Hi! Can i ask some quick enemies to lovers with Jason Todd? Which is not much "enemies" but two prideful people that won't admit they have feelings for each other and they like... have similar personalities. It can be sfw or nsfw, it's up to you <3
Byee, thanks.
(Maybe reader also being a vigilante too hehe)
a/n: thank you for this amazing request. I was about to have so much fun with this!!! (also kinda left it open so if there is a desire for part two, just leave me a message!! <3)
It doesn't hit either of you like a brick wall or a train like it should. No. Because why would it? Love doesn't hit you over the head in the middle of the night. It happens slowly.
It happens when Oliver asks you to cut home early because you almost missed a step and went over the rooftop of a building. Which you deny but you know it happened because Oliver is never really one to say 'go home'. So you take his orders. Oliver shakes his head as he watches you go. Ever since he told you that some of the team from Gotham was coming to Star City to help a case you've ben off your game.
It happens when Jason doesn't see the trip wire. Dick has about seven seconds to clear the room and drag Jason with him. The two of them get safely away from the loud bomb. Bruce is talking over the comms, asking if everything is alright. Jason grumbles out some sort of response. Dick knows he's not on his A-game because he's part of the crew going to Star City, where you operate.
It happens when you come face to face with Red hood after not seeing him for a few months. The last time you saw him he saved you from a round of gunfire. You couldn't figure out if he saved you because it was the right thing to do or for some other reason.
It happens when the two of you have to guard a safe house for a couple of hours. There is nothing to do. It's mindless boredom. It's endless. It's so boring and Red doesn't make it easier because he doesn't try to converse with you either. You try to make small talk but he seems to talk in grunts or just silence.
It happens when the mission goes wrong. The informant is nipped on someone else's patrol. You and Red are called in to figure out who did it and to track their every move. You spend about eight hours by his side and say about ten words to him.
It happens when you two find the culprit and are faced with a difficult decision. Take justice into your own hands or hand them over to the Oliver and Bruce. Red leaves it up to you.
And for some odd reason, that's when you realize it. At that moment it dawns on you. Like the final crumb of sand falling in a hourglass. You like Red. You like him even if he doesn't speak a word to you, or if you fail and fumble in front of him.
You try your best to keep it to yourself.
But it's hard to do that when he seems, different.
After that night when he left the choice up to you, he seems to be another version of himself. A version you didn't know existed. He greets you, he tries to make small talk, and he gives you compliments and praise.
Oliver and Bruce notice it too. They keep their smiles and shit eating grins to themselves. Honestly the two of them honestly make this a thing amongst themselves. Who can get the ball rolling first?
Bruce asks Jason about it one night after patrol. To which Jason replies with a stern 'no' and nothing else. Oliver asks you when he takes you out for lunch and you also tell him a simple 'no' and move on.
It keeps happening like this. Red does something that makes you think maybe, sort of, possibly. But you don't take that step. And Red goes through the same thing about you. And talks himself out of telling you anything.
One day though, it does come to an end.
You're in an alley in Gotham. You're not on a mission. You're just a civilian in this situation. A civilian who wants to take an alleyway cut instead of walking two blocks. It's safe to say that when you get held up at gun point you regret not walking those two simple blocks.
What goes down, goes down fast. You manage to get the jump on two of the scumbags. But one of them does have a gun. They aim it right at you and the shot should hit you but it doesn't. It doesn't because of someone.
Red hood stands between you and the gun. The bullet flies off his patted amor chest. You watch as all the guys in the alleyway scurry like rats. You're left there, wide eyed and shocked.
Red Hood turns to you and offers you a hand up. You take it, and try to think of something to say. Anything. A thank you. A sorry. Something that should leave your mouth. But all you can think about is how he's saved your life again.
And that's the word you say. 'again'
It catches him off guard. So much so that he takes a step back. You think you might've said the wrong thing. But then again, you think to yourself that he won't really know what you're talking about. You're seeing him as a civilian. He's never seen you as a civilian. He doesn't know who you are.
But he could now.
He could now.
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feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART 8.5 (JOEL'S POV)
previous chapters | so after the last chapter there were SO many people who really wanted to understand joel's actions, and i thought instead of him simply explaining to reader what happened, why don't i just write a chapter entirely from his point of view instead? hopefully this answers some questions, enjoy! and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕
chapter summary: you're not the only one who has a busy weekend ahead of them. one text changes the trajectory of joel's relationship with you - for better or worse. (this is essentially chapter seven and eight from joel's pov)
rating: 18+ explicit
warnings for this chapter: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, discussions of child abandonment, mental health & cheating, alcohol, allusions to past sexual encounters between joel and his ex, brief flashbacks to smut from previous chapters
word count: 13k
ao3
He thinks about you so much more often than he should.
Your soft skin, your smile, your eyes, your hair, your little giggles, your shy and breathless whimpers.... your body, pliant and sweet beneath his touch, open and willing and waiting.
You're so perfect. You're so young.
He's never been with someone so much younger than him before. He's not sure you realize that. But that day on his doorstep when you'd wandered down the sidewalk looking like a bit of a lost puppy, that little frown line prominent between your eyebrows that he's come to adore, something clicked. You brought out a side of him he'd long since buried; he knew he had to have you. He just knew. Could feel it in the pit of his stomach when those gorgeous eyes had come to rest on him. Wide and innocent and sad. Something he saw there that made him pause.
He'd have had you that day if you'd let him, a fact that he's still grappling with. Long gone are the days where he'd meet a woman and take her home within a twenty four hour span - long gone are the days where he's so much as been interested in a woman he didn't know well enough, someone safe and secure and familiar. But he hoped you'd be back, almost knew you would, could see it in the way you shivered under his gaze, the way your eyes lingered on his face, on his fingers. He hadn't felt like being charming in a long time; he'd genuinely surprised himself with the flirtatious comments, the sly smiles, double meanings. But he couldn't help himself.
He'd wanted you so bad. The moment you'd disappeared down the street he'd gotten in the shower and fucked his fist for only a few minutes before coming all over the tiled wall at the very thought of you. He didn't even know your name but had already memorized the curves of your body, the shape of your lips, the smell of your skin when he'd gotten close enough. He'd practically limped back to his bedroom and collapsed on the bed in a heap, staring up at the ceiling with nothing but shock and confusion. Where the fuck had that come from?
He's such a dirty old man.
Old being the operative word. He turns fifty seven in a few months and the thought makes him feel physically ill. It's not that he necessarily hates the thought of getting older, of being one step closer to knocking on death's door, but more-so the fact that he's almost fifty seven and has almost nothing to show for it. His life is a mess, has been a mess for as long as he can remember.
But now... you.
You... full of life and eagerness and kindness. A soft and gentle angel in his bed, on his couch, in his kitchen. So shy and quiet, telling him what you think about, what you worry about. Letting him whisper the filthiest things in your ear while you whimper and moan, letting him touch you the way you deserve to be touched, the way you've never been touched before.
You bring something out in him he can't explain. He'd invited you inside that first day looking for a quick fuck and he admits it was a moment of weakness, the whole thing. He knows Sarah and Mish would kill him for even considering treating you that way, like an object, something to be conquered. The past version of himself who briefly felt that way about you makes him angry now.
Because now he really wants you. Not just a fuck - he wants you. He thinks about you all the fucking time and it scares the shit out of him. What started as something dirty and frivolous quickly turned into something tender and sweet the moment you told him you were a virgin, and he doesn't know how to handle it. You're so fucking lovely but so fucking sad and unsure, full of apprehension, regrets, insecurities, things he sees in himself. You remind him so much of himself at that age and he just wants to take care of you, be the person for you that he didn't have.
But you're so fucking young.
He tries to push the feelings down. He's purposely distant to you, especially during the week. You send him sweet little messages, tell him about your day, ask him about his. He stares at them for so long without answering them, and when he does answer his replies are short and vague. Because how can he say what he really wants to say? I think about you so much, angel. I want you to be mine. I don't want you to chase after any college boys or have any college boys chasin' after you. I wanna be your first and I wanna be your only.
How can he put you in that position? You're having fun, you're learning things, but there's absolutely no way you see any sort of future with him. The fact that he can already see one with you is the biggest red flag in itself - what the fuck is wrong with him?
But you're just so fucking sweet. So lovely. So gorgeous. He wants you in his bed and he wants you to stay there. He knows he'll be the first person to ever fuck you and that thought is enough to keep him going, yet he can't help but want more. But it's so selfish - you're young and bright-eyed and pretty and perfect, the promise of an incredible future ahead of you. And he's just... him.
He's old. He's grumpy. He's washed up. Became a father in high school. Got married. Got divorced. Has had more failed relationships than successful ones. Has been working the same job since he was twenty years old, a job he fucking hates. Loathes it with his entire being. Still doing the same work for the majority of his life with almost no breaks, no stops. He knows he should retire, should have done it years ago, but he's afraid.
He's always been fucking terrified of change. Earlier this year he'd moved into a new neighborhood. He'd gotten sick of the house he'd once shared with Mish, then Mish and Sarah, then just Sarah - the one she'd lived in sporadically 'til she was twenty six and finally felt financially stable enough to go out on her own. He'd stayed there about ten more years out of convenience, had another failed relationship with a woman who deserved far better than what he could give her, then finally pulled the plug and got something new for himself a few hours away, hoping it'd change his perspective. He'd picked a place with privacy, good acoustics, thought maybe he'd play his guitar more - focus on his music and slowly phase himself out of the contracting business.
But months later, he's still working it. The thought of being unemployed after working this hard his entire life, just ending up sad and alone in this new house, still not even properly furnished or decorated, makes him want to throw up. What the fuck would he do with all that free time? He's always wondered exactly how he'd spend it, how life could be enjoyable without the structure of his livelihood, but then he shakes it off and just keeps going because he knows the alternative has to be worse. But now... you.
You - who if you truly knew what a fucking failure he is, the boring bag of bones he pretends he's not when he's with you - would leave his bed and never come back.
You - who if you found out about his ex wife, his daughter, both of whom live adventurous and exciting lives while he's done nothing but stay still in the comforts of familiarity - would probably find him beyond pathetic.
You - who can do so much better.
He just knows that it can't last.
--
He gets the text from Sarah on Wednesday morning:
Hey Dad!! Me and Mom are doing our annual road trip, thought we'd stop down there for a bit and have a look at your new house!!
He tries not to notice the excitement of seeing his daughter being slightly dulled by the promise of being accompanied by her mother. In a way it makes him sad, because he loves Mish, has loved her since he was seventeen years old. He cares deeply about her and has always wanted nothing but the best for her, has always enjoyed her visits in the past - for more than one reason. But now...
No. He has to shake the thought away before he freaks himself out.
Kiddo!!!! That's exciting, when were you thinkin?
We'll be there by Friday afternoon!! Sorry for the short notice but we weren't sure if it'd be possible til today. We're actually trying to stick to a schedule this time believe it or not.
That's ok, you know it doesn't matter to me. Wanna see you any time. Miss you a lot.
Aw Dad I miss you too, I can't wait to see you!!! We'll text when we're getting close. Gonna check into a motel that night and we'll be leaving again the next morning, gotta stay on track.
He almost offers his guest room. Almost. But then thinks better of it.
Sounds good kiddo, see you then :)
Mish texts him later that afternoon. He'd been expecting it, knew she would want to double check that the visit was alright, but her name popping up in his notifications sends a jab of anxiety to the pit of his stomach. It's one thing for Sarah to visit on her own, but both of them together always adds a... different layer to the situation. A layer that needs addressing. A layer that he'd usually have more than a little excitement for, some anticipation - but not this time.
Sarah's got me roadtrippin again
She loves to make you suffer.
Don't I know it
He can't help but chuckle to himself, but his smile fades quickly as soon as the next message comes in:
Gonna be stopping by on Friday. You good for our usual?
He stalls.
Thought you were still with Elvis.
ALVIN. And no that's over
Sorry about that.
Like hell you are
He purposely doesn't answer her question, and she doesn't send anything else. The anxiety doesn't go away though - it spreads throughout his body until he's an absolute mess, shaky hands and ringing ears at the job site as he tries to stay focused, but ultimately fails to. His crew flits here and there around him without much direction and they end up going overtime, leading to an angry call from the boss, a call that leaves his hands clenched into fists by the time he gets to the bar with the crew. Fuck. This. Job.
He drinks too much, tries to calm himself, keep his thoughts steady. He pretends he doesn't know why he's feeling like this, pushes down all the reasons he wishes Sarah was traveling by herself this time. But deep down, he knows.
He gets a ride home with one of his buddies, limbs aching in a way that they haven't for a while. He always has days like this, days where the physical labor catches up to his aging body and reminds him that he really shouldn't be doing this job anymore, but somehow it's worse this time; the mental load from Mish's texts are giving him a discomfort he can't really describe.
He remembers only as he crosses the threshold that he promised he'd call you. Shit.
He does, but he can't remember much of what he said the next morning, only that he vented a bit. He hopes with every bone in his body that he didn't mention Mish, that his complaints focused solely on work.
Your texts that afternoon from the church bathroom prove this to be the case, and he breathes a sigh of relief when you agree to come see him that night. He knows he'll feel calm in your company, that the anxiety will ebb away in your presence.
He tries not to think about the implications of that.
God, he's fucked.
--
You had a horrible day.
You show up on his doorstep with tears shining in your eyes and that soft little line furrowed deep between your brows, the line he adores, wants to smooth with his thumb. He pulls you in close and breathes you in and finds that the anxiety, the worry, the uncertainty, all of it disappears in your embrace. You tell him you don't want to do anything, just want to be with him.
You have no idea how much it means to hear you say that to him.
He lays you in his bed and holds you for a while, listens as you tell him about what happened, confide in him. You tell him more about your upbringing and your family, your school years and friends, the pressure and scrutiny you've felt suffocated by your whole life. And god if you're not describing him. You have no idea how fucking similar the two of you are, how much he wants to wrap you up and protect you from the world and from all the people who threaten to dull the light in your eyes. Don't become like me, he wants to whisper, you deserve so much better.
He could listen to you talk for hours. That soft voice lulls him into a state of nirvana he's never experienced, body practically going numb with how in tune it is with your words, like he's become some kind of plant absorbing all your emotions, thoughts, feelings, as you bare yourself to him. You're so lovely. Please never stop talking.
It all culminates in the removal of your crucifix. He barely even thinks about it, just knows exactly what he has to do to calm you, to make you feel better, to steal back some of those worries from you and lock them away for a little bit where they can't hurt you. It's the least he can do. He wants to do it.
It's a gesture he doesn't fully realize the importance of, the magnitude - not yet, anyway.
He backtracks while you shower. It's just sex. This is not going any further than you showing her how it's done, preparing her for the real world, for the future men who actually stand a chance with her. The thought makes him dig his nails deep into his duvet as he settles under the sheets and takes a deep breath. She's not yours. She doesn't want you the way she thinks she does. She doesn't know the real you.
He can't help but picture you in his shower, standing naked under the hot water, in the exact spot he's gotten himself off to your very image. His dick twitches in his pajama pants and he has to adjust himself, cursing softly at his dirty thoughts and reminding himself that nothing is happening tonight, that you don't want to. He's not even disappointed, doesn't care that the sexting from earlier isn't coming to fruition tonight; just laying with you is enough for him. And he hates himself because he knows exactly what that means.
His phone vibrates while he's waiting and he picks it up from the nightstand - a text from Sarah:
Gettin closer! We should be there tomorrow, probably late afternoon. Do you work Fridays?
Yep, he wants to say, Monday to Friday, every week of my entire life since before you were born, but of course he doesn't. Would never.
I do but I'll be back around 5:30 or so. I'll give you a call when I'm home.
Sounds good!!!
Also:
An image comes in and he taps it, squinting his eyes to figure out exactly what he's looking at. He can make out Sarah and Mish sitting atop some statue of a bull they must have encountered outside a gas station. Sarah's arm is thrown back as she poses with her signature killer smile, while Mish grips the bullhorns and sticks her tongue out, braids peeking out from under a cowboy hat. There's something about it that's familiar, something he can't quite place as his eyes strain without the aid of his glasses - the ones he never wears. He pushes his phone away from his eyes, brings it back and hopes to bring the image into focus a little bit.
Oh. It's his hat.
And fuck, if he doesn't know how that makes him feel.
"You need glasses," he hears you say softly, and he looks up from the image of his daughter and ex wife to see you standing at the edge of the bed, clad in nothing but a towel.
He locks his phone and hopes you weren't standing there too long.
--
He doesn't know how to tell you that he won't be able to see you tonight.
He spends the morning in complete and utter bliss, waking up to your bashful request to give him a blowjob. You're so fucking sweet, even when asking for something so filthy. Your mouth is soft and warm around his cock and he feels like he's died and gone to heaven, wants desperately to spill inside and watch you swallow but knows it's not the right time, not yet.
He wonders what your face would look like covered in his come.
Dirty. Old. Man.
You burn his breakfast and furiously apologize, cursing under your breath as you soak the freshly burnt pan under the faucet and frown at your failure. But he doesn't view it as a failure; for him it's just another thing to add to the mental list of reasons he thinks you're adorable.
You ride his thigh. He makes you come, the most beautiful little sounds escaping your lips as you ride it out. He loves how that little worry line between your brows always returns when he's making you feel good, like he really is taking some of that worry away and replacing it with pleasure. He only wants to see that line when he's making you come. He never wants to see you sad again like you'd been last night, just wants to hold you in his arms and protect you from the world.
But then it's time to go and he still hasn't told you about tonight. He does not want to lie to you. He refuses to. But what else can he say? Just that he'll be out late? What if you ask him why? And god, it's not like he's gonna do anything. He's not gonna entertain Mish's offer, not this time. He shouldn't. He won't.
You save him the trouble. Your friend from college is visiting, a girl named Tasha - she's taking you out for the first time ever. He supposes that makes things much easier; no explaining or giving excuses, no revealing things he's not ready to reveal. He dodged a bullet.
Right?
So why does he still feel like such a prick?
--
He gets home from work and calls Sarah, just like he said he would. He only has a short window of time to do a bit of sprucing - fluff the couch pillows a bit, do a quick wipe down of the bathroom - before the doorbell is ringing and he's jogging to the door with excitement coursing through his veins. The anxiety has dulled at the mere promise of seeing his daughter on the other side of that door.
"DAD!" she squeals excitedly as he thrusts it open, and he's immediately enveloped in the warmth of Sarah's embrace, sweet and familiar.
"Kiddo," he breathes into her hair, feeling tears prick in his eyes like they always do, "Missed ya."
"Missed you too," she says into his shoulder, muffled and quiet, "So much, Dad, you have no idea."
They have their moment together, eyes closed as they sway on the spot and smile tearfully - it's been almost a year since her last visit. It didn't used to feel as palpable, those long periods of time between seeing each other, but as he's gotten older he finds that he misses her a lot; his little pal, not so little anymore. Thirty eight now, a full blown woman with a loving husband and a freshly solid career as an author, the life he always wanted for her.
"How're things?" he asks softly, "You doin' okay? Need any money?"
She laughs, "Things are good. I'm good, I promise."
"How's Jude, he good?"
"He's great, and the book's been doin' really well."
"I'm so happy to hear that, kiddo, really. Happy for both of you."
"Thanks, Dad," she murmurs, sniffling a little bit, "Couldn't have done it without you, hope you know that."
And then she's pulling away, wiping the tears from her eyes and waving to the purple convertible behind her, gesturing for Mish to get out of the car.
Here we go.
She steps out and god, she's gorgeous. Age has done nothing but enhance her beauty. She's never not been the most stunning woman in a room, soft skin a glowing deep umber, supple long legs and playful smile and those dark brown - almost black - eyes that practically sparkle when she looks at him. Like the way she's looking at him now... fuck.
"Hey," she says with a sly grin, shutting the car door behind her and making her way up the front steps.
"Hey," he echoes back, "How was the drive?"
"Long," she groans, reaching him and going in for a hug. It's nowhere near as long or as intimate as Sarah's, but the feeling of her body against his feels just as familiar and comforting. It's so easy to fall back into their rhythm. Too easy. "You been good?" she asks as they part.
He nods quickly, "Yeah, you?"
"Can't complain," she replies with a smile.
"Oh please," Sarah scoffs beside her, "All you've done is complain," she looks to Joel with a grimace, "Alvin's out of the picture."
"Sarah," Mish admonishes quickly, brows narrowing.
"Yeah, I heard somethin' about that," he says, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, "Uh - that's too bad, Mish. He was, um... he was a good guy."
"No, he wasn't," she sighs, rolling her eyes and giving Sarah another look, "But that's a conversation for another time, right?"
Sarah puts her hands up in defense, "Sorry, sorry, my bad. We've been in the car too fuckin' long," she peeks past him with a curious expression on her face, "Can we come in? I wanna see your new house."
He shows them around, though there's not much to see, something which Mish points out almost immediately.
"Where's the character?" she asks, raising an eyebrow as she assesses the living room, "Like where's your stuff, Joel?"
"There's not even pictures of us anywhere," Sarah adds with a frown, scanning one of the bookshelves, "It's like we don't even exist."
He grimaces, hands on his hips, "I know, I'm sorry. I still have a few boxes up in the guest room but," he sighs, "You know me, I hate gettin' emotional over shit from the past. And half those boxes got your old school stuff, and-"
"Your Dad's a sentimental guy," Mish interjects with a soft smile, giving him those eyes again, "It's okay, we'll unpack 'em for you."
He scoffs, "We ain't got time for that, Mish."
"I always have time to be sentimental," her smile grows wider and she throws him a wink - his heart stutters.
"Well I always have time for a movie marathon," Sarah suddenly says, turning from the shelves with an array of DVDs in her hands, "Whaddaya say, Dad? Curtis and Viper? After the bar?"
He cocks an eyebrow, "The bar?"
"Oh? Didn't you hear? We're takin' you out, cowboy," Mish says with a smirk, "Or - I guess you're takin' us out. Whatever, either way we're goin' for dinner and drinks like the well adjusted wholesome family we are."
"And then we're gonna eat too much junk food and pass out on the couch like the good old days," Sarah adds, tossing the DVDs onto the coffee table, "Miller family fun."
"And do I get any say in this?"
They both turn to him at the same time with almost the same expression on their faces, and he knows he's already lost.
He wouldn't have it any other way.
--
They have dinner at their favorite chain, practically inhale their burgers and fries as Sarah and Mish catch Joel up on the trip so far, where they've been, what they've seen. He's grateful that the conversation is still on them by the time they get the check and start heading to the bar; he really doesn't want to answer any questions about himself tonight unless he has to.
The bar is louder than usual, much more packed than he's ever seen it. He grumbles this to Sarah and Mish but they just roll their eyes and order their drinks, cozying up together on their barstools and laughing hysterically over things that certainly aren't that funny. They're exhausted from their road trip and he can tell, tries to urge them to head back to the house after about fifteen minutes of being at the bar, but they resist.
"I like this place better than your old joint," Mish calls to him over the chatter, "Smells better too."
"Am I supposed to say thank you?" he calls back with a grin, and she just rolls her eyes and orders him another whiskey.
They don't stay too long, just enough for the girls to get their fill and toss back a few beers, continuing to tell Joel about their trip. Sarah scrolls through the pictures on her phone and shows him the tourist traps, the stops they've made here and there, the food they've eaten. Mish chimes in every so often to add her own anecdotes, bouncing off Sarah's stories naturally like she always has.
He loves how easy it feels to be with them, how comfortable, how safe. He's missed them so much. He wishes things could just stay like this for the rest of the night, simple and light, but every so often he catches Mish looking at him from under her lashes, those dark eyes searching his for something in particular, and he remembers there's still something they haven't addressed.
"Oh my god, Mom," Sarah suddenly says with wide eyes, pointing toward the front of the bar, "Do you see that girl's hat?"
"Where?"
"Those girls over there, look at that purple cowboy hat. Fuuuck, we should be wearing ours!"
Joel rolls his eyes, not bothering to look in the direction Sarah's pointing to and instead focusing on his whiskey, trying to think of ways he can get them out of this bar. Curtis & Viper is suddenly calling his name.
"They're still in the car if you wanna grab 'em," Mish says with a laugh, tossing Sarah the keys, "If you can walk straight."
"Oh please, I've had one beer. We're not all lightweights in this family, ya know," she presses a kiss to her mother's cheek before sliding past to head back to the front of the bar.
"Well, now that we have a moment alone..." she leans forward a bit on her elbow, hand cupping her chin as she tilts her head, "You didn't answer my question the other day, cowboy."
Here it is, the conversation he's been dreading, the one thing he's been putting off talking about the most. And why has he been dreading it? Why has he been filled with so much discomfort and anxiety at the thought of telling Mish that even though he's technically single, he can't be with her this time? It's not like she'd be angry with him, like she'd misunderstand or throw a fit over it. So why can't he just say it?
He knows why. It's because he doesn't want to tell Mish about you. It's because the second he says no, she'll see right through him; she'll know. She'll know immediately that there's somebody else, and she'll clock his feelings - the feelings he's been forcing himself to bury - and then he'll have to confront them, what they really mean.
And as usual, he's terrified.
He plays dumb, "What question?"
She inches the stool forward with a smirk, eyeing him pointedly as he feels her bare leg touch his jeans, slowly drifting up and down along his calf. Fuck. She tilts her head, eyes falling to his lips and then going back up to meet his gaze.
"Playin' coy, are we?" she asks softly, "Need me to say it out loud, huh?"
He feels goosebumps rise all over his arms at the sound of her voice like that, low and sultry; it's the voice she reserves just for these private moments together, fully aware of the effect she has over him.
"You gonna fuck me, cowboy?" she continues, eyes falling to his lips again, "Huh? You been missin' me in your bed?"
Fuck.
He doesn't say anything, just watches as her face moves a little closer to his, the hint of his favorite sly smile puling at the corner of her mouth. She assesses him quietly, gaze raking over his features.
"You're shy tonight, aren't you?" she says, fluttering her lashes, "You need me to take care of you, baby boy? You need your mommy?"
Only Mish could get away with saying something like that to him. He can't help but let a grin cross his own face as he shakes his head at the words, feeling his cheeks flush. He's still unsure what to say, what to think, how to feel. Under any other circumstance they would already be fucking in a bathroom stall at this point, and in a few seconds she's gonna realize that and wonder why the fuck he won't give in.
She kisses him then. Softly.
And it's right. It's so fucking right in all the ways it's always been. Her mouth is warm, lips plump and wet and sweet against his, capturing his bottom lip between hers in that seductive fashion she's oh so good at. Without any thought, as if on instinct, his hand comes up to cup her face, holding her there for a moment as he breathes her in. He realizes how easy it would be to just fall back into this rhythm, this old habit they've been indulging themselves in for years. It just feels so right.
But it's also so fucking wrong.
It's wrong. It's so wrong. This is not the mouth he wants to be kissing. For years, he's always found comfort and safety in Mish's kiss, never once felt like what they were doing was incorrect or some kind of mistake. But now it's like every fiber of his being is telling him to stop. To pull away. To end this as soon as possible.
So he does.
He takes a deep breath as they separate, pulls back from her on his stool a bit and takes another sip of whiskey. No, this can't happen. It's not going to happen. But he's gonna have to tell her that, otherwise she'll take the next step and he's not sure he'll be able to reign it in after that. The thought of her naked body underneath him in his bed is admittedly a tantalizing offer, the thought of being inside her again after so many years apart...
But she won't be the first naked woman in that bed. In that house. Someone else has already staked their claim, regardless of whether what he shares with you is real or not. And that thought is what pulls him out of it.
"Sarah's right," he says with a smile, "You are a lightweight."
She cocks her brow, "You think I'm drunk?"
He chuckles and takes another sip, "I think you're only here for one night and we should be spendin' that one night with our daughter."
She doesn't say anything for a second, just watches him thoughtfully until he finally meets her gaze again.
"Joel Miller, are you gettin' laid?"
He almost chokes on his whiskey, unable to stop himself from snorting as he shakes his head and peers at her with that fond look he's always given her, the one that lets her know that despite everything, he fucking adores her. She leans a bit closer, tilting her head a bit more with intrigue.
"Seriously, you seein' anyone?" she seems genuinely interested, eyes alight with curiosity, "You got someone new?"
Before he can say anything - before he even really knows what to say - Sarah has reappeared at the bar, hats in hand. He looks down at them and raises an eyebrow as Mish grabs hers, or rather his, the ratty old brown one he used to wear sometimes in the eighties. She grins and winks as if to say yeah, I stole it, so what?
"Okay well, purple cowboy hat girl is currently holding her friend's hair while she throws up on the sidewalk," Sarah sighs, placing her own atop her head.
Joel and Mish groan simultaneously, "Been there," they both say at the same time, catching each other's eye before Joel turns his attention back to his drink, almost gone now. She doesn't ask him anything else, but he knows this conversation is far from over.
--
Sarah drops them off at his place, promising to be back in a bit with the much anticipated junk food - no point in them all going together. Joel almost tells her not to go, his heart in his throat as he and Mish climb out of the car. He can't believe how desperate he suddenly is to not be alone with her. But he can't bring himself to say anything.
Coward.
She walks into the house first, almost like she's leading him into the lion's den. There's no escaping her questions now, no more running away from the inevitable. He has to tell her before it's too late. The front door closes behind them and they stand frozen for a moment, not speaking, not even really looking at each other. He could cut the tension with a knife.
"So how 'bout showin' me those boxes?" she finally asks, turning to give him a smile.
They make their way up the stairs to the guest room, Joel's anxiety reaching new levels when they pass by his bedroom. He not so subtly grabs the knob and pulls the door closed, tries to pretend he doesn't notice Mish eyeing him as he does it.
The guest room is still pretty bare bones, only a bed and dresser occupying the space, along with about half a dozen cardboard boxes. He's been meaning to do it up for when Sarah comes to stay, do some decorating, but he's never been good at that kind of stuff - Mish and Sarah were always the creative ones.
They crouch on the floor together and Joel watches as Mish pops open the first box, digging her hand inside and immediately coming out with a framed photo of Sarah's kindergarten graduation.
"Aw, look," she murmurs, thumbing the glass lightly and turning it toward him, "Little bean."
"She was so excited you came," he says with a smile, "It was all she talked about for months."
Mish smiles back sadly, eyeing the photograph one more time before placing it on the floor. She reaches in again and comes out with another framed photo, this one of an even younger Sarah being pushed on a swing by Joel. She's probably almost two, chubby legs poking out through the holes of the swing as she giggles in wonder, Joel standing behind, squinting against the sun.
"I've always loved this one," she says quietly, showing it to him, "Always wanted a copy to keep."
"We can make that happen," he takes it from her and looks down at it himself, feeling a mixture of emotions flutter in his heart at his much younger self - freshly twenty - pushing his little girl. He'd been on his own for a while at that point; he can see the tiredness in his expression, the loneliness.
"Still mad I missed all that," she murmurs, sitting back on her heels and sighing deeply, "Hate myself so much sometimes."
He's not sure what to say, just puts the picture back down and reaches in for another one - Sarah's high school graduation this time. It's a backyard photo, one taken at the barbecue they'd had with about thirty people all crammed into one frame. There are smiles all around, beer bottles raised, and Sarah in the center wearing that beautiful purple dress she'd spent almost a year working on. Mish and Joel stand on either side of her, frozen in a moment of laughter.
What the camera didn't catch was that behind that purple dress, they were holding hands.
"What a party that was, huh?" Mish glances up at him from under her lashes, those dark eyes sparkling with nostalgia, "You remember?"
He smiles softly, "I remember."
--
The arrangement started in '03.
They hadn't seen each other in about three years when she showed up on his doorstep in the summer of '96. She'd been in and out of their lives before then, usually called every other week to check in and talk to Sarah but rarely ever showed her face. Sarah barely knew her but had a love for her that burned so deep that Joel couldn't say half the things he wanted to. Couldn't tell his daughter that her mother was unpredictable and unreliable, that she'd disappeared for almost two years after Sarah had been born, hadn't checked in once, had only begun to show up again in 1988 when Sarah was almost three. And then one day the calls just stopped coming and he had no other choice but to tell her the truth. She was only eight.
Mish showing up again out of the blue when Sarah was eleven was not something they could have ever predicted. He was angry. She was sorry. She'd been to a facility, had been seeing a psychiatrist and a therapist for a solid chunk of time and was on medication. Sarah slapped her across the face and sprinted barefoot down the street until her toes were bloody and she couldn't run anymore. Joel found her and cradled her in his arms like he'd done when she was a baby, promised he'd make Mish go away if that's what Sarah wanted.
It was not what she wanted. She wanted a mom. She wanted her mom. She wanted them to be together.
After that, all they could do was try and heal.
And Mish tried. She did. She was ready. Joel was willing to listen. Sarah forgave, slowly. By Christmas of '97 they were living together again. They'd put their wedding rings back on.
But it couldn't last.
"Maybe this just isn't meant to work," she'd whispered to him tearfully on their back patio on a rainy day in March of '98, head in her hands, "I'm better in some ways but worse in others. I'm not meant for this kinda life, Joel. I just can't stay still anymore."
"Maybe we aren't meant to work," he'd told her firmly, "But Sarah needs you, Michelle. You can't just keep coming back into her life and then disappearing. If you do, you're never gonna see her again."
"I know," she'd whispered, quiet and scared, "I know, Joel. And I won't, I'll never do that to her ever again. But I just..." she'd hung her head, tears streaming down her face, "I just don't know what to do."
He'd suddenly felt a flash of deja vu, a reminder of a moment similar to this one twelve years earlier, when he'd held her just like this while she'd cried in his arms, hopelessness raking through both their trembling forms in the downpour.
"They'll kill me, Joel. They're gonna kill me. How am I supposed to be a mom? This can't be real. This isn't happening. What are we gonna do?"
"I don't know, Mish. But I'm with you, okay? I'm not goin' anywhere. You got me. I don't care what they think, what they wanna do. It's just you and me, you hear me?"
"You and me, Joel. Just you and me."
She left Joel and the life they'd cultivated in the year since she came back, but she didn't leave Sarah, not this time. She kept up with regular visits, called often, tried her best to be a mother in the only ways she knew how. Eventually Joel stopped worrying she'd disappear again, and she didn't. Sarah and Mish's relationship wasn't an easy one, especially during those first few years of being reconnected, but eventually they were mother and daughter again. The way it always should have been. They'd go on adventures together, road trips and concerts and trips to amusement parks, everything they could to make up for lost time.
As for she and Joel, they became friends. For the first time in a long time they talked again, really talked. They got to know each other from scratch without the pressures of trying to be people they weren't; she'd come to stay every so often and she'd be more than welcome in their home, a reassuring presence to Sarah and a comforting one for him. There were times he almost kissed her again, almost embraced her the way they used to embrace, but then he'd remind himself that they didn't work. Couldn't work. He'd push the feelings down and love her from a distance, the only way he could.
She came to stay for Sarah's graduation in '03. They had a big party, invited everyone they knew, got very drunk. The inevitable finally happened, something they'd been skirting around for the past few years every time they saw each other, the attraction and tension building and building the longer they went without admitting that they still wanted one another. They'd been through the ringer together and came out the other side and still looked at each other like they had in high school. It was only a matter of time.
They fucked all night and into the morning.
"Oh my god," he'd groaned into her ear, naked bodies splayed against each other in bed, entwined together for the first time in almost seven years, "I missed that. Jesus fuck, I missed that."
It was only meant to be that one time, a celebration of some sort that happened unexpectedly but never again. That was the case until she came back in '06, still single, still beautiful, and he couldn't help himself. They both couldn't help themselves.
The arrangement was simple: whenever they reunited with each other and they were both single, both wanted it, they'd have sex.
It worked. And it was good, so fucking good. Every time. They were wild with it, felt younger than they'd ever been whenever they were tangled up in Joel's bed, on the couch, in the shower. They tried new things together and had more fun than they'd ever had when they were actually in a relationship. Each time it was like they were playing pretend; pretending for a short while that their everyday problems didn't exist, nothing else existed but them. Just them - just this moment.
The last time he saw Mish was four years ago. He'd been fresh out of his last relationship, the only relationship that had really meant something to him since his marriage. Tess was lovely, beautiful and funny and exactly the person he'd needed after those tumultuous years with Mish; someone calm and collected, stable and secure. They were just friends first, for a while, but eventually developed a sexual relationship that was only ever meant to be casual. After about a year she'd confessed her feelings and he'd thought, what the hell, I might as well try. Unfortunately, his what the hell attitude had been a steady feature of their entire relationship, and he'd never been able to fully be what she'd needed.
It was his fault it ended, but that hadn't stopped him from feeling heartbroken over it. And when Sarah and Mish had visited she'd dressed his wounds in the only way she really knew how - sex. The sex was always good with Mish, regardless of the situation. It was always what they needed. But it could only ever be sex because their personalities were never meant to blend; she was flighty and wild and needed space - he was steady and serious and enjoyed the comforts of home. And those early years were something he'd never get back, something he still blamed her for, and she knew it. It could never work, as much as they may have tried early on.
She'd been on the cusp of a new relationship, this guy Alvin who she'd met in Philadelphia, but nothing was set in stone yet and she wanted Joel to feel good.
"Nothing else matters right now," she'd whispered in the darkness of their old bedroom, the one he'd shared with her countless times over the past twenty years, "It's just you and me, Joel. It's always been you and me."
"You and me, Mish," he'd repeated, hands firm against her bare back as she slowly began to ride him, "Just us, just you and me."
--
He's still staring at the picture of their younger selves when her hand slowly comes down to touch one of his. He swallows tightly, feels her eyes on him, senses her moving closer.
"Mish," he whispers; an acknowledgement? A warning?
He feels a finger on his chin, tilting his head up to meet her gaze, and then she's kissing him again. It's different than it was at the bar, much less soft, less reserved. She moans into his mouth as the picture falls to the floor, pushes him down so he's laying flat and then throws a leg over his thighs. She situates herself in his lap in the span of about five seconds and he barely has any time to register what's even happening.
But when he does... he's not happy.
"Stop," he mumbles against her mouth, bringing his hands down to grab her hips and carefully pull her off of him. Her brows furrow in confusion as he slides her away and sits back up, kneels and then stands with a groan. His fucking knees.
"Why?" she asks, peering up at him from the floor.
"'Cause... 'cause nothin'," he lies, shaking his head and sitting down on the edge of the bed with a sigh, wincing as his bones crack from being on the floor in such an odd position, "Nothin', I'm just tired."
She follows him up from the floor and onto the bed, seats herself beside him and leans in to mouth gently against his neck, hot and wet, "That's okay, baby. I can do all the work."
"I said no, Mish," he repeats, standing up again and walking away from the bed, "I don't want to."
"Why?" she repeats, adamant now.
He splutters, kicking his feet and not meeting her gaze, "Sarah'll be back soon, there's no time."
"Time has never been an issue before, you know that more than anybody."
"I just don't want you right now, alright?" it comes out much louder and angrier than he'd intended, "Jesus Christ, Mish."
That stops her short, the room plunging into silence as she stares at him from her place on the edge of the bed. Her lips begin to tremble, hands coming to wring together in her lap uncomfortably. She shakes her head slowly, tears welling in her wide eyes.
"I'm sorry," she whispers, voice shaky, "I'm sorry, Joel."
God dammit. He hadn't meant to make her cry.
With a sigh he walks back over to the bed, sitting down beside her again - but not as close this time. She continues to stare forward, still tugging at her hands as tears slowly start to make their way down her cheeks. He feels a familiar pang of pity in his heart, the urge to comfort her like he always has, hold her close and kiss her softly. But he doesn't do that; instead, he places a hand on hers to halt her movements, squeezes them gently.
"You wanna know why it didn't work out with Alvin, Joel?" she asks quietly.
"Why?"
She takes a shaky breath, "He had a wife. A fuckin' wife and three kids. Young kids, still in school, still livin' at home."
"Jesus," he mutters.
"And you wanna know how I found out? Because one night he was sayin' her name when he was fuckin' me; Sharon. Fuckin' Sharon. Repeatin' it over and over without even realizing. And then he had the audacity to act like he didn't know what the hell I was talkin' about." The tears are flowing steadily now, staining her cheeks and dripping down onto their locked hands, "I did some diggin', found out his real name, found his whole other life. I've been a fuckin' mistress for four years and had no clue."
"Michelle..." he breathes.
"Don't call me that," she snaps, turning her face away from him and trying to reign the tears back in but failing miserably, voice coming out in sobs now, "You know how long it's been since someone wanted me, Joel? Actually wanted me? I get that I'm a shitty person. I know I fucked up a lot in my life. I mean, maybe I don't deserve love, 'cause why the hell can't I fuckin' find it? Why does nobody want me?"
"Stop," he says firmly, squeezing her hands tighter, "Don't say shit like that, don't think that way."
"But it's true," she cries, pulling her hands away and bringing them up to her face, "I just needed to be wanted again, Joel. Just for a night, and now you don't even want me."
"That's- that's not true, Mish, come on."
"You literally just said the words two minutes ago," she's suddenly inconsolable, tears streaming down her face as she sobs beside him, "You don't want me, no one wants me."
His arms come up to wrap around her, pull her close to him as she cries harder. He doesn't know what the fuck to do, how to be what she needs without being what she needs. It's an impossible position to be in; how can he just walk out the door and leave her sitting there like this? Leave her so sad, so broken?
"Joel, I need this," she whispers, peering up at him through her wet lashes and leaning her head forward to rest against his shoulder, "Please. I need you."
God. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. What the fuck is he supposed to do? How the fuck can he say no when she's looking at him like that, begging for him?
"Please," she repeats, turning her head and pressing a wet kiss to the skin of his collarbone, "Please, Joel, please," her kisses slowly move up to his neck, warm and safe and familiar. His eyes start to close, lips parting as she keeps going, "It's just us, it's you and me."
Just us, you and me.
"Stay here," he finally breathes, thumbing the skin of her hip reassuringly, "Just - just stay here, okay? I'll be right back."
He finds himself thirty seconds later just standing in his bedroom, unmoving, unsure, thoughts going a mile a minute. He breathes in and out slowly, tries to calm the anxiety threatening to burst through the seams of his very being. What the fuck am I doing? What the actual fuck am I doing right now?
He goes through the motions without really feeling or understanding them. Goes to the bathroom and relieves himself, splashes cold water on his face and stares at his reflection for too long. Heads back to his bedroom and just stands there again, heart pounding. She's waiting for him. Time is passing and he's just standing there.
"Joel?" he hears her call out, voice still thick with tears.
He does not want her to follow him in here. He does not want to have sex in this bed.
With shaky steps he walks over to his nightstand and tugs it open, sees the box of condoms. Stares at them. Stares at them so long that she calls out again.
"Joel? You comin'?"
He feels like he's underwater, ears ringing as his hand trembles on the handle of the drawer, itching to just slam it closed again. What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing?
And then he sees it.
He'd completely forgotten it was there, has been doing his best this entire night to not think about you that he's already managed to forget what happened last night. But he remembers now. He reaches down, hand suddenly completely steady, and pulls the gold chain to entwine around his fingers. It's like he's touching you in a way, feeling you, sensing you - your tears, your sadness, your anger, your insecurities - all wrapped up in this one little cross.
He thumbs it carefully, eyes softening, anxiety ebbing away as the seconds pass. He pictures your lovely face this morning, all sleepy and pretty and perfect in the glow of the early sunrise, the way your hair framed your face, the way you bit your lip shyly when you told him what was on your mind.
He hears footsteps in the hall, knows she's coming, but he doesn't care. Just keeps standing there with his hand curled around your crucifix and warmth filling his chest.
He hears the door open, hears her step inside.
"I can't," he says softly, before she can speak.
Silence. Then -
"What's that?"
"It's..." he closes his fist around the crucifix and then shuts the drawer slowly, still looking down at it. When he finally brings his head up he sees Mish standing near the side of the bed, looking at him with confusion in her eyes.
He swallows tightly, "There's someone else, Mish."
He watches the realization dawn on her face, the confusion fading and acceptance flooding her features. She nods slowly, bringing a hand up to wipe the tears still trickling down her cheeks. "You coulda just said that," she breathes, closing her eyes, "Why didn't you just say?"
He doesn't reply, doesn't know what to say. Or rather, knows what to say but can't say it because then it'll make it real. And he's still so fucking scared for it to be real.
Mish slowly walks forward and sits on the edge of the bed, taking a few steadying breaths to calm herself. "Feel like a fuckin' idiot," she mumbles; she seems okay now, nowhere near as hysterical as she'd been before.
"You're not an idiot," he murmurs. God, he should have just fucking told her. He should have said something.
"So, who is she?" she asks quietly.
"She's..." he swallows again, taking a seat on the other side of the bed, facing the opposite direction, "She's a girl I met a little while ago." A few weeks ago, he mentally corrects. Almost a month. Barely any time at all.
She clocks that. "Girl? Or woman?"
"....Girl."
"How old?"
"Twenty one."
"Jesus," he's not sure what she's thinking when he can't see her face, not sure if she's angry or disgusted or just surprised, "I mean, wow. That's... that's young, Joel."
"I know."
"Never known you to go even ten years lower."
"I know."
Silence again. He's waiting for her to ask the question, the one he knows is coming, the one he's been dreading every since he got that text from Sarah on Wednesday. The one that will force him to admit what he's so desperately been trying to bury.
"So... is it just sex? Or is it..." she trails off for a few seconds, "Is it more?"
There it is.
"I don't know," he murmurs, putting his face in his hands and hunching over the side of the bed with a groan, "I don't know what it is but she's... she's in my head, ya know? She's everywhere, can't stop fuckin' thinkin' about her." The crucifix digs into his cheek, probably making an imprint in his skin, "She's so fuckin' young but, God, Mish, she's so fuckin' sweet. I wanna... I wanna take care of her, ya know? But-" he feels the tears flooding his eyes, tries to swallow his feelings as best he can, "I'm just.. I can't..."
"You're in over your head," she acknowledges softly, "You don't know what you're doin'."
"I don't."
"And that scares the fuck outta you, huh?"
"Pretty much."
They don't say anything else for a few moments, both absorbing the revelation in silence and neither really knowing what else to say about it. This night has gone in a direction that neither were prepared for and he's not sure they'll be able to fix it before Sarah gets back. Which reminds him...
"You'd think Sarah woulda been back by now."
Mish snorts, a welcome sound in the middle of so much tension. He turns around to look at her, finds her doing the exact same thing.
"I told her to give us forty five minutes to an hour, tops," she says with a half smile.
Of course she did.
--
Mish decides to get a cab back to the motel she and Sarah booked. He doesn't argue. He knows it's for the best, knows there will be another, better conversation some time in the future and that despite everything, they'll see each other again.
"She's lucky to have you," she tells him softly at the front door, wrapping her arms around him in a warm embrace. He can hear the sincerity in her words, knows she means it. "You'll take care of her, Joel. Like you take care of everyone."
He just closes his eyes, pulls her in closer and lets the tears fall.
--
Sarah gets back with the food, doesn't question where Mish is; she must have texted her and told her she wouldn't be here. There's no awkwardness or questions, just the same old familiarity and love as Sarah pops the first DVD into the ancient player they've had forever and settles in beside him on the couch. They only half-watch it, continuously getting distracted by each other's dumb commentary and random anecdotes about the past. This is what he wanted tonight to be. Just this.
He tries his best to be present with Sarah, but by the time they're halfway through the second film he can't stop thinking about you. He'd spent so much of today trying to push thoughts of you away and now your face is suddenly all he can see whenever he blinks, your soft giggles and whimpers echoing in his ears. He wonders what you're doing, if you're having a nice time with your friend, if you're being careful like he'd told you to be. You'd said this was your first time going out and he just hopes you're safe. Your crucifix sits reassuringly in the pocket of his jeans, almost like a part of you is still here with him.
He excuses himself to use the bathroom and sends you a quick text:
Hope you're having a good night, babygirl. You deserve to have some fun. I'll see you tomorrow. Be safe.❤️
He feels the urge to press a kiss to his phone and wonders when the hell he got so damn soft. He can practically hear Mish's voice telling him you've always been soft, dummy. She'd be right.
--
They both wake up the next morning still snuggled up on the couch, Sarah on one end and him on the other. He yawns and stretches, groans when he feels a searing pain in his lower back; fuck, he shouldn't have slept on the couch.
"Old man," Sarah mocks quietly with a glint in her eye, and he playfully slaps her leg.
He checks his phone when Sarah heads to the bathroom, hopes maybe you'll have replied to him when you got in last night, but there's nothing there. He frowns but lets logic soothe him, reminding himself that you were probably too tired when you got back and fell asleep right away. He sends you another text, just to be sure:
You get home ok? Let me know x
He'll see you soon for your lesson anyway.
After breakfast he walks Sarah out onto the front step, hand holding hers tightly, almost afraid to let go. She smiles up at him sadly and squeezes back, a silent promise.
"I'll visit again real soon, Dad," she says quietly, "Sooner than last time. I'll bring Jude too, y'all can watch football together."
He smiles with watery eyes, "I'm countin' on it, kiddo."
"You're not lonely, are you?" she suddenly asks, expression one of love and concern, "You got people here, right?"
Your face crosses his mind again, your lovely smile, that little line between your brows, "I'm not lonely," he reassures her softly, "Promise."
He means it.
They hug each other tenderly, basking in one last moment together before they inevitably have to pull away. She walks to her car and turns back with one final wave, tears glistening in her eyes. He waves back and then heads back inside the house quickly before she can see what a mess he is, hands coming up to cover his eyes on the other side of the door as he pulls himself together.
And then, just like that, he's alone again.
--
You don't show up to your lesson.
His first thought is that you're still asleep, probably hungover from last night and desperately in need of some rest. He doesn't blame you, has had more bad hangovers than he can even count. He checks in with you anyway, hoping he'll hear back soon when you wake up.
Another hour passes; he's already cleaned up the kitchen, vacuumed up the popcorn lining the couch and living room floor, rearranged the DVDs, and suddenly the boxes upstairs in the guest room are calling his name. Anything to make the time pass, anything to distract himself from the fact that he still hasn't heard from you.
He texts you again after two hours, after he's finished unpacking two boxes. He just sends some question marks this time. It's around noon now and he keeps trying to convince himself that you're just sleeping, probably still passed out in bed with leftover alcohol buzzing through your veins. The thought makes him wish he was there with you, taking care of you, bringing you glasses of water and cuddling with you until you feel better.
It's mid afternoon when he starts to question whether or not you even got home. He knows you're not home home, that you'd gone to an Airbnb with your friend for the weekend, but he has no idea where it is and if you're even there. What if something happened on the night out? What if you got lost or got too fucked up to figure out how to get back? What if someone you didn't know took you back with them?
He feels sick to his stomach. This time he does the only rational thing he feels he can do - he calls you. He sits on the edge of his bed, toes tapping against the hardwood floor as he waits for you to pick up, but you don't. It goes to voicemail. He hangs up and tries again. Same thing.
He texts you again, but something tells him you won't be reading them any time soon.
--
He leaves the house to clear his head, anxiously tapping on the wheel as he drives around the neighborhood. He passes by your parents' house a few times, eyeing the property and trying his best to see past the ridiculous fence they have blocking off the place. He makes out a police car in the driveway and almost has a panic attack before he remembers that your father is a cop and that's just the vehicle he drives.
He calls and texts you a few more times as the evening comes around. He pours himself some whiskey and tries to calm himself down, breathes in and out, practices the exercises he's had to depend on throughout most of his life. He's always had an anxiety problem, has been on and off medication for it for years. He briefly considers popping an Ativan before realizing that he probably shouldn't mix it with alcohol.
The alcohol messes with his head a bit as darkness falls. He starts to wonder if maybe you did get back safe, just with someone else, someone new. Maybe you met someone, had a connection, took them home and let them be the one to fuck you for the first time. Maybe the reason you're not reaching out is because you're afraid of what he'll say, afraid he'll be angry.
While the thought makes him feel sick and sad, he's even sicker and sadder about not knowing where the fuck you are. He sends you a text to reiterate this, hoping you'll read it and understand:
Just a text is all I need honey. I promise. If you're not feeling this anymore that's okay. Just wanna know you got home safe last night.
He's already unpacked all the boxes, peppered photographs and music memorabilia all over his house as the day came to a close, and now he has nothing else to do but just sit and wait. So he waits. And waits. And waits.
You still don't reply.
He calls you over and over again, wondering what the fuck he's going to do. He can't in good conscious just let this go on, just stop contacting you and let you come back to him on your own. What if something bad really did happen? What if you're really fucked up somewhere? What if someone took advantage of you? He can't just sit idly by and wait.
He lays in bed and stares at the ceiling, feels tears sting his eyes every time he comes up with a new concept as to where you are, what could have happened. All he wants is to have you here with him, warm and soft in his bed, close in all the ways he needs you.
I don't know what to do angel. Can't stop thinking about you. Wish you were here in my arms. Please be safe.
He's scaring himself the longer he thinks about where you could be, knows he has to take action. He decides that if he still hasn't heard from you by tomorrow morning, he'll tell somebody. Whether it be the police or your parents, it doesn't really matter - they're one and the same.
He sends you one last text before the whiskey puts him to sleep:
Please.
--
The doorbell wakes him up. At first he thinks maybe he's hearing things, especially when he tiredly unlocks his phone and sees that it's three in the morning, but then it rings again. And again. Over and over like someone is pressing the button repeatedly. He sits up in bed with a jolt and swings his legs over the side, heart racing as he practically sprints down the stairs.
He turns on the light, squinting with tired and bleary eyes through the frosted glass along the side of the door. He can make out something pink and his eyes widen. He grabs the handle and tugs the door open, only for his body to immediately collide with someone else's, a beautiful girl in a pink dress.
It's you. His beautiful girl. His angel. Standing there almost completely unable to hold yourself upright as you lean against him, arms coming up to wrap around his middle. He holds you close, momentarily frozen in shock.
"Are you okay?"
You're so out of it. He takes you to the couch and you can barely open your eyes, can barely get words out as you flop drunkenly against the cushions. He can't tell if you're drunk or high or both, trying his best to get your attention, desperately asking what you took, where you've been. It's terrifying to see you like this, so completely not yourself, loose and uninhibited in the worst way. You tell him you came here with Tasha and he waves her inside, hoping she can help shed some light on what the fuck happened to you.
Tasha is something else. She stands her ground, doesn't back down when he clearly tries to intimidate her, consistently tries to get past him and reach for you despite his attempts to block her. He's angry, so fucking angry that she could let this happen to you. How long have you been like this? How long has this "night out" been going on? Did it turn into a fucking bender?
"She knows what you've been doing, you asshole." The words mean nothing to him, he has no idea what the fuck she's even talking about. They're clearly both wasted - you more than her - and have somehow wound up at his house at three in the morning by some miraculous volition. He's not letting you leave with her, that's for sure.
Then you say the same thing to him and he's beyond confused, waiting to be let in on whatever sick fucking joke is being played on him right now. What do they think he's been doing? What do they think they know? What have their intoxicated brains convinced themselves of?
And then the other shoe drops.
"We saw you kiss someone else."
That feeling he'd had yesterday - that sensation of being underwater - returns in full force. He stares at you; not Tasha, you. Because as soon as she says it your eyes tear away from him to stare at the floor, lips trembling in sadness, hands shaking beneath Tasha's arms. He can see it in your expression, in your body language despite the alcohol - you're fucking heartbroken. You can't even look at him.
He tries to explain but the words aren't coming out right; he's sure he sounds absolutely pathetic as he just stands there in the middle of the living room, stumbling over his words like the absolute fool he is. You still don't look at him. You don't say anything, and it kills him.
That's when he realizes that Tasha is not the one in the wrong here. It's him. He's the one who deserves to be shouted at, intimidated, made to feel small. He's the one who fucked up. It's him.
And then - if the situation hadn't already been bad enough - Tasha informs him that you'd seen Sarah leaving this morning. His eyes go wide, heart racing like a steam engine in his chest as he shakes his head and wonders how the fuck this could be happening right now. The past few days he's been so unsure about letting you know the real him, didn't know if he'd ever be able to tell you - and now he has no choice. No choice but to drop a bomb on you in this sad and drunken state, otherwise leave you believing that he's been doing god knows what with god knows who.
"That was my daughter."
You register the words and finally look at him, and his heart swells three sizes in his chest when your gazes meet. Just for a moment you don't look as sad, don't look as broken. You peer into his eyes and he thinks for a moment that maybe you see him, really see him, for the first time. It's both terrifying and incredible and he doesn't know how he manages to get the words out, but he does.
He knows now what he has to do.
He has to tell you. He has to tell you everything.
Tasha apologizes and helps you back out to the cab. He watches her place you carefully inside, watches as you turn your head to look out the back window, still peering at him with that look on your face that he can't really explain. He stands and waits until you've disappeared down the street before going back inside, where he immediately collapses onto the couch, exhausted.
He reaches inside his pocket and tugs out your crucifix, brings it up to his neck with trembling hands and manages to latch it around his neck. He palms the cross, presses it into the bare skin at his collarbone.
She's safe, he thinks to himself, she's safe and that's all that matters.
--
In the morning, as soon as he wakes up, he sends you a text:
I'm so sorry. Words can't even describe how fucking ashamed and embarrassed I am. I can't imagine how horrible that must have been for you. I understand if you don't want to see me anymore, but I want to tell you everything, if you'll let me. I hope you're feeling okay today, angel. Drink lots of water, stay with Tasha. Text me whenever you're ready.
He wants to cry, thinking about how much he hurt you. He wouldn't blame you for wanting this to just be over now, to move on and pretend like you never even met him that day on his front step. He feels so fucking ashamed of himself, angry for not telling Mish the truth from the beginning, horrified that you'd seen him in a moment of weakness like that, a moment of cowardice.
The crucifix stays on his neck throughout his shower and breakfast. He's never been one to wear jewelry, and god knows he's never been one to wear jewelry with religious imagery, but somehow it calms him to have it on, soothes him. His anxiety feels better despite the circumstances, and he's grateful.
His phone buzzes around eleven and the force at which he picks it up almost sends it flying across the room. His brow furrows when he sees a text from an unknown number:
hey it's tasha. sorry about last night. that was a shitshow. she's awake and feeling better, just wanted you to know.
She didn't have to do that and he knows it.
Thank you. I'm glad she has you. I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you, I was just really worried about her.
that's ok. i know you're a good guy. she knows it too.
Do you, though? Do you really still think of him as being someone you can trust, someone you can talk to? Someone you can give yourself to completely?
i'm gonna send you the address of the airbnb. i think you should come talk to her.
The address follows and he puts it into his maps app; it's not too far, he can make it there in about forty minutes.
Thank you so much Tasha
text when ur here, i'll let you in.
--
He sits in his truck for a lot longer than he needs to after pulling up to the house. He knows he has to tell you everything now, that you're going to want answers and that he'll give them to you. But he's made a discovery in the past twelve hours that has his head reeling:
He wants to tell you. He wants you to know all about him. Suddenly, he doesn't mind that he's old and washed up and pathetic. He wants you to know that, wants you to see the real him, who he really is. The unpretty, uncharming reality of his mediocre life. He isn't sure that you'll want it, that you'll want him, but what he's sure of is that he's tired of pretending.
What Mish had said on Friday night - "You know how long it's been since someone wanted me, Joel? Actually wanted me?" - it had resonated with him in a way he hadn't been expecting. He knows that feeling, has been feeling it for years without actually saying it aloud because admitting it was too painful, too scary.
He's been putting on a front for his entire life. First, to his parents, then to Mish, then Sarah, then the select few women who'd come in and out of his life, then Tess, and now you. And he's tired. He's so fucking tired of pretending to be someone else. For the first time in a long time, he actually wants to be him.
I'm here.
Tasha opens the door to let him inside. The house is pretty cozy, probably one of the more inexpensive ones you both could find. He notes the leftover snacks littering the table and couch, the empty wine glasses. He hopes you had fun here, at least for a little while. Before he fucking ruined it.
"She's asleep," Tasha says, closing the door behind him and ushering him inside, "I wanna talk to you for a sec, before you go in."
He nods and she gestures toward the couch for him to sit. He takes his place on the edge, knees together as he looks up at her and waits for her to speak.
"I'm her best friend," she says firmly, hands on her hips - she means business, "I've known her for three years now and I know her better than anyone."
He nods slowly.
"She's really coming into herself right now," Tasha continues, "She's making big discoveries, figuring out who she is and what she wants. You know that."
"I do."
"And... well, we both know that what she wants most is you."
He swallows then, feels his heart begin to pound, clenching his fists at his knees.
"This thing with your ex, is it over?"
"Yes," he says immediately, "She'll always be my daughter's mother, she'll always be my friend, but that part of our relationship is over."
"And you mean that?"
"I mean it."
She assesses him and slowly nods, then curls her finger and urges him to stand back up. He does, suddenly towering over her in the small living room.
"First door on the left," she tells him, then walks to the front door, "I'll give you some space."
She's gone before he has the chance to thank her.
He slowly makes his way down the hallway, step by step. He reaches the door, heart pounding in his chest as he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and lets the promises he made to himself flood through his mind. His past, his present, and his future... the future he sees with you.
He touches his pocket, feels for your crucifix.
I can do this, he thinks to himself. For her, I can do this.
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🎃 Good enough to Eat
Licking CW: bound reader, abduction, body worship (receiving), teasing, drugging, dub-con, body image issues
The reflection in the mirror glared at their body, turning in circles to fully appreciate how bad they looked in this outfit. It was such a stereotypical thing to do that (Reader) felt ashamed, but that didn't stop them, not when their skin was squishing out over the top of their jeans. Their best friend was waiting in the living room for them to hurry up, but every shirt they put on laid weird on their body, even their favorite band tee. It was just going to be one of those days.
(Reader) left the bathroom mopey, struggling to look happy. Their attempt failed completely when Vince pulled out his phone to take a picture of them.
"Not today V."
"What? Why?! We never get to hang out anymore, and I want some pictures of us." The man whined, jokingly pouting to hide his real disappointment.
"I'm just..." (Reader) tugged on their shirt subconsciously, "not feeling it."
Vince's eyes narrowed, his joking demeanor fading into an empty glare (Reader) had never seen before, worrying them. "I can't do this. I wanted to do this the right way, but you're pissing me off."
Before (Reader) could question their friend he shoved his fingers into their mouth, pressing a bitter tasting pill into their throat and forcing it down. They tried to jump back, but Vince held (Reader's) head, clasping their mouth shut until they swallowed and holding them still until it kicked in. First their muscles grew heavy, then (Reader) couldn't hold their eyes open, collapsing into Vince's arms.
(Reader) woke up hours later, completely naked and hands chained to the ceiling above them, arms twisted in an angle where they couldn't pull up and dangling just high enough for their toes to touch the floor. In the dark of the cellar, Vince stood in front of (Reader) with his arms crossed, a disappointed look on his handsome face.
"Vince? Where am I...?"
"Mmm.. my house." Vince was uncharacteristically upset, his voice cold and eyes weary with frustration.
"Why-?"
"You know, I had this whole date planned out for us. I was finally going to confess to you." He looked down, rubbing his hands together. "But you're so damn insecure, I know if I told you today that I've been in love with you for the past seven years you wouldn't have believed me."
A strange ache stabbed into (Reader's) heart; a conflicting mixture of his congestion causing it to skip a beat and pain from their anxiety. He was right, they didn't deserve his love. Ignoring the fact that he had just kidnapped them, Vince was the most attractive man (Reader) had ever seen off the big screen.
"Vince, I-"
"So, before I officially confess to you, I need you feeling better about yourself, so you accept me." Vince walked over, a sick smile creeping over his features. "You are so fucking beautiful. I've never met anyone as sexy as you."
"Vince, I'm sorry... If you let me go we can pretend like this never happened.."
He cocked his head. "Why would I want to do that? I finally have you all to myself, and you want me to pretend like I've never had the privilege to see you like this?"
(Reader) sniffled, ashamed, both by how exposed they were and by his sweet talking. "Please stop-"
"You don't believe me.. That really hurts my feelings, (Reader). It was bad enough hearing you criticize the person I love all the goddamn time, but even now you're looking at me like I'm a liar." He pressed his nose against their cheek, inhaling their scent. "Which is so unfair, when you look good enough to eat."
His sharp canines bit into (Reader's) neck as his rough hands caressed their body, rubbing their chest and the spot between their shoulder blades. (Reader) cried out, both in surprise and from pain, before squirming in discomfort as he ran his tongue over his teeth marks.
Vince seemed to enjoy the reaction he got from licking (Reader's) neck, because he moved down, chasing the shivers he was sending down their body. His calloused palms gripped (Reader's) flesh, digging his fingers into their soft body selfishly. His hot muscle left wet trails down (Reader's) goosebumps, greedily tasting their body.
He left hickies from his sucking and biting, bruising their nipples from enthusiasm. Every time he latched on it was hard enough to draw blood, but was quick to soothe the stinging with kisses, cleaning the red droplets with his tongue. Vince ignored (Reader's) pleas and whines, enraptured by the taste he had dreamt of for so long.
"You are so beautiful.." He groaned dreamily, pawing at himself through his pants as he planted butterfly kisses down to (Reader's) hip, turned on by their shudders under his feather soft touches. Sliding into his knees, Vince gazed up at (Reader) with lust. "Please say that you believe me now."
"Vince.." (Reader) was torn between their embarrassment and how good they felt.
His lips attached to their sensitive skin right next to their groin, tickling them. The area was so sensitive to the touch that they arched their spine to get their pelvis away from the teasing kisses, but lost their footing, rocking back into Vince's face.
The man continued licking and kissing everywhere but (Reader's) genitalia, encouraged by their responsiveness. He wouldn't gift them release, not until they felt have much he craved their body.
"Do you believe me now?" His heavy panting against their skin was almost as unbearable as his spider light brushing.
Desperate to be let down, (Reader) whined "Yes! I believe you.."
"Does that mean you'll let me be your man?" Another kiss, closer towards their painful arousal. (Reader's) thighs quivered and butterflies erupted in their belly.
"Yes!"
"Because you know that I love you?" The fluid leaking down (Reader's) leg was licked off hungrily.
"God, yes!"
"And you love me too?"
"Yes! I love you, I love you too, Vince!"
As soon as he got his confirmation, (Reader's) legs were draped over his shoulders.
(Reader's) toes curled as Vince's tongue swirled around their most delicate parts, drinking in their essence. His mouth devoured (Reader), crushing his face with their pelvis, pulling them harder into his jaw, hands on their buttocks pushing them in.
"Vince, I'm gonna cum.." (Reader) pathetically whimpered, feeling his tongue fuck them faster.
A wave a shame followed their climax, insecure suddenly over their orgasm. But that brief thought immediately dissipated as Vince didn't stop, taking all of their juices and continuing his assault on their sensitive nerves, pushing them past the point of pleasure. Tears poured from (Reader's) eyes as they tried to wiggle out of his iron grip.
But Vince continued until he came, pulling away to breathe as he moaned out, staining his jeans. His face returned to the kind looking Vince (Reader) knew and adored, smiling up at (Reader) sweetly as though he hadn't just abducted and assaulted (Reader).
"Thank you for accepting my feelings, gorgeous."
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kiss your best friend | heartslabyul
kiss your best friend and see how they react!
parts. one, two, three, four, five, six, seven
characters. riddle, trey, cater, ace, deuce.
includes. gn reader who can be seen as either yuu or another alternative universe.
cw. kissing? mutual pining, crack.
note. those tiktoks where the bsf is straight outta wattpad /j reminder that the event poll will be closed on sunday ust+8
riddle rosehearts
expectedly turns very red.
just stares at you in the most flabbergasted way possible, looks at your lips then snaps his gaze back to your face again and again.
probably is too stunned to speak but when he swallows the bile in his throat, "what in the world are you doing?!" seriously though. he has so many questions.. why, when, what that he wants you so answer ASAP.
in complete denial that you admit to wanting to do it then apologizing if it took him by suprise.
sensing that you feel dejected by his negative reaction he's quick to assure you, in a mixture of shyness and shame he avoids your gaze. "you can't just go around kissing other people so suddenly! urgh.. atleast let me take you to dinner first.."
trey clover
blinks but looks pleased nonetheless.
well he certainly didn't expect that. in the years you've been side by side he had his suspicions that you felt the same but never acted on it.
spares you this handsome, killer smile as he leans in again. trey's quick to adjust to the indirect confession you just did so since you made the first move he supposes its his turn next.
he does applaud you for your bravery. trey doesn't know if he'd ever have the courage to do so if you didn't. "you're quite bold." he chuckles, thoroughly enjoying the tough exterior you put up despite you probably flustered inside.
"mind if I get another taste?" sir this isn't you tasting out bakery treats—
cater diamond
consider him shocked for once!
legit paused and recoiled back from your kiss, peck(?), whatever suited you best but you can't blame him! he thought it was like the "oh my god they were roommates thing"
wait a minute it feels like be just got slapped by reality. did you actually just kiss him?!
probably remembering he's still gaping at you he flashes you a rare, seemingly genuine smile. "sooo... what are we now?"
"friends with benefits?" you joke.
"oh. not what I had in mind but that's alright with me!"
"cater i was joking."
ace trapolla
visible disgust.
even goes as far as to wipe off the kiss wherever you placed your lips on it.
stares at you with a feigned weirded out look but no matter how far 'faking it till' he makes it goes' he's ultimately unable to hide the red ears from you.
if you try to point it out he'll only respond with vigorous shakes and something along the lines of feeling too good for yourself.
^ in serious denial but still wants more.
"that was disgusting.. I'm gonna be sick." ace blanches then fakes a hurl. "—do it again,"
deuce spade
shocked & flustered^tm (I'm too lazy to put the symbol bye)
slowly backs away and grips his mouth (kinda like tamaki at that once scene LOL) while slowly turning pink. not red because red is riddle's thing and no one can do riddle's thing.
is too shy and his mind is going a thousand million miles an hour <- exaggerated cause it's deuce.
the definition of "WTH OMG AKVSJABAJS" + inner crisis mode activated, I knew he was an idia kinnie somewhere deep there
pledges to you that he will be the man in the relationship, the pants, the— insert weird analogies.
loves u now and idk why he's going so fast. would probably not marry anyone else because boy is DEDICATED now.
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I thought we were over
For my dearest twin, @h3apm3ch4n151m :)
Warning(s): implied murder, yandere/stalker ex reader!! That's right, it's not a yandere character this time, it's you.
Also, Floyd is a teensy bit OOC for this, but there is a reason for it, so please bear with me.
...three years, four months, seven days, two hours, thirty minutes, five seconds ago.
That's when Floyd broke up with you.
You don't know why. You can't possibly understand why. You were perfect for him, you still are!
Let's count the reasons you're perfect for him, shall we?
You love him (obviously!!)
You're able to tolerate his... behaviors.
You help him appear less threatening.
You helped him get his grades to be more consistent.
You helped him with those pesky mood swings.
You love him (again)
You love him (one more time, just to emphasize)
You love him.
You love him, and yet... he abandoned you.
He said you weren't worth his time anymore. He said you were... bad for him.
And just like that, after the two of you being together for so long... he just broke up with you.
...three years, four months, seven days, two hours, thirty-one minutes, ten seconds ago.
You've been keeping track of him ever since.
You just want to make sure he's doing alright, that's all, nothing more!
Recently... he's been... seeing someone.
It makes you sick to even think of him being with someone other than you... especially when they're nowhere near as perfect for him as you were.
They'll just end up hurting him in the end.
Unlike you, his perfect partner.
...the audacity of him. Saying you're "bad for him", what does that even mean? All you ever did was help him and love him to the FULLEST extent. You were around him all the time, you really got to know him and his issues... and you helped him.
How did you help him? That's easy. You simply told him not to speak without your permission- unless of course he was speaking to you... and he listened like the good little boy he is... because he loves you. Even if he's with someone else now, you know deep down he still loves you... and he always will, because you're perfect for him.
You're the perfect match for him and you always will be. Hell, you even chose to never return to your home, because you loved him just that much. Doesn't that show how eternally devoted you are to him? How much you love him?
Why can't he see that?
...
No matter.
He will, soon.
He'll realize soon, that the two of you are meant to be together, forever and always.
All you need to do is pull a few little strings... a few things to set him off like always... and just like that, his new partner will see the ugly side of him. Yelling and fighting... screaming and crying... a storm of emotions nobody in their right mind would want to stay with... nobody except you, of course, because you taught him how to behave himself.
Wait... why haven't they broken up yet...?
That person he's with, did they not fully comprehend what was happening? Do they think that's okay?
Ugh. Regardless of why this new partner of his isn't getting themselves the hell out of that relationship they aren't supposed to be in, the point still stands that you must now take desperate measures. It's the only option!
And that's why you are where you are right now... standing at his back door, covered in blood.
"Shrimpy-?! What are you doing here, why are you covered in blood-?!" He's uncharacteristically freaked out... ah, adorable as always.
"Take me back. You know we're perfect for each other." You tell him the truth. You're the only person good enough for him.
"We broke up three years ago-"
"Three years, four months, nine days, five hours, seven minutes, two seconds ago."
"...creep." He looks... disgusted. "You still haven't told me why you're covered in blood."
"I got rid of what was in the way, that's all."
He seems to get the hint.
"Get the hell off my property and never show your face to me again, Shrimpy."
"You're still calling me that nickname... doesn't that mean, in some way, you still love me-?"
"No, I do that for everyone. It means nothing, and you're delusional to think it ever did."
"But I know there's another name you used to call me, remember? The one I taught you about... the special nickname, just for me..." You laugh to yourself. "I heard you still call me that."
"I-!" He seems a bit freaked out. "That... that doesn't mean anything..." He's always so careful around you, because he knows what you'll do if he isn't... it's cute how scared he is of you, a human.
"Admit it: you still love me, like how I still love you."
"No, I'm not goi-"
"Say it now or you know what will happen."
"...okay... fine... maybe..."
"No, I want to hear you say the words exactly."
He hesitates for a moment.
"...I... still love you, Shrimpy."
"And?"
"And... I'll take you back, and we can... be together... forever."
"That's just what I wanted to hear. Good eel."
And just like that, your life returned to the perfect way it was before...
And Floyd will never slip through your grasp again.
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This might be a weird request but can you do one where you're dating the Mercenaries and you figure out your pregnant so you tell them?
TF2 mercs with a pregnant s/o
afab reader | this req wasn't weird at all! thank you op, and i apologize for it taking so long to write! <3
drabbles under the cut :P
Scout:
- being the youngest of 8, he wasn't exactly aware of pregnancy signs first hand, though he had heard things from his ma and brothers
- so when he noticed you had been sicker, sleeping longer, and having food aversions to things you would otherwise love, he had slowly put pieces of the puzzle together
- doesn't wanna bring it up with you, he doesn't want to alarm you, and slyly implies getting a pregnancy test after he sees you vomiting for the 3rd morning that week
- when he finds out, he is ecstatic!!! <33333
- would LOVE it if his kids were into baseball, definitely the playing catch in the yard kid of dad
- has always been big on having a family, but can't help but also feel incredibly nervous???
- his dad was never there, would he even be a good dad? spoiler alert, he is an amazing dad
Soldier:
- completely oblivious to the idea that you could be pregnant, and instead sends you to the infirmary thinking you had just eaten some bad bread
- to his complete and utter shock, you came out pregnant
- "honey, no, i was already pregnant..." there's no use, he doesn't care who made you pregnant, he was going to be a dad!
- is already picturing your white picket fence american life together with 2.5 kids and a dog
- doesn't believe in maternity leave, will try to get you onto the battlefield despite the fact that you are seven months pregnant and can barely walk (medic has to explain why you cannot, soldier is outraged)
- the kind of guy who really wants a son but is blessed with a daughter instead and ends up having more in common with her
- "CAN WE HAVE ANOTHER ONE?" he is so sweet like actually <333
Demoman:
- demo is always sick, it comes with the alcoholism
- but when you're sick? he is worried, like, extremely worried
- at first he thinks it's the flu, maybe gastro? anything but what all the signs point to, please don't be pregnancy
- when you show him the positive tests, he holds you and cries
- he is so terrified at the idea of being a father, he's an alcoholic, he's never had to take care of anything in his life, not even himself
- god, he couldn't bare having to explain the egregious duty of abandoning their child until they come of age, like his parents had done to him, and theirs to them
- but, he also really wanted a family with you
- he saw how happy this baby would make you, how excited you were to have one with him
- when he sees his baby for the first time, he knows that he made the right choice
Heavy:
- having three younger sisters, he knew what pregnancy was like
- and when his father was executed, he knew he had to protect those sisters as if they were his own children
- he absolutely loves the idea of having a small family with you, a peaceful life without bloodshed
- so when you come to him, teary eyed, holding what looked like a pregnancy test, he didn't hesitate to embrace you in the most suffocating, loving hug he could muster
- "У нас будет ребенок!" he is so incredibly happy
- he treats you like royalty, spoils you so hard (as if he didn't already)
- his mother and sisters knit you baby clothes!!!! <33333
- will not let anyone near you, he absolutely refuses any harm to you or your baby, if you get sick he ails your illness, if you are hurt he treats your wounds
- you are the most precious thing to him, and now so is your baby
Engineer:
- it wouldn't come as a surprise to him at all, as you had likely discussed having a baby and trying for one multiple times beforehand
- that doesn't stop him from bawling his eyes out anyway
- you hold each other for hours, happily crying and giggling about how your future together will look
- designs all the baby furniture with added features to make your life easier
- feeding bowls that prevent food spillage, chairs that are completely non slip, a baby cradle with an inbuilt monitor and mobile with little wooden tools and machinery
- the most proactive father any child could ever want in their lives, he will drop everything to support you and this baby
- invests in his kid's hobbies, shows up to every baseball game, every recital, every play
Medic:
- medic's never really thought about having kids before
- he could honestly live without ever having them
- he's giving you a physical, when he notices some of the telltale physical pregnancy signs and decides to give you a test
- oh fuck! you were pregnant!
- immediate panic mode, he has no idea how to be a father! he offers multiple options for you to undergo surgery to remove it
- if you are insistent on having this baby, he decides that he has no choice but to be a dad
- at first he ignores this kid, i mean, he is a busy man after all and he never wanted this child in the first place
- but this kid follows him EVERYWHERE, and he just cant help but adore the little guy
- "ah, it was inevitable really, zhe little scamp just vouldn't leave me alone!" "you know you're allowed to love our kid, right?"
Sniper:
- has never wanted kids, it wasn't you, really, he just didn't find them practical
- i mean, he lives in a van?? where would you even fit a kid? and surely it wouldn't be healthy to raise one in that sort of environment
- he sort of supposes that seeing you holding your baby would be cute, and he wouldn't mind having a little family someday
- when you break the news to him, you look visually nervous
- shaking, eyes wet and red, probably from crying before you even told him, it breaks his heart seeing you this way
- when you finally ask what you should do, despite all common sense, he tells you that he wants to keep the baby
- your reaction was all worth it to him
- you immediately plan to upsize, looking for a small house together and moving in shortly before the baby is born
- he fully comes around to the idea of a child after meeting his own
Spy:
- the thought of having a kid turns him off, he is far too emotionally unavailable as it is
- you know about scout, and you know the immense guilt and pain spy felt after abandoning him
- so when you tell him that you're pregnant, he calmly asks you what you are going to do
- he won't talk you out of having the baby, but he will not be active in his child's life whatsoever
- you bet that he will, and so, he takes you up on that bet
- he has no intent on leaving you despite not wanting this kid, if anything the idea of proving you wrong amuses him more
- then, when you aren't around, he spends time with the kid, clothes it, feeds it, plays with it
- and when you come home and see them together, it's safe to say he had lost the bet
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Yo! I really love your apocalypse yuu writings I keep coming back to see if it has updated.
I read the Lilia finds out part and when I read the "Epel gave Yuu an apple and he didn't know what it was" it got me thinking about it all night.
How would the first years react to Yuu not eating anything at all(probably other than bread) because he doesn't know what those foods are?
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FEM ALIGNED DNI
Yuus pronouns are he/him, although they're mentioned briefly
This is barely proofread so please excuse the grammar mistakes.
Featuring: Epel, Ace, Duece, Jack, and sebek (there is implied lilia at the very end but it is literally one sentence)
Warnings: Talks of starvation, Yuu's illness, and survivers guilt, so skip this if you're uncomfortable with any of that.
Also I know it's been over a month. I have no excuse. I just didn't feel like it. But I have been teaching myself how to draw so I can be a bigger simp to Jamil so that's fun ig.
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Damn bro, you really don't know shit huh?
Epel was excited, to say the least.
I mean, could you really blame him? It's not everyday that you get a big ol' crate full of the apples that you were raised with.
By all means, epel should've been long sick of eating apples. Having them almost everyday for majority of his life, dried and dehydrated in the winter, and fresh and juicy in the spring and summer.
But no, no epel felmeir loves those apples. Every single one he ate seemed to effortlessly send him back to the simpler times of his childhood. Where he would send hours upon hours avoiding his siblings and playing games with his cousins in the orchards and taking naps in the sun while he waited for his meemaws infamous apple pies to finish baking. And meemaw would almost always let him have the first slice! Of the ones she wasn't going to sell at least.
He really missed her...
He'd have to ask her to bake him another one this winter.
But just getting to read the letter she had wrote, along with his parents and one of the towns kids that always followed him around like a lost baby duck, put a smile on his face.
Yeah. He'd get to see them soon, and once he graduates, he can get them more money, and be strong enough to protect them if it ever came to that.
Unfortunately, as great as his parents apples were, they couldn't fight the natural forces of time.
Dear sevens- they'd sent him nearly three dozen apples! All high quality too... it shouldn't effect sales too much. The orchards were big, and his parents would rather give up that expensive family heir loom necklace that his mother always wore than start selling spoiled apples.
But still, epel couldn't possibly eat thirty-six apples before they all started to rot. Plus, he didn't know how long they took to ship to the isle of sages, so that cut the time frame even shorter.
.....Does Jack like apples?
Should he even be considering giving Jack an apple to begin with? Their relationship was pretty vague. We're they actually friends or just study buddies?
Study buddies can give eachother gifts too right? And plus, it's food, not a 24 carrot gold ring or something crazy like that.
It should be fine. Maybe he'll give one to ace too. They were friends. Surely.
.
.
.
Ace trappola would say he was a good friend. I mean, he wasn't the best by any means, but he was decent.
Yeah, he could be kind of a dick. But who isn't at this point, honestly, even deuce, even cater had their moments.
But he was still someone the people in his life could go to for things, usually physically, tangible this like food or an extra ball or something, but he wasn't completely useless when it came to emotions either.
You could come to him if something was bothering you. He probably won't help you actually fix it but he can at least make you laugh.
So why didn't you want to laugh?
You had taken your mask off a few weeks ago. And like a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped on him he realized it was the first time he ever saw you eat any food here at all.
Were you eating at all before then? What about water?
Thank the seven you were only here for around a week. But surely, you were dehydrated.
(You were definitely dehydrated. Deuce gave you a water bottle and you chugged it like it was your only chance at life. Which, to be fair, it probably was your only chance at life.)
Ace didn't know what your life was like before.
Ace didn't want to know either.
He didn't do well with heavy topics, always changing the subject when one came up unless he was personally involved in some way.
Other people life didn't concern him, and that was something he lived by.
...but still.
This was going a bit too far, don't you think?
Ace shot a look to deuce, clear concern instead of the regular teasing, which caught his roomates attention faster than he thought it would.
Ok. So deuce had noticed too.
Just goes to show how obvious it was that something is very wrong here.
Now, because ace had never asked, and he probably never will, he didn't know what your relationship with food was like before you came here. But. It couldn't have been this right?
A person couldn't only survive on some bread and room temperature water, right?
You sat across from him at your guy's unofficial table in the cafeteria, drinking the water at a moderate pace, as you didn't want to deal with another scolding from a certain housewarden, doing your best to keep a careful eye on grim as he went to go get his food from the lunch line.
And thank the seven for that, really. If grim turned back and saw that you weren't watching him for even a second, who knows that kind of ruckus would result?
But all that aside, you were still scarily underweight. Seriously perfect, how were you even alive?
Ace looked at deuce again. Deuce looked back.
He sighed.
Ace never, ever thought he would do something like this.
But for sevens sake, you were one of his best friends. And Ace will be damned if he just let you do this to yourself.
So with a deep breathe, he looked at you, and then turned back to what he was pretty sure was an ex-gang member, and nodded.
And for once, deuce understood.
They had to do something.
.
.
.
You reminded Deuce Spade of that stray cat that his mother would always feed when he was a child.
Underweight, scared, scarred, and confused.
Always having an air if caution and paranoia, ready to react, as if anything could just jump out and grab you at any time.
But you weren't a cat, were you?
No. You were a person. Someone his age, maybe younger, that had obviously seen horrors he couldn't even understand. Which just made this whole situation even sadder.
Because if you lived like this, then what the hell was stopping him? What about his mother? What was stopping her from having the same fate?
Duece ignored the memories of his mother giving him food and taking none for herself, saying she wasn't hungry.
But he couldn't quite ignore them, nor could he ignore the pit in his stomach whenever he looked at you.
...Listen perfect, he doesn't know what you went through to be like this, but he knows damn well this isn't normal.
It can't be normal. Hiding this much food underneath your floorboards couldn't ever be normal.
The two of you were just hanging out in your room in Ramshakle. Grim was in the lounge, he was sure, and you had stared off into space before asking the date.
When he told you, you had a look of slight panic as you ripped the rug off from its place on the floor, and started pulling apart the boards.
And what for?
The reveal of a large stash of food, mostly non-perishables, but a few snacks here and there too.
Snacks that were about to expire, apparently.
You turned to look back at him, a sheepish look on your face, and what looked like a bag if chips in your hand.
Deuce didn't know what face he was making.
He just knew it wasn't one he'd want you to see
.
.
.
If someone were to ask Jack howl if he was your friend. He wouldn't know to to say.
I mean yeah, you helped save his entire dorms ass way back when, yeah, you and him absolutely went throught it during azuls little "episode", and yeah, the two of you had plenty of mutual friends.
But we're the two of you friends?
Jack wasn't sure.
Because by all accounts, you should be.
It didn't change the fact that you weren't. Not really. Not by his definition and not by yours.
So what were you?
Well, you weren't friends. That was already established. And you were too close to be acquaintances (he didn't think acquaintance fell asleep on each other in the botanical gardens, only to wake up five minutes till curfew and just haul ass back to their respective dorms with smiles on their faces), so...what did that leave?
Well... I guess it left this.
"Eat it"
"....huh?"
Jack didn't know you that well. But that didn't mean he couldn't see..this happening. And it definitely didn't mean he didn't care.
So here he was. Holding a pastrami sandwich about an inch away from your face, silently begging you to just shut up and eat it.
Come on perfect, he bought this with his own money. Just humor him, please.
You eyed the sandwich like it was the most untrustworthy thing you'd ever seen. Jack's not going to lie, it kind of hurt.
But it wouldn't matter if you ate it, so he sucked it up.
...at least he would if you'd actually take the fucking sandwich.
Seriously, it was starting to tick him off.
Jack briefly considered just varying off and giving the sandwich to ruggie or something, or just eating it himself. He wasn't the biggest fan of pastrami but who knows, maybe the school made it better.
Honestly, he probably would have done just that if the image if you leaning against the wall looking ready to pass out from, what he knew, was malnutrition.
The event itself actually happened around two weeks ago, give or take. Jack thinks the only real reason he remembers it so well is because, well, it was the moment.
The defining moment, the moment where it just clicked that something was very wrong here.
He already knew that of course, I mean, look at you.
But as it turns out, watching someone actively starve to death in front of you will keep you up at night.
His mind turned to ruggie for a split second, before forcibly shoving that thought down where all the other thoughts he didn't want to think about were.
Like that time when he was a kid with a crush on Vil....yeah, Jack's happy he got o er that one to say the least. Nothing against Vil, he's a great friend and all (they were friends right?), but them in a relationship? Yeah. No. Not happening. No thankyou.
...yeah.
Jack mentally slapped hi.self and proceeded to shove his weird thoughts down yet again and refocus on getting his not-quite-friend to eat.
You were leaning back a lot farther than you were a second ago, if you did that anymore you'd probably just end up on the ground.
...jack sighed. This was going to take a while wasn't it?
By the end of the lunch period, you had come to a compromise, jack you slip the sandwich with you and take the other half for himself.
You ended up splitting your half with grim, who reluctantly took it. You had actually eaten yours too!...after you took the while thing apart and inspected and obsessed over it like how he'd seen Rook do to his housewardens that one time!
But still, it was something.
It was a start. And that's really all he could ask for at this point.
.
.
.
Sebek didn't notice anything about you at first. And he didn't particularly care much either. He was a guard for sevens sake! He had a deep responsibility!
He had a crown prince, that he oh so admired, to protect! Not to mention silver, who he had to wake up at every given turn, and not to mention Lilia, who had recently been going harder on their training sessions.
So to waste his time with a human? With a weak little human that didn't even come close to his current list if priorities?
That's time he simply did not have!
...So why was he here?
He was supposed to be looking for his charge. His charge, who always seemed to wind up around the old, abandoned Ramshakle building and just dissappear in the nick of time.
It had been happening more and more lately, especially since that new perfect moved in.
He would be lying if he said he cared too much about him. Again, he didn't have time to be curious about some strange human boy with some strange past.
But still, he couldn't quite contain the way he jumped back when he'd first seen them.
Whoever he was, he looked so...sick.
...he didn't have time for this.
Turning back on his heel, he refocused his mind on finding his lord again, and quickl- wait- silver. Oh great sevens. Silver wake up!
Ok. Sebek really didn't have time for this.
...and yet.
Here he was, standing next to you, arms out ready to catch you at a moments notice if you really were going to collapse like he thought you were.
He hadn't been this close to you before.
And now he could see that you weren't just sick.
Great seven, you looked like you were dying...
Sebek zigbolt had always known humans were weak, fragile creatures. Never able to even light a candle next to faeries. Never able to light a candle next to him, and certainly not his young master.
But this was just pushing it.
Sebek was stronger than his human counterparts. He would long outlive them. He thought of silver for the shortest second and then quickly pushed that thought to the side. This was not the time. Buteven with those facts, sebek still knew that humans weren't made of fine glass. Even if the people in his homeland liked to act like it, Sebek still knew that humanity wasn't completely hopeless.
One strong gust of wind wouldn't knock them over.
One missed meal wasn't enough to do detrimental damage to their health.
Pulling one all nighter would barely put a dent in their day to day lives, aside from the obvious fatigue and.
But with you?
With you? Alwats looking like you could kneel over and die then and there on the classroom floor?
...
Sebek want so sure anymore.
.
.
.
Epel had eaten more apples than any normal person should ever be able to eat.
Sevens help him, his stomach.
Despite the waves of pain that shit through him every now and then, epel wasn't mad.
Yeah, maybe eating a whole eight apples in the span of two hours wasn't his smartest idea, but the sweet nostalgia that seemed to wash over him and warm his very soul? Yeah no, it was worth it.
So no. Epel felmeir wasn't mad.
And laying in a bed that was much too soft for his taste, a direct contrast from the slightly itchy blankets and the hard mattresses back home, epel glance over to the almost empty crate of apples that were sitting just under his work desk.
...As much as Epel wanted to eat them, he wanted to do this even more.
Epel sat up, ignoring his stomach pain the best he could, and began a mental list of all the people he knew. And then a silent debate over who deserved his families apples in the first place.
Ok. First up Ace.
Epel would say they were friends. Not close friends by any means, but friends nonetheless.
Epel could give him one.
Next was Jack.
...In all honesty, epel didn't know. We're they friends, or just simply homework buddies that occasionally hung out?
...he could spare one for Jack, maybe they'd be friends then if they weren't already.
Duece.
Yes. Just- just yes. That day on the beach had changed their relationship forever. Duece was like a brother to him at this point.
He was goddamn getting an apple.
Epel chuckled a little at the realization that he was treating this like one of those elimination gameshows his meemaw liked.
Ok...he had two apples left after that.
Sebek wasn't really his friend was he? He certainly didn't make it seem like he was. If anything, Sebek was trying his damnedest to make them all belive the exact opposite, really.
....maybe he should just give the apple to Rook.
Or Vil.
Maybe.
Ok. He has one apple left.
The two of you weren't really friends. But you were friendly. If nothing else, you had been nothing but kind to him so far.
And plus, you looked uh. Half dead. To put it nicely.
And so, with a smile on his face, epel took out the crate of apples and began placing them on a bag that would make them easier to carry around tomorrow.
He couldn't wait.
.
.
.
It's funny how your whole life can change in a single moment, especially when you don't even know what that moment was.
Why were you here? Where is here anyway? Surely, magic didn't exist right?
The air wasn't always this clean right?
Water wasn't readily available at the turn of a handle right?
People didnt...people werent...weren't....
Heh. Heheha.
Why.
Why were you here?
Why were you here?
Why you and not one of the kids? What the hell have you ever done but use up medical supplies in a fruitless effort to keep you alive.
Why was this world so...pretty. happy. Clean.
Why this world and not your own? What had this world ever done to deserve this luxury of life.
...What had yours?
What had you?
Out of all the base commanders, the medics, the farmers, or children, or any of the other apprentice kids that you sometimes had to work with.
You were here. And they were still trapped inside of that hell.
...You didn't deserve this.
You died. You were on that beach and you died.
You woke up in a coffin, but something told you this wasn't the afterlife.
That something being the blood that you coughed up the other day.
It wasn't from internal bleeding, you k ew that much. Rather, it was from you coughing so hard that something in your throat had ripped.
It really didn't matter. You had spent nearly half an hour in a panic, choking and trying to unclog your airways, while grim and the ghosts you had come to somewhat love, stood behind you, offering what little comfort they could.
It wasn't the first time this happened after all.
You were still bedridden for a good two days after that. Thank God for the weekend.
Time passed in a blur while you were like that. It always did, mostly because you were asleep ninety percent of the time. The other twn being dedicated to medicine and a vain attempt to get food you knew you couldn't stomach to stay down.
So no. This wasn't the afterlife.
It was just a beautiful second chance that you didn't deserve.
It was so confusing.
And this was so confusing.
What..is this weird red thing being handed to you?
Epel looked at you with a hopeful expression on his face. It reminded you of the little girl you used to look after...
You take the..thing.
Glancing over to your right, you watch Ace take a large bite out of it with a smile on his face.
Ok. So not poisonous. Good to know.
You saw Duece do the same thing.
You felt Jack staring at you, but you didn't dare look at him.
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Wonderland pt 1
Part 1 (Eventually) Yandere Luke castellan x Gender neutral reader
Summary you're from wonderland well at least you're mother is you're father is a God. The best swordsman in camp takes an.... interesting and obsessive liking to you
Also I feel like we offen forget wine isn't the only thing Dionysus is the God of but madness as well. I currently have bad writers block and couldn't currently think of anything else to add so I decided to split it into parts since I needed to post something.
Trigger warnings nothing yet, but eventually in future parts yandere themes like stalking, manipulation, kidnapping (extra)
You weren't from this world well......technically you are you were from a part of the world everyone thought was made up just another part of the human imagination......Wonderland . Wonderland was very.....disconnected from actual sane people or large bustling cities like New York. Your mother was probably one of the subjects of the queen of hearts just kinda surviving. Your father isn't exactly normal either he was also never around. Honestly as much as you love your mother it was kinda hard to imagine a God falling for her or really a God falling for anyone in Wonderland because while some of the inhabitants of Wonderland is more sane then others even the more sane ones start to go insane eventually.
Which is why when you were 13 you ran away from home. Although you had no clue where to go or what to do now you had left Wonderland. You're clothes and mismatched socks probably also made you stand out to by standers because in real life on Earth the other humans weren't used to seeing people dress in bright colors and patterns unless celebrating. After a few days of wandering aimlessly you ran into help or rather help ran into you.
You were desperately scrounging around for food thinking maybe it wasn't such a good idea to leave home when you felt someone run smack into you causing you both to tumble towards the ground. "Oh my pan! I'm so sorry." A male voice said. He had ...goat horns? Ehh not the weirdest thing you've ever seen. "Are those horns really or .....?" You asked. "They're real. Oh I'm Grover. " Grover replied. You weren't sure what to say or do and that's how you met Grover. After about a week of traveling with Grover is when you met Luke, Thalia and Annabeth.
" Hey Grover I'm going to find something to eat for myself. " You replied. " Ok just don't go far I'll finish setting up camp." Grover said. You did in fact wander to far when you stumbled upon a bush full of berries and you were about to eat some when you heard a voice tell you to wait. "Wait, don't eat those! those are holly berries they are poisonous!" A young female voice exclaimed. You looked around for the source of the voice. You spotted a young girl no older than 7 standing between some trees you could make out 2 more figures behind her one another female and the other male. You backed away your left hand reaching for a dagger in your pocket you swear wasn't there a moment ago while you're right hand still held the berries.
" Who are you why should I trust you?" You questioned. You got a closer look at them the seven year old girl had grey eyes , black hair and brown skin, the other gir who looked about a year younger than you so 12 had choppy short black hair , blue eyes and is white. She pushed the younger seven year old behind her. " Thalia I can protect myself!" The seven year old exclaimed. While the two girls were arguing you managed to sneak away not noticing the male following you.
" Grover!" You exclaimed finally making it back to the very stressed looking satyr. Grover rushed over to you. " Y/n there you are! You were gone for an hour I was worried I was calling your name but no reply and I didn't want to leave the fire unattended. Your not hurt are you?" Grover asked like a panicked father looking over you to make sure you didn't have any new injuries. " Hey Grover I'm ok. I'm ok." You replied. " Pan Y/n you had me so worried!" Grover exclaimed. "LUKE!" The older female voice Thalia called out causing You and Grover to look in the direction of Thalia's voice and there stood the male that had been with the 2 younger females.
Now learning his name is Luke. You started to reach for your dagger once again.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you. "
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Tyler is hopping around on his pogo stick again. When he lands, it's with a mushy thump as he sinks into the rotting floorboards. Sometimes he gets stuck and just tips over instead of bouncing back up. It makes him stumble and jump ship. Moment of perfection ruined.
I need to renew my driver's license, I say.
"What are you telling me for?"
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
If Tyler's bed had a backboard, this is how it would sound before he and Marla pounded through to the next room.
I am Jack's throat of bile.
"Fine," Tyler says. "We'll go."
I do not say, we? Questioning Tyler is an amateur move I've managed to avoid for two months now.
Getting to the DMV takes three buses and a thirty minute walk. Presumably, they've decided you'll be driving there. Sometimes I think about the Audi I had before my Dakapo halogen torchiere speared it. One of Zeus' modern day lightning bolts, making sure the debris from my exploded condo totaled my car.
I could've gotten the windshield replaced. Somewhere, in a junkyard filled with unloved 50s salvage, there's the crushed up cube remains of this year's luxury sedan.
Tyler spends the entire time walking one half step behind me, making me lead him around. It makes me feel blind, like I'm a thirty year old boy still trying to get his father to take him places. I am the world's most easily played instrument. Whenever I look back he's grinning, chipped teeth and split lips.
It's a Saturday and we've arrived two hours or so after opening. This means that when I get my ticket stub, it reads an obscenely high number. I will be sitting here for the next six hours. Give or take.
The thing about seating in a government building is they know you have no choice to be there for at least two hours, if you're lucky. Naturally, the chairs are cheap, yawning plastic bolted into the floor at a height most optimal for slightly tall seven year olds.
Tyler and I toss ourselves into the only two person gap we can find, between a large man giving Bob a run for his money on hormone reversal and a frail woman in her eighties. Both look like I'd see them on a weeknight. I wonder if this is where Marla lurks in the time between when she's fucking Tyler and fucking up my support groups.
"You don't need this shit," Tyler says.
He's slouching into the chair, arms crossed and legs long and in the way. If I were to look where his shirt is rucked up, I'd see his skin disappear into the dark gap between his chiseled hip and the beige slacks he puts on when he pretends he's pretending to be a nice person. It's an obvious farce, since he hasn't even bothered to put underwear on.
This is one of those things that I try not to think too hard about, but I have something like four hundred minutes left to wait around here. I should've brought a few National Geographics.
I need a driver's license for my job, Tyler, I say. The old woman gives me a look.
"Christ." Tyler spits on the floor. I try not to be jealous. My seat neighbor, she gets right up and goes to the other end of the building. "Just roll over, why don't you."
I can tell, this will be a lesson. He gets this huge sureness about himself, like his dick is so big it's slapped his face into that smug false contemplation.
I need some kind of ID, Tyler.
Tyler says, "No you don't. Your bank already has you by the balls with your social security number. You ride the bus around. You're at the airport so often the airline staff recognize you. You only drive when work sends you to a small town, which happens fuck all three times a year. Tell me, you get a good fake, you think the overworked and underpaid car rental employee writing down your information would notice it unless you crashed his car? You know if that happened it'd be because you did it to kill yourself, so where's the problem?"
You could be a perfect driver and die on the road at any second, I protest.
We're attracting attention. Not Bob shifts around. Our conversation is quiet but unnerving.
Tyler says, "Does it feel nice, signing yourself up like a feedlot steer?"
Fucking hell, Tyler. It's not like anyone wants to do this. No one wants to be here. Not everyone can work three night shifts and have no identity according to the government.
Tyler says, "The only thing stopping you is the little set of rules you've set up for yourself."
What does Tyler know about my ability to do things?
"More than you," Tyler says. "You didn't think you could fight. You didn't think you could live without your perfect IKEA nest."
He's right. I still want to kick him to the floor and introduce his teeth to the tile. I notice, Not Bob has cleared the area. Retreat to safety. Bomb detonation in five, four. We've got a three seat berth on each side with people standing packed against the walls of the place.
A lone security guard floats our way.
"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, sir."
It's not the way that the men at fight club have started calling me sir. The security guard is looking at me like he knows about my condo blowing up, and he feels awfully sure about the cause.
I need to renew my driver's license.
Tyler says, "If we pay taxes for this building, these workers, doesn't that mean we pay your salary? You're going to kick out your kindest boss?"
"If you don't leave, I'll have to call the police."
Tyler says, "Can't even do it yourself?"
I think, every second of this day has been excruciating, and I have been awake for 77 hours.
Tyler socks the security guard right in the jaw, and the crowd goes wild.
It happens like this: Tyler hits the security guard with all four knuckles, all the people start screaming, and the security guard goes for his gun. I am standing in the middle of this hurricane, calm like a baby that's just been left in the car in 90 degree weather. I start walking.
Behind me, Tyler wrestles for the gun. He tosses it towards the kiosk that spat out my waiting ticket. He lets the security guard hit him in the gut. The face. The face again. He's on the ground, bloody spit threading his rebroken smile, and the security guard is kicking him in the gut. Tyler curls into a ball, the security guard kicks him in the kidneys. This will give Tyler bruises like size thirteen boots and make him piss blood for three weeks.
I reach the door, and Tyler's crawling after me. The security guard has come out of his haze, and now the crowd is staring at him. The headline: local DMV worker brutally bludgeons mentally ill constituent. People stare at him, now aware of the violence he is capable of. They wonder. He wonders.
Tyler limps out the door. We get on the bus and the driver stares at us and does not make us pay when we walk past him to the seats. The driver had a black eye. We saw him at fight club last week.
We sit, and I tell Tyler, because of him I'm definitely on a list now. Like they had for all those communists, but now it's for schizophrenics who might bomb their local state Department of Motor Vehicles location. I tell him if I get a letter saying I have to show up in court because I beat up a government worker, I'm sending him, and he can have fun explaining that to whatever rancid old judge presides over our case.
He laughs, and laughs, and laughs.
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𝐀 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐞 ! ‧ ₊˚ ✧
𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌
summary: a surprise gone wrong.
warnings: none
pairing: karma akabane x assassin!reader
notes: oo first karma fanfic in a while! i've written a fic like this in the past with karma but i never got to finish it, but now i finally have! :D
adjusting the mask that concealed your face, you stand before class E.
it was an hour ago when you proposed to karasuma that you be in today's pe class. with you being an assassin, he agreed it would be beneficial for the class to test their skills and see how far they've come. both of you saw eye to eye with this, but it wasn't the main reason why you wanted to be included.
you see, because of a week-long mission, you weren't able to see karma for those seven days; contacting him would have put the mission at risk. so with your return, you thought it would be fun to surprise him, to surprise the whole class.
now, you stand idle wearing a kabuki mask, your appearance hindered so you seemed genderless. it was nerve wracking being in front of class E as a foe; you hope they'd still like you after sparring with them.
ah, it's no time to fret over.
karasuma was currently going over the instructions of today's training. you were beside him with your arms folded behind you, your posture as straight as can be so the class wouldn't be suspicious. in reality, they don't know you're an assassin—only karma does—so it isn't difficult deceiving them. but despite that, you know your classmates are smart, so it was best if you blew off any suspicion.
"right. instead of the class sparring with each other, you will spar with them–" karasuma points at you, "–to test your skills in close combat."
while the teacher spoke, your eyes wander over to koro-sensei—who was in a sand pit. the octopus takes notice of your stare and grins as he waves at you. the action makes you flinch, although you wave back in solidarity. you turn toward karasuma at the sound of his next instructions.
"your task is to try and remove the mask from your opponent's face."
isogai raises his hand, "what do we win in return?"
"nothing."
"a date!"
all attention shifts to koro-sensei as he yells those words. you, on the other hand, are taken aback by the suggestion and snap your head to where the octopus sat.
"i–"
"i'm in!" terasaka exclaims from the back of the class. you groan, practically dying as more began agreeing with koro-sensei's proposal.
"yeah, it sounds fun! though i doubt i would actually go on a date with them if they're a chick." rio announces with a laugh.
"only one way to find out." you overhear okajima say, shivering in disgust at the perverted tone he uses.
"i will be calling you one by one, so please squat while you all wait for your turn." karasuma states to the class and they all obey.
so no objection to the date thing, huh? you deadpan behind the mask. once all your classmates were seated on the open field, you observe that one student wasn't with the group—also noting that that student hasn't said a word so far.
looking over to a nearby tree, you recognize your boyfriend leaning against it. from your standpoint, his eyes were focused solely on the class building. you couldn't fret over him for long, though, as karasuma called over the first student.
"muramatsu!"
defeating your classmates in close combat proved to be much easier than you expected. you'd think with your week-long absence that most of them would improve in their skills, but they haven't much.
"okuda!"
oh no.. the girl was one of your closest companions, debatably more than karma if not as a boyfriend. a dispute broke out in your mind whether to go easy on her or not, but you thought back on karasuma's words.
"it would test their skills."
he had a point, you should treat her fairly. in addition, this would let you see how far she is in hand to hand combat.
the female advances toward you, her demeanor hesitant and shy. you get into position and make a 'proceed' motion with your fingers; she strikes. it's an attempt to hit your mask, however you counter with a defensive palm strike to her incoming arm.
you utilize your other hand and grip her wrist tight. the girl then tries to grab the mask using her less dominant hand but you smack it away with the forearm you used to counter her previous attack. once okuda was distracted, you disrupt her balance by sweeping her legs from under her.
the student was now on the ground with you still clutching her right wrist; your other hand keeping her shoulder locked to the ground.
the rest of class E marvels at your skills, clapping in unity—partly for you and partly for okuda. by the sound of a whistle, you let go of the girl and help her up.
"you did great okuda!" nagisa gives okuda a thumbs up.
you commended the blue-haired boy for lasting longer than most of the others when he was called up. although, it was isogai who outdid even him and accomplished twisting your mask so a part of your face was displayed.
majority of the class had already participated, so the only one left was, "akabane!"
you peer over to where karma was, noting that he didn't take initiative to move from his spot. you roll your eyes, was he always this harrowing when you'd be gone for extended periods of time?
karasuma yells out for karma once more and only then did the red head move. his strides seemed restraint. he wasn't holding himself with high confidence, which you sigh at. you're being dramatic. you think, deeming his behavior to be 'over the top' because you were only gone for a week.
i should be assigned on a month-long mission and see his reaction. you snicker at the mental image of it.
"let's get this over with."
the pair of you get into position and you let karma toss the first move. he attempts to close the distance between you and takes hold of your dominant arm. countering the move, you throw off his balance. you recognize that your boyfriend has fast reflexes, so knocking out his balance would be an advantage for you.
the whistle... karma lost. both of you breathe heavily, panting like dogs in summer heat. currently, you were straddling the male, with him beneath you, pinning his arms to the grassy terrain.
the session was drawn-out longer than you anticipated, had your boyfriend been training? you'd frequently spar with each other so this new level of skill karma managed to achieve was a surprise.
"so none of us win a date with this beast?" maehara asks in the heat of the silence.
"even karma couldn't beat them.." kayano mentions in awe, whereas the rest of the class stare at the scene quietly.
as if on cue, the string of your kabuki mask snaps. the object falls on karma and you stiffen, this was not the plan. but you couldn't do anything, your identity was made known now that you weren't hiding behind a mask.
you didn't have to scan your classmates' faces to know how they would react.
but what of karma? what of your boyfriend? despite knowing him better than anyone else, he was still unpredictable.
you didn't know how he'd behave with your return.
would he be angry because you didn't call him prior? will he be happy to see you after a week of no communication? or even–
"(name)?"
your thoughts are cut off by the sound of karma's voice breaking through the silence. you get off of him in a frenzy, words spilling out of your mouth in an effort to explain yourself.
"i was going to come into class today after returning from my trip, but i thought that this would be better, you know? i was going to reveal myself after pe! and this wasn't supposed to happen, believe me, but– ah.."
groaning, you eventually stop rambling and rest your head in your hands, waiting for their inevitable response. one moment it was only your heavy breathing you heard, and the next there was a group of yelling adolescence in your ears—accompanied by many arms wrapping around your body.
they were hollering out a deal of words you couldn't quite catch, so you simply hug the person closest to you—which happens to be kayano.
school already ended for the day and you had finished your affairs. but one thing kept bothering you all throughout the day, though. it was that karma had never once talked to you, he never even glanced at you nor acknowledged you during breaks.
the pair of you are wending your way through an empty street at present, but not a word has been spoken between you two. you did attempt to strike up a conversation but absolutely failed, perhaps you should apologize first.
"i'm sorry i didn't contact you as soon as i finished my mission. i thought surprising you would be fun– or i guess it was more of a.. prank...?"
your words slow to a stop immediately as karma begins laughing out loud. truly, your boyfriend was an unpredictable enigma.
"you should've said something the moment that octopus mentioned we'd win a date with you."
you pause your movements, utterly stunned at karma's words.
"is that why you didn't talk to me all day?" you blink, your tone barely passing as an inside voice; beyond dumbfounded with your boyfriend's reasoning.
karma stops in his tracks, as well, and shrugs. "pretty much. you never objected to it, so–" he moves closer, "–would you have gone on a date with the person who won against you?"
the tight proximity between you both causes you to sweat drop. you pull away from the male while the question lingers in the air, waiting for a response.
"no, of course not. anyway, i didn't say anything because i didn't wanna ruin the surprise." you clarify.
"good, i should be the only one who takes you on dates."
a laugh erupts in your throat at his statement; karma's attention loiters on you, his eyes carrying mischief in them and so, he gets an idea.
"and.. i should be the only one who gets to do this with you." the redhead dives in for a kiss and reaches to hold your waist with both hands. you freeze-up for a moment, present events still sinking in; eventually you kiss him back with much more force—settling your hands to wrap around his neck.
karma smirks into the kiss and cranes his neck so he would be 'looking down' and you 'looking up'. the male squeezes your sides and you make a noise. in retaliation, you rake your hands through his locks and pull on it.
your boyfriend breaks your lips' connection, accepting his defeat.
"don't do that." you demand as you let go of his hair, and his neck altogether for that matter.
karma sticks his tongue out like a child at your disclosure. you huff and turn away from him, marching to the direction of your homes. the male catches up to you, albeit he's more relaxed than you and your stiff strides. you also note that he still had an arm snaked around your waist.
"get your hands off me."
"not a chance~!"
© its-weeping — do not plagiarize or translate.
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Obsession, part 18
When you walked by the room Alicent had been given your jaw almost dropped. There was a rack with an array of dresses, all in shades of green, a shelf with several pairs of heels, another shelf with what looked a boutique's worth of hair and cosmetic products.
Alicent Hightower might be crying and worried, but she was going to look good doing it.
Helaena had brought her laptop over last night - she usually arranged to have a set of clothes for everyone in the family, as well as the basic necessities, ready to go whenever needed, so she'd left two neat piles on the bed in your room. One with clothes, the other one with electronics and toiletries.
"We might be here a couple of days, I can have something ordered and it will be here within a couple of hours."
You looked down at your sweater and leggings. "If it's okay, can you get me some more of these? As long as they're comfortable so I can sleep in them, I'm good."
Helaena smiled. "Of course. Any particular colors? I know you like soft pinks."
"Blue, maybe. Thank you, Hel." You hugged her and she kissed your cheek.
* * * * *
You returned to Aemond's room to find Alicent praying at his side. As you turned to let her have her privacy, you heard the chair move.
"It's fine, I'm finished."
"If you need more time, I can wait outside."
Alicent smiled at you, "you're the wife. You take precedence over me."
"Alicent, I don't believe in that," you said, "your son is hurt, you take all the time you need. I would never kick you out because I 'take precedence'," you added, making quote signs with your fingers. "I'll be back in a minute."
You went to grab a bottle of water and when you returned, she was holding Aemond's hand. "Your wife is back, I will return later." She leaned down to kiss his forehead and gave you a small smile as she left.
"Aemond," you said gently, sitting next to his bed. "It's time to wake up, my love." You felt tears beginning to gather behind your eyes. "I miss you," you whispered. "Please come back to me."
You grabbed his hand, threaded your fingers through his, kissed the wedding ring he wore. There was a bruise on his elbow where he'd probably landed when he was thrown to the ground, and there was a larger bruise forming beyond the edges of the bandage over the surgery site.
So close to his heart, you thought.
You pressed your forehead against the back of his hand. "Aemond, I love you. Please wake up. None of this means anything to me if you're not with me."
You started to cry, afraid and exhausted, wanting nothing more than for him to come back to you.
* * * * *
"He was lucky in that the collapsed area was small, and that he was flown over quickly," the surgeon was saying.
"Why hasn't he woken up, is there anything else going on?"
"No," the surgeon said, "he is in excellent health. Sometimes it takes a little longer to wake. I wouldn't worry too much about it for the next few hours, Mrs. Targaryen. Excuse me."
You watched him walk away, and once again resisted the urge to start Googling partially collapsed lungs because you were sure to find the worst case scenarios.
"Here."
You turned as Helaena pressed a pastry into your hand. It was some kind of apple thing and it smelled amazing.
"Have you or Aegon ever been hurt?"
"Um, someone shot at Aegon once but Aemond got him out of the way. And of course, you saved me," she smiled at you. "Dad was shot at a few times, he was hit in the hand once, but other than that, nothing major."
By the motherfucking Seven, just about everyone in this family had been shot at.
You took a bite of the pastry.
"Where did you get those, I want one," Aegon said, coming up to take a bite of Helaena's pastry.
"Hey!"
"That's good shit," he said through a mouth full of food, then took another bite and ran off before Helaena could smack him.
"Daeron is on the way. You'll like him, he's so nice. He's the baby of the family."
You smiled at her. "I've seen pictures, it will be nice to meet him. Thank you for breakfast," you said, heading back into Aemond's room.
You sat next to him, finishing up your pastry, and then took his hand again. "Daeron is coming to see you. We are all here, Aemond."
You wouldn't cry again. You knew that sometimes people were still able to hear those around him, and you didn't want him to just hear you cry over and over. "I was thinking about what you said, going somewhere? That would be nice. I know we need to take guards, but maybe when you're all healed up we can take a little trip?"
You rubbed his hand between yours, kissed the back of his fingers. "I was thinking of getting back into drawing. I used to do it a long time ago and I saw this online course I could take. Your mom has been here a lot, we've had some good conversations. So has Aegon, he really does love you, Aemond," you said against his hand."
"And you?"
His voice was so faint and so raspy that you thought you'd imagined it, but when you looked up, he was looking right at you.
You let out a breath, all words forgotten. You started laughing and crying as you rose and kissed his cheek, trying not to move him too much. You kissed his cheek, his lips, his hair, his hand going up to take yours. "I love you," you said against his mouth, "I love you so much."
* * * * *
Alicent was the first to run into the room when you called out that Aemond was awake, her killer heels no impediment as she rushed in and took his other hand.
You moved aside to let the doctor look at the surgery site. "It's healing very well," he said. "If you're feeling up to it, you can go home in a couple of days. With a lot of restrictions," he warned. "I will leave you to your family.
You watched as Aegon, uncharacteristically emotional, ran his hand through Aemond's hair, nodding silently at his brother.
"I see the party started without me."
You turned to the doorway to see a young man you knew to be Daeron, who stood with a backpack hanging off one shoulder.
Daeron hugged his mother, let himself be engulfed by Aegon, and got a kiss on the cheek from Helaena before he made it to Aemond's side. "Glad to see you awake, Aem."
"Glad to be awake."
You took a step back, letting Daeron through. "Hey, nice to meet you, new sister," he said, hugging you before he leaned over and pressed his forehead to his brother's.
You watched the usually composed Alicent crying as all her children gathered. Helaena linked her arm through her mother's, placing her head on Alicent's shoulder. You watched Aegon pull Daeron into a hug, slapping his brother's back.
And you watched Aemond watching his family with a smile on his face.
* * * * *
Two days later, as you walked down the concrete hallway, you felt your heart pounding in your ears. You had gotten a few pointers from Aegon, but still, you were nervous.
The door opened and you saw an empty space with a single chair in the center and a man tied to it.
You nearly ran over to punch him in the face.
"Steady, sis," Aegon whispered beside you. "You'll get your chance."
"Where is my daughter?" Borros Baratheon bellowed.
"Dead" Aegon snapped at him, and Borros roared. "Your own fucking fault, old man."
Borros kept screaming and for a moment you felt badly for him. Floris had died amidst the volleys of gunfire and Borros had been swiftly taken by Aemond's men.
Helaena and Daeron walked in and Borros looked at everyone facing him. His eyes, the renowned Baratheon blue, landed on you. "And who the fuck are you?"
You felt Aegon's hand on your back.
"I'm Aemond's wife."
Borros looked you up and down. "Wife?" he asked, "or widow?"
"Wife."
He snapped his eyes to the doorway, where Aemond stood. Daeron had pushed the wheelchair the surgeon had insisted he use until he left Tarth, down the hallway, but Aemond had insisted on facing Borros on his own two feet.
"I am sorry for your loss," he said gently.
"You'll see her again soon, you sick fuck," Aegon added. "Lets get this over with, I want to go home."
He pulled out a gun and handed it to you. He looked at you and nodded.
"Tarth!" Borros screamed, hoping for rescue.
You'd practiced a little but there was no way you were remotely comfortable holding a gun. You held it securely and aimed at Borros's chest.
"Borros Baratheon," you said, "know that you didn't take him from me, but we will take everything from you, and make House Baratheon a memory."
You pulled the trigger, your arms ready for the kickback, and saw the moment blood started to bloom below Borros's shoulder. He jerked back, growling in pain.
"I will pay you," he gritted out, panting heavily.
"You already have," Aemond said, and took the gun from you. He raised his hand and shot him through the forehead.
Borros's head fell back and his mouth went slack, and Aemond gave the gun back to Aegon.
"Let's go home."
* * * * *
You hadn't let go of Aemond since he'd woken up, other than to use the bathroom or when the doctor was examining him. And you didn't let go of him on the way home, sitting next to him on the plane, and then in the car.
"You did well."
"I meant to shoot him where he shot you," you said sheepishly. "I should take lessons."
Aemond kissed your hair. "First self defense, then shooting."
You leaned into him, his hand in yours. He squeezed your hand, then turned it over. "About time I get you an engagement ring, don't you think?"
"I don't care," you replied.
He rolled his eye at you. "Then maybe, an 'I took my first shot' ring since you did so well."
You laughed. "That is so morbid."
He leaned over to kiss you, his lips gentle. You remembered how you had looked at him while he was on the hospital bed, so still, his skin so pale, and you cupped his cheek.
When he pulled back he looked at you. "I'm here," he murmured, reading your thoughts. You nodded at him. You were almost home and you wanted nothing more than to know you were both safe and sound.
* * * * *
"I heard you, you know."
She was arranging pillows behind his back, tucking a blanket over his legs, making sure his water and pills were within reach. When she heard him, she looked up.
"When?"
"Before I woke up."
She looked around, remembering, and then she smiled. "Which part?"
"You told me to come back to you."
She nodded and went to sit next to him, her legs tucked under her. "I did."
"Don't ever say I don't listen to you."
She laughed, and then her lips pressed together and she buried her face in her hands. "I'm sorry," she said as she broke down. "I really don't mean to be so weak."
He pulled her in, "you're not weak," he kissed the top of her head as she sobbed, "the last fucking thing you are is weak."
When she stopped crying, he kissed her cheek. "You know, I thought I'd never find someone. Between what I do, my family, that fact that I didn't want a fucking mafia princess which ruled out 90% of my options, I just didn't think it would happen."
"But then you appeared," he continued, "and you wanted nothing to do with me."
She smiled, remembering well their first meeting.
"And then I saw you at the wedding and I thought you were a goddess-"
She scoffed, shaking her head.
"You were. And then I followed you, and then I kissed you. And whether you knew it - whether I knew it - I was yours."
She pulled him in for a kiss, leaning over so he wouldn't have to turn.
"And I came to you, covered in blood, thinking I could frighten you and then you'd push me out of your life and that would be it."
"Aemond," she said softly.
"Because if you couldn't handle it, I had no business pulling you into this life. But instead I found I didn't want to leave your side."
"I'm with you," she replied. "I love you."
"I love you," he whispered, pulling her in, breathing the scent of her hair, her skin, smiling when she repeated I love you over and over. It was the sound that had pulled him back.
* * * * *
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The whale's tail.
A dark one shot. Levi Ackerman x Reader
Warnings: Mentions of abuse (psychological and physical), starving to death, angst, murder, mentions of rape.
Wrote this while i was at work. Sorry if it looks bad.
He couldn't believe what he saw. Her body dismembered, cut, bruised and abused on the floor. The consequences of living underground.
Levi Ackerman was sure that one day they would die, but he didn't know that she would die before him, much less in such a brutal way. A torture that lasted seven consecutive days, he watched, and he couldn't stop anything.
He listened to his loved one's screams attentively because his own blood did not allow him to see the one he loved suffer without doing anything, but he didn't do anything. He didn't do it because he was chained, being psychologically tortured. Being forced to see and hear your screams, your body being sexually abused, your face disfigured after so many punches.
When she was dismembered alive, he writhed, screamed along, begged for it not to happen, but your screams of pain were louder.
He was left behind in that cell, next to her corpse. Her lifeless eyes remained open. He could only look at her decapitated head.
Day after day handcuffed in that cell, without food, water and the horrible, rotten smell exuding from her body, getting worse after each small explosion of natural gas inside her, made him remember when he spent that week trapped next to his mother's corpse, the suffering only got worse.
He remembered things his beloved once told him. How much she loved the mystical image of that animal that existed outside those walls, the whale.
The spiritual and psychological meanings of this animal fascinated you, and you spent hours talking about it. Even though he didn't show interest, he listened carefully to her words.
║▌│█║▌│ █║▌│█│║▌║║▌│█║▌│ █║▌│█│║▌║║▌│█║▌│ █
"Why do you like these animals so much, huh? You don't even know if they exist or not." That's what he said the first time you told him about it, the response he received was like fire igniting in his coal heart.
"Whether they exist or not, I don't care. Life down here is extremely difficult. We have to have something to forget the difficulties from time to time, right? You're only grumpy like that because you didn't understand that yet." And it was with these words you said that made him realize that he was completely and deeply in love with you because you were his escape from his world.
☆°•♡°•☆°•♡
"So, as I was saying, whales also mean rebirth, given the fact that it is also a supporter of the world!" You said happily, explaining again about your vast knowledge about whales. "Oh, and they symbolize the deep human unconscious, where no light can reach. And it also symbolizes absolute sadness, where there is no joy."
"Pretty deep. Where did you read that?" Levi asked taking a sip of his tea, listening to you talk. "How about you drink some of your tea now? It's been twenty minutes since you started talking, it's already cold enough."
"No, but listen!..." And with that, you started talking again.
║▌│█║▌│ █║▌│█│║▌║║▌│█║▌│ █║▌│█│║▌║║▌│█║▌│ █
Now, he finally understood how he liked to hear your voice saying nonsense, things he admired about you. The way you talked about those animals was what he liked to hear most, it was what kept him sane every day.
He couldn't cry or scream anymore, and it had been two days since the last time he said anything. His voice was hoarse, weak, almost like a whisper.
"You, my angel, my saint, my last shred of sanity... I miss your voice. It's been four days since you said anything, or at least screamed." He began to utter the most profound words he had ever said in his entire life. He was close to death, that was no doubt.
"I learned from you that whales develop communication at the bottom of the sea, that they are a symbol of absolute sadness, of collectiveness, lasting love..." He spat out what seemed to be the last bit of water in his body. His eyes fought to stay open and confess his love.
"I loved hearing your voice saying nonsense, your childish games, your light snores when you slept in my office... You were like the deep love of a whale for me. Going to the bottom of the sea and coming back. Following me to the poles of the planet together with our brood... I wish I had enjoyed it more. I think maybe now I can... In a new life, like one of those affectionate whales you told me about. Maybe this way, we will have peace in our lives. .." And with that, he drifted off to his eternal slumber...
Both of your bodies laid in that cell. Your body parts scattered all around the floor with your dried blood. And his skinny, malnourished tired body.
What a romantic view.
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Puppy Face
Synopsis: One where Harry gets his second promised date
Series Masterlist | More of my work
Sunday morning,
YN was going to work her weekend shift today to fill in for one of her colleagues. They were always short staffed on weekends.
Opening up was the only thing she hated about her job. She has to wake up at five-thirty in the morning, go to the cafe by seven and get place ready for it to open up at nine in the morning.
It's been two whole weeks and couple of days over since her date with Harry. They have been texting back and forth non stop since, staying up on video calls at late at night.
Now it was sure the second date was something to happen and she wanted it to be on her. So she picked up her phone the first thing when her alarm went off to text him asking if he was free today.
- Good Morning!
YN didn't know why she was waited five whole minutes staring at her phone to see those three dots appear on her screen. He was offline and it was it was half past five in the morning and as far as she knew, he'd returned just yesterday afternoon from LA. He was there for his movie premiere.
Frustrated about having to wake up early she wanted to throw her phone across the room. But she opted not to, she bought it very recently and it was expensive. She placed her phone carefully on the side table as she went to get ready and leave her house by seven-thirty.
At around ten she went back to the break room to have her breakfast. Harry still hadn't texted her back. Sadly she shoved pancake in her mouth, she had to eat as she couldn't skip her medications.
Why is she feeling so many emotions since she woke up?
But he never takes more than ten minutes to respond. Or when he's busy he'd send in a little apology and a promise to get back as soon as he can. He must be sleeping but he's told her he never sleeps past nine. And it was nearing to afternoon now. It worried her but also made her a teeny bit upset.
Luckily for her the cafe was very busy today, it kept her distracted. She better get her overtime for this or she is going to flip out. Busy house also meant more entitled customers which was annoying her more and more. And Harry is yet to text her back!
"Stop it YN! Calm down!" She mumbled to herself going back to the break room after dealing with a very annoying customer who wasted an hour and half of her time, "you're okay! You're okay!"
"YN? You alright?" Her manager approached her.
"Yeah, I am." She nodded, ,thank you Jennifer, she was just so annoying."
"I know, just take some time to yourself yeah? I'll fill in for you meanwhile." She offered.
"Yeah, I just need five minutes." YN agreed.
This was really beautiful thing about working where YN worked. Everyone was just so respectful of each other. All employees taking upon themselves to make the work environment as humble and warm as possible. Not to mention the manager is a sweetheart!
She was about to head back to work when her phone chimed four times with the usual happy tune. It was half past three now. Way past her lunch time and her day was falling apart like a puff pastry. All it took to put it back together was a text she was waiting for.
H💚
- Hello my darling, good afternoon!
- I am sorry I slept in late
- Just woke up to your text
- Why were you up at 5.30?
He slept till this late? YN wondered. He must have been really tired then. That little pet name warmed her heart so much.
- Hiya!
- No, it's okay!
- I have work today. Had to open today.
- How are you?
H💚
- A little tired from the flight thank you for asking <3
She smiled at the little heart. Feeling proud to be one to introduce him to different emojis. He was confused seeing the emoji made of a mathematical symbol and number.
- Do you have any plans today?
She pressed the send button nervously. She has been thinking about this from last week since he left for his movie promotion, first in New York and then in LA.
H💚
- No. Not yet.
Okay! So now she's gonna have to do it. She sat down to keep herself calm. She typed her questions all three times, rephrasing it to the perfection. Listen, English is not her first language and she hasn't asked anyone on a date.
- Do you want to come over for dinner at mine?
H💚
- What's the occasion? :))
God he's annoying sometimes! What was the occasion? Nothing. There was no occasion. Can a date be an occasion?
- Nothing...
- I was going to make Biryani tonight
That's the truth. She was. Only if he agrees though because it wouldn't be worth the work just for herself.
H💚
- I'd like me some Biryani!
- Especially if you're making it
"Awe!" She found herself cooing at her phone like an complete idiot! Shaking her head she typed her response.
- Okay. Would 8.30 work for you?
She pressed send.
H💚
- Works for me.
- See you tonight then, yeah?
YN is very excited.
- see ya xx
She finally locked her phone and just as she was about to place it back in the safe shelf before get back to work it chimed again. Another text from Harry.
H💚
- Is this a date?
God! He is so cheeky!
- Of course it is! Do you want it to be?
She could imagine him giggling at his phone just like she is right now.
H💚
- oh! Did I sent it?
YN laughed audibly loud earning a weird confused look from her manager, but she smiled and got back to her work. That's what she ended up saying
- No! I am a psychic :)
H💚
- hahahaha cheeky!
- I'll see you tonight love xx
YN locked her phone and finally placed it back in the safe shelf in the break room.
"Jen, can I clock out an hour early today?" She asked.
"Sure, if you want to." The blonde nodded in agreement. YN nodded and walked to the till to continue her work.
......................................................................
YN went back home all giddy and happy. After a short shower - she sure smelled like coffee after she accidentally drenched herself with espresso today and ruined one of her white T-shirt at the sleeves - she got to cooking.
It took her longer than she expected. Taking the risk to call her annoying grandma for a short recap of the recipe she taught her years ago. So add to the pile bad things happening to her today, she cut herself whilst making some salad. She was barely done by eight-thirty and Harry was already knocking on the door.
She looked around and found the mess of amazing box half open on her coffee table which arrived just after she reached home. It looked messy but she went to get the door as it would be impolite to make him stand and wait outside. She also forgot to feed McFish.
"Hey you," Harry beamed when she opened the door.
"Hey you," she stepped aside he can get in and she can shut the door. He tackled her with a bear warm embrace at the door wrapping his arms around her middle. Serotonin clouded her brain feeling him smooshing his face in her hair but she wasted no time in returning the affectionate gesture draping her own arms around his shoulders.
"I missed you." He mumbled not willing to let go of her. She wouldn't lie she did too. She missed seeing his beaming face as he walked into the cafe every morning in person. Hearing his raspy deep voice every morning which readied her to face those annoying customers who walked through the threshold everyday without a fail.
As a fan she really liked seeing him everyday. But she still treated him like every other of her customers assuming it must be pretty frustrating for him being given special treatment just solely based on his social status. She just gree to be good friends with him, like few other people who visited who also went to the same college as hers but were her juniors or seniors. She just especially looked forward to seeing him everyday. And she indeed missed that, a little too much for her liking.
"I missed you too." She cooed and reluctantly pulled away from his arms remembering there is food on the stove. "Come in please, I need to check on the food."
"Mhmm." He nodded and took off his shoes placing them neatly on the side. He walked in.
His second time here and he could still smell the same incense he came across last time but he couldn't quite put his mind at what it was, sandal wood and roses he could smell. No doubt that's what gives her home a zen feel making it much more cosy. He could also smell the fresh spices and fragrant rice in the air. He went to greet His Highness, McFish.
"Can I feed him?" He asked, after a good couple minutes of silence. He was sat on the same chair as before looking at her fish.
"Hmm?" YN looked up at him from the kitchen, the small kitchen Island separated kitchen from the living room.
"Your fish," he said, "can I feed him?"
"Oh sure, I forgot to do that today." She nodded.
"How much do you give him always?" He picked up the blue jar of food which was neatly kept next to the aquarium along with a green and red one.
Even fishes eat different flavours of food? He found that amusing.
"Just half a pinch, or less." She shared, "it's easy to over feed them."
"Mhmm." He acknowledged her information as he proceeded to lift up the lid of the aquarium seeing the fish already swim up to the top. He dropped in a few palettes of his in the water being careful of the water filter.
"You can turn off the filter and oxygen until he eats." YN said, she was still checking up on the food he found.
"Okay." He nodded and turned the switch off. It made sense, if the fish isn't fast enough all his food could be sucked in by the water filter. Lastly he closed the lid back up.
YN was finally done. "Food is done, do you want to eat now?"
"Yeah," he agreed. "Lemme help you." He walked over to her.
"No it's fine." She protested.
"No, I want to!" He's stubborn, amd picked up the bowl of veggies chopped up in nice perfect cubes, drenched in something white - it must be some kind of cream, mayo? Yogurt? Curd? He didn't know but it looked delicious and he was a little hungry to be honest. "I'll take these." He took the places and the bowl of salad out to the table. YN brought in another bowl with Biryani she made, and water.
"Oh, you need a spoon? YN asked realising she haven't got any utensils apart from the serving spoon.
"Hey, what happened to your hand?" He asked distracted seeing a tissue paper wrapped around her finger as a make shift band-aid.
"I cut myself, it's fine." She shared. "I don't have any band-aid so I just wrapped this around my finger."
"You could have been careful!" He scolded her rightfully being mad. Grabbing her hand he made her sit on the spare chair pulling his own next to hers, he fetched for his wallet in his back pocket and took out a band-aid from it. "It's such a deep wound YN!" He glanced at her with his brows furrowed after he took off the tissue paper around her finger, to replace it with an actual band-aid.
He felt so bad that she hurt herself cooking for him and her. Though he was very well aware that she cooks at home everytime, accidents happens for him to feel a little a mad and upset about it.
"It doesn't happen often with me, I was talking to Brielle, my friend on the phone and it just... Happened." She shrugged, staring at him as he seemed much more concentrated on tending to her teeny tiny wound which didn't even hurt that much. She found it amusing how he carried spare Band-aids around with him in his wallet.
She couldn't fathom how pretty he is! Even more prettier in person inside and out, come on he's tending to her teeny tiny wound like it's a very big deal!
She looked at him how he blew soft air on her finger as he carefully wrapped the band-aid around ther tip where she'd cut herself. She wondered if he was wearing a tinted lip balm that his lips so pink and plush and soft. Would this it be too early to ask if she could kiss him?
They've been on Just one date apart of this one!
It shouldn't...
She was pulled out of her thoughts when he finally spoke: "Be careful next time, okay?" He looked at her giving her all his attention as she looked at him with a puppy face. He swore he was just a hair away from kissing that pout off her mouth. "What were you saying before?"
"Oh, I was asking if you need spoon." She repeated.
"We were going to eat with our hands?" He was confused.
"Traditionally, yes, but I can get you-"
"No, it's okay." He interrupted her politely, wanting to indulge into her world in a way, "I can try eating with my hand!"
"Okay, then go wash your hands." She chuckled at his excitement, she still got him a spoon if he changes his mind.
"How was you day, love?" He enquired as he took his seat again moving his chair back in front of her across the table.
"I don't know honestly." She shrugged, "can't explain. But this one lady just bickered with me for like an hour and half. God, I was so pissed!" She rolled her eyes.
"I'm sorry that happened," he cooed, "this is very delicious by the way!"
"Oh, thank you!" YN felt flattered by his compliment. She wasn't very great at cooking, but she made decent food. "Is it too spicy for you?" She smiled at him watching him eat with his hands, she never imagined to see him like that but he warmed her heart in a cool way.
"Tiny bit," he agreed. "What?"
"Nothing," she shook her head breathing out a subtle laugh, "you just look cute and all."
"Hey, I'm trying!" He whined.
"I did not say you aren't!" She defended. Shaking his head Harry got back to eating.
"Do you work tomorrow?" He asked.
"Yeah, got another early shift." She shared, "why?"
"I, ehm, got tickets to this, ehm museum, they have an art exhibition. One of my friend's gonna have her collection displayed there." He stuttered, but proceeded with a suggestion, "thought you'd maybe wanna go with me?"
"Oh," was her reaction. YN isn't really into art but she would be willing to go with him. "You sure about that?"
"Mhmm. Why wouldn't I?"
"No, I am sorry, I didn't meant it in a wrong way." She rushed, "I mean it is going to be pretty crowded there surely. I meant, would you really want me to go with you?"
God! She could feel her heart thumping in her ears. Yes, she is rightfully anxious. The museum is surely going to crowded, and he have been sighted by his fans there even when he's alone many times. It made her anxious. The internet made her anxious even though she haven't even agreed on going with him yet.
"It's okay." He assured her, "I understand, haven't really talked about it with you yet and it's fine with me if you don't want to go. Maybe next time? But it's okay."
"Harry, I do want to go, I'm just a bit anxious." She explained, "I'm sorry if I made you upset."
"No love, it's alright with me." He reassured her, "really it is, okay? You don't have to worry about it all, there are no cameras allowed there at the exhibition. I know it is still going to be inevitable to avoid them, but I promise you that you won't have to worry about it."
"Okay," she sounded, "would you be fine with that, I mean if there are any lurking cameras around there?"
"Of course I would be," he agreed in a heartbeat, "I took you out two weeks ago, didn't I?"
"Mhmm."
"This a bit sad honestly, to have even have this conversation." He started, "but this really just comes with my choice career. I've learned it's only going to be obvious if we make it obvious, and I don't want that. Not this soon at least."
YN felt that eerie feeling in her stomach you get when you know you're in some kind of trouble. That eerie bad and anxious feeling of making someone upset or sad even unintentionally. The feeling of nothing but cold air filling in your abdominal cavity.
He smiled before he continued, dimples denting into both his cheeks, "I like you a lot, if it's not been obvious until now." He searched her face watching her bite the inside of her cheeks nervously. Being caught, she just proceeded to stuff her face with food to fight the awkwardness. "I've had a crush on you since the say I saw you. Your little stutters really caught my eyes. Obviously you know I was but I never once felt differently treated by you, and I really liked that." That's the longest YN has heard him speak without his ehm's and uhh's stutters.
"I just really want to be selfish and cherish that for as long as I can to myself." He confessed, "I also don't mind if I'm seen with you or whatever. Honestly couldn't give two fucks about what people have to say anymore."
YN chuckled at the closing statement of his little vulnerable speech, "I like you too, Harry, really. You know I've been a fan of your music, so thank you for trusting me enough to let me a part of your life."
"I should be thank you," he corrected her, "for respecting my privacy anddd making this amazing food!" He finally took another bite of his food after his speech.
"You're very welcome Harry, just ring me up if you want to eat anything else. Anytime" YN said, "my friends call me up everytime anyway." She found it was better to subtly move the conversation to something else. It was going to be way too overwhelming for her, she had felt way too many emotions today to add more of her perspective on this. She could say that any other time, maybe tomorrow even, but not in that moment.
"Yeah? That's because you make really good food, love," he agreed with her friends there. "What time do you get off tomorrow?"
"I have early shift so..." she reminded and calculated her shift hours in her head for a moment, "I should be done by afternoon."
"So we can go after lunch then, yeah?" He suggested, "it won't be as crowded then, I guess."
"Works for me." She agreed. "Did I forget something?" She looked at the table confused.
"I don't know..." Harry shrugged.
"Oh, oh, the dessert!" She exclaimed, "how can I forget that?" She was already halfway in the kitchen licking her fingers, she pulled something out of the fridge and something off the country and managed to balance two Tupperware containers and two small bowls with a clean serving spoon to the table. "I made this last night before I went to and this is just store bought."
"What's that?" Harry was pretty curious.
"This is Rasgulla - or Rasgulle for plural - and Gulabjamun which I made." She pointed each dessert out, proudly. "Finally, got it right this time! These are too difficult to make for some reason for me."
"Oh, what's it made of?"
"Same ingredients surprisingly, paneer which is cottage cheese and a tiny bit of flour, one of it has got some dry fruits in it."
"Sounds amazing!" He mused.
......................................................................
After dinner and dessert (which Harry loved so much!), Harry helped YN with the dishes even though she told him not to. Turning on the TV and her pet fish's water filter on they both sat on the sofa watching the movie he picked. Harry Potter he chose.
"I've never seen these." YN confessed as she sat down in the corner placing a water bottle on the coffee table.
"You've never watched Harry Potter before?" He looked at her as if she killed his pet hamster.
"No..." She hesitated, "why?"
"How have you never watched Harry Potter?" He looked hurt, or acting to be hurt.
"I just never found it interesting enough." She admitted, "my elder brother sister are obsessed though, and so are all of my younger siblings." Yeah, she's always been the odd one out in her family. As the middle child that fit ber very well.
"You still want to watch it?" He asked, letting go of the teasing.
"Yeah, it's fine I can sit through the first one." She shrugged.
"No we're watching something else," he handed the remote, "pick something."
"Okay," she took it and played Spiderman: Far From Home. "Are you going to be in the next Eternals?" She spoke about halfway through the movie, now sat comfy with a throw blanket, her legs draped over Harry's with his hands warming up ber knee through the thick fabric of sweats, she leaned back with her elbow perched up on a pillow, her cheek smooshed against her knuckles.
"Yeah, we start filming next year." He shared, "though I'm not allowed to share this."
"It's okay, you're secrets are safe with me." She smiled, he smiled back watching TV.
God, he is just so pretty to look at!
She could die, he was that pretty. Honestly she wouldn't hesitate to obsess over him but she's way too much of a little coward to do so. Plus she thinks she would come out as weird especially considering he knows that she's been his fan since his solo career started. Maybe when they're comfortable enough with each other? Maybe a in a few weeks? Or months if they last? Or maybe when he finally says he wants her to be his girlfriend? Just too many maybes! Urgh!
He was made first of his mold she decided, even his side profile looked gorgeous. His lashes curling up to his brow bone, the straight slant of his pointed nose which she love how it dances as he talks. For the second time this night she found herself wanting so badly to kiss him. Even if on his dimpled cheek.
Harry felt her staring at him obviously, "love, you're staring."
"What? No, I'm not!" She was snapped out of her little admiring session, lying from the tip of tongue. She felt heat rush under her skin as be back to look at the TV watching Zendaya fight off the drones.
"I don't mind if you were." Harry teased her, and even though she wasn't looking at him anymore she could feel the smirk on his face through his voice. He laughed watching a red tint take over her complextion. "You look so pretty blushing!"
"Oh stop it!" She huffed whining making him laugh even more, she scooted to the corner pulling her knees close to her chest. "You're annoying!" Catching smirking at her short glance at him.
"Am I?" He tipped his head to side after he, "is it annoying that I find you pretty or me catching you staring at me, hm?" Her lips pressed in a thin line as she tried not to smile too much.
"You're annoying, in whole." She said, trying to get out of her embarrassment.
"Too late, sweetheart, we're already do dates in." He reminded her, "with a third one planned out. Can't back off now."
Fuck that hit her like bang!
She wasn't planning of backing off anytime soon. Not until he decides to otherwise. That melted her heart into a puddle.
"I wasn't planning to." She answered. He liked how she wasn't trying to hold back her smile. Searching her face he leaned in even closer.
"Yeah?" Harry sounded quite content with her answer, he reached for her hand carefully resting on her lap. "Gonna stay for as long as you feel fit?" His other hand cradled her face slipping down, stopped on her neck.
"Mhmm." She nodded, feeling heebie-jeebie inside as he brought hand upto his mouth to place a delicate kiss on her knuckles, feeling the pad of his thumb rub softly against her jaw.
God! Her heart is going to burst in her chest cavity!
"Is it okay if we kiss?" She found herself finally speaking up instead of humming.
"Absolutely it is, my love!" His voice somehow went deeper as he looked her dead in her eyes. Watching her lean in that much closer he pulled her in with his hand slipping further on the her neck.
There it was, his mouth pressed onto her her bottom lip tucked into his two. The little touch felt so soft and intimate when it all lasted for a second. He didn't pull away, she could still feel his nose skimming against her cheek. She took her shot and pressed her mouth on his again, this one lingering longer than the first one. Even more special as it dawned on her in a beautiful way he is the first person she ever kissed!
Harry felt her small hand warm on his cheek, making him take it a bit further but he kept to himself and followed her lead. When she broke away he pulled her in a bear hug.
"God, I missed you all week!" He confessed as if it weren't the first thing he said to her today.
"I missed to too," she reciprocated, she leaned into his warmth especially when he was being so welcoming of her. Harry was extra cuddly with his hoodie on and sweats and the fluffy throw blanket they shared.
Next thing YN knew annoying loud noise of her alarm went off, still feeling warm like it was some fever dream of hers. But her alarm went off suddenly as she felt a warm hand running up and down her back.
"Hey love, your alarm just went off." Deep raspy voice spoke to her snapping her out of her sleep. It was really Harry. YN found herself basically lied on top of him with the throw over both of them, the TV switched off. "Good morning!"
"Good morning," she spoke pulling herself unwillingly away from him. She was definitely way too comfortable in the setting. "I'm sorry I fell asleep on you."
"It's alright," he assured her, "did you had a good sleep." He watched her stretch like a tired little kitten as she yawned.
"Yeah, a little too well." She admitted making him chuckle, "did you?"
"Mhmm! Of course I did." He confessed to. "You're going to work this early?"
"No, I leave by seven," she shook her head trying to shake off sleep from her eyes.
"Yeah? I'll drop you off on my home, you can go get ready."
"Mhmm thank you." She smiled. God she didn't wanted to drive today! "You can sleep in more meanwhile if you want."
YN had shut the door behind her to her bathroom. Oh god, she really did let someone stay a night over at her place!?
She couldn't believe herself there. YN's always been protective of her personal space. Especially since was kid. Growing up she had many questions to answer to, where was she going? Why aas she going? Where was she if she was late? What was she doing if she was late? Does she have guy friends? When she closed her bedroom door for more than hour what was she doing inside? Did she directly went to school and came straight back home? Did she need money? Why does she need money when she was provided everything at home? And what not!
It wasn't just her, even her elder sister had to answer all the questions. She's sure her little sister has to answer those too now.
One thing YN's sure about is that her friends are going to be go haywire when they find out. About Harry. About this. Hell she hasn't even allowed them to stay over for night since she moved there.
How and why did she fell asleep on him? Especially after they kissed!
But none the less thinking about all this she found herself all ready for the day. She'd chosen same brown pants she wore on the first date and white button down shirt with a black jumper on top. She'll have to work in this today.
"Harry?"
"Hmm?" He turned around to look at her, he was answering some texts.
"I left you a new toothbrush and a towel in, in the bathroom if you wanted to, ehm, get freshen up." She stuttered.
"Mhmm thank you, love." He smiled. God how casual is he going to be about this?
She went to make herself tea and him a coffee, she made herself a quick breakfast wrap to take along whilst waiting for Harry. She couldn't believe last night happened!
She so badly wanted to tell her friends like they share their things with her. But she opted not to, whilst Alec can digest any and all secrets, Brielle finds it difficult though YN would argue she's the most respectful person she's ever met. She will have to tell them eventually or they're going to be upset, even though she isn't entitled to share of her personal life stuff but those are her friends. They've been with her since last fifteen years!
"Hey, are you ready?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, almost! Here's your coffee." She handed him a reusable thermos cup.
"Oh thank you," he smiled walking upto her to give her a warm hug, "you're still up for today?"
"Yeah," she nodded leaning into him for a moment, he placed a kiss on her head.
"I'll pick you up by 12?" He suggested earning another nod from her, "you alright love?"
"Yeah," she nodded assuring him, "yeah, I am."
"You've got the whole puppy face going on, What's wrong?" He pointed out, booping the tip of her nose with his pointer finger. He noticed she'd packed her breakfast and two small containers with the desserts they had last night.
"I'll tell you on the way?" She suggested.
"Mhmm," he nodded.
They both got into his car. He drove for a bit in silence halfway through, giving her the time she needs to speak.
"I haven't told my friends about us yet." She confessed.
"Why so, darling?" He asked, sounding a bit upset and taken back. Instantly there were questions flooding through his mind.
"One of my friends is like... I don't know how to say it in English." She chuckled to lighten up the mood her little confess got him into, "she just can't digest secrets, basically she loves to gossip. Whilst I don't mind her talking about us, even on accident to anyone I don't know if you'll be fine with that. I know you sort to talked about similar... thing with me last night. But both of my friends would go haywire if they find out from somewhere else. So I'm just thinking about how I should tell then, or if I should even tell them."
"There is no pressure love, I don't mind if she talks about us to anyone." He shrugged, "you can tell 'em if you don't mind."
"You're fine with that?" She asked, "I mean, I know her but you know she talks alot and stuff like that but she won't say a word on purpose and-"
"YN, calm down please." He interrupted her, "I don't care if anyone knows, really. We don't have to hide, it's like we're committing a huge crime. We like each other, right?" He glanced at her for an answer and mumbled a little yes! so he continued, "there's nothing to worry about."
"Okay." She squeaked, "that really put me at ease."
"And we're here," he stopped his car on the side of the road. "I'm glad about that, sweetheart."
She hummed, "please take a nap you still look very tired Harry." She pointed out, seeing bags under his eyes and sleep puffed face.
"I'll go to bed early tonight, don't worry." Harry assured her, "now would you gimme a kiss before you go?" He was already leaning over the center console closer to her waiting, without a word uttered she leaned in to press her mouth on his into a long indulging kiss just like last night, her hand rested on his cheek. Enough to hold him off until he sees her again in the afternoon. "Take care okay?"
"I will." She unbuckled her seat belt and got out, "my colleague's here." She saw her colleague opening the door to the cafe already, "nap Harry, okay?"
"Aye!" He chuckled at her little scolding. Waving she jogged her way inside.
......................................................................
"It's very pretty in here!" YN exclaimed quietly looking around the museum. Yeah, she's a huge history geek but this never peeked her interest to spend her time at a historical museum.
"But not more than you." He gave his cheeky little remark. "The exhibition is on the other side, bht we can walk around here if you want."
"Yeah, I want that." She agreed. They walked around looking at the busts made of marbles, a few paintings and national souvenirs displayed around. She shared the little facts she knows about little pieces herr and there with Harry before they decided to see his friend's art collection.
"Did you tell your friends?" Harry enquired. He held her her close with arm wrapped around her waist. He carried her bag for her just so he can have her close to him as they walked around.
"Yeah, I did. I saw both of them today." YN shared, "Brielle said she won't share this with anyone unless we want that. And Alec is going to be here, his sister has her own art collection displayed here today."
"Oh, we should check that out too!"
They walked around and met Harry's friend who was super nice. And also super talented. Their paintings displayed were very beautiful, though YN didn't understood the meaning behind each one, she's not that artistic she decided. But the pieces of art work were easy on eyes and calming in a way she has never been before, she'd buy one herself if they weren't started from the price of her flat alone. She'll stick to buying cheap affiliated ones from Amazon until she can afford a real one.
"I don't see Alec around." She shared with Harry, "oh there he is."
"Hello YN!" Alec greeted YN with a hug.
"Hiya!" YN exclaimed hugging him back. "Harry this is one of my best friend, Alec. And Alec you know Harry."
"Oh yes, Hello." Alec greeted Harry with a hug too. "I didn't know my best friend could be this sneaky about literally dating her celebrity crush."
Harry chuckled, "nice meet you, Alec."
"Oh and please come take a look at my sister's art work too." The blonde suggested and walked Harry and YN to the other side of the room. Least tk say she was baffled by Hadleigh's art display. They talked for a long time there.
Harry was sure approached by a couple of his fans whom he talked to, but they couldn't take pictures as it was allowed in the exhibition due to copyright issues from the artists present there. He was so grateful for that in the moment, subtly but he won't admit it because he loves meeting his fans but he also likes his privacy.
"Is Brielle going to come?" YN asked.
"She's stuck at work, you know her boss is arsehole." Alec rolled his eyes.
"Oh okay." YN nodded.
......................................................................
YN wanted to look around the museum for a little longer so of course Harry was going to agree. He's just going to look at her and listen to her random facts. Though it was way past the lunch time.
"Oh-uh!" She sighed.
"What's wrong?" Harry followed her gaze to find a little family looking at displays just two aisles away in the Egyptian section.
"That's my sister and her family." YN shared.
"Oh," was his initial reaction, "do you want to go talk to her?"
"I, uh, it's fine." YN shrugged.
"I don't want to assume but do you not talk to her?" He wondered.
"It's not that..." She trailed off, "it's complicated. It's not her it's my parents that I don't like to talk to, if she sees me on a date they're gonna know for sure. If she doesn't tell them her husband for sure will."
"Why would you not want them to know?"
"I- Harry please don't take it in a wrong way! I'll tell share it with you little by little, okay? I don't have the greatest relationship with my parents. I have- I can't talk about it all in one go, it's very hard for me. It's, it's difficult for me open up like you did." She shared stuttering through her talk, a glassy sheen took over her eyes. "There is a reason why I live alone."
"Hey, I'm sorry —"
"I need five minutes." She excused herself interrupting him walking towards the bathrooms, taking her bag from him.
YN honestly doesn't know how to navigate through stuff like this. All this time she's solely focused on herself and herself only. Not bothering to go out on dates and stuff until upto recently before walked into her work place for the first time. Now that she had the time she wanted to open herself to more experiences, but no one stayed more than a date or two. She went on dates with five different people four of them wanted just a one night stand and other one ghosted her after the second date.
Harry stayed. Giving her that tiny hope back. They became good friends first which was a cherry on top for her. Now all she wanted to do was not make him uncomfortable in any way, shape or form just because she doesn't trust people who are in her life much. Her parents would make her life even harder if they found out she's seeing someone, especially when she's living alone.
She didn't trusted her own sister whom she loves so much. Her sister knows who Harry is, and from the sixteen years she spent with her family and relatives she knows how these kinds of news spread faster than wild fires.
She felt so confused as to where to start unpacking all of this to him without making it feel like she was dumping it all on him at once. Sure she's not even trying a bit to hide anything from him, she just needs time.
YN couldn't help but feel she's making him upset and mad about her anxiousness. Not wanting to let her mind wonder and talk to her therapist about it (he's the only person who knew about her seeing Harry everyday since he first walked in) instead she blinked pushing her tears back.
It was just too hard for her to see her sister there after a good few years.
"You're okay!" She mumbled to herself washing her hands in the sink, "shut the fuck up! You're okay, you're okay! It's fine. Talk to him!" She was bringing herself together there, with that she headed back out to go to look for Harry.
"C'mon," is the first thing he said when he saw her and walked her out to go to his car all the while holding onto her hand in a gentle grip. "I'm really sorry, love." He started once he got in the driver's seat next to her. "I just didn't wanted to assume that you're not on good terms with your family. Whilst I want to know more about you, I know it's none of my business to intrude. So it's completely fine if you never want to talk about it."
"You clearly looked upset about it." She pointed out, "I wasn't meaning to hiding all of this I just don't want to deal with my family because I know they're going to make a huge fuss about it!"
"It did made me upset but I didn't know." He admitted, "I am really sorry about that lovie," and he carefully reached for her hand in her lap, "we don't have to tell anyone, okay? I'm not gonna question anything or get upset like I did— that was very naïve of me—, we can just go about our days without thinking about it."
"Okay." She nodded. "I'm sorry too. It wasn't you that I ran to bathroom."
"That's okay love." He assured her.
"Hmm."
"Let's go to Hyde park and have a little picnic, hm?" He suggested already pulling out of the basement car park of the museum. "Would you mind placing an online order at Subway or something?"
"Yeah," she nodded. "You want sandwiches?"
YN found a little restaurant which served a variety of sandwiches so she placed a order a couple of different ones, and a tall hot chocolate for herself — Harry said he didn't need a drink, was fine with just water — for them to take away on thier way to the impromptu picnic.
"Think Gemma left her picnic blanket in me car last time," Harry opened the boot of his car, "there it is!" He announced taking out a brown and beige gingham blanket.
They both walked further in towards the park, finding a place quiet enough. Harry layed out the blanket on the grass before they both sat down. Winter month, the sun was getting ready set at just half past four. There was awkward silence taking over between them now as they ate away their very late lunch.
"You want a bite?" YN offered.
"Yeah," he agreed taking a bjte from her sandwich. Finally something to talk about! "Mmm do you want to switch?"
"No!" She got defensive, "just one bite."
"Meanie," he squinted his eyes at her but failed ending up chuckling. He picked up her hot chocolate to take a sip.
"Hey!" She whined. "Be polite gimme a bite of your sandwich now!"
"Here," without any other word he offered her his sandwich. "What are you doing for Christmas?"
"I don't do anything on Christmas... Work I guess?" She said as if questioning how she spends her holidays.
"You're working on Christmas?" He couldn't believe her, "no way you're not!"
"But it's fun!" She whined, "and I kind of need to get some over time in," smiling sheepishly she took a bite of her food.
"Why so?"
"It's embarrassing, moving—"
"Now I definitely I wanna know," he pressed, teasing her.
"Oh god no," she sighed, "the car I bought. It was like an impulsive purchase due to some family drama." He laughed explaining, "some people were talking shit about my job."
"And that is so slay!" He exclaimed, "happy for you bestie!"
"Thank you bestie!"
"No but seriously, YN I need you to take the day off for me, please?" Harry looked at her with a puppy face. "Please?"
"Okay, Christmas is a month away. I'll see what I can do." YN agreed.
"Okay." He leaned in a pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead.
They both talked about literally nothing to Harry's new music. They scrolled through some memes on her Instagram. Least to say Harry wasn't surprised seeing his own memes on her explore page, that just showed how insanely funny his fans are to him.
"Wait? What was that?" He saw a video on her home which she swiftly scrolled by.
"No, it's embarrassing!" She whined when he took the device from her hand and scrolled back to the video. It was her friend, Alec's account he saw, he'd posted a few throw back pictures and videos. There was a video of YN, Alec and who he assumed must be Brielle singing. The ginger boy with a guitar and behind a keyboard as they sang Gorgeous by Taylor Swift.
"Huh? And you said you can't sing?" He scoffed confusedly.
"I literally can't."
"Look there is another one!"
"Oh my god, Harry!" YN tackled him to get her phone back knowing very well he's just trying to annoy her now. And he did just that going through her own account and checking her posts for the rest of their time outside.
N O T E:
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TW: NSFW, yandere!Izuku x Reader, noncon
"Wouldn't it be nice if we were older, than we wouldn't have to wait so long!"
You wake up with a jolt, eyelids heavy still as you let out a groan. The soft glow from the television is the only light source in the living room, windows also dark and telling that you've been asleep for a while. The rom-com playing was bright and rich of color, as the male protagonist realizes he still has a shot of love and returns to his female counterpart.
"Are you tired, we can turn it off and go to bed?" Izuku mumbles against your neck, where he laid behind you on the couch. Yet, his hands move from their place around your stomach to slip in your leggings, cupping your cunt and you feel like throwing up.
"Izuku," You're too tired to keep the bite out of your voice. "You promised you would watch the movie with me."
He groans, but alas his hands move to cup your stomach again, laying back down. "I don't know why you insisted on watching this one, you already know it by heart."
You don't answer him, instead choosing to ignore him and his stupid attitude to pay attention to your favorite part: the declaration.
"You erased me from your memories because you thought you were holding me back from having a full and happy life. But you made a mistake. Being with you is the only way I could have a full and happy life. You’re the girl of my dreams—and apparently, I’m the man of yours.”
The words make your heart squeeze, and the sweetness of the scene makes you stupidly tear up.
Growing up, you use to scrunch up your nose at the cheesiness of these movies. Rom-coms, chick-flicks, whatever you call the movies where boy meets girl, boy and girl fall in love, a falling out happens, than the declaration of love towards the end helps secure a happy ending... those types of films were the only thing keeping you sane.
What was it now? Seven months? The days blurred easily when you had no outside contact with the world anymore, Izuku making sure of that by keeping you trapped in his house. There were tears and sore throats from screaming at all hours of the day, disbelief making your senses sharp for any opportunity to outsmart Izuku and get the fuck out. But this was the number one hero you were up against, you never stood a chance.
So, you gave up too quickly for your liking but being angry and scared was just exhausting. Instead, you indulged yourself in these early 2000 movies where love could fix everything wrong and they lived happily ever after.
You weren't sure if you loved Izuku.
You knew you hated him, hated what he did to you and how he just chose to take you away from your life and force you into this new one with him and only him. But love? That feeling was harder to place.
He did force himself on you, making you feel good when you didn't want to and he made you moan his name like a prayer as he fucked you. That wasn't love, no, in the movies where the main characters have sex it's romantic and consensual. Yet, Izuku claims he loves you.
That would make sense, why would he do all that he's done if not for love?
Izuku was a collector, of All Might figurines, movies, books, and you found the box of items he took from you while he was courting: used underwear you hadn't seen in a while, a used tissue, and hundreds of photos of you living your life. It sickened you to find that, and no matter how much you begged for him to throw all of that out, Izuku wouldn't. He encouraged you to find a hobby, maybe look through his vast collection of movies and books to keep you occupied while he left and you stayed, not like you had a choice. That's where you saw them, your light in darkness, a reminder that true love exists: rom-coms.
Everyday, you'd watch as many as you could fit in the wee hours before Izuku came home from hero work. He liked confessions, he wanted to hear you praise him and say you love him, so you learned how to do so from the movies. Sure, the words you spoke sweetly to him weren't original, but they worked. You pretended you were in one of those films, and that Izuku and you were truly happy and in love and getting a happy ending. Right? You'll get your happy ending soon, this is just the climax where it gets bad before it turns good?
The ending scene is happening now, and the main characters kiss passionately on a boat in Alaska or maybe it's Antartica? It's an outrageous ending but you ache for that kind of life, where you're happy and in love and safe and-
"Okay, bedtime," Izuku said, sitting up and clicking off the TV the moment the end credits are shown. You groan in discomfort when he carries your body in his arms like you weigh nothing, your cheek squished against his hard chest.
No words were exchanged as Izuku undressed you, than himself, making your tired body sweaty and drenched in cum as the clock ticks and the night drags on.
Izuku grunts above you, where he slips in and out of your heat as you move higher up on the bed with each thrust. Your arms are loosely wrapped around the back of his neck, and you can't stand to look at him when he's moaning your name so breathlessly.
No, you have the stupid song stuck in your head from the movie to distract you from it all. Where you dream that one day, you'll get your happy ending.
Wouldn't it be nice if we could wake up,
In the morning when the day is new?
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ALICE IN WONDERLAND AU ♤ PART 5: NAMJOON
My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works
Pairing: Caterpillar!Namjoon x fem reader
Word count: 2,480
You had been running for quite some time and figured it was okay to walk for a few minutes and give your lower limbs a break—they were aching anyway. Never in your life had you ran so much in such a short amount of time. You never needed to.
Now walking at a relaxed pace, any thoughts you had about running away from the red knights were replaced with other thoughts. An endless list of unanswered inquiries swirled around your mind like a raging hurricane. One after another, more and more questions popped into your restless mind.
What's so special about you and why was everyone after you? You're just... you. Nothing extraordinary or special.
Everything you'd experienced thus far had felt too outlandish to be reality. You couldn't remember how many names Yoongi had mentioned. Six? Maybe seven, men liked you?
Ridiculous.
The tip of your shoe kicked at a rock, sending it rolling along the dirt path you were walking along. You didn't even know where you were going or what lied ahead. You were lost once again and this time you didn't have a feisty cat boy to help guide you.
You can't have run very far, but maybe you had gone far enough to put a little distance between you and the threat. Then again, you were unsure of how long Taehyung was able to keep those knights distracted. For all you knew, they could be hot on your trail.
As if the universe was playing a cruel trick on you, the sound of distant marching reached your ears.
Seriously? You sighed internally.
Breaking out into a sprint, you dashed down the dirt pathway to keep some separation between you and the hoard of knights. It was at that moment it dawned on you that you were leaving shoe prints in the dirt. With limited time to come up with a plan, you did the first thing that popped into your head which was to run into the cluster of plants to the right of the trail. Instead of continuing through the mushrooms and tall grass, you leapt over the path and into the lush greenery on the left, going that way instead, hoping your little trick would buy some extra time.
"Maybe that'll hold them back for a while." You spoke to yourself and took off into the thick growth of mushrooms and curly vines.
Your running never ceased no matter how bad your legs throbbed or your lungs burned, refusing to stop until you could no longer hear the perfectly synchronized marching.
You huffed and puffed for air, panting heavily and stumbling forward, as your knees were on the verge of giving out on you.
At that moment, you could hear someone's voice from somewhere up ahead. Whoever it was wasn't talking nor singing, but something in between. Every line he spoke came out in a rhythmic way that was pleasing to the ears. The words he uttered were done so eloquently and without any slip-ups. This man's voice was entrancing and pulled you towards it like a siren song.
Too enraptured by the stranger's mesmerizing voice and hypnotic words, you paid no attention to your surroundings and tripped over a tree root that had breached the ground.
"Ow." You grunted and sat up a little, rubbing your elbow where it had harshly collided with the dirt and grass during the tumble.
Surveying your surroundings, you found that you were in a clearing amongst the tall and unruly plants of Wonderland that you had been running through for what felt like hours.
"Stupid girl." You heard someone speak. Lifting your head, you spotted a man sitting in a fancy wingback chair made of rich blue velvet, a tall messily-stacked tower of books on the ground beside him. He was dressed sharply in a blue silk suit with a white cravat. Perched between his fingers was the mouthpiece of a hookah which sat beside the stack of books in the grass.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You should watch where you're going." He remarked, taking a puff from the hookah.
"Yeah well... people make mistakes." You huffed, getting up and dusting yourself off.
"Who are you?" The the man inquired, blowing smoke rings into the air.
"I'm Y/n."
"I know who you are."
"Then why did you ask?"
"You still didn't answer my question. Who are you?"
"I already told you."
"No. You didn't."
"Have you lost your mind?"
"I believe it's you that's lost your mind. You can't seem to remember your last visit here, can you?"
"How do you know that?"
"Silly girl. I know all."
"Well, if you know all then surely you know that I haven't the slightest idea who you are." Your arms crossed over your chest annoyedly.
You hadn't been in the presence of this man for more than a minute and he was already starting to grind your gears. Forget his pretty prose and rhythmic speaking.
"I'm Namjoon." He responded.
He seemed like a know-it-all, but you had to admit, he was very attractive. From his tanned skin to his sharp eyes and full lips. He was good-looking indeed, but his personality was ugly and undesirable.
"What's on your mind, baby?"
"What did you call me?"
"You heard me, baby." He punctuated the nickname this time.
The way he said it made your heart skip a beat. His voice dropped an octave and became breathier when he uttered the affectionate term.
You shook your head in an attempt to shake away the thoughts.
You hardly know this man, Y/n. You reeled yourself in. And he's rude.
"This is definitely a dream." You muttered under your breath lowly.
"What's that? You need to speak up, love."
So first it was stupid girl and now it's love?
"Nothing."
"Oh come on, sweetheart. You used to tell me everything."
"How should I know? I can't remember."
"Just trust me, Y/n."
Rolling your eyes, you dropped your arms at your sides, which up until that point had been crossed over your chest. "Is this a dream?"
"What do you think?" He questioned.
"I don't know. I've been back and forth with myself about that since I got here. For a while I thought it was a dream, but I was told it l wasn't. Everything is so strange and seems like a dream, but it feels very real. The emotions, the fear, the confusion. All of that seems real."
"Hm." He took a puff from the hookah and blew the smoke directly in your face. "What exactly makes you think this is all a dream?"
Coughing, you used your hand to fan the clouds away before speaking.
"Well, for one there was a giant beast searching for me. I've met a bunny hybrid, a man with a mysterious twin that no one has seen, a cat hybrid, and a hatter that's batty as ever. To top it all off, every single one of them have been fighting over me. That's what's really convincing me that this is all part of some bizarre fever dream."
"Silly girl." Namjoon chortled. "You really think you're not attractive enough for men to fight over? You think you're not desirable?"
"Not exactly. Four men fighting over you and kissing you all in one day is a bit unrealistic, is it not? I mean, it's almost as if I'm in a story or something."
Without a word, Namjoon stood up from his chair, taking long strides as he approached.
"That's where you're wrong." He whispered lowly, planting one hand on your waist. "You have no idea how entrancing you are."
As much as you wanted to speak, you were unable. Namjoon's charms had rendered you completely speechless and you were frozen in place.
"I can't believe you think so lowly of yourself." He murmured, tracing your jawline. "Oblivious girl."
You didn't have time to retaliate with a snarky comment as Namjoon leaned in closely, closing the gap between your faces.
Thinking you were about to be kissed for the third time that day, your body stiffened in preparation, but you never felt his lips on yours. Instead, he turned his head slightly and placed a gentle kiss on the outer corner of your mouth.
"Does it feel like a dream now?" He asked lowly, his breath fanning against the side of your face.
You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry.
"No." You barely managed to utter.
He pulled back and ran his thumb over your bottom lip, desire clouding his eyes.
"I really want to kiss you properly, but I'll save that for a later time."
As much as you wanted to ask what that was supposed to mean, you couldn't. His gentlemanly display of affection had your heart racing at a rapid pace. Everyone you'd met so far had kissed you in one way or another and you found it nice that Namjoon chose not to go directly for the lips like Yoongi and Taehyung had so boldly done earlier. It showed that he cared about you, even if only a little bit, putting your comfort over his desire to place his lips directly upon yours.
Namjoon could see the spaced-out expression on your face and chuckled softly, guiding you to his chair where he returned to his seat, patting his lap.
You were hesitant.
"Don't be shy." He beckoned.
You obliged, albeit awkwardly, and took a seat on his legs.
"I'd offer you another place to sit but as you can see, there is none."
"Right. Of course." You nodded.
It was a bit awkward just sitting there, especially in his lap, so you tried to come up with a topic to talk about.
"What exactly were you doing earlier before I showed up? Reciting poems?"
"You heard me?"
"I did. You sounded great."
"Really?" He asked, cracking a smile that showed off a charming set of dimples.
"I must admit, I was entranced. Your rhythmic way of speaking was almost hypnotic. It was like you were putting on a performance."
Your praises made a monsoon of affectionate emotions flood through him, his stomach filling with a flurry of butterflies.
"I love to read and if I find an excerpt or poem that speaks to me, I memorize it. I must have been practicing when you showed up."
"I suppose you have to find something to pass the time when you're sitting in the middle of nowhere." You joked.
"Actually, I do have a place of my own."
"You do?"
He let out a noise that sounded like a mix between a huff and scoff. "Well I certainly don't sleep here in this chair out in the open."
"Of course you don't. How ignorant of me." You commented, giving a playful roll of your eyes.
"You're starting to sound like me." He tittered.
Namjoon's attitude had changed a noticeable amount since first meeting him not too long ago. You quite liked this side of him. It was much better than the arrogant know-it-all that was grinding your gears earlier.
"Do you happen to know Taehyung, Yoongi, Jimin, and Jungkook?" You inquired.
"Of course I do. They're my friends."
"Then you know you've got some incredibly brave friends. They've been protecting me."
"From The Red King, right?"
"How did you—" You stopped mid-sentence.
"I know all." The both of you spoke in unison, laughing softly afterwards.
"I know about The Red King situation." He stated. "Word travels fast here."
"Taehyung said he sent Jungkook to get me and bring me to him so he could protect me."
"Taehyung? Protect you? That's hilarious." Namjoon laughed.
"Why?"
"I love him to death; he's one of my best friends, but he's a bit... irresponsible sometimes. He gets way ahead of himself and underestimates the situations he gets himself into."
"Ah. I see."
"If anyone can protect you, it's The White King."
"Yoongi mentioned him during an argument with Taehyung." You noted.
"Those two are arguing again? About what?"
"Again?" You echoed.
"They don't get along well." Namjoon sighed, visibly exasperated just talking about it. "So what was it this time?"
"This is embarrassing, but they were fighting about me."
"I should've known. You had mentioned something about men arguing over you, but I wasn't aware it was my own friends." He shook his head in disappointment. "Did they pull any moves on you?"
"Well—"
"Y/n?"
The sound of your name being called in the distance had you sitting up straighter, trying to figure out who it was. There was rustling in the plants, which meant someone was making their way towards you.
"Found her." Yoongi's voice was above you.
Glancing up, you saw the cat hybrid floating in the air, looking down at you from his suspended position in the atmosphere.
Taehyung then emerged from the tall plants, dusting off his silk robe.
"Thank goodness you're okay! I told you I'd look for you. Did I not?" He lifted his head, gasping when he saw the scene in front of him.
Taehyung was looking forward to finding you safe and sound, but what he didn't expect was to find you sitting in Namjoon's lap.
"Give me my Y/n back, Joon."
"She's not yours." He spoke sternly, wrapping his arm around your waist in a protective, maybe even possessive, manner.
"Do you like him, Y/n?" Yoongi questioned, crossing his arms as he returned to the ground.
You opened your mouth to speak, but Namjoon cut in before you could say a word.
"Leave her alone. The poor girl has been through enough today."
"C'mon, sweetheart." Yoongi held his hand out to you, silently beckoning you to come with him. "I can take you somewhere safe."
"No, come here." Taehyung extended his hand as well.
"She's not going with either of you. Taehyung, you're an idiot for thinking you could keep her safe." Namjoon spoke sharply.
"Excuse me?"
Yoongi snorted, causing Taehyung to shoot a sharp glare at him. The hybrid cleared his throat and was quick to wipe the grin off his face.
"Sorry." He muttered.
"It's the truth." Namjoon stated. "You get way too overzealous and think you can take on the world, but you can't. In fact, if Y/n stayed with you, she'd probably be locked up in The Red King's castle right now."
They all started arguing after that, shouting over one another and throwing insults left and right with no signs of stopping.
Not again.
"Guys, please don't start." You groaned, pulling Namjoon's arm off of you and getting to your feet.
Just like back at the tea party, none of them heard you, too engrossed in their own petty argument to listen.
Throughout all the commotion, you didn't even notice the sound of The Red King's knights marching straight towards you.
➯ Part 6: Hoseok
Masterlist ᝰ
DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way
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twinkle - ot7 x reader
epilogue
table of contents
masterlist
join the taglist
discord
summary: she had just wanted attention, that’s why she kept texting the strange number, updating him on everything in her life. little did she know how dangerous this relationship actually was. it had been jimin’s idea to kidnap the girl, but the ability to travel across the world to actually do it had been all hoseok’s doing. convenient how some things work, right? they knew that they were destined to have their baby with them, whether she wanted it or not.
tags/warnings: kidnapping, forced age regression, spanking, noncon, mafia au, drug use, stockholm syndrome, caregiver!bts, little!reader, nonsexual, diapers, panic attacks, fluff and angst, sickfic, referenced child abuse, unrequited love
taglist: @0funsite0, @frieschan
a/n: this chapter is more of a one-shot update i wrote 4-5 years after posting the first chapter
Ophelia was happy. All she knew was that she had her Daddies, and that she was finally safe. Those years of fending for herself were over, as she had seven caretaker tending to her every want and need.
She recently developed a very nasty and long cold. Daddies moved a mattress down into the living room so they could keep an eye on her. At least two of them, usually Seokjin and Jimin, would sleep on the couches, and sometimes Namjoon or Hoseok would sleep on the mattress with her.
Currently, Ophelia was laying down on the mattress, drinking a bottle full of juice and watching whatever anime Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung were watching. It was very rare that Ophelia ever got juice, and was savoring every second of the fruit punch taste. She played with the nipple of the bottle as she watched what appeared to be vampires on the TV fight with swords and magic.
"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" Jin walked over to Ophelia, already hearing the wheezing sounds from her nose before he even got next to her. Ophelia didn't reply, only staring back at Jin with watery eyes. "Oh, honey."
"You might have to take her to Jackson-hyung," Jimin spoke up, "poor thing's been wiping her nose all day and coughing more than usual."
"That's what I had planned," Jin replied, taking the bottle away from Ophelia and replacing it with a pacifier. "He arranged to meet us at his office at noon today to see Ophelia."
It was already 10:30, and the drive into Seoul would be just over an hour, so Seokjin had to get Ophelia ready quick. It would be him and Namjoon taking her to the hospital to see Doctor Jackson and get her sinus issues checked out.
Seokjin placed Ophelia on his hip, and she immediately buried her face in the crook of his neck.
"Bunny..." she mumbled, reaching a hand out towards Jungkook. Seokjin chuckled at how she was mimicking their nickname for Jungkook. She was just too adorable.
"No, no, baby. No bunny right now," Seokjin told the little, "We have to make sure you're healthy before you can have your bunny."
Ophelia pouted behind the pink pacifier in her mouth, and reached a hand out to Jungkook as Seokjin took her away. Jungkook playfully reached a hand out towards Ophelia in return, mimicking her sad pout as well.
Throughout the years, Jungkook and Ophelia grew a special bond. Jungkook was the youngest Daddy, who did more play than discipline. Ophelia liked the he treated her as an equal almost, and loved that he always took her side whenever she was in trouble. 'She's just a baby,' he would say, 'She doesn't know any better.'
Seokjin took Ophelia out to the car, where Namjoon was already waiting in the passenger seat. Seokjin placed the little in her carseat and strapped her in snug. In the front seat, Namjoon reached into the center console for her iPad, unlocking it and turning on the YouTube Kids app.
"Here you go, Lia," Namjoon said. After a minuscule moment of silence, Seokjin looked at Ophelia in the rearview window.
"Ophelia," the girl in question shot her head up with wide eyes. She wasn't used to being called her legal name, unless she was in trouble. "Daddy just gave you that to play with. What do you say?"
"Thank you, Daddy." Ophelia said, but from behind the pacifier it sounded more like 'Tank chu 'addy'.
The car ride was mild at best. The only noise was from the cutesy songs coming from Ophelia's iPad (as well as the voices of Russian children, a weird and new part of YouTube that Ophelia has explored). Namjoon and Seokjin caught each other up on Ophelia's symptoms so they were on the same page at her appointment. The car came to a stop outside of Seoul National University Hospital, and Ophelia began to fuss and become distressed at the sight of the building.
"Li li, it's okay," Namjoon said, turning around in his seat. "It's only for a few minutes, trust me."
Namjoon got out first and took Ophelia into his arms. He pulled her hood up as the breeze picked up, making the air slightly chilly. The three walked in through doors, and Lia was surprised to see very few people throughout the halls. She assumed the hospital would be filled with people and noise, but it was rather calming.
They eventually entered a room where a man in a white coat was standing near a door on the opposite side of the room.
"Jackson!" Seokjin smiled at the man, "It's so nice of you to do this for us."
"No problem at all," Jackson said, eventually locking eyes with Ophelia. She immediately turned to hide in Namjoon's shoulder, who only ran a hand through her hair in return.
"Oh my god, you guys. She is just the cutest thing," Jackson said in awe. He walked over to get a better look at Ophelia. "Hi, there. What's your name, sweetheart."
Ophelia attempted to nearly merge into Namjoon, wanting to get away from the stranger named Jackson. She didn't want to talk to him, see him, or let him touch her. He was scary.
"Someone's just a little shy," Namjoon said, patting Ophelia's diapered bum. "This is Ophelia."
Ophelia was sat on a cold hospital bed as Namjoon and Seokjin sat in the chairs next to her. She immediately reached out to be held by them, but Namjoon wasn't sure if she would be allowed on his lap during her examination. He reached a hand out to hold Ophelia's, and that seemed to calm her nerves enough.
"Okay, so I heard the little one has a bit of a sinus issue," Jackson said with a smile, "What exactly is she experiencing? A runny nose? Congestion?"
"She's had a constant runny nose, and every time she blows it there's blood and a lot of mucus. She also has been wheezing a lot, like she almost can't breathe through her nose with how congested she is." Seokjin looked over at the little, who was pulling her hoodie strings to hide her face in her hood.
"Oh, and she's had a major headache and cough, too." Namjoon added on.
Jackson hummed as he typed on his computer. "And how long has this been going on?"
"The runny nose? At least two months. The cough and headache just started recently." Namjoon replied as he reached out to pull the hood off from around Ophelia's face. She whined and kicked her feet in protest. Jackson seemed to pick up on her discomfort.
"How about you put her on your lap while I check her nose and such?"
Ophelia immediately reached out to be picked up by Namjoon. He held her on his lap while putting his hands over her's, forcing them to remain in her lap. Jackson approached them with a little black magnifying glass type device, and instructed Ophelia to stay 'extra super still' while he looked in her nose.
"Yup, it's definitely dry and inflamed. Nothing some nasal spray can't fix, thought." Jackson said, throwing away the tip of the tool.
Ophelia sat in her car seat sucking on the green apple lollipop Jackson had given her. She had a wide smile and giggled as they drove away.
"Well, baby, how about we get you some McDonald's for being so good?" Seokjin asked, already knowing the answer.
"MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS!" Namjoon chanted from the passenger side, causing Ophelia to giggle harder.
"Can we get Bunny McDonald's, too?"
"Of course we can, honey."
Ophelia had the best Daddies.
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