#the 'you all knew' is in reference to a fic where he tries to pretend to b human

[s1llycilantro]

you guys will NOT believe who sat down and finally watched hermitcraft

[aurianavaloria]

KoH - What Good May Come (Baldwin IV x Reader)

Fandom: Kingdom of Heaven

Pairing: Baldwin IV x Fem!Reader

PoV: Mixed/Split (Tiberias - Fem!Reader - Baldwin)

Length: Long (8k+ words! 😬)

TW: Vague mentions of disfigurement/leprosy

A/N: FINALLY, I've finished the Y/N fic that was voted on so long ago in this poll. Since the results were fairly close, I simply eliminated the least-voted option and went with a combination of the rest. 😁I've tried my best to keep Y/N truly generic, although she is female; in all other ways, though, it was my hope to make her vague enough that readers could envision whomever they liked in whatever universe/version of the story they wished. Backstory and circumstances are also left as vague as possible. As far as personality, I tried to go with what seemed most popular in general, again in an attempt to appeal to the widest audience. I sincerely hope you enjoy, and thank you all for being awesome! 🤗

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“She adores you, you know.”

It was these words from Tiberias that broke the silence between king and vassal – a companionable one… one born from years of acquaintanceship that had seen both parties through their fair share of strife and misunderstandings. A type of camaraderie perhaps only two leaders in their position could comprehend and be satisfied with.

The Count of Tripoli watched as his liege-lord’s attention was drawn from the bright Jerusalem outdoors into which he was all but forbidden to emerge. Watched as eyes as blue as the sky Tiberias knew was above drifted to his own. One was clouded, now – a sign of impending blindness. But Tiberias remembered well when both possessed such a clear and sharp forget-me-not stare, bidding all who beheld their gaze to indeed forget them not…

“I beg your pardon, Raymond,” the king replied, the silver mask he wore slightly muffling carefully-chosen words, smooth as the waters of the Jordan. “My thoughts have wandered, as they often do these days, and I am uncertain as to whom you refer.”

The smallest of laughs escaped Tiberias’s lips as they briefly twisted into a half-smile – a response to His Majesty that perhaps only he could get away with. He swirled what remained of the deep claret wine in his goblet, leveling his gaze at the king over the rim; the Count had known his lord since before he had come of age, and no amount of masks could cover the fact that Baldwin IV of Jerusalem was always aware of more than he pretended.

“Forgive me for my lack of clarity, my lord,” Raymond answered wryly. “I speak of Lady Y/N.”

“Ah, yes.”

Baldwin’s response was accompanied by the slightest nod, silver shimmering with the movement as it caught a sunray. His eyes fell to the chess pieces that functioned not as part of an actual match between them, but merely an occupation for restless hands. Particularly the king’s. Gloved in white, one of those half-numb hands still somehow moved with grace, a slender finger perched atop the head of a knight, resting upon the carved arch of the stallion’s mane.

Tiberias noted the short answer, half-sighed. No doubt His Majesty’s thoughts continued where his lips dared not to go, if the Count knew him as well as he thought he did…

“She speaks of you fondly and often,” Raymond added, sipping of the wine. “I believe she is single-handedly determined to bring your presence back into court by mention of your name and titles alone.”

White fingers released the knight. “The court is far too vicious a place for as good a soul as hers,” Baldwin said at length, sitting back in his chair, another sigh escaping him like the hiss of steam behind his mask as he glanced away. “Lately, I have been thinking of what to do with her. It is increasingly obvious there is no place for her here. Not amongst these vultures.”

“Oh?” Tiberias’s brows arched high. “Isn’t there?”

“No. There is not.”

At that, the Count’s lips pressed together as he leaned forward, setting his goblet on the chess table and folding his hands in his lap. “My lord, surely you aren’t thinking of sending her away. Not from here, where she has found joy despite everything.” He caught his liege’s gaze as it returned to him, adding pointedly, “Where you have found it.”

“My joy is irrelevant,” Baldwin replied flatly. “And as for hers...” he paused, and Raymond could see the king’s throat bob past his bandages. “It will not persist. It is best she seek it elsewhere, before that which she has found here meets its inevitable end.”

The corner of the Count’s mouth twitched. “You, or Jerusalem?”

“I am Jerusalem,” the king answered simply.

Tiberias glanced away, closing his eyes for a moment as silence stretched between them. The Count in him knew that Baldwin was, in a way, correct. Disaster loomed on the horizon – a kind of calamity from which they might not return, and it would most assuredly begin with His Majesty’s death. If the physicians were right and not being overly generous in their assessment, then the king had less than a decade left in his short life. And imbeciles like Guy de Lusignan seemed determined to shorten it further. Yes, she would be safer – and perhaps happier in the long term – elsewhere…

Yet there was something so terribly tragic about it all that Tiberias couldn’t help but feel sympathy grow in his heart for the boy. Yes boy. He hadn’t even had the chance to grow a man’s whiskers on his cheeks before that damned disease had twisted his face almost beyond recognition. And Tiberias had seen it all. Even through the at-times frustrating trials of Baldwin’s kingship, the Count of Tripoli had watched as the golden-haired warrior of sixteen years had wasted away into this silver-faced specter that had become far too wise, far too young…

…but he had also watched those specter’s eyes glow with a long-absent light the moment Y/N had stood before him. For a fleeting instant, he had once again seen the eyes of a younger king, reminiscent of past joys and glorious victories.

Baldwin would extinguish that light in an instant for her sake, romantic fool that he was. Or perhaps it was Raymond himself who was the fool, as he thought of Y/N and how she, too, had been drawn to the king the moment they’d met. How such a precious creature, so rare upon this Earth, had fallen into such a deadly trap… and now it seemed, like a snared rabbit, her only option was to chew off her own limb before the hunter found her.

How to rescue them both from such a fate?

“The girl is in love with you, my lord,” he began after a moment, his voice a growling murmur. “To send her away would break her heart. It would destroy her.” He shook his head, meeting the king’s stare with his own. “As it would you, and you know it.”

“What would you have me do, Tiberias?” Baldwin asked, Raymond’s more familiar moniker finally coming out now that the Count’s words had pierced past the royal façade. “To let her stay will cause her only despair, and that will destroy the both of us as well. And I cannot be that selfish to such a benevolent soul.” Tiberias heard a long exhale behind the mask as the king cast his eyes to the ceiling, as if searching for answers amongst the lofty vaults. “Were it not for this disease I would ask her father for her hand and devote my life to her as her husband before the altar of God. But I am a leper, and I am forbidden that.” The pale gaze that returned to the Count’s was a haunting one now, as if all the ghosts of Purgatory screamed through it for salvation. A mirthless laugh followed, a dark sound born of darker thoughts. “It seems I can do nothing else but waste away before her very eyes. So tell me, my wise vassal – if I cannot protect her from what is to come, what is it that I can do?”

A flicker of a smile crossed Tiberias’s lips. “Love her, my lord. As I know you already do.” He paused, propping his elbows on the table and rubbing his sword-calloused hands together as he thought.

“It’s the whole reason for your self-flagellation, is it not?” he continued after a moment. “This talk of sending Y/N out of Jerusalem – your crown tells you one thing, but your heart tells you another, and for the first time you want to toss the crown by the wayside, and that makes you fear you are an incompetent king. So you pick up the crown again in hopes it will crush the heart, and perhaps the love along with it.”

Another sigh, the lids of the king’s eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “I only wish to do what is right, Tiberias. It is what I have striven for my entire life, and I will not abandon such principles now. If it means my own suffering, so be it. And as for her,” his eyes opened once more, latching to Raymond’s, “tell me what good may come from the love of a leper.”

This time, it was the Count who sighed, sitting back in his chair. “Peace. Mercy. Comfort. Everything you have brought to this kingdom.” He crossed an ankle over his knee, peaking his fingers. “You cannot know that a little cruelty now will not hurt her any less than what will come later. But you do know that loving her can only bring happiness to you both in the present moment – and that is what she lives for. Not the future.” He cocked his head at the king. “There is nothing wicked in what she desires. Nor in what you wish for her. The both of you want nothing more than the other’s well-being. How can that be anything but right?”

Raymond saw Baldwin’s throat bob again, the mask shimmering in the sunlight as he shifted in his seat, first looking down towards the floor, then back to the illuminated arcade.

“How shall I court her, then?” he inquired at length, his voice softer, cynicism at last yielding to tender warmth. “How to show her this affection of mine without forever staining her honor?”

Tiberias’s jaw worked as he thought for a few moments in silence. “If you wish to be discreet, my lord, I believe I may assist in this matter.”

It was then, as Baldwin returned his attention to the Count, that the latter saw a glimpse of boyish mischief sparkling in his liege’s eye. “I would trust no other to the task.”

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“My lady, a courier flagged me down today and told me to give you this.”

Your lady-in-waiting approached, holding out a small wrapped parcel.

“What is it?” you asked, interest piqued.

The handmaid shook her head. “I have no idea, my lady. The courier didn’t say.”

You felt your brow furrow as you took the parcel in hand. The fabric was fine, but not terribly so – a soft cream color, tied with a simple yellow ribbon.

“Hmm. I wonder who it is from.”

“He didn’t say that, either,” your companion commented.

Curiosity mounting by the second, you decided to succumb to the impulse to open the parcel, tugging at the ribbon. Casting it aside, you pulled back the corners of the fabric to reveal a folded piece of parchment, within which had been tucked something slightly weighty…

Merely tilting the parchment to the side let the object slide free into your waiting palm, and you couldn’t stifle the gasp that escaped you. There, in your hand, lay a lovely brooch, sparkling in the sunlight that streamed in from your window. A small disk of gold, swirling floral patterns weaved across its surface and wound about its edge like vines of roses. At its center was set a sapphire cabochon, polished and glimmering, and from its bottom edge hung a single creamy white pearl, like a teardrop in shape.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!”

The words came from your lady-in-waiting; you were too busy still holding your breath as you took in the details of this exquisite piece. You ran a finger over the filigree and atop the smooth stone in wonder. Who could have possibly gifted you something so beautiful and why?

As if reading your mind, your fellow courtier prompted, “Maybe the parchment says who it’s from.”

Finally remembering to breathe, you nodded, carefully unfolding the small piece of vellum to see a tight, neat script, punctuated with neither signature nor seal:

You will never know how much light you bring into the lives of others. It is my only hope that this small token of my regard brings a measure of light into yours.

This time, it was both you and your handmaiden who gasped in unison, barely stifling squeaks of girlish delight as you exchanged looks with one another.

“You, my lady, have an admirer!”

In awe, you stared at the parchment, reading the words over and over again. But who could have possibly written them?

“So it seems,” you replied at length, running a thumb across the surface of the brooch.

“Well,” your comrade continued, straightening and putting her hands on her hips, “that will give you plenty to talk about at the feast tonight.”

Your brow furrowed. “Feast?”

She nodded with a grin. “Yes, feast! Princess Sibylla arranged it. Perhaps you’ll find your mysterious admirer amongst the guests there, hmm?”

At that, you could only blink for a moment, your thoughts a whirlwind in your mind. Of all the things to find in Jerusalem, you hadn’t quite expected an admirer to be one of them…

“I’m not sure whether to be frightened or excited by the prospects,” you finally replied honestly, a nervous chuckle following your words.

“Oh, lady,” your handmaid admonished, swatting a hand playfully at your shoulder. “It will be quite fun, I’m sure. The princess’s functions are always lighthearted affairs, or so I hear. I imagine there will be dancing and merry music aplenty. Just plan to enjoy yourself, and if something – or someone – intriguing comes along…” she trailed and winked.

You tried to fight the blush that sprang to your cheeks, but to no avail, leading your handmaid to laugh heartily. “Ah, my lady. By your leave, I must see to a few things before evening falls, but I will return to help you get ready.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, giving a nod of assent. “Of course.”

With that, the lady-in-waiting dipped into a polite curtsey and left, closing your chamber door gently behind her and leaving you to your increasingly-anxious thoughts. Your attention returned to the parchment and brooch – both were fine indeed, indicating that, whoever your admirer was, they were certainly someone of status. Yet there was a certain practicality to both; the author’s penmanship was practiced and elegant, but not overstated, and the brooch itself was obviously expensive, but neither was it overly extravagant.

It was also a rather fitting gift, considering you had only just lost your old one on the way to Jerusalem…

And then it hit you.

It can’t be…

Your heart began to beat harder in your chest as it all came to you in a rush. Yes, you’d lost your beloved brooch on the long journey to Jerusalem – one of your last remaining ties to your homeland. A silly thing to get upset about, you told yourself later on, and yet the loss of it affected you even after your arrival at court. Nevertheless, no one up until that point knew besides your lady-in-waiting. And there was only one Jerusalemite native to whom you had confided that little detail.

The king.

Your mouth ran dry as you remembered the instance as clearly as if it had been yesterday. It was only your third day at the palace, and you’d yet to become accustomed to its maze-like halls. Couple that with your fascination with the local architecture, and that led you to places, in hindsight, you probably ought not have tread. Yet no one stopped you, even as the number of palace guests thinned and you emerged upon a quiet, sunlit terrace…

…only to run right into a tall man in white.

It hadn’t taken you long to figure out that you’d plowed headlong into the king himself – quite embarrassing that. In fact, you were so mortified that you were sure you would die of it on the spot, even as you apologized profusely with the deepest curtsey you could manage on weak legs.

To your surprise, however, not even the slightest admonishment came from him. Instead, he chuckled, the sound muffled by the mask he wore. That caused you to look up, still frozen in your curtsey, and that was when you saw the bluest eyes you’d ever seen in your life looking back at you, their squinted corners evidence of a smile behind the almost-angelic visage of silver.

You smiled back nervously, at which point he bid you to rise, assuring you that you had done nothing wrong. An awkward introduction followed, during which you admitted that curiosity had gotten the better of you, and you praised the well-kept grounds and the lovely accommodations you’d been given…

As it so happened, however, he already knew precisely who you were from your name alone – where you were from and why you’d come to Jerusalem. Whether he had gleaned this information from spies or the rumor mill of the court, you weren’t certain, but the more he spoke, the more difficult it became to keep the flabbergasted look off your face. And along with that astonishment came the slightest bit of fear – if he knew this much about you, how much did everyone else know?

Despite your best efforts, though, you must have been unable to keep your face expressionless, as that was when he had invited you to his chambers to speak further in private.

To say you were surprised by such an offer was something of an understatement; it was the last thing you expected to hear after what had just transpired between you, especially from a king to a freshly-acquainted subject. And yet you found yourself quite unable to decline even out of modesty. For one thing, declining the offer of a king seemed most imprudent, and for another…

…well, you were actually rather curious about His Majesty, unwilling to end the encounter just yet.

So you followed him, marveling at him all the while. You knew he was a leper – that was something you’d been informed of before you’d departed for the Holy City – but that didn’t frighten you. You had seen lepers where you were from, and they hadn’t frightened you, either. You also knew the mask was meant to hide the deformities beneath. In fact, it was the presence of that mask that had led you to guess the identity of its owner before it was ever confirmed by his lips – it was a symbol as powerful as a crown. None of that was what had drawn your curiosity; you were motivated neither by morbid fascination nor a sense of pity.

No, it was his astonishingly-welcoming demeanor that had you almost spellbound. The easy willingness to listen and to forgive. The quiet, yet poised decorum. You’d known men and women alike with rank much lesser than his who possessed a cold and domineering manner that was immediately off-putting to almost everyone around them. Yet here was the king of this realm, conversing politely with a lady who had merely lost her way.

Already you had learned volumes about his character, and he’d barely spoken at all.

He had posted guards, you noted, but they kept their eyes straight ahead as you passed them, following King Baldwin into his private quarters. It was a mighty struggle, but you managed to resist the urge to succumb to the eye-wandering that had gotten you into this situation to begin with. Instead, with the same discipline of his guardsmen, you glued your gaze to his back, occupying yourself by mentally tracing the subtle patterns in his coat of white damask silk.

Ultimately, he offered you a seat, and as you accepted with another curtsey, he sat himself a respectable distance away, only the slightest stiffness of his limbs betraying his condition as he settled into the chair opposite you. In fact, you could imagine he occupied his throne in much the same manner as he leaned back, both white-gloved hands curving over the ends of its arms. A servant, unbidden, came forth out of the shadows with a fresh cup of wine, which you took with a polite nod. The man then retreated as quietly as he had arrived, disappearing beyond sheer curtains of pale fabric.

And then, you talked.

It was mostly he who asked the questions, and you answered them as best as you were able; you weren’t brave enough to ask him much of anything, and so you settled for what small bits of information he voluntarily divulged over the course of your conversation. All in all, it was a relatively light discussion. He mostly inquired about your homeland and of your journey – of whether you had experienced any hardships or had witnessed anything of interest on your way to the Holy City, and if you had troubles acclimating to Jerusalem. It was during this exchange that you revealed the caravan’s run-in with thieves… how they had stolen what small bit of jewelry you possessed, sneaking in and out of the tents of the pilgrims and vanishing into the desert night before anyone could catch them.

You only offhandedly mentioned the brooch as the one piece you had any sentimental attachment to. In all honesty, you weren’t even sure if he had been listening at that point, as he had closed his eyes for a long time. You thought perhaps he might even have fallen asleep for a moment; if so, you couldn’t blame him, as you knew his condition was exhausting – you couldn’t imagine dealing with it on top of everything else expected of a king.

It was also quite possible that you were boring the poor man out of his mind with your lengthy and rambling answers, and he was simply too polite to cut you off.

Yet if what your gut was telling you was right, then he had indeed been listening, and far more closely than you could ever have realized…

You hadn’t known, however, at the time. Instead, you’d felt increasingly self-conscious as his eyes opened again, their gaze meeting yours with a piercing stare. Truly, it was as if he was looking through you rather than at you as you turned the conversation to lighter matters – mostly all the wonderful sights you’d seen since arriving in the Holy Land, especially Jerusalem itself. Your observations seemed to please him, and he voiced his gladness that you were, for the most part, enjoying yourself. You’d thanked him for his hospitality, and it wasn’t long after that the discussion ended, king and subject cordially parting ways with nod and curtsey.

Little did you know that one meeting would soon turn into two. Then three. Then more.

Somehow, a few days after your unexpected first encounter, you ran into him again in the garden – though, thankfully, not literally this time. After exchanging a few pleasantries, he once more invited you to further conversation in private, and again you accepted. This time, he inquired if you knew the game of chess, and to your surprise (and secret amusement) he appeared rather pleased when you affirmed that you did. He then promptly challenged you to a match, to which you heartily agreed. Yet even though you were handily beaten, it was an enjoyable game, and you found yourself acquiescing to a future rematch.

It wasn’t long before these games became almost a routine part of your afternoon, save for the days when His Majesty was busy with his council or holding court. And it was during the course of these games that you realized just how lonely he must have been. For the more games you shared, the fewer of them were seen to completion; far more time was spent talking with the board sitting untouched between you than it was actually playing.

He never kept you longer than you desired to stay, and certainly never more than was appropriate for an unmarried lady such as yourself. In fact, he seemed to leave the coming and going mostly to you. Yet you didn’t fail to notice the way his eyes lit up when he saw you, their corners crinkling with a smile you couldn’t otherwise see. It broke your heart that he spent so much of his days, outside his duties, in near-isolation, when he was such a thoughtful, inquisitive, and intelligent soul… such a joy to converse with. And so you’d been sure to praise these qualities amongst your fellow courtiers whenever the chance arose…

It had only just occurred to you in the middle of a recent sleepless night that the reasons behind your persistent compliments might have run a bit deeper than the simple desire to keep his spirit alive in the court he barely saw.

You couldn’t deny the way your heart sped up when your eyes met – those eyes that you couldn’t quite decide were more like the sea or the sky. And it wasn’t just the content of his speech you enjoyed, but the way he delivered it… with a voice that was so easy to listen to for hours on end, so reflective of his serene and introspective nature.

And then there were the times, when he accidentally fumbled the pieces, that your fingers and his gloved ones nearly touched. When you both reached for the fallen pawn only for one of you to swiftly withdraw, each time followed by a soft chuckle. But you couldn’t ignore the sensation that charged the atmosphere, like the feeling that permeated the air just before a storm, and your heartbeat was the warning thunder in your ears…

You shook your head, your thoughts returning to the present as you rubbed your thumb over the brooch’s smooth gem. It was then that the tiniest doubt began to tickle and nag at the back of your mind. What if it wasn’t him at all? What if it was merely a coincidence? Something your heart foolishly yearned for, but that your mind knew well would never happen?

A frown pulled at your lips. Baldwin had proven to be someone to whom you could speak about almost anything without fear of reprisal. Nothing you had confided in him had ever escaped the bounds of his chamber – and there was plenty you had discussed, especially lately. Even if he hadn’t sent this jewel, you could trust him to advise you with wisdom. And despite his relative absence from court, there was no one who knew its members better…

By the time your handmaid returned to help you prepare for the evening, you’d made up your mind.

“I shall wear the blue bliaut tonight. To match this lovely brooch.”

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Even past the bandages of thin linen and the silken veil covering his ears, Baldwin could still hear the distant strains of music floating through the palace’s long and lonely corridors… the latest in Sibylla’s efforts to keep the place lively even as its king slowly wasted away, out of sight and out of mind.

He could have made a surprise appearance, he supposed. He did that on occasion, whenever he felt particularly energetic, much to his physicians’ chagrin. It was mildly intriguing to see what kind of looks he would receive and from whom– though by this point, those expressions and their bearers had become almost boringly predictable. Fear and awe were ever present, manifesting in the form of slackened jaws and widened eyes and hushed whispers behind hands and veils. Rarer looks of disgust and revulsion were always quickly covered by feigned indifference. Then there were those especially-bold souls who dared to reveal their open contempt in their thinned lips and narrowed eyes.

It was pity, however, that he despised the most.

Dread, loathing, hatred – these were all traits with which any monarch could be clothed whether they wished to or not. Such was the burden of leadership. But pity…

Pity was a mantle that was distinctly his to wear.

Every time he saw it in the faces of those who looked upon him, he was reminded that his crown was secondary to his condition. That they saw the Leper before they saw the King. It was not that he lacked appreciation for those who truly worried for his health and his well-being, but in their eyes he saw reflected back at him what he tried desperately to ignore from the moment his physicians departed in the morning until they returned at night to dress his wounds.

The corner of his mouth twitched beneath his mask, and his quill stilled, poised for a moment in the one hand of his that still had life in it before he reached to return the pen to its stand.

Lady Y/N had never looked at him that way.

Sitting back in his chair, he wondered if she was enjoying herself this night. If Sibylla was hosting her well. He hoped that she was, and that his sister had not overwhelmed the poor girl with her almost shamefully lavish tastes. It was evident that Y/N was quite unused to Jerusalem’s abundance in almost every respect; those first few days after her arrival at court, her wide-eyed wonder had rendered her speechless on more than one occasion, or so he’d heard.

A light hum escaped him at the memory of their first meeting. It seemed as though it was forever ago, and yet, at the same time, it felt as if it were only yesterday.

She had been rather distracted, he recalled… so distracted, in fact, that she hadn’t seen him in the corridors, watching as she’d unwittingly wandered into the realm of the royal apartments. With great accuracy, he’d anticipated the trajectory of her meandering steps, and he purposefully made to intercept her before she breached the threshold of what the guards deemed acceptable, even for a lost lady.

Baldwin wasn’t quite as quick as he used to be, though, in part due to that damned dragging foot of his, and he’d neglected to account for his reduction in speed, resulting in an unfortunate collision on the terrace above the gardens.

Or perhaps, he thought in hindsight, it was fortunate after all…

He’d heard enough from his informants to guess who she was. Tiberias and others amongst his court might have suspected she was an assassin simply playing the part of a lost newcomer, and he had to admit that the thought had crossed his own mind, if briefly; in a world such as theirs, it was difficult to imagine anyone without some kind of ulterior motive. Yet it soon became apparent that she was as innocent as the day was long – if there was anything his disease had given him, it was experience reading tone and body language, and he wasn’t certain the best actress in the world could have feigned her level of self-conscious nervousness.

No, Y/N was simply curious and lost. And from what those same informants had told him, she was in desperate need of someone local she could trust. Though evidently satisfied with her new home in every other way, she had been slow to acclimate to the social environment of the court, preferring to keep to herself whenever possible. From this, he suspected her need to get away from the appraising gazes of total strangers was what had initially propelled her away from the great hall, and her natural inquisitiveness had continued to pull her into the quieter depths of the palace.

But the faint smile she’d worn and the sparkle in her eyes had been replaced with fear the instant she realized who she’d run into, and the stuttering apology and low curtsey she’d given him betrayed her anticipation of reprimand.

That was something he’d had to correct, and quickly.

In the moments that followed, he’d gauged it most appropriate for them to smooth over this encounter by getting to know each other better, and thus he’d invited her to do just that in the privacy of his quarters, where they would face little chance of interruption.

As he’d hoped, she’d accepted. And it was this first conversation of theirs that had led him to believe that Lady Y/N was terribly lonely.

Her chatter was slightly nervous and yet, at the same time, somewhat eager. There was little doubt that he’d learned far more about her than she had about him; with but a little coaxing, he had discovered much about her circumstances and about what plagued her. It had displeased him greatly to hear about the thieves that had raided her entourage’s tents on the way to the Holy City, and it irked him even more that she’d lost a treasured possession because of it. Her journey had already been a long and arduous one – had that not been enough?

Y/N put up a rather convincing façade of indifference on the matter, but when he focused on her voice alone, he heard her pain. No, she was no actress, he concluded.

He also hadn’t failed to notice her willingness to make eye contact with him… to look him full in the face and speak freely with every question he asked; she dodged neither query nor gaze. Outside her initial fright on the balcony, she displayed few other signs of trepidation regarding his presence. In fact, it seemed as though she’d just been waiting for someone with whom she could share her thoughts and feelings – as if she’d bottled up everything he’d asked about since arriving in Jerusalem and finally found someone willing to listen.

Had she truly felt so comfortable with him already, or was she simply a trusting soul? He was unaccustomed to both, and it was… refreshing.

His instincts warned him that the jackals of the court would surely eat her alive, and he feared what their viciousness might do to her. What kind of slander and gossip would come from what had been innocent curiosity on her part. How much her character would be maligned for sport. The very thought of it being a possibility made his blood boil.

Over the course of their subsequent conversations, however, he was forced to rethink that initial assumption. Kind-hearted she was, and still too good for the likes of her peers, but she could hold her own among them better than he had anticipated; a few casual inquiries over a few chess matches revealed that much. She saw, heard, and understood far more than her outward appearance would suggest. Behind that warm, gentle, and charmingly-inquisitive exterior was a clever and tenacious woman whom he found to be utterly captivating. No matter the storm around her, she always projected an air of geniality and good cheer, evidently determined not to let this unsettled world tear her down.

In short, the court didn’t deserve her.

He didn’t deserve her.

She never asked him for anything, and likewise she didn’t press questions upon him about his condition. Whenever they passed time together, he felt like neither king nor leper, but like an ordinary man. In her sparkling eyes and healing presence, he saw not pity, but life. A normal life for once. One where he did not have to dread what the next morning might bring.

Alas, that glorious feeling of contentment left him with her every departure.

The sound of exuberant cheers down the corridor pulled him from his musings, and he found himself back in the relative darkness of his chambers, watching the candle’s flame flicker upon his desk. He wondered which dance it was they’d just finished, imagining Y/N in his mind’s eye moving as hypnotically as that very flame. If she danced as beautifully as he envisioned, she would have the whole court entranced…

“Sire, you have a request for an audience.”

The guard called from the entrance to his quarters.

“Who is it?” he asked, hope, dread, and fear all churning in his stomach in a toxic maelstrom. He hadn’t the patience or the energy to deal with most petitioners this night, other than-

“Lady Y/N.”

His eyes widened.

That was quick.

Hope surged forth at the mention of her name, but neither dread nor fear was eliminated by this revelation. Not completely. He had a feeling the gifting of the brooch he’d commissioned would bring her to him sooner or later, but he hadn’t anticipated it being that very day, and especially not with the festivities Sibylla had planned…

Perhaps it is not that, he reminded himself solemnly, but something else altogether.

“I will see her,” he called back at last. “Let her pass.”

There were precious few seconds for him to compose himself before he saw her, at first a shadow at the entrance to his chambers, and then illuminated by lamp and candlelight as she cautiously strode forth. His breath caught in his lungs at the sight of her, her eyes glittering like stars from all those dancing fires. She wore the most beautiful court dress he’d ever seen her in – a sapphire-blue silk bliaut, laced tight at the sides to flatter her form, seemingly a thousand shimmering pleats flowing from her hips to the floor. At her waist had been tied a fabric belt of lighter blue, embroidered in gold, double-wrapped about her body and knotted in front in Frankish style. Her belled sleeves, with their golden trim, allowed only a glimpse of her stark white chemise beneath, and there, upon that same trim that adorned the dress’s wide neckline, had been pinned the brooch, pulling the dipping V above her heart into an elegant keyhole.

“Your Majesty,” she greeted him with a curtsey, offering a smile that shot straight to his heart. “I hope I haven’t come at an inopportune time.”

“Not at all,” he gestured for her to rise, turning in his seat to fully face her, “although I would have expected you to be at my sister’s gathering.”

Another smile. “I was, in fact. Alas, I felt the need to speak with you on a matter of great import. I hope Her Highness can forgive me for my early departure.”

The king nodded once. “I am all but certain she will. I am, however, glad you were at least able to make an appearance,” he remarked as he slowly rose from his chair, stifling a groan that threatened to escape him from his aching limbs. Then, pausing, he tilted his head as he allowed himself to take in her attire once more. “You look lovely. It would have been a shame to have wasted such beauty on my poor eyes alone; better indeed that you allowed others with keener sight the chance to appreciate your taste and talents before slipping away to these dark and distant halls.”

Even in the low candlelight, he could see her cheeks flush, and as her gaze briefly flicked away from his, he felt his twisted lips pull into an unseen smile.

“You are too kind, my lord,” she replied. “In truth, I found myself… inspired… by this new jewel I received just this afternoon.” Her fingers drifted to that very piece, pinned above her heart, and Baldwin forced himself to school his gaze… to pretend he hadn’t been the one to write up the specifics of its creation for the royal jeweler… that he hadn’t entrusted it to Tiberias to give to a capable courier… that he hadn’t prayed to God he hadn’t made an irreversible mistake by daring to tread on this unknown path.

“Do you like it?” she asked suddenly, her eyes meeting his. “Believe it or not, it is, in fact, the subject of my concern.”

Something in both her gaze and her tone told him she’d made the assumption he wished. Good. He had no desire to drag this out; indeed, hadn’t the time for it. And now that she was here, following the lead he’d purposefully fashioned, his only task was to find out if Tiberias was truly right about her and her feelings…

Swallowing back where his heart had gathered in his throat, he replied coolly, “Yes, it suits you. Although, I am uncertain as to why you would approach me for such an opinion,” he added with a chuckle, slightly bemused at the way she was choosing to approach this mystery. Indicating the chess table where they’d held so many conversations of late, he beckoned, “Come. Sit.”

Wordlessly, she acquiesced, dipping her head before moving to take her usual place, as he did his.

“I…” she began after a moment, her stare focused on one of the pieces as he settled himself opposite her. “Well, the truth is, I was hoping I could ask you for advice in a matter related to it. Regarding the one who sent it to me, in fact.”

“Yes?” he prompted as he watched her. Time to confirm that assumption.

“Well, you see… I don’t really know who sent it…”

His eyes met hers, squinting a little. “You don’t?” he asked, keeping the skepticism from his tone as he began to pull her thoughts from her.

“No.” She shook her head. “There was no name on the note that accompanied it, so I cannot know for certain who might have sent it. But,” yet another smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, her eyes sparkling again as she leaned forth and propped her elbows on the edge of the table, “I do have an idea, and I was hoping perhaps I might pass my thoughts by you. You know a great many in your court, after all. Perhaps you could confirm or deny my suspicions?”

Oh yes, she knew. He knew she knew. And now she played with him as much as he with her, both seeking confession…

“Perhaps I could,” he answered musingly. “What are your thoughts, then, Lady Y/N?”

“Well,” she began, dropping her gaze to the pieces once more, her fingertips toying with the white king, “I was just thinking of how appropriate such a gift was. Indeed, the person who sent it must know me rather well. It appeals so much to my tastes and is so fitting given recent events.”

His heart felt like it was about to beat itself out of his chest. “How fortuitous.”

“My thoughts precisely,” she agreed, glancing up at him. “And of those whom I’ve spent the most time with, there are few who would know me in such a manner.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

She paused, and he felt her eyes studying him intensely. “In fact, there is only one man who would have known just how fortuitous it was. Only one who would have known I would have need of such a piece. Now,” she leaned back a little, offering him a pointed look, “I do realize that brooches are popular as courting gifts,” she paused, her gaze latching to his, “but even so, I find the choice rather… convenient. Don’t you, my lord?”

“Yes,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I understand your meaning.”

Deafening silence stretched between them during which neither of them moved.

“Only one man,” she repeated, her own voice having gone quiet, and Baldwin saw her eyes glimmer in the lamplight. Before he could even open his mouth to offer another comment, she leaned forward again, her gaze burning a hole through him. “Only one man who bothered to know me. To know my heart. To care for me and my life enough to remember what I held dear.” He saw her swallow heavily. “You, my king. You sent it to me, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he breathed, nodding once in affirmation.

“Do you mean it?”

Her question was barely a whisper, yet Baldwin felt it in his heart – a probing inquiry seeking out the truth of his intentions.

His blood was rushing in his ears. “Every word, written and unwritten.”

And with that final admission everything was confirmed on his part. But as for hers…

The tears were obvious in her eyes now, pooling at the edges of her lashes. In that moment, he was sure he understood how the condemned felt just before the stroke of the headsman’s axe, before the tightening of the hangman’s noose. What would her answer be, then? He knew in his heart it would be better for her to simply walk away. But would she? Would she willingly doom herself to heartbreak?

At last Y/N spoke once more, her voice a tremulous whisper, and he hung upon every word as though his very life depended on it.

“I know this cannot be a courtship in the traditional sense,” she began softly, her liquid stare never leaving his, “and I know what the others will say…”

He began to feel lightheaded. At this rate, he was going to faint before he could hear her answer in full.

“…but I don’t care. For as long as there is life left in both of us, my king, I am yours. In whatever capacity you desire.”

“Oh.”

The word left him on a whoosh of breath, hissing behind his mask as relief washed over him in a powerful wave, every muscle in his body relaxing at once. Yet he couldn’t help the warped smile that overtook his countenance behind that façade of silver at the implications of her words.

She…?

“Yes,” she said with a nod, as if hearing the question his thoughts posed. A soft laugh followed, even as a shimmering tear slowly tracked down her cheek. “I love you, Baldwin. With all my heart. And I have since the day we met.”

At that, then, there was no longer any question of her feelings. He felt his own eyes welling with emotion, and he leaned towards her as close as he dared, propping his good hand on the table for support. “I regret that I will never be able to show you the extent of my own for you, my dear Lady Y/N. But understand this…” he paused, swallowing heavily. “My purest devotion has and always will belong to you. As much as a wretch such as I can be, I, too, am yours.”

She shook her head. “You are no wretch. Not to me.”

It was then her hand slowly moved towards where his gloved one yet lay on the table’s polished surface, and he flinched, a spike of fear darting through him like the bolt from a crossbow. “Y/N, no…”

Her gaze bored into his, her hand yet poised above his own. “I’m not afraid, my lord.”

“Y/N… please…”

The word was barely a whisper, slipping between the slightly-parted lips of his mask before he could catch it – a cry for her to stop and yet a plea for her not to. It was as if he had been paralyzed, unable to move away despite every corner of his mind screaming at him to withdraw.

If the glove was not enough… if it couldn’t safeguard her…

And yet all thoughts of everything came to a halt the moment her fingers lightly grazed his own, his breath catching in his throat. He felt it – the warmth of her through the thin silk – and it took all of his strength not to flinch away from her again, to curl his hand into a fist and recoil in upon himself to protect her from his horrid disease. Her eyes searched his, seemingly sifting through his soul as further she went. Slowly. Steadily. Her fingertips brushed with a feather-light touch over each set of knuckles, back and forth, and he couldn’t breathe. His lungs were desperate for air as she traced the delicate golden embroidery on the back of his hand; they finally betrayed him then, a shuddering exhale followed by a hitched intake of air he was certain she heard.

Yet Y/N only smiled at him once more, in that warm and gentle way of hers, her hand stilling as it rested atop his. And the entire world stilled along with it, his fear slowly ebbing as reason returned to replace it. These touches were all they had, he realized. All they could permit themselves. And yet still they could hold all the tenderness of a kiss.

Speaking of which…

He moved much more gently, then, as he twisted his hand underneath hers to catch her fingers in his grip. His gaze holding hers, he stroked his thumb across her knuckles before bringing that hand to his mask, where the cold and unfeeling lips touched the back of it in place of his own disfigured ones.

Despite not being able to give her a proper kiss, though, she evidently still understood the gesture, as another blush flushed her cheeks. A soft chuckle escaped him, and he remarked dryly, “There appears to be a bit of an obstacle here…”

At that, uncontrollable laughter burst from her, merry and full, and she clamped her other hand over her mouth to muffle it, leaning against the back of the chair as she continued to shake. He, too, laughed softly at her merriment, and for a moment the sound filled the room with a kind of joy it hadn’t witnessed in years.

After a moment, Y/N finally recovered, and she glanced over her shoulder as the faint strains of another song could be heard. Her gaze glittering with stars, both hands grasped his now and gently tugged as she stood. “Come. Dance with me.”

He blinked even as he slowly rose before her. “I… fear I’m not capable of much these days…”

“Not to worry,” she assured him with a grin, “I’ve just the dance in mind. Like this…”

With that, she pulled him to the open floor at the center of his chambers and began to show him the steps – two sidesteps here, two sidesteps there, a slow twirl of the lady in his arms, and begin again. For the first few cycles, she counted quietly until he caught the rhythm, and then there was only a warm, comfortable silence between them, the two gently swaying and turning to the distant music.

Tiberias was right. In that moment, Baldwin knew only happiness. Peace. Comfort. And so long as Y/N, too, felt these things, he could be content with whatever God had willed for him. He could only pray that, upon his death, the Almighty would be merciful to this woman, a living angel on Earth…

================================================

If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! If you want more of my writing, I also have a WIP Baldwin-centric longfic posted on Ao3 (shameless plug)! 😁Do let me know if you want me to continue this Y/N story! I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Also, the dance mentioned at the end of the story was inspired by this lovely one:

[pepsiboyy]

idk if you take fic requests! but maybe a fic based off of Greek God by Conan Gray. like Matt or Chris pretend they don’t like yn where they’re around their sport (whatever sport, you choose!) friends. they all have a really high ego and are cocky. but there’s a tension between M/C and yn bc they used to be friends until M/C got popular but yn didn’t so now they’re not friends cuz M/C let his popularity status get to him. but they sometimes speak on the down low (M/C doesn’t wanna be seen talking to yn) they’re families are family friends which is why they’re technically forced to still talk every once in a while. but eventually the tension gets too intense, and well, M/C can’t handle it anymore and it ends up turning into a childhood friends to enemies to lovers type story 🤭 ALSO, YN STANDS HER GROUND AND DOESNT LET M/C GET HER THAT EASILY, SHES NOT JUST GONNA FALL FOR HIM INSTANTLY CUZ HE FINALLY STARTS PAYING ATTENTION TO HER!! thanks!!

GREEK GOD.

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader summary: just read the request :p warnings: cursing, mentioned of alcohol, being drunk, use of y/n lol, angst (resolved sorta) a/n: THANK U SO MUCH FOR THIS REQUEST!!! i hope it's what you were looking for, i spent a lot of time trying to make this work :") thank you so much for the request!!

i stood at the edge of the ice rink, my hands clasping together with high hopes.

i came to cheer on matt and chris, with nick seated beside me as he scrolled through instagram and snacked on some chips that he brought.

nick was my best friend, without a doubt. i told him everything. matt was one of my comfort friends. someone i didn't talk to as often as nick, but enough to where i feel fully comfortable talking to him about whatever may happen. chris, on the other hand...

chris was chris.

it was hard to describe the dynamic the two of us shared.

chris and i actually used to be closer than me and nick, or anyone, honestly.

he would pick me up when i fell, give me some of his snacks and even a sip of his pepsi if i wanted. he would reassure me when i felt low, and even put me in my place if he knew i was out of line.

before we knew it, high school rolled around. freshman year was relatively normal, sophomore year too.

junior year he started making newer friends, but he also had a different lunch period from the rest of us. i'd only really see him when matt gave me rides home.

senior year rolled around, and chris was a changed person. ever since he made it to the varsity hockey team with his new friends, he changed. he claims it's because we "grew apart" but we didn't. he goes out of his way to make me look bad in front of his friends, or even act like he has no idea who i am. it kind of made me feel stupid.

matt being on varsity with him didn't help his case at all, either.

so, when i came to watch them play, nick would sit with me and i would cheer on them both, even if chris pretended to hate me.

so, here i am. standing at the edge of the rink with nick, who was now standing beside me as we watched the two we knew and loved. matt effortlessly weaving past a defender, sending the puck flying towards chris, who sent it into the goal and made it.

the sound of skates cutting through ice was sharp in my ears, and the bright arena lights cast a glow over everyone while each and every cheer echoed in the cold air.

i remember when we all used to skate together freshman year here, the arena empty and our arms all linked together because i couldn't skate for the life of me, on matter how bad i tried.

those days felt like a lifetime ago now.

you had all grown a lot since then.

apart, apparently.

"hey, y/n, what are you doin' here?" a boy from the team questioned, skating to the glass with a cocky grin. "came to see the champ?" he asked, referring to chris.

i rolled my eyes and crossed my arms, allowing my eyes to trail elsewhere. "just here to support my friends." i mumbled.

chris glanced over, his expression neutral, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes - guilt, maybe, or recognition of the unspoken tension between them. before i could look away, he turned back to his friends, laughing at some joke i couldn't hear.

i sighed and took a seat beside nick again, letting out a soft hum as i did. the familiar sting of hurt and anger was beginning to get to me.

the memory of chris and i being inseparable, chris changing, chris making fun of me to his friends, all of it. it hurt. popularity inflated his ego, and i always refused to be an admirer in his little fan club.

after the game, i found myself lingering near the exit of the rink. i typically waited for the crowd to die and the traffic to slow down before leaving. it was too busy for me.

the locker room door swung open, and out poured the hockey team that was riding out the high of their win. chris was among them, laughing loudly and tossing his hockey stick over his shoulder. we met eyes for a moment, and his smile seemed to falter. until he leaned to a friend of his and nudged them, mumbling something to make them both laugh.

"hey, y/n!" chris called out. "didn't think you'd stick around here. still obsessed with me or what?"

i stared at chris with a deadpanned expression. "stop getting me to stroke your ego, christopher." i bit back, trying to keep my voice steady.

this shit was annoying, really.

chris's friends snickered, and he shrugged it off, turning away as if i were nothing more than an afterthought to him. "whatever. let's get out of here."

the group moved past me, their laughter seeming to echo in the hallway. i felt a lump form in my throat, but i refused to let anyone see me get upset over something to miniscule.

i knew this version of chris was a facade, but that didn't really make it hurt any less. the boy i once loved and cared for deeply was now buried under layers of arrogance and bravado, and i wasn't about to let him off the hook so easily.

the crowd began to die down, so i gathered myself and pushed out of the door, making my way towards my car.

as i walked towards the car, i saw chris again, this time with his brothers as they leaned against their minivan and talked about the game together.

for a moment, chris looked up, and our eyes met. there was a flicker of something in his gaze - regret, maybe, or a silent apology - but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

he mumbled something to his brothers before he kicked off and made his way towards me.

"need a ride home? matt can take you." his tone was casual, but strained.

i stared at chris for a moment in disbelief, before quickly shaking my head and sighing. "no thanks. i can manage."

chris opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it, looking away. the silence between us stretched, and it filled with all the things left unsaid.

and with that, i turned on my heel and began walking home.

saturday. the days where the sturniolo household invited me for dinner were so much fun, genuinely. they were an amazing family. and chris typically acted normal around her when she was invited over.

i pulled into the driveway of their home, smiling softly to myself as i turned the music down. i pulled down the mirror and fixed my hand, humming to myself before taking my keys.

i was wearing something pretty cozy, just a crewneck and some bleached jeans and converse. they were like my second family, no need to get fancy.

i knocked on the door, where matt answered and pulled me into a hug of greeting. "hi, y/n," he breathed and smiled softly before leading me further into their home, where i was met with nick, marylou, their mother, and jimmy, their father.

"where's chris?" i questioned, the words falling from my lips faster than i could stop them.

nick exchanged a look with matt before he shrugged. "not sure, he just said he was going to some hockey party for their win last night."

i scoffed and nodded, taking a seat in my usual spot between nick and marylou.

the empty chair across from me was honestly quite intimidating. more than it would have been if chris were there.

chris was always the one with crazy stories and conversation topics.

we sat in a comfortable silence, though, which i'm sure nick and matt enjoyed as they listen to chris every day of their lives.

"you're still goin' to their hockey games and cheerin' em on?"

marylou questioned, and i turned to her and smiled. "yeah, they're really great, actually." i smiled softly, and marylou nodded.

"i know chris has been on a bit of an ego train, i hope he's still been kind to you guys." jimmy mumbled softly.

i swallowed and rubbed the back of my head. "yeah, he's been great, actually." i lied.

nick and matt stared at me, but decided not to question it before continuing their meal.

but then my phone began to ring, and everyone's attention shifted to me.

"i'm so sorry," i quickly mumbled as i removed it from my pocket and immediately felt every bit of air in my lungs leave.

why is chris calling me?

i rose to my feet and held up a finger, chuckling nervously. "i'm gonna take this," i mumbled quickly.

i made my way down the hall and to the front room. "hello?" i questioned softly.

"y/n/n," chris slurred on the other end. "i- i'm at a party, and.." he trailed off before giggling to himself, "i might.. need a ride home," he mumbled.

i sighed, rubbing my temple in annoyance. "where are you?"

chris mumbled an address, hardly coherent. "can you... can you come get me? please?"

i sighed to myself. "why can't you get matt or nick or something?"

"they'll get pissed," he stated, a little clearer than the rest of his sentences. "i don't want them to worry about me." chris struggled to get the word worry out of his system, making me crack a slight smile.

"fine," i stated as i fixed myself, "stay put. i'll be there soon."

i hung up the phone and made my way back to the dining room, where everyone collectively turned to me.

"everything alright?" nick asked, and i quickly nodded.

"everything's good, i do have to go, though. i'm so sorry you guys. i'll make it up to you?" i smiled. "i just, um.. have to run."

they all exchanged looks before nodding and bidding me farewell, nick walking me out.

i sat in my car and typed the address into my phone, rubbing my forehead.

i didn't enjoy parties. they were loud, sweaty, gross and full of annoying ass kids. usually.

and as i pulled up, it was just that. a typical high school party scene - loud music, teenagers spilling out onto the lawn, and the faint smell of alcohol and weed in the air. i found chris on the footsteps, his head buried in his hands. i quickly made my way towards him after parking and kneeled down in front of him.

"come on, let's get you home." i said, helping him to his feet.

chris leaned on my heavily as we made our way to my car. i buckled him in and got into the driver's sear, the tension between us palpable in the confined space. as i drove, chris mumbled some incoherent words, his head lolling against the window.

"y/n," he suddenly said, his voice clearer but thick with emotion. "i'm sorry."

i glanced at him, eyebrows raised. "for what?"

"for everything," he continued, his eyes half-closed. "for being an ass. for ignoring you. for... for all of it."

i took a deep breath as i felt a mixture of sadness and anger bubbling within me. i gripped the steering wheel tighter, unsure of how to respond. "you're drunk, chris. you don't know what you're saying."

"no," chris insisted, reaching out and touching my arm. "i do, i've been a jerk. i miss you. i miss us."

i pulled into my own driveway, knowing chris wouldn't want to see his family like this. i would just take his phone and send them a text saying he was with a friend tonight or something.

i turned off the engine and took a deep breath. "let's get you inside."

chris stumbled out of the car, leaning on me for support the whole way to the door. i fished for my keys and unlocked the door, quickly guiding him to my living room couch.

as i laid a blanket over him, he grabbed my hand as his eyes locked with mine.

"i still care about you, y/n. i always have."

my heart pounded, but i forced a laugh, trying to deflect the intensity of the moment. "sleep it off, chris. we'll talk in the morning, okay?"

i brushed a few loose strands from his forehead and stood up, turning off the light and going to my room. my mind raced with conflicting emotions.

part of me wanted to believe his drunken confession, but another part of me was still so angry. still hurt by the way he had treated me. as i laid in bed and stared at my ceiling, i couldn't shake the feeling that things between us were far from over. and that this was just the beginning of a much more complicated story.

the sizzling of the bacon on the oven was comforting, in a way. i had an airpod in, playing some softer, but upbeat music to get me up and going for the long, long day ahead.

i turned my head upon hearing some shuffling in the kitchen, meeting eyes with chris. "morning," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"morning," i replied, placing a plate of food with bacon, eggs and sausage onto the counter in front of him. "eat up. you'll feel better."

he sat down and started eating, occasionally glancing at me as i cleaned up the kitchen. after a few minutes of awkward silence, he looked at me. "look, about last night.."

i crossed my arms and leaned against the counter. "what about it?"

chris looked down at his plate, poking at his eggs. "i meant what i said, you know. but i was drunk, and.. and maybe it didn't come out right-"

"maybe?" i questioned, my voice sharp. "you've been treating me like i don't exist for months, chris. one drunken apology doesn't fix that."

he winced at my words, but nodded. "i know, i've been an idiot. i got caught up in... everything. the team, the popularity. but that's no excuse."

"no, it's not." i stated, my anger beginning to bubble to the surface. "you think you can just waltz back into my life with a half-assed apology and everything will be fine? it doesn't work that way." i spat.

chris stood up, stepping closer. "i'm not asking for everything to be fine overnight. i'm asking for a chance to make things right."

i shook my hear, my eyes flashing with frustration. "do you even realize how much you hurt me? how it felt to be ignored, to be treated like i was nothing?"

"i do now," he said quietly. "and i'm sorry. truly. i want to make it up to you, if you'd let me."

i looked up at him, searching his eyes for any sign of insincerity. he seemed genuine, his usual bravado stripped away, leaving only the boy she used to know.

"i don't know if i can trust you," i admitted, my voice softer now.

chris reached out and took my hand in his. "i get that. and i will do whatever it takes to earn your trust back."

he pulled me into a tight hug, where i gently hugged his waist and took in his scent.

i missed this.

"just one date. give me a chance?" chris mumbled, the smile audible in his tone.

i hesitated, my mind racing. part of me wanted to say no, to protect myself from his bullshit. but another part of me remembered all of the good times.

"one date," i finally stated, my voice firm. "but this doesn't mean i'm just forgiving you, chris. you have a lot to prove."

he nodded quickly, his lips curving into a smile. "i promise i won't let you down."

i pulled away from his embrace and smiled at him before turning to the sink and doing the dishes. "you better now."

as i did the dishes, i felt a glimmer of hope mixed with lingering doubt. chris had a long way to go to earn the trust i had for him back, but for the first time in months, she felt like maybe, just maybe, things could change.

[farfromstrange]

New Year's Day | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: You recount your history with Matt and the highs and the lows of your relationship.

Warnings: Fluff, descriptive writing & lack of dialogue, mentions of blood, but this is mostly very tame

Word count: 2.5k

A/n: This One-Shot is dedicated to my bestie, @blackshadowswriter. I'm a bit late, and I'm sorry for that. It took me a bit to finish. I just want to tell you how much I love and appreciate you. I also know you love Taylor, so I thought "why not write a fic and use as many song references as possible? She's going to LOVE that!" You're my favorite person in the world and you deserve this. I love you. I'm all out of words because I'm anxious as hell about showing you this. It took me two days to finish. I wanted it to be as good as I could make it. I'm still not 100% sure, but I never am when it comes to giving gifts. I hope you like it <3 (This is also why I'm not tagging anyone else because this is a gift for my best friend and I intended it as such)

From the moment you bumped into him on the corner street of your favorite café, you knew that he was the kind of chance that would only come around once in a lifetime.

It wasn’t like you, at least not back then, to buy a stranger a coffee. And it was even less like you to give him your number afterward.

You had never been big on dating at that point in your life. You used to take things exactly the way they came to you, and dating never really seemed to fit into that narrative.

You preferred to lose yourself in your own world, a world where no one could touch or hurt you the way you’ve been hurt so many times in the past by people who claimed to care about you—people who claimed to love you, and in the process, you lost sight of the fact that there are still a handful of good people out there.

No one can blame you for thinking like that though. Your heart has been broken one too many times, and not just by broken relationships. 

Deep down, you craved to find someone capable of understanding all of you, not just the pretty parts. You almost felt pathetic for pretending you didn’t need it and still thinking that way.

But deep down, you craved to find someone who wouldn’t be afraid of sticking around, someone who would never leave you because life tends to get hard.

It seemed nearly impossible to find a person like that without breaking your own heart, so you decided to retreat into your shell. Better to keep your heart safe and protected than put yourself out there and be broken all over again, right?

Those stupid love songs on the radio and the endless romantic stories of your friends’ dating lives, however, fueled your need for the same kind of connection only a few songwriters know how to put into words.

You wanted to fall in love, find the right person, and heal. You wanted to figure out why love wasn’t like the burning red of sex and passion but golden, like daylight. A love living for. A love fighting for.

You felt so stupid, secretly pining for an innocent childhood dream that eventually got crushed after years of heartbreak, but that is what happens when someone becomes chronically lonely. You turned to daydreaming because at least in your head, your life could be perfect. Not just good, not just livable, but filled with love and happiness.

Truth be told, when you’re your own worst enemy and have an inner saboteur set out to destroy everything that could be remotely good for you because you truly believe you don’t deserve it, it’s hard to allow yourself to be open. So perhaps that is why you chose to lock yourself away and live in delusion instead. Not facing reality became standard procedure in your way of life.

You tried blaming it on your past, your broken relationships, and disappointments, and while that played a big part in your trauma, you also slowly started to realize that you might have been hurting yourself so you wouldn’t have to open up ever again.

In an attempt to erase all the problems, you became the problem. You became your worst enemy, someone chasing ghosts that stayed long in the past and only came back to haunt the living shit out of you. But that’s a survivable condition. 

You tried therapy, you tried turning your life around and starting anew, and while that helped you find a job you love, find a nice group of friends, and make peace with what’s been broken, nothing else seemed to change. 

You had barely started putting yourself back together again when you bumped into him. You were late for a meeting, so your focus was on your phone instead of the street before you.

It was your fault. He was just trying to make his way over the sidewalk, his cane tapping in a steady rhythm to make his way forward, and you stepped right in the middle of it. 

You remember him grabbing your arm, catching you before you could fall. He wasn’t even irritated. When you looked up in shame, seeing the red glasses and the came, you begged for the floor to open up and swallow you whole. 

“I’m so sorry,” you said. “I wasn’t looking. Are you okay?”

But before you could go on a rant about your stupidity, he cut you off, and in the silkiest voice possible, he said, “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. Are you?” 

“What?”

“Are you okay? You seem in a bit of a rush. Don’t want you to accidentally bump into a car next.” He chuckled, adjusting his glasses. Blood rushed to his cheeks. “That was a bad joke, sorry.”

You just about melted. “It’s okay,” you found yourself chuckling. “And so am I. I was too focused on my phone. That was my fault.”

“Don’t blame yourself. It happens,” he said. He was so calm about it, unlike other New Yorkers you’ve met before.

Maybe the fact that you found him extraordinarily attractive and easy to be around compelled you to ask if you could buy him a cup of coffee to make up for bumping into him, completely abandoning your plans to make it to your work meeting five minutes late.

He introduced himself as Matthew. A lawyer. Not one of those rich defense attorneys who simply do it for the money. No, he does it to help people, and you fell for him right then and there. 

Maybe it was fate, maybe it was destiny, or maybe it was just dumb luck, but that day, when you got home after work, his number in your phone and a stupidly giddy smile on your flushed face, you knew that you’d somehow been enchanted to meet him. 

You never believed in love at first sight until you bumped into Matt Murdock, but the second you did, your life flipped upside down and changed in ways you could have never predicted. 

It is possible that the song playing over the speakers in the café right before you bumped him played a part in how you perceived the interaction. You’ve never been one to believe in coincidences. Nothing is ever accidental, and neither was your meeting. It couldn’t have been. 

You found each other when you needed someone, anyone, both of you, and it stuck. Thankfully, it did. 

Summer that year was cruel with New York drowning in an excruciating heatwave. You’d been meeting up with Matt for a couple of weeks, but you didn’t have it in you to put a label on whatever delicate thing was starting to build between the two of you. You didn’t want to wrap your hand around it and accidentally shatter something you could see growing into something more in the future. 

He was unlike anyone you’d met before, and he treated you in a way that made you believe, finally, that you are worthy of love. Not just giving but receiving because Matt himself struggled to see his worth after years of being disappointed and being there for everyone but himself. 

Love is a fragile thing though, and you have never been quite good with fragile things.

After a night of drinking away your sorrows at a nearby bar, you made your way to his apartment. You took a cab, too wasted to find your way there by yourself. You remember that you were crying; you were miserable and loathing yourself for several reasons that didn’t even make sense to you then.

When you arrived there, you knocked on his door. You didn’t get an answer. Just as you started to turn around and make your way back outside, you could hear a thud from the other side of the door. Panic settled in. You didn’t even hesitate before you opened the door, which was surprisingly unlocked, and made your way into the dark interior of his apartment. 

Finding your blind, catholic not-boyfriend in a pool of his own blood, wearing a leather-clad suit with the horns of the devil had not been on your to-do list until that night. Reality hit you just as fast and knocked sobriety back into your senses as the adrenaline started to take over. 

He let out a grunt. Your name passed his lips. He sounded so weak, so fragile, and you just stood there, your heart pumping too much blood for your body to handle. 

“What the fuck?!” you said. You didn’t yell, you didn’t snap, you simply didn’t know how to process this information. 

You were well aware of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen parading outside at night, beating up criminals and giving them a good fright—Matt did not fit the picture you had of the guy until you saw him lying there, obviously injured. 

“It’s not what it looks like,” he said hoarsely. He tried to roll over, but the pain turned out to be too severe. 

Needless to say, he passed out on you without a proper explanation, and you somehow had to use what little you could remember from first-aid to help this bleeding mess of a man. You feared that you would lose him that night, and that was when you realized that, on top of falling for him, you didn’t care who he was, you only needed him to live.

When he woke up to you hovering over him, he groaned. “I’m sorry,” was all he said. “I’d understand if–”

“Don’t talk,” you cut him off with a finger on his lips. You wouldn’t let him push you away. Not after everything you’d been through.

He tried to sit up. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“It’s not exactly something you lead with on a first date. I get it. What I don’t get…”

“I didn’t lie,” it was his turn to cut you off. You remember looking up at him, and you heard him out. You had to. In your mind, there is an explanation for everything, and you were once again proven right at that moment.

He bared his life story to you, how he survived through tragedies no human should ever have to face. How he turned blind, how his senses heightened, and how he lost the one person he could always count on. When his father died, something changed in Matt. He tried to go straight, to do his father proud, but he couldn’t ignore this desperate need for justice forever. He felt cursed. So, he became someone who could make a difference, and not just as a lawyer.

He expected you to walk out, but you didn’t. You saw him for who he was, and you accepted him.

“I think I’m falling for you, and it scares the hell out of me,” you blurted out that night.

He stared at you, his unfocused eyes bewildered, his lips moving soundlessly as he tried to find an answer.

Just when you thought he would break your heart after putting your trust in him, he let out a shaky sigh and he kissed you.

He wasn’t ready to say it back just yet, but he spoke to you through actions that made you feel confident in what you were growing again.

You somehow already knew back then that Matt Murdock would be the man you one day would marry and spend the rest of your life with. 

The truth is, you two have been through a lot throughout your relationship. It hasn’t always been smooth sailing, but you would be lying if you said that it wasn’t worth it. 

From the moment you met him to the countless dates, sharing coffees over empty takeout containers, kissing in the rain, Daredevil, fighting over the beautiful women in his life that almost broke you, and fighting over his desperate need to push those away who only want what is good for him because he is own worst saboteur.

It all led you down a journey that turned out to be harder than expected and not at all the love story you envisioned, but it still turned out to be the best thing that has ever happened to you. He is the best thing that has ever happened to you. 

You used to run away from happiness out of fear of getting hurt, and Matt did the same. He feared to admit it, but then he met you and he finally realized that running was of no use because you were more than ready to stick around through everything. Through every disaster and heartache—through every broken bone, you stuck around.

You saw something in him from the moment you met that no one can ever take away. You got a taste of heaven from the devil himself, and even though he was darker than the sunshine you wished for in your life, you managed to find a way to bring some light into his life. 

You are sunshine, even on your worst days, and he’s midnight rain. But you love the rain. You love him. 

Your first kiss happened in the rain. He took your hand and asked you to dance, and you did. You danced to the sound of the raindrops pattering against the asphalt beneath your feet, and it was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen—Matt engulfed in the soft moonlight, his hand in yours, and a big smile on his irresistible lips. 

You want more of those nights. Even the nights you’ve had to patch him up or hold him as he broke down from all the weight he often enough carries on his shoulders, you want more of those. You want all of them.

You want him and all the strings attached to him, no matter how painful because ever since he can remember, people have walked out on Matt and hurt him in ways you can only fathom. You don’t want to be that person. 

He opened up to you. He decided to be vulnerable. He stood with you through everything and fought for you when you thought you two wouldn’t last.

He gave you his best smile and his tears, and he laughed with you every night that you waited up for him to come home safely. He quickly became the moonlight to your sun—it is a different kind of light, but it is a light that sustains you nonetheless. 

You want all of his laughter and never miss it again. You want his smiles. You want his tears. You want to spend every waking second with him. You want to miss him and welcome him back home after an agonizingly long night of worrying. You want to cheer him up in court and be his lucky charm. You want to wear his initial on a chain around your neck, in Braille, because he got it for you on your birthday. 

“I know I don’t own you,” he said to you, “but I love you. And I know you. I want you to carry me close to your heart the same way I’ll always carry you close to mine.”

And his, you are. You’re no one else’s but his, and even if that sounds a bit territorial, you don’t care. You want all of it and more because it’s Matt you’re talking about, no one else. Not a stranger but the man you love so desperately it hurts sometimes.

All the girls he loved before don’t matter because he’s got you now. You forgave him more times than he probably deserved. You held on when he barely had any strength left. In return, he has shown the same kind of devotion to you time and time again. How can you ever say no to any of that when you are so in love? 

All those memories replay in sudden flashing sequences right in front of your inner eye. You love him more than anyone has ever loved him. You pulled him out of a very dark hole. You saved his life. And he saved yours. 

As he’s kneeling in front of you now, your hand in his and clutching the small, velvety box in his other, your life passes by before your eyes. Your life alone and your life together. You recount every memory in a millisecond, too shocked to even comprehend what is happening. But it is happening. 

Matt Murdock is kneeling on the floor before you, the glitter, confetti, and sticky champagne someone spilled earlier most likely leaving a stain on his good dress pants, but he remains unwavering in his decision to open that little box and show you what he’s been hiding for a while. 

It’s a diamond ring, something he probably took months to save up for. It’s small yet elegant, and it’s staring right at you. He’s taken his glasses off to try and do the same. You would marry him with paper rings, that much is true. 

Matt says your name oh-so-softly. “Will you marry me?” Four words that stop your heart and restart it at the same time. 

He sees right through you. You see right through him. Even in your worst times, you were there for each other, and now he’s asking you to spend the rest of your life with him. Together. To give him all of your days and nights and he will give you all of his in return. He is asking you the question you’ve been wondering if he would ever ask it, and he did. 

The fireworks go off in the distance, in your stomach, everywhere. The new year has rounded the corner. People are cheering and celebrating around you, but you don’t pay attention to them. 

The clock strikes midnight and with the softest smile, you say, “Yes.” You don’t need to tell him that you would do it a million times over because he knows. He knows your heartbeat, and he knows that you would never lie to him. 

He doesn’t waste time to pull you into his arms and kiss you softly, passionately, as if both of your lives depend on it. 

It’s a bit cliché, to get proposed to on New Year’s Eve. To start the new year with the man you love and a ring on your finger. But that only means that you will still be together on New Year’s Day, and all the days after that. 

Matt chose you. You chose Matt. You chose a life together that is as unpredictable as they come, but at least you have each other to hold onto. 

And he will never be just the stranger that you bumped into in front of your favorite corner café ever again. You have him now. Maybe that was your plan all along. Maybe you are the mastermind he knows that you are. None of it was accidental. 

And now, Matt Murdock is yours. Forever and always. 

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Pink Roses [Fake Dating Trope]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Trope de Sept Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Fake Dating situation 1. Two characters pretend to date for some purpose such as social gain, only for real feelings to get involved at some point "Bucky asked you to pretend to be his girlfriend to keep his elderly sister happy. You’re just platonic friends/coworkers, what could possibly go wrong?"

Warnings: Lil’ bit of angst into a happy ending. Reader uses fem pronouns and is referred to as ‘girlfriend’. No use of y/n. Friends to lovers. Reader spends Christmas and Easter with Bucky but doesn’t necessarily celebrate them herself, but they are mentioned.

WC: 7,000 baby!!!! Kicking off the Trope De Sept event strong!

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

“Thank you for the flowers by the way, they are beautiful.” Rebecca sighed, playing with the pink petals of the roses in front of her

“Of course Rebecca,” you responded. “Bucky picked them.”

“Oh my, he has good taste. He gets you flowers right?”

“Oh…” her question caught you off guard.

Bucky had merely introduced you by name when you arrived with him to visit his sister for Christmas. You assumed he had warned her he was bringing a coworker, but she seemed to not have gotten the memo and thought your relationship with her brother was something else.

“All the time, Becca. Mom raised me right.” he said, giving you a playful wink as he did

It was a lie, but Rebecca didn’t catch on.

“See I knew my brother was a gentleman. Oh he is so lucky to have you in his life.”

You shot Bucky a curious look and he merely shrugged in response.

The reason you were there with him at all began a few days before, right before Christmas.

“Hey Bucky, just heading out. See you in the New Year!” you said, tying your scarf tightly around your neck, ready to leave the Avengers compound for the two week break from work.

“Hey yeah! Have a good winter break! You got any big plans?” he asked

“No. Keeping it quiet this year.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah I just…I got so sick of my family asking me the same thing and all my cousins flaunting engagement rings, and wedding plans, and ultrasounds, that I just don’t even bother going home for holidays anymore.”

“Oh yeah, I get it. You should meet my sister. I’m going to see her on Christmas and all she does is worry about me. She’s convinced I’m unhappy because I’m single. She literally tries to set me up with every new nurse they hire at her nursing home and I just know most of the Christmas dinner conversation is going to be asking me when I’m going to find someone nice to settle down with.”

“Oh gosh that sounds fun.” you said with a chuckle

“Hey if you don’t have any big Christmas plans, would you want to come with me? My sister loves company and we can even get takeout afterwards. You know, just so you don’t have to spend Christmas alone?”

“Bucky, that’s very sweet of you. I’d love to. Your sister sounds amazing. I can't wait to meet her.”

“Great. Yeah Rebecca’s a fun time. She’s 98 and still smart as a whip. You’ll love her!”

“Okay sounds like a plan.”

The Crown Heights Senior Living Center knew how to throw a Christmas party, with Rebecca Barnes leading the charge on the caroling group and Bucky helping her coordinate the gift exchange.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had such a fun time, with a group of octogenarians no less.

“Wow Rebecca! How did Bucky keep a pet racoon in the attic for a whole week without your mother noticing?”

“Well that old Brownstone we lived in was solid. They don’t build them like that anymore. The walls were so thick it took her a while to figure out where the scratching noises were coming from.”

“Yeah well she also got suspicious when I swiped an extra serving of her meatloaf and ran upstairs with it right after dinner.” Bucky chimed in

“Speaking of, Becs they’ll be serving your dinner soon and we’re getting hungry too.” Bucky said, standing and giving his sister a kiss on the forehead

“Darling, it was lovely to meet you.” Rebecca said to you, then turned to her brother “James, please bring your girlfriend around more often, she’s a treat.”

You and Bucky smiled at her and departed the room, making your way down the tinsel decorated hall.

“Awe, she thinks I’m your girlfriend!” you teasingly commented, playfully smacking his arm

“Yeah well, literally every time I visit, she’s trying to set me up with a new nurse they’ve hired and she’s always asking me when I’m going to find someone nice to settle down with.”

“I think it’s sweet.”

“Now when I come back to visit next week, she’s gonna ask about you and I’m gonna have to break her heart and tell her I’m still alone and destitute. I…” Bucky trailed off

“What?”

“It’s a dumb idea.”

“What is?”

“What if we… look this might be crazy but. Would you want to, you know, pretend to be my girlfriend? Just come with me to the nursing home every once in a while on like holidays and things? Just to keep my sister happy. I mean she’s 98 years old, there’s not a lot left going on in her life and I’ve literally never seen her more excited.”

“Okay. This is either going to go really well or really poorly. Either way I wanna see it. So yeah. Let’s do it.”

You saw Bucky at work nearly everyday in the New Year, exchanging pleasantries and making small talk like all coworkers do. At the beginning of February, he brought up his sister again, mentioning that she asked about you and asking if you’d like to join him to visit her again on Valentine's Day. You agreed.

Bucky gave your front door three knocks and you swung it open to greet him, still fiddling with the clasp on your necklace as you got ready.

“Hey, I’ll be ready in a few.” you said as he entered your apartment, stopping in your tracks as you noticed the bouquet he held in his metal arm.

Pink roses, just like the one’s he’d brought Rebecca at Christmas.

“Oh these are for you.” he said, noticing your gaze traveling to them

“For me? But…”

“Don’t worry I have another bouquet for Becca.” he said, pulling an identical bouquet from behind his back “But at Christmas I told her I got you flowers all the time, so I figured I actually should, you know, not be a liar.”

“Not be a… Bucky, we are quite literally about to go see her and lie to her a bunch! You know, about us.” you gestured between the two of you

Bucky laughed and shook his head.

“Fair, but why lie about one more thing? And besides, I think I owe you more than just a thank you for doing all this.”

“Fair.” you said, mimicking his tone and taking the bouquet from him

As you filled a glass vase in the sink and placed the roses in it, Bucky stepped behind you, grabbing the necklace from where you had placed it on the counter and wordlessly fastened it around your neck.

A chill ran down your spine as his fingers fiddled with the clasp, finally connecting it with the hook and pressing his palm against the back of your neck to lay it flat.

“Now I know you aren’t just spending such a romantic holiday just visiting an old lady. What are your plans? James, how are you romancing your lady today?”

You and Bucky looked at each other nervously. You hadn’t really discussed backstory or any other thing she might want to know about your relationship.

“I’ll tell you later Rebecca, don’t want to ruin any surprises!” Bucky finally spoke up, and you made a point to reach for his right hand, intertwining your fingers with his like any couple might and put on an excited look on your face for the non-existent Valentines plans. His palm was warm as he rubbed his thumb in delicate circles around your hand.

“Oh good! Well don’t let me keep you kids too long!” she exclaimed, shooing you out the door of her room

“Okay we really need to discuss more backstory and stuff before we come here. She’s asking too many questions.” he commented as you walked down the hall

“Bucky, maybe this is a bad idea. Your sister is so sweet and I feel bad lying to her like this.”

“Hey, look, she's happy because she thinks I’m happy. We can call this off if you want, but I really think it’d break her heart if I tell her we broke up. Please, just a few more visits? Just so she doesn’t think I’m totally alone.”

“But you are.”

Bucky shot you a look that you’d only ever seen when Sam got on his nerves.

You gnawed at your bottom lip and gave it some thought, Bucky’s blue eyes staring you down. “Okay. But we need to come up with more of a back story. Let’s go grab a cup of coffee and set some ground rules?”

“It’s a date.”

Your eyes went wide at the word date.

“Sorry. It’s a ‘platonic coworkers pretending to date’ not-date.” he said with a grin

“Fine, but you’re buying.”

“It’s Valentine's Day, it'd be absolutely ungentlemanly of me to not.”

The coffee shop around the corner was decorated for the occasion, with heart-shaped foil garland cascading from the ceiling and a cupid chalk drawing taking up a large portion of the menu board.

The barista topped your hot chocolate’s whipped cream with red and pink sprinkles and Bucky chuckled at the foam heart she drew into the top of his latte.

Every other table seemed to be occupied by couples, all looking gooey-eyed at each other and whispering sweet nothings across the small marble tables.

You were so busy taking in all the displays of love that Bucky had to clear his throat to get your attention, arms stretched out behind you reaching for your coat.

“Oh gosh sorry.” you said, shrugging out of it as he placed it on the hook on the wall and then pulled the wooden chair out for you to sit.

“Shit, your sister is right, you are a good boyfriend.” you said

Bucky rolled his eyes with a smirk and took his seat across from you.

“Okay.” you said, placing your palms on the table in front of you “ground rules.”

“Right, if you want to add a third to the bedroom, it has to be Sam. We made a pact a while back, it’s a long story but sorry it’s the only way...”

“Bucky!”

“Shit doll, sorry! I was kidding! I mean kind of, Sam and I did sort of agree…”

“Bucky!” you cut him off “Look if you don’t want to take this seriously, then fine I can just go and call it here. This is for you and your sister after all.”

“No, dammit I’m sorry, you’re right. Okay, go ahead.” Bucky replied

“Well we need to establish a backstory. And know a little more about each other so it doesn’t seem suspicious.”

“Okay. You go first. Ask anything you want to know about me.”

“Okay um. What’s your favorite color?”

“Really? You think what’s gonna make us not believable is whether or not you know my favorite color?” he looked at you in disbelief

“I don’t know! What else do couples know about each other?”

“Not sure. I haven’t dated regularly since 1943. It’s blue, by the way. What’s yours?” He responded

“Purple. Is that your usual coffee order?”

“In the winter, yes. In summer, I go for iced coffee.”

“Okay. Um. I guess it might be more important to have some facts about us. As a couple.”

“Right. Like what?”

“Well like where was our first kiss? Or our first date?” you asked

“In Central Park under the Cherry Blossoms. I’m romantic like that.”

“Bucky you told her we just started dating in the fall…”

“Fine, in Central Park under the orange leaves.”

“Who said I love you first?”

“You, obviously” he replied

That made you roll your eyes “Why is it obviously me?”

“Do I seem like the kind of guy to be open with his feelings?”

“No, you're the quietest on the team. It took four months of me working with the Avengers for you to return my good morning greeting everyday with even a nod of acknowledgement.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows as if to say “see I’m right”

“Fine. What’s the most romantic thing you've ever done for me?”

“Decorated your Christmas tree while you were at work.”

“I didn’t have a Christmas tree.”

“Well since all of this is pretend, let’s pretend you did.”

“Fine. While we’re on the subject, what did we get each other for the holidays?”

“I got you that necklace.” he nodded in your direction to the string of delicate pearls he helped you put on earlier. In reality, it’d been a gift you got yourself for your most recent birthday, but you were fine with the alternate story.

“Fine. I guess I got you a Frank Sinatra album for your record player.”

“How’d you know I have a record player?”

“Lucky guess.”

“Is it because I’m old?”

“I mean, yeah maybe…”

He sat back in his chair, looking thoroughly unamused.

“Since I know she’s going to ask next time you see her, what did you do to woo me on Valentine’s Day?” you asked

“Took you to a coffee shop and got you pink roses.” he gestured at the cafe around you, a proud smile on his face

“You know what, it’s actually the best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had.” you said with a grin

“See, I am good at this boyfriend thing. What else should we know?”

“What side of the bed do you sleep on?” you asked

“Trick question, neither. I sleep on the floor because of my nightmares.”

“Bucky thats…” you trailed off

“Hey, it's something my girlfriend would know.” Bucky said so casually, as if he had not opened up to you and revealed something incredibly sad and personal about himself.

“Right. Um… what else do you and Rebecca talk about? That way you can think of things to weave into conversation about us that make us seem real.”

“Honestly, we talk a lot about our childhood. She helps me remember a lot of things I’ve forgot thanks to the, ya know” he pointed to his head

You nodded in understanding.

“Anyway, like last week she told me a story I’d totally forgotten about the time Steve and I snuck into the movies and when we got caught, we pretended we didn’t speak English to avoid getting in trouble.”

You listened as Bucky shared more stories about his life in the 30s and 40s, eventually laughing so much and talking so long, the cafe employees had to ask you to leave so they could close up for the evening.

He rode the subway with you to your stop and even walked you to your door as if he were really your Valentine’s date. You felt much better about seeing Rebecca again, confident now that you and Bucky could convincably appear as a real couple after today.

By the time Easter rolled around, you’d established a solid back story and even hung out with Bucky a few times outside of your work relationship to get to know each other better. You always loved every visit with his sister and hanging out with him felt easy.

You were, however, very nervous when Mother’s Day came. You’d finally be meeting Rebecca’s children and grandchildren, all of whom loved their Uncle Bucky, but loved Rebecca even more.

“You seem nervous.” Bucky commented

You had been silent but fidgety the whole subway ride from your apartment to the nursing home. Bucky, of course, picked you up at your front door every time you met, even though it was out of his way from his place to the nursing home.

“I am.” you replied

“Why? Becs loves you. She’s excited to see you again.”

“Yes but I’m meeting everyone else and it’s making me anxious.”

“Why?”

“Because they love you and your sister a lot. I want them to like me”

“I like you so they'll like you.”

“Bucky, you’re only pretending to like me! I love your sister, but it feels a lot easier to trick one old lady than to trick a bunch of people at once into believing we’re real!”

“Okay. First, I do like you. I promise, that part is not pretend.” You know he just meant it platonically, but it still made you blush.

“Secondly,” he continued “Rebecca is the sharpest person I know, so if she’s convinced, then they will be too.”

“I’m still worried they’re gonna find out and kill me.”

“Hey” he reassured “They won’t find out and they won’t kill you and even if they try, like they’re gonna get past me.” he wiggled his metal fingers in your face.

“She hasn’t said anything right? Like she isn’t getting suspicious?”

“Doll, take a chill pill. Even if she figures it out, it’s on me not you. I’m her brother, remember?”

“I know but Bucky she’s been so sweet and nice to me and I adore her and I don’t want to let her down!”

“You won’t, now just relax.”

Rebecca’s son, Scott, had prepared a fabulous meal and as you all sat around a table in the community room of the nursing home eating, her daughter Kim gave a beautiful speech about how Rebecca taught her to be a great mom and how loved she was by the family.

Tears sprung to your eyes at just how loved and revered this woman was and how lucky you felt to know her, even if it was under the false pretense of being her brother’s girlfriend.

Bucky noticed you getting emotional and placed an arm around your back, absentmindedly rubbing circles with his hand in comfort as Kim continued to speak. You shot him a look of thanks and winked at him as you saw tears welling behind his eyes as well.

After dinner had been cleared and dessert had been served, you were locked in a pleasant conversation with Bucky’s grandniece Jenny.

“I don’t know, maybe I should change my major…”

“Well, you’re young. Lots of people take years to figure it out.” you replied

“Uh oh.” she exclaimed, pointing toward the door “Looks like you’ve got some competition.”

Bucky was standing in the hall, deep in conversation with one of the nurses, who was throwing her head back in fits of laughter at whatever he was saying to her, and playfully touching his arm.

“Well, you know Bucky, he’s just… friendly.” you shrugged it off, trying to not let the interaction bother you

Jenny gave you a quizzical look, knowing that was a bold-faced lie and Bucky was the most surly and quiet person either of you had ever met. Except around you and Rebecca, of course.

“So tell me more about your thesis,” you said, directing the conversation back and hoping to distract yourself from whatever it was Bucky was doing

The subway ride back to your apartment was mostly silent, which wasn’t abnormal for him, except all you could think about was the way that nurse was with him, and more importantly, how he was with her. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled at her, how he had leaned into her touch everytime she placed a hand on his arm, how they had talked nearly the whole afternoon.

“So David told me he and Shelby are expecting.” Bucky said, finally breaking the silence

“David and …? Oh yeah, Scott’s oldest.” you said, still mentally trying to keep all of Bucky’s nieces, nephews, and their kids straight in your mind, having just met all of them in one go today.

“Yeah. Which means Rebecca is going to be a great-grandmother.” he continued

“Oh my gosh that’s right! That’s so great! Did they tell her?”

“Yeah. She was pretty excited. Then of course, she asked me when you and I are going to start…” he said

“Oh yeah? What did you say to her?”

“Told her we’d get to it eventually. That we were still enjoying being young and in love.”

“Bucky, you’re 106…”

A smile formed across his face and he shook his head.

“You know what I meant!”

“Well we’ll never fictitiously get around to it if you for-real flirt with nurses.” you snidely commented

“Ohhh not my pretend girlfriend pretending to be jealous!” he joked back

“I’m not jealous, Bucky, I’m just trying to keep up appearances. But I don’t blame you, she was cute.”

“Yeah she was.”

“Okay serious question, what if one of us gets into a real relationship?” you asked

“Why are you planning to?”

“No, I mean I wouldn’t complain, but I don’t exactly have any great prospects right now.”

“I don’t either.”

“Um, that nurse was absolutely a prospect.” you argued back

“Doll, will you drop it with the nurse already?”

“No. Look, if you want to be for-real happy and quit lying to your sister, I think you should ask the nurse out. This has been fun, but don’t let us pretending to date hold you back from an actual relationship.”

Bucky sighed and hung his head.

“Okay. When I visit Rebecca this week, I will ask the nurse out. Just to get you off my back about it.” he conceded

“Well just be sure to add in the fact that you have prospects lined up when you tell your sister we broke up, just to soften the blow.” you joked

“Wow, you make it sound like I have women out the door, just waiting in line for me.” Bucky joked

You could if you wanted, you’re a fucking catch, is what you wanted to say, but instead just chose to lightly chuckle at Bucky’s joke.

“I think I will wait and see if the nurse says yes and if she does, see how the date goes before breaking it to my sister. And if it goes bad, at least I still have you.”

“Wow, make a girl feel more special to be your backup plan, why don’t you?” you joked

“You know what I mean! Wait, you will still keep this up for me if the nurse says no right?”

You sighed.

“Yes. I’ve actually really been having fun spending time with your sister.”

And you, you wanted to add, but again, didn't.

“But I do want you to be happy, so I will sacrifice hanging out with the coolest 98 year old I’ve ever met if it means you get a for-real girlfriend and stop being a grumpy, lonely old man.”

“Thanks doll, you’re the best.”

Things at work got hectic that week and you didn’t see Bucky until midway through the next week.

You were sitting at your computer, combing some case files when Bucky snuck up behind you.

“So things got complicated…”

“Jesus, Bucky, don’t scare me like that!” you said, practically jumping out of your seat when he spoke

“Sorry!”

“Wait, complicated how?”

“Well I asked the nurse out. And she said yes. And apparently it was the hot topic in the nursing home all weekend. And my sister asked why I was two-timing you. So I had to tell her we broke up.”

Your heart sank at the thought of not hanging out with Bucky and Rebecca anymore.

“Okay. Well, we knew that might have to happen. And the nurse?”

“Her name is Maddie, by the way. And we went out last night.”

“And?”

“It went well. She was nice and it was fun and we’re going to go out again this weekend.”

“Bucky, that’s great. I’m really happy for you.” you replied, trying to truly mean it and push your own feelings towards the situation aside.

But your mind just raced with worry about how well it actually went. Did he mean it went well like it was an agreeable evening and they talked a few hours and went their separate ways? Or did he mean it went well like she got to find out if his lips were as soft as they actually look? It went well like they hooked up and had steamy sex and she got to feel how his toned muscles felt under her hands while he brought her to ecstasy the way you’d always imagined and … no. You needed to stop. It was a bad idea to think about him that way. Especially since he now belonged to someone else, and never really belonged to you in the first place.

“Doll, I really can’t thank you enough.” Bucky spoke and broke you out of your spiraling thoughts “Rebecca had so much fun with you and you know… I think pretending to date you might have actually given me the confidence to ask Maddie out. Don’t know if I thought I could be a good real boyfriend without being a good fake one first.”

You laughed and shook your head.

“Well I’m happy to have helped. And by the way, yeah you were a phenomenal fake boyfriend. Better than most of the real ones I’ve had.”

You tried not to let the tears come to your eyes that you could feel brimming to the surface. You were just sad to say goodbye to Rebecca, that’s all. She was so special and spending time with her was a gift. It helped that Bucky was also so charming and funny, but it was absolutely just about Rebecca. Afterall, you’d still get to see Bucky at work. You wouldn’t really talk as in-depth as when you were with his sister and hanging out in service of keeping up the lie, but it would be fine.

However, much to your disappointment, it seemed like after that conversation, Bucky avoided you like you two had actually been a couple and actually broken up. He wouldn’t look you in the eye during mission briefings, wouldn’t say more than two words to you and they were always related to work, and if he ever found himself alone in a room with you, he quickly found an excuse to leave.

It had been about two months since you had “broken up” and you had given up hope of even having any sort of friendship with Bucky. But the truth was, you missed him. You missed making fun of him when he made a reference so outdated, historians wouldn’t even get it. You missed the way his smile rose more on his right side when you’d crack a joke. You missed when he’d sing along to one of Rebecca’s records and try to dance with both you and her at the same time, inevitably spinning you into each other and ending in the three of you in a fit of giggles.

You tried not to think of it though, threw yourself into work and tried to forget. But you couldn’t. Everything reminded you of him.

And you tried not to think about how much you missed him as you watched him walk onto the ramp of a quinjet, prepping to take off for a ten day mission to take down a Hydra base in Latvia.

Six days later, you were in your apartment, making your evening cup of tea when your phone rang.

You picked it up and put it down three times before finally processing that it was Bucky’s name popping up on the screen. With the time zone difference, it had to at least be three in the morning where he was.

“Bucky?” you finally answered “Is everything okay?”

“No. Doll, it’s not.”

“What happened? Are you okay? Is Sam okay? Did something go wrong?” you panicked, knowing of all the hundreds of people the Avengers employed, you were not the person to call if something went wrong with the mission.

“No, it’s Rebecca. She um…” Bucky sounded on the verge of crying and your heart broke in an instant “Kim called and Rebecca is in the hospital. I didn’t get all the details, but it’s not good.”

“Bucky, I’m so sorry.”

“Listen, I know I’ve already asked so much of you, but can you please… Can I ask you to go for me? Go see her? Sam and I are trying to wrap up as quick as we can, but I just can’t bear the thought of not being there with her and she loved you so much and I know you being there would really mean a lot to both of us.”

You had never heard Bucky ramble like that before. His voice was shaky and unsure and it broke your heart.

“Okay. Of course I can go.” you replied without hesitation. You loved Rebecca too, of course you wanted to be with her.

“Thank you. So much. Really. I’ll text you the room number and the hospital. I’ll let Kim and Scott know you’re coming too.”

“Okay.”

“And um… I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For how it’s been lately.”

“Bucky, It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. But um, we can talk more when I get back.”

“Okay. I’ll go see her now, just text me.”

You were pulling on your shoes already when Bucky’s text came through. You were out the door and to the hospital in less than twenty minutes.

Kim greeted you with a big hug when you arrived.

“Oh, she’ll be so excited to see you!” Kim said, leading you down the hall of the hospital towards Rebecca’s room “You know, she still talks about you all the time even though you two broke up a while ago.”

You tried to bite back a smile, not wanting to feel happy in such a grim situation. But knowing at least Rebecca missed your presence and made sure Bucky didn’t forget you lightened your mood just a little.

Any hint of a grin was knocked off your face as soon as you stepped in the room. Rebecca was looking quite different from when you last saw her. Usually so healthy and spry for her age, she looked frail in the thin hospital gown, laying limply in the bed in the middle of the sterile room. Her gray curls were not in their usual coiff, but unkempt and wild. Her eyes looked sallow and dull. But her beautiful smile still came through when she saw you walk into the room.

“Oh my dear!” she reached out a shaky hand toward you. “It is so good to see you!”

Her hand wrapped around yours and she patted it a few times.

“How have you been? Oh, I’ve missed you! You know I was just saying to James the other day, it was a shame he let such a gem like you go.”

“Rebecca, that’s very kind, but how are you? Are you resting? Are you feeling better?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I was fine, but the nurses at the home, they called an ambulance and made me come here!”

“Mom, you passed out and your heartbeat was at 22 bpms!” Kim interjected

Rebecca waved her hand, then turned back to you.

“Where is James? Did you come with him?” she asked

“No. He’s away on a mission, but he’ll be here as soon as he can. He asked me to come see you until he could get here.”

“Oh that’s so kind of you. You know, he really loved you. I could see it every time he looked at you and every time I’d ask about you he’d talk and talk. I told him to hold on to you, but, well my brother never wants to listen to me!”

“Mom!” Kim interrupted again and you couldn’t help but chuckle. Even in this state, Rebecca’s personality was still shining through.

You caught up a little more, filling Rebecca and Kim in on your life since you last saw them.

Finally, Rebecca’s eyes kept closing mid-sentence and you and Kim left her to get more rest.

As you and Kim walked down the hall of the hospital together, she filled you in more on Rebecca’s health and explained that Scott and Jenny were also taking shifts visiting, currently hanging out in the waiting room down the hall.

“Sweetie, it’s getting late, let me give you some money so you can get a cab home.”

“No, Kim, I’ll stay here with you guys tonight.”

“You don’t have to…”

“Please? Just until Bucky calls again. Maybe by morning we’ll have a better idea of when he’ll be back.”

Kim nodded and gave your arm a light squeeze in thanks.

The waiting room was small and featured dated furniture and peeling wallpaper set under the glow of harsh fluorescent lights. Scott was asleep, curled in an uncomfortable position in a chair in the corner. Jenny flashed you a tired smile as you entered. You sat on one of the worn couches and laid your head back, attempting to drift off into sleep.

The night was rather restless, dozing in and out, but never really getting pulled into sleep fully. Between the buzz of hospital employees rushing about, the cramped sleeping arrangement, and the worry chewing in the pit of your stomach about both Rebecca and Bucky, it was far too difficult to get solid rest.

Would Rebecca be okay? How would Bucky act towards you when he got back? Would things go back to being friendly between you as a thanks for being there for his family or would he simply continue to ignore you and act as though this also didn’t happen?

You must have finally gotten to sleep, because you were pulled out of slumber by a metal hand squeezing yours and a soft calling of your name by a familiar voice.

Your eyes shot open to find Bucky, crouched down in front of you, face meeting yours as he gently woke you. Despite the exhaustion painted on his face, he was a radiant light in the otherwise dim environment.

“Bucky!” you sat upright and pulled him into a tight hug

“Hey Doll.” he said, squeezing you so tightly you thought you’d burst like a can of Pillsbury Crescent Rolls.

“How did the mission go? When did you get back? Have you been in to see your sister yet?” you asked

Bucky shook his head.

“We can talk about the mission later. Thank you so much for being here.”

“How is Rebecca?” you asked

“I… um. I don’t know. I just got here and came to see you guys first.” he nodded toward the sleeping forms around you.

“You should go see her. Hopefully she got plenty of rest over night.”

Bucky shook his head some more.

“I don’t know if I can… she’s the last thing I have of my old life. I don’t know if I can bear to see her like that.”

“Bucky, she needs you. She wants to see you, she asked where you were last night.”

Bucky sighed, wetness welling in his worn blue eyes.

“I’ll go with you.” you volunteered

“Doll, you’ve already done so much. I can’t ask another thing of you.”

“Please, Bucky, I want to be there for you. And for her.”

He nodded and took your hand in his flesh one, helping you off the couch and not letting go as you walked down the hall together towards Rebecca's room.

She was sitting upright in bed and her face lit up at the sight of you and her brother, nearly spilling the applesauce the nurses brought her for breakfast into her lap.

Bucky finally let go of your hand, giving his sister a hug much more gentle than the one he gave you.

“Oh James, you know you didn’t have to rush away from work just to come see me!”

“Becca, yes I did!” he smiled

“Well, your girlfriend had things covered here.” she gestured towards you

“Oh, Becs no, we’re not back together.” Bucky explained

“Oh? But why not?” Rebecca asked

“It's not important right now. What’s important right now is getting you healthy.”

Rebecca smiled and shook her head.

“James, it is important right now. I’ve lived a lot of years and I’ve learned the most important thing in life is holding the ones you love close to you. I learned that when my big brother ‘died’ at war. I learned that when my children grew up too fast and moved away. I learned that with every grandchild born and held in my arms. And I learned that when you came back into my life after so many years.”

“Rebecca…” Bucky spoke, but she held up her hand to cut him off.

“I don’t know why you two broke up or what happened. But what I do know is how much the two of you clearly love each other. Look, James, I’m old. I know I don’t have much time left. But you, you have a life to live still and running away from the good things is not what your baby sister wants for you.”

“Rebecca, this is a conversation for her and I and another time.” Bucky argued

“You know for being my older brother, you sure aren’t wiser than me.”

“Wow, even sick in the hospital, still trying the younger sibling thing.” Bucky joked back

A knock at the door took the three of you from the conversation as a cheery nurse stepped inside the room.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I need to run a few tests the doctor ordered. It’ll only take a little while.” he explained.

Bucky sighed and gave his sister a kiss on her temple, then gestured for you to step out with him.

Once in the hall he finally broke down completely, the stress of the past few days catching up to him.

You cradled his head in your arms as he sobbed, knowing the longer the two of you stayed like this, the longer you could put off having a conversation.

“Can we go for a walk?” he asked, finally calm enough to stand and wipe the tears from his eyes

You nodded and took his hand again, leading him out to the front of the hospital into the sunshine.

A few open benches along the sidewalk provided a place for the two of you to sit. Still, it took a few minutes for Bucky to finally speak up.

“I’m sorry I let it get like this between us.” Bucky mumbled, barely loud enough for you to hear.

“Bucky, please. We don’t have to do this right now. You should be worrying about your sister, not me.”

“No, Doll, Rebecca’s right.”

“Yeah?”

“About everything.” he nodded his head “About life. About us. But don’t tell her I said that, or she’ll never let me live it down.”

You giggled.

“I wanted it to be real. Not at first, but after a while. When she tells you a story about us as kids and you smile at me the way you do. Or when your eyes light up when I make up a lie about the latest romantic thing I did. I wanted it all to be real. And I still do.”

“I wanted it to be real too.” you confessed “But if you wanted that, then why did you not just ask me out for real instead of Maddie?”

“Because, like Rebecca said, I was running away from the good things. I was scared that after everything I’ve been through, no one would stick around knowing all of that about me. But then you did, and it scared the hell out of me. And I wasn’t sure if I was reading it all wrong. Asked Maddie out as an excuse to push you away. I thought maybe avoiding you would make me get over it, but it didn’t, it just made me miss you.”

“And Maddie?”

“We went on a few dates and it was fun, but of course, I kept her at a distance. Didn’t want to let her in like I did with you. So she broke it off with me after a while.”

You chuckled and shook your head.

“You know, the leaves in Central Park aren’t quite orange yet, but it’s still a nice time of year for a first date there.”

“Yeah. It is. For real this time?”

“For real this time.” you agreed “But let’s worry about getting Rebecca healthy first.”

“I bet if we go up and tell her we’re back together, she’ll run out of that room and steal a cab just to make sure we make it to Central Park today.” he joked

You softly pressed your lips against his, feeling him melt into your kiss as the tension between the two of you these last few months finally evaporated.

When you finally pulled apart, you realized now you were the one crying, relieved that things between the two of you worked out.

Rebecca was released from the hospital a few days later, new medication bringing her health back into balance and making her as vivacious as ever. She was even well enough to join you and Bucky in Central Park for your 8th date, though she didn’t know that, as you and Bucky decided it was best not to tell her about the lie even now. And of course, when Bucky and Rebecca stepped out of the cab on 5th Avenue, he held two bouquets of pink roses in his hands.

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Okay, either the scientist knew she was preggo or they just thought she was going through hormonal changes or whatever, there is NO WAY CROWLEY DOESNT KNOW THE HUMAN IS PREGGO.

Also, how much should I bet that Cater is just going to keep the whole world updated with every single DETAIL.

Oh, Lilia is going to have a FIELD DAY WHEN THE BABY IS BORN, same for Trein, he’s probably going to love it.

Referring to this fic snippet here:

Okay, to be fair, I forgot to mention that the events take place shortly after Yuu's arrival. Probably between chapter 2 and 3 given the timeline we have, which puts it at about...two, three weeks after the prologue and shortly after Riddle and Leona overblot.

As for the scientists/researchers, while logically speaking they would immediately jump at the chance to come to the island to start their studies, they first had to make sure these pictures circulating on Cater’s Magicam posts were legit first. Once it is established through a video or two that was posted, that's when they reach out to Crowley to make the arrangements!

And they actually arrive a week after the pregnancy announcement, so you can bet that they are very eager to get some studying done as quick as possible! 😂

As for the staff not realizing that fem!Yuu is pregnant, they are aware of what a pregnant monster's scent is like for sure. But because there hadn't been a human in centuries, even if Crowley was old enough to have been around humans, it's not like he remembers the scent off the top of his head! The staff would all essentially be like those confused cats and dogs trying to figure out what this strange bump is and why their human smells funny before instinctively feeling protective.

Can you just imagine Crowley building a nest for Yuu without realizing just *why* he was doing it in the first place? Or the blank stare he'd give the moment someone asked him like, "...why am I doing this??" and it only becomes clear shortly after the announcement, in which he tries to pretend he knew all along 😂

I'm also reminded of this one post where OP's cat had had multiple litters in the past and was so excited when OP got pregnant that the kitty kept trying to show her to the nest she made for OP's "kitten", and it was the sweetest thing I'd ever read 🥹

Anyway, you can bet your bottom madol that Cater will absolutely be keeping EVERYONE updated on Magicam throughout the whole process, and he is getting flooded with baby picture requests 🤣 It's also sweet how mothers come across the posts and try to offer advice that they'd learned on raising their kids, which is nice, though not all of the advice would really be practical based on species 😅 But at least they're sweet enough to offer that and words of encouragement! I can even see some inviting Yuu to a mother's support group meeting ;;v;;

You can also bet that Yuu will be receiving a lot of baby shower gifts and such from Cater’s followers. At least they don't have to worry about needing to buy diapers for a while! 🤣

Ooooooh yes, Lilia is going to be ecstatic to be able to hold and care for a baby again! He will offer to help watch over the little one (hadn't decided on a gender or name yet for the new baby) so Yuu can take a break, though don't worry about him trying to feed the baby his cooking. He learned and knows that milk is important for the baby, so he makes sure to have the bottles readily available even at Diasomnia~ (though Silver and the others make sure to keep an eye on him when it comes to feeding time just to be on the safe side)

Trein has already raised two daughters, and while he may not be interested in raising another, that's not to say he won't wind up spoiling the little human baby like any grandparent would! He'll also offer a shoulder for fem!Yuu to lean on and reassure her that she's doing a great job as a mother ;;v;;

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

👑The girl in the silver dress👑New version

Aemond x reader

Tags: Fluffish, royalty, modernroyalty, theselection

Cool devider credits: firefly graphics

🔷Summary: You are invited to become a selected girl for Prince Jacaerys's selection. You never thought you would fall for his uncle, prince Aemond instead.

🔷Author's note: Based on the books by Kiera Cass, but reading them is not required.

🔷Wordcount :5393

🔷Warnings: It is not a very dark or triggering fic. If you found something that upsets you, however let me know ill change the warnings

The life you had before the palace was as a child’s coloring book before growing up. You didn't bother about crossing over the lines, no one told you to stop adding hats to the animals you coloured in, or to stop using so much pink and glitters. There was no line you could cross, no scissors wrapped in papers who could cut you open without you realizing.

All of that changed for better or worse when you were selected for the Selection of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon or as he would soon be known under his ruling name, King Jacaerys Velyaron. 

You never thought you would be selected. There are strict laws that only noble ladies from the minor houses can join the month-to-a-year-long competition where the Seven Kingdoms are introduced to his future bride. 

It is more than a beauty pageant. The skills of each bride are tested. The selection does not require mere Valyrian blood or beauty alone anymore. It has become a deadly game full of manipulation, lies, tricks, schemes and plots. Things you know nothing of.

Your house is not as grand as Baratheon, or as rich as Lannister, your house…It has always been decent. Your parents sheltered you from court life and tried giving you a normal life, as normal as one could have with your titles. And now, it all would change

You sit in the dining room of the royal castle, known as the Red Keep. The castle has survived multiple wars, sieges, treasons and deaths long before any of its current inhabitants graced this world, and many more would follow before you all are bones.

In front of you is a silver plate with a spoon, a fork, a knife and a glass. You never knew you cutted your food wrong or that you lean that much with your elbows on a table until your princess training began. 

It is all so terribly confusing. There are 35 girls here, and they want the same as you do. They want to be the one for Prince Jacaerys. They want to sit next to him at official functions and parties, they want one day to be his love, to continue his legacy and perhaps more than Jace, they want this glamorous life. 

You tell yourself that this uneasy feeling, that you don’t quite belong here, will fade. It has to. These girls are all from higher noble houses and used to courtly manners and training. Of course you will be a bit out of place at first. 

A gorgeous black-haired girl with a clear stag necklace with diamonds speaks up, rising from her chair as if she is already proclaimed queen. She turns to the woman who is tasked with guiding and teaching you all how to behave accordingly as the consort of the king. That lady is called Lady Aemma Arryn, yet you may refer to her as Lady Aemma or Lady Arryn. 

The girl’s voice has a slight accent from the Stormlands. ‘’When will we meet the royal family?’’ You believe her name is Floris, but you are not sure. You become slightly worried by her question, as you are in no state of preparation to meet anyone or anything royal at all.

Your teacher sighs, annoyed by this question. ‘’Patience, girls. I won’t introduce you to any royal. Some of you can curtsy but others would fall flat on their faces.’’ She doesn't even glance in your direction. So why do you feel as if she speaks directly about you?

Floris nods to that with a sweet smile, her eyes blinking rapidly. ‘’That would be embarrassing.’’ She says, eying the girls around the table, including you. You pretend to be too busy with your glass to notice.

Lady Aemma smiles. ‘’Yes it would.’’ She says, with a thinly veiled laugh. ‘’For you it would be.’’ She adds with a charming smile.

A few girls giggle delighted by this spectacle and amazing comeback. Floris becomes furious and you fear that for now, Lady Aemma has made an enemy. ‘’Ladies, focus. Remember: You are always one step away from a scandal.’’ The grand doors of the dining room open.

35 heads turn at the same time, taking in the mysterious visitors. It is two young adult males, both dressed in black, with each a motorcycle helmet under their arms. One is slightly taller yet the smaller one stands out the most thanks to his cheekish, boyish and almost taunting grin. 

Nervous chatter erupts among most girls, as they already seem to know who these two men are. You wonder if one of these two men is Jacaerys. The smaller one speaks, and despite the distance between you and him he speaks as if he is sitting right next to you, almost purring in your ear and sending shivers down your spine. ‘’I didn’t know the royal harem had been invited already.’’ 

You are offended by his comment and frown. The selection is not a harem. One girl will be chosen. One. This is nothing like a harem. The taller man remains silent, his expression unreadable as a book in a foreign language you only heard in a dream.

Lady Aemma smiles and for a moment you believe her. You believe she is happy to see both. Until the corners of her mouth slightly begin to hang in displeasure or perhaps pure disgust when she greets the man.

‘’Prince Aegon.’’ You slowly lift your elbows again from the table, quickly sitting straight. ‘’Forgive me, you nor your brother were expected back so quickly.’’ Aegon, or rather prince Aegon approaches the long table with 35 young women that stare at him as if he is a statue that has come to life.

Aegon takes no offense. ‘’It is no matter, Lady Aemma.’’ He makes sure to put a little extra effort on the lady word. ‘’You are getting old, after all.’’ Lady Aemma turns her head so he can’t see her scowl, very subtly before looking at the selected girls again.

She speaks to you all. ‘’Girls, this is Prince Aegon, and Prince Aemond. Please stand up for them, and make a curtsy as is custom.’’ You all stand up before following her orders, making a curtsy or a bow.

Aegon seems to enjoy the attention when his brother remains in the background, unaware of your gaze slowly shifting from Aegon's eyes to his own. When he finally notices your gaze, he scowls. Your smile dies and you turn your gaze to the glass in front of you. Aemond and Aegon leave soon after that, having caused quite the uproar among the selected.

The girl a few chairs away from you speaks, her blue and gorgeous dress reveals she is from either the Arryn, or perhaps a Velyaron. ‘’Is Jace just as pretty as them?’’ She wonders, her voice a little sigh of a girl slowly falling in love.

Lady Aemma scowls at her, before insulting the girl. ‘’Prince Jacaerys to you, and have some self-respect and decorum.’’ A few girls giggle, but you don’t join this time as you take in the sad smile of the girl, clearly embarrassed. 

Two months in the selection and you feel less like a failure every passing day. One day, when you are busy practicing the dance of the dragons, Lady Aemma returns from her walk. Several girls who have been practicing break up their dances, but you and your partner keep engaged in the dance. The girl was shy at first, keeping her movements stiff and ungracious, but after your encouraging smile and jokes about how you look like a parrot when you dance, she has loosened up and dances as if she is the most free and spirited girl out there. Her name is Maris. You and Maris smoothly glide over the dance floor, leaving jealous eyes behind. Not jealousy aimed at you, but at Maris or the bond you two have. Lady Aemma quietly walks over, her hands folded in front of her blue dress when she takes in the movements you and Maris make, faithful to the waltz.

She smiles, nodding in slight approval. You are shocked and you can tell that Maris is too. ‘’Good, especially you, Lady Baratheon. You are a natural.’’ To you, she does not utter a word but gives you a warning glare before turning her head to the other girls. You and Maris finally break up your dance so you can listen to what Lady Aemma has to say.

She sighs, deeply and very unbecoming of a lady, before speaking. ‘’Ladies, it is with great displeasure and my greatest fear that I must admit to myself, and you all, as adults, that you are finally ready to meet what could become your future family in law, as well his royal highness, prince Jacaerys Velyaron.’’ You hear Maris gasp, as well as other girls who giggle and mutter excitedly. Lady Aemma glares at one girl who lets out an excited cheer. ‘’Do not make me regret this.’’ She warns the girl in particular. 

That evening, you are prepared to meet the royal family. You are put in a silver coloured dress with transparent sleeves,  befitting your house colors. The other girls are dressed as well, each in another dress with a different model. When the selection started you all were giving a tailor, a handmaiden, a team of make-up artists and dressmakers. 

You would be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t nervous to meet the royal family. They have a reputation for being intense people. They dislike outsiders joining their royal private circle, and for centuries banned people for even joining theirs. Now the rules have changed, and you are prepared for your meeting, hearing other girls talk with their teams.

Lady Floris Baratheon wears a dark black with gold gown, sleeveless with a huge diamond choker. Again, it would be a lie if you wouldn’t admit she wears it very well. She orders her maids to tighten her corset even more, before her small feet glide into her dark black heels.

You hear sniffs beside you, and turn your head to a gorgeous blonde crying girl in a red gown. Her make-up artist sighs. ‘’I can’t work like this. The girl keeps crying and it ruins the eyeliner I put on her.’’ Is he heartless? You feel conflicted as you take in her big puffy red eyes. She is upset.

The dressmaker does her best to comfort the girl, but fails miserably because of her annoyed glare and her tight pressed lips. ‘’You are ruining everything we worked so hard for with your tears.’’ She warns the girl. 

That only makes the girl feel even more terrible. ‘’I don’t know. What if he hates this? What if he hates me?’’  Your chest tightens as you become worried about that too.

A woman with her gorgeous silver locks high up on a knot in the Valyrian style, approaches the girl, gently taking her hands into her own. ‘’He doesn’t know you, he can’t hate you yet.’’ She tells the girl, who slowly calms down because of this act of sincere genuine kindness. That is all she needed.

The girl continues giving her advice as you listen in on them, feeling terrible that you do so. ‘’Jacaerys is very kind, and takes his role and the selection very seriously. He will have a small talk with all of us. Just be yourself, Jace likes that the most.’’ She finally notices you listening in. Instead of glaring or snapping at you, she smiles. ‘’You look beautiful. Silver is your color.’’

You are speechless. The girl she helped, is not. ‘’Thank you, Lady Baela. You’re always very kind to me.’’ She sniffs. ‘’If my face wasn’t full of snot and ruined make-up, I’d hug you.’’ 

Lady Baela smiles, yet beams at the compliment before taking the girl’s hand. After Baela has cleaned her face for her, and put on a fresh layer of much less expressive make-up, she takes the girl by her hand. ‘’I’m simply speaking my truth, lady Dyana. Come, we’ll go in together. I met the royal family before. They are actually very nice.’’

Floris snaps her head to Baela, taking in her dark blue puffy gown as she scoffs, clearly hating the seahorses that are embroidered on it. ‘’Where the hell would a girl like you met the royals before?’’ She asks, her voice clearly jealous.

Baela smiles, sweetly. ‘’Be careful, Lady Floris. Green clashes with black.’’ She walks with Dyana to the people by the doors, to let them know they are ready. You smile, faintly until you notice Floris approaching you.

She takes in your plain silver dress. ‘’You’re the nameless girl.’’ That is one way to greet you.

You shrug. ‘’What if I am?’’

Floris sighs, deeply as if you are just stupid before giving you some friendly advice meant as a threat. ‘’Just don’t bother, dear. A prince like Jace wants a girl with a house, banners, and good men to fight his wars.’’

You might suck at dancing, at court manners, public speaking, but the history and the books? That is something you excel at. You turn your head. ‘’Lady Floris. Perhaps if you spent as much time with your nose in a book as you did making others feel miserable, you would know that the last time the Seven Kingdoms had a war was hundreds of years ago. I suggest you spent more time reading, no man likes a girl that can’t keep up with him.’’ A few girls overhear and giggle among themselves, as Floris becomes a dark shade of red. You let her be, before telling the crew you are ready as well.

You are let in at the same time as Dyana. You take a moment to take in the grand chandelier, dangling from the ceiling, the polished marble tiles and the buffet tables with delicious sweets and glasses of champagne. The curtains that cover the tall windows are in a red color with dark black details, and you hear a faint orchestra play an upbeat tune as the selected are paraded to the royal family. 

You feel like you don’t belong here at all, suddenly. You and Dyana both approach the royal family. You will curtsy to every member, and when he has the time, Prince Jacaerys will formally meet his selected, making a conversation of about 3 minutes with every girl. You feel nervous, so you wonder how Lady Dyana  is feeling. She must feel even worse. She is close to crying again. You wait for her to catch your glance. She finally looks at you, a little nervous and worried.

You wink at her, causing her to giggle loudly. The royals snap their heads in her direction, but Jace’s lips curl into an approving smile, before grinning back. Dyana makes a deep, beautiful curtsy for Jacaerys. He speaks to her, smiling as well, before likely asking what she was laughing about. Dyana nods to your direction and Jace follows her gaze to you. Jace nods as if he thanks you, before taking off with Dyana.

Your hand is grabbed and you are tugged out of the line by Lady Aemma. You smell her intense parfum as you are dragged to the side. ‘’I had hoped you learned by now.’’ She sighs, almost disappointed in you. She turns her body so she can look at you.

You blink, confused. ‘’Had learned what, Lady Aemma?’’ You ask, your voice soft. ‘’Dyana seemed nervous-’’

She grabs your shoulders, breaking protocol. ‘’These girls are not your friends, Y/N. They would throw you from the towers so they can hold Jace’s hand when he takes in your corpse. Every girl is here for herself. You should be too.’’ She warns you, but you are not angry. Just upset.  Deep down, you know very well she is right. ‘’You are a sweet, genuine girl with a kind, gentle heart. It won’t lead you anywhere with this family. Take it from me. Kind girls, finish last.’’ She looks at King Viserys when speaking. ‘’If they reach the finish at all, that is.’’ You heard Floris once tell a story that Lady Aemma was a Queen once, but that Viserys degraded her because she could not deliver him a healthy child. Others say that Alicent used her dark magic on the king, breaking their relationship. So you don’t really know if there is truth to those rumors, and if so, how much truth.

‘’Come, Jacaerys is occupied, but the other members of the family must be greeted.’’ She takes you with her, walking you to the other members of the very well dressed royal family. ‘’May I present, Lady Y/N?’’ Princess Regent Rhaenyra is the first to address you.

Her dress takes your breath away, it is a dark black gown with red and golden details, but on her back are dragon wings. You drop in a low respectful curtsy before lowering your gaze. The princess smiles, approvingly before telling you to rise with a nod. ‘’My. Your dress is by far the simplest, but still the most beautiful out here. You must share your tailor with me.’’ She rambles excitedly. ‘’I love the little sparkles.’’ She seems like a sweet kind woman. You don’t understand why the media calls her cruel. ‘’And I saw what you did for your fellow selected. You have taken my interest, I don’t doubt you’ll hold Jacaerys soon as well.’’

You are brought before the king next, King Viserys. Aemma does not speak a single word, but you drop into another curtsy. The king speaks, and you worry for madness coming out. But it is far from madness. It is plain, true, as clear as a piece of well forged glass. ‘’It is a wonderful day, seeing a common girl grace the halls with the posture and decorum of a true born royal. Your kindness with the girl did not go unnoticed.’’ He speaks very kindly and you almost feel as if you are back at home again. He nods to Dyana who is now dancing with Jacaerys, in the waltz you practiced, not a care in the world. ‘’A ruler must have a kind heart, that beats for her people.’’

You are shocked and honored by his compliments. ‘’Y-your majesty, King Viserys. Your words honor me.’’ You speak, your voice touched by his kindness. 

A sharp but elegant voice cuts in, interrupting you, protocol and the reality is brought back in. ‘’May I cut in?’’ A beautiful red haired woman in a dark green gown with sharp spikes smiles at you, and you know she is Queen Alicent.

Viserys nods, smiling as you gulp silently. ‘’Of course, dear. This is her majesty, Queen Alicent Hightower.’’ You make another deep curtsy, and you can’t understand why she is called a witch or worse in the media sometimes.

Alicent smiles at Aemma. Aemma smiles back, unchallenged. You can read rivalry and hatred in both their eyes. Until Alicent speaks. ‘’Surely your flock needs help? I’ll take over for you. She only needs to meet my sons and the little princes.’’ The flock, being selected girls. You feel insulted and a little frightened when Alicent takes you with her, not giving Aemma a chance to save you. She walks you to the two young adult men, no longer in leather and jeans, but in suit and tie. They look extraordinarily handsome, for sure. But you are not here for them.

Prince Aegon sighs, muttering to his brother how bored he is. Prince Aemond does not even respond, having his hands folded on the back of his suit jacket, and his good eye is aimed at you, and you alone as a bee in trance of a blooming flower. Aegon even waves his hand in front of Aemond’s good working eye, before Aemond snaps at him, likely telling him to behave. You find it wondrous how he is the youngest, yet act as the eldest.

Alicent presents you to her sons. ‘’Aemond, Aegon…’’ She glares at the latter, warning him with that. ‘’This is Lady Y/n.’’ You dip in another curtsy, smiling at both royals who do nothing to even acknowledge your existence. 

The silence is painfully awkward as Alicent leaves. You speak, your voice soft and sincere. ‘’I am honored.’’

The eldest prince scoffs, putting his hands in the pockets of his pants. ‘’I imagine you would be.’’ You try to find your tongue, to say something sharp and witty but all that comes out is a very soft:

‘’Pardon?’’

Aegon laughs, gesturing around him. ‘’We are royalty, you are like a peasant. We are the lions, you are our gazelle.’’ You feel nauseous at that description, as if he can rip you to shreds. 

You turn your head to the other prince who remains silent. The prince follows your gaze. ‘’Don’t talk to my brother, he is not very talkative. Unless you like to talk about ancient Dornish statues, or banter on endless debates about historic battles.’’ You would much rather be getting a drink, then to be in the crossfire between those two.

Aemond hisses, clearly a bit embarrassed in his rough voice. ‘’Aegon.’’

You see an opening. And so you take it. ‘’I quite like Dornish statues. My father is the patron of art conversionship in Sunspear.’’ Aegon bristles, scoffing when sipping his drink when Aemond looks at you as if he only sees you now for the first time. He sees the real you, for the first time.  ‘’You do? You don’t…’’ He clears his throat. ‘’Find it boring?’’

Your father has been patron of persevering Dornish and other foreign cultural works, protecting it from greedy graverobbers and folks who think other people’s cultures belong in their own house. He makes sure the local museums display it, earn money from it and profit from it but most of all: That Dornish aritfacts remain in Dorne. Your dad does admirable work, some would call it boring, perhaps. But how else can you learn from history, if you don’t cherish and protect it?

Your words come blurting out, before you can stop them, quoting your father. ‘’Only a soul with little imagination would find history boring.’’ Aegon stops sipping his drink, looking at you with newfound interest. But Aemond has become absolutely silent, a smile on his pink soft lips.

You forgot yourself for a brief moment. These men are above you. ‘’I-..’’

The younger prince talks, his rough but soft voice leaving his mouth. ‘’I concur.’’ He nods, even. ‘’What is your favorite piece?’’ He brings his champagne glass to his lips before taking a sip.

You watch, before answering the question. ‘’It’s a cliche, but Nymeria’s statues, the ones that have been constructed by her family.’’ You tell him, with a dismissive little laugh.

The prince does not agree with you. ‘’Is it a cliche, or is it a classic?’’ You are dumbstruck at that comment, feeling all your wit leave your body. He smiles, reassuring that he does not find your interests stupid. And that is something no one else did before. He in fact, takes the bait and asks you things. ‘’The one’s at Sunspear or the one’s at Dornegarden? Of course, a lot of smaller statues have been build all over Dorne to honor her.’’ You are impressed by his knowledge.

You nod. Dornegarden is on your bucket list. ‘’Dornegarden’s are my favorite. The statues are so immensely huge, as if she is a goddess looking down at you.’’ You describe it the way your father described it to you.

Beyond his shyness you can see a small smile appearing, gentle as a first snowflake in november. ‘’Ah, I can see why you like her. She was clever, fierce and beautiful too.’’ You blush, unintended. 

You know it is polite to ask, but part of you is dying to know. ‘’And yours?’’ Aemond opens his mouth but sadly, the pig that is his brother interrupts, ruining this precious moment and shutting Aemond up.

Aegon grins. ‘’He has a fascination for everything depressing, doomed and disastrous.’’ You try to think of a specific name that comes to mind. Isn’t all history depressing, dooming and disastrous, in certain ways? 

‘’Oryn.’’ Aemond mumbles, quietly.

You hear it perfectly. If he were in a crowd of thousand screaming men, you would hear it just as clear. ‘’Oryn?’’ You find that an interesting intriguing choice.

Aemond nods, his silver hair going up and down.‘’Yeah.’’

‘’I like his statues.’’ You tell him. His temple was destroyed by his usurper, the king’s brother, when Oryn was cut in pieces. The foul king took Oryn’s wife as well.

The prince takes a bigger sip of his champagne, his body language suddenly tense and clearly distressed. ‘’You don’t have to lie to me. I know no one really gives a fuck about him.’’ He mutters as if he hates himself for caring as much as he does.

You step closer to the prince before speaking your truth. ‘’I’m not lying, his story is a tragedy but it doesn’t mean that the story isn’t worth telling. It has betrayal, brotherly love, devotion and romance. How can you not love it?’’ You bring out your smartphone from your handbag, showing Aemond a few photo’s your father sent on his recent travels. ‘’They found his grave recently. My dad was there when they cut the rock open.’’ Aemond’s mood changes back from sullen to excited, to impressed, yet still reserved.

‘’No way.’’ He murmurs, looking at the little screen as if it’s a diamond. ‘’Your father leads the expedition?’’ He sounds impressed, and you blush.

You know the Dornish would never. Too long, Westerosi grave robbers from the Crownlands have taken Dornish artifacts. ‘’No, the Dornish lead it themselves. Father simply is invited, because he protects the art faithfully. The Dornish have closed him in their hearts.’’ 

Aemond understands that, still his eyes are glued to your phone, taking in every detail on the dark photo. ‘’Oh, yes, of course.’’

He mutters to himself.���’Where did they even find this?’’

You tell what your father told you. ‘’A farmer found it. Apparently his son was playing and saw a crack in a rock. They rolled the rock away, revealing a cave. Inside the cave, there was his tomb.’’ The rest of the world seems to fade when you and Aemond talk, the worries and fears of not fitting in miles away.

He grins, smiling, letting out a little chuckle. ‘’I love that. I doubt his brother knew of it. His supporters must have made it, after Oryn was slain.’’ His brother would be Prince Razar, the brother of Prince Oryn, and Princess Farya.

He is an Oryn supporter, so perhaps he likes to hear this as well. ‘’Dad says they found traces of Queen Farya. Flowers were left. They withered, but they are testing the remains. They think they already know it are Dornish daisies.’’ You tell him.

The simple grin he lets out does something to your heart. ‘’Her favorite, according to many poems out of that time.’’ 

You nod. ‘’Yes, exactly.’’

Aemond becomes a little more serious, still rambling on, happy to finally have found someone, anyone that listens. ‘’Do you think that she was even allowed to visit her brother’s grave? Or out of the palace?’’

You think deeply before speaking. You avoid his gaze. ‘’Perhaps in secret? When people are meant to be together…’’

He answers without missing a moment. ‘’They will find a way.’’ You smile at one another, both lost in each other’s eyes.

He breaks eye-contact, nodding to the phone. ‘’This is certainly amazing. Thank you for showing me this.’’

You take back your phone, putting it in the handbag. ‘’Have you ever been in Dorne, my Prince?’’ You wonder. Aemond seems to slightly blush.

He nods. ‘’Yes, many times. I go as often as my duties allow me.’’ You inwardly sigh, delighted. That must be so wonderful.

The prince then turns to look at you. ‘’And you?’’

You shrug, a little playing with your handbag.‘’It’s a heartwish of mine.’’ You confess.

Aegon makes a strange sound, startling you as if he is about to puke any moment. ‘’Give me a fucking bucket.’’ he comments, grumpily you both ignored him for so long. You feel embarrassed and mocked.

Aemond’s smile dies and he is back to hiding his emotions. ‘’Aegon, perhaps you can go get a drink?’’ He suggest, sweetly. Aegon nods, taking off. Once Aegon is gone, he turns to you. ‘’I apologize for him. We had such a lovely conversation and now its ruined.’’ You nod, but part of you is worried the conversation isn’t allowed. 

You try to give him some advice, though. ‘’Don’t be. He is your brother, but you don’t control him.’’

He seems dumbstruck by those words, staring at his empty champagne glass. ‘’Hm. I’ve been apologizing for his behavior before I was old enough to walk.’’ He mutters.

You smile, faking a bit of a stern glare causing him to chuckle. ‘’Well, maybe you should stop apologizing.’’ You mean it. He is not responsible for Aegon.

The prince nods, as if you have given him a lot to think about. ‘’Maybe I should.’’

You notice the Prince, Jacaerys has joined you, listening in with his hands folded on his back. You notice the seahorse pin on his chest.‘’Ahum.’’

You dip in a curtsy. ‘’Your highness.’’

Jacaerys ignores you, staring at prince Aemond. ‘’Uncle.’’

‘’Nephew.’’

You notice another rivalry, unfolding right before your eyes. You wish to leave, right now.

Jacaerys speaks, his voice taunting but soft. ‘’Thank you for keeping Lady Y/n occupied when I spoke to the other ladies. It is her turn now, however.’’ Aemond lifts his chin as if he wants to speak, but changes his mind.

‘’Of course.’’ And with that, he lets you go. You turn on your heel, walking back to Aemond. ‘’It is always nice to talk with someone about history.’’ You thank him with that and smile. He doesn't smile. He does not even glance at you, anymore.

All you get is a vague, disinterested ‘’Hm.’’

The prince takes you with him, walking to the buffet before offering you a glass of champagne. ‘’Did he hurt you?’’

He casually asks between filling the glasses. 

You are confused. ‘’Who?’’

He shrugs, as if it's obvious. ‘’Aemond?’’

You become even more confused. ‘’No?’’

Jace leans in a little closer. ‘’You must know, it is inappropriate for any selected to have another lover. It can lead to disqualification or worse, punishment.’’ He warns you, kindly of that. You know he does not mean to harm or threaten you.

You nod, thankful but you do want to clear things up.‘’I didn’t know that. But Prince Aemond and me only talked about Dornish statues.’’ Not very romantic, so why does your heart beat so fast?

Jacaerys scoff. ‘’Statues?’’ You can see that Aemond is likely the only history buff in his family. That must be lonely.

You smile, telling him the same thing you told Aemond. ‘’Yes, in Sunspear-’’

But this time, you get a deep sigh before Jace even rolls his eyes. ‘’Don’t you want to talk about something more exciting?’’ He suggests. 

You feel as if you have been hit in the face. You feel rejected and foolish. ‘’Like what?’’

He shrugs. ‘’Most girls tell me of their house, or their horses.’’ Their horses? You hear yourself think, and its not a pleasant thought. How…dull? And all of them? You bet that Floris told them to bring it up.

You repeat after him. ‘’Horses?’’

‘’You don’t like horses?’’ He asks. Horses terrify you.

‘’I don’t dislike them.’’ You say and it's the truth. Horses are beautiful from a distance. You just don't want to ride them. Or talk about them. ‘’I don’t like talking about horses. I don’t want to have dull meaningless conversation with you.’’

Jace straightens his back. ‘’That is part of your job, should you become my queen.’’ You feel your lips hang in a sorrowful line and for the first time you wonder if this is what you really want.

Jace notices your mood change quickly. ‘’But it's alright. We can talk about something else too. What is your favorite sweet?’’

You nod, accepting his attempts at winning your heart.  ‘’I like cupcakes.’’ Jacaerys takes a chocolate cupcake for you from the impressive cake stand, looking at it very briefly, inspecting it before handing it to you. ‘’These are my favorites. I have yet to taste anything else that taste as good as these.’’ That sounds promising. You clumsily bite the cupcake off, tasting the surprisingly good white chocolate filling. It tastes as good as he said it would, and your argument from earlier vanishes as snow that is basked in sunrays. ‘’It is really good.’’ You say, licking your fingers off when you think no one is watching. Jacaerys is amused by your actions, before slyly doing the same. 

Jacaerys seems a bit nervous, before he sighs after you both have finished your cupcakes. ‘’I’m sorry for being a little mean about Aemond earlier. I’ve been hearing disturbing news about him and his brother. I don’t see you girls as my cattle or my livestock, but I do feel responsible. You are here under my roof, for me. You put up with etiquette and court rules for me, the very least I can do, is protect you from men that want to harm you.’’ You notice your gaze swift between Jace and Aemond, who is now talking with an unknown silver-haired woman in a luscious green gown. That must be Helaena.

You feel foolish you even entertained the prince that long, or talked with them. ‘’Do you think Aemond is that malicious?’’You wonder.

Jace does not need long to answer that question. ‘’I know he is. They both are. If you are important to me, he wants to destroy you.’’ You find that a little extreme but Jace’s stern glare tells you there is nothing funny about this. ‘’Just be careful, Y/N. That’s all I ask.’’ And you nod, obedient as a good girl would. But your gaze kept stealing peaks at the forbidden prince, however.

This is part one, for now.

I hope you all liked it

Its different than what i usually write.

Reblogs/comments are welcome!:))

[spiralizera]

Mistranslations

Pair: Namjoon/reader (English/anglophone)

Summary: You get into a fight with Yoongi over speaking English and not Korean.

Tags: Hurt/comfort; angst; protective Namjoon; angry Namjoon; soft so soft Namjoon; besties Namjoon and Yoongi

Warnings: xenophobia, mentions of racism [writer is white take that as you will], severe panic attacks, depression, non verbal coping mechanisms, use of the word ‘waegukin’ [I know it’s not a racial slur in the same way we understand racial slurs in the west, I mention that in the fic], chats about eurocentrism and colonialism [lol]

Notes: this is the first fanfic I’ve ever written, v spontaneous, possibly due to sun exposure, it’s like 29C rn, inspired by the gorgeous work of @dreamescapeswriting

You were waiting in the dressing room for the boys to finish their set. You’d been working in Gwanju and Namjoon had insisted that you come see him in Busan. The crowd had been insane and quite quickly you’d retreated backstage, overwhelmed. The English translator, now almost permanently on staff for unexpected interviews or even just preliminary prep on translation before content was churned out for online consumption, came and sat with you. She’d been working on her cultural knowledge of English recently and you quite quickly descended into a deep conversation about the politics of Eurovision. You were happy to help, she’d been a saint over these last few months, helping you with Korean.

Just as you were explaining the running joke that is the U.K. and the ‘nil point’ streak, Yoongi and Jungkook burst into the room on a performance high. Jungkook was giggly and jokingly collapsed into your back while Yoongi grabbed some water. They were mid conversation, their breath labouring, rushed and hard to hear. JK turned around and asked you something and since you were just talking to Seo in English, your brain couldn’t quite register what Jungkook was asking. He asked again, gesturing his hands towards the table, too tired to form full sentences. You turned to where he gestured and before you could fully kick your brain back into Korean and ask him to repeat it again, Yoongi scoffed something under his breath.

You paused, unsure if you’d misheard.

‘Sorry?’ You turned to Yoongi, asking in Korean as your brain played catch up with the chaos slowly pouring in from the stage.

Yoongi ignored you and started speaking to Jungkook. Jungkook laughed and pushed lightly off you, grabbing a bottle of water. You were close with the guys, it was easy. They had such a close and intense bond, it was impossible to be intimate with one without becoming close with the others. The only one who’d always remained at a distance from you was Yoongi. He sometimes pretended to exchange pleasantries, but largely kept himself a distance from you. He never spoke in English to you, he never tried to include you. You knew he spoke far better English than most of the boys, except for Namjoon of course. But he only spoke Korean around you. ‘Around’ was the correct word, never at you or with you, just around you, like you were an unfortunately placed pillar obstructing conversation. You largely ignored him, ignored the sick feeling in your stomach whenever he was in the room. It was natural to not click with everybody. Healthy in fact. These were Namjoon’s friends, not yours after all.

You heard the word again. You’d definitely not misheard this time.

‘Hey,’ you stood up, walking over to Yoongi. The boys turned around, jungkook slightly startled by the raise in your voice. ‘What did you call me?’

Yoongi looked at you deadpan. You were the same height and his eyes bore unflinchingly into yours. ‘I said,’ his English was slow like he was speaking to a child, ‘fucking waegukin.’

You stepped back, slightly stunned. It wasn’t a bad word, you knew that, it was a fact, you knew that. People referred to you as one all the time, it was fine, it was-

‘Everywhere we go it’s ‘speak English this’, ‘speak English that’, why don’t you fucking speak Korean? Why do we have to always accommodate you monolingual fucks? The level of entitlement, you come here expecting everything to be handed to you on a fucking plate. We just gave everything out there, Namjoon killed it and you’re in here demanding everyone speak to you in English, wasting the time of our translator, and not even come out and watch us. Namjoon gives you everything, what do you give him? That’s all westerners do, they take and take and demand we meet their standards, demand we make them comfortable. Would you even like Namjoon if he wasn’t an idol? Would you even like him if he couldn’t speak English? He gives so much of himself, so much energy translating and managing interviews and making sure we come across the right way to you westerners. Now he has to come home to you and your English face and your English language. Give him a fucking break. What can you give him, fucking waegukin?’

Yoongi had been getting closer and closer to you, Jungkook had tried grab his shoulder, to interrupt him but he’d shrugged him off. He’d seen red and couldn’t stop. You were just as stunned. You’d almost zoned out after a minute, watching the scene from another corner, alongside the stunned crew. In theory you knew that Yoongi was tired, that this was about something else, something bigger than you. He was right you hadn’t seen the majority of the concert, maybe something had happened onstage. There’d be a simple explanation, you knew that. You knew that. But your heart was in your throat, you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t breathe. Every insecurity, every worry that had been simmering underneath your skin since you started dating Joon, that Joon had always dismissed and told you not to worry about, was now echoing about the room in one awful silence.

It felt like an eternity had passed.

‘Y/N-‘ Jungkook broke the spell, but you were faster. You didn’t even grab your things, you just needed to leave as quickly as humanly possible. You ran out the room, heading towards the cars, asking the nearest taxi to please drive, before you could see the way Yoongi’s eyes slowly cleared, the realisation that he’d truly fucked up dawning on his face.

——————————————-———————-

14 missed calls. 8 from Joon. 4 from Jungkook. 2 from Seo. You didn’t dare look at the messages that had been solidly lighting up your phone for the past hour. You just needed to get out. You needed to get out right now. You were shoving clothes into your suitcase. You’d catch a train to Gwanju, or maybe a plane would be easier, would there be any planes this late at night? Maybe the train then, or a hire car, but you weren’t really in any state to drive- Maybe you should just cut out the middle man and go straight to Seoul. You had friends there, friends from home who’d grown up split between Korea and Europe. But you didn’t want to worry then. You didn’t want them to know that this kind of relationship couldn’t work. That you were repeating the same mistakes that their parents had made, that maybe the cultural gap was too big. You didn’t want to cause them pain, you were causing everyone so much-

There was a knock at the door. You froze. Shit. You briefly debated scaling the fire escape, but thankfully dropped that idea. Maybe if you just stayed quiet, whoever it was, would go away. Maybe they’d leave you alone. Maybe you’d still be able to escape. You couldn’t be here. You couldn’t do this. You needed to leave right now. Right fucking now.

‘Y/N please,’ it was Namjoon. ‘Please open the door. It’s just me. Please I need to know that you’re ok.’

You softened slightly, your body couldn’t help but respond to his voice. But then your brain kicked into gear again. English, he was speaking in English. He was accommodating you, yet again, he had just finished a concert and he was probably exhausted and he had to deal with you, Yoongi’s words bouncing around your head. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breath. You couldn’t-

You heard some soft swearing behind the door. ‘Ok I’m coming in Y/N,’ Namjoon slowly entered the room. He had an idea about what had happened, he’d seen you react like this before, he was just glad you were still at the hotel. He walked slowly towards you, arms outstretched like he was approaching a stray. He’d made sure to get rid of every single bit of his anger before coming to find you. He’d ripped into Yoongi and Yoongi had taken it, stood there limply and said nothing. Still high from the stage, he would’ve punched him if it hadn’t been for Jin and Jungkook holding him back. He’d forced himself to calm down before going to find you, he knew he it couldn’t come near you in this state.

He’d phoned the hotel to check you were there before sending Hobi ahead with explicit instructions to not to knock but just make sure that your hotel room light was still on and let him know if you left.

‘It’s ok baby,’ he almost whispered. ‘It’s ok, it’s ok,’ he softly repeated until he was close enough to envelop you in a hug. You initially resisted before allowing yourself to break down and cry. Namjoon held the back of your head to the crook of his neck, kissing the top of your head as he continued to repeat the mantra. Your legs started to go and he swiftly carried you to the bed. He didn’t let you go. He wouldn’t let you go. He controlled his own breathing, holding down the anger that bubbled just below his skin. He took your shaking hand and kissed each finger tip with such care and love before placing it flat against his chest You focussed on his heart, it’s even beats, strong and steady. You matched it’s rhythm with your fingers and eventually your breath followed.

‘It’s ok. You’re ok. I love you. I love you so much,’ Namjoon whispered sweet nothings into your hair and you focussed more on the feeling of his lips than his actual words. Eventually your eyes became heavy and you thankfully slipped away from this awful evening.

Morning came and Namjoon was still holding you. He was reluctant to let you go. Your head was heavy and you felt like were moving underwater. This was often the way after a bad night. You’d finally learnt to recognise the signs, learnt to treat them as something external, symptoms, side affects, not personal failings, character flaws.

Namjoon had learnt too. Just as you had so quickly become attuned to his bad days, the days he couldn’t leave the bed, the days he communicated solely through text messages and grunts, the days he was tired of fronting, tired of masking. It’d been hard, so hard. But you’d eventually let him in too. Let him take care of you. Stopped being so vigilant to everyone else’s needs and let him catch you.

You both stayed in bed for a long time, waking up slowly before letting yourselves fall back asleep again. Joon ordered room service and made you tea, forcing you to drink something and nibble on toast. Wordlessly and easily you moved in time with the other, understanding each others signals. Only the occasional ‘come on’, ‘jagi’, or ‘baby,’ from Namjoon as he coached you into returning back to your body. He’d put the phones somewhere you both couldn’t see them, and while you read, he went and drew you a bath.

The sound of the crowds, thickly ringing the hotel, continued to echo into the afternoon. Ideally Namjoon had wanted to take you somewhere outside, go for a walk to a park or a convenience store, something easy and familiar. But that simply wasn’t possible.

‘Jagiya,’ he called softly to you, still lying in bed, reading your book and tracing the late afternoon sun spots. ‘I’m taking you home tomorrow, is that ok?’

You nodded softly, allowing Namjoon to drag you across the bed into his arms. You felt numb. You felt tired.

——————————————————————

‘Absolutely not.’

Namjoon was trying to find his current reading book before heading to the studio. He’d reluctantly returned to work a couple days after you’d both come back to Seoul. You’d insisted, insisted that you were ok now. Maybe he’d jumped the gun.

‘You are not going anywhere near him, especially not alone.’ He came and stood in the doorway of your study, like he could physically stop you from leaving.

‘Jin is leaving in a couple of days, I’m not going to be the cause of any tension or awkwardness that’ll ruin his send off. You guys need each other more than ever now.’

You get up, matching his stance.

‘You haven’t done anything,’ he punctuated the ‘you’. ‘If anyone’s ruined anything it’s him. He crossed the fucking line.’

You sigh. Your fingers graze his arms, you can feel the anger vibrating just under there. He pretends it’s not there, he pretends you don’t know. He thinks he’s protecting you. You don’t say anything, just gently need the tension from his arms.

His hands eventually fall to your hips before travelling up your back and neck. He leans down and kisses you, your face between his hands like an offering. Its not horny. Its gentle. It’s protective. It’s like you’re the most precious thing in the word. ‘I won’t let him hurt you again.’ He whispers, refusing to even let your eyes slip from his grasp.

‘I know’, you whisper back. ‘I know Joonie. you’re good jooni, so good.’

——————————————————————

Yoongi hadn’t attempted to reach out to you since the night of the concert. Not that he would usually text you, it’d be more disturbing if he had.

As soon as Joon had left for the studio, you texted Jungkook to let him know phase 1 was complete. Jungkook’s job was to keep Joon distracted just long enough to execute phase 2. Before you could think about it too much, you picked up your phone and dialled.

‘Meet me at the convenience store in Dosan. I want to talk.’

——————————————————————

Mid afternoon the streets were almost deserted in Gangnam. Everyone was working or at least trying to avoid the mid afternoon heat. You sat at a plastic picnic table, your back against the shop’s glass windows and your feet up on the bench. You sipped on your coffee - hot drinks in hot weather, you’d learnt that working service - and watched the fruit cellar obnoxiously ring his bell, hopping from one dappled island of shade to another. If the coward didn’t show then at least you’d had a pleasant afternoon.

Two bottles of beer were carefully placed on the table, the clink of glass bringing you back to reality. ‘I thought you might like something stronger than coffee.’

Yoongi’s face was almost completely covered - the classic idol combo of bucket hat, sunnies and face mask - but he still radiated sheepishness.

You say nothing, and watch him eventually open the bottle and pour you a glass. It was unnecessarily formal for a convenience store. But you thought, let him play host. Let him show the foreigner good korean table etiquette.

You take a swig and return to watching the fruit seller. He has some customers now. It’s quite busy. They’ll need to form a line.

You’re both silent for a long time. Neither one of you are great conversationalists and Yoongi seems to be on the brink of an aneurysm. Eventually you relent.

‘Listen,’ your Korean is tense but you know it’s correct, you’ve made sure it’s correct, you refuse to give him an inch. ‘You were right the other night. It’s fucked up how the west and Europe looks at Asia, especially relatively new democracies like Korea. We hold them to,’ you gesture with your hand as you look for the word, ‘unbelievably high standards and then judge them for it. we judge you from democracies that are far far from perfect, democracies that are always on the edge of fascism, democracies that are built off the blood and backs of slavery, colonialism and ecological devastation. We forced you all to speak English and now English is the lingua Munda. You’re right to be angry, you’re right to be upset, especially considering the awful things this country has had to deal with from the likes of the USA. It must be incredibly frustrating and patronising to have to learn English, conduct interviews in English and be constantly asked for everything to be in English, to be considered worthy of international recognition. If anything you guys are proof that you don’t need English at all to dominate the global stage.’

Yoongi went to open his mouth then, but you waved him away.

‘But that doesn’t mean that you get to talk to me like that. Not you. Not anyone. Everything that you said, I’ve thought about myself ten times over and ten times worse. Namjoon and I have had so many conversations about this; before I came to Korea I had some understanding of the history of violence and colonialism this country had been subjected to for centuries, from the Japanese, from the US. But I still came to it from s western, trans-Atlantic understanding of colonialism and I’ve been working and researching to understand these different histories and thoughts and ways of speaking so I can fully understand. It’s a huge part of my job Yoongi, working in Gwanju.’

You could feel yourself getting off track. You took another swig of beer and tried to rain it back. Yoongi wasn’t looking at you, he was staring out into the street. You weren’t sure if your Korean was making any sense.

‘White guilt, western guilt, it’s boring and fruitless. It puts the onus on those who’ve been subjected to these systems of systemic violence. I know this. But in that moment Yoongi what you said was cruel and hurtful and i panicked and I needed to get the fuck out of there. You were right I missed half the show, I don’t know what happened out there, but whatever it was, whatever all of,’ again you gesture wildly, ‘whatever all of this fucked up fuckery we live in is, you don’t get to use me as a…a punching bag.’

Your Korean had become shaky at the end and you’d stumbled into English just so you could finish your point. You weren’t used to defending yourself, it still went against your instincts. Your heart was racing.

For a couple minutes, the sound of your breath was all you could hear, blood rushing to your ear drums.

‘It’s not true.’

‘What?’ You look up, Yoongi was now looking directly at you.

‘You said that what I’d said had been true. It wasn’t true. None of it was true. It was xenophobic and racist. You’re right, we’re subjected to these fucked up systems but that doesn’t mean that we can weaponise them and manipulate them to hurt each other, that’s not how they will end.’

You look at him, unconsciously mouthing some of his words as you try to process them in your head.

‘I’m sorry Y/N. I’m really sorry that I hurt you. I knew about your panic attacks. I knew what I was doing. It was completely and utterly fucked up, I’m so so sorry. You’re so great with Joon and I-

‘You don’t think that.’

He faltered. ‘What?’

‘You don’t think that I’m good with Namjoon,’ you repeated. ‘Ever since we started dating, you’ve avoided me, you never talk to me.’

‘I-‘

‘In fact you often leave the room if im in it. I think the other night was perhaps the longest conversation we’ve ever had, if you can call it that.’

Yoongi seemed to close then. He drew back. You sighed, you were tired of this. ‘Namjoon acts like it doesn’t matter but you’re his best friend Yoongi. I know he’s used to telling you everything. He’s so angry right now. I don’t want to come between you two, I don’t want him to lose you. He needs you.’

Yoongi looked up suddenly at that. His eyes were bright. ‘I don’t want to lose him either.’ He whispered, quickly ducking his head and raking his hands through his hair. You were worried he might try pull it out.

‘I’m sorry i treated you the way that I did. It was cruel and unnecessary, to you and Namjoon.’

You folded your arms and cocked your head.

‘I was weary. And it wasn’t because you weren’t Korean, I’ve close friends who’ve married people not from Korea, who’ve moved abroad-‘

‘Careful,’ you interjected, smiling. ‘You’re starting to sound like those people who insist that they aren’t racist because they have black friends.’

‘-but I was worried about how it’d affect the music,’ he persisted. ‘I was worried about how Namjoon’s priorities would not only shift towards love but also across continents and languages. I was worried he’d be stretched too thin and that the music would suffer.’ He looked at you then, before voicing your deepest fears. ‘That he would suffer.’

‘I’ve known him since he was young and he wasn’t like the rest of us. He’d never allowed himself to get distracted by girls or love. He’d been 100% on the music and the group, nothing else. Part of me worried about the music, but a big part of me worried that he wouldn’t be able to handle it.’ He grabbed your hand then, he could see the guilt and panic start to fester behind your eyes. ‘Because he was falling hard for you Y/N, so hard, harder I think than any of us have fallen before.’

You nodded, unable to speak.

‘I love him Yoongi,’ you breathed, not daring to look away.

Yoongi let go of your hand, he leaned back and took a swig of beer. He fiddled with the label, tearing it into tiny pieces.

‘The truth is Y/N that I’ve never seen him so happy.’ Yoongi rolled the shreds of bottle label into tiny cigarettes and laid them in a row on the table. ‘His songwriting is on s different level and, and he’s calmer,’ your breath catches in your throat at that one. ‘He’s calmer and you can see behind his eyes, you know, he’s not…always putting up a front.’

Yoongi stopped talking then. But you didn’t dare start. You didn’t want to break the spell.

‘I said some fucked up shit the other night. One thing I said was that he must be so tired coming home to you and having to speak English, but it’s not true. I’ve never seen him so healthy, so full of energy. I don’t know your relationship, and that’s my fault, but I don’t think you drain him at all. Not in the slightest. I think you do the opposite, Y/N. Im sorry.’

Yoongi leaned back then, pretended to watch the people walking past. His shoulders slumped forward.

‘I want to be friends Yoongi.’

His head whipped around. He must have misheard you. ‘Excuse me?’

‘I want to be friends Yoongi.’ You repeat again, smiling at him.

He blinks at you. ‘What is this? Primary school? You want to be my friend? Is it that easy?’

‘It can be. If you want it to be.’

Yoongi leaned back before suddenly smiling and getting up from the table with outstretched arms. ‘Come here, noona.’

You laugh and meet him in the hug.

‘You’re older than me!’

He grips you in a bare hug and shakes you from side to side. ‘Doesn’t matter, you’re far wiser than I will ever be.’

Suddenly a car pulls up and Jungkook is apologetically staring at you both from the driver’s seat. Before any of you can register what’s going on, Namjoon has vaulted out of the passenger side, across the car and scooped you into his arms.

‘Oh my god, I was so worried.’ His hands moved across your face and hair as if to make sure everything was where he’d last left it. ‘I’ve been trying to call you for the last hour but you haven’t been answering. I was freaking out and then Jimin said that Yoongi had also gone awol and hadn’t been in his studio for at least an hour and we put two and two together-‘

It was at that moment that Namjoon remembered Yoongi standing there, his arms swinging from where you’d been ripped from them. Namjoon instinctively put himself between you and him.

‘What do you want? What did you say to her? You’ve got some fucking nerve coming anywhere near her.’

Jungkook was out the car now and fruitlessly had his hands between the two, unsure who he was going to have to hold back.

You scoffed and pushed past Joon. ‘It’s ok Joon. It’s fine.’ You kept a steady hand on his arm.

‘We talked it out. It’s ok. It’s sorted, Yoongi apologised, all is forgiven, I promise.’

Namjoon’s eyes flitted between yours and Yoongi’s, the pain in them at having to fight his best friend over his girlfriend starting to seep through.

Yoongi must’ve seen it as well because he stepped forward. ‘Joon it’s true. She called me. I apologised, atoned for my sins, we solved neo-colonialism and late capitalism, we’re good.’ Namjoon’s eyes were still tight, he wasn’t moving. Yoongi sighed and grabbed his neck before Jungkook could intervene, leaning his forehead against Joon’s. ‘She’s incredible bro. You’re lucky to have her. I’m so fucking grateful she forgave me. I can’t wait to get to know her better. Can you forgive me?’

There was an intense few seconds. Before some silent communication took place because suddenly Namjoon and Yoongi were in the deepest of hugs. The kind of bear hug guys will do, slapping each other on the back and sort of rocking back and forth. You joined Jungkook on the sidelines, leaning against the car and trying not to laugh at the greatest romance in history unfolding before your eyes.

‘I missed you bro.’

‘I missed you too.’

‘Uughh!’ Jungkook loudly groaned, ribbing you. ‘Hyung can we go get tonkatsu now or what?’

[saragarnier]

Could I request a Jay Halstead x Female Reader fic. Where Jay and reader are married and they are chasing after a suspect when reader gets shot in the stomach. After surgery to take the bullets out, she feels like she's let Jay down and worries they will never start a family. But Jay reassures her they will have a baby one day.

Healing Process

Summary: y/n got shot in front of Jay and discovered that she might not be able to have children

Pairing: jay halstead x wife! reader

Warning: shooting, guns, blood, and angst. There’s also some fluff

A/N: I really hope you’ll like that! Thank you for your request because i really love writing this. Let me know if you like it, i hope it’s like you imagined it.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

“Can you help me with the vest?” You asked to your husband, Jay Halstead, holding your hair to the side to make it easier for him.

“Of course, babe.” He reassured you, smiling softly and walking towards you; when he was right behind you, he adjusted your vest and he secured it, leaving a kiss on your neck when no one else was watching you. “The best part is taking that off, but i appreciate this too.” He whispered to your ear, making you blush.

“Jay!” You whispered back, looking at him with wide eyes. “You can’t say that at work, it’s forbidden! We both agreed to keep it as much professional as we could at work, no references to sex!”

Jay chucked, placing a kiss on your forehead and stepping back; he adjusted is own vest and positioned his gun in the holster placed on his right thigh.

He loved when you were angry and, first of all, he loved when he made you embarrassed because of his words. He perfectly knew the effect he had on you and he took advantage of that; when you reached him and tried to hit him slightly on his chest, he stepped back again.

“Come on babe, i’m just kidding!” He laughed, wrapping his arms around your waist and stopping you from hurting him; he hid his face between your hair and he sighed. “Anyway, tonight i’m gonna take that off for sure… we still have to try to have a baby, right?” He said, smiling softly and caressing your hips with his hands. He paid so much attention when he was with you, always trying to make you feel good, always trying to make you feel comfortable. Sometimes he messed around with you, mostly because he wanted to tease you and make you angry, but he always paid attention to your feelings and needs.

“Right.” You whispered, nodding slightly. You smiled again and you relaxed in his arms, even if talking about baby was difficult for you. It was three months now that you tried to get pregnant and it wasn’t easy to take those tests and, every time, discovered that you weren’t able to do it, you weren’t able to get pregnant. You really wanted to start a family with Jay, you just couldn’t stop thinking about a mini Jay running around the house pretending to be a cop like his father and his mother. It was a dream for you both, probably the biggest dream you had: starting a family with the love of your life.

“Yeah, i know. I always like, you know, the process…” you whispered, reddening. “But i’m also tired. I just want to got pregnant and i can’t understand why it hadn’t happen yet. I mean, the gynecologist said that there’s nothing wrong with my body, so… i wish that tonight will be the night.”

“It will, love.” He kissed your head again, then he let you go and he added some distance between you two, hearing Voight’s steps on the stairs. “I promise you that we’ll have a family together, but first of all we have to catch that guy, okay?”

You nodded , becoming serious at once. He was right after all, you were at work and you needed to be focused on the job, in the guy that you had to catch for murder. It was a member of a gang that decided to got revenge alone, avenging his sister that was raped by one of the rival gang. It was not an easy case at all, especially when you found the guy’s sister at the entrance, crying. She knew that her brother had took revenge on his own and she knew that it wasn’t right, that’s why she accused her own brother for murder.

It wasn’t easy to speak with her because she was the victim after all. She suffered two times: when she was raped and when she discovered that her brother killed her raper.

“I still can’t understand how strong she was to accuse his own brother for the murder of her raper. She was broken inside and, still, she chose to be by the justice’s side. It’s remarkable.”

Jay nodded, sighing.

“Yeah, i know. It’s not an easy case but we have to pay attention. Even if she asked us to not hurt her brother, we have to be careful: he’s in a gang, he already killed once and he can do it again. Don’t think about her till we got him, alright?”

You nodded again, looking at your Sergeant and the others, that were just waiting for you two; you adjusted your hair in a ponytail and you walked towards them, ready to go.

“Okay. First of all i want to remember you that we’ll have to be careful. I want you all alive at the end of the shift, am i clear?”

You all nodded, paying attention to his speech, that was never the same. Sometimes he just recommended caution and told them to came back in one piece, sometimes he remembered them that they’re all a family and that they had to be united. You knew that those were just words, but you always appreciated them, especially because they came from Voight, that always seemed cold and strict at first sight, but was also sweet and kind with everyone he cared of.

The address that the sister gave you was actually a good hint; you separated and you went to the back of the house with Jay and Kevin while Adam, Kim and Voight entered from the front.

“CPD!” You heard Adam’s voice from the other side of the house and you immediately approached the back door to open it with Jay and Kevin by your side. You busted it open and you entered with your gun pointing in front of you, then you started to check the house to verify if he was there or not.

“Clear!”

“Clear!”

“Clear!”

“Clear!”

It was actually very obvious that the offender wasn’t in the house when you entered, but the beer on the table was still cold and you immediately understood that he was near.

“It’s still cold, he must have left some minutes before our arrival.” You pointed out, looking out of the window with your gun still in your hand, even if it was pointing at the floor. When you saw a figure outside the window, you got closer to identify him, but he started running away after dropping a box of pizza.

“Shit, he’s outside! He’s heading north!” You exclaimed, running after him with Jay at your side. The others got back to the cars, trying to stop him from the road while you two kept chasing him by foot.

“CPD, stop!” You screamed, running faster with your gun still in your hands. You tightened the grip in it, not sure about using it.

Before you could even think about that, the guy, after hiding behind a car on the road, pointed a gun at you both and started shooting at you.

“Gun!” You screamed, turning around towards Jay and throwing yourself on him, trying to took him down with you, where you both would have been covered.

“Are You okay?” You asked him, worried. He nodded and you both started to respond to fire.

“10-1, 10-1. Shots fired at the police. We need backup at our location. Black male, blue jeans and green hoodie.” You said at the radio, letting the rest of the unit know where you were. You took a deep breath, then you looked at Jay.

“Cover me!”

“What? No!” He screamed, trying to hold you from changing position. “It’s too far from here, he will shoot at us. We’re safe here and the unit’s coming. Just stay here and help me, we have just to resist.”

You looked at him, at how he responded to fire again and again but it never stopped; you didn’t know how many chargers the offender had, but he had many since it didn’t stop shooting , not yet. You had to do something about it, you just couldn’t stay there, responding to fire in a very bad position. You looked at Jay and you knew that at least you had to try; you didn’t tell him what you wanted to do because you were sure it wouldn’t have approved, you just did it.

You run towards another car that was at the other side of the road and you almost made it, you would have if Jay’s hadn’t finish on of his chargers. There was just few moments when Jay took his new charger from his pocket; he didn’t know that you were in the middle of the road when it happened, he just turned around to ask you how many chargers you still had and, when he didn’t see you there, he knew.

The first thing you heard was actually Jay screaming your name, then you heard the shot. You fell on the ground feeling a sharp pain in your abdominal area and, after that, all over your body. You knew that you were hit right under the vest and you knew that you were bleeding, you knew that because it was too much pain for just a bullet stopped by the vest. It wasn’t that, you had already felt that and the pain you were feeling was much worse.

Jay finally shot at the offender and he took him right in the chest; he fell on the ground without moving the same moment the rest of the unit arrived; Kevin ran towards the offender, discovering that he was dead, while the others ran towards you.

Jay was the first by your side while the others called an ambulance for you.

“Babe, shhh… you’re good, you will be good, okay? The ambulance is on its way” Jay applied as much pressure as he could, ignoring the moan of pain that escaped your lips. He could not let you die, not between his hands, not because of the fucking charger.

“Helps is seven minutes away.” Told a woman in the radio some moments after.

“It’s too much, we have to bring her to the hospital now!” Voight said, looking at Jay and the other. “Jay, can you took her into my car? I’ll drive you two to the hospital. Advise that we’re coming with an officer being shot.”

Jay didn’t wait a second: he took you in his arms and he got you inside Voight’s car, with him by your side. Your husband never left your side, he stayed with you all the time, applying pressure to your belly, where you were hit.

“I’m sorry, i’m sorry but i have to do it, babe.” Jay whispered when you moaned in pain again, feeling his pressure just on the wound. You knew that he was just saving your life and that you would have done the same for him, but all you could think was: “please, make it stop.”

You didn’t talk, especially since you were afraid you wouldn’t have been able to do it; you were really tired and you felt the darkness falling on you. Jay’s words seemed so distant and you just wanted to sleep, just for few hours.

“No, no! Don’t sleep!”

You mumbled something with your eyes closed, hearing doors being closed hardly and feeling your body so light in your husband arms that you immediately noticed the difference when he placed you on the stretcher.

“We got her, Jay. We got her, okay?”

Will.

That was Will, Jay’s brother.

That was the last thing you remembered before the darkness won against you.

When you woke up the next day, you heard someone talking just outside your room; they seemed nervous and anxious but you couldn’t understand why. You tried to open your eyes but the light was too bright for you, so you shut them again, trying to hear your husband talking with his own brother.

“They had to remove one of her ovaries, Jay. The bullet hit her there and they couldn’t repair the damage; besides that, the uterus is still intact and the same is for the other ovary.”

Jay was just shocked. He couldn’t believe his ears, he couldn’t believe that your chance of becoming parents was fading away slowly.

“We were trying to have a baby, Will.” Your husband said, his voice broken.

“I know, i know but look, I already told you that. You can still ha-“

Before he could continue, you finally open your eyes and you looked at them, both didn’t know what to do or what to say. It seemed like Jay and Will saw you, that’s why they entered the room without finished the sentence. It was weird but you couldn’t blame them for that, especially since you just lost your chances of becoming a mother with Jay.

How could you deny him a family? Was it the best for him? Will he be happy with you even without your own kids?

It was all your fault: you should have listened to him and stayed right where he said to, you should have told him that you wanted to go again and you shouldn’t have just done it without consulting not only your partner in work, but also your partner in life.

“Babe, you’re awake finally.” Jay sighed in relief, taking your hand in his and caressing it gently. “I was so worried about you, love. Please next time just advise me before doing something so stupid, okay?”

Jay was really trying to postpone the time of the bad news, you knew that because Jay was so obvious, especially with you. He just couldn’t lie, he was too good for it, even for small lies.

“Did they really remove my ovary?” You whispered, hoping that everything you heard was just a dream.

Please, God, tell me it’s just a nightmare.

Jay got pale in seconds, looking at you with wide eyes and trying to think about something that could have helped you with that, that could have helped you feeling less worried about everything.

“Yes, they… they did.” He whispered, gulping.

You looked at him and cried, looking up at the ceiling. When he noticed how broken you looked, he squeezed your hand gently and he tried to reassure you.

“It’s all my fault, it’s my fault. Now we won’t be able to have a family together and it’s all my fault.” You cried harder, ignoring the pain that you felt when you sobbed. The stitches didn’t help you with that and it made the pain worse, but it didn’t hurt as much as the news about your ovaries.

“Babe, no, no.” He took both your hands and he obliged you to look at him in the eyes, shaking his head and looking at you, concerned. “It’s not your fault and we’ll have a family together, okay? It’s just one of the ovaries, it will be difficult to get you pregnant but we’ll do it, okay? We’ll have a family and, if we won’t we can still adopt.”

He was right, but you were too shocked to hear him; all you thought was how bad Jay wanted a family, you knew that the moment he asked you to be his wife and you knew that he always dreamed about being a dad. How could you deny him that dream?

“Maybe we should divorce.” You whispered, without fully thinking straight. “You always dream of having a family and you can’t with me. You know how many times we tried and i didn’t get pregnant; with only one ovary will be extremely difficult. You deserve a woman that can give you your own children, not someone like me…”

Jay shook his head, astounded. He couldn’t believe his ears, he could believe what you just said . Were you serious? How could you even think about that?

“What?! No!” He exclaimed, tightening your hand. “Look at me, babe. I do not care about having my own children, i just want a family WITH YOU. It won’t be the same with someone else, they’ll not be you and i only want to become a dad with you, my love. Besides, Will told that you still can become a mother, we’ll just have to rely on some specialist, maybe, that can help us with that, but we’ll have our baby, okay? You don’t have to be worried, we’ll be parents, i promise you that.”

You listened to him carefully and, slowly, you started to feel better. He was always able to help you calm down when you were panicking, and it was one of those moments. He was so sweet and calm with you, even when you said things like that, like a divorce.

Probably you would have panicked on his side, that’s why you thought that having Jay by your side as your husband was the best thing in your life.

He didn’t want to give up on having a family with you and you shouldn’t have too.

“Okay.” You whispered, nodding slowly. “I’m sorry Jay, i love you and I shouldn’t have said that.”

He sighed deeply, then he lowered down on your bed and placed a kiss on your forehead, stroking your hair gently. “Don’t worry babe, i know that you didn’t expect it and i can understand why you reacted this way, but you don’t have to give up on our family because I won’t. I love you so much, babe and we’ll be parents together.”

You nodded and relaxed, closing your eyes and taking deep breaths.

He was right.

“I love you too, Jay, i really do.” You whispered back, squeezing his hand in yours and smiling softly. “And I can’t wait to become a mother with you.”

“You’ll be the best mom in the world.” He smiled again. “And I can’t wait to see you with a belly, my love. You’ll be amazing, you already are after all.”

You blushed and chuckled, hiding your face behind your hand.

“Have the doctor said when we’ll be able to try again with the pregnancy?” You asked, after some minutes.

“Not yet baby, but you have to heal before that. When you’ll be fine, we’ll try again and trust me, i can’t wait.”

“Jay!” You chuckled, shaking your head slightly. You smiled at him and you bit your bottom lip. “You’re incredible, but i love you so much.”

“Me too baby, me too.”

[vanseerra]

The Dress - An Elucien Multi-Fic by @00oxox

Chapter 2 - T Rating - 3.6k Words

Both Elain and Lucien are plagued by their stolen moment weeks before at the townhouse. When an invite comes to him to join the Inner Circle for an evening meal, Lucien decides there is no better opportunity to finally confront the situation outright. That is, if nothing else comes in the way.

Chapter 1 found here | Ao3 Version

Elain

How hard was it to cut a stupid apple? Elain huffed, straightening her fingers out before repositioning them on the freshly-plucked yet, temperamental fruit. She curled her nails to lightly pierce the skin, cautiously slide the kitchen knife to perforate it and-

The apple rolled off the side of the cutting board.

“That’s it!” She cried, storming around the quaintly sized kitchen to a ceramic fruit bowl and snatching an orange instead.

“Something on your mind?”

Usually the homely tone of her younger sister was a warm welcome to Elain but today her presence only flustered her more. Avoiding her questioning gaze, she pierced the oranges skin, sliding it from its surface.

“Nothing interesting..”

“Really? Nothing at all?”

It was in that moment that she was entirely resentful for the mischievous effect Rhysand had had on her sister; these days she was more prone to prying and prodding. She knew the way the conversation was headed the second Feyre had opened her mouth and was decisive to deter it.

“If you must know, I’m wondering about what to make us all for dinner this evening. I know we have guests and so…”

At the mention of guests, Feyre’s mouth quipped into a small, knowing smirk. She crossed the distance of the kitchen, moving to pick up the abandoned knife and finish what Elain had tried to start. Gracefully, her blade cleanly sliced the apple, cutting it into neat sections that stacked against each other.

“Only Lucien will be here, although I’m sure he’d happily eat more than one serving if you were to make it.” She teased.

His name struck a chord within her. Colour tinted her cheeks in a rosy blush and her fists curled firmly at her sides. Her lips parted to speak but her mind was scrambling for words. Keep it together Elain. If just his name alone was enough to have her trembling like this, what would she do when he was actually there in the flesh- those piercing eyes tracking her from across the room.

She would feign sickness, she decided. Would pretend that she had caught some type of bug from her recent outing into Velaris or that she had accidentally undercooked her lunch. But wouldn’t that just bring even more attention to her? The last thing she wanted was him standing outside her bedroom door, insistent on checking on her like she knew he would do. There really was no way around this.

Ever since that afternoon, the two of them alone in the town house where somehow, they had ended up with their lips passionately exploring each other’s, she could not get him out of her head. His pull was hard to ignore before that, especially in his presence, but now it was magnetic. If she allowed her mind to drift for a moment, her thoughts would find their way to him: to the way his firm hand had felt against her back and the surprising softness of his lips against hers. His face was forever etched into the corners of her mind.

“I’m sorry.” Feyre’s words were resentful as she made her way over to Elain, now frozen in place, and rested a comforting hand upon her forearm in apology.

“I went too far. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

When her sister didn’t initially respond, she went to speak again, sorrow filling her soft gaze, but was halted by Elains cautious voice.

“Will you tell me about it? About how it works?”

Little needed to be explained about what Elain was referring to; sometimes a sisters bond and understanding was clearer than words.

“Of course.”

The two of them sat upon the kitchen counters stools, the plate of finely sliced apples between them. In the window overlooking the garden, the sun had begun to set, the deep oranges flooding into the room as the two sisters spoke. They had been discussing the intricate details of the bond for the past hour, with Feyre going into deep descriptions of how the bond was formed, what it meant culturally to the fae and even the reprocussions of accepting or denying it. Elain apprehensively nibbled on the apple pieces as Feyre spoke to her, turning the influx of information over in her mind.

There was still so much to ask. No matter how many questions she put forth to her sister, seeking concrete answers, only more seemed to bubble to the surface. The one thing that has been abundantly clear to her, however, was that she was under no obligation to accept the bond. She now knew the significance of it and how important it was to the fae, more so than she had when it had first reared its head. Throughout, Feyre had been on Luciens defence. The male was kind, patient and loyal. He would not pursue her. Despite the weight of the bond and its apparent importance, he had respected Elain to a degree she had not realised.

It made a lot of sense to her. The way he positioned himself on the opposite side of the room to her, the way he often avoided her gaze, the tension and restraint he had shown her before that had happened in the very room next to where she and her sister were now sitting. On that day, she had seen firsthand just how hard the male was trying to hold himself back- his hands had practically shaken as he helped her with her dress. And when that tension had finally broken…

“Does the bond make up feelings?”

Feyre cocked her head as she considered the female's question. She thought for a long second, weighing the significance before speaking carefully.

“The bond isn’t… It creates a pull. It draws two people together but it doesn't,” she waved her hands around in space to demonstrate what she meant,

“It doesn't make you fall for someone.” She finished.

Elains heart skipped in her chest. Could it be true? That this whole time she had assumed the crush she’d formed had been manufactured: that the ache in her chest and warm feelings that bubbled at the sound of his voice had been a result of just the bond. If what Feyre was saying was correct…

“There are definitely fae that meet the other half of their bonds and realise it isn’t meant to be. Admittedly it isn’t very common but the bond can make mistakes.”

The older of the two could not feign the look of confusion that painted her expression. She immediately had a dozen more questions spring into her mind but the thought of hearing anymore made her chest ache and her head dizzy. She turned to her sister.

“I… if you’ll excuse me, I need to prepare for dinner.”

The knot in her throat tightened as she spoke and rose to turn on the faucet, her back turned to Feyre. Thankfully, Feyre rose slowly and made her way to the door, before providing a comforting word.

“I know it’s… a lot of information, Elain. These things are… complicated. Take your time with it. You know where I am.”

And with that, with the gentle rustle of her long skirt, she left the room.

Alone with only the company of the setting sun, now casting rays of deep amber onto the counters, Elain mindlessly began preparing a meal for dinner. Nuala and Cerridwen had offered to assist her but she had politely turned them down, claiming that she had a headache and wanted to work alone. With her hands aimlessly kneading a batch of fresh dough, she allowed her thoughts to drift to the conversation she’d just had.

The mating bond was important, but it wasn’t. The mating bond was fate, but it could be wrong. The mating bond could be accepted, but it could be rejected. The mating bond did not manufacture feelings. That thought alone had her pausing, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead and accidentally spreading flour along her brow. She mumbled a small curse.

Just what was she supposed to do now? She had made wrongful assumptions this whole time and cast Lucien as some sort of imposing force on her will and nature. She had purposefully avoided him until she could no longer bear it and blamed their moment of passion upon a falsity. Guilt swelled in her stomach. There was no way she could confront the male now; approach him like some lovesick girl and confess her blossoming feelings, flowers in hand. A cringe ran through her. She had been that girl once and look where it had led her. Alone, single and the only unwed Archeron sister.

“The night court certainly has some strange ideas on fashion.”

His voice, deep and honeyed, hit her like a ton of bricks. Warmth pooled in her chest, spilling to grip her ribs as she tightened her hold on the roller. It had been a mistake to look up from the food- meeting his stare sent a sharp shock down her spine and her eyes could not slip away. She quickly grasped for the cause of his taunt and upon realising, aggressively wiped the loose flour dotting her forehead. With a deep breath she spoke.

“Are you always that rude to your hosts?” Surprisingly, she snapped, the words like venom leaving her before she could comprehend them. He seemed startled by her response, his body going still and eyebrows raising slightly at her sharpness.

“Apologies, lady, I meant no harm.” He raised his hands in solemn surrender.

Lucien

It had been Feyre’s idea to host him at the townhouse that evening. That is what he told himself over and over again in the mirror as he looked over his outfit choice. He had opted for somewhat formal attire, sporting his usual autumn court styled colours, and had braided his long hair back in an intricate plait. As he brushed down the length of his fitted jacket, he turned the event over in his mind, ruminating on how his presence would be perceived by the one person he had been unable to stop thinking about. Would she be pleased to see him? Or would his company only impose on her and force her into pleasantries in front of her family?

Lucien had not seen the female since their intimate and entirely unanticipated moment a few weeks before. At the time, he was lost to the moment, absorbed in his encompassing feelings and the pull of the bond. But now, upon reflection, he realised he still had no idea about where the two of them stood. They hadn’t had a chance to communicate when they were brashly interrupted by a booming drunk Cassian and not a single letter had graced his door since either.

Starting to unwind the threads of their situation exhausted him. Their relationship, or lack or one, had been a source of many conflicting feelings for him over the time their bond had snapped. He knew deeply and with full truth that he yearned for her: for her presence, her companionship, for the chance to flourish and grow alongside her. What she thought of him, however, was completely lost to him.

He straightened with a sudden sense of resolve. This was the perfect opportunity. When else would he get the chance to express all of these confusing thoughts to her without feeling as if he was imposing himself by his own invitation? Feyre had wanted him there and he had no cause to believe Elain had denied the idea. He would approach her before the meal to clear the air before they set a heavy and uncertain tone upon the evening.

~

Standing there before her, Lucien ate his words.

She was captivatingly beautiful. He had walked into the kitchen with such purpose and had utterly stilled at the sight of her. He had no doubt that she was wearing only the most complimenting and felicitous gown but what really drew his eyes was the pure beauty of her face. Her soft eyes were warm and doe-like, her round lips were plump and redded with a subtle tint and her hair… its delicate waves bounced down her back, pinned to the side with a graceful pearl clip. Even the concentration of her face as she kneaded the bundle of dough was stunning. Her drawn brows then brought his attention to the scatter of flour across her forehead, snapping him out of his trance.

Elains curt reaction to his tease had him frozen to the spot. He hadn’t expected her to be so cold to his light quip: such a contrast to the mood of their last conversation. Despite her snappiness, however, he could detect a different feeling from her, one that was warm and alive and curious.

“Sorry.” Her sudden response had his attention back on her in an instance,

“I didn’t mean it. I’m not… myself today,” she admitted with a trace of guilt.

Was she hurt? His heart sped at the thought, a hint of anxiety flooding him as he scanned for the possible cause. Eyes trailing across her body, he quickly sought for any signs of injury and pain and thankfully saw nothing: no cuts or wounds or bandages. Perhaps it was an illness?

“Are you unwell?”

“No… I don’t actually know.” There was so much uncertainty to her tone. It was a struggle to figure out exactly what she was feeling and how he could help. He hated how worthless it made him feel- to see his mate in such discomfort and to not have a solution. He supposed there was something he could do.

“Would you like some help? With the cooking?” He quipped his head to the scatter of unfinished food before her.

“No, that would be improper, you’re our guest.”

“I insist.”

At that, he unfastened his jacket and slid it off his shoulders, draping it carefully over a stool before rolling up his sleeves to above his elbows. He didn’t fail to notice the way her delicate eyes trailed every movement, the round her lips parting as if she were to say something. When nothing emerged from them, he rinsed his hands in the sink and picked up some spring onions to chop. Elain only gave him a tight smile and went back to her kneading, a light wash of pink now tainting her cheeks.

The two of them worked tirelessly: Lucien preparing the large array of vegetables with Elain focusing on the dough. Throughout, neither said a single word and a slight air of awkwardness had begun to settle in the room. It was the very thing he had been wanting to avoid. Still, he continued to work, dancing around Elain as he reached for things beyond her and grabbed seasoning and spices from the cupboards.

“This is so awkward...” Somehow, the hushed words that escaped her caught him off guard at their poignant honesty. He stared at her for a brief moment before throwing his head back in laughter and caught the wary grin that flashed over her face in response. She never failed to surprise him.

“I dare to say, lady, that you may be the one making it that way.” He teased, lifting a brow.

“Excuse you?” Her hands went onto her hips in mock annoyance. “You are the one not saying anything to me!”

“Are you not guilty also? Seems rather cruel of you to pin it on me when you are committing the same offence.” He teased and she scoffed at the retort.

“Plus,” he added, “you are my host are you not? Shouldn’t you be entertaining me?”

“Oh so I’m boring now.”

“Those are your words and not mine.”

“Perhaps if I’m so boring, you should find a more exciting woman to seduce.”

Seduce. The word struck him like a bolt of lightning, his blood igniting and mouth going dry. One word, and the pulse of his heart was an unrelenting drum, echoing around his body in a violent plea. More. He tightened his jaw into a firm clench, refusing to lift his gaze to her in fear of what truth may be unveiled in that expression of hers. When he said nothing, she quickly piped up, the notes of her tone nervous and regretful.

“By that I mean…”

“I’m seducing you?” His response was deep yet taut, carefully rolling off his tongue. Finally, his eyes rose to meet hers, his mechanical one focusing and unfocusing on the startled female before him.

Elain

The shift in Luciens manor could only be described as transfixing. As he spoke, his words a low grumble that sent a wave of heat through her, she felt the bond pluck with anticipation. Her bright eyes widened and hands stilled at their task, willing to take in every small action he made. She noted the shift in his eyes: how they had darkened and narrowed in on her, seemingly absorbing and devouring her entirely.

“I…”

Without much warning, he moved, approaching her with slow intent and carefully backed her against the counter. He did not touch her but instead braced her body, his hands gripping the wood at either side of her. This close, she had to raise her chin to meet his stare, his large frame suddenly that much more imposing. Not that she minded- her heart rang and rang at the intimacy of the action.

“If you think standing silently in a room is me seducing you Elain,” he leant close to her, his cheek grazing hers and mumbled into her ear,

“I wonder just how flustered you’d get at an actual attempt.”

She could not restrain from the gentle whimper that escaped her lips, nor the shakiness of her palms as they gripped the counter behind her tightly. In response, he gave a soft hum of his own, pulling back from her to take in the drunken expression in her eyes. It was near impossible to meet his stare: so intense that his pupils seemed doused in flames. She knew, though, she needed to retort, to match that fiery conviction.

Willing her speech until a low, alluring timbre, she glanced at him under her lashes with a sense of challenge.

“Do it.” She purred. “Make me so flushed I beg you to continue.”

Lucien growled, gritting his teeth with pure restraint. The grip at the table behind them intensified as he visibly held himself back from acting upon her wishes. If the look in his eyes was fiery before, they were now alight with raging need.

“You’re playing a dangerous game.” Every word was clamped, fighting its way past his tight lips. Seeing him like this, at the edge of letting himself give in to all his base desires, had her blood heating and willing her limbs to act on her own screaming wishes.

She was just about to abandon all restrictions when the shifting of a door handle snapped them both apart from each other, like repelled magnets. Lucien cleared away from her, spinning to look busy at the sink behind him. Elain was a lot less successful, turning to face the opening door with both hands frozen mid-air and a haunted expression upon her face. The drill of her heart rattled with no sign of ending as the person made themselves completely aware.

Mor strolled absentmindedly into the room, taking a bite from the ruby red apple in her hand. Her eyes roamed the scene before her: of the stiffened fright of Elains expression, of the turned, suspicious back of Lucien as he ran water randomly over his palms. Following from the small tug of a smirk, she exploded into a sly laugh.

“Just what is going on in here.” She joked. “I feel like I missed something interesting!”

“It’s.. I…” Elain had forgotten how to speak, her mouth was dry and her tone was completely unnatural. Mor noticed her nerves and quickly began moving again to the adjacent door.

“Don’t stop on my accord!” And then she was gone.

At the small slam of the closing door, both Elain and Lucien tipped their heads back and laughed: gleefully and with a sense of roguishness. They caught each other’s gazes and when Elain bit her lip in a mock sense of guilt, they laughed even harder.

“I don’t know about you, but I feel utterly scandalised!” His words were laced with that hearty joy as he made his way over to her.

The ease of their laughter came as a stark shock to her. How simple it was to be by his side and to joke with each other as if they had been close for years. It was so natural and in a way she didn’t know how to admit, even to herself, felt like home. She didn’t linger on the thought for too long, however, wanting to enjoy the comforting buzz teasing with him brought upon herself. How she wished it would never end.

“Is this our fate now? To be graced by a new presence every time we flirt?” She giggled, trailing her eyes slowly upwards as he came closer. The honey rich scent of him was impossible to ignore at such a distance.

“It is our curse…” he grumbled before clearing his throat and standing taller, a look of sudden determination passing over him. He opened his mouth once then twice before finally speaking again.

“Let’s break it and meet away from here.”

“Away from here?”

“Yes. Come to mine for dinner… I’ve been known to be a good host. One that doesn’t stand around awkwardly in kitchens, at least.”

She scoffed, folding her arms across her chest and raising a brow. A small trace of a sly grin pulled at her lips.

“If you’re trying to ask me on a date, you’re not doing a good job of it.”

Lucien mirrored her, raising his own brow.

“Oh so it’s a date now?”

A/N: I originally never ended ‘The Dress’ to be a Multi-Fic but the opportunity to explore Eluciens awkward and budding relationship was too good to pass up. I imagine there will be one final chapter after this one where some more concrete truths shall be revealed. Thanks for all the support so far!

I also now have an Ao3 which you can find under the same name :)

[macverse]

Yuletide

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It's Christmas and you finally have time alone with your super soldier

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A/N: Thank you's too @empty-sigh(18+), @moderndaymystic, @sarahdonald87 (18+), and @babyjakes (18+), @daddyneeds-you (18+), @serephineh, @bloodbending, @fucktoyfelix (18+), @fandomfluffandfuck (18+), @quinnandersonwrites for inspo, motivation and reference content.

I do not write smut y'all. I was blushing all the way through this. Not because of the smut. Because I was writing it. I read things like this all the time. Writing it was an experience! But the idea had to let out and here we are. I'm glad all of these beautiful people's pages exist and help me through this fic. Thank you.

---

“Y/N, come here,” Steve calls you from the living room, “What is this.”

You’d spent most of the afternoon making the living room in the rented cabin nestled in the woods feel cozy and inviting. It had been a while since you and Steve had had any time alone together and you wanted to make it special. You found an abundance of candles in the store closets and piled every cozy blanket and pillow over every seating surface and on the floor. You imagined Steve would have you moaning and writhing all over the room and couldn’t wait to feel the soft chunky knit pillows and faux fur blankets on your overstimulated skin. 

You transformed the living room while Steve was outside chopping firewood. While you raced around the cabin for supplies, you stopped for a moment to watch him through a window that looked out over the yard. You felt your breath quicken as he swung the axe up and over his head as if it were nothing, easily gliding through log after log, the large snowflakes steadily falling around him. Something about the steady and repetitive thwack of the axe caused your attention to hone in on the space between your thighs. Nothing about the simple act of chopping wood should have made you feel aroused but your body tingled in all the right places as you watched Steve’s muscles work under the tight, long-sleeved shirt he wore as he worked through the pile of wood. 

When Steve came back in, you’d pretended nothing was going on as he placed the basket filled with the large pile of wood he carried inside. You handed him a steaming hot cup of coffee and diverted him from the living room by telling him you’d started the shower so that it would be nice and warm. He kissed you sweetly and headed off to the shower none the wiser to what you’d been up to. You were supposed to be making Steve an apple pie while you’d been purposefully redecorating. You tried to make up for lost time weaving the lattice top and didn’t hear him as he snuck by, finding your surprise before you had meant to reveal it.

“With the way that snow is coming down out there, I thought we could spend some time together however you’d like,” you said feigning innocence, “You’ve just finished a long mission, Steve. I thought maybe I could help you relax.”

Steve looks around the room, taking in the near fire-starting amount of candles and all the plush items before turning to look at you, “You did all this for me, dollface?”

You nod sweetly in reply and slowly unbutton the thick cable knit cardigan you’d had on to keep warm. Underneath, you had on a cropped wrap top that gently cupped your naked breasts and a long peasant skirt that would easily slip from your body the minute you unbuckled the belt from your waist. You shivered slightly as the warmer material fell to the ground. When you saw Steve's eyes darken as he took in your exposed skin you knew that you’d be warm enough soon. It wasn’t just the sight of your exposed body that was turning his mood. It was the sight of every tattoo on your skin. 

The first time you'd done anything sexual with Steve, he'd paid special attention to the places where your original tattoos were. When you’d met him, you’d only had a few simple, small tattoos. The change in his mood over the few lines of ink surprised you. He gripped your hip almost too roughly where you had an outlined heart. He licked and nipped at your skin with his teeth, alternating between your sensitive nipples and catching your skin just below the swell of your breasts where you had a line of text. His large hands securely held down and stroked your wrist where you had your favorite book quote as he drove into you. Long gone was the good ‘ol boy routine that had swept you off your feet. It was replaced with something primal, darker, and hungry. 

Afterward, he’d asked you about them. It wasn’t just curiosity. Steve wanted to know what they meant. Wanting to know why you got them. Wanted to know how you felt when you were getting them. It made you feel as if he was making sure that your tattoos were not connected to anyone other than you. That was when he confessed to you how much he liked tattoos. Told you about how it made him feel, to see the ink permanently there on someone’s skin. How hard it made him to see something he’d drawn on someone's skin. How uncontrollably he felt when he saw it if he’d put it there himself. How much the idea of permanently marking someone like that turned him on.

He’d confessed how badly he’d wanted one himself but never could because the super soldier serum running through his veins was constantly healing him and erasing any ink he’d put on his skin. You’d asked him if he wanted to do that to you, to mark your skin. That was the first time you’d seen his mood turn like this, a dark lust building in his eyes. They burned with the desire that heated you to your core. He was back on you before you realized, filling your already aching cunt with his quickly hardening cock, his voice several octaves lower cut right through you as he said over and over again ‘yes’, ‘mine’, ‘gonna mark you’, ‘all fucking mine’.

That was when he started lovingly mapping out the tattoos that adorn your skin now...

Read the rest on my AO3.

[filthforfriends]

Satin, Lace, and Other Pretty Things

Reviving this fic for part 4!

Thomas x fem reader

Word count: 3.6k

CW: Its kinky!!

Digging through what you affectionately referred to as your little box of horrors, was even more fun than you anticipated. You’d forgotten the full contents of your sex toy collection since you’d moved in with Thomas and stuffed it at the bottom of a closet. He had a barricade up that you were always testing the bounds of, trying to gently work around. Anal fingering? Fine (as long as you didn’t really talk about it). Rimming? Nope. 

Thomas made up for this with orgasms galore, so you were far from bored. However, you also knew that wiping out a 10 inch neon green dick and balls with a suction cup at the base would just intimidate, and maybe also traumatize him. So you kept the more adventurous items in your collection tucked away in case they became appropriate later on. At the bottom of this innocuous looking plastic container, was your strap on harness. It was simple, because that's all you could afford when it came to quality leather and an adjustable o-ring.

You sat with your back to the wall, amongst phallices and vibrators spread out on the hardwood floor, running the black straps through your fingers. Tragically, this harness hadn’t gotten much use, and it was time to rectify that. After a few minutes of snapping dildos and o-rings in and out of place, your suspicions were confirmed: nothing here was small enough for Thomas’ comfort. 

There’s no point in having skills without the tools to match, so you skimmed reviews of a few sex stores. After you’d determined which had the most extensive merchandise, came the question of where to put the harness. Obviously everything else was tucked away under two boxes of CD’s kept for sentimental reasons and your summer sandals. But should you leave the harness out so Thomas could get used to it? 

Tossing it on the bed to feign casualness was the bold option, but maybe excessively so. Perhaps with your other toys in the night stand? To avoid giving him a heart attack, you fold it next to your lingerie in the dresser. The placement gives him the opportunity to close the drawer and pretend he’d seen nothing. Plus Thomas’ intentions were already nefarious if he was rooting around in your underwear drawer. A far better alternative to reaching for the lube and finding your hand tangled in a pegging harness. Thomas would be so full of excitement and anxiety that he’d simply spontaneously combust.

Getting him put back together this afternoon had been challenging enough. After a few minutes of cuddling, Thomas’ suggestion to shower together almost derailed all progress. He had been absolutely insistent that you cum too. Nevermind your explanation that his pleasure was reward enough.

“I’m not expecting an orgasam.”

“Well I have an expectation of myself that I will give you an orgasam,” he insisted.

“Thomas I can’t cum knowing I’m holding up Maneksin’s meeting with the biggest fashion brand in the world. Too much pressure!”

“Well if you’re struggling to cum, then I am holding up the Gucci fitting,” he emphasized. The argument was ridiculous, but so endearing that you laughed.

“You’re insufferable,” you huff, affectionately. “Alessandro looks like Jesus, I can’t disappoint Jesus this way.” You’re already giving in, letting Thomas tip your face towards his by holding your chin between his thumb and index finger. 

“Remember that I was an altar boy. I think he’ll make an exception.” Thomas kisses you softly at first, like an invitation. 

“Are you sure?” Kiss. “Because -” Kiss. “Smiting and all.” Kiss. His mouth grows more passionate as he tries to shut you up. Thomas backs you around the bathroom door frame, into the bedroom. “Don’t wanna -” Kiss. “Risk it.” 

“Please stop talking.”

“‘Kay,” you grin. No one can say you didn’t try. Just when you’ve settled on pissing off Sony, Gucci, God, and everyone, Thomas’ phone rings from the kitchen. He lets out a heavy, irritated sigh, smacking your ass for good measure before he bounds out of the room. Holding your breath to listen, you recognize his business tone.

“Is it Jesus?” you call, humor only loud enough to reach Thomas’ ears and not whomever he was talking to. When you enter the kitchen he’s leaning against the sink, smiling even as he speaks in a monotone. 

“Alright, thanks.” He beckons with an outstretched hand, folding you into his side. You wrap your arms around his waist and eavesdrop, feeling snug and affectionate.

“-- important in the industry. Even taking you guys on was an act of good faith.” Thomas sighs and rolls his eyes.

“I know this, I know.”

“They had a dozen more high profile options. You’re here because of the aesthetics, it all serves a marketing purpose. So this meeting you need to be extra gracious.”

“When has my professionalism failed you?”

“What I’m saying is unless you hate it, don’t ask them to redesign. Smile say ‘it’s an honor to represent your brand.’ It’s about centering a modern interpretation  –”

“Of Italian style,” Thomas droned, hitting his head against the cupboard dramatically.

“Supporting their vision. Being the vessel for their vision.”

“You’ve already prepped us on this.”

“Well it’s important enough that it bears reminding,” he snaps. “Considering you’re not in the car on your way right now, you do need to hear it.” Thomas grimaced and you stifled a giggle behind your hand. The rep from their talent management continued ranting and Thomas held the phone away from his ear.

“What the fuck does he want me to say?” he whisper-yells in exacerbation.

“Say that you’ll be the perfect brand ambassador.” He nods, sighing and giving a few more mindless affirmatives.

“I’ll be the perfect brand ambassador, I promise.”

“I won’t let anyone in the club puke on the Gucci clothes,” you add.

“And I won’t let any –” Thomas stops himself and ends up shaking with a silent chuckle that shows his gums. “Alright, I’ll leave right now. Thank you so much, Nico. Yeah, bye.” Once Thomas was out the door, you got to refocus your attention. Putting on some innocuous clothing, you drove to Peaches n’ Cream, an establishment not to be confused with an ice cream store. Sex stores intimidated most people, but you felt oddly comfortable. No retailer had better, more knowledgeable customer service. Not to mention shopping for your boyfriend was straightforward: just get the smallest size of everything. 

“Baby, are you home?” You didn’t expect him to be, but wanted to check before casually dumping a dildo and butt plugs on the dining room table. Of course the house was empty, which gave you time to situate your new O-ring and strap on. The snaps were stiff, so it took a couple minutes and some of your sanity to get them pried open. However, great struggle reaps great rewards, and soon you are adjustinging the harness in the hallway mirror.

There was nothing quite like the rush of power from wearing a strap on and harness. You had all the equipment for any feasible activity at your disposal. Just fantasizing about the possibilities while wearing a cock was fun. Thomas undone and grabby, sweaty hands slipping off your hips while his brow furrowed. The attached dildo was comically small, and you almost felt silly posing in front of the mirror, but this wasn’t about your preferences and you’d never make your boyfriend feel that his capabilities are inadequate.

When he finally gets home, you’re doing skincare in the bathroom, trying to keep yourself conscious. If he takes off his boots it’ll rouse you again anyways, might as well be awake to greet him. Thomas pokes his head around the doorframe. 

“Hey, sorry for keeping you up,” he winces. 

“It happens, baby.”

“Okay, I’m gonna change.” Thomas blows you a kiss with a wink before disappearing down the hall, to the bedroom. When you follow behind not thirty seconds later, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, cock in hand. 

“Well, isn’t this familiar,” you chuckle. 

“Oops.” Thomas is bashful at getting caught, his motions slowing to a stop. “You were so tired, but I’ve been thinking about the underwear all day and now I’m just…I was fighting not to get hard the whole time.” You snort at how receptive he is, propping a couple pillows against the headboard so you can sit comfortably. As you climb onto the bed, Thomas desperately waits for direction. Submission came so naturally to him. He probably didn’t even realize that he was deferring power your way.

“Would you feel comfortable with me being part of this?”

“Jacking off?” he asks in confusion. 

“Mhm, remember what I said this morning? Can I watch you practice?” He thinks about it, eyes cast downward.

“I don’t really feel like practicing right now,” he mumbles.

“What about sitting on my lap?” You try to make the request casually amidst all the internal screaming at the thought of his masturbating while seated on your thighs. 

“Yeah, okay,”Thomas nods, face open. It’s clear he feels comfortable with this request in a way he didn’t with the other. Maybe he wasn’t ready for that vulnerability right now.

“Take off your bottoms so you’re comfortable and straddle.” Thomas wiggles out of his jeans and slides his boxers off. He stands next to the headboard. His physicality is cautious as he crawls onto the bed. You pat your thighs with one hand and use the other to beckon him forward. It's a position he’s likely never taken before, which is why Thomas is so awkward when he swings a leg over. In the process of shifting, he falls onto his hip, hand slipping on the comforter.

“Sit back on your heels and take a deep breath.” While Thomas obeys you run your hands along his flank reassuringly. Finally, he begins to settle. He looks at you, his cock, his hands, and his shirt where it brushes the head of his shaft. He looks, but he doesn’t touch himself without prompting.

“Kitten, I need you to really listen for a moment.” You take Thomas’ face between your hands and his attention is singular. “I am so proud of you for saying no to me just now. I am beyond thrilled that you feel comfortable doing that. Thank you.” He nods wordlessly, shoulders hunched forward as he tries to make himself smaller. In Tommy’s dreamy, round eyes is a plea for direction. 

“Lube, then you can touch yourself.” Thank god you’d been the one to discover this side of him, to teach him about it. Someone who didn’t love him as much as you did might not be so careful. Or they might judge him, shame him, and he’d stuff this beautiful, vulnerable part of him back down for good. While Thomas begins working his cock with a slick hand, you’re trying to quell the raging inferno that burned within. He looked so pretty stroking himself like this.

“You did the exact right thing, kitten. You did such a good job.” Nodding repeatedly, Tommy runs his forefinger and thumb over the just ridge of his cock frantically. His grip is so tight on the upstroke Thomas accidentally hurts himself and grunts in pain. In his widened eyes, you can see how much he wants to believe you, coupled with surprise at the strength of his own arousal.

“Be gentle with yourself, kitten,” you warn. His hand slows but the head of Thomas’ cock is already crimson. He pouts his bottom lip and screws his eyes shut while letting out a pitiful whine. Something has awoken inside Tommy and he was intimidated by it. You could feel that he wanted you to fix it even though he couldn’t put a name to it himself. 

“Closer,” you encourage, pulling him in by his hips so Thomas was flush against you.

“But it's gonna get on your shirt,” he protests, transitioning into fucking his own fist. 

“That’s okay! I can change my shirt, baby.” You get a hand in his hair, run it to the back of his neck while your other grips his glute. Tommy’s eyes flutter and he whines for something more. You wrap your arms around him, rubbing his back, kissing his chest, but his sounds just become more insistent.

“Kitten, you’re going to have to be patient while I learn how to take care of you.” He falls totally silent which wasn’t the goal at all. “No pretty kitty, keep making your sounds for me. Don’t deprive me of that.” Thomas switches to stroking his cock. His hand makes wet, intimate noises and you can smell the pre-cum. He’s even more vocal, moaning and whimpering for your benefit. 

“Good girl. You’re such a good girl, aren’t you, Tommy?” His chin trembles, but Thomas stays silent. “Answer me. Aren’t you such a good girl?” 

“Mmm mhm,” his mouth falls open in pleasure. It was so rewarding to wrap Thomas in all these affirmations. You’d never praised someone more responsive. His cock is engorged to the point that you can see each vein contrasting with his flushed skin. He must be aching.

“Yes you are.” You manage to get his shirt off now that he’s stationary, which leaves his nipples available. You lean in slowly, so close that your warm exhales raise goosebumps on his skin. Thomas’ eyes open and he arches to get your mouth on him. In response you place a hand on the center of his chest, forcing him not to rush.

“Can I play with my pretty girl’s pretty nipples?”

“Yes!” he blurts, then looks surprised at the volume of his own voice. Testing his relationship to pain, you bite lightly instead of suck.

“Ah huh ah, fuck. Fucking fuck,” he cries out. Tommy’s expression isn’t one of discomfort or pleasure, it's something else. Overwhelm. He’s not ready to explore this, not by a mile. You shush him soothingly, switching to the other side of his blushing chest with just a kiss.

“C - can you help?” He’s using what you’re coming to recognize as Thomas’ little voice, his submissive voice.

“I’d love to take care of my kitten,” you purr. Tommy grabs your hand and thrusts it between his legs. He raises it up under his ball sack so you’re cradling the weight in your palm. 

“Uh huh, mm,” he moans, while yanking his cock roughly. The sound is so pornographic that you can negligibly feel yourself get wetter from that one noise alone.

“Be gentle with yourself.” This time it's a demand without your usual warmth. Thomas starts paying attention to his whole length, not just abusing the tip. 

“Good listening. Is this what my kitty needed?” You cup his sack snuggly in your palm. The teasing has the intended effect. Thomas grunts and strangles the comforter in his left hand.

“No, kitten, hold on to me.” You pull his hand by the wrist and bring it to your hip. “I’m going to take care of you.” Again, your tone is stern, not affectionate, but he’s so responsive. Thomas’ fingernails dig in through the silk fabric of your pajama bottoms. He leans closer and you can hear the guttural, feminine noises which are barely audible as they leave his parted lips. The fragile skin between his legs is so very soft, delicate even. It’s essentially no effort on your end, but the sensation is viscerally meaningful for Thomas. 

Yet, even with your faces almost touching, he doesn’t go in for a kiss. Because kissing isn’t his heart’s desire. It’s hell not to pin just Tommy to the bed and fuck him for his own wellbeing. Submission is what he really needed. To supplement this urge, you lick and suckle his nipples with lots of spit, then take one under your free hand. Gently brushing your fingertips turns into twisting and pulling. Checking his face for discomfort, you find euphoria, but also tears. Thomas’ hips are twitching without rhythm and you can see him clawing at the edge of orgasam.

“Do you like the way my hand feels on your pussy? Such a good girl for asking me.” He cries out like he’s injured. Tommy is so conflicted, overwhelmed with all he’s trying to suppress and overwhelmed with how much he wants to get it all go and just be. 

“Learning so quickly, kitten. You’re so smart and obedient already,” you coo. At the word obedient, Tommy lets out a sob and his face falls forward onto your shoulder. For his own safety, you get a solid hold on Tommy’s hair to protect his head. Without prompting, he slumps against you in total relinquishment of control. Only Thomas’ forearm moves, and at a frenzied pace. Without the headboard at your back this would just be a pile of limbs. Instead, you can use your grip as a vantage point to speak directly into his ear. 

“You’re gonna cum with my hand on your pussy, pretty girl. Now.” Tommy chokes on a moan, but still manages to nod. “Such good listening. I’m so lucky that I got the perfect kitten.” He cums with a shout that startles Thomas himself.  It's hysterical, primal, the release of a tension whose existence he was ignorant to until the moment of. You may not have been prepared for the volume, but the overall reaction is no surprise. 

Catching most of his ejaculate in Thomas’ dirty makes the moment easier. You pull your boyfriend sideways, parting your legs so he can sit between, propping his head on your shoulder. The ends of his hair are sweaty under your hand.

“Why do I ah - always cr - cry,” he sobs. 

“You don’t always cry baby.” Thomas never teared up when he was on top, but bottomng was rarely a casual experience for him. “Just when there's something you need the sex to help you release.” 

“I don’t understand.” Except he did understand. He just wasn’t ready to face it which is a different thing entirely.

“Well what did it feel like to you?”

“Good. Calm, but intense. Easy but also…I don’t know.” 

“Mhm,” you rock back and forth. “Were there any parts you didn’t like?” After a moment of thought, he shakes his head. 

“I think when you compartmentalized your fetish, you also put away other parts of your sexuality, important parts.”

“Yeah that makes sense,” he sniffles. You reach over to the nightstand and put the tissue box between your knees. Then you just rock side to side while collecting your thoughts. During lovemaking, the risk of revealing something you hadn’t already approved caused Tommy to shut down out of fear. Perhaps that fetish wasn’t the only forbidden desire he harbored.  

“For me, sex has always been easy between us. I want what you want and vice versa. There's no conflict because we’re very compatible.”

“Yeah, same.” Thomas wipes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Now you have to get from the shallow end to the deep end without him drowning. 

“I think that compatibility comes from our…our energies being far apart on the sexuality spectrum. Opposites attract.”

“Uh huh.” He sounds unsure. Totally sensical, given the ramblings he was being asked to decipher.

“Basically you like taking suggestions and I like being listened to, right?”

“Okay, yes, I agree.” He nods and you examine his body language. Thomas’ hands are relaxed in his lap which is a promising sign.

“It's been a struggle to get you to advocate for yourself in bed.” Fingers crossed. “ Is that because you like doing what I say, independently of enjoying the actual activity?” 

“Yes,” he whispers. 

“What if it's something you really, really like? Wouldn’t doing the sex act be better than obeying?” His reaction to the word “obey” is very telling. His cock jumps even as it's becoming flaccid.

“I…then I have to direct the whole thing and sometimes that makes me anxious and I can’t enjoy it. Not always!” he desperately clarifies. “Just…sometimes.” 

“So it’d be fair to say that being in charge is often a turn off for you?”

“Yeah.” His chest was still rising and falling at a semi-normal rate, so you settle on at least attempting to push him.

“Then what would you say is a turn on?”

“It being you.” He’d actually managed to say even less than you thought was possible. 

“Me being the one in control and you being submissive?” It’s the first time you’ve used the s-word. Thomas holds his breath so you stroke his head again, twisting his damp, loose curls around your fingers.

“Yes,” he whispers. “But I know that, as a man, I should want to be dominant.” There it was.

“So as a woman, I should want to be submissive?” That one visibly stumps him. Thomas bites his lip in through and stares at the far wall with a concentrated expression.

“Well, no. You shouldn’t have to…I mean, I don’t care. I do care! I like things how they are.” He slides off your lap so your faces are level, but keeps his legs across your thighs.

“And what if I told you that your submissiveness is the sexist thing about you?” A wide-eyed Thomas goes through a dozen shades of red until even his ears are the color of an overripe tomato. “Have you ever considered that?” He shakes his head slowly, focus falling to his hands. “Hey.” You raise his chin by your pointer finger, then tuck a sweaty lock of hair behind his ear. Carefully, he drags his gaze up to meet yours.

“I already love the parts of you I haven’t met yet. So when you’re ready, I’m ready.”

Notes: I have my blog back after two months of my taglist and almost every social function not working! There might be a couple of fics you've missed out on because you weren't notified and my posts also weren't showing up in tags (crossing my mf finger it works now) I'm SO happy to FINALLY have you back.

-XOXO Eden

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[storiesbyrhi]

Angel of the First Degree - Chapter 13: Pretending

Eddie Munson x Chubby!Reader 5158 words Series Masterlist

Warnings: Anxiety; fatphobia including internalised; drug use; bullying; body issues; discussion of body function and fluids; period shame/stigma; disclosure of sexual assault (chapter 2); disordered eating and thoughts of food; shitty/abusive/critical parents; porn magazines; smut; reference to suicide (specifically Virginia Woolf’s); no beta; grief/mourning; verbal fighting; warnings updated each chapter

Synopsis: When Eddie Munson finds you in the midst of a panic attack, it is the beginning of something. A fic featuring body and sex positivity, Eddie in a dress, soft small moments, scary big truths, and all the usual special feelings you’d expect from one of my stories.

Chapter Summary: Tis the season to be sorry. Fa-la-la-la-la. La-la-la-la. Deck the halls in boughs of worry...

Author’s Note: I honestly didn’t purposefully leave you on a cliffhanger for this long. Life and motivation got in the way, you know? But, we’re here now, and we’re heading into the final chapters. They’ll probably be posted slowly too, BUT I am working on something new. It’s a Witch!Reader x Eddie one. V. excited for it.

The large metal drum hadn’t held oil in over a decade. Instead, it was alight more often than not, acting as a constant destroyer of trailer park trash. You tended to avoid it because of the smell. It got bad when people put rubber or roadkill in the flames. All your senses were drowned out by fear and pain though. You couldn’t even smell the smoke that plumed from the drum as your college acceptance letters burned.

Neighbours had been keeping an eye on the commotion that began with the loud voice of Eddie Munson, apparently yelling at his girlfriend. Some thought, that would be right. Others, the ones that knew him better, were confused. Then, it had been Eddie tearing from his trailer and skidding out of the park.

Your sobbing was louder than Eddie’s yelling had been. It went on for what seemed like forever. The silence was short lived, for not long after you appeared and stalked through the park. Past the cheap Christmas lights some residents had strung along trailers and mobile homes. Past the playground and the picnic benches.

At the trash fire, they watched you stand motionless after throwing in a small handful of paper. When you didn’t leave immediately, just stood still and sad in the early evening cold, they stopped watching.

…

When Eddie came home, it was close to midnight. You were back in bed, knocked out by three valium and a badly rolled joint. Wayne had tried to get you to eat, tried to tell you that it would be okay, but you just mumbled something about not being hungry and being sorry, then disappeared back into the bedroom. A sense of small wretchedness and scent of fire was left in your wake.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Wayne demanded, standing as soon as Eddie was through the door.

“I know-”

“No. No, you fucking don’t Eddie. I’ve cleaned up some fucking messes before, but this… What were you thinking?! Were you even thinking?”

“I shouldn’t have said-”

“No. You shouldn’t have. But, fuck… Just leaving her like that? She was in there crying her eyes out for hours. Ran out with her letters. Think she went and burnt them in the pit. Came back smellin’ of smoke… Eddie…”

The disappointment in Wayne’s voice was worse than the look of judgement on his face. Eddie felt like shit, which wasn’t an entirely new state for him, but this was easily the worst it had ever been.

As soon as he left the trailer and hit the road, all the anger had dissipated from Eddie. Shame and regret washed over him. He drove around for hours trying to sort his head out, come up with a good way of explaining himself. There was so much to unpack in his reaction to the acceptance letters, and he lacked the tools to know where to begin.

“I’m sorry,” he told his uncle weakly.

“Not me you should be apologising to,”

“I know… But I am. You shouldn’t have to deal with this shit. I’m not a fuckin’ kid anymore,” Eddie said.

Of course, a twenty-year-old will think they’re not a child, but it was more than clear by Eddie’s outburst that he was still a kid, terrified of being unloved and traumatised by abandonment. Wayne took a breath.

“You two never talked about next year?”

Eddie shook his head. “I don’t fuckin’ know… Think we both just avoided it?”

“Fat lot of good that did… Girl that smart, working that hard… Did you think she was just gonna get a job at the diner and stay here?”

Yes.

Maybe.

No.

Eddie didn’t know.

“Never again, Ed. You don’t talk to her, or any girl like that. Ever again. You hear me?”

“There’s not…” Not going to be any other girl. It was just you, if he could fix what he’d done.

Eddie nodded and wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve. His eyes were bloodshot and lips drying, cracks threatening to appear by morning if he didn’t steal some of your lip balm. Wayne thought he looked like a drowned cat, a pitiful creature in need of empathy.

“Come ‘ere,” he said, stepping to his nephew and opening his arms for a hug.

Eddie quickly accepted the invitation, sniffling into Wayne’s collar and trying not to cry again.

“I fucked up,”

“Yeah… But the damage is done. Ain’t nothing you can do ‘bout that now. The future, Eddie. Gotta think about the future,”

“Yeah… Yep. Uh, is she up?”

“No. I checked in on her ‘bout an hour ago. Dead to the world. Think she might have got into your stash, but she’s alright.”

Leaving Wayne in the lounge room, Eddie made his way down the hall and slipped into the bedroom’s darkness.

It was never truly pitch black in the room; the trailer park lights were ever illuminated, and despite the curtains and canvases, Eddie couldn’t keep the light out. In that moment though, he was grateful. He crept over piles of clothes and other things without tripping and slid onto the bed next to you.

You were deep in the throes of a REM sleep nightmare. Eddie could see your eyes move behind your eyelids and your bottom lip quiver. He wanted to wake you, save you from it, but he knew that it was a chemical sleep that would be hard to pierce, and that you’d probably not consider it saving at all.

Eddie laid and watched you for a while. Tears rolled down his cheeks, making the pillow beneath him wet. What would he do if you didn’t forgive him? What would he do if you left in the morning, disappeared to Chicago, and never spoke to him again? The thoughts swirled, making him nauseous and deeply ashamed.

By the time the sun rose over Hawkins and the blackbirds were singing, Eddie had accumulated about an hour of sleep. Minutes caught over the hours. Restless minutes. Cold sweat. Itchy eyes. By 5:00 am, he gave up.

Out in the trailer, he checked in on Wayne. His uncle was sound asleep on the fold-out bed, his usual snores providing the only comfort Eddie had felt in a while. After chugging some orange juice from the jug in the fridge and a visit to the bathroom where he avoided eye contact with himself, he returned to you.

Eddie wanted to snuggle into you. He wanted to wrap himself around your waist and bury his face in your soft tummy. He wanted his girlfriend, the person he loved more than he thought he was capable of. But, he knew he had to wait.

He couldn’t pretend yesterday hadn’t happened.

When your eyes fluttered open, it had just gone 7:00 am. Eddie had picked up a magazine and had been flipping through it for over an hour. The letters kept jumbling and words seemed foreign. The best he could do is stare at the photos. The movement beside him made him freeze.

For a couple of seconds, you had that new day amnesia. Everything was normal for one… two… three… four… oh.

Stretching out, you shook off sleep and sat up. You squinted in the morning light then looked over at Eddie. His big brown eyes were already watching you, waiting for impact. The tension was thick, but rather than it feeling volatile and angry, the room felt miserable.

Slowly, you repositioned yourself to be sitting cross-legged facing Eddie. He was leaning against the wall, a pillow softening the pressure. Although you weren’t sure the best way to say it, you did know what you wanted. Eddie had always understood your vagueness before, so you just hoped he would again.

“Um,” you started but stopped to clear your throat. It felt dry, worn from hours of sobbing.

“Baby-”

“No, just- Um, let me go first,” you interrupted.

Eddie nodded, although shutting up felt bad.

“For my whole life, I’ve just been waiting to get out of Hawkins… Because of, you know, Mum and Dad. And it was like that at the start of the year. College was the best way to get out. I’m smart. I could do it. They’d see it as a good thing. So, that was the plan… But then… this happened and I didn’t need to get out of Hawkins anymore. But I’d already applied for colleges. It doesn’t mean anything. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave you. We can just… just pretend nothing happened.”

Eddie couldn’t pretend yesterday hadn’t happened. You, on the other hand, most certainly could.

Eddie’s heart broke, for real that time. “Angel… Babe, you don’t have to explain anythin’. Don’t have to say a fucking thing. This is my fault, not yours. You haven’t done anything,”

“No, you don’t get it. I don’t… I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do a weird saying sorry conversation or whatever. I don’t want to go. I don’t want anything to change. So, we’re just gonna pretend, okay?”

Your expression was pure desperation. Eddie felt sick, but he nodded anyway. You let out a deep breath.

“Can I at least say that I’m sorry? I was an asshole. I didn’t mean-” Eddie tried.

“No. ‘Cause nothing happened. I’m fine.”

It wasn’t how Munsons handled their shit. The bad ones, they fought it out. The good ones talked it out. Regardless of the road taken, the destination was the same. At the end of the day, it was all out in the open.

In your house, discretion and secrets were the way of life. All you had known was concealed emotion and folding to avoid conflict. It was so ingrained, that you didn’t really realise it was what you were doing. You knew you loved Eddie and that he was your top priority. In your mind, pretending the day before didn’t happen made sense.

“Okay… Uh, nothing… happened. But you should still think about college,”

“It was only ever a way out,” you said, clearly annoyed that you needed to repeat yourself.

Eddie wanted to cry, but he clenched his jaw and nodded. He was so sure you were going to leave him for Chicago, then leave him for being cruel, so he’d swallow the lie if it kept you close.

“…’Kay… I love you. I’d do anything for you. I’d go anywhere with you. You know that, right?”

“Mmhmm,” you answered, moving onto your knees and wriggling closer to him. “I love you too.”

Finally, after hours and hours and hours, he had you in his arms. Eddie pulled you into his lap and held you tight. When you leaned in against his chest, he rested his head on yours. He could smell smoke in your hair, bitter and telling.

…

The following day, it genuinely felt as if the prior few days happened weeks, months, if not years ago. You’d locked it away entirely, and Eddie was processing his shame in secret minutes here and there. It helped that Wayne had moved on, talking and acting like he hadn’t tried to scoop you back together and hadn’t seen his nephew at his worst.

Wayne’s truck pulled up around 7:00 am. You listened to him put water on for tea and unfold his bed with a metallic creak. Eddie was still asleep, curled around your back with one arm under the pillow your head rested on, and the other lost somewhere between your body and his. He didn’t wake when the shower turned on, the pipes shaking in the walls.

This was Wayne’s routine after a night shift. Shower. Tea. Sleep. Sometimes, like that day, he would softly knock on the bedroom door to check on his kids. The door opened and Wayne’s tired face appeared.

“Anyone awake?”

“Yeah,” you whispered.

“Hey, kid,” Wayne greeted. “You guys got plans today?”

“Uh, Eddie was going to go see Liz about doing some work for them,”

“Who’s Liz?”

“She owns the music store. Not the new one in the mall, the other one,” you told him.

If you were at Starcourt 2.0 Eddie would happily spend time in their music store. The guys knew him. It was as good a place as any to buy manuscript paper or guitar strings. However, Eddie much preferred the shop tucked in one of Hawkins’ shitty strip malls. He claimed it was something about it being a family business and that they knew their stuff.

Wayne snorted. “He’s on nickname basis now is he?”

“Don’t,” Eddie’s croaky voice warned, rising from the sleep-dead.

Wayne chuckled. “Gonna go see your girlfriend today, huh?”

Eddie sat up. “Fuck off.”

You had met Liz. She was older than Wayne, late fifties early sixties. Confused, you asked, “What?”

“I’ve been takin’ him to that store since he was, what, ten? Eleven? Liz was the love of his life for a couple years there,”

“No! She was just nice… Took me seriously!” The high pitch tone in Eddie’s voice was incredibly revealing.

You giggled. “So, this is why you like that store better,”

“It was ‘Eliza says I’m gonna be a rockstar,’ ‘Eliza says my song is good’ all day, every day,”

“Yeah, alright. If we’re fucking done here, I gotta piss,” Eddie mumbled, rolling away from you and getting out of bed. He softly pushed Wayne from the room on his way out.

“What’s she got you doing anyhow?” Wayne asked, the volume of his voice rising to make it through the bathroom door.

“Guy that normally services the guitars is M.I.A. Just gonna look at a couple until she finds someone new,” Eddie called back, shrugging off the thought that a lot of people went M.I.A. in Hawkins.

“Services, huh?” Wayne mocked, looking back into the bedroom to make sure you were in on the joke.

“Ha fucking ha. Grow up, old man.” After the sound of the toilet and sink, Eddie reappeared in the bathroom doorway. “What do you want anyway? Why you hassling me so early?”

“Hassling you? You’re getting’ softer every day… Was just gonna ask if you two had thought about Christmas?”

That gave Eddie pause. No, he hadn’t thought about Christmas. “Babe?” he called.

“Yeah?”

“Christmas?” he repeated, moving to the threshold between the hallway and bedroom.

“Yeah?”

“First Munson Christmas, we going all out? Or, ah, Grinching it?”

Christmas had always been a big deal in your family. Not in a joyful way where everyone got together to exchange thoughtful gifts and eat gingerbread and be filled with merry love. More in the sense that if everything wasn’t perfect for the extended family, you’d be responsible all the way through to New Years. There were expectations about gifts, rules about food, and general misery.

“What do you normally do?” you asked them.

Eddie smiled softly and looked over at Wayne. “We’ve got a few traditions,”

“Okay. Um. Yeah, okay. Let’s do it.”

With a grin on his face, Eddie nodded and climbed back into bed.

“Today then-” Wayne started.

“AH-HAH!” Eddie yelled, almost deafening you in the process. “I knew you wanted something!”

Wayne ignored him, leaned against the door frame, and addressed you like you were the only adult in the room. “If you’ve got some time up your sleeve, might as well head on out to the tree farm. While you’re there, grab an extra for John and drop it off to his. He reckons they don’t fit in his car,”

“Are the kids coming for Christmas?” you asked Wayne, weirdly invested in co-worker John’s life.

“Says he’s ‘negotiating’ with Cath about it,” he replied, making air quotations. “Anyway. The van’s got space,”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll do it,” Eddie agreed.

“Thanks, bud. Gonna go catch some sleep. I’ll see yous later, alright.”

You smiled and nodded, and Eddie said, “Yep, goodnight.”

Eddie pulled you closer as Wayne closed the door, curling himself back around you, re-heating his cold toes and fingers. He kissed your shoulder blade once then twice.

“I’ve never been to the Christmas tree farm,” you told him.

“Really? Thought your parents would fight for the biggest one,”

“No. Mum said having a tree inside was dirty. Like, the sap was sticky and the needles got everywhere. We’ve only ever had the plastic ones. Then she’d just burn scented candles. The ones that smell like the forest or whatever,”

“There’s a metaphor in there somewhere.”

…

The air was so cold your breath was visible. Bundled up in the Fangoria hoodie, scarf, and gloves, you still couldn’t stop your teeth from chattering. Undeterred, you jumped from the van and fell in line next to Eddie as you entered the Christmas tree farm.

There were a few families there, and some lone fathers allocated this job and this job alone. Eddie nodded a silent greeting to the man wearing a fluorescent orange vest. He was standing next to a huge table that looked like one solid piece of wood. Saws and power tools were scattered around.

“It smells so clean,” you noted, looking around in awe. You’d never seen so many Christmas trees in one place. They were planted in neat rows, each reaching a different height but all in the same ballpark of household appropriate.

“Wayne didn’t say what size John wanted, did he?”

“Nope… But I think if we get him a small one and the kids do end up coming, he’ll freak out?” you replied.

Eddie snorted. “Fuck. Men and their Christmas tree size insecurities, am I right?” he said, shooting you a silly grin.

The smile on your face filled Eddie with the type of warmth that felt like love. Or maybe it was love that was so deep and visceral, that it took on physical warmth as it flooded his body.

“We only need a small one,” you stated.

“Uh-huh. I’m totally secure in my masculinity. We can get a baby’s first real tree.”

Eddie asked the guy in the vest to cut an average sized tree. You watched as the guy and his sons, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere like bored Indianan teenaged Christmas elves, load it into the van.

The guy seemed disinterested when Eddie said you’d take a little longer to pick the second tree because it was the special one.

“What about this one?” Eddie suggested.

You’d walked the rows once to get an overall sense of what was on offer. The recon lap, Eddie called it. Then, the second time around, you stopped at any trees that had the right vibe, as you called it.

“I don’t like the bark on it,”

“The bark?”

“Yeah,” you said. “It’s like… slightly too… crumbly. Like it makes me want to pick it off. But it also makes me feel gross. I don’t like looking at it.”

Eddie laughed. “Yeah, alright. Fuck this tree and its gross bark… Onwards!”

Another fifteen minutes in the cold and you found the right tree. It was shorter than most of the others in its row – small even by small standards. You and Eddie stood side by side and stared at it.

“It’s small,” he said.

“Yes,” you agreed.

“It has a bald patch,”

“Look,” you pointed at the base. “It’s so sticky looking.”

Eddie crouched and poked at the sap. “Confirmed. Will fuck up the carpet,”

“We can put something down,”

“We’re good with that,” he quipped, looking up at you and winking terribly.

You pulled a face that made him laugh.

“Nobody’s gonna want this one,”

“Guess he’s ours then?” Eddie asked, standing up with a sigh and putting his hands on his hips.

“Uh-huh,”

“Alright. I’ll go get the guy and the children of the corn.”

The van smelt like pine and you felt a bubbliness you weren’t familiar with. “I think I might be excited for Christmas,” you told Eddie as you looked for a good radio station.

“I draw the line at carols and holiday music, if that’s what you’re doing.”

You waited in the van as Eddie knocked on John’s door. Through the fogged glass, you watched them converse. When that got boring, you drew hearts and other shapes into the condensation.

“So, it would just be Cath and the kids, you know? Eve’s keeping the bar open, so she won’t be there. Their parents will still be on their cruise. So, the way I see it is that it makes sense for them to come here, you know?” John was mid-speech when Eddie opened the van’s back doors and began to unload the tree.

“Who’s Eve?” Eddie asked, mostly because he couldn’t think of anything else to say and he generally didn’t agree with people for the sake of it.

“Cath’s sister. Nothing like Cath. Chalk and cheese, you know? She’s, ah, always done her own thing. She’s got a bar in Chicago. Real unsavoury place, you know? Wouldn’t want the kids hanging around there,”

“Right,” Eddie replied, huffing a little when John didn’t take the lead on carrying the tree inside.

“Anyway. Reckon I’m in with a good chance of getting them. The kids, I mean. I’ll do the right thing, invite Cath. Maybe they’ll see what I’ve made of the place, you know, with the treehouse Wayne helped with,”

“Sure,”

“Anyway. Let’s get this inside. I’ll show you where I want it. Oh! Who’s this?! Hello!”

John caught you peaking around the seat to see him in all his divorcee glory. You waved.

“Wayne said you found yourself a nice girlfriend. Good for you, son.”

Eddie threw you a look and you just shrugged at him. It took another ten minutes for Eddie to get the tree inside and then escape the clutches of John’s external-internal monologue.

“Jesus Christ! I don’t fucking know how Wayne does that?!” Eddie exclaimed when he got back behind the wheel. “What the absolute fuck?”

You laughed. “Yeah… Like, Wayne probably just sits there and tunes out?”

“Yeah. Jesus… Fuck, alright… Home. Let’s get this sticky baby home.”

…

“So… Are we gonna talk about it?”

“About what?” you replied, playing dumb. Gaze set firmly on the deep purple colour your freshly manicured nails were being painted.

“Eddie told Jeff…” Esther paused, waited to see if that would prompt you. Nothing. “About the acceptance letters. And how you’re saying you don’t wanna go,”

“I don’t,”

“Right. Sure. The thing is though that nobody believes that,”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not going.”

The nail tech told you to put your nails under the UV lamp to cure. Glancing over at Esther, you smiled at her Barbie pink nails, then watched her sigh. She was pretty used to your stubbornness. Maybe not to the same extent as Eddie, but like him, she understood you were doing what you were raised to do.

“You know that you’re going to regret this, right? And one day you might blame Eddie,”

“Why would you say something like that?” you asked, wounded.

“Because that’s what happens. I mean, shit, how many of us have parents that are still together and are actually in love? All the mums hate the dads for getting to have a career while they were stuck at home. All the dads hate the mums for not being twenty-one anymore… Seriously, if there’s even a tiny part of you that wants to go to college, and you don’t do it, you’ll grow up and be old and wonder why you chose a boy over yourself.”

Your mind went on the defense immediately. What did Esther know about unhappy marriages? What did she know about you or Eddie or any of it? Even through that though, you knew she was right, but you stuck to the safety zone of denial.

“I get it, Esther, but that’s not me. That’s not what’s gonna happen. And Barnes & Noble are opening at the mall, so I’ll apply there. I love books so it’s perfect. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

With your nails finished, you and Esther headed out the salon door and walked the sidewalk half a block to get to the hairdressers.

The conversation grew lighter, focusing on your upcoming nineteenth birthday. You’d always hated birthdays, the parties your mother threw fake and self-serving. The gifts from so-called friends unfitting and void of real love. Maybe 1986 would be different.

“So, what are we doing?” the hairdresser asked after she’d washed your hair, massaging her fingertips into your scalp with expert pressure.

Esther was perched on the empty chair next to you. She looked from her reflection, from her dark coils and volume to you, eager to hear your decision too.

“A change,” you announced. “Something different.”

A good daughter had her hair the way her mother wanted it to be. A good daughter never asked her father for permission to get anything different. A good cheerleader looked like the girls in the magazine. A good girl didn’t get something different.

The hairdresser made a happy squeaking sound. Hawkins wasn’t known for its radical hairstyles and she was grateful to do anything other than perms and tints. “Let’s do it!”

…

He’d been at it for almost an hour. Nervous that you’d come home early, Eddie was standing in the trailer pacing the small circle the phone’s cable would allow. After someone accidentally hung up on him, he’d had to start the process all over again.

Finally,

“Yes. Still here… … No, no, I’m not- Uh… … Sorry, but… … No, she already got accepted… … Yes! … Yeah, yeah, she got the letter and everything. It just got… um, misplaced. My fault. Spring cleaning, you know… …  Actually, can you send it to a different address? We’re, um, in the middle of moving…”

It was the first step in a plan he wasn’t sure he could pull off, but he’d die trying.

…

After nails and hair, you and Esther tried the new Japanese restaurant. “Sushi places are everywhere in Chicago,” she’d told you, showing you how to use chopsticks.

The rest of the day was spent in Esther’s bedroom, where you watched her go through her entire wardrobe. “The deal is if I donate five things, they’ll get me something new.”

Esther and her family remained a fascinating case study for you. They were forming part of the blueprint in your mind for what a cohesive and supportive unit should be – underpinned by ethics and culture, willing to compromise, and above all else, full of unconditional love.

Esther dropped you home around 4:30 pm, leaving you to pull yourself onto the little porch and use the second entrance to go inside. Wayne was asleep in the lounge room, getting some rest before his night shift.

A small knock on the bedroom door to announce yourself, and you found Eddie sitting on the floor, notebooks and paper surrounding him. He looked up at you and smiled wide, taking off his headphones that were plugged into the amp.

“Woahhhhh,” he said in awe.

“Good woah?”

“The best. You look fuckin’ awesome,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, angel… It’s very you,” Eddie added, scrunching his nose and smiling. He held up his arms and twinkled his fingers at you. Happy, you dropped to your knees and crawled into his lap. He ruffled your hair with his hands. “You smell fancy,” he commented.

“Salon shampoo,”

“Smells like… flowers.”

Eddie smooshed his face into your hair, then pressed a messy kiss to your cheek. For a while, you stayed on the floor, watching Eddie’s hand drawn music notes dance across the page. When sounds of Wayne became audible, you both ventured out into the lounge.

“This sad little thing’s been sitting here too long. ‘Bout time we decorate it?” Wayne asked.

The Christmas tree had been sitting in the corner of the living room for a couple of days, waiting until all three of you were home at the same time. As it happened, it was the first of December and Wayne had a few hours before he needed to head off.

Eddie sat at the base of the tree, handing you ornaments from the one box of Munson decorations. A majority of them were handmade and from Eddie’s childhood; you listened to Wayne talk about them while he untangled string lights. 

The crowning jewel of the tree was an angel. Its dress was a cone made of cardboard. Messy glitter glue had been painted across it. Her head was a foam ball with a terrifying smile drawn on it by five-year-old Eddie.

“I love her,” you said, holding the precious thing in your hands.

“My second favourite angel,” Eddie joked.

You laughed and placed her on top of the tree. “What’s next?”

Lights and tinsel, then the tradition of taking some of the mug collection down to replace with the Christmas themed mugs.

“I get him one every year,” Eddie explained.

You counted ten, then imagined ten-year-old Eddie picking one out for his uncle.

“That first one was from the second hand place over in Lafayette. Said he wanted to get me something, so I gave him five bucks and sent him in. Came out with that all wrapped up in old newspaper,” Wayne recounted fondly.

As you sat on the couch and watched Eddie and Wayne try to put the mugs in chronological order, arguing about Christmases gone by, your mind drifted. No doubt, there were arguments happening at your old home too, but they weren’t about memories and love.

You were grateful to be where you were. Grateful and safe. Safe and happy. Happy and loved. It was all too much to risk. Even if the risk was one of a better life beyond Hawkins. All those thoughts were getting buried deeper each day. And yet, it was still only a shallow grave.

…

“Have you tried just telling them the truth?”

Eddie rolled his eyes at Wayne, who was quick to take the cap off his head and throw it at Eddie.

“Hey!” Eddie picked the cap up off the floor and put it on. He looked ridiculous. “My lies are good. The truth sounds like I’m just some insane stalker trying to control her whole life.”

Wayne raised his eyebrows.

“Fuck off,” Eddie deadpanned and threw the cap back at his uncle. “I have a plan… It’s just… a lot of moving parts, alright?”

“Yeah, well, here’s my part.” Wayne fished a piece of paper out of his pocket. “John says the best time to call is afternoon. After lunch, before knock off,”

“Okay,” Eddie said, taking it and looking down at the phone number. “Eve,” he read.

“Yep. John said I owe him for making him ask Cath a favour,”

“John said you owe him? Starting to see why Cath left him,” Eddie replied, a smirk on his face.

Wayne just shook his head and headed off down the hall for a shower.

Eddie scoffed again. Goddamn John finally coming in handy for once.

Next Chapter: 14 - Nineteen

End Note: What is our dear Eddie up to? So many phone calls? A plan? Moving parts? I’m letting you in on small snippets of what Eddie’s doing while you’re out and about. Consider them breadcrumbs, and ones much more reliable than a Netflix profile pic’s background colour or the name of a show’s episode…

Fic Taglist: @ajeff855 @b-barnes04 @eddie-munson-is-a-sweetheart have you changed your URL? @nerd-squad-headquarters @word-wytch @harrys-tittie @munsonsmel0dy @sidthedollface2 @eddiethesexy @bardicfrustration @orpheusredux @munsonsgirl71 @a-time-for-wolvess @eddieswifu @rosaline-black @thegirlwhohides @emotionaldreamer @e0509 @briasnow-blog @kiyastrf94 @erinsingalong @rainylana @thescarletangelsstuff @mrsdollardog @tayhar811 @chickennug90 @b-irock

Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @munsonlives @sweetpeapod @depressooo-expressooo-blog @thorfemmes @hawkins-high @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @mymoonisalways-in-scorpio @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @lacrymosa-24

[hyuckswonderland]

"hello! could I ask if you could make a sequel to the zb1 fic, where the others eventually find out? thank you so much, it's completely fine if you don't wanna 🫶🏻"

Thank you for requesting <3 Zb1 hold a special place in my heart and I've already spent way too much money on them...... here's to our lovely shining boys :D

3. “You seem scared.”

83. "Secret? What secret?" 

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The first to discover Yujin's secret was Gunwook. I mean it didn't really take much. He had stayed home similarly to Gyuvin and Yujin. It just so happened the walls in the dorm weren't very soundproof and he could overhear the younger member's laughter.

Gunwook knew he would have to put a pin in that and use that knowledge later on. He always tried to be careful and smart about all his actions and this was no exception.

The day he decided to pull out the card was on a day him and Yujin got off from school (they went to the same school now), while the hyungs were out busy with some sort of schedules that they had to do at a later date.

"You know Jinnie, I know your secret." Gunwook blurted out while they sat on the couch watching some show together.

Yujin wide eyed looked over at Gunwook "Secret? What secret?" He was confused but also worried. Could Gunwook be referring to... that?

"That you're extremely ticklish." YEP it was in fact that.

"W-what gave you that idea?" Yujin attempted to play it off cool, he knew he wasn't doing a good job at that.

"I overheard Gyuvin hyung tickling you not that long ago, after we played twenty questions." Gunwook said nonchalantly. Despite his act though Gunwook was ready to pounce on Yujin any second now. He wanted to be a good hyung to Yujin.

Growing up Gunwook was the younger one in his family, he had been on a handful of occasions tickled by his older brother. Gunwook saw it fitting to take a page out of his own brother's book and do the same to the younger boy.

"Dunno what you're talking about." Yujin cleared his throat, "I'm not ticklish." He leaned back into the couch stiff as a board, on edge in case Gunwook tried anything.

"Really? Maybe I was wrong." Gunwook pretended to brush it off before pouncing on top of Yujin. "Just kidding!" He had a big grin on his face as he easily pinned Yujin down.

"Hyuuuung come oooon..." The younger whined trying to wrestle against the older boy.

Gunwook giggled softly at the younger's attempts to escape. "What Jinnie," he smirked as he scribbled his fingers on his stomach, “You seem scared~" 

"NOHoHOo!" Yujin squirmed trying to kick Gunwook off him but it was proving difficult.

"Cmon Yujinnie surely you're not thaaaat ticklish~" Gunwook teased. Honestly before Gunwook was rather nervous about being Yujin's hyung but now they he had actually had time to settle into the title, he was having a blast with it.

I mean now he had someone he could tease. With that, he slipped his finger into the younger's naval, wiggling the finger around. "NAHAHAH IHIHIHITS SOHOHO BAHAHAD!" Yujin squeaked out.

"Ohhh well that's what happens when you lie to your hyung and try to keep things from him!" Gunwook grinned as he leaned down, lifting up the boys shirt enough so it was exposed to him.

"Hey Jinnie do you know what my favorite fruit is?"

Yujin furrowed his eyebrows, quickly he realized what Gunwook was referring to. "NOHO HYUHUNG DOHOHO-" His protests were cut off as Gunwook leaned down and blew raspberries all over the poor boy's stomach.

"PLEHEHEHEASE NAHAHAH-" Yujin cackled his whole body shaking with laughter. Gunwook just continued though, loving hearing the younger's loud laughter. "IHIHIHI CAHAHAHANT-"

"Why not Jinnie? Do you not like raspberries? They are such a good and healthy fruit though!" Faking innocence Gunwook squeezed at Yujin's hips, causing the younger to buck his hips and kick his feet out. "NAHAHAT THEHEHERE!" He squealed

"Aww why not? Too ticklish?" Gunwook chuckled leaning down, inhaling a long breathe of air before blowing a long raspberry on Yujin's stomach once more.

"NAHAHA-" Yujin's laughter turned silent as he softly hiccuped. Gunwook took that as his queue to stop and let the younger go.

"Ticklish aren't ya? I don't know how you planned on trying to keep that a secret." He rubbed at Yujin's stomach to help ease the phantom tickles.

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Jiwoong was the second to discover. The two often hung out despite their age difference. Mostly because Jiwoong looked at Yujin the same as his younger brother, they were basically the same age anyways so it came naturally.

He felt like he had a duty to take care of Yujin make sure he had meals and was keeping up on his schoolwork regardless of their busy schedules.

In turn of that, it was exactly how Jiwoong discovered it. While helping Yujin with his homework. "Hyung I just don't understand the problem." He huffed staring at the math sheet. Algebra was just too hard.

Jiwoong leaned over to look at Yujin's work, his hair brushing against Yujin's neck causing the younger to flinch. The older noticed the reaction but kept quiet, looking at the sheet. "Don't worry Yujinnie your hyung's got you!"

He kept the position and wrote out the problem explaining step by step how Yujin would be able to get the answer. While it seemed like the younger kept flinching from his hair brushing against his neck. Jiwoong could tell what was going on and it only made him smile.

"How about we take a little mental break, you seem a little distracted anyways~" He couldn't help but tease the younger. Yujin blushing slightly as he nodded "Yeah sounds good."

He began to stretch in his chair, bringing his arms up to really get a nice stretch. Jiwoong saw this as his golden opportunity, moving his hands to quickly squeeze at Yujin's underarms.

"ACK-" Yujin yelped loudly slamming his arms back down to his sides. "HYUHUHUNG!?" He questioned confused. The last thing he had expected was for Jiwoong to actually tickle him...

Jiwoong smiled softly chuckling at Yujin's reaction "What? Did you think I didn't notice how ticklish you are? This is the perfect way to free your mind anyways!"

Blush spread over Yujin's cheeks, he thought he was hiding it well but now the amount of people who knew his secret was only increasing...

The older took this time to dig his fingers in more at the spot, causing Yujin to sit up and try to escape the torture. "Nah ah, no can do Jinnie." As Yujin was slipping away, Jiwoong grabbed the younger by his ribs and started tasering his fingers inbetween each rib.

"NOHO COHohOMe OHOn!" His legs wobbled, his body giving out on him. Jiwoong noticed and laughed pulling the younger closer to help stabilize him. "Better get used to this kinda stuff Yujinnie, the more people find out the more they will want to see the cute smile of our cute maknae~"

It was true, everyone loved seeing their youngest smile. If anything this would be even more of a reason to tickle him.

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Matthew and Taerae. They had learned from Jiwoong, randomly it got brought up in conversation and Matthew and Taerae hadn't forgotten about it.

The group was staying a hotel due to some schedule that required them too far away from their dorms and company. It just so happened that Matthew, Taerae, and Yujin were staying in a hotel room together.

After a day exploring the city's sights and indulging in delicious meals, the tired trio went to their hotel room. Yujin had immediately jumped into bed, getting comfortable while watching the tv.

It was at this time Matthew came up with the idea of them tickling Yujin. Out of sight from Yujin, Matthew whispered to Taerae the plan. They would come in from both sides and sandwich Yujin in between them.

Grinning mischievously, they walked towards the bed where Yujin was already all snuggled up in the middle. Matthew lying down on the younger's right and Taerae on the left.

"Watcha watching Yujinnie?" Taerae asked as he wrapped an arm lazily around the younger's back.

"Just some kdrama that's on." He replied not noticing anything odd about the two's behavior. Though, he really should have.

"Yeah?" Matthew wrapped his arm around Yujin as well, casually trapping the younger between them. Yujin didn't even notice until he felt poking at his sides.

"H-Huh?" He gasped a confused look on his face, Matthew and Taerae were poking his sides...

Matthew grinned "What's the matter?" acting as if he wasn't doing anything at all in the first place. Taerae took this chance while Yujin was focused on Matthew to scribbling his fingers up Yujin's side.

"AcK- HYuhuhung-" He giggled squirming away from Taerae's hand, with that Matthew took the opportunity to do the same as Taerae. So while Yujin tried to escape by leaning closer to Matthew he ultimately was just leaning into more tickles.

"WHAhAt- NOho-" Yujin's squirming had started and yet all it did was make one side worse and then when he tried to lessen that side the other ended up getting worse.

It was truly a lose lose situation. "THihiS IHIhisn't FahahaIR!" He yelped as Taerae moved one hand to spider up Yujin's back, causing the younger to arch his back.

Taerae chuckled "I think it's pretty fair, we get to hear you laugh which is the best gift we could ask for!"

Matthew nodded in agreement "Exactly Yujinnie! We need a little energy boost after the tiring day we just had!"

Yujin shook his head in disagreement "IHiHIt DoHOhohoesn't EhEHehenergize MEHEHE!"

"Oh wellll~" Matthew teased taking the time to flutter his finger's over Yujin's neck, the boy scrunching up his neck in turn.

This was borderline worse than Gyuvin and Gunwook were with him... "Hyuhuhung's coHOHome Ohon-" he jerked towards Taerae as Matthew started squeezing his side rapidly, eliciting a snort from him.

Taerae grinned and started doing the same. Even with the both of them doing the same things the way they did it was different. Their speeds weren't the same and it was driving Yujin mad.

"KNoHOhoCK IHIHIT OHOhohoff-"

୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧

Hanbin the leader wasn't actually the last to know he was just the last one to show off his knowledge. As the leader he was pretty observant over each and every one of his members. Yujin especially as the youngest.

He'd be lying to say he didn't notice how some of the other members were more prone to poking the youngest in the side or blowing air on his ears to get him to jolt. It was plain obvious that everyone knew now.

It was also plain obvious that today Yujin had been exhausted from practice. Hanbin knew just the way to approach him as well. Walking into Yujin's room, it empty besides the young boy sprawled out on his bed.

"You seem extra tired today baby.." Hanbin came closer to the bed and sat down. "Do you want hyung to give you a special massage? You seem a little tense."

The younger looked up from the bed and nodded his head. "Yes please hyung... thank you." The answer put a soft smile on Hanbin's face. So if the massage was a little bit tickly that was something he could keep to himself.

It wasn't like he would be like the other's... at least not right now the future perhaps, but right now he wanted to give him the softest most relaxing tickles possible.

So, Hanbin sat up on the bed. He started off with an actual massage making sure to be gentle but firm to roll out all the knots in the younger's body.

Slowly Hanbin's massage started with gentle fluttering fingers at Yujin's side. "Don't be alarmed Jinnie." He warned the youngest of his plans. He didn't want anything to be unpleasant for him anyways.

To Hanbin's surprise, Yujin actually accepted it pretty quickly. Soft giggles flowing, slightly muffled from his face buried in his arms. If Hanbin could see his face he'd realize just how red it was.

"You did such a good job today Jinnie. You deserve to relax and laugh a little bit... you're so young and have so much pressure on your shoulders." Hanbin hummed as he lightly scribbled at Yujin's back, causing the other to squirm a tiny bit.

Even though Yujin was embarrassed that he was happily accepting the tickles, he still felt a lot more relaxed. "Thahank yohou Hanbihin hyung." He mumbled in his arms.

Hanbin smiled "Anytime you need Yujinnie," he skittered his fingers up the younger's back and to his neck, "never hesitate to come seek me out when you're stressed."

Yujin smiled at that, happy to hear those words from the older. He was really glad he had all his members by his side, no matter what. Even the ones he didn't know well prior to boys planet, they managed to hold a special place in his heart quickly.

Nothing would be more exciting then spending the next two and a half years with them, hopefully more.

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I hope you liked it! I wanted to make it more kind of individual rather than have all five of them find out at the same time... that would've been a bit hard to write tbh...

[indigoraysoflight]

9 "You're not allowed to pick the movie ever again." For caryl

Hey anon! Thanks for waiting. Life got busy. So…IDK if a movie is something they have the luxury to watch in the TWD (based on the time frame I ended up writing this in), so I’ll try to incorporate the dialogue. But actual movie-watching won't be involved, I'm afraid. For future reference, I usually write more angsty (sometimes with a happy twist at the end) style fics that go hand in hand with canon, so let’s hope I can achieve that here. One movie reference is based on cast interviews. And the movie choice is obviously a callback haha. Hopefully, this was worth the wait. Thanks for the prompt!

Missing Scene / 11x12 / Aftermath of “The Lucky Ones” 

~

One Day

Daryl idly browsed the CDs and LPs stacked in boxes on a table in front of the general store. Need to clear my head after Hilltop, he thought, as he glanced at the reflection of “Elodies Bakery” on the glass window in front of him.

Hilltop was barely holding on. Hershel was happier than ever, looking more and more like Glenn every day – even if he got his smile from his granddaddy. Maggie and Lydia met him with brave faces, but he knew them better. Some things can’t be fixed ya know? Lydia’s words kept looping through his head as his eyes drifted to the reflection of the bakery again. 

He hadn't really spent any time with her in days. Sometimes they bumped into each other. They’d share updates, talk about life for a minute or two and then go their own way. But their conversations were always to the point, quick, and distant. 

It was hard not to sound distant or cold when she gave him the same tight-lipped smile she gave everyone else. His mind would go back to their fight, and he would close up – remember the cabin, how he almost lost her in the cave, or when she led the horde away. 

Then I lost her anyway 'cause I told her I wouldn't stop her if she left, he thought. 

But she stayed and fixed everything. Saved everyone and kept them fed while he was stuck with the Reapers. He returned knowing more than ever where he belonged, but they were in the Commonwealth before he could do anything about it. The wound left behind from their fight still waiting to be healed. 

Feels kinda pointless sometimes, Lydia had said when she told him about wanting to leave Hilltop. He understood that feeling all too well. He felt for Lydia. The kid had suffered through enough in her short life; she deserved a bit of peace.

However short-lived peace will be this time ‘round. The thought left an acidic taste on his tongue. But it’d be nice to have her close. He huffed a laugh, wondering if she’d want to live with him and the kids. But something in his heart told him Lydia would go live with-

“Hey.” 

Her voice jolted through his heart, and he tried to pretend it was because she caught him by surprise as he turned to look at her.

Carol.

Her hair was in a messy bun, silver glinting in the late afternoon sun, and she wore a blue top that made her eyes look impossibly blue. She pushed a stray strand of hair off her face as she walked up to him and gave him that tightlipped smile. It instantly dunked him in cold water. 

“Hi.”  

“Finished my shift early, so I picked the kids up from Jerry’s and thought to give them a treat.” She leaned her back on the table and looked out. He turned and followed her gaze to the ice cream truck on the other side of the square. Judith and RJ were eating ice cream at a table with Dog sitting patiently, wagging his tail. 

“How is she? How’s Hilltop?” she asked quietly. 

Daryl’s eyes were back on the stack he was perusing. He chewed his lip. “She’s survivin’, and so is Hilltop. Seen worse days.” 

He wanted to kick himself for his choice of words when she stiffened up in his periphery. He hadn’t meant it the way she’d heard it.

Daryl squinted up at her nervously and changed the subject. “Hey, thanks for that jar of lollipops for Hershel. Judith told me you got 'em for her.”

"I wish I'd known sooner. If I had more time, I would’ve prepared a proper care package for all of them." Carol barely held his gaze and looked down, idly tracing the cracks in the masonry on the ground with her shoe. 

“...Everyone else ok?” her voice trembled ever so slightly and tugged at his heart.

“Lydia’s good,” he responded softly.

She glanced up in surprise briefly. Her eyes were glassy, but relief washed over her face.

“Good. That’s good,” she responded with a shaky voice, turning to look at the kids.

“She’s havin’ second thoughts about stayin’ there, though.”

“She deserves some peace after… everything. It would be nice to have her here.” 

Hearing her perfectly echo his thoughts about Lydia made him miss her so damn much, even though she was right in front of him. His eyes lingered on her as he noticed the beads of sweat dotting the side of her face and the long silver lock of hair curling around her cheek. Daryl turned to follow her gaze again, and they watched the kids giggling away, with Dog – who had given up his quest for ice cream – now resting by Judith’s feet. 

“Maggie isn’t joining, is she?” Carol asked, breaking the silence. 

“Nah. She still don’t want anything to do with ‘em. Oceanside is standing with her.”

“I don’t blame her. After what she’s been through, I’d be cautious too. Besides, they can’t exactly be trusted.”

“You changin’ your mind?” he retorted, unable to keep the slight edge out of his tone.

His mind still stuck on her words at the fair – maybe we don’t need to do anything to make it work. Every time they tried to talk, somehow, their words poured salt over the gaping wound between them. And he didn’t know how to stop it.

She bristled, “Never said I trusted them, Daryl. I just hoped for the kids' sake that it would be different this time. But it never is, is it?" 

I hoped it’d be different, too, he wanted to say. Daryl looked back at the LPs and CDs, idly fiddling with them. 

Carol continued, "I’ve picked up a side job to find out what’s happening behind the scenes.” 

“What job?” He asked, feeling his heartbeat pick up. 

“I’m working with that guy Lance Hornsby. Trying to make some connections, and see if I can hear anything that helps us. See why they’re so interested in fixing our home, ya know?"  

Daryl nodded. At least there's still an "us", he thought.  

He wanted to respond, say something – Be safe. That Lance guy looks like a prick, don’t trust him. Stay with me... and the kids. Don’t go puttin’ yourself at risk for no reason. I miss you. Do you need my help? Tell me how to fix us. I’ll go with you. But the words swirled around his mind and lodged in his throat, struggling to escape. He randomly picked a CD case from the box and twirled it in his hands to hide the tremor in his fingers.

“How exactly are you planning on watching that?” The shift in her tone snapped him out of his thoughts. 

She eyed his hand, and he saw that he’d picked up a weathered case of ‘On Golden Pond’ somehow hidden in a stack of music CDs. 

“Hmpf.” His lips quirked up slightly. 

“Even if you had a way to watch it, I doubt Judith and RJ would sit through it,” she replied playfully. But his heart clenched a tiny bit when she didn’t include herself in the mix. 

“They might. It's a classic.” He snuck into a theater when he was about RJ’s age and watched the whole thing. 

“Sure,” she snickered.

He looked at her incredulously. “Hey, don’t knock it if you ain’t seen it.”

“Who says I haven’t?” she quirked her eyebrows. “Watched it with my grandma when I was a kid. It’s cheesy.” 

“You’re right. It ain’t no tabloid,” he deadpanned. He couldn’t help but smile at the stunned look on her face.

“I think if we could watch movies, it’d be nice to watch something newer. Not something as ancient as ‘On Golden Pond,’” she teased.

Still smiling, he shook his head. “If they figure out how to play movies here one day, I’m gonna show you why you’re wrong.”

“If that ever happens, and you make me watch ‘On Golden Pond’, then you're not allowed to pick the movie ever again.” She turned to face him with a smile on her face. “AND I’ll find the trashiest tabloid and make you read it.”

“And if you like it?” he challenged, turning to face her.

“A scoop of ice cream.” 

“Pfft.” He rolled his eyes. 

She narrowed her eyes, still smiling, “Dinner then.”

It’s a date, he wanted to say, but the words fizzled in his throat when he noticed her smile – the crinkly-eyed Carol smile he missed so much. The one she only reserved for him. His eyes moved on their own as they washed over the map of freckles on her face, the faint pink tinting her cheeks, the mischievous sparkle in her blue eyes. He noticed that her lips didn’t look chapped anymore and that they had more colour to them. 

Daryl pried his eyes away from her as the proximity made him want to close the distance and pull her into his arms. Flop his head on her shoulder and breathe her in. Forget about their fight, the things left unsaid, and the gaping wound that pulsed and ached to be healed.  

“A’right,” he cleared his throat, looking down. 

“I should go. Early shift tomorrow – the side thing.” Carol stepped back and turned away. 

Daryl nodded. 

Some things can’t be fixed ya know? Feels kinda pointless sometimes. When do you know? When it’s time to walk away. 

Lydia’s voice echoed from Hilltop in his mind as he helplessly watched Carol leave. Daryl rocked on his feet as the widening distance pulled him to follow, a million different things jumbling in his mind. The wound between them growing, burning, aching. I won’t stop you this time; the words barreled into him as Carol walked away.

“Carol!” Daryl called out.  

She turned around with a furrowed brow. 

“You got time for ice cream?” He pointed at the truck awkwardly. She hesitated. Daryl continued before his courage fizzled, “Don’t gotta watch an ancient movie with me this time.”

The furrow in her brow softened, and an amused smile played across her face.

“Okay.”

They joined the kids and grabbed a table. Dog greeted him briefly and went to sit near Carol – flopping his head on her lap. Daryl forced himself to pry his eyes away when they lingered on her face for too long. They didn’t talk about anything important as they ate their ice cream, but he felt the wound between them heal just a bit. 

He could tell the coming days would be difficult for all of them. As more things about the Commonwealth came to light, and things pulled them in different directions – their future seemed darker and more uncertain. But one day, the fight would be over, and they would have time to heal.

I ain’t givin’ up on us, Daryl thought as she turned and gave him that Carol smile. Not ever.  

[hawkinsindiana]

quite a few fellow swifties have been catching onto my references to various songs i have included in my fic. i felt it was finally time to share them all with you and some thoughts i had/why i chose these ones in particular. also because i am psychotic hehe, this list is in chronological order of the romance between the reader and steve.

so here it is: the comprehensive list of taylor swift songs that have inspired almost paradise

first up is delicate. kind of obvious if you ask me but literally… literally how could i not have this one on the list? it’s perfect in every sense of the word. things are tense between them but simultaneously it’s very easy? but it’s also so easy to say too much, let the other know a bit too much before they’re ready to hear it. but they want each other so desperately. they want to be able to say all these things. they can’t stop thinking about each other. there’s anxiety. it’s all about the y e a r n i n g. steve’s trying to get over nancy but he wants you. he needs you. you’ve loved him for months and are forced to wait for him to be ready. but it’s so close you don’t mind. he can take his time.

is it cool that i said all that?

is it too soon to do this yet?

‘cause i know that it’s delicate, isn’t it?

sometimes i wonder when you sleep

are you ever dreaming of me?

sometimes when i look into your eyes

i pretend you’re mine all the damn time

untouchable is up next and i debated whether or not this one should’ve been first in the order but honestly it fits better with two people in a weird limbo state than unrequited love.they’re waiting for the right moment more than anything else; they know they’re wanted by the other, but they’re at the universe’s mercy. this song also gives me sad junior prom vibes so maybe it actually is a bit about unrequited love the more i think on it.

i’m caught up in you

untouchable burning brighter than the sun

and when you’re close, i feel like coming undone

in the middle on the night when i’m in this dream

it’s like a million little stars spelling out your name

you gotta c’mon, c’mon

say that we’ll be together

third is labyrinth but told from steve’s perspective. he was under the impression his life was going to start going downhill after losing nancy, until the realization sets in that it was never her that made him so happy. it was always you. simultaneously, that shit terrifies and comforts him. you care about him so so much — ‘you’d break your back to make me break a smile’. he doesn’t think he’d be able to stop himself from falling for you even if he tried to resist it, which he’s definitely not.

uh oh, i’m falling in love

oh no, i’m falling in love again

oh, i’m falling in love

i thought the plane was going down

how’d you turn it right around?

next up is the archer. you and steve are both pretty good at self sabotage as it’s in your nature, but you’re both desperate to keep each other close. you’ve hurt him and vice versa. they’ve both done things that they wish to forget. they’re always ready for a fight bu tthey wish they weren’t. they wish to be normal. you’re tormented by post traumatic stress and nightmares. steve grows angrier and gentler every day. why would anyone want to stay? steve would stay. you would to.

i’ve been the archer

i’ve been the prey

who could ever leave me darling?

but who could stay?

you could stay

daylight my beloved. i knew this song had to be the overall anthem for part three. part three is about learning to love each other and everything that encompasses, including arguments and really sweet moments. rather than love feeling tumultuous and stressful, it’s fairly easy. once they both fall head first and realize it’s okay to be loved how you deserve, it’s over. there becomes a point where they begin to meet where the other ends and neither can tell anymore who they’d be if not supported by their love. that silly golden feeling never goes away.

i don’t wanna look at anything else now that i saw you

i don’t wanna think of anything else now that i’ve thought of you

i’ve been sleeping so long in a twenty year dark night

and now i see daylight

dress comes next. it’s a pretty clear reference to a friends to lovers situation that ends up being far stronger than either party was expecting. but no one knows. they’re keeping it a secret but are fairly confident this is more than just your ‘average’ relationship. they’ve made a mark on each other that’s never gonna go away. it’d be the worst heartbreak either of them have experienced and it’s only been a handful of months. steve realized his feelings at just the right time or he could’ve lost this chance with you. you’ve absolutely infatuated.

our secret moments, in a crowded room

they got no idea about me and you

there’s an indentation in the shape of you

you made your mark on me, a golden tattoo

CRUEL SUMMER! oh boy it’s time for 80s summer secret relationship deliciousness. i had already started thinking of ideas for season three when this song came out and it sparked something inside me. the summer of ‘85 is filled with the best and worst of times. all you want is to shout across the rooftops that you fucking love this boy. they sneak over to each other’s houses in the middle of the night. you visit steve at scoops after your shifts at the pool. he loves you. god, does he love you. but you can’t tell anyone, although his snarky coworker seems it have it all figured out. there’s only a finite amount of time they have left together before you leave for chicago. everything seems so big and important. then your brother hears a russian code. you’re tortured and forced to kill a soldier in order to escape with your life. your bliss is cut short. turns out the upside down is still a threat looming over you. it’s a cruel summer in every sense. i could go on and on about this song and it’s illusions to the season three forever.

said “i’m fine”, but it wasn’t true

i don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you

and i snuck in through the garden gate

every night that summer just to seal my fate

and i scream for whatever it’s worth

“i love you, ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?”

miss americana and the heartbreak prince fits so well it’s almost insane. steve harrington is the heartbreak prince. the high school setting is also perfect. here is where we start to enter into the territory regarding b*lly and the rumors and lies. suddenly the younger population of hawkins is fascinated with the nature of you and steve’s relationship. steve wants to protect you from what happened to him, but despite his valiant effort it happens anyways. he simultaneously finds himself falling deeper and deeper in love with you; he knows the real you, not the person b*lly tried to turn you into.

it’s you and me, that’s my whole world

they whisper in the hallway, “she’s a bad, bad girl”

the whole school is rolling fake dice

you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes

the next two are in a similar vein with being about the repercussions of b*lly’s actions and you and steve finally being open about your love. because of this, they subconsciously retreat inwards and spend a majority of their time together tucked away with their closest friends or family. outside of date nights at the hawk or the local diner and steve’s shifts at family video, they aren’t spotted out and about much. and when they are, it’s always uncomfortable. there’s far too many eyes on them. i know places is the perfect way to allude to this.

you stand with your hand on my waistline

it’s a scene we’re out here in plain sight

i can hear them whisper as we pass by

that’s a bad sign, bad sign

obligatory fuck you john mayer. would’ve could’ve should’ve has been one of my favorites to reference. i absolutely love the imagery of someone else’s actions haunting you and refusing to let you move on despite what has happened since. this show does ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to discuss trauma and what it does to a young mind, so i have always been adamant that the consequences had to be included in depth. you’re always going to regret b*lly. those few interactions you had with him affected your life far more than you’d like to admit. you have nightmares about him beating your love to death. you see someone who looks similar to him in a crowd and grow tense. a part of you feels responsible for what he did to steve. there’s a scar on your hand that you see every second of every day. even if all of this passes and you get a life of normalcy, you won’t truly. you’re never going to be able to forget; you’ll only learn to live with it.

i can’t let this go

i fight with you in my sleep

the wound won’t close

i keep on waiting for a sign

i regret you all the time

if clarity’s in death, then why won’t this die?

the final few all relate to the events of season four and how the relationship dramatically shifts from ‘yay we’re in love! this is so cute and nice!’ to ‘i think i wouldn’t be able to breathe if you weren’t alive’. casual stuff. forged soulmates and all that. the great war. while the song is meant to represent the period of arguments and fighting that a couple typically goes through at some point, i’m taking a literal interpretation here. suddenly there’s a new threat and it’s far more capable and dangerous than ever before. they end up losing. steve will always have the feeling of your limp body indented into his skin. this is the most challenging thing the two of them have ever experienced. the bliss they had been trapped in is quickly stolen from them. but through it all, they had each other. it’s mutually decided that if they survive, they’ll be completely dedicated to their love for the rest of their lives.

all that bloodshed

crimson clover

sweet dream was over

my hand was the one you reached for

all throughout the great war

always remember

tears on the letter, i vowed

not to cry anymore

if we survived the great war

epiphany serves as a compliment to the great war, as a normal life starts to be what they really desire. they’re sick and tired of living like this — always in fear, worried when the next bad thing is gonna happen. prior to vecna, steve didn’t allow himself to think much of the future for his own sake. somewhere in the back of his brain, he knew he was probably gonna marry you. but now, after all this tragedy, he has no problem admitting that’s what he really wants. he deserves something easy, but he’ll only do it if you get to be beside him. selfishly, he wants your future. everything they’ve been through would be worth it if they get to spend their lives together living happily.

but you dream of some epiphany

just one single glimpse of relief

to make some sense of what you’ve seen

with you, i serve

with you, i fall down

with that logic, peace is a no brainer. as much and you and steve want a peaceful life, you know you’re never going to have it. instead, a fierce trust and connection builds inside them that’ll last forever. not only do they want a future, they want a family. they want a couple of kids and a house in the suburbs and all the things that come with it. they’d welcome simplicity and ease gladly. they’ve fought for far too long. it wouldn’t be perfect, but it’d be theirs.

and you know that i’d

swing with you for the fences

sit with you in the trenches

give you my wild, give you a child

give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other

family that i chose now that i see your brother as my brother

is it enough?

another easy addition comes with sweet nothing. with all of these revelations about the relationship, it becomes clear that neither of them need anything from the other besides their love, attention, and support. for you and steve? that’s the easiest ask in the world. no matter what life throws at them, they’ll always always going to have each other. all that’s required is softness and stillness.

i find myself running home to your sweet nothings

outside they’re push and shoving

you’re in the kitchen humming

all i ever wanted from you was sweet nothing

and finally, the last song i’ve used as inspiration is you are in love. i’ll let these lyrics speak for themselves.

and so it goes

you two are dancing in a snow globe ‘round and ‘round

and he keeps a picture of you in his office downtown

and you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

and why i’ve spent my whole life trying to put it into words

‘cause you can hear it in the silence

you can feel it on the way home

you can see it with the lights out

you are in love, true love

thank you for reading my rambling :) getting to talk about taylor AND my fic? a dangerous combination. i’m sure that as she writes more songs there will be others to add to this list but this is how it stands as of rn! please oh please if there any others you feel could fit i would love to hear. i love hearing your thoughts :)