quite place.

As she approached her door, she heard footsteps behind her—slow, deliberate, too steady to be a casual passerby.

Before she could react, strong arms grabbed her from behind. A sharp gasp escaped her lips as she struggled against their hold, her grocery bags slipping from her grip. She spun around, but the cold steel of a gun pressed to her side froze her in place.

“Don’t scream,” one of the men warned, his voice low and menacing.

Y/n’s heart hammered in her chest, panic flooding her system. She couldn’t even scream if she wanted to—the threat of the gun was too real. She instinctively reached for her phone, but another man grabbed her wrist, twisting it painfully.

“What the hell do you want?” she demanded, her voice trembling but defiant.

“We’re not here for you to talk, Dr. Y/L/N,” another man said, his grip tightening.

They started to drag her toward the elevator, her feet stumbling as she struggled to break free. The cold, silent presence of the men only intensified her fear. She recognized their faces—sharp suits, dark expressions—no one she knew, but they had the look of people who didn’t care if they were noticed.

They shoved her into the elevator, one of the men pressing the button for the ground floor. Y/n’s breath came in shallow gasps, her mind racing for an escape, for anything she could do to get out of this. She barely registered the elevator descending—her focus was on the sharp edge of the barrel against her side, the feeling of helplessness beginning to drown her.

When the elevator doors opened, they pulled her out into the underground garage, where a black van was waiting. The men shoved her into the back with frightening ease, slamming the door behind her.

The moment she landed in the cold, dark interior, the door to the front of the van opened, and a figure stepped inside—Jungkook.

Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide with shock.

“You...” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Jungkook stood in front of her, looking more like a stranger than the man she once loved. His hair was a little longer, his face harder, the darkness in his eyes unmistakable. He looked almost... broken.

“Y/n,” he said softly, his voice rough, like he wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m sorry.”

Her heart twisted painfully in her chest. “What have you done?” she managed to choke out, the betrayal and fear flooding her in equal measure.

Jungkook stepped forward, his face serious, but his hands trembled as he reached for her.

“I had to. I... I didn’t know how to get you back, but I’m not letting you go again.”

The van rumbled down the road as Y/n sat there, her heart racing in her chest. Jungkook’s presence in the van made everything feel so much heavier. His face was set in a grim expression, but there was something unreadable in his eyes. He hadn’t said much since she had seen him, and the weight of silence between them was suffocating.

She pulled herself away from him, trying to steady her breathing, but the panic only grew.

“You don’t have to do this,” Y/n said, her voice shaking but firm. “Let me go. Please, Jungkook.”

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze cold, as though he were still wrestling with his own emotions.

Before she could say anything else, one of the men in the back of the van moved toward her. He was tall, wearing a black suit, his expression blank. He pulled out a small syringe from his pocket and showed it to her, the liquid inside swirling ominously under the dim lights of the van.

“No,” Y/n whispered, her voice low and panicked. “Please—what are you doing?”

The man didn’t answer, his face stone-cold. He grabbed her arm roughly, and before she could even try to pull away, the needle pierced her skin.

The cold sting of the injection spread through her veins, and a strange dizziness washed over her immediately. Her body felt heavy, like the weight of the world had suddenly shifted to her shoulders.

“No... no, please...” Y/n’s words slurred as she fought against the effects of the sedative. Her mind was starting to fog over, the world around her blurring. She tried to push herself up, to get away, but the strength to move was slipping away.

Jungkook’s eyes locked onto hers, a faint, almost sorrowful look in his gaze.

“I didn’t want to do this, but you left me no choice.” His voice was barely a whisper, and it hurt more than the physical pain.

She opened her mouth to speak, to plead with him one last time, but her vision swam, her head growing heavier by the second.

“I’m sorry, Y/n…” Jungkook’s voice was the last thing she heard before everything went dark.

Her body slumped, her head falling against the cold, hard surface of the van as the sedative pulled her into an unconscious haze.

Author’s POV

The low hum of the boat’s engine was the only sound filling the thick silence of the night. Y/n was completely unconscious, her body slumped in the back of the van, but her mind was still lingering somewhere in the darkness. The sedative had done its job, but it didn’t erase her awareness—only dulled it.

She could hear the men talking, their voices muffled but distinct in the space around her.

“What are we going to do with her, boss?” one of the men asked, his tone filled with cold curiosity.

Jungkook’s voice, steady and commanding, cut through the air.

“Take her to the room,” he ordered, his words deliberate, like each one was weighed with a heavy, irreversible finality.

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat despite the fog in her mind. The room? She didn’t understand, couldn’t comprehend what they meant.

Her head felt heavy, like it was being pulled underwater, but she could still hear them clearly.

“The room?” the man asked again, his voice betraying some uncertainty.

Jungkook didn’t falter. “Yes, the lab. The doctor that Kim Sik hired will be there, and she’ll do her part.”

Y/n’s body twitched involuntarily as her heart pounded against her ribcage. Lab? She could barely process the words as they hit her like a wave. What were they planning to do with her? The dread crept in, but her body refused to respond—still too sedated to fight, too weak to even move.

Jungkook’s voice softened just slightly, as if trying to reassure her despite the cold command in his previous words.

“You’ll be okay, baby,” he said, his words barely a whisper in the room. The tone was strangely gentle, like he was speaking to the woman he loved and not the person he had just dragged into this terrifying reality. “You’ll wake up, and everything will fall into place.”

But his words didn’t bring comfort. They only deepened the pit of fear that had already started forming in her chest.

Y/n’s eyelids fluttered, a half-conscious attempt to wake up, but the sedative still held a firm grip on her senses. Her mind raced, but her body was far too heavy to move. She felt as if she were sinking deeper into the darkness with each passing second.

Author’s POV

Y/n jolted awake, gasping for air as she clutched her stomach. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breaths shallow and erratic. She blinked rapidly, trying to focus on her surroundings. She was in their bed, the familiar sheets surrounding her. The nightmare she had just woken from felt so vivid, so real. She could still feel the coldness of the laboratory bed, her clothes being ripped away, and the excruciating numbness spreading across her body. But now... now she was safe.

She touched her stomach instinctively, but when her fingers brushed over her skin, she froze. Her fingers curled around a cool metal band—a wedding ring. Jungkook.

Her eyes widened as the confusion washed over her. The dream, the nightmare, was so real, so terrifying. But... where was the baby?

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Jungkook’s voice pulled her from her racing thoughts. His voice was raspy, like he had just woken up as well, though his tone was laced with concern. He reached for her gently, brushing her hair back as she sat up on the bed. “Come back to sleep, babe,” he urged softly.

Y/n blinked, still trying to piece everything together. “I… I thought…” She trailed off, shaking her head as her confusion only deepened.

The morning light crept into their room, but Y/n still felt unsettled, as if the fog of the nightmare was clinging to her, threatening to pull her under once again.

She stumbled out of bed, the dizziness hitting her like a wave. The nausea crept up in her stomach before she even made it to the bathroom. She barely managed to make it to the sink before she bent over, vomiting heavily.

Jungkook was quick to follow, his hands gentle as he held her hair back, his other hand resting on her back as he murmured softly.

“Baby, let’s get you checked out, babe,” he said, his voice filled with concern. There was an underlying tension in it, but it wasn’t the same coldness she had grown used to.

Y/n wiped her mouth, the taste lingering bitterly. “Yeah, I think so too... I’ve been dreaming weirdly these past few weeks,” she admitted, her voice hoarse. The feeling of the nightmare still haunted her, and the confusion lingered like an unwelcome guest.

Jungkook’s expression was unreadable as he helped her back to their bed, though his eyes flickered with something she couldn’t quite place. He was trying to be supportive, but something about his demeanor made her feel like he was hiding something.

After a brief moment of silence, they were on their way to the hospital, the drive uneventful but tense.

Once they arrived, Y/n was led into a sterile examination room, the hospital’s cold air doing nothing to ease the chill she felt inside. The nurse led her inside, and she couldn’t help but blink in surprise when she saw the woman’s face. It was... Sungkyung.

For a brief moment, Y/n thought she was still in the dream. The nurse's face was the same, and the familiarity sent a shiver down her spine.

“Sungkyung?” Y/n asked in disbelief, but the nurse simply smiled warmly at her.

“Just call me Nurse Jung,” she said lightly, adjusting her clipboard.

The doctor came in shortly after, and Y/n’s breath caught in her throat when she saw her. The doctor had the same features, the same aura. It was Jamie.

Jamie’s face looked as serious as ever, but Y/n could see a glimmer of recognition in her eyes.

“Y/n, we’ll take good care of you,” the doctor said, her voice calm but filled with concern. “I know you’re worried, but we’re going to run a few tests to make sure everything is okay.”

Y/n swallowed thickly, her mind still hazy from the nightmare. Tests? But what was she supposed to be worried about?

The doctor pulled out an ultrasound machine, and Y/n was too exhausted to protest. The cold gel hit her stomach, sending a wave of discomfort through her body. The monitor flickered to life, and her heart skipped a beat when the technician started moving the wand around.

Jamie, standing next to her, gave a soft, reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Y/n. We’ll see what’s going on in there.”

But when the screen lit up, Y/n’s entire world stopped. The small, flickering shape on the monitor was unmistakable. It was a baby.

Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Am I...?”

“Yes,” Jamie said gently, nodding. “You’re pregnant, Y/n.”

A heavy silence filled the room. Y/n’s mind raced as her hand instinctively went to her stomach. The baby. The nightmare. She was pregnant.

But the question that filled her head was why? Why did she have no memory of this? What happened to her during the time she’d been missing? What was Jungkook hiding?

Tears filled her eyes as the truth sank in. She wasn’t just haunted by her nightmares—there was something much darker she had yet to understand.

Y/n’s heart was pounding in her chest, her hands shaking as she looked at the ultrasound screen. The small flickering shape of the baby—it was unmistakable. The words the doctor spoke barely registered in her mind, her breath caught in her throat as her world seemed to spin out of control.

“You’re pregnant, Y/n.”

The words echoed in her head like a haunting melody, but something deep inside her instinctively felt like there was more. The nightmare, the strange sensations, the growing sense of dread—it all made sense now, but it didn’t quite fit. How was she pregnant? What had happened during the time she couldn’t remember?

Jamie, still standing next to her, looked at her with concern, her gaze lingering on Y/n as she processed the news.

“You’re going to be okay, Y/n,” Jamie said softly, but her voice didn’t sound reassuring. It was filled with an unspoken worry, like there was something more hidden beneath the surface.

Y/n’s eyes darted between Jamie and the monitor. “How… How long have I been pregnant?”

The question hung in the air, and Jamie’s silence spoke volumes. She shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the nurse who stood in the corner of the room.

“I… I need to check something,” Jamie finally said, her voice quieter than before.

Before Y/n could ask anything further, Jamie stepped away, whispering something to the nurse who quickly left the room. The air felt thick with tension, and Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

Suddenly, the door to the examination room creaked open again. A figure entered, standing still in the doorway for a moment.

Jungkook.

His eyes locked onto hers, and his face was unreadable. He stepped inside, his footsteps slow but deliberate. The cold, emotionless look in his eyes made Y/n’s chest tighten.

"Y/n..." he began, his voice barely above a whisper, the weight of the moment hanging between them.

“Jungkook…” Her voice cracked, too many questions swirling in her mind. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me I was pregnant?"

His eyes flickered with something unreadable, then a shadow passed over his face. He walked closer, his presence overpowering the room.

“Because I didn’t want you to know,” he said softly, the words sending a chill down her spine.

A silence settled between them, thick and suffocating. And just as Y/n opened her mouth to respond, she heard a soft knock on the door.

A voice from behind the door, low and authoritative, echoed through the room:

“Mr. Jeon... we have a problem.”

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes darted between Jungkook and the door. What could be more of a problem than this?

Jungkook’s expression turned cold, and he glanced back at the door. “Not now,” he muttered, but the voice on the other side persisted.

“It’s urgent, sir.”

Jungkook’s eyes met Y/n’s for a moment, his gaze darkening. The tension was palpable.

“Stay here,” he said to Y/n, his voice low, a command disguised as concern. But she could feel the weight of his words—there was something more behind them.

Before she could respond, he turned, walking swiftly toward the door.

“Wait, Jungkook, what’s going on? What’s happening?” Y/n called out, panic rising in her chest.

But Jungkook didn’t look back. As the door slammed shut behind him, Y/n was left alone in the room, her heart racing, her mind spinning.

The sound of muffled voices outside the door grew louder as she sat there, alone with her thoughts. She had no idea what was happening, what Jungkook had been hiding from her all this time.

And then, suddenly, a soft beep filled the room—an ominous sound coming from the monitor beside her.

She looked at the screen, her eyes widening as the numbers on the machine flickered and changed.

It wasn’t just her pregnancy that was a mystery anymore.

It was everything.

[sinful-lanterns]

Since you appreciate my fuzzy tarantula Garofano headcanon, I'm going to spoil you with this little scene I had in mind for Researcher and Drider!Garofano. 😌 Basically, Researcher's being her usual inquisitive self about Garofano, and it starts getting a little sexy. There's a little NSFWish stuff toward the end, but there's nothing too explicit. Maybe I'll consider writing more eventually. Also, I haven't written dialogue in ages, so I apologize for how rusty I am... 😅 Hopefully, this isn't too bad though! ------

You realize this is a bit of an awkward position for Garofano.

You've seen enough dead spiders before--flopped on their backs with their limbs curled toward their torsos with the eternal and graceless rigor of death.

But with the size of Garofano's web, it wasn't too difficult to convince the drider to rest comfortably on her back. You had bribed her with freshly-cooked food--skewers of cubed deer meat from one of her earlier hunts that you had roasted over the open fire. You had also come with some skewers of the raw meat as well if she had preferred something more... fresh.

All the same, it's in her web that the drider reclines herself back on her web, content to eat from your offering while you sit on the length of her abdomen. Garofano seems entirely unbothered by your weight even as you run your hands through the thick fuzz beneath you. The texture reminds you somewhat of bumblebees with its softness. You press a little harder as you rub curiously along one section of her torso, eliciting a soft sound from Garofano.

You look up quickly to see if you might have caused her discomfort, but the drider's eyes are blissfully closed. Movement behind you then draws your gaze that way, and you're momentarily taken aback when you see one of Garofano's segmented legs kicking with seeming delight at your continued touch.

You can't help but giggle.

Rahu did that too sometimes whenever you gave the domesticated werewolf belly rubs.

"So are all driders furry like you?" you ask, one-handedly opening up your trusted notebook while awaiting a response. "No. It varies by region. The hair you see on my abdomen and legs serves a purpose for the driders found in mine though: it allows us to sense vibrations in the air," Garofano explains.

Your eyes widen as you distractedly write that all down. "Really?"

"Yes. Even when standing still, I can tell which direction my prey might be running in."

Wow.

No wonder Garofano's such an amazing hunter.

That little fact was almost as intriguing as the dual claws you found at the tip of each of Garofano's legs during your earlier exploration of her. The drider had said they were used for climbing up vertical or uneven surfaces, but they were otherwise kept retracted. At such a revelation, you had pulled one of the limbs in question closer to you while doing nearly everything in your power to get the claws in question to pop out for you. In your excitement, you had neglected the fact that the leg tip was also directly in front of your face while you were attempting this.

It had earned you a soft, fond sigh along with a chiding "Darling..." before Garofano turned your attention away from her limb by cupping your face within her hands and sweetly smooching you into submission. You could still remember how you hot your face burned when Garofano broke the kiss to give you a nip on your bottom lip before going back to her meal.

Speaking of...

"So... do you fangs do anything else?"

Your question has Garofano blinking curiously. "I can inject venom through them."

That has you bolting upright.

You're venomous?!

"I can control the amount of venom at will," she elaborates calmly upon seeing your expression. "I can inject enough to kill or just paralyze my prey, but often times I forego the need entirely."

"Oh?"

Garofano's shoulders shrug elegantly. "It's more satisfying when I get my prey to submit to me completely of their own volition."

Try as you might, you can't stop the reaction her words give you, especially as you let your imagination runs wild.

------

You can see yourself running through a shallow stream, trying to throw the predator hunting you off your trail. If you leave no tracks behind, then surely you couldn't be found, right?

Right?

You don't know how long you keep running, but you eventually hop onto a grassy bank as your energy begins to wane. With any luck though, the one pursuing you will keep following the path of the stream while you gain further distance between you both.

As the minutes pass, you begin to think your escape is all but assured. In fact, you can see the edge of the forest just some meters beyond you, and you can't help your immense relief as your arms and legs pump faster, urging you towards your well-earned victory.

But then your momentum is completely thrown off when something sticky and threadlike hits your flailing wrist, sending you crashing forwards to the ground. Perplexed, you struggle to get back to your feet, but your wrist remains stubbornly fixed to the forest floor by the webbing that encases it. Panicked, you use your free hand to try and rip it away, but in your distraction, you don't seem the looming figure behind you until it's too late.

In less than a second, your captor has your cheek pressed against the grass while she constructs another lattice-like shackle to bind your other wrist to the ground. You can feel furred limbs pulling at your hips, lifting them up, while another pair make quick work in shedding the clothing covering your lower half.

"You gave me a wonderful chase," a smooth voice croons down at you while firmly nudging at your legs, silently demanding them to spread wider--wide enough that you can feel the chill of the air as you're suddenly left exposed and vulnerable. "Shall I reward you for your efforts, dear?"

You can't find it in you to draw a response, especially when something blunt and wide presses against your wet folds...

------

"Something tells me it wouldn't take much to earn your surrender."

You come out of your thoughts with a jolt to see Garofano looking at you with knowing eyes, but you can see the way her already dark eyes have dilated with considerable interest. It only enhances the very faint smirk on her lips, and you can't help but duck your head with a blush.

"You can tell?" you squeak out, earning low laughter from the drider as she cups your burning cheek.

"While I can't say that my senses are quite as enhanced as our canid companions, I can always tell when you're excited around me. You smell so very good when you are," she admits, voice low with desire, as her hand slips from your cheek to gently wrap around the front of your throat. "Would you like to experience what being my prey is like? Happily cavorting about in the forest before unexpectedly finding yourself on the chase of your life as you're hunted down by a bigger, stronger beast?"

You can't stop yourself from nodding rapidly, heart fluttering when that earns you a fanged grin from Garofano.

"Very well. When I capture you, I'll give you a bite. Right here," she says, rubbing her thumb where your neck meets your shoulder. "That will be my initial prize before I take what else has been offered to me. For now..." She leans forward to give you a chaste kiss--a taste of what's to come. Her smile then as she parts from you is all pure sin. "I'll give you a ten-minute head start..."

-- 🌙 anon (maybe I'll make myself a side blog one of these days)

GOD I'VE BEEN HOARDING THIS ASK FOR SO LONG. I think it's about time I finally post it though, it's just so good I need to share it with everyone, it's practically a fic...

FLUFFY TARANTULA GAROFANO MY BELOVED. I'm so in love with the Researcher just casually sitting on the tummy of Drider! Garofano's spider half, completely comfortable as she examines each one of Garofano's spider feet. Fun fact, did you know tarantulas have little paws? When you push a little on the tips, they splay out similar to cat paws. IMAGINE THE RESEARCHER PRESSING AGAINST GAROFANO'S TIPS AND WATCHING THEM SPLAY OUT. HER LITTLE PAWS AGJHSKHD--

And ofc, there's playing predator and prey with Garofano. I like to think that running from Garofano is a form of "exercise" to her now that she lives with the Researcher. As she no longer has to hunt for food on her own, Garofano keeps her body active by hunting you down in the wilderness to keep that predator instinct alive. It gives her such a rush and usually by the end of the chase, she excitedly ties you up and brings you back to her web to "reward" you for your efforts.

You really cooked with this ask, anon. You always do. You should totally make that writing blog, I encourage it <3

[hitlikehammers]

unforeseen complications 🩸 steve/kas!eddie

“What’s wrong?” Steve doesn’t try to sit up again, knowing Eddie wants, more like needs to press against Steve like this because…they’d pushed the boundaries. Eddie had needed more blood than normal, because they’d skipped out on more than one quick snack-time. And Steve does feel the hit harder for it. It’s not a foreign feeling, though: the aftermath, beyond what his own body needs to recover— “We can’t keep doing this, Steve.”

rating: t ♥️ tags: post-s4, kas!eddie, established relationship, angst with a happy ending, as in: eddie angsts about his new vampiric tendencies while steve has none of it, true love, blood drinking (just a little), terrified eddie (that he did steve any possible damage), long-suffering steve (who knows it’s all completely fucking FINE and also they’re dumb in love forever)♥️

for @steddielovemonth day eight: "I'll take care of you." "It's rotten work." "Not to me. Not if it's you." —Euripides

Steve is groggy, his head’s a little fuzzy and unevenly weighted in that way he can already tell will make him dizzy when he opens his eyes and tries to lift it—so he doesn’t, not just yet—but normally he sleeps this part off. Normally the side effects aren’t as sharp as this is already shaping up to be, because his body keeps him blissful conked out long enough where it’s all a little more of a dull roar that he can ignore while he gets through the day and slides slow back to normal.

And it’s not like it gets this intense that often; it’s in extenuating circumstances. Sometimes one’s they create for themselves, sure, but usually it’s some world-threatening shitfuckery that pushes the limits this bad. Like…at least eight times out of ten.

At least.

So it’s weird that he’s waking up before he’s due to shake off the worst of it, when said worst-of-it is still clinging to his skin, his eyeballs, the linings of his veins.

He tries to make sense of what he can feel through the fog: weight, mostly. Something heavy that’s not just his own body rebelling against regaining consciousness too soon. There’s…something on top of him.

Heavy.

Shaking.

There’s a sound, maybe, like…breathing but that’s shaky too and—

Oh.

Oh no, it’s not just shaky.

The weight on top of him’s fucking crying, and trying real hard not to be found out for it.

Steve would goddamn know what that sounds like, specifically. From a whole-ass lifetime of experience in his godforsaken family.

And Steve knows what his own fucking boyfriendsounds like in distress, so—

“Eds,” Steve doesn’t even have to push to open his eyes and sit up too fast because there no dizziness, no nausea he can’t work through when Eddie in need is on the other side of it; “what’s wrong, what happened, I—”

The hand on his chest is firm but awkward, because Eddie is still splayed over his chest, doesn’t seem to have any intention of moving at all.

“Lay back down,” Eddie’s voice is muffled in Steve’s skin; “save your strength, you’re still,” and yeah…muffled, but too rough, cracked down the middle; “you’re…”

More than cracked, fuck. Shattering.

“What’s wrong?” Steve doesn’t try to sit up again, knowing Eddie wants, more like needs to press against Steve like this because…they’d pushed the boundaries. Eddie had needed more blood than normal, because they’d skipped out on more than one quick snack-time. And Steve does feel the hit harder for it. It’s not a foreign feeling.

And the aftermath, beyond what his own body needs to recover—

“We can’t keep doing this, Steve.”

—is also not unexpected. Pretty fucking routine now. Steve’s even practiced enough to swallow down the urge to sigh.

Because, considering that Eddie is skin-to-skin, blanketed on top of Steve under about seven blankets, more than Steve even knew they owned as he shudders through something suspiciously close to sobbing while the tone of the words screamheartbreak: Steve would have every right to be concerned when it sounded a whole hell of a lot like his boyfriend was trying to break up with him.

The first time was a fucking doozy, sure. Second time even, that sucked too.

Now though, with it being fairly fucking routine for…close to a year, now, especially after rough runs like last night?

Steve’s kinda learned to take it as the sign of affection he’s come to understand it stems from, deep in Eddie’s too-soft, too-tender chest, always having been ready to feel so fucking much—Steve wishes he’d known it sooner. Maybe they could have felt less alone, together.

Whatever. They’re here now.

Though it’d been a pretty free-and-clear couple of months—Eddie had only crumbled so far as to have shaken in a corner in Steve’s arms for close to probably five hours one of the three or so times they’d had to stretch too much time between regular feedings—because when Eddie came back, when he appeared in Steve’s living room dripping the black sludge the Upside Down seemed to specialize in best—trembling and stammering and…be-fanged.

And Steve had just looked at him, gaped a couple minutes—which he stands by being wholly fair and justified—and then did the only genuinely sane thing he could have done, given the givens.

He’d pushed Eddie toward the nearest fucking bathroom, under some hot water, and cleaned him the fuck up.

And didn’t think—yet—about how warm it made Steve: the sight of Eddie’s naked frame under the spray as it slowly siphoned off the goo.

Nope. Not the time.

He was sick, though, that was clear, but Steve…he can’t explain even now how he knew to be cautious in letting anyone in the Party know that they’re friend, this singular lost member of their family had somehow crawled back to the land of the living. Because yeah, it could have been the fact that Eddie was cool to the touch. Paler than he’d been before. Barely had a heartbeat but was definitely alive enough to insist he was pressed into Steve’s heat every night, in Steve’s bed; to keep shaking, to wretch more of the black slime up until it was just dry heaving, and…

There were plenty of reason to have caused the hesitance. But it wasn’t any of that.

It wasn’t even how, after Steve slit himself on an envelope, Eddie had scurried to his side, made to lunge then cowered back, cried like he was in pain before saying the first words Steve had gotten out of him yet:

Please. I’m sorry, I’m sorry Stevie, please—

And Steve wasn’t immune to what spending every fucking night wrapped up in another body. A definitely not unattractive body. A body belonging to a personality that Steve was getting pretty interested in getting to know better—literally and…intimately, y’know, Steve crossed the bridge of being totally shocked by that after he’d less-than-half-mourned Billy fucking Hargrove for the sake of his and and literally no other reason—but. Yeah.

He’d have given Eddie anything, at that points while he was hoarding and harboring him, safe as much as selfish in this house. He’d have—

What Eddie wanted was the blood from his papercut. And…well.

The fangs make…wel, they made a lot more sense all of a sudden.

Eddie fought it when Steve dragged him to the couch and offered his wrist because the guy was sucking kinda pitifully, like, way too desperate on Steve’s fingertip and not in a sexy way—and Steve would actually really like to reach the point of it being a sexy way someday, specifically with Eddie, he’d already stopped trying to deny that to himself—so he pulled his hand away, cupped Eddie’s cheek (warmer, more color in it), brushed by accident against his jugular (a real pulse, and racing, but overtaxed, like it needed…more to work with and yeah, if Steve hadn’t made up his mind already that would’ve done the job, flat out)—and when Eddie whimpered, Steve pushed his advantage of having a full blood supply, dragged Eddie into his lap, tore his own bloody strips from above the veins he could see under the heel of his palm straight down and Eddie gasped, cried out, tried to scramble away—

But Steve shoved his wrist to Eddie’s lips—knew it was maybe dirty pool but…he wasn’t stupid. If Eddie needed blood, he…he needed blood.

And Eddie was reluctant, at first, didn’t try to pull away once he realized that Steve had got him in a pretty solid hold from the waist down, and he just was not strong enough right now, not yet but he could be, if he’d just—

Steve hadn’t been worried, but if there’d been reservations, like, if Robin had had any idea he was doing this and voiced her innumerable concerns: if Steve have been worried, Eddie’s presence of mind to even think to resist, to look at Steve like he was in pain to avoid the blood waiting on offer, specifically for him, it’s all he would need.

But seeing that Steve hadn’t even thought to be worried, he ultimately caught Eddie’s frantic eyes, leaned in and brushed his lips to Eddie’s, tasted his own blood as he whispered:

It’s for you, I want you to have it so that you’re okay, and his hand had braced on Eddie’s chest where that heartbeat was struggling, but wild, and he didn’t even dare to blink until Eddie’s tongue lapped accidental at the blood steaming down.

And the rest is…history.

Eddie had tried to set his own limits, but Steve’s old hat at being the victim of the Upside Down’s bullshit, or Russian spy craft at that; he knows when the blood loss is actually a concern. He keeps his hand to eddie chest, makes his own call when that pulse is strong enough to ease his wrist away.

Steve hadn’t been a fucking lifeguard, after all. He does know some things.

And so that had been…that.

They’d told the others, eventually, but just that Eddie was back. It was enough to prove Steve’s fears in and of itself—they already suspected Vecna, Eddie as a sleeper agent or some shit, two guns trained on him in an instant: and that’s without the blood…thing.

So they keep that to themselves. It’s definitely a contributing factor to how they end up in dire enough straits that Steve’s laid up a little after just some casual bloodsucking until eddies heartbeat finds its strength of rhythm again.

It’s not a big deal. Steve’s had so many migraines worse than this ever is.

Except for when it gets to how Eddie reacts. How he falls apart for fear, for Steve.

That’s the worst pain Steve’s ever known, every goddamn time.

“You were cold,” Eddie’s voice shivers as he raps into Steve’s chest hair; “to me, you were cold to me.”

“You’d just fed, and you were hurting for it,” Steve reasons; it takes Eddie time to warm back up when they spread the feeding out too long. “You’re still not evened-out,” he reasons; Dustin would have a good science-y name for it, but they…they can’t risk it.

Steve won’t fucking risk it. Risk Eddie.

He cranes his neck, keeps his eyes closed to make sure he doesn’t aggravate the feeling of being off-balance, but he needs to press his lips to Eddie’s temple, test the heat.

“Close though,” Steve smiles into the skin, then kisses with intent. He…he loves that he can give this to Eddie. He doesn’t think Eddie gets that part, thinks Eddie only sees it as taking, rather than a gift for Steve in return just as strong.

“Steve,” Eddie moans, shakes his head as more a messy swirl of matted curls; “we can’t.”

Again: it stopped being convincing months ago; but Eddie does sound particularly distressed.

Steve brings a hand to run through that unruly hair, careful. Gentle.

“You weren’t moving,” Eddie finally whispers; “I couldn’t see, I couldn’t hear,” and Steve knows his limits, knows that Eddie didn’t hear or see even with his enhanced senses now because he’d been frantic, and his own heartbeat and shot quick to pounding after being so weak—it always sets him off kilter for a second or two.

Steve cradles Eddie to his chest rig he re, so he can hear clear the heartbeat Steve knows is steady now, strong.

They’ve both evened out. They’re both okay.

“I can’t risk you,” Eddie breathes into the space where the beat hits hardest; “I can’t lose you.”

“So,” Steve nods, tucks Eddie under his chin a little tighter; “losing me by design instead is your solution,” he sucks his teeth, hums as if he’s actually consider such fucking nonsense:

“Yeah, cool, makes sense.”

He thinks the sarcasm drips just the right amount.

“Stevie,” Eddie whines, like it hurts, and Steve never wants that. But he might…need for it to, a little at least, to get the point across.

“We’ve been through this, Eds,” Steve breathes low; “I’m not actually looking to kick the fucking bucket here,” he knows Eddie won’t appreciate the levity but he can’t help it, pressed the curve of his lips to eddies scalp. “I’m much more interested in making sure you’re not ell enough and strong enough and safe enough,” and he reaches, then, to lift Eddie chin, to turn him, to look, to see:

“To stay with me.”

And like clockwork, Eddie’s eyes widen, darken, narrow and Eddie scrambles up, takes Steve’s face in both his open palms:

“Always,” he hisses; “nothing could make me want to be anywhere else, not ever.”

And Steve knows it. Knows he means it

“But Steve—”

And because Steve knows? He’s happy to cut this the fuck off at the stem, nip it in the bud, press a the same fingertip eddies sucked the blood from so many nights ago, that first time that started the rest of Steve’s whole goddamn life—

Steve’s more than happy to press that fingertip to Eddie’s lips, to shut him the fuck yo when he needs it.

“I grew up not knowing what love was,” Steve says simply, and eddies eyes flash red—only when he’s incensed do they do that, and Steve not-so-secretly finds it hot as fuck. “Except for knowing that what I got wasn’t it,” he shrugs; “or else, not the kind it was supposed to be. Benign neglect,” he flinches a little as other, harsher memories buck their heads and he knows he has to say something because Eddie sees him, Eddie will draw it out himself otherwise and…

“Until the times it wasn’t,” Steve murmurs and, well.

At least he gets another sexy-as-fuck flash of crimson in those eyes he adores.

“But I knew what I did have wasn’t right,” Steve’s quick to press on; “so even though I kinda started from zero on the learning curve, it wasn’t,” he bites his lip and it’s not even weird anymore, to revisit the journey even if it started less-than-happily.

Because Steve knows the ending. And how it’s not even an ending at all.

“I knew I was looking for something that sat at the opposite end of the spectrum from what I did know. What I had been taught,” and he grabs for eddies hands and gathers them under his chin to rest on, to just…look his fill of this impossible man he’s fallen for, that he’s more than happily given his life to all the ways he knows how.

“And once I unlearned the bad shit, and started finding the real deal?”

He waits for Eddie’s eyes to glitter just so, waits for his head to tilts just the tiniest bit before he leans up:

“Love is this,” Steve breathes against Eddie’s lips with real fucking meaning:

“Love is exactly this.”

“Nearly fucking dying because your freak-ass boyfriend has to drink your goddamn blood and—” Eddie tries to deflect but is pretty fucking shirt with it. Not least because there are tears running down his cheek. Not least because Steve knows now. What love is.

He’d just spoken on the truth.

“Not even close to fucking dying at all,” Steve reminds him with a playful eye roll and a squeeze of his hand; “save maybe how much it killed me when I thought I’d lost you before we had a chance,” and honestly: Steve hates thinking about how all of this was almost never know, never had, never felt.

Yeah: that fucking kills him, just to think.

“So add that into the love-column,” Steve grins a little, imagining the upgraded version of a ‘YOU RULE’ board; “this is love because you’re breathing,” and Steve kisses the little divot above Eddie’s top lip; “you’re safe,” and then he kisses, nibble Eddie’s neck;“your heart beats when there’s enough blood for it to move around,” and Steve’s not strong enough to resist nipping at the heady pulse between Eddie’s collarbones.

“You’re as alive as anything or anyone in every way that could ever count,” Steve breathes; “you’re here. With me.”

Then he leans back again, looks Eddie in the eyes:

“You care enough—”

“Love.”

Eddie’s tone is this sharp, unquestionable thing. It’s thrilling every time it comes out.

All the more, said around that one word.

“I love,” Eddie’s hands hold closer, more dear at the sides of Steve’s face again; “whether it’s enough or not, whether it ever could be, I fucking love you—”

“Then you love,” Steve picks back up, pecks Eddie’s lips because he can; “enough to check that I’m okay, when we do this, and it’s just a little more of a challenge than normal.”

Eddie looks like he’s about to choke on something.

“Challenge?”

Ah. About to choke on that word specifically; that tracks.

“I like a good challenge,” Steve reminds him, reaches to pinch his cheek, delights in how blood—Steve’s blood—rushes to the surface; “fills the gap from all the sports-playing.”

Eddie’s mouth moves around silent words for a few seconds and then:

“Normal?”

Steve doesn’t even try not to laugh. With glee, even. With wonder.

“Wild, ain’t it,” he asks, kinda fucking joyful; “who’d have ever thought Steve Harrington would find a love this big,” and he runs his hand over Eddie’s arm, shoulder to wrist; “this perfect, for everything he is, not what he’s gotta twist himself in knots to try and become,” and Steve’s voice gets lower, more earnest, more genuinely fucking grateful for…all of it.

For his Eddie.

“Who would have thought Steve Harrington would fall into a love that held his whole fucking heart in its hands,” he brings those hands to his chest, where they clutch automatic; “to do with what you would, to take as far as you liked,” and his voice goes low—they don’t know what’s been done to Eddie beyond the obvious, what life and death mean for him;

“To keep as long as you decided to want.”

Basically, Steve isn’t too concerned about the whats. He’s more concerned about Eddie having no shred of doubt, that Steve wants whatever it means, to be something they share. He wants whatever it means to mean the same for both of them, if it can. However it can.

Whatever it takes.

“Steve,” Eddie shakes his head, face ruddy, tear-strewn and mouth agape.

“I don’t deserve you,” he exhales, then breathes in, sharp and shaking; “and you deserve so much more than this.”

“Let me make the decision,” Steve says, sure in it. Maybe for the first time in his life, he has no doubts for anything involving what he feels for Eddie, and the truth of what Eddie feels for him.

“And since I made that decision fucking months ago already, I’ll save you the suspense,” he turns Eddie’s chin on the tip of a finger, one more time.

“There is no more than this.”

And Eddie blinks; blinks.

And then his strings are cut, and he collapses full into Steve again, this time gathering him in by every limb he can tangle, gasping and grasping and needing and desperate and kissing every inch of Steve he can reach.

“Fuck, I love you baby,” Eddie moans deep from the center in his chest: “forever.”

It’s a true thing. It’s a promise.

It’s an acknowledgement of what they don’t yet know, but can agree with all they are to share, together, equal.

For always.

“I know,” Steve tells him simply, pulse pumping only joy; “and I am always gonna know. I’m always gonna be here, to make sure you never forget.”

And Eddie’s face falls for half-a-second, before it steels with resolve, before his hands lace with Steve’s and smack them flat to Eddie’s heaving chest.

To Eddie’s pounding heart.

“Never forget here,” he vow sir; “it’s never a matter of not loving.”

And Eddie’s scared, still, in his eyes; Steve knows.

It almost means more, that he’s promising it all, nonetheless. With his whole goddamn heart.

“I know,” Steve reminds him the best way he knows; pressing closer, tighter to that beat.

“And I’m always gonna be right here.”

Eddie nods, closes his eyes and holds Steve one breath closer to that pumping blood:

“Right here.”

And that?

And that suits Steve more than fucking fine.

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here

[karinadele]

Hydromorphone

Ratchet x Reader pt: 1

pt: 2

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A/N: I started this some time ago and am STRUGGLING to work on it. But I know someone out there would want to read what there is so far- as messy as it is.

Warnings: Fully revolves around pregnancy! Nothing nsfw here but it was meant to sob. Surrogacy, small mention of past termination, 4th wall breaking lmao

The wave of Nausea, the unsettling need to consistently soothe your chest, –morning sickness.

You know it too well. Having been pregnant when you were young, you've learned to pick up the signs early on.

But this time, it's a welcomed one. A child. One that will be loved by two fathers. Deep down you knew this was going to happen. You've seen the two of them meet, fall in love and be married. Being almost a weird 3rd wheel to them, you've accepted that at some point they probably would have asked you to be a surrogate.

Not that you mind, you love your friends to death, and to be able to give them the joy of a life, is a heartwarming feeling inside you. Best part? Your eggs weren't even used. He ended up using his sister's eggs and his husband's sperm. You were just the chosen surrogate as you've gone through pregnancy before. (Although terminated) The most important part was they trusted you.

Carrying a child is no small feat, and while you can't get paid to be pregnant, it is legal for them to pay for expenses during that time. And honestly? That's enough for you. Feed me, I'll suffer a little bit and give you a bundle of joy. Fuck it. Why not?

What your friends didn't know was that you're friends with a doctor who had no idea– and definitely did not agree with this idea.

Ratchet.

The Cybertronian medic ambulance you've come to know. Fluke of a meeting and next thing you know, you were signing NDAs.

You hadn't told him anything, after all, why would you? It's your body and well. For a lack of better term, quite literally none of his business. It's human business.

Honestly you have no idea how Cybertronian reproduction works either, and highly doubt Ratchet knows human’s version either. Maybe a little if he researched it? But he's been so busy on Team Prime that he's hardly even had anytime to even recharge.

Yet oddly enough, this bot has quickly become the closest to you out of all of the team. Something about both of you loving life, or the fact that the two of you have a desperate need to help. Even when it costs yourself.

In the beginning, physical changes weren’t very noticeable. Yes, there were minor changes, but Ratchet was so deep in his own work he barely paid any attention. 

Or did he?

Tapping away on his console, he may seem focused, –and he is, but also always keeping an audial out for anything on base. After the scraplet incident, he’s learned to be more aware of anything in his vicinity. The taps of your foot as you strolled in, your ever so light exasperated sighs. Even when you shifted on the ragged old couch, and your grunts when the game you’re playing isn’t working out right.

He’s found you compelling. One of the few adults that know of their existence, and you’re the only one that stops by regularly. He knows he gets along well with June as both of their professions align, but it’s something about you that’s more than that. Perhaps it was because you get along so well with the children, always knowing how to pacify them, or more often bailing them out of trouble. Or maybe it was that you had a serene calming presence to him. 

However, lately, he hasn’t been able to feel that aura around you. Day after day he finds himself becoming more agitated and reverting to his old state. Finding your behaviour and movements being out of the ordinary. Yet he can’t put a digit on why it is. You come by the base less and less often, opting to stay home, you’ve often become more lethargic, and he’s found you resting more than you usually do.

For month’s he’s pushed all his thoughts and emotions to the back of his processor, overriding it with more important tasks at hand. But it still nags him. It wasn’t until the other day as you waddled in base that he finally took a good look at you. You’ve gained weight. Oddly it wasn’t evenly distributed, completely all centered around your abdomen. Frowning his optics as he decided he’s had enough.

That afternoon, when he’s finally heard you call for a groundbridge, Ratchet nearly jumped you as soon as you stepped through. It’s been days since you’ve contacted anyone on the base, and weeks since you stopped by. He was going to get to the bottom of this.

Relentingly, you tell him you’re pregnant. Optics widened as he took a step back. “Y-You mean to tell me you’re carrying a sparkling?!” He clambered out. 

You figured this conversation was going to happen at some point, but being forced to explain it right here next to the groundbridge was not part of the plan. Is it even safe to travel by groundbridges?! Telling Ratchet to chill out as you waddle over to the couch to flop on it.

Ratchet’s processors were firing overtime. It was like an overcooked oven on its last legs trying to roast turkey for Thanksgiving last minute. What do you mean you’re about to be a carrier?!  And why is the sparkling around your torso? Wait, does that mean you have a conjunx?! And how does he not know about this?! 

Oh the poor bot’s face. You thought as you sat there looking at him. He's so stunned as if he was Jetfire stuck on ice. “Okay. You probably have a million questions.” You state, waving your hands off.

“Come here Ratchet.” You call out to him.

Holding his servo with both of your hands, you gently guide him to your belly. Placing it on the bump on your stomach as you draw a breath. Both to steady yourself and the baby.

“Do you feel him?” You shakily asked, not even sure if a metal servo would be able to sense delicate touches from the inside of you.

Thankfully, neither of you needed to answer that, as your little gremlin inside you decided this was a perfect moment to do a somersault. Feeling the kick as Ratchet almost instantly pulled away. With your hands still latched onto his, he wasn’t able to get far. You know he won’t harm you or the child, so instead of letting him go, you gripped on and held on steady. As if to tell him you want to share this moment with him. To show him a part of you, and for him to experience it with you.

Part of him wants to pull back, feeling something move inside you from the outside is too foreign. Cybertronian frames don’t move like this, this feels… almost too intimate.

Next

[overnightheartbeats]

Maybe he agreed, maybe he didn't. Laurel was trying to be hopeful and positive at the thought of the ship being smart, but realistically? Not quite. There was a saying somewhere, about doing the same things and expecting different results. But, they were different people now, weren't they? Slightly different maybe? Watching his lips turn upward with the mention of small talk made her cheeks glow just a smidge brighter. Was he thinking of their early days in school, skipping class and getting to know each other in his car. Her inability to be casual with small talk begging them to just jump in with direct questions. Something she was lucky he indulged her in. Come to think of it, a lot of their story ended with some version of luck.

"I didn't really want to ask either," she admitted, leaning against him. And, sure, she was the more outspoken one about their feelings, rarely shying away from those conversations. However, the thought of bringing up the topic, after all she had put them through, terrified her. "I just...I'm not really sure. I guess I didn't want to go to this stupid Dan date if you and I...well, if we were dancing around anything. You know the whole, ruining something before it even begins."

"Agreed," she said with a resigned sigh. He was right. Nothing and everything has changed, it was difficult to not feel futile. "I suppose the real question is, if it's worth trying." For her? Who sucked at giving up, yes it was worth it. He was worth it. Always. The need to feel him against her was bursting at the seams, her smile growing as she felt his warm hands on her cheeks.

Resting on his lap was security and comfort she had missed. Laurel's nerves were still at an all-time high, even thinking of having this conversation, but his arm around her waist was a good sign they were headed in a positive direction. "I'd like that, we probably still have a lot to learn about each other." Beyond their physical attraction which was clearly intact, she couldn't ignore the amount of years that had passed between them. How much they had changed or remained the same. It was the latter that frightened her, how much had remained the same.

"Okay, old man," she teased in between laughs, shaking her head at his comment. She supposed he was not entirely wrong. They were no longer the 'kids'. "Yes though, I do believe they call it dating." For someone who had avoided everything remotely related to dating, Laurel felt her heart thumping against her chest just with his mention of the word. A mix of anticipation and hopefulness at the thought of this becoming a reality for them. Perhaps it wasn't commitment she feared, just commitment with someone who wasn't him. One slow nod to seal the deal, "I'm okay if you're okay. Slow and dating, we can work with that." It wasn't official, but it was more than she ever thought was possible. And, truly she couldn't ask for more. As long as he knew that she was all in. "And, that means I can tell Dan to piss off." Laurel was curious about the case he had mentioned, the robbery that had hit the news. If he was already in the loop, they were probably planning something big to catch them. A taskforce or something of the sort, but now she was just letting her mind run free. "The only bummer is not hearing about that case, he lets me read those files early, just to pick my brain or whatever." She was not curious enough to join dinner with the man. "But, I'm sure I'll read about it eventually. Enough Dan talk though. Look at us being productive during dinner."

A light chuckle left his lips as she commented about the ship being smart. He had the thought that maybe the ship was the exact opposite. Maybe it was stupid and naive for wanting to sail back into the same waters, but he didn't dare voice as much, not wanting to ruin the decent moment they had been able to create. Instead, Pat nodded in agreement at her sentiment.

His lips quirked upward again when she mentioned how she'd never been good at small talk. Pat could still remember one of the first times before she'd actually agreed to go out with him, them skipping class, sitting in his car and she'd turned to him with such confidence and questioned "What are you about Pat O'Morhan?" It had been a slice straight through small talk and he'd loved that about her, even then.

He watched as she took a second drink from her glass, and he followed suit, finishing his and pushing it away slightly, to give his hands something to focus on, though he was grateful when she spoke again, and he couldn't stop the slight chuckle that fell from his lips at the clear surprise in her tone. "Yeah, well, I wasn't gonna ask." he admitted with a sheepish grin. Sure, he'd been an outright criminal, hell, still was, put in very dangerous situations over and over again, but when it came to feelings, and vulnerability, Laurel was the brave one of the two of them.

"It does, doesn't it. Probably because nothing and everything has changed." he answered, because that's exactly how it felt to him all at the same time. the joy in the one questioned word was infectious and a smile spread over his features instantly. Though, he didn't have the opportunity to answer as she was up and closing any distance between them, her hands finding his cheeks and her lips meeting his. Pat pushed his chair back slightly, his hands finding her cheeks as he returned her kiss.

Had she not pulled away, he would've happily pulled her right onto his lap, though even as she started speaking, she didn't move away from him, and his smile grew as the speed of her words increased. "You're good." He nodded as she spoke, and after she trailed off, he took her hand in his and did pull her into a sitting position on his lap, his free arm moving to wrap around her waist, as his other hand released hers in favor of moving to cup her cheek. "We can take it slow if you'd like." he agreed, knowing it probably wasn't the smartest idea to jump right back into whatever they'd had, especially when he was holding what might be considered more secrets now than he had been then. Yet, the pull and attraction and love he felt for Laurel meant he was aching to do exactly that.

A light chuckle left the man as he tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear. "I know I've been out of touch a while, but I think the kids still call it dating." he teased, his smirk returning as he looked up at her. "I uh, I'd be okay with calling it that if you wanted." he offered. That didn't exactly mean they were boyfriend and girlfriend, right? Still sans titles, but at least it was something to ensure they both knew that the other was right there and invested, and god damn it if he wasn't whole heartedly invested.

[kyokutsu-sama]

Can I request a fic where Gyomeis wife is pregnant with twins? I saw how you wrote Sanemi and I just absolutely loved it. Maybe Gyomei could start off being nervous (he hopes the babies dont inherit his blindness so he’s happy y/n is pregnant but nervous at the same time)

I would just love to see how attentive he would treat her even if he’s blind. Like he’s insanely strong so carrying her or coming behind her to gently lift her tummy to ease the tension in her back and off her bladder wouldn’t be a problem. He’d LOVE touching her belly and holding her. I think he’d do so well with twin boys. 🩷🥹

Hi @totallygyomeiswife !

A/n: This Sanemi fic will always be the one I enjoyed writing the most😍 and I also thought about writing one for Gyomei but I ended up starting other projects and I left that one aside but now that you sent the request I decided to write it.

I would give anything to see a man that size holding his tiny baby in his hands. It would be so cute❤️🥹

The first rays of sunlight entered through the crack between the window and the curtain, waking you up. You slowly sat up in bed and when you looked to the side, all you could see were the sheets unfolded and an empty space. Gyomei had probably gotten up before sunrise to go to a quieter place to say his prayers. A habit you were already used to.

You felt nauseous and unwell, it seemed like you were going to vomit. Something you had been feeling for a long time and it wasn't just when you woke up, it was also with certain smells that made you feel like this. The nausea was starting to intensify and that was when you ran to the bathroom to throw up.

When that episode was over, you got up a little shakily and flushed the toilet. Your eyes faced your own reflection in the mirror as you washed your face and pondered what had just happened.

You didn't want to think that there was something wrong with your health, but something else popped into your mind and you widened your eyes at the thought.

"Could it be?" You wondered. "No, maybe it's not that. I mean..." You closed your eyes and sighed

It was very likely that it could be what you were thinking. It was very likely that you could be pregnant.

You then left the bathroom to get dressed and go to the butterfly mansion to clarify this whole situation.

~~~

You entered the bedroom and saw Gyomei sitting on the balcony. You approached him, and even without seeing, he could feel your presence.

"These footsteps sound exactly like those of my lovely wife, am I right?" He asked with a little smile

"Yes, you are." You smiled, sitting next to him, holding one of his huge hands that covered yours

You remained silent for a while, caressing the calloused skin of his hands, the result of his hard training. You were thoughtful and tense, something he could feel.

"Are you okay, my love?" He asked, looking to the side where you were, as if he could see you there.

"Yes, it's just..." You were going to continue the sentence, but you got a little nervous. "I've had something to tell you for a while, but I'm afraid."

"You can tell me, my dear, I'll always be here to listen to you. There's no need to be afraid."

"Gyomei, I went to talk to Shinobu a few days ago and... and I found out something."

"What? You don't have anything serious, do you?" Gyomei felt tears on the verge of falling down his face

"No, it's nothing like that. Mei, I'm pregnant." You finally spoke and it was then that the tears fell down his face

You looked at him and he was crying, his hand intertwined with yours on your lap as he cried, making you cry too. You thought he was sad about the news, but he soon proved otherwise.

"I didn't know how you would react. I didn't want to tell you because I was scared and anxious." You whimpered with a few sniffles

"My love, I'm just so moved. You're carrying something so precious and so innocent inside your womb, something that belongs to both of us and that I will protect no matter what." He answered, making your heart feel lighter at that moment.

"Oh, my love." You moved to his lap, hugging him just to feel his strong arms around you, giving you the great feeling of protection that you loved to feel

~~~

He decided to talk to the master Ubuyashiki after finding out he was going to be a father so that he could have the opportunity to spend more time with you, not going on as many missions as before. Unless it was an emergency that he really had to be called in for.

The master not only congratulated him but also agreed, which made tears of gratitude fall.

When his hands felt your belly start to grow, he made a point of carrying you everywhere in the house. You only got out of his arms when you sat at the table or when he laid you down.

When you had insecurities about looking heavier, he assured you that you were still perfect and that there was nothing that his strong arms couldn't carry.

"My love, I may be blind but I'm still sure that you're still beautiful." He said and you cried

Those months also made you more sensitive and now he wasn't the only one who cried over everything.

He loved the afternoons you two spent together cuddling and when he could run his hand over your round, soft belly.

"What do you think it is, love?" You asked, placing your hand over his. "A boy or a girl?"

"Maybe a girl with a beautiful, cheerful voice like her mother, or a strong boy like me." He smiled and you wiped his tears with your thumb, caressing his cheeks."I just hope they come out with good health and that they in no way inherit my blindness. I prayed hard that they would have the blessing of being able to see when they were born."

"Everything will be fine, my love. Whatever it is, they will come healthy and with good eyes so that they can see not only me but also the wonderful and loving father that you are." You smiled at him, holding his face with both hands. "I love you." You placed a kiss on his lips and he wrapped you in a tight hug

"Me too, my dear."

~~~

"The master asked that all the hashiras gather in the meeting room tonight. I wanted to stay here with you, but I don't think I can. I'm sorry." Gyomei said, lowering his gaze a little, but you comforted him by holding his hands

"It's okay, baby. I'll be fine, don't worry."

"I know, but even so... It's already night and those creatures are out there. I'm afraid the same thing will happen that happened that night when I lost all those people in the temple."He said

He didn't want to lose his wife and child in the same night. He couldn't bear to live through a night like that again.

"Gyomei, I promise. I'll be fine and no one will hurt me. Do you trust me?"

"Alright, then. I'll go, even if I'm a little nervous, but everything will be fine." He gave an optimistic smile

"Come here, my big boy." You raised your arms, trying to embrace his broad frame that towered over yours. He was as big as his heart. A true gentle giant.

~~~

It had been some time since he had left and you now found yourself sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard while holding the Buddhist rosary he had left with you as a protection. The same rosary he always carried in his hands during prayers in which he asked for protection over you and your womb and also for strength for him so he could protect his family.

You looked at the rosary beads and all you could think about was your husband's face. He prayed each one patiently and full of faith.

A strong contraction appeared and you held your belly with a groan of pain. You thought it had been just another random kick from the baby, but seeing how the pain only intensified, you realized that it was not just another kick, but the birth of your baby.

You began to cry in pain and clutched his rosary tightly, hoping that he would come home soon to help you.

"And that's it for today, my children, the meeting is over." Master Ubuyashiki declared and the hashiras bowed before leaving

Gyomei stood up but the master held his hand, which made him stop and sit down again.

"Oyakata-sama? Is everything okay?" The hashira asked

"I just wanted to wish you good luck with the birth of your children. They are twins." The master said, shocking Gyomei

"How... How did you know?"

"I had a vision a night after you told me. I also scheduled this meeting so I could tell you this. You must take care of Y/n, she needs you. I believe you will be a good father. I trust you, Gyomei Himejima." The master said with a proud smile and the hashira was soon moved

"Thank you, oyakata-sama!" He knelt and bowed in respect. "I will pray for your health."

"Thank you."

When he got home, Gyomei heard screams coming from the bedroom and immediately thought the worst. He followed the sound of the screams of pain and reached the bedroom where you were crying.

"Y/N!? What's going on?" He asked, approaching the bed

"Gyomei... Help me...it's now." Your words came out between sobs and moans of pain, unable to form a plausible sentence, but he soon realized what it was about

"I'm going to take you to the butterfly mansion. Let's go." He carried your body in his arms and left the house

The entire butterfly mansion was shocked when they saw the stone hashira come running in with you in his arms.

It was a difficult time, with a lot of pain, crying, and emotion. Gyomei didn't let go of your hand for a single moment. Bringing two boys into the world caused you a lot of pain and he could feel it in the way you held his hand tightly.

The master was right, they were twin boys and according to Shinobu, both were in good health. He felt great relief in his heart for them, but those tears he was shedding were not only from emotion for the birth of the boys but also from pity for you for having gone through all that.

You slowly turned your head to the side to see your husband crying and holding your hand. He was your greatest support throughout that special moment and his affection and care made you love him even more.

"Honey, it's okay." You spoke softly, without strength, but he raised his head enough for you to bring your fingers to his face and wipe his tears as you always did, even when he cried over small things."I'm a little weak but... I did my best to bring our boys into this world. After all, they were two little boys... they will be strong like their father." You smiled and he smiled back

"Thank you for being so strong during all this time, I will do my best for you and for them." Gyomei said, leaning in and kissing you

His kisses were always slow and very soft, coming with a lot of love and affection.

"I love you." You whispered against his lips

Shinobu entered the room with the newborns in her arms and blush when she saw you two so close.

"Am I interrupting something?" She giggled

"Oh, no, it's okay." You stated, feeling your cheeks turning red

"I just came to give you what's yours. Your cute little boys." She said, handing the boys into your arms

"My beautiful boys." You said, tears of joy fall as you picked up the little ones. "I love you two."

"Y/n, can I hold them?" Gyomei asked

"Of course you can." You handed them to him and he held them as if they were made of glass

That man's hands were strong enough to destroy a demon, but at that moment they felt like velvet, holding something as innocent as a baby.

He cried so much because his blindness couldn't allow him to see their faces, but at the same time, the feeling of having them in his hands made his heart explode with joy.

"I can't see them but I can tell they are two wonderful blessings." He said and you smiled at how tiny they looked in his hands.

"They'll be as proud of you as I am, Gyomei." You said, kissing his forehead where his scar was. "You'll be a good father."

"And you'll be a wonderful mother."

[jschlattgirly]

I'll Be Here (Part 2)

Parts: One, Two (This One),

Content Warning: Emetophobia, Blood, Hosptials, talk of disease and illness.

Word Count: 1,719

Description: The pain continues mysteriously, and you and Schlatt end up back at the hospital, only this time, things don't look so good for you.

WARNING: There will be a description of puking in this chapter, not in vivid detail but it is mentioned.

Schlatt sat quietly working in his home office, checking to make sure his upload schedule was on track and double-checking videos that his team was editing through his multiple channels. You were still in quite of bit of pain since leaving the Emergency Room the day before and were kind of just waddling around the apartment cloaked in a blanket while Jambo and [REDACTED] followed you around. You slipped into Schlatt's office quietly, the slight sound making him glance over his shoulder at your mildly disheveled appearance. 

"Hey, Hun" He spoke quietly, stretching his spine a bit and turning fully towards you, "How are you feeling?"

"Not good," you mumbled, shuffling to him and cuddling into his side the best you could without climbing into his lap. 

"Did you take some pain meds?" He asked softly into your shoulder as he held you.

You nodded before speaking, "Yeah, but it's not helping" 

Schlatt hummed quietly before replying, "Well, maybe take the high-strength ones and see how you feel after that. Did you at least eat something?"

Your appetite had essentially disappeared so Schlatt had been watching you like a hawk almost to make sure you were taking care of yourself. You nodded at his question and shuffled out of his office mumbling as you left, "I'm gonna go lay down and take those other meds" 

He nodded, "Call me if you need anything, Toots"

You smiled at the nickname and agreed before retreating to your bedroom. You looked through the bottles you had gotten from the pharmacy finding the extra strength painkillers and taking one before laying down on the soft comforter of the bed, Jambo hopping up next to you and cuddling into your side, as if feeling your pain and trying to soothe you. 

A little over an hour later you found yourself sweating, curled up on your side still on the bed, crying quietly in severe pain, worse than the day before. The pain was so bad that you felt your body begin to shake, and the nausea was terrible. You blindly felt around for your phone that you had tossed somewhere on the bed earlier and almost sighed in relief when the cool glass screen touched your hand. You immediately pulled up Schlatt's contact and texted him even though he was just in the other room. 

Me: Can you come here, please?

Without even getting a response, you heard the unmistakable sound of his office door quickly opening and shutting and Schlatt's footsteps as he came into the bedroom. He immediately softened upon seeing you in such a state. 

"Honey, what's wrong?" He asked softly. 

"C-can you feel my forehead? I think I have a fever" You mumbled not answering his question. 

He nodded and pulled up the sleeve on his left arm resting the back of his hand on your forehead and frowning softly, " Well you don't feel warm but you don't look like you're feeling well. Did you take those pain meds?"

You nodded, "Like an hour ago, the pain has gotten so much worse though!"

"Do you think we need to go back to the ER? I know you hate going to the hospital..." He asked sitting next to you on the bed.

You nod again and speak quietly, "Yeah, they said if it gets worse or the pain can't be managed with the meds then I should go back"

Schlatt nodded in understanding, "Alright I'll go get your bag, just try and move slowly okay? I don't want you to worsen the pain as much as you can" he kissed your temple before moving around the room and grabbing your keys, wallet and some things of his own just in case. You managed to roll out of the bed, still crying in pain as you went. Schlatt gathered his and your things and offered his arm as he helped you out of the apartment and into the car. You both got in and headed back to the hospital.

As he drove your nauseousness became worse and worse and you spoke up quickly, "Jay, please pull over"

Schlatt quickly turned on his hazards and pulled the car over, you quickly took off your seatbelt and rolled out of the car feeling the intense need to empty your stomach but it luckily didn't come. You climbed back into the car and Schlatt checked with you to make sure you were okay before continuing the uncomfortable drive to the hospital. 

Soon enough you found yourself back in the ER, this time shaking violently due to the pain, and feeling faint. Schlatt even mentioned to you that you looked sickly pale when you walked into the front area. As you sat at the reception desk, you explained quickly that you were just there the day before and they found a kidney stone and that your pain was worse. As you got checked in you made sure to ask for a puke bag and found a spot to sit and wait to get seen by triage. 

"Jay," you mumbled blinky rapidly, "I think I'm gonna pass out"

Schlatt immediately rushed to the front desk and a nurse rushed to grab you a wheelchair to sit in just in case you did pass out. Triage called for you and the nurse helped wheel you into the small office you had just been in not even a full 24 hours before. Schlatt answered the triage nurse as best as he could as you slowly felt yourself almost falling unconscious. In and out of delirium from pain and nausea, you slightly remembered your blood being taken for testing and Schlatt wheeling you back into the waiting area.

"Wanna try and lay down, Honey?" he asked you softly, parking the wheelchair by a couch in the waiting area, you nodded and he helped you up from the chair and onto the couch. Minutes passed by oddly for you in this state and soon enough a nurse was calling you back to get a room. 

As Schlatt wheeled you behind the nurse guiding you to your room, the feeling of being sick finally became too much and you began to violently empty your stomach into the bag in your hands. Schlatt hurriedly got you into your assigned room and soothingly rubbed your back as you repeatedly puked. Once you were done, he and the nurse helped you onto the hospital bed. The nurse explained that you'd have to change into a hospital gown and Schlatt without even needing to be asked immediately assisted with taking off his hoodie from you as well as your shirt helping tie the hospital gown around you and helping you settle into the bed. After you had gotten dressed the nurse had come back in and got your IV in and set up and you were immediately given some heavy pain meds and anti-nausea medications. 

Just like the day before you need to give a urine sample, and once your nauseousness settled you were able to do so. The doctor you were seeing was different from the day before so you once again had to explain that they had found a kidney stone the day before and that the pain had worsened and the nausea was worse as well. Although the doctor tried to explain this away as being normal with kidney stones, Schlatt refused that and told the doctor that this was worse than the day before and asked that they at least check. Luckily, the doctor agreed with him and ordered you to get another CT scan to check everything. 

The ordeal started once again, waiting for a nurse to take you to get a CT Scan, getting the scan done, and waiting for the results of everything. Luckily, Schlatt was able to still be in a good mood and tried to keep happy through the whole deal. You turned on the TV in our room and were pleasantly surprised to see that the Grammys were on, which you loved watching, Schlatt tolerated fit of your sake. You excitedly sang along with Sabrina Carpenter while she performed and if you noticed Schlatt quietly singing along, no you did not. You cheered when your favorite singers won awards or complained that they were robbed when they lost. Schlatt would point out celebrities doing weird things in the background, or when Taylor Swift was dancing to Kendrick Lamar. 

Eventually, the doctor came back and she did not look too pleased with the results of all your tests. Without waiting she immediately dived in, "So, with your blood and urine tests we were able to determine that you most likely have an infection, which explains the nausea. As for the pain, the CT scan shows that your stone hasn't moved. Usually with a stone that small we would just wait for it to move and yeah it definitely would hurt,"

You nodded along assuming that they would just give your more intense pain medications and be sent home, but the doctor continued, "So, we think it would be best to do a cystoscopy and remove that stone"

Your eyes widen, you had never had surgery before, let alone be hospitalized overnight. You looked at Schlatt, tears already coming up, he immediately grabbed your hand and went into serious mode, "So, are they going to have to stay overnight?"

The doctor nodded empathetically, "Yes. But, the surgery is pretty quick, they'll use a robot-like device and extract the stone and get it tested to see what caused it. But you'll be asleep during it. We can get it done tomorrow morning and then you won't have to worry about it after!"

You couldn't help the tears falling from the fear of the unknown but you nodded, "Okay..."

"You'll be in good hands, you'll have a nurse assigned to you all night and we'll move you to an in-patient room. We'll give you medication as you need it" 

Schlatt kissed your temple and spoke quietly, "You'll be okay, Honey, and I will come and see you as much as I can"

You agreed quietly and before you know it you were being carted off in a wheelchair with Schlatt following quietly behind you to the elevator to be put into in-patient care.

It was going to be a long night. 

[reds-skull]

The Dollhouse

[AO3]

(note: TW for hallucinations, general dissuasion of past domestic abuse and mental illnesses, and mild gore. Happy/bittersweet ending as always. If I miss any warnings, you're welcome to let me know!)

Made myself cry with this one twice so I'm sure it's gonna hurt lol

Since people seemed to like it last time, I'll be writing my thoughts in the comments on AO3 right after I post everything, which you're welcome to read!

Joseph has a dollhouse. The thing was bloody expensive, or so Tommy told him, but Beth practically begged him to buy it, along with her son. She said she always wanted one as a kid, and Tommy couldn’t say no.

Simon played with him a little bit, always taking the role of the mom. He refused to be the dad. It hasn’t been long enough for him to hear that title without bile filling his mouth.

He was cleaning up after another playing session, his nephew running off to greet his parents at the door. Simon avoids looking too hard at his scarred, gnarly hands, instead focusing on the dolls.

The set has 4; a mom, a dad, and two siblings. He shoves each of them into the little rooms, along with the tiny furniture, when something gives him a pause.

There are dolls in the house that he doesn’t recognize. He didn’t know Tommy bought more.

Simon leans in closer, brows furrowing. There are four of them, one laying face-down on a red carpet, the others surrounding it.

The dolls are… odd. They’re wearing tactical gear, the one on the carpet completely covered in black. One of them has a bucket hat, the other a baseball cap, and the third what looks like a tiny warhawk.

Simon stares at the fourth one. Something about the red carpet it is laying on reminds him of blood more than anything, and a sharp feeling echos through his chest. An odd beating, a knife tearing through his organs, a cruel hook at his side.

He reaches to turn the little doll, when Beth yells, “Simon! Lunch is ready, where are you?!”

Simon turns away to call back, “cleaning up, be there in a minute!” he sighs, returning to the dollhouse.

… The dolls are gone.

Things have been… weird since coming back. Maybe it was foolish to think he could leave everything that happened in Mexico behind him.

As if his mind couldn’t function without an enemy, it turned against Simon. Hallucinations weren’t uncommon for him, things appearing and disappearing, minutes lost staring at a wall. Voices, echos of pain.

Some days he locks himself in his room, laughter bubbling up along with tears, both unstoppable. Tommy broke down the door the first time, chest heaving like he was expecting a fight. It surprised him, in hindsight. That his brother cares.

It got better, and it didn’t. Simon sighs, smoke billowing from his mouth. The scars crossing his lips tingle uncomfortably, still sensitive to changes in temperature.

He can feel mum staring at him, as he sits on the back porch, smoking. She has a hard time hiding her worry, they all do, really. It makes him feel all the more pathetic.

Simon huffs. He can almost hear his therapist chiding him for those thoughts.

He takes one more breath of smoke before stamping out the cigarette. Sitting around feeling bad about himself never solved anything, wallowing in emotions bigger than his shriveled heart can process did nothing to change them. Simon gets up, wiping the dirt off his jeans, and means to step back inside, when he gets knocked down to his knees.

The chair next to him falls, flimsy wood splintering, the hanging plants above him swaying violently.

The ground is shaking.

His brain takes precious seconds to remember that you’re not supposed to be inside in an earthquake, and his body wastes several more trying to get enough balance to rush back inside.

“TOMMY! BETH! GET JOSEPH AND MUM OUTSIDE, THERE’S A BLOODY-” Simon shouts, slipping around a corner where he slides to a stop.

His brother is staring at him, confused, hand frozen midair as he was about to remove his coat. Beth and mum look equally bewildered, and Joseph’s expression is just enough scared that he is shocked back to reality.

“I’m…” Simon swallows thickly, “I’m sorry.”

Tommy sighs and opens his mouth to speak, but…

… But the voice that comes out isn’t his, “don’t you fuckin’ apologize to me, you bastard!”

“You don’t get to say that, not now!” Joseph says, in a voice of a fully-grown man.

Simon takes a step back. It’s not back to normal yet- his mind is still fucking with him. He needs- he needs to-

His legs take him to his room, running up the stairs, ignoring the calls of his name behind him. They’re wrong, their voices are not theirs, he’s still not back.

The door threatens to splinter as he slams it shut, his breaths wheezing up his chest, sounding almost like a laugh if he wasn’t on the verge of tears.

Simon slides down to his knees, forehead pressed to the cool door. Eyes shut, ears covered. He can’t trust them anyway.

Desperate, he begins doing the exercise his therapist taught him.

“Roba is not here.” he says in his mind, “Roba is not here.” he repeats until he truly believes it.

“I am safe,” is repeated after that.

“I am home.”

“None of it was real.”

The room is dark by the time Simon finds the courage to open his eyes. He uncurls from the floor, muscles creaking in protest.

Mum is waiting on the other side of the door when he finally exits his room. Her eyes scan him, and a relieved breath visibly escapes her when she finds no injuries.

“How are you feeling, luv?” she asks, carefully, but Simon can’t detect any fear in her voice.

He ducks his head to avoid her eyes all the same, “fine. Sorry about- sorry.”

“No need to apologize. It’s… it’s been a while since it happened, right? At least there’s progress.” she tries to cheer him up, like always.

She used to do the same, after dad blew up on them for acting their age, for having the gal to be a child. It made him simmer with barely-concealed anger. How could she try to be positive all the time, when everything was clearly fuckin’ not fine.

Simon recognized it for what it was when he left home for bootcamp. Recognized she was doing her best. That maybe if she could find the good in everything, the bad will be easier.

Bitterly, he thinks that’s why she chose to marry a man like Simon’s father in the first place.

“... Yeah.” he says, because he doesn’t want to scare her any more than he already did. She gives him a gentle smile, and a softer caress to the shoulder.

“Oh, what are we doing chatting around here, you must be starving! Come, we are about to eat dinner, I made pie!”

Simon lets his mum lead him downstairs, where the table is already set. Joseph visibly lights up when their eyes meet, and it makes something in his heart melt.

“Uncle Si!” he says with a full mouth, “Nana made your favorite pie!” Joseph lifts the pie dish to show him, or attempts to, as Beth has to help him.

Simon smiles, “how’s the taste, Joey?”

“The best!” his nephew grins back.

He takes a sit beside him, the plate in front of him already laden with food. Tommy gives him a look, silently asking if he’s alright.

Simon nods. They both know he isn’t, but as long as he can hold it together for now, he’s alright.

They’re used to sweeping things under the rug, after all.

Simon called it a day early, the “attack” draining him. It’s fucking annoying, that things that aren’t even real make him so tired.

He wonders for how long will Roba’s hands and knives and tools will haunt him. If his mind will ever stop playing tricks on him. 

As tired as he is, he can’t find enough peace within himself to fall asleep. He turns for the millionth time, before sighing and getting up.

Ever since he returned, Simon can’t sleep in complete darkness. Childish as it sounds, the moment the lights go out he can feel scorpions crawling up his limbs, phantom stings keeping him tense under plush bedding.

The street lights are often enough to illuminate the room, the curtains never drawn shut. Simon walks over to the window, opening it to inhale the crisp, cold night air.

His fingers itch for a cigarette, but mum would kill him if he stunk up the house with them. He knows what the smell reminds her off, and he tried quitting, but…

The view outside his window is blurry, almost fogged over, likely from his lack of sleep. He inhales again, deeply, if only to feel the slight bite of chill in his lungs, if only to replace the dirt and rot that hasn’t left his veins since he came back.

Wind blows over the silent neighborhood, the curtains fluttering around him. Simon shivers, his scars tingling. He huffs as he thinks of how his mum would probably tell him to close the windows, lest he get a cold, if she was here.

As if he didn’t spend months in a cold basement, wearing rags.

It’s… odd. To be cared for. Not that she didn’t care for them before, it just never really felt like this when it was undone the moment his father returned home from his job.

Violent gusts knock over something behind him, but Simon is lost in thought, memories of his dad and mum and Roba mixing, whirling. The wind picks up, beating against the trees outside, against the open window, thudding, thumping, hammering against his chest-

A knock on his door makes him refocus on reality. “Simon?” Tommy asks through the thin plywood, “you alright?”

Simon frowns. Why is Tommy still awake in the middle of the night? He steps away from the window to open the door, “m’fine. Something happen?”

Tommy looks over his shoulder, “the wind…”

“What about it?”

“I thought-” Tommy cuts himself off, “never mind. Goodnight.”

“... Goodnight?” Simon responds, his brother already halfway back to his and Beth’s bedroom.

The confusion is enough to distract him from the fact the wind stopped the moment Tommy showed up.

Simon doesn’t go out much. Or at all. His day consists of helping his mum around the house, working out in the backyard, and trying not to lose his fucking mind every time something reminds him of Mexico.

Mum is having her afternoon nap now, leaving him alone in the living room. His hands beg for something to do, and his first thought jumps to the hours and hours he spent cleaning guns and knives back on base. It used to relax him like nothing else did, the monotony quieting his mind.

He didn’t hold a rifle for months now. Doesn’t even know if he’ll ever return to the service.

Simon decides to get up and scrub the kitchen sink, hoping it would be similar enough, when the landline phone rings. He rushes to answer before the shrill noise can bother his mum, and says, “Riley’s.”

He hears only static for a few seconds, “‘ello?”

“... Please…” a single word comes through, “Don’t leave…”

“Who is this?” Simon asks more firmly, chills running down his spine as he hears sobbing.

“C’mon, Simon… stay with me…” the voice begs.

“Who are you? What the fuck are you talking abou-”

The call disconnects. Simon slams the phone down, exhaling roughly. He’d chuck it to a prank call, if whoever it was didn’t say his name. They sounded… desperate. In a way that a soldier is, surrounded by the bodies of his brothers-in-arms.

It could’ve been another trick of his mind. He heard plenty of soldiers beg like that right before getting shot in the head. His memories don’t lack in suffering and desperation, that’s for fucking certain.

Simon walks to the kitchen, picks up a sponge, and begins scrubbing at the counter. Movements robotic, he ignores the voice in his mind that says he’s missing something important.

A figment of his imagination. That is all it was.

“What’s this one called, Joey?”

“A tri- trisera-” Joseph struggles to say the name.

Beth snorts from the couch, “triceratops?”

“Yes!” his nephew smiles, putting the little toy dinosaur in Simon’s hand, “it eats grass!”

“That so?” Simon turns the toy in his hands, small horns digging into his palms.

Joseph continues, “yeah! I tried to eat it as well, but mum said I can’t.” he leans closer to Simon, whispering, “I did eat some later, but it was really gross.”

Simon and Beth’s eyes meet, her exasperated expression telling him she heard everything, “let’s leave the grass to the triceratops, hm?” he tells him.

“Okay!” Joseph agrees immediately, much to Beth’s relief. His nephew goes back to his imaginary battlefield, where the triceratops is a commander of a troop of velociraptors. Simon gives up on trying to understand who is winning, and sits down beside Beth.

“He really admires you, you know?” Beth speaks after a few moments of silence. Simon turns to her with furrowed brows. She smiles, “would always ask what were you doing when you were away. When we got the news that-” 

“That I died.” he continues for her, hating the pity in her tone. He doesn’t deserve it, doesn’t want them to be so careful around him.

She sighs, “that you died. I couldn’t tell him. I told him you were… lost. A day later I find him trying to sneak out of the house, to search for you.” tears gather at Beth’s lash line, and she turns to wipe them away. Simon notices, even if she tries to hide it.

“I’m here now. Won’t let him run off to search for any lost soldiers again,” he assures her, and she smirks.

“Always one to take things with the utmost seriousness, Simon. Sometimes I wonder if it was the military, or you were just born like that. Your mum and Tommy sure aren’t like that.”

She doesn’t mention his father, but he supposes it was obvious it didn’t come from him either. Simon was always serious, emotions locked deep in his chest. When your old man slaps you for every overly loud noise, whether it be a laugh or a cry, you learn to suppress.

Maybe, in a way, it did come from his rotten dad.

“Tommy cries too easily. Fuckin’ sobbed like a baby on Joey’s first birthday.”

“Language!” Beth slaps his arm lightly, “of course he would, it’s his first son! You’d understand if you had kids.”

Fucking unlikely. No way he becomes a father, the world doesn’t need any more of him. Any of those kids wouldn’t be as good as Joseph is, anyway.

“When’s he coming back? Joey must be hungry by now.” Simon looks to the front door, once again glad their house has an open floor plan.

Beth checks the clock on the wall, “he’ll be here any minute now. Joseph love, are you hungry?”

Joseph looks up from his triceratops, who has just run over an enemy T. rex, “a little. Can I have a treat?”

“Not before lunch, you know the rules.” Beth reprimands him lightly. She turns back to Simon, “let me see if your mum needs any help…” she leaves for the kitchen.

“How’s the battle going?” Simon asks as Joseph lets a chunky, colorful helicopter land in front of a fallen velociraptor.

His nephew shoves the dinosaur into the helo, “we’re taking him to the hospital! The T. rex took a bite out of his leg, so he needs a new one.” he explains, making a whooshing sound as the helo takes off.

Simon leans closer, his lips tugging upwards, “and where’s the hospital?”

“Uh…” Joey stops the helo midair, “on the dining table!” he runs off to it, the poor velociraptor rattling inside the helo.

Simon gets up to follow, when the front door opens. Tommy locks eyes with him, “sorry I was late, some idiot tried to move the photocopier up the stairs… unsuccessfully.”

“How horrible… I’d rather go back to Mexico than deal with that.” Simon mutters, and his brother barks a surprised laugh.

“Bloody ‘ell, don’t let mum hear you.” he takes off his coat, hanging it on the hooks next to the door, “or the psychiatrist, for that matter.”

“They would tell me, ‘humor is a perfectly fine coping mechanism’, or some shite.” Simon grumbles.

They both join Joseph at the table, as mum and Beth set plates down. The makeshift hospital (nothing more than a few napkins folded to look like beds) has to be moved, much to Joseph dismay, but Tommy promises him the velociraptor will understand.

As everyone settles in, Simon can’t help but think of a similar scene, 20 or so years ago. Back then, there wasn’t laughter, smiles, a warm aroma in the room. No, there was only the cold stare of a man playing a false God with his own family, bitter eyes striking fear in his heart whenever they met his.

It’s moments like these, where Simon thinks things will be alright after all.

“-And then, Sam dropped the photocopier down three flights of stairs, his face pale as a sheet.” Tommy says between child-like giggles, his wife and mum laughing along. Joseph looks intrigued but confused, opting to focus on his meal, humming a little tune between bites.

“I told him, ‘mate, if I were you I’d run before the big boss comes around,’ as a joke! But the bloke bucks it outta the building like someone set fire under his ars- butt.”

Mum laughs quietly, “oh, love, the poor intern probably had his life flashing before his eyes-”

Everything falls silent. The hum of electricity, the clock in the living room, the birds outside. Joseph’s tune, his mum’s laughter, Tommy’s cheery voice, Beth’s fond sighs.

They all click their mouths shut. Simon lowers his fork slowly, his heartbeat picking up.

“...what-”

They turn to stare at him, their gazes lowering to his chest, unnervingly synchronized. Simon looks down, and his fork clangs loudly as he drops it to the floor.

Red blooms across his chest, liquid turning his dark shirt shiny. He clutches at his front, panic rising within him, when he realizes it can’t be real - he feels no pain.

But- “you’re… you’re seeing it too?” Simon’s hand twists into the sodden fabric, “but it’s- it’s not-” dark tendrils creep from the edges of his vision, lightheaded as if he’s really loosing blood, chest shaking with loud beats-

“See what, uncle Si?” Joseph asks innocently. Simon’s eyes focus back on his family.

They all look normal. A bit confused and worried, but none of them are looking at the supposed wound blooming across his chest.

Simon raises his palm from his shirt, hand shaking as he scans it.

His pale, scarred skin is completely devoid of blood.

Mirrors became another enemy of his, after he came back. Ignoring the effects of what happened would’ve been easier if there wasn’t tangible proof Simon was irrevocably changed by Roba. It’s not usually a problem to avoid them, as the one in the bathroom on the first floor was removed (after several… incidents).

But the ground floor still had one. And Simon is staring at it right now.

He ran off after what happened at the dining table, heart beating so hard he worried it’ll stop. He tries to keep his eyes below his neck, checking his shirt again and again, searching for blood that never existed.

It didn’t, but something did. His family saw it, Simon is sure of it. They never reacted to his hallucinations like that before, even when he saw fire burning the house down, earthquake shaking the ground, he was always met with confused looks that ignore the surrounding chaos.

His fingers ache with how tightly he’s grasping at the sink, at his chest. Uncertainty twists his gut, the intrusive thought that none of this is real burrowing into his mind.

What if he never escaped Roba? What if this is nothing but a drugged-induced nightmare? Maybe he’s in that fucking grave right now, maggots eating at his barely-alive flash, the bones of his traitorous commander cradling his broken body?

Simon can’t do this again. He can’t, he can’t, he-

Someone knocks on the door, “Uncle Si?” Joseph asks, voice wobbly. It startles something in him.

The lock clicks loudly as he unlocks the bathroom door, and Simon instantly crouches down to face the teary eyes of his nephew, “what’s wrong, Joey?”

Joseph’s lip trembles, and he wraps his small arms around him, “I don’t want you to leave again, Uncle Si.”

Simon hugs him gently, careful as to not hurt him. “I’m… I’m not going anywhere?” he answers, unsure of what Joseph could be talking about.

“Nana said it will be time soon.”

“Time for what? Joseph, what’s going on-”

His nephew shrieks as a loud crashing sound echos in the bathroom. Simon grips him tighter, shielding him as something hits his back. He turns around, adrenaline pumping in his veins, ready to protect his nephew when he sees what caused it.

The mirror broke. Cracks spreading from a single point as if a phantom hand punched it, blood seeping into the crevices left behind.

Simon looks down at Joseph, “you saw that too, right? And the- before, when we were eating.”

Tears run down his nephew’s cheeks, Simon wiping them slowly. “Joey. I need you to answer me.”

Joseph breaks down, whispering, “don’t tell mum and dad, Si.” he shoves a few small objects into Simon’s hand, his little fingers twisting into his.

Simon opens his mouth to ask him for more details, anything, when Tommy and Beth rush towards them, “we heard a scream- Joey, love, why are you crying?” Beth scoops up her son. Joseph’s gift, four little dolls by the feel of it, stays hidden in the pocket of his sweatpants. 

Tommy crouches down beside him, ignoring the crunch of glass under his slippers, “you alright?”

Simon’s eyes flicker from the broken mirror to his brother’s eyes, “fine. Sorry for upsetting Joey, think he’s… worried.” he rises to his feet, “I… I’m going to be at the back. Tell mum I’m sorry for lunch.”

He doesn’t wait to hear Tommy’s answer, hurrying to the back door. Once it’s closed behind him, Simon takes a deep breath, and pulls out the dolls Joseph gave him.

It’s the little soldiers he saw before. The ones that… disappeared…

Simon turns each of them in his hands, trying to figure out why Joey thought this would help him understand what’s going on.

They all have the Union Jack on their gear, which looks similar to what he wore when he was still in service. It’s the fourth one that interests him most, the one that was face-down in the dollhouse.

What he wasn’t able to see before, is the skull mask covering its face. With shaky fingers, Simon checks if the balaclava the mask is stitched to is removable. The tiny piece of fabric shifts under his fingertips, and he pulls it up.

His breath catches in his lungs. The doll is an almost exact replica of Simon.

Where did Joseph find these? And more importantly, if this one looks like him, does it mean the other three are also of real people?

Simon stares at their faces, trying to think back to before Mexico. Those memories have been muddied by months of torture, faces redacted in his mind long ago, but no matter how much he tries to think, he can’t remember meeting anyone that looks like them.

He shoves the dolls back into his pocket, scrubbing a hand over his weary eyes. Simon gazes upwards, the English grey sky looking whiter and whiter the more he stares. He’s unsettled, bones misplaced inside his body. It all feels deeply wrong.

One thing is certain, now. Joseph saw his ‘hallucinations’, which means the rest of his family is lying to him about them.

The house was quiet when Simon eventually returned inside. He finds his family still at the dining table, though they’re not quite as happy as they were before. In the few moments before any of them noticed his reappearance, Simon watches how Tommy and Beth seem on the edge of tears, their hands clutched tightly between their plates.

A mask seems to slip back on their faces when they see him standing in the doorway, “Simon.” Tommy says, alerting Joseph and mum. Simon doesn’t reply.

He takes his previous seat next to Joseph, the young boy staring at him, “alright, Joey?” he asks.

Joseph blinks, biting his lip as if he mulls it over. The longer he doesn’t respond, the deeper a knife twists in Simon’s gut.

“I’m not going anywhere, understand? Not anymore.” he tried to cheer him. From the outside, it may seem they’re talking about him leaving the table, but he’s sure Joseph understands he doesn’t mean that.

His nephew nods, picking up his spoon again, scooping a bit of his food and eating. He doesn’t seem convinced.

“You should eat, love.” his mum says quietly, almost meekly, as if she’s… afraid of his reaction.

They know he knows, or at least suspects, that they’re lying. That they’ve been hiding something from him, something big, making him think he’s losing his bloody mind again.

Simon stares at her. His mum always had a way to tell what he’s thinking, whispering to him that his eyes talk to her.

Her eyes talk to him now, and they beg. ‘Please don’t say it.’

Simon picks up the newly cleaned fork beside his plate, and begins eating. “Ta for the food, mum.” he tells her, and a small smile spreads on her lips.

Whatever she knows, scares her. Enough that, at the threat of voicing it, she’s desperate. Simon isn’t a good man, but he would never do something that brings his mum distress. He’s better than his rotting father. He has to be.

So, they eat in silence, his heartbeat the only sound. Bite by bite, he finishes his lunch.

It tastes like nothing in his mouth.

Simon helps Tommy with the dishes after they all finish, passing wet plates for him to dry. He waits until the rest of the family leaves before speaking.

“The mirror in the ground floor bathroom.” Simon gives him a set of forks.

Tommy gives him a confused look, towel wrapped around the utensils, “what about it?”

“It broke. That’s what made Joseph scream.”

Tommy sets down the towel, “the mirror is fine, he was probably just frightened by your reaction-”

“Tommy.” the water in the sink continues pouring over Simon’s now still hands, “don’t lie. We both know you’re shite at it. I know he saw.” his eyes drag over his brother’s paling face, “and I know you saw too.”

Tommy is silent for a long minute, Simon’s stare not wavering.

“What are you hiding from me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

Simon growls, patience thinning, “bullshit. You think I’m bloody stupid-”

The tap gurgles loudly, making both brothers stop in their tracks. Simon pulls his hands away to shut it, when it begins spitting out something that is very much not water.

Blood drips onto the dishes, clogging the drain and quickly filling the sink. Simon and Tommy take a step back as it spills on the floor.

He scans his brother’s horrified expression, “...you see it, don’t you?”

Tommy’s disturbed eyes are enough confirmation for him. “You’re running out of time.” his brother mumbles, voice unusually thin. He takes Simon’s hand in his, dragging him away before he can ask any of the thousands of questions bubbling up in his mind.

“Tommy, what-” they stop in the living room, where mum, Beth and Joseph are. They’re startled by Tommy’s hurried steps, but his mum seems to understand what’s going on.

“Is he…?” Beth asks, rising from the couch. Tommy nods, and she covers her mouth with her hand, on the verge of tears.

Simon shakes his brother’s grip, “can any of you tell me what’s going on?! I’ve been losing my goddamn mind, thinking I’ve been hallucinating shit, but clearly you all can see it, and unless mirrors can spontaneously break, and sinks are supposed to pour blood, this is all- you’re all-”

Tears horrifyingly begin pouring from his eyes, his voice breaking.

“This isn’t real.”

A rumbling shakes the house. Deep, like the moans of dead men. Simon watches, frozen, helpless, as slashes are cut through the walls, the floor, through furniture, butchered like the flesh of an animal ready for slaughter.

“Uncle Si!” Joseph screams, running towards him and Tommy. His mum steps back, shaking, until a slash goes through her.

Simon yells as blood spreads on her chest, and her eyes dim. Despite the mortal wounds blossoming on her skin, she smiles at him through tears.

Beth leaves them next, the cuts leaving dark red lines on her face, and her hand stills before she can reach her son.

“Tommy…” Simon looks away, unable to watch his family die again.

… Again?

His brother clutches at his shoulders, grip desperate, “you can’t give up, Simon, you hear me? Whatever you do, stay alive-”

Gashes tear through Tommy’s temples, one after the other. He brings a hand to wipe away the blood, only for more to replace it.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t stay longer.” his brother grunts, “but we will see you again. I promise.”

“Tommy- don’t leave” Simon grabs his hand as it slips, “not again… please, I can’t do it again, I can’t be alone again-”

“You’re not alone.” Tommy mumbles, words almost lost under the screaming house, “they saved you before. They’ll save you… again…”

The grip on his shoulders loosens, and his brother falls, never to rise once more.

Simon stares at his bloody hand, before a whimper catches his attention.

Joseph. Oh, Joseph.

“Joey…” he wraps his arms around the boy, sinking to his knees, as if he could shield him from events that are already set in gravestone.

Joseph trembles, sobbing. Crying for his mother, crying for his father, crying for his nana.

Crying for him.

“I don’t want you to die, Uncle Si.” Joey weeps. “Promise me you won’t die.”

Tears blur Simon’s vision, as their house falls apart, as the screaming becomes louder and louder.

“I promise, Joey.”

Joseph takes his face in his little hands, fingers squeezing his tear-streaked cheeks. His eyes have a tragic acceptance to them, and he gives his uncle one last bright smile.

“Then wake up.”

Ghost blinks his eyes open. Something about the world feels sharper. Maybe it’s the pain in his chest.

Bright lights burn strange shapes into his vision, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He looks to his side, finding wires connecting him to medical equipment, a constant beeping exposing just how fast his heart is beating.

It comes back to him in waves. His family’s death, Roba’s, re-enlistment. Years and years of bloodshed and war.

His fingers skim over his chest, and he winces as they hit a mass of bandages. Whatever got him, got him good.

Fingers digging into his wounds, his eyes fall shut.

It was all a bloody dream-

Ghost’s thoughts come to a halt when familiar voices fill the hall outside his room. He watches as the door opens, three men walking inside, talking like they didn’t notice him yet.

“The temporary LT is fuckin’ shite and ye know it, Captain. Bastard wouldn’t know good leadership if it hit him over his heid.” a Scot with a messy warhawk grouses. In his arms are a bundle of slightly crushed flowers.

Ghost’s eyes drift to the drying flowers on his bedside table, warmth spreading through his heart.

A man with a baseball cap joins him, “Soap, you’d complain about any LT that is not Ghost.” he ignores Soap’s indignant noises, settling into a chair beside the window, “but you’re right, he’s bloody hopeless, Price.”

Doesn’t sound like he’s been replaced just yet, he huffs silently.

Price sighs, lifting his bucket hat to scrub a hand through his short hair, “for the hundredth time, Gaz, Soap, the Lieutenant is temporary. We just need to wait for Ghost to wake up.”

“Well,” Ghost clears his throat, “you’re welcome to put the Sergeants out of their misery now.”

His team freezes, before three pairs of eyes land on him.

“LT!” Soap jumps into action first, practically running to his side, “ye’re- you’re awake! Fuck, you’re really…” he grasps the railing tightly, bright blue eyes not leaving his, “we thought you’d never-”

“Think that little of me, Johnny?” he asks teasingly, “it takes more than this to take me out-”

Gaz talks over him, looking like he’s about to slap him, “it nearly bloody did, sir.”

What? “What happened.” Ghost demands from Price.

The Captain sighs as he sits in the chair nearest to the bed, “we found you after you missed several check-ins. Seven stab wounds to the chest, you’ve been bleeding out for at least half an hour.” Price shakes his head, “coded once on the helo on the way here. Surgery was successful, but you didn’t wake up.”

“How long was I-”

“Two weeks.” Johnny answers, his face grim. “Ye’ve been out for two weeks.”

Fuck. Ghost swallows, “well, I’m awake now.” he gazes at Johnny, who gives him a weak smile.

His eyes drift away from his Sergeant, to the bright window. There, on the windowsill, he sees something that makes his breathing stop.

Gaz picks up on what caught his attention first, “you had them in your hands when we found you. We weren’t sure if they were important to you, you didn’t let us take them until your heart literally gave out.”

On the windowsill, lit by warm sunlight, are four little dolls. A taller, blond one, his wife, a fiery redhead, their son, with the most radiant smile in the world, and his nana, with her meek hand in his. Their house gone, but not forgotten. 

“Simon…?” Johnny asks, and he hums. “Why are ye crying?”

Simon looks over his team, smiling, even as tears roll down his face.

“They saved you before. They’ll save you again.”

“Just glad to be back home.”

[benispunk]

Who's That Girl?

Chapter 21: Face The Music

So...they kissed...what's next?

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, D&W.

A/N: hey!! well here we are...this is the last chapter...enough talking for the moment!! enjoy this chapter! and I'll talk to you at the end!!

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist /Previous Part

Wade tugged on his sneakers, already picturing the smug look on that one guy’s face from his usual running route. He hated running into overly enthusiastic joggers—too much pep in the morning. Why do they look so happy running? He groaned as he headed for the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

His brain was still half-asleep, running on autopilot until he spotted a figure at the counter.

At first, he didn’t fully register it. The smell of coffee wafted through the air, and someone was scrolling casually on their phone. But then it hit him—Logan. Logan was standing there. Logan.

Wade froze mid-step, blinking like he’d just spotted Bigfoot sipping an espresso. For the past several days, Logan had been the definition of now you see me, now you don’t. The man had been avoiding them, but of course mostly Y/N… He’d somehow mastered the art of slipping in and out of the apartment like a shadow, avoiding even the slightest contact. And yet, here he was.

Logan didn’t even glance up from his phone, sipping his coffee like it was any other day.

“Well, well, well,” Wade drawled, leaning against the doorway with crossed arms. “If it isn’t the ghost of roommates past. Long time no see, Peanut. What brings you out of the shadows? Forgot where the coffee pot was?”

Logan’s eyes flicked up briefly, his expression as stoic as ever. “Good morning to you too, bub,” he replied, voice calm but with the faintest hint of amusement.

It was that flicker—barely noticeable but there—that made Wade narrow his eyes. Something was off. Logan looked… lighter. Relaxed, even. As if the last few days hadn’t happened.

Wade squinted, stepping further into the kitchen. “Are you… okay?” he asked slowly, his suspicion growing by the second.

Logan shrugged, setting his phone down and taking another sip of his coffee. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Wade said, waving a hand dramatically. “Maybe because you’ve been pulling a Houdini act for the past week—and don’t say that’s not true!”

Logan rolled his eyes, but there was no real bite to it. If anything, he almost looked amused. That alone made Wade even more suspicious.

Before Wade could press further, soft footsteps approached from the hallway. He turned just in time to see Y/N step into the kitchen, her bag slung over her shoulder.

How was she going to react when she’ll see Logan there?! He knows it’s been hard on her. And he knows it’s mainly his fault for putting his foot in it.

What he didn’t expect was the bright expression on her face at the sight of him.

“Hey,” she said warmly, her gaze immediately finding Logan.

And that was when Wade noticed it.

The smile Logan gave her wasn’t just his usual polite acknowledgment. It was soft, warm, the kind of smile that made Wade’s jaw drop because—wait a minute.

“I just need to grab my bag, and then I’ll be ready to go,” Y/N said, her voice almost shy as her cheeks flushed slightly.

Logan nodded, his tone equally soft. “Take your time.”

Wade blinked. Blinked again. His brain struggled to process the scene in front of him. Y/N disappeared back down the hallway, leaving Wade and Logan alone once more.

Was that supposed to be normal?

“What the actual hell was that?” Wade asked, his voice flat with disbelief.

Logan didn’t answer immediately, returning his attention to his phone like nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Logan,” Wade said again, stepping closer. “Explain. Now.”

Logan shrugged, as casual as could be. “We made up,” he said simply, like that explained everything.

Wade’s jaw dropped. “Made up?” he hissed, his voice rising slightly before he quickly lowered it. “What do you mean you made up? That could mean anything! Did you talk? Hug? Share a cupcake? I need details, man!”

Logan smirked, and Wade swore it was the most infuriating smirk he’d ever seen.

Before Wade could lose his mind completely, he leaned in, lowering his voice even further. “Care to elaborate? Or do I have to guess? And if you say it’s none of my business, I swear I’ll—”

Logan finally sighed, setting his phone down and meeting Wade’s intense stare. “We kissed,” he admitted.

For a moment, Wade was completely silent.

Then, in true Wade Wilson fashion, he exploded.

“WHAT?!” he whisper-shouted, his hands flying to tug at Logan’s shirt. “You kissed her? When?! How?! Was it romantic? Don’t leave me hanging here, man!”

Logan smirked again, his calm demeanor only fueling Wade’s frantic energy.

“You’re killing me!” Wade whisper-screamed, pacing back and forth in the kitchen. “I—I don’t even know what to do with this information! This is a game-changer, Logan! A life-changer! What do you—”

He abruptly cut himself off as Y/N reappeared, her bag now slung over her shoulder.

“Ready to go?” she asked, her smile bright and unassuming.

“Yeah,” Logan replied smoothly, grabbing his own bag and heading toward the door.

As he passed Wade, he reached out and playfully punched him in the stomach. Wade doubled over dramatically, glaring at Logan.

“See you later, Wade!” Y/N called cheerfully as the two of them left.

Still clutching his stomach, Wade straightened up, muttering to himself. “This is so not over.”

He was pacing the kitchen, muttering to himself about how life wasn’t fair and how he deserved to know more, when the sound of the front door opening made him jump. He spun around, ready to throw some sarcastic remark at whoever dared interrupt his spiraling, but his jaw dropped when Logan stepped back inside, closing the door behind him.

“Forgot something,” Logan muttered quickly, his eyes darting toward the hallway.

“Wait, what?” Wade blurted, completely thrown off.

Logan’s gaze flicked to him, and for the first time since Wade had known the guy, Logan looked... excited. Not just regular excited, but an almost boyish, slightly frantic kind of excitement. It was weird. It was amazing.

“I gotta make this quick,” Logan said, his voice low but urgent as he walked toward Wade. “I told her I forgot something, and she’s waiting for me downstairs, but—”

“But?!” Wade repeated, his hands shooting out like he was physically trying to grab the story out of Logan.

Logan hesitated for half a second, then sighed, leaning closer to Wade like they were two kids gossiping at lunch. “We kissed last night.”

Wade’s face lit up like Christmas morning. “YES!” he whisper-shouted, pumping his fist in the air. “Finally! Okay, keep going—what happened?”

Logan glanced at the door, checking for any sign of Y/N, then leaned back in. “It wasn’t just that. Before that... Mark showed up.”

The excitement in Wade’s face melted into sheer confusion. “Mark? Wait—her psycho ex? You’re kidding me.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “He followed her on her way home. Pulled her into an alley. Had his hands on her—”

Wade’s eyes went wide, and his voice shot up several decibels. “WHAT THE FUCK?”

“I could’ve killed him,” Logan said, his voice low and guttural. His knuckles flexed like they were itching to throw another punch. “I swear to god, Wade, I almost did. He had his hands on her. She was crying—trying to fight him off—and when I saw that, something just—snapped. I put him against the wall, told him if he ever touched her again, I’d make sure he wouldn’t be able to crawl out of whatever hole I put him in.”

Wade stared at Logan like he’d grown another head, his mouth opening and closing in stunned silence. “...Okay, holy shit.You’re not even exaggerating, are you?”

Logan gave him a sharp look. “Do I look like I’m exaggerating?”

Wade shook his head quickly. “Nope. You look like you’re about to fight me just for breathing wrong.”

Logan exhaled hard, his shoulders dropping slightly. “I threw him to the ground. Told him to leave her alone for good. Made him repeat it before I let him crawl away.”

“Damn,” Wade muttered, his expression somewhere between impressed and horrified. “I know you’ve got the whole ‘strong, silent type with a heart of gold’ thing going on, but that’s... next level, man. Did she—”

“She was shaking,” Logan admitted quietly, a flicker of pain crossing his face. “I thought maybe she’d hate me for losing it like that, but... she didn’t. She just—”

“—melted into your arms like a freakin’ romance novel?” Wade finished, clearly invested now.

Logan shot him a flat look. “She cried. I held her. Then I brought her home.”

“And then?” Wade prompted, leaning in so close it was borderline invasive.

“And then,” Logan continued, his tone softening, “we talked. Well, I talked. Apologized for avoiding her. She said she was okay... but I could tell she wasn’t… It wasn’t... planned or anything. She was heading to her room, but then she just... stopped. She turned around and came back, and then—”

“She kissed you.” Wade’s grin stretched across his entire face.

Logan’s lips twitched upward. “Yeah. She kissed me.”

“And you kissed her back,” Wade pressed, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Of course I did.” Logan smirked.

Wade let out a strangled sound, somewhere between a laugh and a scream. “This is insane. This is incredible. You’re incredible. Oh my god, I need every single detail.”

Logan glanced at the door again, his grin fading slightly. “I’ll tell you later,” he said, already stepping toward the exit. “She’s waiting for me downstairs.”

“No!” Wade whisper-yelled, grabbing Logan’s arm. “You can’t just drop this and walk out! What else happened? What’s the plan now?!”

Logan shrugged, his smirk returning. “There’s no plan. Not yet, anyway. But...” He hesitated, his voice softening. “We’ll figure it out.”

Wade stared at him for a long moment, then sighed dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. “Man, you’re killing me. This is too good.”

Logan opened the door, pausing just long enough to glance back at Wade. “Thanks, Wade,” he said simply, his tone genuine.

“For what?” Wade asked, caught off guard.

“For pushing me,” Logan said, his expression uncharacteristically earnest.

Before Wade could respond, Logan stepped out, the door clicking shut behind him. Wade stood there in stunned silence for a moment, then finally shook his head, muttering under his breath.

“Attaboy, Peanut. Atta-freakin’-boy.”

———

Y/N and Logan walked side by side down the familiar route to the school. There was a quietness between them, but it wasn’t awkward. If anything, it felt… settled. A shift in the air, warm and unspoken, hummed between them—neither one daring to put it into words just yet.

Y/N glanced sideways at Logan, watching him out of the corner of her eye. He looked more at ease than he had in days, his shoulders relaxed and his usual tension nowhere to be found. It felt like seeing him again, after weeks of him being a shadow of himself.

“What time does your first class start today?” she asked, her voice light, breaking the quiet.

Logan turned his head slightly, his gaze softening as he looked at her. “Eight thirty. Yours?”

“Same,” she said with a small smile. “Though my first class is probably going to be a disaster. I tried a new seating chart, and I already know they’re going to hate it.”

Logan’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

She laughed softly, the sound light and genuine. “Well, it’s too late now. Guess I’ll just have to brace for impact.”

Their conversation flowed easily, dipping into the mundane details of their morning routines and what they expected from the day ahead. The words were ordinary, but there was an ease between them that hadn’t been there before.

At one point, their hands brushed as they navigated a narrow section of the sidewalk. It was brief, barely more than a touch, but it sent a spark through them all the same. Neither of them acknowledged it, but Logan’s pace seemed to slow just slightly after that, as though prolonging the moment.

When they reached the school, the familiar buzz of students and staff filled the air. The spell of their quiet walk began to break, but the warmth lingered. Logan paused just outside his classroom, turning slightly to face her.

“Have a good morning,” he said.

“You too,” she replied, offering him a small smile.

For a moment, they lingered there, caught in the subtle pull that had been building between them all morning. Then Logan gave a brief nod and disappeared into his classroom, leaving Y/N standing in the hallway with a flutter in her chest.

———

The hours slipped by quickly, the rhythm of the school day doing its best to fill the spaces in Y/N’s mind. Yet, even amid the chaos of lesson plans, grading, and the occasional classroom disruption, her thoughts inevitably circled back to Logan.

She saw him a few times during the day—at the lounge when they both reached for the coffee pot at the same time, at the cafeteria when their eyes met briefly across the room. Each time, it was the same: easy conversation, quiet smiles, nothing really different… yet everything felt different.

Their colleagues noticed too. It wasn’t in the way they acted—after all, they hadn’t said or done anything obvious—but in the way the atmosphere between them had changed. The tension from the last few days had disappeared, replaced by a kind of magnetic ease that didn’t go unnoticed.

By the time the final bell rang, Y/N’s nerves had started to build. She knew what she wanted to do, knew that they needed to talk, really talk, about everything.

When her last student finally left, she made her way down the hall toward Logan’s classroom. The sound of her knuckles against the doorframe made him glance up from his desk, where he was packing away papers into his bag.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice warm and even, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, maybe, or curiosity.

“Hey,” she said back, stepping just inside the door. “You heading out soon?”

“Yeah, just finishing up.” He straightened, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “Why?”

Y/N hesitated for only a moment before finding her voice. “I was wondering if… you’d want to grab a drink before heading home. To, you know… talk.”

For a split second, Logan’s expression softened, his lips parting as though to say something. Instead, he nodded. “Sure. That sounds good.”

She smiled, her heart thudding in her chest as relief and nerves swirled together. “Okay. Let’s go, then.”

———

The bar wasn’t far from their apartment, a cozy spot with dim lighting and the faint hum of conversation that made it feel both intimate and secluded. They found a small table in the corner, tucked away from the other patrons. Logan pulled out a chair for her, his hand brushing hers as she sat down, sending a ripple of warmth through her.

The server brought their drinks—beer for Logan, wine for Y/N—and left them in their little bubble of quiet.

For a moment, they didn’t say anything. Logan tapped the side of his glass absently, and Y/N traced the rim of hers with her finger. Their eyes met briefly, and both of them chuckled, the sound soft and nervous. Logan was the first to break the silence, clearing his throat softly as he glanced up at her. 

But it was Y/N who took the plunge. Her voice was steady, though her heart hammered in her chest.

“Do you regret it?”

Logan’s brows knitted slightly, and for a split second, her stomach twisted. But then he shook his head, his voice firm and unwavering. “No. I don’t regret it. Not for a second.”

The weight on her shoulders lifted instantly, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. A small, relieved smile tugged at her lips. “Good. Because I… I didn’t know what to think. I mean, after everything, I wasn’t sure if you…”

“If I what?” he asked gently, his eyes locked on hers.

She hesitated, her fingers nervously twisting the stem of her glass. “If you felt the same way.”

Logan leaned forward slightly, his gaze softening. “What’s ‘the same way’?”

Heat rose to her cheeks, but she forced herself to look at him, to be honest. “If you… felt about me the way I feel about you.”

The corner of his mouth twitched into the faintest smile, and his voice dropped to a near whisper. “Then yes. I do.”

Her heart leapt, a flood of emotions washing over her all at once—relief, joy, disbelief. She let out a shaky laugh, her nerves giving way to something warmer. “This is crazy, isn’t it? That we’ve been so… oblivious. All this time, it was right there in front of us.”

Logan leaned back slightly, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “It’s not that crazy. I don’t think I would’ve done anything about it, though. Not ever.”

The smile faded from her face, replaced by confusion. “What do you mean?”

Realizing how his words might have sounded, Logan straightened, his expression earnest as he rushed to explain. “Not because I didn’t want to. God, Y/N, I wanted to. I just…” He trailed off, exhaling deeply as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t think I could. I mean, you—you’re everything. And me… I’m just—”

“Logan—”

“Let me finish,” he interrupted gently but firmly. His voice was raw now, his words spilling out like he’d been holding them back for far too long. “You’ve always been so… good. And kind. And strong. And I’ve just spent my life trying to… survive. I’ve made so many mistakes, hurt so many people, and I’m terrified of doing that to you. Of hurting you. Because you’re the last person in the world I want to hurt.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening. “I didn’t think I deserved you. Hell, I still don’t. But when I’m with you… everything feels lighter. Like maybe I’m not as broken as I thought I was.”

The tears she’d been holding back slipped free, trailing down her cheeks. She reached across the table, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it tightly. “Logan,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the emotion trembling beneath it. “Nothing anyone says—nothing you say—will ever make me feel differently about you. Not even what Victor said, or whatever you think the world might think of you. I know who you are. I’ve always known.”

His eyes glistened, though no tears fell. He looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that made sense.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly.

His breath hitched, and for a moment, he just stared at her, like he was trying to memorize every detail of her face. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his lips, soft and unguarded, his eyes shining.

“I love you, too,” he said, the words coming out like a vow, like they were meant to be hers all along.

The moment hung between them, warm and full of quiet understanding.

She let out a soft laugh, the tension melting away. “So… we’re taking things slow, right? One step at a time?”

Logan smirked, leaning back in his seat. “Sure. Except, you know, we’ve already skipped about ten steps. Roommates first, coworkers second, and now…”

Y/N grinned, finishing for him, “And now this.”

They both laughed, the sound easy and light.

“We’re not exactly conventional, are we?” Logan asked.

“Not even a little,” she replied, her grin widening. “But what’s conventional anyway?”

Logan leaned forward again, resting his forearms on the table, his gaze steady on hers. “Yeah. You’re right. And for the record, I don’t mind skipping steps, as long as we end up in the same place.”

Her smile softened at his words, the vulnerability in his voice making her chest ache in the best way. “I don’t mind either.”

They sat there for another moment, just looking at each other, the silence comfortable and filled with unspoken promises. Outside, the world carried on, but in their little corner of the bar, it felt like time had slowed just for them.

Y/N glanced at her watch, a reluctant sigh escaping her lips. “We should probably head back before Wade thinks we’ve skipped a few more steps.”

Logan laughed, standing up and reaching for his coat. “He probably already thinks that.”

Y/N grabbed her bag, shaking her head with a fond smile as they headed for the door.

The walk back to the apartment was quiet but not awkward, their hands brushing occasionally before Logan finally took hers in his. She glanced up at him, her cheeks warming, but she didn’t let go.

“So,” Y/N said, glancing up at him with a playful smirk. “What’s next on the list of steps? Couple dinners? Grocery shopping?”

Logan chuckled, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. “Sounds thrilling. We should probably pick up a checklist, just to be thorough.”

“Oh, of course,” she replied with mock seriousness. “Can’t risk skipping any more steps.”

When they reached the apartment, the warm glow of the living room lights spilled through the window, a sign that Wade was home. As soon as they stepped inside, Wade turned from where he was sitting on the couch, his eyebrows raising.

“Would you look at that…” he drawled, smirking. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to say anything about how you two look suspiciously happy or how your hands were totally linked when you walked in.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, slipping off her coat. “You just did, Wade.”

Wade finally looked up, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Fine, fine. But just so you know, when you eventually tell me about this—because you will—I want to hear every detail. And for the record…” he leaned back, arms crossed. “Don’t forget my name when you send out the wedding invites. That’s all.”

Logan shot him a warning look, though the corners of his mouth twitched. “Don’t you have something better to do?”

“Not really.” Wade grinned but stood up anyway, throwing a wink over his shoulder as he headed toward his room. “Carry on, lovebirds.”

He disappeared before either of them could respond, leaving Y/N and Logan standing in the middle of the living room.

Y/N let out a laugh, looking at Logan. “He’s never going to let this go, is he?”

Logan smirked, stepping closer and brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Probably not. But I can handle him.”

She smiled, glancing down as she slipped out of her shoes. “I’m going to change into something more comfortable.”

As she turned to leave, Logan caught her hand, spinning her back toward him in one smooth motion. The twirl was so effortless it made her laugh, but her breath caught as he leaned down, his lips brushing hers in a sweet, lingering kiss.

When they broke apart, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining.

“That was…” Y/N started, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” Logan murmured, his smile widening.

“OH MY GOD!”

They jumped apart, turning to see Wade standing in the hallway, his hands over his mouth, acting dramatically shocked.

“You couldn’t wait, huh? Right here in the living room, in front of God and me?”

Y/N’s face burned as she tried—and failed—to come up with a response. Logan, however, was unfazed. He ran a hand through his hair, his lips quirking into a smirk. “What are you still doing here?”

“I live here,” Wade deadpanned. “But don’t mind me. Please, continue. I’ll just… avert my eyes.” He covered his face with both hands, peeking through his fingers a moment later. “Or not.”

Logan groaned, turning to Y/N with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry.”

She laughed, the awkward tension melting away. “Don’t be. He’s our problem now.”

Wade scoffed, pretending to be offended. “Excuse me? I’m the reason you two are even happening. A little gratitude would be nice.”

Logan sighed, shaking his head as he grabbed Y/N’s hand. “Come on. Let’s go before he says something even worse.”

As they walked toward her room, Wade called out one last time. “But for real, I’m expecting a toast at the wedding! ‘To Wade, the unsung hero of this love story!’ That has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? I know I love it.”

Y/N laughed as Logan muttered something under his breath, his hand squeezing hers. They disappeared into her room, leaving Wade to his dramatics. But despite his antics, the warmth in his smile lingered long after they were gone.

For the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

For once in my life, I have someone who needs me, someone I've needed so long.

Oh, someone warm like you, would make my dream come true.

XXX

A/N: because I do not want to say goodbye to this story (yet) let me tell you first and foremost, there will be an epilogue!!!!!! but officially, yes, this is the last part *insert a pic of me crying* I need to thank you guys so so much for all the love and support for this fic!!! I hadn't written a long fic like that in years and you all made me so happy when I saw you liked it!!! if you have any specific request/ideas for "spin-offs"/one shots from this story I'll gladly take them!! I love you guys so so much, and I hope you liked this final chapter! I had a really difficult time writing it but I love it that way! anyway, see you soon for more stories🫶

[aziraphales-library]

Hello mods! I’m looking for any fics about or including moments where Aziraphale accidentally falls asleep around Crowley? A cat nap on the couch or in the Bentley, that sort of thing. Preferably with some pining on Crowley’s end or at least before any sort of established relationship. Thank you for the help!!

We have fics about Aziraphale and sleep here and here. Here are some fics where he falls asleep...

Sit Around and Dream by his_infinitevariety (G)

Crowley may or may not catch Aziraphale sleeping.

Counterpoint by EdosianOrchids901 (T)

When Aziraphale is injured during a raid on a monastery, he’s unable to focus enough to heal the injuries. Crowley offers to help, but Aziraphale is suspicious. Can he trust a demon?

As If By Divine Ordinance by vir_adahlenn (G)

Aziraphale falls asleep on Crowley's couch. Yearning ensues.

It Is Written (In The Smile On Your Face, My Beloved) by Angel_made_of_stars (G)

There is an unspoken bond. A bond very seldom kept unbroken. Something the angel and the demon had toed the line of before. But that meant nothing, when faced with the question. What will you do when it is shown? AKA: Aziraphale falls asleep in Crowley’s car, going a full one hundred, and he has never seen more trust shown. Maybe it’s time he trusts a sleeping angel with his confessions.

you fell asleep in my car, I drove the whole time (but that's okay, I'll just avoid the holes so you sleep fine) by midnightdragons (G)

Crowley sighed tiredly, patting the Bentley's dashboard and smoothing a hand over it. She revved her engine at him, the tiniest hum – she sounded almost smug (at least, as smug as a car can be), and Crowley frowned disapprovingly. “Shaddup,” he mumbled, reddening all the way to the tips of his ears. “Even angels gotta rest, I guess. Don’t wanna piss ‘im off by drivin’ too fast, y’know?” The Bentley hummed again, as if saying: when have you ever cared about that before, you old sap? Crowley doggedly ignored her in favor of glancing towards Aziraphale once more, a smile threatening to tug at the corners of his mouth once more at the sight of the sleeping angel. He looked so at peace, so relaxed, and . . . and so trusting. It made the place where his heart should be utterly ache.

Aziraphale falls asleep in the Bentley, and Crowley begrudgingly gives up his favorite pastime of violating traffic laws and breaking the sound barrier with Queen music to allow him to rest.

Apostraphe and Somniloquy by cyankelpie (G)

Exhausted by all the excitement with the church and the Nazis, Aziraphale falls asleep mid-conversation. Crowley talks to him while he sleeps. To his surprise, Aziraphale talks back.

- Mod D