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sunlightmurdock · 8 months

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My Future in You | 2.5 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

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synopsis: Bradley’s twenty-two years old and not where he’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be out of the academy by now. Instead, he’s retaking his senior year of college and praying to god that he gets into flight school. Mav’s gone, his mom’s gone. He’s mad at the world. Then, a hook up at a Halloween party changes his future even more than he could have imagined.

warnings: accidental pregnancy, references to abortion in a few chapters, angst, will be fluff eventually, will be smut so 18+, enemies to lovers kinda thing, extreme inaccuracies on hospitals and the entire birthing process but this is fiction so we move. WC: 4.7k

…

Bradley spins the padlock, humming as he does, twisting the lock and pulling open his locker. That run was awful, his instructor has been breathing down his back and Bradley had fucked up two consecutive manoeuvres. He’s sweaty, and tired.

It’s nice out, though, and you’ve been so couped up recently that it’s driving you crazy. If he’s done early enough he could take you out. It’s the middle of summer, there are tons of properties not far that host drive-ins.

You’d probably like that.

He reaches for his bag first. Towel, clothes, soap — the necessities. Under that, is his phone, which he picks up absentmindedly, without checking. Immediately, it starts to buzz in his hand. He turns it over as he walks towards the showers, seeing an unknown number flash up on the screen.

Instinct tells him to answer. He taps the button and cautiously brings the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“There you are, you son of a bitch!”

Bradley blinks, frowning slightly. His stomach drops.

“Jake?”

“No, no! Don’t you dare fucking speak, where the hell are you?” Jake rants on the other end of the line. Bradley’s brows furrow as he plugs a finger into his ear to try to hear. He knows for a fact that Jake gets one call a week, and he hasn’t ever wasted that call on speaking to Bradley.

“What? — I’m at work, what’s going on?” About fifteen other pilots just piled into this room behind him, it’s hard to hear, even with the way your brother is screaming.

“My baby sister’s about to have your kid in your dumbass uncle’s car is what’s going on! — I’m so serious about this, Bradley, if you fucking let her down today, I will kill you — I promise you that I will actually—“

“Uncle? Jake, slow down, I’m grabbing my keys. Where the fuck is she?” Bradley turns on his heel and shoves his way back through the steam-filled locker room, pressing the phone closer to try to hear. It has been hours since he was able to check his phone and the thought makes his throat tight. He can’t think of how many times you would have tried to reach him, how scared you must be.

It’s the entire reason you’re here, away from everything you have ever known; so that he could be there for you. And he isn’t. He might have missed it. He could have let you down all over again.

“She’s on her way to Sacred Heart Hospital! Do you know how many fucking times she tried to call you?” Before Jake even gets to finish his second sentence, Bradley has started running, hoping that he doesn’t turn a corner and knock hot coffee into someone important.

Jake continues to rant on the other end of the line but Bradley’s far from even listening. All he can think of now is when he woke up the night after halloween and saw you laying in his bed, wrapped in his jersey. You had looked so comfortable that he hadn’t wanted to wake you.

On his run that morning, he had thought about it. If he had woken you. Asked you for your number, asked you on a date. He had thought about the way you had joked the night before and the instant connection. But then he came home and realized who you were. It was all downhill from there with the way he had treated you.

He should have just woken you that morning, asked you if you would go to dinner with him. There are so many things he would do differently now. He swallows as he climbs into the driver’s side of his truck and wraps a hand around the wheel just to notice how much he’s trembling now.

“Are you fucking listening to me?”

Bradley swallows, fumbling to get the key into the ignition and balance his phone between his ear and his cheek. “Look, Jake… I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you when I can.”

Jake starts to protest, but Bradley hangs up anyway. His heartbeat thuds in his ears as he backs out of the parking spot. August third. It hasn’t ever been important before, it will be every day for the rest of his life. It’s his son’s birthday.

Maverick winces at your bedside. He has been told by nurses six times now to just sit, that it could be a while before a doctor can see you. But, he won’t. He has been standing to the right side of your bed for over an hour now. He has been acting on autopilot, he barely even knows how he got you here. It’s the one thing that has kept him alive in his career so far, probably. Instinct.

He watches as you double forwards, gritting your teeth, whimpering in pain.

Bradley doesn’t have anybody, Maverick never had anybody. You’ve got two parents out there somewhere who are willing to let you go through this alone. He swallows softly at the thought and lifts his hand, brushing it tenderly over your head as he leans closer.

“It’s alright, you’re going to be just fine.” He says quietly. Your hand darts out and your fingers link between his, squeezing hard at his shaking hand. As much as he’s certain that your grip is going to bruise, he just exhales slowly and smooths his thumb over the back of your hand.

He didn’t even know your name this morning.

“Alright, Miss Seresin,” The snap of a surgical glove alerts the both of you, looking up quickly to see the smiling woman in the colourful scrubs entering the room. “My name is Lucy, I’m just here to do a quick check on how things are progressing. How does that sound?”

Still gritting your teeth, you’re too busy holding your breath and waiting for the pain to subside to answer her. Maverick makes a pained sound at your side, exhaling deeply as you finally let go of his hand.

“Mhm.” You manage out.

Lucy offers you a sympathetic smile as she pulls up a stool at the end of the bed. Maverick turns his attention towards the ceiling as she settles between your legs. You make a soft sound, closing your eyes. You wish that your mom was here holding your hand, rather than Bradley’s last standing family member.

“Okay, you’re still at six centimeters,” Lucy hums. You drop your head back against the pillow and groan in frustration. You’ve been at six centimeters for an hour and a half. Maverick squeezes your hand softly as Lucy grabs your chart from the end of the bed. “How would you rate your pain at the moment?”

“I don’t know. Does it get worse than this?” Your voice trembles as you speak. After sobbing hysterically into both Bradley’s voicemail and to Jake’s commander, begging him to put Jake on the phone, you’ve been doing your best not to cry again. It seems to make Maverick uncomfortable.

“Can you give her anything? — An epidural, or whatever?” Maverick presses.

Lucy presses her lips into a line as she pushes herself to her feet and sets the chart back into its place. She gives a small shake of her head. If she knew anything about Pete Mitchell, she would know that ‘no’ isn’t a word he often agrees with.

“Why not?” He urges, brows knitting together as he drops your hand and straightens up. You glance between him and her.

She sighs softly. “With pregnancies that have complications, we tend to advise against epidural. It could put more strain on his heart, we would have to monitor very closely.”

“So monitor it closely. If you’re so worried, why has she been sitting here for an hour on her own?” Maverick challenges her. Lucy looks towards you and wrings her hands together.

“Pete, stop.” You breathe out.

“I can get the doctor to discuss it with you. It’s still an option at this point, but—“

“I don’t want it.” Your answer is instant. It’s the most confident you’ve sounded all day. Maverick’s head whips around and for the first time, you catch sight of Bradley in his eyes. It’s not a genetic thing, just more of a temperament. All of those hours spent together, Bradley’s quizzical, developing mind. He’s been copying those mannerisms subconsciously since he was in the first grade.

“But—“

“I don’t want it. We’ll be just fine without it.” You decide calmly, smoothing your palms over your swollen stomach for one of the last times. Pete opens his mouth at your side, he almost argues with you, but he stops himself. This isn’t his kid, or even his family — Bradley has made that clear. So, pressing his lips together, he just nods.

Bradley can feel all of the eyes on him. Maybe it’s because he’s in uniform, maybe it’s because he is walking so fast that when he collided with a doctor two minutes ago, he knocked the poor guy straight on his ass and just kept walking. His eyes widen as he spots the reception desk finally.

“Seresin. My, uh — my girlfriend is having a baby. Her last name is Seresin, she should be here.” Bradley breathes out. The nurse looks up at him and smiles. She sees a lot of stressed out, first time dads. This isn’t unusual.

“Alright. What’s your name, honey?” She smiles.

“Bradley Bradshaw.”

“I’ll tell her you’re here, I’ll come get you as soon as she says it’s okay. Why don’t you get some water, just take a breath?” She reaches out and pats the hand that he has resting on top of the counter. Bradley swallows, managing to give her a stiff nod.

She’s gone for less than two minutes, but Bradley’s pounding heart just makes it feel like it’s an eternity. She can see it on his face when she walks back towards him that he’s terrified. So, she just offers him a smile and nods for him to follow her.

At first, Bradley doesn’t even notice that there’s anyone else in the room. All he sees is you, sitting up in the bed, your hair pulled back and tears in your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He rushes towards you. You whimper as he wraps you in his arms, grabbing onto him tightly. He leans down and kisses the top of your head. “Jake got through to me, I got here as soon as I could.”

“I was scared you wouldn’t make it in time.” You whisper into his chest. Bradley turns his head and kisses your temple, nodding. He opens his mouth to agree, and then takes notice of who is standing at the other side of your bed. His uncle. He hadn’t taken much notice of what Jake had said on the phone.

He stands up straight and stares, silent for a second. Maverick has learned by now to just keep his mouth shut.

“I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from my family.”

“Bradley, don’t. He got me here, he stayed with me.” You frown up at him. Bradley just stares over you, looking at the man who has let him down again and again for as long as they have known each other.

Maverick takes a slow step back, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I’ll go. I’m sorry. I’ll leave.”

“No, Mav—“

“I don’t want him here. He doesn’t need to be anywhere near—“

“I want him here.” You answer back, scowling up at your boyfriend. Of all the stupid arguments that the two of you have had, Bradley knows better than to pick a fight with someone who is in active labour.

Even so, Maverick has spent more than two decades going against Bradley’s wishes. Making him eat his vegetables, refusing to let him drop out of little league, almost ruining his career. He needs to give his nephew some leeway here, if this is going to work.

“I could go to your place. Get you some things, give you two a minute. I’ll come back, sit in the waiting room. If you want me, I’ll be right outside.”

“No.” Bradley deadpans. You shoot him a look, then turn to offer Pete a small smile.

“Can I text you a list? I have it all written on my phone.”

Maverick nods. He still has your keys from earlier, and honestly, he’s grateful to be out from Bradley’s glare once he leaves the room. You’re grateful that you aren’t going to have the two of them fighting while you’re trying to do this.

Bradley’s scowl fades once he’s certain that Maverick is far enough away. He turns around and perches on the side of your bed, draping his arm around your shoulders and kissing the top of your head.

“How are you feeling? — Did they give you anything for the pain, yet?” He asks softly, smoothing his free hand tenderly over your stomach. You scrunch your nose slightly and turn to frown at him.

“No — Bradley, you smell disgusting.”

He stares back at you, blinking slowly. “Honey, I ran a red light to get here. Showering wasn’t my top priority.”

“No, I know, but — could you maybe put your arm down?”

His mouth twitches, giving an amused shake of his head as he unwraps his arm from around you. He entwines his fingers with yours instead, giving your hand a soft squeeze. “What do you mean they haven’t given you anything? — Do you want me to talk to someone?”

“No, no. I can’t have an epidural, it would put him at risk. I’m going to do it without.” You’re quiet as you explain it, just waiting for Bradley to freak out like Maverick had wanted to. He’s quiet for a minute. You brace yourself.

He strokes his thumb softly along the fabric of the hospital gown. It takes him a minute to finally lift his head and look you in the eye. He exhales slowly.

“You’re sure?”

“You couldn’t change my mind if you tr— ah.” You wince, sitting bolt upright and holding your breath. Bradley barely even notices you squeezing his hand. He feels sick, watching the way your entire body goes rigid with the pain. He has read that this can take like eight hours the first time, and he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to sit through eight hours of watching you suffer like this.

That being said, there’s nothing he can do but be here. An hour later, he’s already on the verge of tearing his hair out as silent tears roll down your cheeks while you sip on water. He has suggested the epidural twice more since your first conversation, you’ve refused it twice.

The contractions are more regular now. You’re trying to keep him calm, knowing that he’s freaking out even more than you are, but they’re close enough together now that you haven’t spoken in a while. You knew this was going to hurt, but the last ten minutes have been agony.

“Okay, Miss Seresin, just here for another quick check.” Lucy strolls back into the room smiling again, shooting a quick look to the new man standing at your bedside. Bradley glances between you and her, fighting to ask her where the hell she has been. She sits between your legs once more. You sigh in discomfort. The thing about not having an epidural — you can feel everything. “Oh.”

Bradley looks at her. “Oh?”

“She, uh — We’re just about there. That was fast, you’re sure this is your first?” Her smile has faded for the first time. You stare at her face. She looks scared. You feel like you’re going to throw up.

“She’d notice if it wasn’t, wouldn’t she?” Bradley bites. You swing your arm out and smack him in the stomach. Lucy stands up quickly.

“I’m going to grab the doctor.”

You’re quiet as she hurries off, turning your head and looking up at Bradley. He watches your lip tremble and reaches out instinctively, stroking gently at your cheek. He wipes a salty tear from your skin.

“She looked worried.” You whisper to him.

He leans down, pressing a slow, soft kiss to your mouth as he squeezes your hand. “You’ve got this. You’re going to be just fine. This whole time, you’ve been so strong. Just a little longer.”

Squeezing his hand, you lean closer and rest your face against his arm.

“I’m so fucking scared.”

“Nothing’s going to happen, to either one of you.” Bradley kisses the top of your head, his eyes sting. He closes them and inhales the familiar scent of your hair. There’s no way in hell he’s going to cry in front of you. “Just a little longer and he’s going to be here, this is all going to be worth it.”

He doesn’t know that for sure, there’s no way that he can, but it’s enough for you to believe it. Besides, there isn’t a lot of time to be caught up in the fear. Once pushing starts, there’s only one thing on your mind and that’s getting this over and done with.

Bradley isn’t sure what he was expecting labour to be like, but he wasn’t expecting so many people. There are six people in this room and Bradley isn’t sure exactly what any of them are here for specifically. His main focus is you.

Each time you push, your body goes tense, you grit your teeth and you hold your breath. He’s sure that you’re going to pass out any minute now.

“Okay, another big one. You’re doing great.” The doctor instructs. Bradley shoots him a furious look. A nurse at your side is quick to rub your shoulder and tell you to breathe. He leans in close and kisses the top of your head. Once again, you grit your teeth and push hard. Bradley feels like he can’t breathe himself.

This time, you don’t hold your breath. Instead, it’s all forced out of your lungs at once as you scream out, digging your nails into Bradley’s palm, hot tears spilling onto your cheeks. The second that you’re done screaming, there’s no getting your breath back. You inhale too fast and sob back out an exhale. Again and again as the nurse at your side tells you to slow down.

“Alright, and again.” The doctor sighs.

Your eyes flicker to him, and Bradley snaps. He can’t stand the pain in your expression, and he can’t stand that doctor’s fucking tone. “Again? — She needs a break. She can’t go again.”

The abundantly calm older lady between your legs simply lifts her head and looks up at him through her glasses. She has been delivering babies longer than either one of you has been alive. “Son, there’s no time for a break right now. This baby’s coming. Rather than yelling at me, focus on her.”

Bradley’s jaw ticks as he settles in closer and brings your knuckles up to rest against his lips. He winces, blinking back tears as you have to go through another tough push. Your head falls back against the pillows in a moment of brief respite.

He studies your face for a second. Up until this exact moment in time, as he’s wiping tears from your cheeks with his free hand, Bradley had seen the two of you maybe having another kid. Right now, he’s certain that he’ll never put you through any of this again.

“You must hate me right now.” He whispers, giving a soft shake of his head. Honestly, he doesn’t really expect you to answer. He barely expects you to hear him. He definitely doesn’t expect you to laugh.

Your face is hot, and blotchy with tears. Your entire body is exhausted and trembling, and you’re laughing at him. Sniffling, you blink through the tears, “I’ve hated you more than I do right now, it’s okay.”

He can’t help but smile, brushing a few strands of hair back off of your face, then leaning in to kiss your forehead. “I’ve been thinking a lot, about the future, and about our family—“

“Don’t you dare fucking propose to me right now, Bradley. Don’t.” You growl. The nurse at your side just can’t hold it in. Bradley frowns at her as she giggles and rubs soothingly at your back. He kisses your knuckles and closes his mouth.

You’re right. He’ll finish that speech another time.

“Here’s his head.”

Bradley looks swiftly away and stares at the ceiling. The death-grip that you’ve got on his hand is the least of his worries. The thought alone is enough to make him dizzy. Jake’s going to kill him if he passes out. He inhales slowly through his nose and leans in again, resting his forehead against your temple as you cry out.

“There we go, that’s perfect. Keep going, he’s almost here.” The doctor’s tone never lifts above a breezy cadence. She’s beyond cool, finally glancing up to offer you a small smile.

He sticks to your side, kissing your temple. Your chest heaves. There’s not long to go, you’re almost done. But, the end is the worst. It really does feel like you’re going to black out. You don’t know how people have been doing this for so long, or why some of them choose to have so many kids after this pain.

You half expect to give up, to break down crying and begging for your mother before it’s all done. You’re right on the verge, whimpering into the sleeve of Bradley’s flight suit. And then, it’s over. The doctor exhales deeply and hums.

He takes his first big inhale and promptly wails into the air.

The doctor has him in her hands when she looks up and catches sight of the two of you before her. You’re clinging onto his hand and he’s pressing as close to you as he can without crawling into the bed. There’s a fearful, awestruck look plastered across both of your faces as you stare in the direction of the scream.

She smiles at the two of you. You’re going to be just fine.

“Would you like to cut the cord?” The doctor asks Bradley calmly. He regrets yelling at her now, but she doesn’t seem to be holding a grudge.

Bradley blinks, then shakes his head. “No, I don’t want to hurt him.

She chuckles, then shakes her head. “You won’t.”

He does as instructed, rolling his sleeves up, and quickly cleaning his hands and arms. He’s the first one that gets a look. As he sets the scissors back down, he turns his head towards you with a look on his face that you haven’t seen before.

Blinking back tears, Bradley smiles softly at you. And then he’s all yours. They set the baby down on your chest, starting to clean and dry him off right away. Bradley moves to your side once again, brushing your hair back off of your forehead.

Still wailing, you whimper quietly as you stare down at the infant. Ten fingers, ten toes, a good set of lungs on him. Bradley’s lips press softly to your forehead as you reach out, hands trembling, and trail your fingers featherlight along the length of his spine.

His plush, pink lips tremble as the wailing starts to subside. Bradley strokes tenderly at the nape of your neck with his thumb, rendered silent as he watches you with him.

“Hi,” You breathe out, hugging the towel closer to him. You inhale deeply, then exhale through your nose. A nurse smiles as she reaches around you to place the soft knit hat on top of his head. He’s warm enough now, you want to keep it that way. “Hi, baby boy.”

Bradley swallows the lump in his throat. Four and a half hours of labour without any tears. Twelve seconds of watching you with your baby and hot tears are stinging his eyes.

You get five minutes with him before they have to check his vitals, his weight, his height. As much as your arms feel empty without him there, you want those results. You want him to be fine. You want to see him in that bassinet beside your bed tomorrow night.

Blinking, you look up at Bradley. He scoffs as your mouth falls open.

“Allergies.” He mumbles, crouching down to kiss your mouth as tears dampen his cheeks. You reach up and wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, turning your face into his neck. You feel him relax into your touch. He kisses your shoulder, sniffling.

Both of you let it be quiet for a moment. You won’t be getting a lot of that once you’re at home, not with that boy’s vocal chords.

“Thank you,” Bradley mumbles into the crook of your neck. He pulls back from the hug just slightly, brushing the backs of his fingers along your cheek. He sighs, then nods seriously. “Thank you.”

“Just don’t ask me to do it again.” You joke, watching his tearful face shift into a grin. He sits forwards and kisses you. You close your eyes as he trails his fingertips along your arms.

“I’m serious,” He tells you softly, watching you blink tiredly. “I’d have nothing if it wasn’t for you. I was bitter and mean, and you were way too nice to me. It’s because of you that we have him. I’m so, so grateful.”

Your lips quirk up into a soft smile. If Jake could hear some of this, he would probably start to like Bradley again.

Exhaustion starts to set in, but there’s no time to sleep when there are doctors and nurses fussing over you, and then he’s being bundled back into you again.

Your eyelids are heavy as you turn your head and look over at Bradley, sitting in the chair beside your bed. His flight suit is tied around his waist and his t-shirt is draped over the back of the chair. Your baby looks tiny nestled into his arms.

You fight to keep awake as your always calm doctor walks into the room once again and sits down between the two of you.

“Seventeen inches, four pounds and ten ounces. Congratulations.” She tells the two of you with a small smile. Bradley doesn’t look up at her, smoothing his fingertips through the soft, dark hair on your son’s head. She looks at you, then at Bradley. “He’s strong. He’s doing well. We’re going to move you to the neonatal intensive care unit so that we can keep an eye on his feedings. We need to get that weight up, keep him warm. But, I’m not concerned.”

You swallow softly. “The tests and everything… he looked okay?”

She stands up and takes two small steps towards you. She rests her hand softly on your forearm, giving you a sincere nod. “Aside from his weight, he’s perfect. Does he have a name?”

Bradley finally lifts his head and looks, offering you a small smile. You wipe the tears from your cheeks and nod at her. “His name’s Thomas.”

It breaks your heart when it’s time for him to go. The thought of him being without you on that ward. Bradley holds you while you cry, and truthfully, he feels like crying too. It’s been a long day. You’re all emotional.

He stays with you until you fall asleep. Then, half-awake himself, he heads off to see your son. It’s the first night that he gets to say goodnight to the both of you.

Bradley stops as he closes the door to your room behind him. He stares at the man asleep in the waiting area, drooling on his hand as it props his chin up. He knew Mav had gotten here a while ago, someone had brought the bag in. Bradley just figured he would have gone home by now. Exhaling slowly, he clenches and unclenches his fists at his sides.

“Mav?”

The older pilot startles awake, blue eyes wide and blinking quickly as he tries to figure out where he is. It takes him a moment to figure out who is in front of him. Tall, flight-suit, mustache. Maverick feels the lump in his throat grow as he realises that it isn’t his best friend.

He looks Bradley up and down. He looks older now than he did a few hours ago, not just because he’s tired. Because Maverick isn’t looking at a little boy anymore.

“There’s someone you probably want to meet, huh?”

…

tags: @chaoticweirdogeek @alanadetigy @itsmytimetoodream @oldnatgwenaccount @khaylin27 @bioodforbiood @luckyladycreator2 @mizzzpink @cherrycola27 @unordinare @shanimallina87 @heli991113 @ghxst-heart @momc95 @asteria33 @lilyevanswhore @diamond-3 @galaxy-moon @jostyriggslover96 @forgiveliv @shawnsblue @little-wiseone @lovemesomevesey @alm33 @averyhotchner @diorrfairy @thedroneranger @batdanceq @wkndwlff @cassiemitchell @himbos-on-ice @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @slutford

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #jake seresin #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut #my future in you #bradley bradshaw x reader

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devilishchaos · 7 months

Note

BABYYY drop the daddy Ruben fic, don't be shy <3

Calls | Dad!Rúben Dias imagine

Rating / genre: pure fluff

Pairings: Reader x Rúben Dias

Summary: Rúben goes on a business trip. Me and our son George are sad he is away, so we face time him.

Warnings: use of pet names "babe", "baby"

Word Count: 1 347 words

This is a work of fiction. The story, names, characters and incidents either are product or the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

While begging my husband to go on this 3 day business trip, I thought to myself "What can happen in the span of 3 days, right?" Well, a lot.

I'm currently 27 weeks pregnant with twins and have a year and a half year old baby-toddler that needs my attention 24/7. Not that I am complaining but the pregnancy alone is being hard on me and my beautiful son throwing constant tantrums about missing his dad doesn't help my situation. Now, I was usually the preferred parent, but George had the tendency to not want to eat and nap while Rúben was away.

Today was going to be a long and hard day for me, I just knew it. I woke up from my nap at 7:00 am, got ready and headed to wake George up because I had an appointment with my OBGYN in an hour and had no one to look after him while I was gone, so I had to take him with me.

It was a battle but I somehow managed to get him ready for the day, made it to my appointment safely and on time and both of us were back in the coziness of our household before we knew it.

The moment we stepped through the door - the nausea hit me. And my head started spinning. I somehow made it to the bedroom and laid down on the bed and tried to take deep breaths in hopes for it to go away faster. I closed your eyes for a second and out of nowhere a loud cry pierced the silence.

With eyes wide open, all my senses on alert, I sat up in the bed and looked at the door to see George standing there, tears falling from his eyes and his tiny hands holding his favorite stuffed animal close to his chest.

"What happened baby? Are you okay?" I asked, holding out my hands in his direction.

"Dada.." he managed to say in between wheezing.

I gave him a sad knowing look. Ever since he was born he was a mama's boy but ever since I got pregnant again he looked up to Rúben more and more, and wanted to do everything that he was doing whether it was directed towards me or other people. And Rúben was the happiest person on earth, soaking in every moment because he knew that it could be taken away from him just as fast as it came.

"You miss daddy, huh bud?" I softly asked as I helped him get up on the bed to join me.

He nodded, the movement making his tiny curls shake a little.

"How about we call him? Would that make you feel better?"

"Yeah.." George mumbled, while wiping his eyes.

I was already reaching for my phone before I got an answer from him. Since Rúben is in New York and we are in Manchester there is a 5 hour time difference, but it was now way after noon in Manchester and knowing Rúben, he had been awake for some time, so that's why I suggested calling him. Okay and maybe because I miss him too and want to talk to him, but that's another topic.

I dialed his contact and gave George the phone. After two rings I saw Rúben's gorgeous face and he saw a head full of curls and two big dark eyes watching closely the screen, since George held the phone so close to him.

"Hey, gorg-" your husband started "-oh, hello big man. What are you doing with mama's phone?" you saw him smiling widly.

"Dada, miss you." George said and started crying again.

"Oh, no. Don't cry buddy. I miss you so much too."

"Home."

"I'm coming home tomorrow, baby and I'm not going anywhere after that, okay?" Rúben asked as a sad smile made its way on his face.

"Home now?" George asked as he tilted his head slightly the exact same way Rúben does and it made your heart throb.

"I wish buddy, but I have one more thing to do and then I promise I'm gonna catch the first flight back home and I'm coming straight to you. But I need you to do something for me, okay. You have to eat lunch and dinner, and you have to go to sleep when mommy says. Can you do that for me? That way I'm going to come home faster. Do we have a deal, G?" Rúben asked, slightly raising his eyebrows.

"A deal.." his son responded while rubbing his eye "Now play."

"Okay, you can go and play now. Loves you." your husband said as he leaned into the camera and kissed it, your guys's little tradition that now George did too.

"Loves you." George said cutely and kissed your front camera. He gave you the phone and ran out of your bedroom and into his playroom.

I took the phone and positioned it against my big water bottle in front of me as I greeted my hansome husband "Hi, meu amor."

"Hey, mama. How are you holding up? Big man giving you a hard time?" Rúben asked you giving you sad eyes.

"He just misses you." I exhaled "Nothing changed after the call yesterday, we're going to see what happens today. I miss you too, tho. We miss you too." I simply explained rubbing my round belly.

"I'm sorry babe. I miss all of you. Can't wait to be back home. I'm never leaving again." he shook his head as to make it more believable.

"Rúben, we talked about this. What you're doing right now is for your career and for us. So that you can take more time off while the twins come, just as you did when we welcomed George. Don't feel guilty, you're not doing anything wrong, babe. We'll get through this. We have to. In fact it's almost over." I smiled at him trying to lighten the mood.

"This is why I made you my wife. Eu te amo muito." Rúben said looking lovingly at the screen in front of him.

"I love you more."

"Period." he said while snapping his fingers, which made both of you to start giggling.

"Stop. I'm gonna pee my pants!" I said in between laughing.

"Okay, okay. So how did the appointment go? Everything alright?" Rúben's face went completely serious in a spare of seconds.

"Yes. Babies are doing just fine." I said and took a breathing break "I however, am struggling. Babe, I'm 27 weeks into this pregnancy and do you know what my doctor told me? That I'm measuring full term compared to a singleton pregnancy. That's very overwhelming considering that I hopefully have 8 or 9, 10 weeks left in the absolute ideal case scenario. And technically I am still 6 months pregnant. At the very end of my 6th month. Can you believe this?" I looked at him with a questioning face.

Rúben's eyes went wide "Wow."

"Wow indeed. I mean..that's what I get for having children with a freaking giant, I guess."

"Hey. You looooove this giant. And the babies that you both made." Rúben winked at me, eyes going soft and a smile appearing on his lips "Everything will be okay. Just try not to overwork yourself. And no, I'm not saying don't do nothing and just lay in bed all day. But you are very pregnant and are taking care of a fussy baby-toddler. Please, just take it easy while I'm away. When I come back it will be different."

"I'm gonna try my best. Now I have to go to make a snack because I'm starving and you have work to do. So talk to you later. You also take it easy, okay." I lovingly smiled at him, damn I can't wait for it to be tomorrow already.

"Alright, talk to you later. Loves you."

"Loves you." both of us said at the same time, smiling at each other, leaning in and kissing the front cameras on our phones, sharing a virtual kiss and ending the call.

#ruben dias #ruben gato dias #ruben dias fic #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias imagines #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias x you #ruben dias x y/n #ruben dias fluff #football imagine #football imagines

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hells-plaid-angel · 4 months

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Dean had the lung capacity of a deep-sea diver. After years of holding his breath as he drove through tunnels, he'd honed the skill, only gasping for breath when the Impala's windshield broke through the darkness and into the light. The habit had formed as a child but lingered into adulthood as most childhood fantasies did.

As a boy, his father raised him on superstition. If you made a wish when the world was swallowed by blackness and you could hold your breath until the end of a tunnel, that wish would come true. Over the years he'd wished for a hundred stupid things. He'd wished his mother was still alive, that he lived a normal life or that a pretty girl would look his way. He'd wished his father had been the one who'd died in the fire. He wished he didn't feel that way.

Once Dean had blacked out in the backseat of the Impala when driving the I-90 through Boston. He'd come to with Sammy squealing like a stuck pig and John Winchester cursing like a sailor. For the next year, being in Massachusetts made him feel light-headed.

Kids and old men are similar in their love of rituals. Dean was no longer a child, but he wasn't ready to call himself an old man. The ritual had changed over the years, but at its heart, it was always the same.

Dean found his new ritual each night he woke from a nightmare. That night, he found himself in the bunker. The image of his hands covered in blood lingered in the darkness of the room. He held his breath wishing for the dream not to be true. He only breathed when he switched on the lights and found his hands clean. In his dreams, Cas was always dying.

The nightmares weren't helped by the fact that the angel had died, numerous times. His sleep-addled mind took time to sort fact from fiction. Had Cas come back this time?

Dean Winchester knew better than anybody that death didn't always stick. Dean Winchester knew better than anybody that the universe liked to make him suffer. Both statements were equally true.

In the nightmare, Cas had died in his arms. He'd awoken, held his breath, switched on the lights and choked out a breath, which sounded suspiciously like a sob. When the drowning feeling reseeded he found himself exiting his bedroom, searching for the object of his nightmares as a drowning man searches for land.

Dean would never admit to himself he was looking for Cas, but the knowledge was there. There were many things Dean knew but wasn't ready to admit.

Dean found the angel in the library of the bunker, absentmindedly flicking through ancient texts and Sam's collection of trashy fitness and lifestyle magazines indiscriminately. A heavy weight on his chest dissipated. Cas looked up at Dean's sharp inhale. He could breathe again.

"Hello, Dean," the angel greeted, as though he were late to some prearranged meeting.

"Morning, Cas," Dean spoke, for lack of a better topic of conversation. He collapsed into the seat beside Cas.

"It's currently 3:15 a.m. and the sun isn't scheduled to rise until 5:25."

"Thanks for the weather report, buddy," Dean griped. His tone lacked the usual exasperated edge he used when Cas said something that struck him as particularly alien, which was often.

"How are you, Dean? You seem... unmoored."

People in the twenty-first century didn't use words like 'unmoored'. Dean knew exactly what Cas wasn't saying. Dean seemed upset. If there was one thing Dean didn't cope well with, it was being anything less than 'fine'. They were experts in each other's pathology, which would always feel strange. Dean wasn't used to being known.

"Can we talk about something else?" Dean had been working on the concept of denial. However, avoidance was fair game.

"If I'm going to be staying here long term, I want to buy better magazines," Cas stated, tossing the magazine haphazardly. He'd been staying for longer than usual. Dean kept feeling like he was holding his breath, waiting for the angel to disappear.

"We can drive into town come morning. Need to clear my head anyway."

"You haven't been sleeping well," Cas observed, his eyes shifting their attention to Dean. The blue-grey eyes said more than his words. His eyes were an ocean to an inexperienced swimmer. Not everyone could read them. Dean could. There was something more to them. A strong rip beneath steady water. There was a storm raging beneath the surface.

"It's creepy that you've noticed that," Dean remarked.

"You haven't been very quiet."

Dean wondered how much Cas heard. Did he talk in his sleep? Did he call out Cas' name in the night? Had the angel heard the moments of weakness where Dean had let himself muffle sobs behind his hand?

"This isn't changing the subject."

"I've been changing the subject all week. Evidently, it's not working," Cas' voice was resolute.

He and Dean shared their stubbornness, which always led to unproductive stalemates. They were two bucks with their antlers interlocked, starving and trapped in their own idiocy.

"The thing about being human, Cas, is that things don't magically just get fixed because you want them to." Dean rebuked.

"I'm aware, but have you actually tried to fix it?"

They were fighting. Why were they fighting?

"Talking never really solved much in my line of work. You know that."

"Is this about work?" Cas questioned.

They hadn't had any difficult hunts in weeks. Cas knew it wasn't about the job. He wanted Dean to know he knew.

"It doesn't matter what it's about. That's not the point. You don't get it." Dean felt the truth pushing its way up to the surface.

"Then help me understand."

"The problem —." Dean began before he felt anger or frustration choke the words from him.

"The problem is you keep dying."

He'd expected Cas to baulk at the confession. Dean wasn't one for sharing fears or feelings. What he hadn't expected was the look of horror that settled on the angel's face.

Dean scowled and scrubbed at his cheek, quietly cursing himself when his palm pulled back wet. Over the years, he'd gotten good at crying quietly. He hated that he was able to hide it from himself. Men didn't cry. Dean didn't cry. It was a lie, not so much a superstition, but a fable. A story he told himself.

"Dean I — I didn't realise my death... affected you so much. I apologise for the oversight," Cas spoke slowly, as though deliberately choosing each word with care.

How the hell could Cas not know his death, every goddamn one, hurt Dean? Cas was family.

"Yeah, well, I pegged you for a lot of things, Cas. Stupid wasn't one of 'em. So just... Be careful. I'm going to bed," Dean mumbled, praying for a quick exit.

Cas grabbed Dean's arm as he passed, stilling him. Dean felt the restriction return to his throat. He held his breath. He wished Cas knew what he meant without having to say it out loud.

Neither man spoke. The silence stretched long and loud between them. Cas clung to Dean's arm like a dying man to a life raft. For his part, Dean was just trying to stay afloat. Slowly, almost imperceptibly so, Cas' palm slid down to hold Dean's hand. Dean let him, which was as good as a confession.

There would be no confessions. A confession implied guilt, something that Dean had in droves, but not about Cas. It wasn't a lie so much as it was a fable. If a story was told long enough it became history.

He and Cas were still in the dark, biding time between apocalypses. He wished that when they finally found themselves in brighter times, there would be no need for confessions.

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boombox-fuckboy · 6 months

Note

Hey!!! You commented on my post about limetown haha which is why I’m here. You offered to give podcast recs! What are your favorites?? I’m looking for some new ones

I completely forgot I had this ask, excuse the delay. Here's a selection of 30 podcasts I enjoyed from a broad range of genres: hopefully at least one appeals.

Let me know if you're after something more specific.

Arden: (Investigative, Comedy) On the 25th of December, 2007, heiress and young actress Julie Capsom crashed her car into a tree and fled into a nearby forest clearing, leaving a trail that seemingly vanished into thin air, and a dismembered torso in the trunk. A decade later, Bea, the first reporter on the scene, and Brenda, a detective on the case, are hosting a true crime podcast about it, and neither is remotely impressed with what the other has to say. Arden is also a retelling of various Shakespeare plays.

Desperado: (Supernatural, Adventure, Horror Elements) In a modern world of gods and magic, three young people, all under the patronage of death dieties, embark on the same adventure for different reasons: for safety, for revenge, and to kill The Old Man in the Sky. Fantastic banter and killer action sequences.

The Far Meridian: (Magical Realism) An agoraphobic young woman wakes one day to discover her lighthouse home has travelled to somewhere entirely unfamilar. As this continues to happen day after day, she uses the opportunity to search for her missing brother. A really unique and charming piece of fiction.

Gastronaut: (Sci-Fi) Interstellar travel audio blog of a former food critic as he travels to an active warzone to get firsthand experience with unfamilar cuisine. ft. Disgruntled martian nobility, sinister businessmen, explosive mushrooms, forbidden snacks, rogue revolutionary artists, and the consequences of your actions.

Girl in Space: (Sci-Fi) The Girl In Space lives alone on a space station, doing science, making cheese, rewatching Jurassic Park, and tending to the plants, animals, and artificial sun entrusted to her. It's a little lonely, but not a bad life. Would be a shame if someone came along to ruin it.

The Goblet Wire: (Microfiction, Weird Fiction) A surreal microfiction with horror elements, taking the form of phone calls to an audio-based game in which the voice of the mysterious Dictator leads each player through fantastic and horrific world and story.

Hello From The Hallowoods: (Horror, Supernatural) A dramatic entity beyond your comprehension visits your nightmares to tell stories of the people (in varying degrees of human and alive) that inhabit the strange, deadly, and beautiful Hallowoods, as they find meaning and sometimes eachother.

Hi Nay: (Supernatural Horror) A year after moving to Toronto, sound designer Mari finds herself drawn into helping people around the city with various horrific supernatural encounters due to her babaylan (shaman) family background. It quickly becomes apparent that there's something much more sinister and complicated happening in the background.

Inco: (Microfiction, Sci-Fi) A perpetually exausted interstellar information trader and her peppy AI find a mysterious (read: bratty) boy floating in space and are inadventently pulled into a world political intrigue.

Inn Between: (Fantasy) Ever curious about what the D&D characters get up to at the tavern between sessions? A generally lighter-hearted (with some exceptions) with richly-written and always-growing characters. A really interesting format, too: a lot of the adventure appears in the "next time" and "last time" segments which makes it all flow really nicely. Not a tabletop podcast.

Janus Descending: (Sci-Fi, Horror, Tragedy) A xenoarcheologist and a xenopaleontologist are sent to a study a dead city on a distant world. Nobody likes what they find there. A unique format, with one set of logs presented first to last, and the other last to first. I'd recommend listening to the supercut for this one.

The Kingmaker Histories: (Steampunk, Weird Fiction, Adventure, Fantasy Elements) In the Valorian Socialist Republic 1911, on her 25th birthday, tailor's apprentice Colette experienced the worst headache of her life. As a result, she fleed from town with a human artificer and a fae chef - both now smugglers - pursued by an utterly furious flesh-crafter. I'm not sure I'm selling how good this podcast is but it's very good.

Life With Althaar: (Sci-Fi, Comedy) A human repairman moves to a space station on the edge of human territory that is perpetually on the edge of self-destruction, and ends up with a less-than-ideal last-minute roomate. Althaar is polite, friendly, deeply interested in human culture, and eager to be friends. Unfortunately he belongs to a species that sends humans into a visceral panic at a glance.

Lost Terminal: (Sci-Fi, Hopepunk) Seth is a very lonely AI living on a satellite. His crew were left stranded aboard with no hope of return, and it's been longer than he can count since then. The Earth below him has changed dramatically, and with only a few other AI down there to talk to, he's very lonely. But! He has a plan to make some new friends.

Love and Luck: (Romance, Slice-of-Life and Urban Fantasy Elements) Voice messages cataloguing two young men falling in love and opening a queer dry bar together.

Midnight Radio: (Light Supernatural, Romance) Sybil McIntyre, host of the ever-popular 1950's nightly radio hour, begins exchanging letters with an old fan who has reluctantly returned to visit Sybil's beloved town.

Midst: (Weird Fiction, Western, Sci-Fi and Fantasy Elements) The old-western planetoid islet of Midst floats, rotating steadily, in a sea of reality-warping darkness. Down in the town of Stationary Hill, things are in movement, and vistors from the light above are about to bring unanticipated change. ft a monocycle-riding monster-hunter, radio-famous airship paladins, deadly mica, the universe's peppiest cultist, good dogs, and a really strange businessman.

The Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality: (Weird Fiction, Supernatural, Urban Fantasy and Horror Elements) A friendly AI tour guide leads you on a tour of the Mistholme Museum, explaining the strange and often alternatural story behind each item.

Monstrous Agonies: (Supernatural, Relationship Advice) An interpersonal advice show for supernatural entities and other people living liminally in the modern world.

Night Shift: (Urban Fantasy, Investigative) Set in a modern world with the addition of magic, which manifests in small inherited skills/traits, can warp people in horrific ways, or can be manipulated with the right science (and intense work) to induce superpowers. Sebastian Fenn is a barista at Night Shift Coffee, but since things are slow he's decided to start a podcast to talk about various mysteries, crimes and conspiracies around the city, and of course finds himself deeper in them than he'd intended.

The Pasithea Powder: (Sci-Fi, Thriller Elements? I think?) The last major interplanetary war was full of atrocities, but none more infamous then the creation of Pasithea Powder, a memory altering drug which was used to horrible effect and landed it's entire team of creators in prison. So when decorated war hero Captain Sophie Green sees one of them wandering free, worlds away from his prison, she gets in touch with a very old, estranged friend: one Dr. Jane Gonzalez, who's behind bars for the very same reason.

SCP: Find Us Alive: (Weird Fiction, Supernatural, Horror and Slice-of-Life elements) You don't need to know anything about SCP to enjoy this. A research team gets trapped in an underground research facility when the complex collapses and the building is dragged into a pocket dimension. The tear it was designed to study begins creating tiny copies of itself, generating strange entities the team needs to deal with. And as if that wasn't enough, the entire situation physically resets itself every 30 days. And yet, this is genuinely also an office comedy.

Second Star to the Left: (Sci-Fi) Audio logs of a scout sent to explore and establish early infastructure new world, and the communications with the minder in charge of keeping her alive.

Seen and Not Heard: (Slice-of-Life, Drama) Seen and Not Heard follows Bet, who's still adjusting to life a year after a bout of severe illness, and the resulting hearing loss it caused. It's about the ways we make connection, and food, and art, and different kinds of grief.

The Silt Verses: (Horror) In a modern world where gods are abundant, frequently both commercialised and restricted, two devotees of an outlawed river god go on a pilgrimage.

SINKHOLE: (Sci-Fi, Weird Fiction) Forum posts from a data restoration community in a near future where the human brain is its own computer and one city hosts a massive void.

Starfall: (Fantasy) Seeking to escape her mysterious past and find some purpose, a young swordswoman joins a travelling actor's troupe. This new life is unfamilar and sometimes stressful, but she's taken under the wing of stagehand Fel, who's determined to help her feel welcome as she experiences the figurative and literal magic of the theatre for the first time.

The Tower: (Weird Fiction) A low-key, meditative podcasy about a young woman who decides to climb a seemingly endless tower. Gorgeous sound design.

The Vesta Clinic: (Sci-Fi) New GP Dr. Fae Underwood, with the expert transcription skills of resident AI Sec, writes up patient reports on human and alien patients of The Vesta Clinic, a medical clinic on the edge of human space. Really comfy and creative.

Victoriocity: (Steampunk, Mystery) Set in the steam-powered Victorian city of Even Greater London, an aspiring journalist and a tired detective find themselves working together to solve a strange murder. I say Victorian but as queen Victoria is now an extensive grandiocity of cyborg components following seven only-kind-of-successful assassinations, you may need to adjust expectations a little.

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galesdevoteewife · 5 months

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Let’s talk about Mystra

Hello everyone, I wanted to talk about Mystra👋🔮

As much of a crazy lover as I am for my fictional wizard, the more lore research I do, the more I feel like Mystra deserves some love too. This goddess lives a cursed life. I know I know she asked Gale to kill himself, but bear with me; here are my arguments:

A bit history of Mystra

There’re 3 Mystra: Mystryl -> Mystra (Elminster’s Mystra) -> Mystra (Midnight)

In short, Mystryl is the fourth deity in the universe, composed of Shar & Selûne’s essence. She is one of the primal existences while the universe is still new and trying to settle down, a significant component of the universe itself. While Mystryl’s spirit was born naturally, Mystra and Midnight were both once mortal and raised by AO to inherit Mystryl’s power.

Is Mystra bad?

Midnight, “Mystra 3rd ” is who we met in BG3. She was a human magic user born in 1332 DR. Midnight was aiding Mystra 2nd at the time of troubles. She’s a kind-hearted and humble woman who ascended in 1358 DR. She didn’t want godhood at all; she only did it to counter Cyric, the bad guy.

From comic book Avatar (1991)

For decades, she even tried to allow only the good use of magic, later learning her duty and place as the guardian of balance and impartial arbiter of the Weave; no matter how Midnight feels or hopes things could have been. She was only 26 when she had to wave goodbye to everyone she knew, shouldering the 24/7 goddess duty. It’s true that she will inherit other Mystra’s memory, but personality-wise she is only 160 years old; even Halsin is older than her. (Not to mention she spent 94 years in dormant)

Note[1]: Later on all the Mystra mentioned I will be talking about Midnight

Note[2]: Dec17/2023 I will come back and edit this section; it's misleading according to Ed Greenwood's tweet. The current Mystra is likely a blend of all three Mystras with an unspecified proportion. I will provide details on the stories and deeds of the other Mystras.

Being Mystra sucks. Truly.

Imagine your body is just a thing lying on the street; anyone can command you to dance for them so long as they know the right spell. While you CAN reject it, you are NOT ALLOWED to.

What’s worse is that too many mortals and too many gods want the Weave, but it’s not something that she can “give”. Like no one can give away their body to someone else. She IS the Weave; I think of it as the Weave being the cells that compose her. Whoever wants to take it away will have to separate her mind and “body” by:

killing her and inherit the Weave, where all the attempters failed step 2, then only resulted in a broken/Weaveless crisis

or completely manipulating her mind, which is the option no one ever considers; they all go straight to killing her

Whenever DnD wants to change the rules, they kill Mystra.

Shar wants the Weave, Bane wants it, countless mortals want it too. According to the conversation between Gale and Lorroakan, it’s almost a common conversation trying to dethrone the goddess and take the power for themselves.

And no one is there to protect Mystra; she fights alone. Although she has a good relationship with gods like Selûne or Azuth, nobody lent a hand when she was murdered. She relies on her chosens and her own power.

On top of defending herself, aka protecting the Weave, another important duty is to maintain the Weave. Whenever a spell is cast, it damages the Weave, and she is the one to patch the holes. The more powerful the spell is, the bigger damage it will cause. That’s why her dogma includes “Use the Art deftly and efficiently, not carelessly and recklessly.” She also needs to keep an eye out for possible upcoming threats. A tough and tedious job, and no holidays for the goddess.

It might sound a bit twisted, but she is taking care of the world by taking care of herself. Anything happening to her means catastrophe for the world. (e.g., Spellplague, where magic caused mutations to the users, see wiki here)

But she asked Gale to explode himself!

Yes, and she also promised Elysium once he’s dead. There is actually a thorough afterlife setting in the Forgotten Realms DnD setting. In short, a spirit doesn’t perish when a mortal dies; it would be drawn to the Fugue Plane and wait for the god they prayed to in life to send a servant to take them to their heaven.

It’s a terrible fate for the faithless or false spirits, those who either defy their gods or never choose one. They are forever punished in this grim plane and even become part of the Wall of the Faithless.

Fugue Plane and Wall of the Faithless: those are spirits piling up into a wall

In Mystra’s case, her heaven is Elysium, judging by the name, you can already tell it’s likely a heavenly place. Significantly better than the Fugue Plane, that’s for sure.

It’s a fixed truth that all will die someday, and Gale’s afterlife options are:

Defy Mystra: When he dies, he will be forever punished as a false in the Fugue Plane. Not to mention Kelemvor, Lord of the Dead, is also Midnight Mystra’s former(?) lover, and he detests cowardice.

Defy Mystra and try to gain favor from another god: I think this will mean changing class and profession for him, as a wizard he is tied to Mystra after all.

Serve Mystra and be taken to Elysium: And who knows, since he is chosen of Mystra, she might even revive him someday. Mystra 2nd did that for her other chosen before. Note: Interesting reading about how her chosen become weaveghost after death, see wiki here.

Obtain godhood: When the god Gale dies, he will go through a completely different process.

An interesting thought here is whether Gale knows about all these. It will largely define what his true colors are. It wouldn’t make sense if he is completely ignorant of afterlife logic, though. His background is an experienced wizard (probably studied some necromancy), goddess ex, and apparently visited heavens before.

Is Mystra power-thirsty?

I wouldn’t say so. She is already OP, and AO asked her to nerf herself by sharing and storing power in her chosens. Even if she were to gain more power, she is not allowed to keep it.

She wants the Shadow Weave

She sees Shar’s secret creation, the Shadow Weave, as a threat and aims to eventually subsume it into her portfolio, even if that means sacrificing her last remaining goodness and humanity.

From the DnD book “Faith & Pantheons”

We see how Shar is using her Shadow Weave in the cursed land, and it's safe to say it's not an ideal living environment for most beings. Shar has been very keen to kill Mystra and take over her power; I don’t think the world would be a better place in her hands than in Mystra’s.

She wants the Karsite Weave

The same logic could apply to the Karsite Weave. While we can argue whether Gale has a good heart and can be trusted with godlike power, he did show some concerning traits, did he not? Maybe in the future, when he is wiser and calmer, that's how I read Mystra’s line when she tells him to be patient.

Why doesn’t she just cure him since she can?

This is 100% headcanon. I think Mystra as a goddess is able to foresee some future. In Elminster’s story series, Mystra 2nd often asked him to do things that seemed irrelevant but were actually needed in the future. In Gale’s case, could it be that’s what Midnight meant to do? To mentor and humble him? Even prepare him to go through this journey? (Hardly imagine the prime archmage Gale joining our little merry band, and Elminster did say, “Mystra was anything but idle- she chose you as her champion.” What could that means?)

Gale has a curve where he goes from being “irked by untalented apprentices” to “enjoying teaching a lot” if not using the crown. He could have been relying on magic too much, and his ego or pursuit of power had led him astray from his good nature. If you look from this perspective, offering to use the orb before the final battle could be him still having doubts about the team's ability and having more faith in magic aka his own power (mixed with his deep love for everyone that he'd rather die than see their lives wasted, of course).

She is a terrible lover, and she doesn't care about Gale at all

According to patch 5, how time feels in the outer plane is very different from the material plane. God Gale came back in 6 months, and he seems not aware that it has been months. With this logic and putting myself in Mystra's shoes, she got mad because Gale recklessly activated a magical nuclear bomb and ignored him for a couple of weeks.(~1 year in the mortal world) When they meet again, this grumpy jumpy bean is thinking of the possibility of killing her for her powers already. Excuse me???

I will say there could be more considerate ways to handle this subject other than asking him to bomb himself. This long-distance cross-race romance was very problematic, but I will reserve my opinion on how much love she holds for Gale. Probably not seeing him as an equal partner, of course, but drawing the conclusion that she doesn't care a tad about his well-being might be too hasty, in my opinion.

A screenshot of Mystra telling Gale that she wasn't the one who took his gifts away from him. That's not an expression of 0 sympathy to me. I've never seen her make this face except for this line.

*UPDATE on Dec 11/2023* Add a tweet from Ed Greenwood, the creator of the Forgotten Realms. Ref: X

*UPDATE on Jan 11/2024* • Add a screenshots during Gale's meeting with her • Add a note on DnD weaveghost setting *UPDATE on Apr 15/2024* • An great analysis of Gale & Mystra's relationship and Mystra's behavior logic

-DISCLAIMER- I am very new to the DnD world, but these are what I dug up and puzzled together. I could be very, very wrong, but please be kind; I did all this out of love for my wizard 💜💜💜

#baldur's gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #dnd #bg3 mystra #dnd note

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chrisili · 7 months

Text

3650 Days

Request: Nope

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!baker!reader

Summary: Gojo falls in love with a baker, although she doesn’t show any interest in him they make up a deal, if he buys a Croissant everyday for the next ten years she is gonna marry him. How will their relationship involve in that time?

Warnings: none Ig

Genre: Fluff, comedy, slightly suggestive (really like 3 lines), drama (lil bit), Time skip!10 years

Word count: 4,4k

A.N.: My second fan fiction and let me tell you I am actually really proud of this one. Based on the fact that no one read my other one, I am not sure if anyone will read this but at least I will lol. Sorry if there are any mistakes, I proof read this three times but I am stupid. Enjoy! NOT MY GIF OBVIOUSLY!

Masterlist

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“Man I am telling you this one last time, don’t get in my way when I already have things under control!” Said the black haired male angry as he walks beside his best friend Satoru Gojo. The white haired beside Geto just groans and hangs low with his entire body while walking. “But you are sooo slow! How can I help it?” He replies with a small smirk in his face. “Gojo, this is no joke. Get in my way on more time and I will-” “What? Hm? You will do what?” Gojo and Geto now stand in front of each other on the streets, looking angry at each other. Before one of them can make a move they hear a loud bang on the side.

“Come back here again and you will be sorry! This is a bakery not a singles bar you perv, yeah run you miserable worm!”

To explain, this is what Gojo and Geto are looking at currently: A girl their age, 17-18 years old, wearing an apron and holding a pan. She is screaming after a man who she had kicked out of the warm and bright bakery she, is probably working in. The man laying on the ground looks first shocked at the girl but then starts to run. The girl is breathing heavily and looks angry after the fleeing man, with one swift motion she turns around and opens the double glass door to get into the bakery.

The young men are looking a little confused until Geto breaks the silence. “Anyways, I will-” but before Geto was able to finish his second attempt to finishing his sentence, was Gojo already holding up his pointy finger, symbolizing Geto to shut up.

With long steps the tall boy walked into the bakery looking for the young woman he had just seen on the streets. The bakery was full with people drinking coffee or eating biscuits, many girls turned their heads to the entrance looking at the two handsome males entering. Geto smiled at a few of them but was mostly confused of why he was actually here? Gojo on the other hand was only looking for one girl and she was there right behind the counter.

A smooth motion and his arm was already resting on the counter and looking at the girl in front of him. The girl slightly jumps when she turns around and sees Gojo but she caught herself pretty quickly.

“Hello sir, welcome to bakery Lula Love what can I get for you?” she smiled kindly at Gojo ready to take his order. Geto appeared besides Gojo and was looking at the many cakes, biscuits, types of bread, cookies, donuts and what not. “I actually would like to take a-” today was not Getos day because without moving his eyes away from the lady in front of him, Gojo just hits Getos chest and starts talking instead.

“I would like to have your phone number in my phone.” To make it worse Gojo was actually sliding his flip phone over the counter into her direction. Her face changes from shocked to angry. “Another one huh? Let me tell you this buddy, we are not a singles bar and if you don’t want to eat anything I’d recommend for you and your friend to leave. Immediately.” Gojo was not really, well, listening. His heart war pounding, his eyes changed into a heart shape and his ears actually blend out EVERYTHING. “What’s your name beautiful?” Was all he said and let me tell you, Y/N was not pleased. Geto already turned around and left the bakery, he was waiting in the front now because he was done.

“Are you deaf or just stupid?” she asks him with frowned eyebrows. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be actually.” Was Gojos very smart reply. Y/N was now grabbing an empty coffee cup and threatened Gojo the same way as she did with the guy before him, who was actually trying to flirt with another customer but they looked very uncomfortable so Y/N helped. Gojo although didn’t budge, obviously. Y/N was slightly confused, what was she supposed to do? She can’t just hit him with a cup? Nor can she scream at him in front of all those people. “Don’t overthink your pretty head.” This was the last straw, she actually wanted to hit him with the cup now, so, she did. Well tried to, see Gojo is not a regular handsome high school student, he is a sorcerer and by the way the strongest one there is. So did the cup actually hit him? No. Did he take the cup out of her hand while it was in motion? Yes. Did he just put it down on the counter so no one gets hurt? Yes.

Y/N was really annoyed, who does this guy think he is?! She sighs and figures there is no way he is going away right now. “Okay you know what mister flash, I am NOT giving you my number. You can, like a normal human being, accept that or like a baby, cry about it and sit here all day long. Gojo was full on ready to stay the whole day but duty calls and so do spirits, so with a wink behind his glasses he just walks away and leaves.

But dear reader don’t fear for this story continues.

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From then on it was Gojos personal goal to go into Lula Love and make this woman fall for him. Y/N was honestly so close to quit her job when she saw the white haired guy walk in for the fifth day in a row. But over time she got used to it and they even, unknowingly, created some kind of routine. Satoru would walk in everyday asking: “Number?” while holding up his phone, to which Y/N would only reply with: “Croissant?” while holding up a paper bag with one Croissant inside. Gojo bought the Croissant everyday but she never gave him her number. Until she did, time passed pretty quickly and Satoru would actually grow on Y/N. But he always wanted more, after her phone number he wanted a date, after a date he wanted a second one, a kiss, a couple picture, her to be his girlfriend and so on.

On one Saturday morning he came into the bakery like it was his own house. “Y/N, my love! How about a kiss?” he said sitting down in front of the counter waiting for her to reply. “Sure” she said and when I tell you Satoru was shocked, he almost lost the blue in his eyes. “Wait what?” he asked her but she just laughed at him, implying that she clearly meant it as a joke. Gojo was not happy, he was pouting and sulking now losing his blue for real this time. Y/N just laughed but then looked a little bit guilty, he may be a confident ass who was way too stubborn but she still liked him kind of. She sighs, “let me tell you something. Buy a Croissant from me for the next, I don’t know ten years everyday and I’ll…. Marry you?”

You may be thinking why the hell would Y/N do that? Well first of all she thought there is no way a person could keep interest that long and actually make such an effort, so naturally she would get rid of him and it would cheer him up and she wouldn’t feel bad no more.

She was right because Gojo sat up straight and looked deeply into Y/N eyes. “Are you for real? Like are you serious? Like a hundred percent?”

“A promise is a promise. I am solemnly promising.”

“Deal, no take backs!” He jumps up and down, kisses Y/Ns Hand and runs away happily with his paper bag. Y/N stood there confused looking at her hand. “Hey! That’s 2.30$!”

I would like to jump those ten years with you but there are two things I want to show you before we do.

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After approximately one and a half years nothing really changed, Gojo Satoru still bought his Croissants counting the days and Y/N… well maybe something changed. Could it be possible that she had fallen for the young male who was now almost 19 years old?

Already sitting by the counter, Gojo was actually waiting for the rain to stop. Actually he was appreciating the time with Y/N but don’t let her know! Oops. He had some hot chocolate and some Dangos in front of him looking at Y/N doing her work.

“Satoru, you never actually told me what you work as. Is your job that embarrassing?” she asked teasingly while preparing coffee for another customer. Gojo just laughs slightly and takes a bite of his Dango stick.

“No, not embarrassing. It’s just complicated and I am not sure if I should tell you, it could get you into great danger.” He was chuckling but Y/N wasn’t, she was kind of persistent. Now she HAD to know what he was working as.

“Well I am sure I can keep up?” she said but Gojo only put out some money and finished his Dangos. “It’s better you don’t know. Hey, a beautiful face like yours should not be frowning.” He leaves smiling, leaving Y/N behind worried.

The next day was a very unpleasant day for Satoru, a male worker was at the counter. Where was his girl? What happened to Y/N? Did he say something wrong? Is that guy her boyfriend? Does she have a boyfriend? Did he ever ask if she had a boyfriend? Is she dead? Stuff like that, but there was only one way to find out. Ask.

“Hello sir, what can I get for you?” greeted the male worker Gojo as he sat down with dramatically squinted eyes. “Where is Y/N?” he asked bluntly and soon the male worker had about the same expression as Gojo himself.

“You Gojo?” he asked with a nod.

Gojo nodded back. “Yeah so?”

“Y/N said she doesn’t want to see you anymore. Said something about you working some strange business.”

Gojo thought for a second and then nodded again. “Where is she?”

“At home.”

“Where is ‘at home’?”

“I ain’t telling ya shit.”

Gojo just smiled at the man and looked around, no one was in the building but two very stupidly acting males. What else is new. Then, Gojo hit the workers head on the counter and hovered over him.

“Listen you fuck, I am gonna say this one time and one time only. I have some very important thing with Y/N going so you either tell me where she lives or I will smash your head into this counter.”

What the poor worker obviously didn’t know was that as a sorcerer Gojo was not actually allowed to hurt a normal human being, but threatening one seemed fairly legal right?

The man was not of a very strong nature and actually gave Y/Ns address away faster than bread in the morning. On his way, Gojo noticed that Y/N lived outside the central city in an apartment. He was about to go inside the house when an older lady walked out to bring out her trash bags.

“Grandma, you should not be lifting those heavy things! Here let me help.” He took her trash bags to the cans and threw them inside. He clapped his hands clean and smiles at the woman who was very shocked to see such a handsome young man help her. “Do you have to go upstairs?” He asked her a little louder so she could hear him clearer, she just smiled and shook her head. Gojo bowed and went upstairs to see his girl. “Since when do they make such handsome men?”

Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong

“Yes yes I am coming!” Y/N hurried to her door and opened it, she immediately shut the door once she saw who was behind it. Her back was pressed against the door and her breathing was heavy.

“Y/N please let me in I need to talk to you.”

“I am sorry but I don’t want to be friends with you anymore!”

“Friends? You’re my fiancee! Anyways, please let me explain.”

“No, go away! I don’t want to be friends with a Mafia gang member!”

Gojo was slightly confused, a Mafia gang member? He chuckled, no, he actually laughed out loud so much that he had to hold himself steady on Y/Ns apartment door. “You think I am part of the Mafia?” Y/N didn’t reply. “Oh come on! You really think that? You can’t be serious, that is why you disappeared?” Again no answer. “Fine. I’ll leave you then.”

Gojo was walking down the stairs and Y/N relaxed a little behind the door until she heard loud noises from outside and someone actually crying for help. It was Satoru! He was falling down the stairs!

Y/N immediately opened the door and ran down the stairs after him. “Satoru! Are you okay? Oh no please don’t be dead!” She was sitting beside his motionless body and took his head onto her lap. His eyes opened slowly and he reached out for her cheek to caress it, she froze and just let it happen. He smiles at her while rubbing her cheek softly with his thumb, she closed her eyes and just felt his touch on her skin.

“I thought you don’t want to be my friend anymore?” Gojos voice was so low and quiet that she almost didn’t hear him.

“I still don’t” She said smiling leaning down a little to his face and he leaned into her too. Before they closed their gap completely she realized the position he was in.

“Gojo.”

“Yes, love?” He said with his lips already poking out and his eyes closed.

“Did you just pretend to fall?”

He opened his eyes and gasped out dramatically. “Do you really think I? Me? Gojo Satoru would actually do such a thing?!”

You just leaving him on the ground and walking back to your apartment was answer enough. But this whole thing had two positive outcomes, first of all Y/N was now 100% sure that she was in love with the young man and second she now knew Gojos Job.

He hurried after her and tried to explain, she didn’t want to listen but he convinced her, naturally. He explained what a sorcerer is, what spirits do, how he is obviously the strongest of them all, blah blah blah. Y/N was shocked and didn’t really believe anything that Gojo said.

I will now take you to the place where Y/N very much so realized that Gojo was in fact NOT lying.

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We are now half way through, three and a half years later and Satoru still buys his Croissants everyday but the bakery is not where I wanna start this part of the story. Gojo and Y/N now being 22 they both have gone through a lot and although none of them would actually say it but they are each others best friends and they love each other. Gojos love is pretty obvious but Y/N is still holding back, sometimes she feels like she loves him more than anything and sometimes she wants to rip his head off his shoulders, she still doesn’t believe him about his job and what crazy human being buys a Croissant everyday for five year just because she said he should?

Anyways, Y/N was on her way home accompanied by no one else but Gojo. It was winter so it was getting dark pretty early and him being the gentleman he had become over the years, wasn’t going to let her walk home alone.

“You look beautiful in the moonlight, love.”

“Aw thank you Satoru, that is so kind.”

“… don’t you wanna say it back?”

“No.”

“Gojo Satoru!” A male voice echoed through the entire street but only Gojo could hear it. Gojo holds onto Y/N signaling her to stop walking, to her he just looked like he heard a noise and was trying to identify where it came from.

“Eh Gojo?” She asked but he quickly put a finger in front of his lips, quiet. Y/N was confused but she waited patiently for Gojo to move again.

“Tell me sorcerer, why is the cute girl in your arm not freaked out? You guys are so arrogant, thinking all of you can just defeat a spirit but let me tell you. NOT ME!” A big pile of violet slime appeared around the corner, a spirit who looked pretty weak.

“Satoru, let’s go. It’s really cold, nothing’s there.”

The five eyes of the spirit widened and his long mouth turned into a smirk. “Noo way, don’t tell me the great Gojo Satoru is dating a human girl.” The slime laughed and Gojo moved Y/N behind him to protect her. “I am just helping a lady home, if you leave now I’ll give you time to live till tomorrow.”

“Who the hell are you talking to?” Y/N asked as she looked around the streets confused.

“Me sweetheart.” The spirit revealed itself to her and Y/N actually screamed as she saw the slimy blob in front of her. All of a sudden she couldn’t move no more, her breathing fastened and her heart started pounding. Gojo thought it was cute that she was scared but what made HIS heart beat faster was her actually holding onto him tighter now.

“Don’t be scared, I could kill him in my sleep.” Gojo smirked and only looked at Y/N but she couldn’t move her head away from the monster even if she wanted to.

“Oh well, seems like you are stealing my screen time. I don’t want that really so, bye.” Gojo snapped his fingers and in just one second the spirit had cuts all over him and in the end, disappeared.

“Y/N are you okay?” He asked her placing his hands on her shoulders to shake her awake from her shock. Tears started to flow down her cheeks and then all of a sudden she hugged Gojo as tight as possible. “Don’t let me go, please don’t” She said with an empty expression but tears still running down her cheek. He was shocked first but then hugged her back tightly, caressing her hair and brushing through it with his fingers. “Shh, everything’s alright baby. It is gone, it won’t harm you.”

She looked up from his shoulder into his face. “I wasn’t worried about me! I was worried about you! I couldn’t have protected you even if I wanted to, knowing that maybe it could kill you and it would be my fault because I am just a baker!” There she cried some more, this time with emotions and it was breaking Gojos heart. He would have expected everything from her but that, her crying over HIM, her being worried about HIM.

Satoru Gojo is a very respectful man, a gentleman, so he wanted her to say yes to him first, give him permission. Tell him that she needed him, that she wanted him, that she only lived for him but he couldn’t control himself. He was just a young man being deeply in love with the woman crying on his shoulder. Satoru cupped her head with both hands and studied her face, she was so beautiful that the sun and the moon were actually jealous of her. She was smart, she was feisty and madly in love with the man in front of her. And just like that, he kissed her.

He was scared that she would block him, push him away, call him names, leaving him here and never wanting to see him again. Quite the opposite happened, she put her hands over his and kissed him back. Their lips moved in perfect sync together, he put his hands slowly and almost asking, on her waist while she put her arms around his neck to deepen the kiss.

In the middle of the street, in the night, with only a streetlamp and the moon watching was them kissing each other passionately. The kiss got heated over time, both of them had waited for years for this to happen so they let all their emotions out now. “Y/N I love you, I always have. Please please please be mine.” Gojo begged her while giving her sloppy kisses on her neck and lips, moving his hands up and down her back. “I am yours Satoru, I’ve always been yours.” She said kissing him deeply again while tugging on the back of his hair softly.

Before this goes any further I’d say we move on, hm?

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5 years later

10 years had passed now since Y/N and Satoru first met in the bakery she worked at back then. Don’t worry she still works there, but she also worked there back then right? Gojo still buys his Croissants, but because of a tragic event, Gojo actually couldn’t go alone.

“I can’t believe I have to take you three useless children with me!” Gojo whined with his hands on his head.

“Sensei! You said you wanted to see your girlfriend so we are going with you! I wanna know what she is like and especially what she looks like!” The pink haired guy named Yuji Itadori said in an exciting voice following his teacher.

“Exactly! I also wanna know who would be so sad in their life to actually date a guy like Sensei Gojo.” Nobara Kugisaki, another student of Gojo, whispers to Yuji. “Ey Megumi, you’ve seen her right?” Megumi Fushiguro, the boy Satoru took in when he was just a child, just nodded. “Is she hot?” Yuji asked Megumi. “Answer that and your head will be gone, as for you Itadori.” Gojo actually kicked Yuji into his knee and he screamed in pure pain.

“OW OW OW! YOU’RE A TEACHER YOU CAN’T DO THAT!!!!” “Wanna test me?” Gojo asked with a creepy smile and Yuji just shook his head. “Great, come on children.”

Shortly after they arrived at the bakery. Gojo immediately ran up to Y/N. “Y/N! I missed you so much!!! You won’t believe it, they actually made me bring the children!!” Y/Ns tray almost fell out of her hands as the loud voice surprised her. “C-children what children?”

“Us.” Megumi said with a little smile, he always liked Y/N, she was kind and she spent a lot of time with him growing into the young man he now was.

“Oh my, Megumi! I’ve missed you so much! Since you live at the academy now I hardly see you anymore! And you guys must be Nobara and Yuji, so nice to meet you. Gojo acts like he doesn’t care but he would die without Megumi.” Y/N whispered the last part and they laughed already loving her.

“The only way I am dying is if I don’t get my morning kiss!” Yelled Gojo like a little child. “You already had it this morning, we live together. You are such a silly little man.” She said, still pecking his lips and smiling while moving behind the counter.

“Here is your bag and I am sure Gojo would be delighted to buy you all something to eat?”

“No.”

She hit his head with a newspaper.

“FINE. Take something.”

They all said goodbye to Y/N. Gojo was actually acting like the end of the world was outside of the bakery, he held onto her leg and turned chibi style, wow scary. Anyways, they all went on a mission and having Gojo and three extremely strong first graders with you it was quite easy and a quick job done. On their way to the next mission, the kids demanded a lunch break. Threatening Gojo with the head of the academy or the police or something, he actually didn’t listen. He let them have their lunch break and while they ate he also took out his Croissant.

“Let me get this straight, you’ve been eating a Croissant for like 10 years everyday? Isn’t that like, boring?” Nobara asked while eating her egg salad. Gojo had heart eyes looking at the Croissant. “Of course not, they are made by Y/N and she puts different fillings in all the time! At the beginning it was just plain Croissant but as she fell in love with me more she put chocolate, marmalade and even ham and cheese inside! Based on that I knew that she liked me more and more everyday, my little sunflower. I wonder what you put in there today.”

His students looked at him like he was mentally ill but he didn’t care. He bit into his Croissant and started chewing not actually getting a different taste than a regular Croissant until he tasted something weird. “Love, why does this taste like paper?” He said to Y/N because in his heart she was always there, just kidding, he is nuts. He put the bite into his hand and actually saw a piece of paper inside, he took it and looked at it. It was a blank piece of paper or so it appeared but when he flipped it, there was something written on the back. It was a little hard to read because well, he had been chewing it but he could make out three letters. Y E S. YES. Yes. Yes?

“Losers, what does YES mean? Is that like slang?”

All of them still looking disgusted because of the whole puking out your food and looking at paper inside thing, tried to think. “You mean the word, yes?” Megumi asked.

“No mister I know everything! Y. E. S., that must be a short form for something. Yes doesn’t make se-” he cut himself off widening his eyes as he realized. He was gone faster than any of them could have said spirit.

Back at the bakery, Gojo run in panting and holing up his piece of paper. Y/N saw him and started to smile widely.

“You got my message I see.”

“You bet I did. Is this, is this what I think it is?”

Y/N just shrug her shoulders and smiled. He walked over to her and held the paper almost into her face.

“Is this your marriage acceptance?”

“Happy 10th year anniversary love.”

Gojo laughed and started crying because of how happy he was, he lifted his soon to be wife and swirled her around. They kissed each other deeply and they lived happily ever after.

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maraudersmyloves · 8 months

Note

Hello! I was reading this post about bada doing the reader's hair and her doing her makeup, and I liked the way you wrote it so much that I wanted to request a story from them.I was thinking about a dance in the rain, they had gone on a date in a beautiful countryside, with the perfect forecast, until it started to rain. You know, it was his fifth wedding anniversary, he wanted to please his girlfriend who loved the landscapes at night, he just wanted to make her happy and take photos of her before she returned to Europe, but the plan had been ruined and he felt terrible, until the reader stood up and asked her to dance, and thought again that she really loved that girl and that no matter how many months she was away, she would always wait for her. And oh! Can you have them kiss and an explanation of the feelings expressed by the kiss that Bada gives to the reader? (If it's too much, just don't do it, sorry, those details excite me a little) a big kiss. 😘

Thank you so much for this, I love taking longer requests so always feel free to add as many details as you like!!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆｡ﾟ. ───

pairing: Bada Lee x Reader

Warnings: My bad English, unedited, a bit angsty

Disclaimer 1: Everything on this Blog is fiction!!!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆｡ﾟ. ───

Bada felt so bad. She fucked everything up. This was your last night together before you had to return to Europe again and she managed to fuck it up.

She feels so stupid, why hadn't she looked at the weather forecast?

You sit down on the wet grass next to her, staining the pretty dress you wore. She looks over to apologize and is stunned. You look so incredibly happy. Bada is confused, has she not fucked up everything? You let out a little giggle while standing up again, "Dance with me. Please?"

Still in a daze Bada follows you and takes your hand. You lay your Hands on the back of her neck and she pulls you closer by the waist.

You're swaying without any music just staring into each other's eyes. You giggle again, causing Bada to join. She doesn't know what you find so funny but seeing you happy is all she needs right now. You look up at her through wet eyelashes. "You know, I've never told you this but I always wanted to dance in the rain with you."

Bada grins, "don't lie."

"I'm not! I always thought that only people who grow old together dance in the rain, at least in books. I thought it was silly so I didn't tell you."

Bada's eyebrows furrow, "You can tell me everything, love. I never think you're silly."

You give her a look.

"Okay, sometimes, But I think you're silly in a very cute and loveable way."

You smile your lovely smile again, and Bada can only think about how lucky she is to have you. She loves you so deeply that she simply wouldn't be able to stop. No matter how far away you are or how long she has to go without seeing you, she could not stop loving you. On her wedding day, she said "'Till death do us part," but not even death could stop her from loving you. Not even death could stop every part of her belonging to you. Her Body, her heart, her mind, her soul. Whatever Souls are made of, hers was made for you.

You squint up at her, "What are you thinking?"

She smiles lovingly at you, "Just how perfect you are."

You blush and Bada doesn't care about her soaking clothes or the ruined food she bought. The only thing she cares about is kissing you.

You angle your head and she leans down to connect your lips.

You hope Bada knows what you want to say through this kiss. You're so incredibly thankful for her. Her putting up with you, caring for you, loving you. You pour the endless love from your heart into the kiss hoping it could last forever.

#fluff #headcanon #bada lee #bada lee x reader #bada lee x y/n #dancer x reader #street woman fighter 2 #fanfic #writing #swf2

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lostinforestbound · 2 months

Note

Hello There ! 👋😊

Tw : slight Dune spoiler, since the book is rather old.

Could you write Zevlor Headcanons about his Tav!love interest being someone with such passion and determination to change the world, that they may sometimes scare people off, please ? ( if you know those work of fiction, I'm talking about someone similar to Eren Jeager in SNK, Anakin Skywalker in Star wars, or Paul Atreides in Dune ) 👀

Smooches ! ☺️

Oh wow this was definitely a brain exercise for me! I did my best, so I hope this is what you were looking for! Thank you so much for your patience!

Zevlor with a Passionate Tav

Zevlor is a leader. A Hellrider, a Paladin; he has led many people in his prime. Seeing other leaders is not something new to him, as he's seen many.

But something about Tav is very different. It's honestly part of why he fell for them.

Not only are they ambitious, they are passionate. He admires their resolve, but he notices how nervous others get around them.

They're so strongly convicted that they scare others around them. Never him, though. Gods, never him.

He always asks what keeps them going. Their motivations, their dreams, how believe they're in the right; it's all so fascinating for him.

It makes him wonder why they chose him; an Oathbreaker. Shouldn't they hate someone like him?

Although they work together, he honestly leaves most of the leading to them. They make amazing speeches and inspire many people like them, including himself.

Whenever he doubts himself about his resolve, Tav is always there to lift him up. They will hug him from behind and tell him he's doing everything right, in their eyes.

He would do anything they say. It's not in a pathetic way; he just trusts them so much. With his love, life, and soul.

Every day he still wonders how he managed to get their attention, when he's so dull compared to them. He never asks, so he'll never know.

Writing Blurb

They're speaking. A speech, one made up on the spot as terror rushes through the streets of Baldur's gate. A speech, one that has everyone absolutely enthralled, including Zevlor.

He's never seen them stand so tall, so brightly illuminated by the reddening sky. There's hope being lost as more destruction erupts, but they have become a beacon. Everyone has never looked more alive, even with the world's end at their doorstep. Some even looked scared, but were determined to fight this Netherbrain at their sole command.

At the end of their final sentence, voices cry out and cheer, almost startling him out of his thoughts. Everything became more real in that moment; they're about to go fight the brain, but he can't go with them. Not until they call. His Hellriders are ready for anything.

When they finally approach him, he notices how their smile disappears, letting him know their true feelings. They believe they can pull this off, no doubt about it, but they worry about him of all people.

He presses their forehead against theirs, minding the horns, and he cups their face with a free hand. "We will be fine, my love. You should worry about yourself."

Their grin returns immediately as he speaks, and his heart can't help but flutter. How did he get so lucky, to have someone that has such a determined, beautiful smile?

"I have nothing to worry about, then." They state, placing their hand over his.

Usually, he would argue lightly. They should be more worried about themselves; they're not invincible. He wishes they were, most days. Then he would never have to fear them getting hurt. But now is not the time, they all have a catastrophic brain to fight. They need all their heads in the game to win.

He sighs in resignation but returns their smile. "Do not be reckless, and do not be stupid."

"I won't."

They gently pull him in for a long kiss. It's gentle, as if they're savoring it, in case they won't see each other after; in case it is the last one.

It won't be, but they never know.

#forest-writes #zevlor #bg3 zevlor #zevlor x reader #zevlor x tav

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theyanderespecialist · 1 month

Text

Base Yandere Rosie Headcanons: Words Are Cheap, Soul Contracts Are Forever

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I am back with a new chapter! Rosie is the one in this chapter! So let's do this! Enjoy this!]

(Disclaimer: Rosie is not yandere in canon this is just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine just do not be illegal or gross about it! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life! Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon!

Disclaimer 2: Eating other people or being a demon that eats other demons is not okay, all the reference to the consumption of others is FICTION. No Demons or Humans were eaten. Rosie is a fictional character that eats demons and yes, when I make this into a video audio record I will do my best to censor.)

-Base Yandere Headcanons: With Rosie From Hazbin Hotel!-

.Rosie is an elegant woman.

.She fell for you right away, you were just someone that she could not and would not live without.

.She is also a lover of the old-timey stuff, such as music, clothing, and the whole aesthetic of the early 20th century

.So you can be sure regardless of your gender identity she will make your clothes to blend in with her in a cannibal town.

.She is a strong and powerful woman with such grace and elegance.

.She is not someone to mess with though, as she has been an overlord for longer than Alastor most likely.

.She loves you so much, but she is going to have you live a similar lifestyle.

.She is very open about her cannibalism and such that she would not mind offering you various limbs to eat.

.She though will realize if you are not into that and instead starts to cook the meat in it to hide the the cannibal part. She will get you used to eating demons in no time!

.She is a very loving and affectionate yandere and adores taking care of you. Very mommy energy.

.She tells you words are cheap and what matters is actions, so she will show you just how much she loves you, cause words are cheap and she needs to show you just how much she loves you.

.She also is a no-nonsense woman.

.At least when it comes to rivals, most rivals end up being killed and turned into a yummy meal for her to give you.

.They wanted to give you their heart, well you can eat their hearts as a lovely roast. (Hannibal Lector style)

.She would love to make romantic dinners with you, and to have them by candlelight~

.She is very forward with her intentions towards you and her love for you, she will make her desires very clear to you.

.If someone were to hurt you they would not just be killed but have a long and terrible torture done to them so they will suffer and know what they did wrong and regret it.

.She is a strong leader and the cannibal town follows her command.

.So if you were to try and run from her, you would be dragged back.

.She is going to get you in cannibal town and once you are there you will never ever be allowed to escape.

.She would of course also get you to sign a marriage soul contract.

.Like I said she shows her love with actions and not just words.

.So she will get you to be her spouse you will be her co-ruler of cannibal town and you two will live happily ever after.

.If you do not sign the contract? well, then she got to break your spirit.

.She did not want to do this, it was something she never ever wanted to do to you, but you forced her hand and she is an overlord, she has to put you in your place.

.Once she has broken you she will have you sign the contract and then she will build you back up.

.She takes care of the things that are hers after all~

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS Even though I had a mental breakdown the other day I finally got the draft done! I hope you all enjoyed this, and stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins!]

#yandere #yandere rosie #yandere hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin hotel #hazbin rosie #rosie x reader #rosie #reader #gender neutral reader

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soothinglee · 4 months

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even if my heart stops beating⏤✰

seungmin x reader | 1.6k✔︎

my notes⎯ hello everyone ! I know it's been a while since I've actually wrote something ! I actually got hit by a bus! yeah I had to sue this company called "writers block" and I finally got a settlement! (also happy new year!) I recently (like a week ago) got into Kpop, specifically Stray Kids ! I've read some fan fictions (shameless) about some of my favorites and got inspo to write one! thank you @soobnny . also I haven't wrote anything in a while so i'm a little rusty, i'll be as good as new soon!

warning⎯ mentions of vomit (used as word vomit) and crying.

genre⎯ angst to comfort.✔︎

songs⎯ six feet under; billie eilish | pretty boy; the neighborhood

the old rusted clock that came with the condo you and seungmin bought sits perched on the top of the fridge. Its old, wooden frame slowly caves in on itself as time goes on.

not even an hour or two ago you had happily entered your home to start cooking dinner, not even worrying about showering first because you were so excited to have dinner with your boyfriend.

even going out of your way to spend a hundred dollars over the amount you usually spend to give seungmin the greatest 'welcome home' feast. he and the rest of stray kids had been on tour for the last couple months, traveling all over the world to perform at concerts and do collaborations with other idols to promote their new albums.

sure, it had been lonely, being by yourself all of the time, the only glimpse of your boyfriend you could get is when he could facetime you for 2 minutes or when he responded back to a text 4 hours later. but you understood, you knew what you were getting yourself into even when you started becoming friends with him.

if anything, you were strong, understanding, and flexible to when he couldn't make it to something like a movie night or date when his plane arrives later or practice runs over.

the only thing now, is that he had promised you that he could make it on time to dinner. sending countless 'I swear ill be there' texts and swift calls ensuring his presences at the dinner table during his dance rehearsals.

but now you were sitting at the table alone. a cold jajangmyeon sits in the platter in front of you, a similar on across the table from you. looking up at that old clock the hour turns to 10 and he's officially 2 hours late. it wasn't unknown for him to run a little over his time but this was unbelievable. you curse yourself for being naive and truly thinking he would keep to his word.

as you get up and clean the meal that you created you feel a little piece inside of you break, watching your hard work spill into the leftover containers like your tears. this was embarrassing, waiting around like a puppy in hopes your owner comes home. you were loyal and hopeful to a fault but wasting time and money like this was just unacceptable.

by the time seungmin walked through the front door it was half pass midnight and you had situated yourself infront of the t.v watching a new drama a colleague from work recommended.

"(name)." he calls out, you hear his shoes hit the wall as he takes them off, and then theres a shuffle as he organizes them on the shoe rack. you hear him leave his keys in the bowl on the desk that was by the front door, his footsteps growing louder as he nears the living room.

"(name)." he calls out again, seeing you lay in a cocoon of blankets in the dark, he think maybe you're sleeping so he quietly discards his winter coat on the back of the couch. he flicks on the lamp on the other side of the couch to bring in some light. though when he comes around to sit down he finds your eyes wide open, "why didn't you answer me when I called?"

"why didn't you come on time like you promised?" you quipped back quietly, suddenly too exhausted to have any conversation with him. you try and sink further into the thick blanket as you watch the Netflix symbol load and the next episodes intro plays.

you can't see his face but when he sighs and shifts in his spot you can hear the hesitance, "you already know why, practice ran late, like always."

"whatever."

"'whatever?' what's going on with you?"

"nothing." your tone is snipped but honestly you couldn't care less. somewhere in your soul you feel as though this might be a little extreme of an reaction but there is only so much patience you can give one person. you constantly make time for him and this relationship, so why couldn't he move things around and do the same for you? your eyes remain on the television.

seungmins eyes dart quickly to the t.v and then back to you, noticing that your full attention isn't on him, so he leans over you and goes to grab the remote from your hands. at the sudden loss of contact you make a move to try and get the remote back from him but he effectively powers down the t.v and discards in on the coffee table.

"I'll only repeat myself so many times, what's going on?"

it was like a newfound energy fizzled at your toes and pushed itself up and towards your head, your body springs up from its sideways position and you angle yourself to face seungmin.

though the light was somewhat dim due to only the lamp being on, he could see the red-rim of your eyes and the dried streaks of tears sticking to your cheeks. obviously, it had been evident that you had been crying.

seungmins eyes soften for a moment, he reaches out to try and smooth out the puffiness of your cheeks but as soon as you see his hand coming you push it away, "you were crying?" it comes out more of a statement than a concerned question, but the worry was still evident in his tone.

"duh," you start, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in the tense space, you find comfort in the carpet on the ground. you were feeling...nervous. you didn't want to cause anymore problems but things won't get solved unless they are discussed, which in all honesty, the thought of confrontation in the first place is feared.

you need to get it out, you can't stop living like this. deep down you know he cares but you have to stop going off of assumptions. either he's going to show up or not, it was clear already that you showed up no matter how busy you were.

"do you even still love me?"

the question tumbles from your lips before you could even process what you were saying. maybe it wasn't what you wanted to convey exactly but it was definitely a start.

"what?" his airy voice sounds dumbfounded which makes sense. the intense look you're giving him plus the profound, out-of-the-blue question throws him off guard.

of course he loves you, why would you ever think anything different? "where is this coming from?"

"well it's just that every time we have something planned your work gets in the way. I spend hours and hours getting ready, trying to look my best, just to waste the day sitting on the couch waiting for you to come home. sometimes I'm waiting so long I fall asleep! I put so much effort into being a good girlfriend! hell, I even spent over 100 dollars on dinner tonight because I knew you had a hectic day, it took me two hours to make it just for it to go cold and put into a container,"

your voice chokes up, full of exhaustion and disappointment. you feel the tears pooling in your eyes but have no energy to stop them. you really want to quit the word vomit but there's no point, theres more to be said.

"I try so hard to not get disheartened but it gets so hard when you don't even try. sometimes I feel like you don't even care about this relationship anymore, like you don't care about m-"

just as you were about to finish your words were muffled by hands on your face, and lips on yours. seungmin had kissed you to stop your rambling. you couldn't help but to feel relieved and somewhat offended.

"stop." he whispers as he takes a breath, his hands still on your face, foreheads connecting, "please stop." his voice crack under pressure, its subtle but at the lack of distance between you two you can hear it so well. your eyes are closed, trying to get your own tears at bay but hearing how emotional he's becoming breaks you. a sob teeters at your bottom lip but you force it still.

"don't you ever think that I don't care. I always have." he pauses and wipes the stray tears on your face with his thumbs, "I'm so sorry I've made you feel like this. god I'm such a bad boyfriend, this is my fault."

you try to move away to comfort him but he holds you in place gently, you sniffle and reach up to brush the bangs from his face.

"I promise you I'll be more attentive, ill take you out everyday, spend as much time with you, cook for you, miss practices all the time just to make sure you know I care about you."

"you promised earlier but you didn't come!" you cry, recounting how long you waited.

"I know!" his voice quivers as his hands tremble, lightly shaking your head, "I know...and i'll never forgive myself. you don't know how much you've shaped me into the person I am now and I- I have no clue what I would do without you. I just have a poor way of showing it."

you grip on his wrists, mimicking him with your eyes squeezed shut, you stopped trying to keep the tears in awhile ago, letting them fall freely into your covered lap. "how do I know I can trust you? I'm so sick of feeling like this."

"I promise you I will prioritize you more than anything, Idol life, dancing, singing- whatever, does not come before you. I won't leave you hanging like this anymore, i'm sorry I didn't pay more close attention to your feelings," his bottom lips shakes as he takes another deep breath, he opens his eyes and you can see pass the tears and sorrow a new found determination.

"even if my heart stops beating, you're the only one I need."

past your wary judgement...you believe him...

#seungmin x reader #x reader #seungmin fluff #seungmin x y/n #seungmin x you #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz fluff #soothinglee #seungmin angst #kim seungmin #skz x you #skz x y/n #idol au #established relationship

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mightymizora · 5 months

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hello new followers!

I've had a lot of new followers recently and I'm going to take this opportunity to plug my fics, because that's why I am here (between shitposts and rushed meta.) So! I'm going to do a game I've been threatening to do for a LONG time, and I'm going to invite other writers to do the same.

Rules are that you plug a handful of your fics from your current fandom(s), give a quick summary, and then put in 1-2 lines from comments as reviews. Because fuck it, self-promotion is fine actually.

The Portrait

BG3. 6.5k one shot, Enver Gortash/The Dark Urge. Lord Gortash requests a portrait of his paramour. The pay is good, the contract legitimate. It seems almost too good to be true... In pre-canon, a young artist takes a job from an upcoming player in Baldur's Gate society. "The voice was amazing, the descriptions are poignant without getting too far in the weeds, you show so much without telling explicitly." "if i could frame this fic and put it up on my wall, i would in a heartbeat! literally the definition of perfection"

Monster, Mine

BG3, 7k one shot. Enver Gortash/The Dark Urge. There is a beast haunting the city, and there is a tentative reaching of hands across the table. In pre-canon, Enver Gortash tries to find the truth of the Slayer. "This is a genuinely stunning piece of fiction." "Their poisonous codependency and joint descent into it is the absolute delight to read!"

Even if Love

BG3, 8k, short chapters. Multiple. Shades of love for The Dark Urge, Orin The Red, Enver Gortash, Wisteria Jannath, Sceleritas Fel, Kressa Bonedaughter, Lae'zel, Minthara Baenre, Sarevok Anchev and Araj Oblodra. Can be read individually, but they do build a narrative together. "it is a crime that AO3 only allows one kudos for a whole fic" "All so distinct and sharply observed, and such gorgeous writing throughout!"

Blood and Bone, Bone and Blood

BG3. 3.5K one shot. Ketheric Thorm/The Dark Urge A collection of moments between Bhaal and Myrkul’s chosen as they are bound together with Gortash as the chosen of the Dead Three. "It simply drips with style. Gorgeous prose." "Feral about this fic"

The First Leaf on the Tree after Winter

BG3. 9k, multi-chapter. Halsin/Jaheira. Background Wyll/Karlach. Their time was a century before, she thinks. What can they be, these old souls rooted in their ways, these observers of the world, these failed heroes? "All the kudos here. The ultimate kudos. Oh I really loved this." "I reached the end with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. so bittersweet and beautiful. I adore every word."

Breath and Rosewater

BG3, 20k, multi-chapter ongoing. Gale/Tav She has always loved music for many reasons; the patterns that present themselves, and the sheer joy of playing. Working out the fingering, and bringing joy to others. The breath before the first note. The freedom that comes from following your heart and letting it soar. He has always loved magic for every reason; the study of it, the power in it. The quiet contemplation of hours of learning, the thrill of application on the battlefield, and off of it. The understanding that comes from complete control of your craft. "most well-constructed intro paragraph that i've read in awhile—we get such a strong sense of glim, her expertise, her pride in her art, in just four sentences." "Oh this whole thing is so beautiful. i adore your prose."

#long post #bg3 #enver gortash #the dark urge #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #ketheric thorm #jaheira #halsin #orin the red #sceleritas fel #wisteria jannath #lae'zel #kressa bonedaughter #I'm gonna come tag people to do this one day lmao

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reanimatedheart · 1 month

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Hello! Welcome to the official Reanimated Heart Tumblr.

(This Pinned is Under Construction. Still figuring out the tags...)

Reanimated Heart is a character-driven horror romance visual novel about finding love in a mysterious small town. There are three love interests with their own unique personalities and storylines. Play the demo on Itch now!

Content Warning: Reanimated Heart is an 18+ game! It contains dark subject matter such as violence and sexual content. Player discretion is advised.

This blog is ran by Jack, the creator.

Itch | Link Tree | Patreon | Twitter

Guidelines

My policy for fanwork is that anything goes in fiction, but respect my authority and copyright outside it. This means normal fan activity like taking screencaps, posting playthroughs, and making fanart/fanfiction is completely allowed, but selling this game or its assets isn't allowed (selling fanwork of it is fine, though).

Do not use Reanimated Heart for illegal or hateful content.

Also, I expect everyone to respect the Content Warnings on the page. I'm old and do not tolerate fandom wank.

F.A.Q.

Who are the main Love Interests?

Read their character profiles here!!

Who's the team?

Jack (creator, writer, artist), mostly. I closely work with Exodus (main programmer) and Claira (music composer). My husband edits the drafts, and my friend Bonny makes art assets. I've also gotten help from outsiders like Sleepy (prologue music + vfx) and my friend Gumjamin (main menu heart animation).

For VOs, Alex Ross voices Crux, Devin McLaughlin voices Vincenzo, Christian Cruz voices Black, Maganda Marie voices Grete, and Zoe D. Lee voices Missy.

Basically, it's mostly just me & outsourcing stuff to my friends and professionals.

How can I support Reanimated Heart?

You can pay for the game, or join our monthly Patreon! If you don't have any money, just giving it a nice rating and recommending it to a friend is already good enough. :)

Where do the funds go to?

100% gets poured back into the game. More voice acting, more music, more trailers, more art, etc. I also like to give my programmer a monthly tip for helping me.

This game is really my insane passion project, and I want to make it better with community support.

I live in the Philippines and the purchasing power of php is not high, especially since many of the people I outsource to prefer USD. (One time I spent P10k of my own money in one month just to get things.) I'll probably still do that, even if no money comes in, until I'm in danger of getting kicked out the street… but maybe even then? (jk)

What platforms will it be released in?

Itch and then Steam when it's fully finished. Still looking into other options, as I hear both are getting bad.

Will the game be free?

Chapter 1 will be free. The rest will be updated on Patreon exclusively until full release.

Are you doing a mobile version?

Yeah. Just Android for now, but it's in the works.

Where can I listen to the OST?

It is currently up on YouTube, Spotify, and Bandcamp!

Why didn't you answer my ask?

A number of things! Two big ones that keep coming up are Spoilers (as in, you asked something that will be put in an update) or it's already been asked. If you're really dying to know, check the character tags or the meta commentary. You might find what you're looking for there. :)

Tag List for Navigation

Just click the tags to get to where you wanna go!

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wardenparker · 1 year

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Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 3

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.

Rating: General audiences, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 16.3k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* Flirting, discussions of deceased soulmates. Not too many warnings for this one, although Jack and shopping is a personal fantasy of mine. Summary: A party and a day out together give you some time to get to know Jack a little bit better. Notes: Sorry for the post delay this week, everyone, but thank you all for being so supportive. Health is a struggle but fiction is a beautiful escape.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Epilogue

Jack eyes Champ, frowning slightly at the older man as he shoots him a grin across the room. He's been cagey lately, smirking at him like he knows a secret that he won't tell Jack. Something that he knows drives the senior agent crazy. Instead of walking across the room and demanding he tell him what is on his mind, Jack turns towards you. Watching as you meet Ginger's soulmate, Gabriella.

Just a little get together, Diana had said when she called you, smiling down the phone as she issued the invitation. To celebrate! Well, Diana’s idea of small was two or three dozen people - all Statesman employees and their families - gathered at the Rogers’ house for a weekend barbecue. It seems like the whirlwind of introductions may never stop, but this bright and happy woman named Gabriella and the two children that she seems to be an expert at wrangling just put you at ease. Introducing yourself seems a little redundant since this is a party to welcome you specifically, but the kids don’t care - just as kids tend not to. They wave hello and ask their mother if they can go play with the other kids, and are off like a shot the instant they get a ‘yes’.

“They’re sweet,” you say, smiling despite how much you miss your niece and nephew. It’s only been five days since you saw them last, but that’s the longest you’ve gone without seeing them ever.

"They are wild." Gabriella corrects you with a laugh, looking after her kids with the fondness of a parent of someone well accustomed to their antics. "But they promised to behave under threat of torture."

“I wish that worked on my nephew.” When she pats the arm of the chair beside her, you sit down gratefully. Deciding to dress up for this party shouldn’t have included heels, that’s your own fault. “When my niece is finally old enough to be his sidekick, everyone’s going to be in trouble.”

"Menaces, huh?" She chuckles and sips her spiked lemonade before she shrugs, keeping an eye on her own troublemakers. "That just means they will have each other's backs when they are older."

“I hope so.” They have good examples to follow, at least, with how close you are to your siblings. Even if you’re not physically close to each other anymore. “So…this is what counts as a ‘little’ get together around here?” Diana had poured you a spiked lemonade a few moments ago, and you’d added peach nectar as your fruit flavor of choice from the bar of fruit flavored syrups and liqueurs by the large bar set up in the kitchen counter. It’s the best lemonade you’ve ever had in your life.

"Any excuse to have a party is Diana's reason for living." Gabriella jokes, motioning to where she is fluttering around talking to people with the largest smile on her face. Her husband ambles behind her, much slower in pace as he allows her to do as she pleases with a fond smile on his own face and a whiskey in his hand.

“A woman after my own heart,” you laugh, looking over in time to see a young man maybe a few years younger than yourself receive an enthusiastic kiss to his cheek and be shooed inside with lipstick on his cheek. “Their son?” It’s not exactly a stretch to guess. He has Champ’s stance and his mother’s thick head of hair.

"Bobby." She confirms with a nod. "He’s back home for a bit after being overseas for the last two years."

“Something fun, I hope.” But you won’t pry, enjoying the easy atmosphere on this sunny afternoon.

"Oh yeah, he's been traveling for Statesman and has been a little homesick." She murmurs, aware that you aren't aware of the real reason for international travel from some of the Statesman employees. Her wife had filled her in before the party.

“I like that it’s a family operation.” Turning back to Gabriella, you take a sip of your lemonade and smile. “Do you mind if I ask how long you’ve been here?” You don’t know their story - her and Astrid - but as the newest arrival to what Champ and Diana jovially call ‘the Statesman family’ you feel like you want to know everything.

Gabriella smiles, looking over at Astrid with stars in her eyes. “We found each other about seven years ago. Damn lucky honestly. What with–” She bites her lip, knowing she shouldn’t say the real reason. “Astrid doesn’t have any scars.”

“I noticed that a lot of people don’t seem to have tattoos, either.” It’s just a vague observation, but coming from the culinary world where so many of your coworkers have large pieces or even whole sleeves, it surprises you. “I guess I’m alone in that one.”

“Yeah.” Gabriella gives a slightly nervous chuckle. “There’s actually an incentive to have them removed here. You should look into it. If you want, of course.” If she could get you to remove the tattoos without any suspicion, Jack would be in the clear.

“Why would I want to do that?” Your left hand moves protectively to cover your right elbow, and you think back to your contract to make sure you haven't glazed over anything. There had certainly been a dress code portion of the employee handbook, but nothing about tattoos or piercings. Not even a note on ‘acceptable’ hair colors.

“I meant no offense.” She immediately back pedals and gives a small smile. “I’ve just known plenty of people here who have decided they don't want their tattoos anymore. People change what they once liked…you know.”

“Oh, sure.” That’s true, certainly, and you relax a little. “I guess that’s fair. I just can’t see a single reason I would want to get rid of mine. I just made sure to get it in a place that I could cover, ya know? Just in case. Some fine dining restaurants don’t like to have them showing.”

“Of course.” She bobbles her head quickly, not wanting to alienate you with a thoughtless comment. She wasn’t supposed to know that you are Jack’s soulmate but Astrid had let it slip. “I know all about the ‘professional’ world. I was in the corporate rat race before I found Astrid.”

“Then that makes you a much braver woman than I.” You laugh and sit back in your chair. “I don’t know how you survived it, honestly.” All that corporate nonsense does nothing for you and it never has - no part of your extraordinary life is ever going to revolve around file numbers.

“Oh I’m much happier now with our little house to keep and our kids to wrangle.” She promises. “And just listening to Astrid talk about work gives me all the adventure I could ever want.”

“It’s not that little.” No, you see their house in the walk to work every morning now, and it certainly isn’t petite like yours is. Not that you need more than that for just you and the Dormouse. “You’ve got your slice of heaven, I think. It’s kind of…” You shrug, figuring you’re probably over sharing, but it’s always coming out of your mouth. “Kind of what I always wanted. That idyllic family life.”

“I never knew I wanted it.” Gabriella has no problem admitting that she had never imagined domestic bliss or being a stay-at-home mom when she was climbing the corporate ladder. “Now, I couldn’t imagine anything else.”

“I wouldn’t give up my career for anything.” Anybody who asked you to would be in for a rude awakening. “But a family? That’s…that’s still the dream.” Even with your soulmate, the idea of finding someone isn’t ridiculous. Plenty of people do it every day…right?

“I understand.” Gabriella looks over to where her youngest has spotted Jack and is currently climbing up his leg. Jack smiles and laughs as he swings the boy up onto his shoulders, but there is the underlying sadness underneath. “Sometimes the dreams are all you have.”

“Sometimes they are.” Too lost in your own melancholy overlong losing your soulmate, you don’t see Gabriella’s eyes move to Jack with her son. You don’t even notice Astrid and Tex step up onto the porch together.

“Well, look at you.” Tex whistles as he looks you up and down. “Ain’t you pretty as a picture? You having fun?”

“Hey you.” The sound of his voice is familiar - one of the only things that is familiar around here - and you perk up a little to see two familiar faces. “You made it.” To be honest, you didn’t really know who Diana had invited, but you figured it was a good chance that Tex would be here considering he had been your flight companion and part of your testing team. He seems to be involved in everything the same way Jack is.

“Damn near didn’t.” Tequila admits. “Amsterda—” He cuts off abruptly and shakes his head. “I mean, an armadillo managed to get into one of the storage houses.” He covers his slip up with a mile wide grin. “But I made it.”

“Is that why I haven’t seen you in days?” You pop up from your seat to give him a hug and choose not to say anything about the fact that he was definitely about to say something else. “Because of an armadillo?”

“Tricky suckers.” He huffs, giving you an extra squeeze before he lets go of you. Gabriella sends Astrid a pointed look and then glances at Tequila.

“If I find one in my garden, I’m calling you.” It’s barely a threat, and you don’t have a proper garden yet, but you’ll get there eventually.

“You can call me even if you don’t.” Tex tells you, making Astrid clear her throat and capture everyone’s attention. “Should we get something to eat?” She asks when your head turns towards her.

“Lead the way.” Champ seems to have deputized his son to help him look after the large grill on the other side of the yard, and Jack is nearby with a drink in hand when the four of you approach together.

Astrid and Gabriella whisper together ahead of you as you make your way towards the tables laden down with sides and desserts. None of them yours yet, but a potluck off all those who wanted to contribute.

“I wish Diana hadn’t insisted on just being a guest.” Walking beside Tex, you look over at the table of various desserts with affection. Sweets are what you do, after all. “I would have made a couple of cakes to bring.”

"You aren't supposed to bring food to your own shindig." Jack huffs, walking up toward the group and nods towards you. "It's not how it's done here in the south, sugar."

“I guess I have a few things to learn.” You half step forward to offer him a hug, having left things on a good note after your night at the bar earlier in the week, but you’re not still quite sure what Jack thinks of you and you don’t want to make things weird - so instead you end up just stepping forward awkwardly and looking like your arms don’t work properly. “How have you been, Jack?”

He knows that you are expecting a hug and doesn't know quite how to ask for one. It's slightly awkward, especially since Jack just came back from the funeral of your former soulmate. It had taken a couple of days for his family to be notified and then another week for the body to be shipped back to his hometown. Jack hadn't introduced himself, just stood off a respectful distance while the man he had taken a future from had been lowered into the ground. "As good as I can be." He tells you, looping his arm around you and squeezing you to his side in a friendly manner, although his hand is lower than appropriate on your waist.

“I hope nothing’s wrong?” The side hug is a little awkward but there’s warmth to it - or at least there is to you. It wouldn’t be the first time you imagined that someone enjoyed your company more than they actually did. “Sweets can solve any myriad of problems, you know.”

"Nothing that a party with everyone I care about can't fix." Jack hums, a flash of pain that seems bittersweet and vague for Abigail not being here is almost as a reflex now. He suppresses it and grins. "But I'm eager for another sample of your cakes."

“I’m going to start working on the menu next week,” you tell everyone, chest absolutely bursting with pride. “So I’m going to need everybody to stop by the kitchen a couple of times to try out what I’ll be baking. As many times as you want to come by, I’d love to get the feedback.”

"Everyday." The promise pops out of his lips before he could ever even think about not speaking.

Not expecting such an immediate and earnest response, you practically beam. “Then I’ll start with cakes. By the end of the week you’ll never want to go near buttercream again.”

"Don't tell him that." Tequila rolls his eyes and shoulder checks Jack playfully. "This man keeps bags of candy in his desk all the time."

“Oh yeah?” You raise an eyebrow at Jack and smirk. “What’s your favorite?” Sometimes the smallest thing can be a big inspiration, so you’re never going to shy away from asking the question.

Jack frowns at Tequila for ratting him out and huffs. "I like Snickers." He admits with a modest shrug of his shoulders.

“Noted.” The urge to do something in Jack’s honor on your menu is seemingly expanding far beyond his affinity for your tea sandwiches, but on the outside all you do is smile. You haven’t had a crush like this in ages, and it doesn’t help that you’re nursing one for Tex at the same time.

"I like Zero bars." Tex adds, his brows lifted hopefully as he pushes his hands into his pockets. He really likes you, drawn to you in a way he hasn't felt before and he wants to ask you out.

“Which are, arguably, a white chocolate version of a Snickers.” It starts to turn your wheels even more, wondering if you can’t do something with caramel and peanuts that uses two types of chocolate.

"I keep telling you that." Jack smirks at Tex and shakes his head. "Boy doesn't know anything."

“It just means they can work well together.” Completely oblivious to any undertones in the conversation, you just shrug your shoulders and let your wheels grind on a recipe idea while the group of you moves up along the picnic tables to get something to eat.

Tequila frowns at Jack but he doesn’t feel guilty. The boy needs to sniff around somewhere else. It’s obvious you aren’t interested and you’re grieving your soulmate.

“What in the hell is going on?” Ginger whispers, hiding in Jack’s ear as Gabriella and Tequila whisk you toward one end of the tables to the immense batch of tamales that Ginger’s wife made for the occasion.

“What are you talking about?” Jack asks, feigning ignorance. “We’re at a party. That’s what’s going on.”

“You and Tequila.” She fixes him with a frown and pushes her glasses up on her nose a little. “You’re not normally this subtle, I’ll give you that. But it’s like watching peacocks.”

“Peacocks?” Jack frowns and looks over at where you and Tequila have your heads together over the table and there are the sounds of laughter. “You’re imagining things.” He scoffs. “Nobody’s actin’ like a peacock. Just bein’ friendly to the girl.”

“Jack.” Ginger frowns. She wears her cover for her friends on her sleeve and makes no apologies for it. “I know you might not…all things considered, I get it. Not saying anything to her. But please tell me that you told him?”

“Sure I did.” Jack nods, rolling his eyes. “Showed him the damn tattoos the day Champ benched me.”

“But you’re sure he knows it’s her?” She asks, searching his face with concern. When he rolls his eyes, her eyes pinch shut immediately. “It’s February, Jack. It might be warm enough for a backyard barbecue, but we’re all still wearing long sleeves.”

“Come on Ging– he went to pick her up.” Jack scoffs. “Don’t you think Champ told him that he was on an escort mission for my supposed soulmate?

“Honestly?” She shrugs, biting the inside of her lip while she thinks. “I think Champ told as few people as possible. So maybe he didn’t.” There is nothing supposed about you, but this isn’t the moment for that argument.

“Don’t see why it matters.” Liar. The voice in his head screams it but Jack just ignores it and forges ahead. “They are friendly. End of story.”

“If you say so.” The last thing she wants is to start an argument, so she’ll let it go for now. But Ginger knows Jack and Tequila and she knows their habits - and you’re getting at least one request for a date for Valentine’s Day next week. She just doesn’t know which one of them will be first.

Jack is happy she’s willing to drop it. Uncomfortable with the conversation, although he does side eye Tequila before he dismisses it. It’s not like he has a claim over you even if it was true. You aren’t his soulmate and there’s no way he’s yours. Not when his heart died years ago.

It takes two full plates before you’re finally stuffed, sitting in the afternoon sun in Champ’s backyard as most of the party has migrated indoors in anticipation of that same sun setting. There are still a few stragglers outside and you’re happy to be one of them - enjoying the sun’s rays while they’re still there to beat down on you. It’s been a lively afternoon and you’ve met a lot of very nice people, but stealing a few minutes alone has been nice, too.

Jack notices you off alone, nursing his beer as he watches you. Wondering what you think about this place, everyone here. He huffs to himself and stands, closing the gap between the two of you with no clue as to why. “Appreciating the silence or wantin’ some company?” He asks, knowing that if you want to be alone he’ll respect that.

“I wouldn’t say no to company.” Shifting to one side on the little bench you’ve been occupying, you make room for him to sit. You’ve always come to the conclusion that it would take a hell of a lot for you to say no to Jack.

He tries to tell himself that he shouldn’t be so pleased that you accepted his presence, but that doesn’t stop the quiet pride filling his chest. “No regrets so far?” He asks, looking over the party. Champ would have found something to make you stay, but he’s curious as to you wanting to be here. “Get your stuff easy enough?”

“I’m planning on running out tomorrow for a few things, but honestly the house is great.” It’s not like you owned that much to begin with, and the house came fully furnished. You’re just going to go wandering around housewares stores tomorrow to pick up some personal touches and to try some local restaurants while you’re out. “Everybody’s been so nice. Astrid actually sent flowers after I settled in, and Champ’s given me a key to the restaurant so I can be in the kitchen whenever I want. It’s all…pretty perfect.”

Jack knows that Champ might have put a tracker in the keys that he gave you. But he doesn’t like the idea of you going to town without some protection. “Want some company? Tomorrow?” Jack hears the edge to his voice and scolds himself for acting like an idiot. “I mean, I’ve got some errands to run and you can put whatever you buy into the back of the Bronco.” He tells himself that he’s responsible, at least until your tattoo on his skin goes away. Still convinced it’s the universe’s idea of a sick joke.

“You wouldn’t mind?” It’s not flirting, you remind yourself, although your heart does seem to pick up speed a little at the offer. “I mean…I was going to have lunch out while I was picking things up. So…my treat? As a thank you for driving?”

It’s his immediate reaction to protest. To remind you that his daddy would box his ears, but he catches your eyes. Pride. He’s more than a little familiar with the trait and he sees that you aren’t one to just expect someone to go and do. That you need to contribute to the outing. So he nods. “If you want, I can take you to my favorite country kitchen.” He offers. “They do a buffet of all the things folks love around here. Give you a feel for the area.”

“I’d love that.” It’s exactly the kind of thing you were hoping to find for yourself, but doing it with him sounds infinitely better. “Most of what I know about Southern cooking comes from my grandma, so I definitely want to try as many local places as I can.”

“Best food ever, although, come hungry.” He warns you. “They will be asking why you aren’t going back for thirds.”

“You’re assuming I wouldn’t happily eat thirds,” you laugh, amused by his serious tone. “I’ll go back every week if it’s that good.”

“Have you ever had cornbread so thin it’s like a pancake and fried until it’s crispy on the edges?” Jack asks you with a grin.

“We have something like that at home.” Johnnycakes are a New England classic, and you fell in love with the quick and tasty cornmeal pancakes during culinary school. “But I can’t wait to try the Southern version.” It sounds like it would be perfect for a caviar service if the tea room ever got that fancy…

“That with a piece of catfish fried to perfection is just like momma used to make.” He confides, winking at you playfully.

“Sounds like heaven.” One of these days you really have to stop shivering whenever he winks at you. But it won’t be today.

“That sounds like a plan.” Jack hates shopping, but he’s not going to let you go out to town by yourself. Or with Tequila, although he knows the boy is leaving on another mission.

“I haven’t lived on my own for a while, so there’s just some finishing touches I don’t have,” you explain, wondering why you feel the need to actually explain yourself at all. It just sort of…compels itself out of your mouth.

“Oh?” It almost startles him how quickly he focuses on that. “Lived with a lover?” He asks. “Statesman will let you bring someone to live with you if you’re trying the long distance thing. It doesn’t work - trust me.”

“I know it doesn’t.” While you didn’t really have any intention of talking about it today, there’s a Nudging feeling inside you that just wants to spill everything to Jack. To lay yourself proverbially bare and let this whole new beginning at Statesman be made of honesty instead of hiding pieces of yourself away. “I—a few years ago, I was with this person. Someone I thought was really going to last, ya know? I mean it wasn’t my soulmate but we had been together for years. Anyway…they got offered a job in New York. And we had all these plans for me to drive down to them and visit on off days and to make things work and they just…” You sigh, hating that everything that happened with your ex still hurts so badly. “It only took them two weeks to find someone else. So I left the apartment we’d been living in with our other friend and moved back in with my family. My little sister had just given birth to my nephew and every pair of hands that could help was welcome.” Rubbing your eyes, you huff ruefully and shrug your shoulders. “Sorry if that’s oversharing, I guess.”

“It’s not.” Jack wants to reach out and hug you, and that’s exactly why he doesn’t. He doesn’t deserve to comfort you and he doesn’t trust himself to not try. “Whoever they were, they were an idiot.” He can’t imagine just finding someone else. Not when you claim to love them. It’s why he’s been very careful to make sure that what he did have was very surface level physical pleasure. He hasn’t had an intimate connection since Abigail. Not real intimacy.

“They’re somebody else’s problem now.” If you wanted to, you could probably argue to yourself that Jack moved closer with this small moment of comfort, but you don’t want to tease yourself like that. You do like him, but it’s pretty clear that he doesn’t see you as more than a potential friend, so you don’t want to push anything. “I appreciate that.”

"Hopefully they step on Legos in the dark for the rest of their life." Jack jokes.

“You are cruel.” It draws a laugh from you anyway, a grateful feeling from being supported in a moment of emotional need. Things like this are easy with Jack - no matter how nervous you may get from your little crush, the softest moments are always easy. “But…on point, honestly. A lifetime of barefoot Lego steps would be pretty suitable.”

He laughs and feels like the moment is light and easy with you. Letting it settle over him like a soft blanket.

“Oh…” The memory hits you immediately and out of nowhere, as you sit in a moment of comfortable silence with Jack. “Tomorrow…I was going to go dress shopping, also. I completely forgot. So…if that doesn’t exactly sound like fun for you, I’ll totally get it.” It would be a disappointment to not spend the day with Jack now that you’ve made the plan, but you can’t imagine that womens’ clothes shopping holds any great appeal for him.

“I don’t mind going dress shoppin’.” Jack shrugs. “You know that it could be fun.” He hums, unable to resist imagining you in a sleek and sexy dress.

“I said yes to this wedding invitation ages ago and I just…haven't had any time to prepare.” The impulse to continue to explain yourself is obviously strong. “The plan was just to ignore my plus one and drive down to Boston on the day, but now it’ll be a flight and a hotel and all kinds of craziness and I—” You shrug. “They’re family, so I can’t just not go. So…I have to find a dress.”

“Wedding huh?” He relaxes slightly and shrugs. “You don’t have to ignore the plus one, I’m sure someone would love to go to a wedding.”

“Well, I’m friendly with about six people at the moment, and four of them are married couples.” Hope flames so strong in your chest that you’re sure he must see it. Maybe misinterpreted as a flash of desperation, but that isn’t it. You’re just…so fucking drawn to him. “So unless you or Tex is willing, I’ll just hang out with my siblings that night like I’ve been planning.”

“When and where is this little shindig happening?” Jack asks, smirking as he imagines perching you on his arm for a wedding and seeing how the rest of your family is. Even though the thought confuses him.

“The Whitney Hotel in Boston, a week from today.” Hope. It flares bright and beautiful in your whole body but you try not to look too much like a fawning schoolgirl. Without knowing how old Jack is, you would guess that he had about ten years on you, and you don’t want to come across as immature when you’re just being sincere.

Instantly, it’s like a bucket of ice water has been poured over his head. Except it’s no team celebration for winning a playoff or prank by Tequila. It’s the horror of realizing that you would have met the man you were supposed to be with if Jack hadn’t been there two weeks ago. Guilt curls in Jack’s stomach and the barbecue and baked beans he had eaten along with about a fourth of the dessert table threatens to make a reappearance. “Sounds- sounds good, sugar.” Jack manages to croak as he leaps ungracefully to his feet. “Excuse me.” He can’t even tip his hat towards you before he is rushing across the yard like the hounds of hell are after him.

******

“I miss you guys.” Hours later, on the phone with your sister, you still haven’t quite shaken the unease left behind by Jack’s abrupt exit from the party. Everyone has started going their separate ways by evening time and you had come home with the intention of starting to write out a shopping list for tomorrow, only to be interrupted by a call from Eliza. “How are my little prince and princess doing?”

“Missing their favorite aunt.” She huffs, even though she’s laughing down the phone. “Driving me crazy and asking when they are going to see you again.”

“At Cassie’s wedding.” You promise, shifting the phone in your hand as you look out into your backyard from the bedroom window seat. “I’m not skipping out on my family just because I moved.”

“I felt like you weren’t going to miss it.” She agrees, happy to hear it. “Have you found your dress already?”

“I’m going shopping tomorrow.” Obviously not with her, like you had been planning, but you’re still going to get it done. Even if Jack backs out of coming with you after leaving the party on such a weird note, you still need to go. “I need a couple more things for the house, so tomorrow is going to be dresses and housewares.”

“I’m so excited to see you.” She huffs, even though it’s only been a couple of days. “Are you settling in okay? I’m just amazed that the job comes with housing.”

“It’s like a little company town out here. There’s a whole neighborhood of full time employees and we all have these cute little houses and manicured yards. And the guest room is open any time you want to come visit.” Other places might have made it suspect or oppressive, but Statesman seemed to thrive on being a family company. “The owner even threw a little welcome party this afternoon. Backyard barbecue, amazing drinks, lots of people just hanging out and kids playing. I met most of the higher ups.”

“It sounds amazing. Friendly atmosphere plus booze?” She laughs. “Tell me the men are handsome.”

“I—” You laugh before you can stop yourself, glancing out the window again into the backyard of the house next door - owned by a woman you met today who works in HR. “Yeah. I’m not even going to be coy about it. Some of these men are stunning.”

“Really?” She knows you can hear the wicked grin on her face through the phone. “Tell me allllllll about them. I need a little cowboy in my life.” She laughs again, well aware she’s never even really interacted with one before but you are in the thick of them apparently.

“So…there are two that stick out.” The only person in the world who knows all your stupid relationship and crush bullshit is your sister. She’s been your best friend for your whole life and never wavered. “They both work security, and they’re…” This time when you laugh it’s a slightly embarrassed sound. “They’re really close friends. So I’m trying not to rock any boats by showing interest.”

“Let me guess, there is one of them that’s older and you like that one best?” She knows her sister better than anyone and whether you want to admit it or not, you have an eye for older men.

“Shut up.” There’s no heat whatsoever behind the scolding and you end up laughing at yourself, appreciating that Eliza isn’t beating around the bush with you. “There is, but if you meet him you have to swear not to embarrass me.”

“Ohhhh, I can meet him?” She asks evilly. “Are you bringing him to the wedding?”

“Maybe.” A part of you instantly wishes you hadn’t said anything, but you know that Eliza always has the best advice. “I don’t know. He offered to go shopping with me tomorrow and come to the wedding but then immediately got weird about it and I don’t know what to think. I’m getting super mixed signals from him.”

“Why do you think he got weird about it? Most men get weird about the wedding part, but you said he basically agreed to go with you, right?” She asks.

“He offered, I didn’t even really ask.” The kids in the yard next door are cackling, laughing as they play with their dog, and you watch them so that you don’t relocate to the living room windows downstairs - which gives you a view of Jack’s house. “It’s like…remember I told you I went to a bar earlier in the week and cleaned up some bikers at a pool game?” At the time, you hadn’t exactly told her the entire story.

“Yeah?” On her end of the phone, she ticks her eyebrow up curiously. “Did you go with old handsome?”

“He’s not old!” You both laugh anyway. “But yes. I went with Jack.” There is a longer-than-necessary pause while you debate with yourself, but you end up shrugging your shoulders. “He calls me ‘sugar’, but I really don’t think I should be reading too much into that because even my boss uses nicknames with literally everyone. It’s just a Southern thing.”

“But he wants to go shopping with you?” She reminds you. “Most men hate shopping.”

“It’s not like I’m gonna let him into the dressing room.” You protest, although you immediately think that if he made a move, you probably would.

“Sure you wouldn’t.” Clearly not believing your bullshit, she laughs. “Maybe he has something weird about the date? A Valentine’s Day wedding is very sappy.”

“Maybe. I really don’t know. And I don’t want to pry, ya know? Because as much as I get mixed signals from Jack, Tex has been nothing but sweet.” Talking it out will help, you tell yourself. It absolutely is not just going to pave the way for further frustration…

“But you don’t really want sweet.” She guesses. “Do you? You’ve always been attracted to the troublemakers.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re both trouble.” Another laugh bubbles out of you and you shake your head. “Remember the guy that came back on the jet with me to help me pack? That was Tex.”

“Oh he was cute, you mean the other one is even better looking? You better bring his ass to the wedding.” She huffs. “Bring both of them.”

“You want me to just strut into our cousin’s wedding with a cowboy in either arm?” God…your whole family would just lose their minds…

“Fuck…a girl can dream can’t she?” Your sister giggles. “I’ll be living vicariously through you.”

“Oh please.” Rolling your eyes is a useless gesture because she can’t see you, but you’re sure she can hear it in your voice. “Is having a surgeon for a husband not enough of a bragging right anymore?” You adore her husband - They’ve been together since high school and discovered their soulmate status after she graduated - but that doesn’t mean you won’t tease her. “Picture perfect kids, a successful husband, and your own amazing career aren’t doing the trick these days?”

“Nope.” She has zero shame and you know it. “I want to hear how hot cowboy sex is.”

When you huff at her it’s supposed to be indignant, but it comes out completely agonized. “If I ever have any, I promise I’ll let you know. But I genuinely doubt I have an actual chance.”

“Please, you’re gorgeous and it sounds like both of them are sniffing around.” She teases. “They want your sugar.”

“I never should have told you that,” you groan, knowing it will probably never die now.

“Hell no, you should save a horse and ride a cowboy.” She laughs and loves how you are sounding better. She knows about your loss of a soulmate and how much it has affected you.

“Oookay.” Snickering, you let out a sigh that is actually more like a half-groan and wipe one hand down your face. “Tell the kids I love them, will you? I’m going to see if I can get some sleep. I think I ate my body weight in barbecue today and it’s catching up with me.”

“I will, okay. I love you,” As much as she misses you, it’s best that you have a fresh start and it sounds like Kentucky is a good place for you.

“I love you, too.” Faintly on the other end, you can hear your mother’s dog barking and laugh softly. The sounds of home are absolute comfort and you do miss it. But this is the right place for you to be right now. “I’ll try to text you a sneaky picture of Jack tomorrow.”

“You better.” She warns you with a cackle. “Otherwise I’m going to embarrass you when he comes to the wedding.”

“If.” The nagging feeling you have that he doesn’t want to go is very real, but there’s nothing you can do about it. He either will or he won’t, and that’s that. “I’ll talk to you later in the week.” Another round of goodbyes is murmured before you hang up, and you sit in the window seat a while longer before dragging yourself to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

******

Jack feels like an ass. No– he is an ass. Actin’ like a fucking pup who had been scolded as he shot across the lawn and away from you. There’s nothing coincidental about where your little wedding is being held and he knows that artistically culinary talented you would have made your way to the kitchens even if they were off limits. He just knows it. Now, he’s watching your house like a damned stalker. Wanting to still keep his promises even though you might slam the door in his face. Spending most of the night up, hearing Abigail’s voice in his head, chewing him a new one for not apologizing for his behavior earlier. As soon as he sees movement, Jack is out the door. His jeaned legs eating up the distance between your house and his, ready to go if you're still wanting, and ready to apologize and just let you use his Bronco if you’re not.

Up, showered, and dressed after a night of lousy sleep and bad dreams, you drag yourself downstairs to make a cup of coffee. This coffeemaker is going to be the first thing you replace, you’ve decided, because you can finally afford a fancy espresso machine like you’ve always wanted. Kitchen gadgets are happening today, and it’s going to be a good time. Whether you go alone or otherwise, you tell yourself. Not knowing what the hell happened with Jack yesterday, you’re not assuming you’ll see him. Until your doorbell rings. Hopefully that’s just Jack holding up his promise to come with you, and not some random coworker wondering if you’ll be coming to church with them.

Shuffling on your small porch, Jack adjusts his hat before he swipes it off his head altogether. Nervous as a teenager going to his first dance, Jack rolls his eyes at himself. He just needs to relax, but for some reason he can't. He doesn't like the idea of you being mad at him. His stomach flips as he hears you walking towards the door.

The door swings open without a single creak, and you bite the inside of your lip when you see him standing there on your porch. “Morning, Jack,” you murmur, stepping aside to let him in. Whether this is an excuse not to come out today or an explanation for his departure last night, you have to admit that you’re just glad to see him. It means you probably didn’t do some unknown mysterious horrible thing to make him hate you - which is definitely what every dream you had last night was about.

Your neutral greeting gives him a smidgeon of hope and feels tension draining away in minute amounts. "Sugar, I-" He steps inside and huffs. "I need to apologize for leavin' so quickly yesterday." He turns and stares at you with a repentant expression on his face. "After makin' a fool of myself, I realized we didn't set our plans for today in concrete and while you might not even want the addition of my presence to your outing, I didn't want to be even more of an asshole and not show up." He manages to rattle this off in one breath and stops to inhale. "However, if you're wishin' to not be in my company, I at least want to offer the use of my bronco to you, since that had been a main sellin' point of the day." Offering for someone to drive Betsy is unheard of, but he's pulling his keys out of his leather jacket to extend them to you if you want.

Verbose. Jack Daniels is a verbose man, who can and will turn any four word sentence into four paragraphs. But you don’t hate that - it flies in the face of ‘quick’ communication like texting or shouting across a kitchen. It’s kind of nice, actually, when you’re not generally upset. “Did I say something wrong?” You finally ask, looking from his keys up to the sincere expression of reticence on his face. “Or did I do something to make you leave?”

"No." Jack assures you quickly, shaking his head and wondering how the hell he could possibly explain. "It was all me, sugar. All me and I apologize for worryin' you. It was never- I feel nearly sick at the idea of makin' you think that you had done anything." He's going to just pray you don't ask him for details.

“But everything’s okay?” If it wasn’t you, then it likely was something personal, and he seems like a fairly private person. A conclusion that’s only being reinforced by the fact that he hasn’t actually explained what happened. You decide, though, that you’ve only known the man a week and he doesn’t owe you his life story, so a sincere apology is enough.

"Right as rain, sugar." He manages to paint on a half grin, rocking forward towards you and there is a magnetism that he feels, like he's being drawn to you. "Does this mean you might still want me to squire you around town?" It's old fashioned and a little a lot flirty, but it feels right.

“Do you want a cup of coffee before we go?” Closing the front door is the silent signal that you want him to stay, and you can feel relief coursing through you that he seems to want to do this. The last thing you would ever want to do is drag him along unwillingly.

"If you're havin' one. If not, we can always swing by the best little coffee shop in town." Jack offers, not wanting to inconvenience you.

“We could do that.” Instead of retreating back into the kitchen, you reach for your jacket and purse instead. “A new coffee maker is on the list of things we’re picking up today.”

Jack chuckles as looks at your standard Mr. Coffee maker that was left in the cabins. "Doesn't quite do it for you?" He guesses, figuring you drink those fancy coffees with art made from the foam.

“My very first job was as a barista in a bakery in the town where I grew up,” you tell him. Keys, phone, purse, jacket, you’ve got everything you need so you open the door again and move to set the alarm via the panel on the wall. “I started drinking espresso and never looked back.”

"Figured." He gives a small chuckle and waits for you patiently, his hand moving to the small of your back when the two of you set out of the cabin and you close the door behind you. "Have you set up your biometric lock yet?" He asks, noticing that you are using the fob for the door.

“Not yet.” Keys go into your purse and you close your eyes momentarily against the warmth of his hand at your back. “Someone is coming tomorrow morning to set it up. Then I’ll lock myself in the kitchen at the restaurant and bake cakes all day.”

"What kind of cakes?" Jack immediately starts drooling, imagining what you might make. His sweet tooth is happy at the prospect.

“Well everybody seemed to like the coconut cake, so I think I’ll leave that recipe alone.” He opens the door of the Bronco for you and you slide in, loving that Kentucky in February is warm enough for an open air drive. “I think I’ll work on the red velvet or a hummingbird cake first. Try to nail down the classics.”

"Diana will adore you if you make her a fancy red velvet." Jack promises you as the two of you get situated in the truck and he turns the engine over. "And Champ will adore you for his wife being happy."

“They’re very sweet together.” The older couple have been nothing but lovely and welcoming to you, and you’re grateful for it. “And I wouldn’t dare open a tea room in the south without red velvet cake on the menu.”

"Maybe one of those scone thingys." Jack rolls his eyes. "She's always talkin' about how no one makes scones here."

"I can do scones." Any suggestions he has are more than welcome, as they give you a pretty good idea of what people in the area are actually looking to eat and that helps you focus your energy while you're putting together your menu. "Scones. Tea sandwiches. Maybe tartlets or quiches. I have way too many ideas."

"Was this always your dream?" He asks, pulling onto the main road and heading towards town. It's in the opposite direction of the bar he had taken you to the first time, but it's amusing to think that he has been showing you all the area himself.

"For my career?" You glance at him as he drives, recognizing the placid look of contentment there. He likes to drive, and you file that away in the back of your mind. "I mean, I did have a pretty decent stretch of time as a kid where I wanted to be a princess, and then about a month in middle school when I decided that I wanted to build a time machine, but...yeah. I pretty much always knew I wanted to be a chef. The debate was savory or pastry, and obviously pastry won."

"You're good at both." He promises you with a chuckle, enjoying the sass that seems to come naturally to you. "A princess, huh?" He looks over at you with a grin. "You know that job title comes with a high chance of being stuck in a tower, right?"

"Yeah, but traditionally it also comes with a handsome prince and really good clothes, so nine-year-old me was okay with it." When he laughs softly you grin, glad to see the tension between you has dissipated. "What about you? Was CEO of an international distillery always on your radar?"

"Definitely not." Jack shakes his head and drums his fingers on the steering wheel. "Smaller plans. Much smaller." He thinks about all the dreams him and Abigail had talked about, laying in the dark and holding onto one another. "Just a happy life, family, you know - the normal stuff."

"Not everything happens early in life. Sometimes the best things are worth waiting for." Obviously he never got his wish - or at least he hasn't yet - and you frown slightly. Surely he hasn't had any shortage of offers? He must be waiting for his soulmate, and you can't blame him for that.

"Yeah." It's better to agree instead of laying out his own sob story. He knows it would make you soft, probably make you want to comfort him and although he's enough of a man to appreciate the ways women love to comfort widowers - he can't do that with you. He's already doing more than he needs. He should be maintaining some distance but he can't quite stay away.

"It's none of my business." You know that, and can recognize it, but there's something about Jack that just continues to draw you like a magnet. "But if you ever want to talk about it...you very literally know where I live."

"I appreciate it, sugar." He does, he really does but he doesn't want to talk about that right now. Not when the day is turning out to be a beautiful one.

The drive turns back to pleasanter topics and Jack lets you play with the radio, laughing when you settle on a classic rock station just before he pulls into the parking lot of his little coffee shop. There are plenty of chains around - Louisville is a city after all - but Jack prefers this little place to Starbucks or - according to him - just about any place else.

“The corporate places are okay- don’t get me wrong, but you can’t get that hankering for something unusual and bring in what you need and have them make it for you like you can here.” He offers, opening the door onto the small coffee shop.

The smell is brilliant, hitting you in the face all at once, and you inhale almost greedily. Whatever sweets they're doing here, they're baking fresh. It washes over you and makes you eager to get up to the counter to see what they're working with. "What's your favorite?" You ask Jack, seeing a fairly standard bar menu when it comes to coffee drinks, but a plethora of tea options and syrups for flavor.

Jack grins at you, sure that you’re going to give him a dirty look. “Plain black coffee.”

"I can't believe you don't drink sweet coffee with the way you go after desserts." Is it teasing? Probably. But it's still a surprise.

“The bitterness of the coffee enhances the sweets.” Jack argues, huffing slightly. “I will have some of that syrup in a coffee if I’m not having a pastry with it, but that’s rare.”

"You know you don't have to defend that to me." You nudge him a little as the two of you step into line. "I always put a little coffee in my chocolate things. It amps up the flavor so much."

“Well then you should know.” He grins, eyes greedy as they roam over the case. Trying to see what they have for today. “They change pastries daily.”

"How often do you come in here?" It must be a lot, judging from the way the baristas call their hellos to him by name, and the cup of coffee already waiting for him at the counter when the two of you finally make it to the front of the line.

"It's my go to spot when I'm in town." He admits, shooting the girls behind the counter a wink and a nod for the coffee. "I'll take one of those sausage, maple and blueberry crumb cakes." He tells the one waiting for his pastry order. "They look good."

"Could I have one of the tomato, leek, and goat cheese quiches?" You ask, when the girl nods to Jack and asks you for your order right away. "And a café au lait of whatever your single origin coffee in today." The cashier dutifully types everything in, gets your milk preference, and gets everything moving. "Is it even worth my offering to pay?" You ask Jack, slightly smirking at how you had to bargain to even get him to allow you to pay for lunch when you planned out today.

"Nope." Jack shakes his head and his own wallet comes out. "I don't think you understand how badly my daddy would whoop my ass." He chuckles.

"Thank you for breakfast, then." If it's something he feels strongly about, then you'll learn to pick your battles. He's sure as hell not paying for any of your shopping today. "I wouldn't want your daddy to appear out of nowhere just because I'm stubborn."

"He'd be coming from the grave, so don't put it past him." Jack jokes, shuffling down the line and collecting his cup while you wait for the pastries and your own coffee. "Man could probably convince Satan himself to open the gates of hell to let him come back to whoop me."

You snort, laughing as you bring over plates of warm pastries and your oversized coffee to the table he has chosen. "Sounds like our fathers would have gotten along," you admit ruefully. "I love my dad but he is a ballbuster of the highest degree."

"Something about a father that does that." He murmurs, remembering his own pride at learning he was going to be papa. It had been the proudest seven months of his life.

"Yeah, I noticed that with my brother-in-law." Everything looks amazing, and you hum happily over the first sip of your coffee. Sweet and creamy but not overpowering the natural flavors of the coffee. You might have to see if this shop is interested in partnering, so you can use their coffee in the restaurant.

Jack is damn thankful that you didn't pick up on the momentary flash of pain, maybe he hid it well enough. Instead of saying anything else about it, he just ticks a brow up. "So? Whadya think?"

He had to ask while you have food in your mouth? You roll your eyes at him for a second but grin, nodding as you finish chewing the perfect first bite. Choosing not to say anything about the dark clouds in his eyes was apparently a good choice - you're just desperate not to do anything to rock the boat between you. "It's sooo good," you groan after a second, laughing at your own exaggerated reaction.

"Try some of mine." He offers, nudging a piece of his crumb cake with scrambled sausage, fresh blueberries and dots of real maple syrup over towards you along with his plain coffee.

Immediately offering him the same, you both try each others' breakfasts and hum happily. Whatever this place is using for their house coffee blend, it works gorgeously with maple. You'll have to remember that if they agree to a partnership. "So everything is good here? That's the vibe I'm getting?"

"Eh." Jack shrugs. "I don't like some of their stuff. Their cookies are a little too crumbly. I like 'em soft and chewy."

"How do you feel about shortbread?" The question comes with a raised eyebrow as you switch breakfasts again and file away Jack's cookie preferences. You're still not sure why you're so invested in making sure that everything you make is going to be to his taste, but it feels important that it is.

"Only if they have a sweet jam on top or sandwiched between layers." Jack admits, giving a small shrug.

"You realize that you have been all of my menu consults so far?" You ask him, thoroughly enjoying your breakfast and trying not to look too embarrassed or eager about that fact. "I ought to just call the place Jack's."

The joke makes him grin, contemplating it seriously for a moment before he shakes his head. "You don't have to take all my advice, sugar. I just like what you're offerin'."

"I'm sure I'll make something that doesn't suit you but everyone else likes, and that's fine." It's an inevitability of your career. Not everyone is going to like every single item on the menu. But that's why having multiple testers is important. "Champ's giving me three months to get the place up and running. He wants to have it ready for the summer tourist season, so I'll be asking for plenty more opinions before that time comes."

"I'm sure it will be amazing." Jack praises honestly. "You seem like you have a passion for makin' people happy and their belt tighter."

"Hopefully." The sting is unexpected - how the thought that smacks you out of nowhere is wondering whether or not your soulmate would have liked your baking. "Hopefully."

Jack sees the way your mood shifts, and he knows it's because of him. From what he can tell, you had been looking forward to a future with your soulmate and he's taken that from you. Guilt settles on him and suddenly, he's not hungry anymore.

An uneasy silence settles between you and you know it's your fault, the thick melancholy hanging over your shoulders making you blurt out and unasked for explanation. "My soulmate died," you tell him, not able to actually look him in the eye but staring into your coffee instead. "Less than two weeks ago. So I'm sorry if I get...awkward sometimes. I never met them or anything, it's just...it's hard to adjust to."

His stomach drops and he opens his mouth to confess. To take the look of sadness off your face and replace it with anger. Maybe it would help you. Help you focus on something else, direct your emotions on hating him. His lips part and the words are on the tip of his tongue. "I'm sorry," is what comes out instead. "I know how you feel, losing someone - I mean."

"Did you--?" Your fingers squeeze into fists on the table, curling in on yourself to try to keep from crying in public. Jack is the first person beyond your immediate family that you've told, and saying the words out loud again makes you ache. "Your soulmate?"

He figures it's safe. That if you know he's lost a soulmate you wouldn't think he has your marks on his body. After all, he's never heard of another set of soulmates in real life. It's always that hopeful whisper. "Yeah." He admits, frowning slightly and reaching out for your hands to cover them with his before he realizes he's doing it. "Her and- and our little boy."

"Oh my god..." Immediately feeling mortified, your fingers open to squeeze his instead of letting your nails bite into your palm. "I'm so sorry. Here I am getting upset about someone I never even met and you...you lost both of them. Shit, Jack."

"It was a long time ago." Jack offers, not wanting you to feel even worse than you do. "You just- it's different. You are allowed to grieve, sugar."

"I think it's part of why I took this job," you admit, feeling all the thoughts you've been keeping a lid on come bubbling to the surface. "A new start, ya know? A brand new life. I have no idea what it would have been like if I had known them, but I'm willing to bet anything that I wouldn't be working at Statesman if I had." Something makes you absolutely certain of it, in fact, and that's almost comforting. Everything in this new life is something you'll choose for yourself.

Jack's nodding covers the way that he swallows, knowing that you had no choice in this. The ink on his skin makes sure that you would end up at Statesman. He can only hope that you are happy here. "Statesman was my fresh start." He tells you honestly.

“And look how well you’ve done for yourself.” The smile on your face might actually be pride, except you have no claim over him in any kind of way that would justify that feeling. “All the way to CEO. I don’t think that it’s…any kind of exaggeration at all…to think that she’d be so proud of you.”

He tells himself that you are trying to be nice. Smiling weakly and giving a small shrug. "Hopefully so."

“Well,” you shrug, sensing that the topic isn’t exactly comforting to him, and pick up your coffee again. “I would be, if I were your soulmate.”

Jack closes his eyes and gives a soft chuckle. "If I were your soulmate, you'd hate me, sugar." He tells you, knowing that the secret he keeps from you would completely change your thoughts on him.

“I doubt it.” There are very few people on earth that you actually hate, and you can’t imagine a single thing he could ever do to cause that kind of reaction from you. “But I guess we’ll never know.”

"Yeah." That was true because he knew that no one was going to tell you. You would be happy and safe here at Statesman, maybe meet someone and fall in love with them, never aware that Jack is your soulmate. He frowns deeply at that thought and takes a sip of his coffee as he wonders why he hates that idea.

******

Dragging him around Pottery Barn and Williams-Sonoma ends up being a fully entertaining morning after an awkward breakfast. The shiny kitchen appliances and soft, fluffy throw pillows and blankets that end up in his Bronco pile up, punctuated with scented candles, a few decor pieces, and a beautiful full set of dishes and glasses for your table. The house stuff is easy, earns you a little teasing here and there, and is done before you know it.

"Where to now, sugar?" Jack asks, raising a brow at everything that is packed in the back. "Your dress or you want some more knick knacks?" He is in an indulgent mood and the slight bickering you had entertained him with had showcased how funny you are.

“Seems like dress time. I think I can put off more knick-knacks for another day.” You laugh and roll your eyes at him playfully. Jack had ragged on you the entire time you were in Bath & Body Works picking out scented candles, just as bad as the search for decor items in Pottery Barn. “You keep teasing me and I’m gonna make you buy me flowers for my new vase.”

"Aww, sugar, now you've gone and ruined my housewarming gift." He huffs, scowling at you playfully. He hadn't really been thinking about getting you flowers, but now that you mention it - it seems like a fine idea. "I'll get you the best ragweed Kentucky has to offer."

“If you do, you’ll lose taste testing privileges.” That is a very real threat, since your allergies affect your senses of smell and taste fairly dramatically. Allergies have cost you more than one exam grade in culinary school.

"No ragweed. Check." Jack drolls, just to make you laugh as he guides the Bronco towards some boutique that the women folk went to. Ginger had designed several outfits for formal affairs off what she had seen there.

“This is fancy.” When he pulls up in front of the building you can see into the big picture windows. Ladies sitting on settees with glasses of champagne that is probably cava - just as delicious at a third of the price - and women in crisp suits toting beautiful gowns in and out of dressing rooms.

"Hopefully you can find something beautiful here." He tells you. "They dress a lot of people around here for fancy things."

“Statesman people for fancy Statesman things?” You both climb out of the truck and he leads you to the door, giving you the feeling once more that all his gentlemanly behavior is just how he is with women and has nothing to do with you. Which is fine. It is. You’re just trying to talk your crush down off that ledge before you do or say something stupid. “I’m sure I’ll find something.” But your credit card will be laid respectfully to rest after today for a very long time.

"Sometimes." Jack grins. "We get a hell of a discount here."

“Now you’re talking my language.” The grin you shoot him is broad, morphing into something infinitely more amused when the woman behind the counter recognizes him immediately. “Mr. Daniels!” She practically purrs. “What can we do for you on this beautiful day?”

"Now Stephanie..." Jack turns and introduces you to the shop owner. "This here is our newest Statesman employee and she's lookin' for a dress." He tells her. "And of course, your shop was the first and only one I could recommend to her."

“Oh, you’re too kind.” She titters, downright blushing like he’s just outright flirted. It makes your stomach twist in something awful like jealousy. “My dear, what occasion do you need to be dressed for?”

“Um…a formal wedding.” You know you should have taken care of this ages ago, but if you’re honest with yourself you had just figured you would raid your sister’s closet and called it a day. She has plenty of nice things. “Black tie optional, the invitation said.”

"Black tie." She purses her lips and cuts her eyes over at Jack playfully. "I'm assuming you're attending and wearing the velvet Tom Ford we tailored to you with the black stetson?" She asks, tapping her finger to chin thoughtfully. "We will get a bow tie and pocket square that matches the color of the dress we find her." She decides.

“I really appreciate the help.” That’s undeniable. Clearly you hadn’t managed to get this done just by walking through a mall. “The, uh…the wedding colors are pink and white…if that helps? Obviously no one wears white to a wedding but I guess no pink, either?”

"Red is a no-no." She hums and her eyes light up as she thinks of a dress. "What about a blush champagne colored dress?" She offers. "I have a new design I just got in and it would look magnificent with your coloring."

"That sounds like a good place to start." You nod gratefully and let her whisk the pair of you over to one of the smaller sitting areas beside a dressing room. As soon as she disappears down a hallway another young woman appears with drinks and all but winks at Jack when she hands his over.

Jack winks back at her and nods in appreciation of the drink before he turns to you. "What do you think of this place?" He asks, looking around at it like he hasn't been there a hundred times.

"I have a feeling I'm nowhere near the first woman you've brought here for a dress." It's just an observation, and you try very hard not to sound sour about it, but your stomach is churning as you set your drink down on the small table beside you. "It's nice. They obviously take pride in their business."

"Well, I've brought Astrid, Gabriella, Diana when she wanted to surprise Champ." Jack ticks off names playfully, aware that's not how you meant it, but it's kind of rewarding to see the tinge of jealousy in your eyes.

"I do...appreciate you doing this." There is absolutely no reason to be jealous. Just because you have a stupid crush on the man does not mean he owes you anything. "I know it's a big ask, this whole weekend away thing. Even more so because we really just met."

He gives you a smile, shoving down the worries and insecurities under the veneer of confidence. "It's not a big deal, we'll go and drink, dance, have some canapés and you'll tell me who is the family black sheep and I'll make friends with them."

You snort, shaking your head at him and reaching for your drink as an anchor. "You already have," you tell him honestly. "I'm her."

"Now why would you be the black sheep?" Jack huffs, shaking his head at the mere thought.

"It's more like my family are the black sheep family out of the whole extended group." Having very independent and capable parents with strong opinions had meant that you and your siblings turned out just as independent and opinionated. "But my siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles and all of that...even my parents...they all have really incredible success stories in their education and careers, and everyone in my family has married their soulmate. No one is even going to believe that the restaurant is real. They all turned up their noses when I chose pastry in culinary school. Apparently bakers can't be celebrity chefs, and if I'm not a celebrity chef then I'm nobody." You shrug, long having since given up on gaining the approval of your extended family. "My parents and my siblings are great. And that's really all I care about."

"Ahhhh." Jack nods as he settles back in his chair. "I bet you would blow their fifty dollar socks off when you get your tea room set up. Have you come up with a name yet?"

"I'm still debating." One sip from your glass proves that you were right about the theory that it was cava to save money, but it's still a lovely glass of bubbly. "An Alice in Wonderland reference probably won't mesh with the general feeling around Statesman, so I might name it after my grandmother."

Jack gives a small shrug. "You could always call it The Rabbit-Hole and use the Red Rabbit Burrow blend they are working on marketing for." He tells you, thinking about the new line that is about to come out.

You stare, mouth open, and a hollow laugh sticks in your throat while your brain vaguely short circuits. If you had known about this new blend, you would already have the name down on the paperwork. "I could kiss you." Is the declaration that comes out of your mouth instead, gratitude and giddy glee reaching all the way to your toes. "Jack, that's perfect!"

It's on the tip of his tongue to take you up on that offer, watching your eyes light up with delight and joy. Making you seem even more beautiful than you normally are. "It's going to be launching in about five months." He tells you with an offhand shrug. "I can get you a few gallons to sample and experiment with if you want."

"That would be amazing." You're already itching to get your hands on it, wondering what the tasting notes will be like and what you can pair it with. "The Rabbit-Hole." Humming happily, you barely manage to keep your little wiggling happy dance under wraps when the woman - Stephanie - comes back with a handful of dresses.

Jack takes your glass of champagne from you and smirks. “Go play with the dresses and pretend you're a princess, sugar.” He winks and motions you off.

The large handful of dresses that Stephanie has reappeared with are grand and sparkling in tone of gold, champagne, and rose that will obviously compliment a pink-themed wedding but not upstage it. She seems to have picked out a style she likes for you - glamorous and evoking a bombshell look that would guarantee that the first person anyone in the room looks at after the bride, will be you. "These are stunning," you breathe, letting your fingers graze the sequins on the first dress on the rack. "I've never worn anything like them. But...I guess after today I won't be able to say that."

“Try them all on.” Jack encourages you. “We don’t have anywhere else to be.”

He's right, of course. The only other plan you have today is to have dinner together, so you disappear into the fitting room to swap your clothes for the first dress that might wind up in your closet by the end of the afternoon. The cut is flattering and the color is brilliant, but it doesn't quite feel right in some amorphous way that you can't quite put your finger on. Still, you step out to show Jack and see what he has to say.

Jack whistles and his eyes drag up and down your body. “Damn, sugar.” He huffs. “How do you like it?”

You can't help preening a little, even though you're sure he would compliment absolutely anyone he was with the same way. "It's nice, but I don't think it's quite right. I do love the color, though."

“Well then I guess we can mark that off the list.” Jack smirks. “Next one sugar.”

The next two dresses are nixed - one by you and one by Jack, who insists that the skirt doesn't fall right and you just end up smiling and nodding because you're trying not to spontaneously combust from him paying so much attention to your figure. When you go back into the dressing room, you skip the next one that Stephanie had chosen for you and go straight to the last, sighing over the flowers embroidered all over the dress and its accompanying sheer cape. The rose coloured fabric is darker than the Barbie-pink you know your cousin has chosen and the purple and gold accents make it fascinating to watch shimmer. It's gorgeous and the price tag makes you wince, but you have to try it on.

When you step out of the dressing room, Jack immediately stands and sweeps his hat off his head as he stares. “This- this is the one, sugar.” His body tells him that he really likes the way you look and he motions towards the mirror. “What do you think?”

"It's amazing." His reaction doesn't hurt either, and you turn to face the wall-sized mirror beside your dressing room. The cape falling around your shoulders is the closest to being a princess you'll ever come, and you glance at Jack over your shoulder as you watch your reflection. "It's so comfortable," you admit, laughing that that is so exciting to you when you're wearing such a gorgeous piece of art.

“So this is the one? Yeah?” Jack waits for you to nod and then turns to Stephanie. “Does there need to be any alterations?”

"A slight hem, depending on what shoes your friend will be wearing." Stephanie smiles, making sure to stay polite. "Oh...I guess I do need shoes, don't I?" Turning around in place, you look between them both. "I'm not too steady on high high heels, but...can a hem be done this week? The purchase is...sort of last minute." "I can have it done by mid week for you." Stephanie assures you, stepping forward to inspect the dress on your body and make sure she's correct that nothing more needs to be done. "We do have some heels here, if you would like to look. Gold will work well, or we can dye a fabric pair to match the gown if you prefer."

Jack chuckles. “Go check the shoes out, sugar.” As much as he doesn’t ‘shop’, he’s enjoying himself. Enjoying learning things about you. Maybe it’s crazy, he doesn’t know, but he looks at it like he’s taking care of you. Making you happy.

With a few very careful steps, you get down from the little platform that your dressing room was on and follow the saleswoman around the corner to a large display of heels in nearly two dozen shapes, styles, and heights. There are so many that it’s a bit overwhelming, but your eyes settle on a pair with intricate caging and open toes that will strap onto your feet and hopefully not move an inch all night. Something worth putting up with high heels for. “What about these?” You ask out loud, almost afraid to see this price tag on top of the dress.

Stephanie chuckles, actually chuckles and admires the boldness of your choice. “They are statement pieces, aren’t they?” She reaches for the shoes and pulls them off the display. “They are gorgeous and actually probably some of the more comfortable heels. Let me get your size and we will see how they look?”

“Thank you.” Your fingers subtly stroke the fabric of the dress as she retrieves your shoe size from the back and you walk back to where Jack is waiting.

Jack looks up, still in awe of the way the dress looks on you and gives you a smile. “Are they dying shoes or did you find some?”

“I saw a nice gold pair. Hopefully they have my size.” There’s only a moment of hesitation before you go back into the dressing room, retrieving your cell phone from your pants pocket to bring it out to him. “Would you…mind taking a picture? I…it’s silly. I just really want to show my sister.”

“One without the shoes and one with?” Jack guesses with an indulgent and slightly naughty grin. “I never have a problem taking a picture of a beautiful woman, sugar.”

Stephanie returns with the shoes while your face is still burning from Jack’s compliments. Absolutely no part of this is what you figured today would be like. You had pictures hunting through the dress department at Dillard’s quickly so as not to bore Jack, coming up with something passable but unremarkable. This is an altogether opposite experience to that - and definitely the closest to being a princess that you’ve ever felt.

Jack hums as Stephanie brings the shoes over and you sit down on one of those little poofy circle things women love. Standing, he moves over to you. “Let me help you put them on, sugar.” He murmurs silkily as he drops down to one knee in front of you and takes the shoes from the other woman.

It’s a damn Cinderella moment and all you can do is sit, frozen, trying not to react to the strength and gentleness of Jack’s large hands working the delicate straps on the heels. It’s not that you have a foot fetish, or anything even akin to it. It’s the warm way your skin tingles under his touch and the absolute intimacy of helping someone get dressed that have you holding your breath while Stephanie makes her unnoticed escape. You two clearly ought to be left alone.

He’s never thought of a foot as pretty. Never given them much thought beyond walking and laughing then Abigail had stuck her feet in his lap and demanded foot rubs for carrying his boy. He had acquiesced every time willingly. Now he keeps his fingers light as they move, sliding across your skin or holding your heel while he slips the heels on and buckles the straps.

It’s soft. Gentle. And you have no fucking clue why having him help you with your shoes has you in the verge of tears but here you are. Once they’re in place you shift slightly on the pouf, not sure that you want to break the spell of whatever the hell was just happening, but you need to see if the damn things are actually going to work for you. “Would you…?” You hold your hands out to him awkwardly, asking for help up.

“Of course, sugar.” Jack stands and dusts off his pants before he offers his hand to you with a wink and a slightly embellished flourish. “A Princess should not stand on her own.”

The way you huff is quiet - almost mournful but more like boarding indignant as he helps you to stand and just keeps you in front of him like this. Looking you over like it’s his privilege instead of a right. “If you treat the women you’ve just made friends with like this,” you observe, trying to shake off how special it makes you feel. “I don’t understand how somebody hasn’t snatched you up since being single.” You shrug, a little gesture but an honest one. “That’s just to say…your wife was a very lucky woman.”

“No sugar, I was the lucky one.” He promises, shoving down the wave of sadness and bitterness so he can concentrate on you. You deserve to feel beautiful at this moment. “Remember, manners maketh man.”

“Not in a dress shop, I hope.” A little smile crosses your lips, remembering he had said the same thing before taking those bikers to task a week ago. “And…it’s possible for you both to have been lucky. That’s—that’s what finding a soulmate is. At least…that’s what it seems like.”

It slips out, the dreaded words he hated for so long. “Maybe you will be lucky and have another soulmate.” He murmurs, knowing that according to the universe - you do.

You’ve heard those words before. From your father and brother, mostly, and you paint on the patient smile that you offered both of them when they said it. “Second soulmates are a fairy tale,” you remind him gently. “They don’t happen in real life. I’ll— I’ll just be glad if I ever find somebody willing to put up with my own specific brand of weird bullshit. That’s the dream now.” Companionship, not true love. That’s the best that you’ll dare to hope for.

He sees the brittleness in your smile because he has been far less kind with those words spoken to him. “I know.” He murmurs. “We just have to say it, right? It’s almost required.”

“Right.” You nod, stepping away from him before you say something incredibly stupid, and move back to the mirror to see the dress with these shoes on. It’s a spectacular combination and your smile softens, wondering what your soulmate would have thought of this kind of glamor.

Jack takes the picture you asked for and hands you back the phone. “Excuse me for a moment, sugar. Too much champagne, and I need to use the facilities.” He steps away, disappearing from the private dressing room.

******

“Mr. Daniels.” Stephanie’s head pops up from the front desk in surprise when she spots him, looking like he’s slinked away from where he was supposed to be. “Did you require assistance?”

“Sure can, darlin’.” Jack pulls out his wallet and lays down his credit card. “Everything she wants goes on this card. Tell her that it’s on the Statesman account and she’ll be billed at a heavy discount.” He requests, needing to buy that dress for you for some strange reason.

“You don’t want her to know it’s a gift?” She asks, head tilting slightly like she’s intrigued at the request.

“No.” Jack shakes his head adamantly. “This is a secret between you and me.” He makes it seem more charming with a wink and a flash of a flirty smile.

“Alright.” She’s damn well not going to question it. Not when she makes a commission. “Shall I encourage your friend to peruse our jewelry and clutches to complete the outfit, or would you prefer to keep the purchase small?”

“Whatever she wants.” Jack reiterates. Perhaps some of it is that underlying guilt that springs up around you, but this is mostly to make sure you look amazing at an event where your family will be.

“Very good.” Offering him a nod, she enters his credit card information into the purchase order under your name and hands it back with a smile. “If it’s not overstepping, the two of you do make a very sweet couple.”

“I wouldn’t be good for her.” Jack murmurs as he shoves his wallet back into his back pocket and sighs. “Now to actually use the bathroom.”

When Jack does return several minutes later, you are changed back into your own clothes and pour over a small display of gold earrings with Stephanie. “Hey!” Your smile is wide and true, eyes lighting up when you see him. “For a second there I thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m harder to shake than a tic on a dog’s ass, sugar.” Jack jokes, just to make you giggle at his inappropriate comeback.

“Noted,” you snicker, even more amused because Stephanie looks so horrified. “I swear I’m almost done here, and then we can get dinner.”

“Take your time, sugar. The decorations make the cake more delicious.” Jack muses.

“He says to a baker.” This time you throw him a wink, deciding that playful things are just that much more fun today. It doesn’t matter that he’s just being kind, whereas you would willingly and easily drag him into that dressing room to find out exactly how much of that cocky attitude actually comes from his cock.

Grinning, he can’t help the way that his cock twitches in his jeans. You are a sexy woman and even more so when you are playful. He likes that in a woman. “So go on and pick out your doodads.” He motions towards the display case. “Gotta work up an appetite.”

Doodads. You shake your head, feeling the action be much more affectionate than you meant for it to be, and turn back to the case of jewelry in various colors, tones, and styles. The earrings you end up picking are simple but beautiful sparkling gold stud, and a nearby soft fabric clutch in gorgeous metallic gold. Stephanie tries directing you to other pieces like elaborate bracelets, but you just end up wrapping your hand around the simple gold cuff you wear every day on your wrist. It was a gift from your sister and you haven't skipped wearing it a day in the three years since she gave it to you. "I think this is plenty," you announce, when you really understand that she isn't going to stop pushing. It's fine - she probably works on commission and you're making her a lot of money today. But you're not replacing the bracelet your sister gave you for any reason. "Dress, shoes, earrings, and a purse. That's more than I expected to do today, anyway."

“Alright.” Stephanie wants to tell you to spend more money. She knows Jack Daniels can afford it, but you aren’t supposed to know. “I don’t think with the heels you need any hemming, so would you like to take the dress with you now?”

“Please.” The placid smile on your face belies how excited you actually are about the dress - it’s just your credit card bill you’re dreading. “I really appreciate all your help today. I would have been lost on my own.”

“I love helping people dress for special occasions.” Stephanie tells you brightly and scans all the items, wrapping them up and putting them in a boutique bag before pulling out a garment bag for the dress.

“My cousin’s wedding is sure to be memorable.” That’s just the sort of person she is - a very big personality that should never be silenced. You shift your purse off your arm at the counter, digging for your wallet to hand over your credit card.

“That’s great.” Stephanie zips up the dress and smiles at you as she pushes the bag forward. “Well, I hope you enjoy it and have a great rest of your day.”

"I--um..." Standing there with your credit card out, you tilt your head and furrow your brow at the shop employee. "I haven't paid yet," you remind her gently.

“Don’t worry about that.” She waves away your card with a smile. “It’s been put on Statesman’s account.” She explains breezily. “It will be billed to you, at a heavy discount.”

"Oh." Vaguely wondering how many local businesses Statesman simply has an account at, you put your card away and give the woman a slightly dazed nod as you accept the bags she has packed for you. "Well-I...thank you, again."

Jack winks at Stephanie and nods at her politely before taking your bags. “Are we ready, sugar?”

"We're ready." This whole we and sugar business is the kind of thing that makes you feel like a schoolgirl - like you're going to go home tonight and call your sister from bed while you kick your legs and gleefully recall every detail of every interaction. And fuck - who knows - maybe you will. He's been wonderful today. Completely relieving you of any worry you had last night. "Time for dinner?"

“Only if you are ready for the best collards and cornbread you’ve ever stuffed in your sweet lookin’ little mouth.” The urge to compliment you is just too much. Depending on what he says, he gets a sassy comeback or you turn charmingly shy. Both are perfect in Jack’s book.

The eyebrow you raise in his direction is matched by a smirk, and you can’t help yourself. He’s getting more outlandish in his comments and it’s either a Southern thing that you just don’t have up in New England, or he might actually be flirting. “Been thinking about my mouth today, have you?”

“It’s a nice mouth.” Jack opens the door to the shop and lets you proceed him. “The day a man doesn’t think about a mouth that is sassy and sweet, sour and sugary, well - it’s the day they put him in the ground.”

You practically gasp at the admission, taking the garment bag with your gown and carefully arranging it amongst all the other boxes and bags in the back of the Bronco when you get outside. “So you’ve actually been flirting with me and I’m the idiot who just caught on?”

Jack shuffles, looking for the world like a man who’s gotten his hand caught in the cookie jar. He had been flirting and he hadn’t even realized it, the feeling so natural with you. Jack Daniels claims to be a born flirt, but ninety percent of it is an act. He hadn’t been acting with you. “Yes?” He asks, slightly worried that it might offend, given what you had said earlier.

He sounds worried, and you almost round the car to press a kiss to his cheek right there. But since the two of you had a short but legitimate conversation this morning about your dead soulmates, you decide not to push it and to just move with the flow of teasing. He seems to like it, and you have to admit to loving finding out that this man returns your attraction. “Good,” you hum, instead of doing anything sappy or too forward. “Keep it up.”

Jack’s grin is slow and he winks at you after he hops into the Bronco again, defying the need for the door. “Bossy lady.” He teases as he turns the key and the engine roars to life. “Easiest order ever, sugar.”

“I just know what I like, that’s all.” The victorious grin that overtakes your face settles there and stays as he pulls out onto the main road. You know what you like and you like him - right from the first second you saw him. It’s just that simple.

Jack drives you about five miles from the dress shop. The outside of the restaurant doesn’t look appealing, it’s the same facade of any strip mall in anywhere U.S.A. For Jack, that was part of the charm. Looks were deceiving. “Here we are, sugar.”

The outside looks like nothing at all, but through the glass windows you can see a line at the cafeteria counter that goes almost to the door. “Looks like we’re just in time for the dinner rush,” you shoot him a grin. “Perfect. Everything will be fresh.”

“Get two scoops of the collards or you’ll be waiting on a new pan.” Jack warns you, smirking as he opens the door and the scent of the buffet wafts out.

“Oh my god it smells like heaven.” The second you’re through the door you’re salivating, eagerly hopping into line with Jack at your side. “It smells like my grandmother’s house in here.”

“Your grandma cooked like this?” Jack asks, arching an eyebrow at you doubtfully.

“You think my coconut cake story was a lie?” You challenge him, grin twisting into the corner of your lips. “Grandma Jane was born and raised in Virginia. She only moved north after my older brother was born. According to her, being a long-distance granny simply was not an option.”

“Well then, let’s see if they cook as good as Grandma Jane from Virginia.” Jack teases, sending you a wink as the two of you get in line.

The building is absolutely packed to the gills, busy employees and happy customers all buzzing with their own energies. You and Jack slowly make your way up to the front of the line where regulars are being greeted by name, and you grin when one very maternal woman behind the counter lights up at the sight of him - this man seems to make an impression wherever he goes.

"Miss Mary, how are you doin' today?" Jack coos as he shuffles forward with you, a grin on his face and he sweeps his hat off his head and snatches her hand to kiss it playfully.

“Always missin’ you, Jack,” the woman laughs, swatting at him ineffectually and obviously enjoying this ritual playful flirtation. “You been in New York again? We ain’t seen you in a dog’s age.”

"No ma'am." Jack shakes his head mournfully. "Work pulled me farther away than New York, otherwise you know I would be flyin' down to sample your famous biscuits." He motions towards you and introduces you to the older woman. "Just had to show our newest Statesman member the best damn home cookin' around."

“Well, welcome, honey!” She shifts her attention to you with a beaming smile. “What is it you’re doin’ over there at the distillery, sweetheart?” “I’m a chef, actually.” You flash her a grin as if you’re both guilty of the same crime. “Brand new to the area, and I asked Jack to show me his favorite place. So here we are.”

"Oh well, I don't know if our cookin' 'ill be up to your standards, but let me know what you think." She looks impressed at the fact that you are a chef, as if running a wildly successful restaurant doesn't qualify her for the same thing. "Sweet Jack here was one of my first customers and sometimes he can be a little biased."

“I haven’t had real Southern cooking in about three years, so I’m excited to dig in.” You tell the woman honestly, making sure not to react to the inquisitive look on Jack’s face that you’re sure you’ll be answering for later. “I’m sure Jack’s bias is completely earned.”

Mary flusters, looking extremely pleased and flattered as she shoos you past. "Well you just enjoy and tell me all about it, you hear?" She demands, motioning you towards the drink station. "Get the sweet tea, honey. It's the real star of the show."

“I’m under orders, I guess. Not that anyone needs to encourage me to drink more sweet tea.” Turning to Jack as you move down the line together, you can see the question still in his eyes. “My grandmother died three years ago,” you explain. “There’s nowhere to get good Southern food in New Hampshire, and…cooking it myself hurt a little too much. Made me miss her too much. So I haven’t made anything except her coconut cake since the funeral.”

"I'm sorry, sugar." Jack knows about loss that just cripples you. He's lived with it for so long, he's functioning. At least as much as he could with his heart ripped out of his chest.

“Thank you.” It’s not ‘okay’, so you won’t say so even off-handedly, but you do slip the thin gold band from your wrist and show him the words written inside: Beautiful girl, you can do hard things. “My little sister had these made a few months later. It’s what she always used to tell us when we were worried or scared. So…she’s still with me. I know it’s not the same as losing your wife and son, but…I get what it feels like. Being so sad you can’t even open your eyes in the morning. I know that feeling.”

Jack stares at the phrase, his own eyes pricking with tears and he nods. "Loving someone is a curse sometimes, as much as it is a privilege."

“It is.” You nod and slip the band back on your wrist. “But that doesn’t mean we should stop. It just means the next person should be worth loving.”

Jack can't comment on that. Not when he's vowed to never love someone again. His own tea in hand, it's a silent perusal for a table, one set up in a small corner and he points to it. Unsure of if you will like it. He knows the silence is his fault, but how could he tell someone that he is wearing their tattoo that loving someone else wasn't in the cards for him.

It’s telling, the way chatty and openly flirtatious Jack clams up at your point of view, and you follow him to the table with a flash of melancholy in your understanding. He’s the kind of man who will simply never let go. No one will ever take his wife’s place and anyone that’s drawn his eye since is just a distraction. And for the life of you, you can’t understand why that makes your chest feel hollow and empty the way it does.

He hates that he's put a pall over the outing and once the teas are set down, he reaches for your hand. "Sorry, sugar." He murmurs softly. "It's just— it's hard to talk about. I don't mean to make you feel bad."

“Oh, I’m fine.” Lying through your teeth is what you are, but you smile for him anyway and squeeze his hand. “I think I went too long without eating, that’s all. It can affect my mood. Nothing to worry about.” Swallowing the lump squeezing your heart, you manage to find his eyes. “You can always talk to me. If you want to, I mean.”

"I appreciate that." He does, but he can't. Not without giving away the real issue. It's like your tattoo is burning and he rubs his arm absentmindedly. "Why don't we get you some grub and we can talk about less haunting things?"

“Sure.” You find yourself nodding around him quite a lot, content to be led by him through this new world you’re navigating. After all, you do like him. And Jack’s never given you a single reason not to trust him. “That sounds like a plan.”

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Jack Whiskey Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Kingsman Golden Circle #Soulmate au

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metalfairygirl · 6 months

Text

Family is not where you suffer (HEARTSTEEL Members & Female!Suffering!Teenager!Reader). Part 1.

Summary: You're a sixteen-year-old teenager who doesn't have a great life. Once your family was happy, but until the moment when your father was in a terrible accident and died, burned alive in the car. At that time you were only six years old, and that's when your mother became obsessed with alcohol. From that moment on, your life became a living hell. Ten years later, you got tired of suffering and decided to take a desperate step. But is it destined to happen?

Warnings: Mention of death, difficult childhood, alcoholic parents, domestic violence, rape, mention of self-harm, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, long post.

A/N: Hello everyone! I've already seen that a lot of users have already become obsessed with the new virtual group, as well as me. And it was at two o'clock in the morning that I had the idea to write this nonsense. I will say right away that your meeting with the band members will be different, but then everything will go according to one storyline (but this will be in the second part). There may be inaccuracies in the work, since English is not my native language. There are many violent topics here, so I ask the faint-hearted not to read. I warned you! I also want to express my gratitude to those who inspired me to write this fan fiction. You guys are great! I adore you!: @ioniansunsets; @heartsteel-heartbeats; @timetoeatthebread-blog; @duckchu; @saey707. Have fun reading!

Background.

In a small apartment, music was playing at full volume, accompanied by the drunken singing of two voices. One is female, the other is male. All this was happening in a small kitchen that now looked like some kind of pigsty. Cigarette butts and empty alcohol bottles were scattered everywhere, and from this there was a rather nasty smell in the air, from which anyone would vomit. The table itself was stained with vomit mixed with tobacco ash. Ugh, it's disgusting. Yes, the couple had a great day.

At that moment, the front door of the apartment creaked open, letting in a third inhabitant. As soon as you entered, the sharp smell of alcohol, tobacco and vomit hit you in the nose, but you did not react to it. You've been used to it for a long time. So this is far from new to you. After examining the corridor, you found only clothes and shoes scattered on the floor. You growled softly but viciously. You were cleaning up all night last night, and they messed it up again. Fucking drunks... There was no other way you could have named your parents.

More precisely, you had one parent, it was your mother. And her new husband was your stepfather. You didn't have a father, because he died in a terrible accident when you were little, and your mother was normal and happy. Your dad was coming home from work then. You planned to have a real celebration in honor of his promotion. Your mom cooked a wonderful dinner, and you helped her. Everything is like in happy families. But the holiday was not destined to happen. At one point, the news began to be broadcast on TV. It said about a terrible accident where a man was burned alive. And that man turned out to be your father. When your mom listened to this, she froze in place with a plate and a cloth in her hands. Her eyes were dilated and her heart was pounding wildly. And you yourself have fallen into a strong state of shock. Everything around you seems to have disappeared. It's like an abyss surrounded you, filled with misunderstanding and fear. From this semblance of a trance, you were pulled out by the sound of a breaking plate that fell to the floor. Looking first at the already broken plate, and then at your mom, you noticed how she was shaking. It's like she was launched naked into Antarctica. And then loud sobs followed. She covered her face with the rag she was holding in her hand and began to sob loudly, not restraining her emotions. It turns out that the culprit of the whole celebration was a drunk driver who drove into the oncoming lane and collided with your father's car. That bastard only got off with a severed arm, and your dad died. He died because of some fucking drunk pig. You still wish this bitch was burning in hell right now, or that your father would come to them in a dream and strangle this bitch. And that's when your life changed forever.

At first, your mother grieved very much and shed tears. It is understandable that the loss of her husband greatly harmed her soul. You also cried with her, not believing that you would never see your dad again. After that, she started drinking to numb her pain. Many will think that yes, at first it is difficult to come to terms with the loss of a loved one, and therefore many drink alcohol to forget about the soul-devouring grief for a while, but somehow not so. Yes, your mother soon forgot about your father and let him go. But her grief turned into something terrible. She grabbed one bottle, then another, absorbing their contents. With each bottle of alcohol, her kindness and love for everything in the world faded away. You tried to somehow encourage her and support her, so that these qualities would not disappear in her. She said that everything would be fine and it was temporary. You were a little girl then and believed her, but you didn't understand the seriousness of the situation. And then your sweet and loving mom left. In her place came another. Angry, cruel and always drunk. Alcohol became her main obsession.

And then your life turned into a nightmare. Every day there are screams, scandals, late-night drinking and even beatings. Your mother has completely new methods of your upbringing. Every day she left more and more bruises and scratches on your body, which you had to hide so that the school would not find out what was happening at your house. During elementary school, you couldn't work, so you went to the neighbors to feed you, because of alcoholism, your mother stopped going to work, which is why she was fired. But she did not seek it either. You may ask, why didn't the neighbors call the guardianship authorities and report on the situation in your family? And everything is very simple. In your city, the guardianship system worked terribly. And the main thing is that the representatives of the authorities only ruffled the nerves of well-off families, and they just put a huge bolt on families like yours. And your neighbors knew about it perfectly well. Yes, they came to you, but they just looked at your apartment and left. And at that moment, your mother was sober and played a caring and responsible woman. The house was clean, because your mother didn't arrange the mess. And they didn't even find a bottle! In general, after watching the whole circus, they left and never came back. So you continued to live with your crazy mother.

One day you realized that you would have to rely only on yourself. You were completely alone in this gray and cruel world. There was almost no one to help you, but to some extent you were afraid to call for help. Your mother won't help you anymore. Even when you somehow managed to go to school, then after that your mother gave up on it. She completely gave up on your development and education. Her main goal was to pour as much alcohol into herself as possible and fall into unconsciousness. But you still loved her with your boundless childish love. You didn't care then whether she drank or not, you continued to love her and take care of her. But she didn't even respond to your care. And it was at that moment that you realized that you had no one else to expect help from. Your main support was yourself. You began to live for yourself and your future. It doesn't matter what obstacles stand in your way, but you had to be strong and confident to overcome them. And you should always be determined. So you had to grow up early...

At first everything was more or less normal. In elementary school, you had excellent grades, teachers did not scold you for mistakes and helped you in every way. It seemed to you that this would continue, that everything would be great for you at school, and that you would not be offended. Naive girl... That was until the moment when you went to high school and you reached adolescence. That's when you fully felt what it was like to be an outcast. They started laughing at you and scheming in every possible way. Who will trip you up, who will spill water on you, and who will even start watering you with obscene language. You were constantly bullied and mocked at you. They were constantly pointing fingers at you and saying how poor and miserable you were, and also that you were the daughter of an alcoholic. At first, of course, you were offended, but then you started ignoring them, considering them complete idiots who were spoiled by their richer parents. They continued to mock you in every possible way, but you just didn't hear them. As if they didn't exist. But soon they got tired of their "toy", so to speak, no longer reacting to them. And they came to more terrible methods. Your own classmates started beating you regularly. They locked you in the toilet, and then they would crowd on you with their fists, hitting you wherever they wanted and could. And others stood aside and filmed everything that was happening on the camera of their phones, smiling and laughing, satisfying their sadistic inclinations. And you were lying on the cold floor and screaming in pain, covering yourself with your hands so that they could not hit you in the most vulnerable places. You didn't understand why they hated you so much. You were just like them. The same age, and received the same knowledge as they did. But still, you were far from like them. Unlike them, you were chasing knowledge in order to get the desired profession in the future. You were interested in everything that could somehow attract you. You tried to help everyone, no matter what kind of person it is. You weren't rich, but your wealth was kindness and love. You were different. And they hated you for it. People can't stand those who don't look like them. And for this they should be humiliated. That's what your classmates thought. You went to school every day, like to hard labor, knowing how your peers treat you there. But you endured it all. And saved up in your soul.

Soon your mother brought to your house a man who was her old drinking companion. He was tall, several times taller than you. His hands were like two huge logs that could crush anyone to smithereens. He was dressed very untidily. Everywhere you looked, you could see greasy stains on almost every part of his clothes. And apparently he didn't wash it, because the smell was very unpleasant, so much so that you wanted to vomit. But his face was not so good either. Your mother told you that he was thirty-six years old, but he looked like he was fifty-five. There were very noticeable wrinkles on the forehead, and there were a lot of swelling on the rest of the face. His hair was disheveled and greasy, like the homeless people you sometimes met on the streets of the city. And this man is thirty-six years old? You didn't even think that alcohol changes people so much. But that wasn't the most important thing. The most terrible thing was that your mother said that he would be your stepfather. That's when you got really angry. You already have enough of your mom's drunkenness, and then she dragged some dirty lout home?! Is this drunken pig going to be your stepfather?! Without saying a word then, you went to your room, where you took out of the closet a leather jacket that your father always wore. You immediately felt such a native smell of his favorite cologne, which was soaked in his jacket. Sitting on the bed, you put it on yourself and... cried. Tears rolled down your cheeks, falling to the floor with a characteristic quiet thud.

"Dad... Daddy, I feel so bad... I don't want this guy to be my new dad... I want you to come back, Dad... I'm lonely without you... Daddy..." You whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself and tucking your legs under you.

This jacket is the only thing you have left from your father. You always kept it in your closet and wore it in cold weather. So you felt safe, and also felt calm. Every night, instead of a blanket, you put on this leather jacket and fell asleep, imagining that it was your father hugging you. This jacket always brought you back to the days when your dad was alive and you were all happy. His image is forever imprinted in your memory. His wide smile, kind eyes and loving gaze. It's a pity that it can't be returned. And so you would like to...

After that, things got even worse. Your stepfather started beating you along with your mom for any mistake you made, even the smallest one. Every time you returned home, you were met with another slap in the face and interrogation. The man himself was even more violent and cruel than your mother. He could just come up to you and hit you with such force that the bruised place would hurt for a very long time. Several times he dragged you by the hair and beat you against the wall. It hurt like hell. You hated him more than anything in the world.

Every day has been a real torture for you. You've suffered and suffered and suffered. You wanted to disappear from this world, into which you came for no clear reason. Very often, when you saw some drunk on the street, your hands automatically clenched into fists, and one desire flared up in your soul. Torture and kill this miserable pig. But you understood that if you commit murder, you will go to jail for a very long time. And it's even worse in prison than at home and at school. Therefore, you took out all the desire to commit an inhumane act on yourself. You beat yourself, scratched your skin, sometimes you cut yourself, but not your veins. The desire to live was still there.

All that made you live was music. No, not the one that your drunk parents usually listen to, but your favorite one. For the most part, these were groups consisting of young guys. Their cheerful attitude always made you forget all the troubles and continue to live. Every time you listened to your favorite songs, a stone fell from your soul that hurt you. Music was your only salvation. It was your corner where you could calm down and find strength.

At the age of fourteen, you found a job where you were finally able to earn money, although not very big, but it's better than going hungry and in old torn clothes. You were happy with every bill you earned with your hard work, which you put aside for new clothes or a gadget. While your classmates were drinking with their parents' money, you were working to feed and clothe yourself. You've even started to forget that you have two alcoholics living at home who should raise you, but they don't do it. It would seem that what could be worse than them and their beatings? And then you experienced one of the worst humiliations in the world...

One day when you returned from work, you didn't find your mother at home. She probably went somewhere. Only your stepfather was at home. Ignoring this, you went to your room, but then you felt someone's strong hands pinning you to the wall. It was your stepfather, who looked at you with a predatory gaze. You tried to escape, but all attempts were in vain. And then something happened that finally destroyed your already damaged psyche. It was humiliating. The way his hands touched you in not the most decent places, the way he beat you and tore your clothes. The way he violated your personal space. You were screaming from the wild pain that was tearing you apart from the inside. Tears rolled down your cheeks in streams, and you didn't feel your legs and arms at all. And then you blacked out. You woke up on the hallway floor. All your clothes were torn, there were bruises and bruises on your body, and you were lying in a puddle of all this shame. Everything hurt incredibly badly, especially the lower abdomen. That day you locked yourself in a room and sobbed while your stepfather was sleeping in the hall. Fucking bastard. You hit yourself on the shoulder. You wanted to kill him. You scratched your forehead. You hated him. You hated your mother. You hated your classmates. You hated all the alcoholics in the world. Suffering. Your whole life is suffering.

Now you have entered your room and sat down at the table to do your homework, as well as prepare for exams a little. You didn't work much today because you were released early, so it was time to study. But the calm did not last long.

"Hey... bitch, where have... you... been?..." Your stepfather asked when he burst into your room.

Snorting, you slowly turned to him and stared at him with an irritated look. He was standing in the doorway, leaning against the jamb. He could barely stand on his feet. It seemed that a little more, and he would collapse on the floor and fall asleep on it. He was holding a half-empty vodka bottle in his hand. No wonder, he always drank it from the throat, without biting or drinking. His gaze was distracted, but angry. A stream of saliva ran down his chin. Ugh, it's a disgusting sight.

"Father, I just got home from work and I'm going to do my homework. Can you please leave me alone? Exams won't pass themselves."

You said, looking at him disdainfully with a contemptuous glance. Growling, the man slammed the door and went to his room. Exhaling, you turned to your desk and started studying. You had to put on headphones so as not to hear the drunken screams.

The very first thing you put on the audition is a new song by a completely new band "HEARTSTEEL." You stumbled upon them completely by accident. You were just flipping through a social media feed and at one point you came across a post that a new band would release their first song. That interested you. And then you got sucked into the whole topic. You started to constantly follow the updates and news. You found out about all the participants. And honestly, you admired them. Ezreal is a passionate lover of discovering something new, Sett is brave and courageous, ready to protect anyone, K'Sante is supportive and strong, Yone is calm and reasonable, Aphelios is quiet and very talented, and Kayn is a guy who will go against any rules in order to achieve his goal. Each of them gave you motivation to get up and go to your goal. They gave you hope that everything would be fine.

Right now, the main thing for you was to finish school, go to university and leave your parents. And it was these guys who gave you the motivation for this.

After completing your homework and exam preparation, you headed to the kitchen to cook dinner for yourself and your parents. They can't just eat alcohol. When you entered the kitchen, you again found them at the table, drinking another bottle. Rolling your eyes, you started cooking.

"Mom, Dad, will you eat?" You asked while slicing bread.

They didn't pay attention to you right away. They stared at one point with their mouths slightly open, hunched over the table. The first sign of movement was given by your mother. She slowly turned her head towards you and looked at you with her misty gaze. After which she muttered softly.

"Yes-s-s..."

Shrugging your shoulders, you continued cooking. While you were cutting up the groceries, it seemed strange to you that your mom and stepfather were sitting almost motionless and silent, staring at nothing. In this state, you almost never saw them, because they usually sat at the table and sang songs, drinking alcohol along the way. You were standing and looking at them, and something alarm suddenly appeared in you. It seemed to you that something bad would happen in a few moments, and that you urgently needed to get up. And they sat and hardly moved. It's like time has stopped, by God. But after inhaling and exhaling, you continued cooking, no longer paying attention to them. But the silence was still interrupted by your mother.

"Y-Y/N, my d-daughter... Dad and... I want t-to... talk to... you..." She barely stammered with her slurred tongue.

When you heard the word "Dad", you slightly squeezed the edge of the countertop with your hands. The muscles tensed at the same moment.

«He's not my father and he never will be...»

It was this thought that first visited your head for a short period of time. You still couldn't get it into your head that this drunk was playing the role of your father. And he does it the wrong way, from the word at all. From these thoughts, you involuntarily had a small shiver down your back, which made you wince. But with grief in half, you slowly turned to your parents and, with a convulsive sigh, folded your arms on your chest. Looking away, you answered.

"I'm listening to you..."

Your mother continued.

"Daught-ter, you are... already an a-adult... and... you understand... e-everythin-ng." She babbled, pouring vodka into a glass, and then drinking it in one gulp.

"Don't delay, I need to eat and go to bed. I have to go to work tomorrow." You snorted, already knowing that it would take a long time.

The woman continued.

"We've been... thin-nking a-and dec-cided... that... we want to h-have... a... s-second ch-child. You know, to... hav-ve a brother or sist-ter, ri-ight?" She said all this while looking at you with her glass eyes.

From what you heard, your eyes involuntarily widened and your eyebrows rose. It seemed to you that you were listening to the nonsense of some mentally ill person who did not understand what situation they was in. In principle, it was, but your mother was not a crazy psycho, but dependent on alcohol. And it still didn't bring you a sense of relief. It was much worse. If she carries a child, she will simply kill them at the stage of their development, given how much alcohol is contained in her body. This thought made the blood in your veins boil with increasing rage and indignation. Didn't she realize that she was a threat to the child? Apparently not.

Straightening up and staring straight at your mother, you blurted out with all your might, putting in all your anger.

"Mom, are you crazy at all?! What child?! You drink for days on end, and your blood is completely soaked with alcohol! Don't you understand that this will simply KILL the child?! It seems to me that you are no longer friends with brains at all!"

Your stepfather intervened in the conversation.

"What did you just say, you little thing?! Did you call her a stupid psycho?! Come here, you bastard!"

You already realized what he was going to do to you, and at the same moment you took off in order to get to your room as soon as possible and lock yourself in it, but you didn't have time. His strong hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you sharply towards him, causing severe pain, from which you screamed loudly. You had the feeling that he wanted to tear it off.

"You little shite, who are you to open your fucking mouth?! Now I'll teach you when to speak!!!"

"No, ple- Aaaahhh!!!"

The first blow landed right in your face, causing you to stagger and fall to the floor. From the collision with the floor, you groaned through your teeth. But they didn't even let you catch your breath, as you were kicked in the stomach, which caused you to fall to the floor again. The next blow you received in the side, then in the lower back. The pain was unbearable. You screamed and asked to stop all this, but your stepfather didn't care. Your torment brought him wild pleasure and satisfaction. You wriggled in every way and tried to avoid blows, but everything was useless. The man was too strong. Before that, his blows were strong, but not so much as to cause you such terrible torment. This time he was truly furious and beat you with all his might, trying not to leave a living place on you. You thought a couple more punches and he'd kill you. Each blow pulled out of you a loud cry filled with pain and anguish. Burning and salty rivulets were already flowing down your face. And the worst was yet to come.

"Dad, please... Ahh!!!"

"Shut up, bitch! You have no right to open your fucking mouth without my permission! You're nobody! You are a pitiful creature with no right to life! You shouldn't have been in this world at all!"

And your mother was still sitting at the table and watching everything that was happening. There was zero emotion on her face. Absolute indifference. She didn't care that her own child was being beaten like never before. She didn't care that her daughter was suffering at the hands of that bastard. She didn't care that she was screaming in pain and suffering. And you looked at her with tear-stained eyes and begged her with a look that she would at least do something, but she was relentless. She sat and watched it with a stony face, as if she was watching some movie, and there was a scene of violence in it, which was your beating now. Did she really want you to suffer like this? What have you done to her? After all, everything you said is true. They don't take offense at the truth, do they? Isn't that right?!

Meanwhile, your stepfather grabbed your hair and started pulling hard on it, making you scream even louder. Clutching your head, you tried to somehow drown out the pain and escape, but to no avail. The man's grip was just dead. It was as if his hands had turned to stone, attached to your strands. Pain shot through your entire head, reaching all the way to your neck. It seemed to you that a little more and he would pull out your hair along with the skin and meat.

Then he also pulled you to your feet by the hair, and then threw you into the wall with all his strength. So you hit your head hard, but you didn't pass out. And only then, when the man hit your head against that damn wall a few more times, you felt warm liquid trickling down your face. Running your fingertips over your temple and looking at them, you saw blood.

Distracted from the blood and turning to your stepfather, you saw him raise his fist over his head. And then it hit you like an electric shock. You took off like a bullet and rushed to your room. You heard menacing and heavy footsteps behind you, along with a voice shouting death threats at you. That brief moment of running seemed like an eternity to you. Finally, when you reached the cherished door, you grabbed the handle and turned it. A click, then a creak. You're already inside. At the last moment, you locked the door so that this asshole wouldn't get in. And he tried. He was banging on your door, screaming and puffing. And you, huddled in the corner of the room, did not take your eyes off the door, breathing heavily, chained by the chains of fear and horror of the experience. No, you couldn't do that anymore. You need to get out of here. Anywhere, as long as it's away from them!

To the sound of banging on the door, you grabbed your backpack and started packing quickly. Clothes, pen, sheets of paper, money, headphones, phone - all this turned out to be in your backpack. And then you quickly dressed in jeans and a hoodie, because it was November outside. You should have dressed warmer. And only then did you pull out your father's leather jacket from the closet, which you put on over a hoodie. As soon as you put it on, you instantly felt calm and determined. Putting a backpack on your back, you went to the window. The first floor is too low, you can't break.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by an incredibly loud bang on the door of your room. You saw that the wooden door had already given a small crack. Time is short, you need to jump out of the window and run. Standing on the windowsill and fully opening the window, you sighed and pulled yourself together and jumped out into the street. You landed on the asphalt safely, without breaking anything when landing. Without looking back at the window of your room, you got to your feet and ran wherever your eyes looked.

You ran without taking apart the road. Silhouettes of people and buildings flashed rapidly before your eyes. Andrenaline was raging in your body, which made you rush like lightning. You didn't feel your legs that were carrying you to some unknown place. All you were thinking about right now was WHERE to run to. You didn't have any friends or relatives. You had no one to go to. You knew there was no one to help you. You are completely alone in this world. You are a lone wolf that roams the world, surviving in it and relying only on yourself. All the moments of your life flashed before your eyes. You remembered all your torments and sufferings. All the pain that has been inflicted on you endlessly. From this, the hole in your soul became bigger and bigger, devouring all the beautiful particles, like a hungry pack of yard dogs. Tears rolled down your face in an instant. Your whole life is a continuous torment. The whole world hated you. No one wanted to help you, much less comfort and support you. Nobody cared. Your dad died a long time ago, and your kind and loving mom also left you, leaving behind only her vile and nasty shadow. And since everyone didn't care about you, why are you here? Why do you have to suffer and shed endless tears? Is it really impossible to disappear from this world? Who cares about you? That's right, no one. And probably the best option would be to disappear. No one will notice anything. Although not. No. Some should notice. They should know.

Running into the first park you came across, you sat down on a bench and, unbuttoning your backpack, took out a piece of paper and a pen, after which you began to write convulsively.

"Hi. If you found my body, you probably found this note. I'm tired of living in this rotten world and suffering every day. I was constantly experiencing fear and pain that gradually enveloped my body, mind and soul. But now I'm free. And now the only thing that can bring me peace forever is that those who hurt me will see my body. Police, search party, rescuers, or whatever they call you, please fulfill my posthumous request. Show my body to my classmates, teachers, and especially parents. Let them see what their actions have led to. I want to see the reaction and, hopefully, horror and regret for what I did. Let these creatures see the suffering frozen on my face, see the dead eyes soaked with tears. Then, perhaps, I will find peace, knowing that they have seen the fruits of their filthy labors. Goodbye and please don't hurt others."

Exhaling, you folded the sheet and put it in your backpack along with the pen. And it was at this moment that a heavy downpour poured down, as if the heavens themselves were mourning your imminent departure from this cursed world that people had spoiled, but you didn't care about it. You just kept sitting on the bench and getting wet, remembering your whole short life. A life that was filled only with torments and torments. But soon it will all be over, and you will find such a long-awaited freedom from cold shackles. Today you needed to rest, and tomorrow you will do what you were already ready and eager for.

Your meeting with the members.

Aphelios.

The next morning you headed out of city. To a place where no one lived. You spent the whole night in the park, lying on a bench. You have never rejected the idea of your own demise. You were already fully attuned to this. Therefore, it's time to put your plan into action.

All the way you were accompanied by a light cold breeze that played with your hair. Dry leaves of orange and yellow hues crunched underfoot. You passed by people who were going about their business and thinking about their own, not even suspecting that the girl who passed by them would soon leave this world forever.

And finally, the city was left behind. You were greeted by large and thin, bare trees. They towered over you, and the wind stirred from the branch, and it seemed as if they were inviting you to enter their abode. Without any emotion on your face, you entered this gloomy and cold forest. The atmosphere was suitable. Tension, melancholy and apathy. As if everyone had already found out what was going to happen soon. And you moved on. It was as if you were drawn somewhere. And that something brought you to the place that was perfect for your plan.

It was a large and abandoned concrete building. It was so cold and damp. Emptiness. Yes, the perfect place. With these thoughts, you went to it, looking at its empty windows. A gray and dreary building, in which there was not a soul. Already entering inside, this darkness caught your eye. Any normal person would immediately leave this place out of harm's way, but not you. The first step has already decided everything. And then the second, third, fourth and fifth. The darkness of this building gradually sucked you in, and soon you completely disappeared into it.

Aphelios wandered among the thin and bare trees, and the fallen leaves crunched under his feet. He admired all this beauty of autumn and was glad that he was finally able to get out of this city bustle. There's no traffic noise, no chatter. Silence, calmness, and the whisper of the wind that jumped on thin branches. Breathing in the cool air, the guy with ruby-red eyes was filled with inspiration to write a new composition. And it's good that he was in such a wilderness. Here he will not be annoyed by the eternal grumbling of Kayn, nor by the comic showdowns of Sett and K'Sante. And besides, his sister advised him to take a break from this routine fuss and get out of town somewhere. Alune will not advise anything bad. Aphelios has already been convinced of this many times.

After a long but not tedious walk, Aphelios finally came across a large and gray abandoned building. Chuckling, the guy already understood where he should write a composition. But he has to be careful. You never know what kind of psycho is hiding there. Fortunately, he took a stun gun with him. Aphelios read a lot of stories about abandonments and therefore he prepared for this campaign.

Determined, he moved forward, deciding to walk around the building. He also wanted to take some photos for the cover of the song. Passing near the building, Aphelios examined each brick. With his fingertips, he touched the rough surface of the walls, passing over them in order to absorb as much of this energy and atmosphere as possible. Silence. A blissful silence that nothing and no one can break. And then a distant shuffling and someone's whispering.

The red-eyed man stopped immediately. What, he's not alone here? No, no, he just imagined it. Trying not to move, he listened. At first there was nothing, but then there was shuffling again. This was followed by footsteps and... sobs. Didn't he hear it? Was someone really crying there? He listened again. No, well, in nature, someone was crying. After listening closely, Aphelios realized that this cry was made by a girl. He wonder what she was doing here at all? Out of curiosity, the guy went to this sound. As a result, he stopped at the turn to the other side of the building. But this time there was no crying. What? How? He just heard it. Nothing is clear. But then shuffling. Sticking his head around the corner, the red-eyed man was horrified. On the fifth floor of the building there was a teenager - a girl of about sixteen. She was standing right at the very edge, her fists clenched. Tears were streaming down her reddened face. She was looking ahead and shaking all over. Aphelios was seriously scared. Is she going to jump? He quickly started darting his eyes from the girl, then to the ground and back again. The fifth floor, and the ground is solid below. She's going to crash! But before he could return his gaze to the ground again, the girl had already gone out the window and flew down. Damn it! He had to catch her! Taking off and quickly covering the distance to the place of the fall, Aphelios stood up and put his hands forward, preparing to catch the suicide.

It seemed like an eternity had passed. You were flying down, closing your eyes, already resigned to the fact that now your head will turn into a bloody mess. But it wasn't meant to happen, because you felt like someone's hands caught you. And then you fell on a carpet of leaves with this someone. You understood absolutely nothing. Who wanted to save you from the fate you wanted? Who decided to leave you in a world full of torment? You turned your head and saw a guy with turquoise hair and blood-red eyes. He was sitting on the ground, holding you to him with one hand. You recognized him. It was Aphelios from the band HEARTSTEEL. What the fuck was he doing in the middle of nowhere? Wasn't he supposed to be with the other guys in the band right now? Your train of thought was interrupted by a whisper.

"Why?"

"I... I... I have the same question... Why did you do that? I wanted to die, and you... you!"

Tears involuntarily flowed from your eyes. Anger, despair, pain and resentment splashed out in the form of salty streams. This sight made Aphelios unbearable to watch the poor girl crying. Is it how bad everything is for you that you decided to do this? He didn't know that. He could only sigh and hug you to him.

"H-Huh?..."

You were in the deepest shock. It was the first time you've been hugged in such a long time. You... You felt this warmth again, which you haven't received for so long, and which you craved so much. The last time your late dad hugged you like that, and that's what made you burst into tears even more and cling to Aphelios' jacket with your hands.

"It's all good... Don't be afraid of me... I won't hurt you..."

His whispering had a sedative effect on you. You stopped shaking like a leaf in the wind and relaxed. Gradually, your loud crying subsided, taking with it all your negative feelings, leaving only emptiness.

Wrapping one arm around your shoulders, Aphelios whispered.

"Let's go. It's going to be dark soon."

Without answering in any way, you went together to the exit of this forest. When you finally reached the city, it was already evening, but the lights of the city illuminated the way. You stopped at a small cafe to catch your breath. And besides, the guy wanted you to warm up more or less, because when he walked with his arm around your shoulders, he felt that your clothes were wet. And last night there was a heavy downpour, so he guessed that you got under it. He ordered you a hot drink. All this time you've been sitting and staring at nothing. There was a void in your soul and head that you didn't know how to fill.

Meanwhile, Aphelios corresponded with his sister.

«Hello, Alune. Did I disturb you by any chance?»

«No, Phel. What happened? Are you going back already?»

«Yes, I'm on my way back. But I have some problem.»

«What happened? What's the problem???»

«I'll explain now. When I was walking through the woods, where you advised me to go, I came across a five-story abandoned building. I thought there was no one there, so I went there. Well, to record a composition there. When I got closer, I heard extraneous sounds. At first I thought I was imagining it, but it turned out that I wasn't. First there was shuffling, then footsteps, and then crying.»

«Crying???! 😨😨 And who cried?»

«It was a girl, as I realized then. Then out of curiosity I decided to take a look. And when I looked around the corner, I just fucked up. In general, there was a girl of about sixteen standing on the fifth floor. She cried and looked into the distance. Her hands and lips were shaking as if she had been launched naked into Antarctica. Do you know what the worst thing is?»

«What???😨»

«She was fucking standing on the edge, you know? ON THE VERY FUCKING EDGE!!!»

«Seriously??!! Did she really want to...???»

«Yes! It's a blessing that I managed to catch her before she crashed to her death...»

«What a horror... It's good that you were there in time. If it wasn't for you, then... Ehh, okay... Where is she now?»

«We're sitting in a cafe right now. We decided to take a break. Besides, she needs to be warmed up. She's all wet. She probably hasn't been home since last night.»

«What is she doing?»

«She just sits there and doesn't move much. Staring at nothing.»

«She's probably in a state of shock.»

«Alune, she's unlikely to tell me anything in the near future. I don't even know her name. Do you think it would be better if I brought her with me? And by the way, are the guys sleeping?»

«Yes, everyone is asleep, but Kayn has gone somewhere. He's probably being aired. And yes, you're right, bring her to us. She'll take a shower and sleep. Tomorrow we'll get together and find out everything.»

«Good. She will sleep in my room. See you later, sis.»

Putting the phone in his jacket pocket, Aphelios turned his attention back to you. Your posture and look haven't changed. Already when a hot drink was brought to you, you reluctantly took the mug in your hands and began to drink slowly. The musician immediately noticed that your hands were shaking a little. Alune was right, you're in shock.

After a while, when you finished your drink, you and the guy went out.

On the way, Aphelios thought about how everything would go tomorrow. He had a good day after all. He came to the forest to write a song, and he returns with a teenager who almost committed suicide. But he was still glad that he had saved a poor and so young soul from death. Nothing, tomorrow they will figure out what to do with you next.

Ezreal.

Sitting on a bench in the park, you looked up at the sky, from where heavy and cold raindrops fell that hit your skin on your face. The cold tried to get under your clothes, but you wrapped yourself even more in your father's leather jacket. Plan by plan, but you didn't want to freeze. You were thinking about where it would be best to spend the night, but you had no options. You had nowhere to go, and it was dangerous to go home, because you didn't know if your crazy stepfather had calmed down. Memories of the experience earlier made themselves felt. The temple began to throb painfully.

Wincing, you ran your finger over the place where a small river of red liquid had flowed out before. No, there was nothing. Thanks to the cap, the bleeding was stopped, but the pain did not go away. Reaching into your backpack again, you took out a pack of painkillers and a bottle of water. Fortunately, you always carried them with you just in case. Taking one tablet, throwing it into your mouth and drinking water, you exhaled, leaned back against the back of the bench, throwing your head back.

You thought about going to some small shop and asking the owner to warm up, but you realized that if you were accepted, then questions would begin. And then you will be invited to their home at all so that you can warm up and sleep. Okay, you'll sleep and rest, but in the morning you'll have to go to an empty and deserted place and execute your plan. And there may also be a chance that the owner of the shop may be a very kind person who wanted to help you, and you can get attached to them. It will be cruel to them if you leave without saying anything, and after a while they finds out that you committed suicide altogether. After all, they gave you warmth, comfort and care, and in this way you repaid them. No, no, you're not going anywhere. You can't get attached to people right now, you'll just be an extra burden on their shoulders. Who needs a pathetic and traumatized teenager?

Exhaling convulsively, you put your backpack on the edge of the bench, and then completely lay down on it, as on a bed, propping your knees to your chest. Your backpack has replaced your pillow, and your father's jacket is a blanket, as always. The rare people who passed by paid absolutely no attention to you. Of course, some tramp decided to rest. Let her lie and get wet, and this is no longer their concern, they have more important things to do. Soulless scums...

Gradually, your eyes began to slowly close. You didn't care about the rain that was inexorably pouring down on your exhausted body. Now you just wanted to fall into oblivion. You didn't even want to dream. Only a pitch-black void. And after a few moments, you fell where you wanted to.

Ezreal breathed in the morning and cool air that was soaked with moisture left over from last night's downpour. In his hand, hidden by a glove, he held a glass of coffee, which he periodically drank in order to protect himself from the cold of autumn. The morning was earlier, and there were almost no people on the street. And it was only to our early bird's advantage. He just wanted to be alone and enjoy the morning tranquility. And a cup of coffee only gave this atmosphere coziness and even some aesthetics.

And just by the way, the entrance to the park came into his field of vision. Great, he can sit on a bench there and fully immerse himself in this atmosphere. What can stop him?

Entering the park, Ezreal began to look around. There were trees everywhere, with leaves of all kinds of fiery shades falling from them every now and then. From bright yellow to burgundy, like royal velvet. The ground was littered with these very leaves, thereby decorating it. A kind of natural carpet on which anyone would want to lie down to feel part of all this beauty. The guy felt like he was in a fairy tale.

But then his gaze fell on one of the benches that stood in the park. He looked closer and saw that a person was lying on it. From afar, it was unclear to him who was lying there. At first he thought it was a homeless person or some kind of alcoholic. But as soon as he got a few steps closer, his guesses were instantly refuted. A sad sight opened before his eyes. On the bench, curled up like a little kitten, lay a sixteen-year-old girl, all soaked through. Her face was pale as a toadstool, her lips were blue from the cold. And the tips of her fingers were trembling slightly. Had she been lying here all night and getting wet in the rain? And no one bothered to help her? Ezreal stood and looked at her, thinking how selfish it would take to pass by a freezing and lonely girl. He also wondered why she was here all alone. Had she run away from home? No, it won't work that way. She needs help.

Approaching the bench, the guy put his hand on her shoulder and began to gently push her to wake her up.

"Hey, beauty, wake up. What are you doing here alone?"

You were brought out of the dream by someone's hand gently pushing you, as well as someone's voice.

"Mmh?..."

Somehow opening your eyes that were stuck together, you looked at the person who came up to you. At first everything was blurry, but the first thing that caught your eye was the hair the color of spring grass. Then everything became more or less clear, and soon you could see the owner of these very hair and voice. What was your surprise when you saw in front of you not some ordinary guy, but Ezreal himself - the vocalist of the band HEARTSTEEL.

"Hi. Oh my God, you're all wet! Have you been here all night?!"

And you were still lying on the bench and staring at him in a stupor. In his eyes, you saw the concern that was also imbued with his voice. Was he worried about you? No... No, no, no, not now. You can't betray your feelings, you can't cry, you can't cry...

"Hey, hey, why are you crying? Did I do something wrong?"

"N... n... N-No..."

Sitting next to you, he wrapped one arm around you, thereby forcing you to take a sitting position. You covered your face with your hands and still continued to shed tears, leaning forward. The green-haired guy just shook his head, and then, putting his hand on your back, began stroking, trying to comfort you. It was the first time anyone had been worried about you in such a long time. Many would have simply rejected it, believing that it was a trifle, but for you it was comparable to a real treasure. The most real and expensive.

But after a while you calmed down.

"Everything okay? Are you feeling better?"

You just nodded at that. Sighing, Ezreal got up from the bench, and then stretched out his hand to help you get up. Without forgetting your backpack, you went together to the exit of the park. You were silent for several minutes, but Ezreal decided to break this silence.

"So tell me, what were you doing here all night, huh?"

"... I was sleeping."

"Logically. But still... why? What were you doing here all alone, and even at night?"

"I don't know..."

"Friend, there's a reason for everything. I can see that you've been preparing for this."

The guy said, pointing to your backpack. Damn, what were you supposed to say now?

"Did you run away from home?"

"What?! No, no, I am... actually... yes..."

"Hmmm..."

Ezreal stopped and looked away, putting his hand on his chin, rubbing it with his thumb and forefinger. You were standing next to him and looked at him with an emotionless look. You didn't really care what he decided. If only not...

"Good. I'll take you back to your house. Your parents are probably worried about you..."

Parents... That word made your pupils narrow and your eyes widen to the size of saucers. A shiver ran through your whole body, causing a herd of goosebumps. Your arms and legs began to shake involuntarily, your palms clung to the straps of the backpack like a lifeline. Your heart was pounding like crazy, as if it wanted to break out like a bird in a cage.

"No... No... No... Don't..."

"Hey, friend, what's wrong with you? You're kind of pale and... Oh, my God..."

The impact on the ground echoed in his ears. He watched you sitting on the ground, clutching your head and repeating the same words.

"No... No... Don't want... Don't want... I'm not coming back... Hate... Hate..."

"This is bad... I have to do something..."

Picking up the phone, Ezreal instantly logged into Discord and started a group call. He didn't have to wait long.

"Ez?"

"Hi guys. Am I distracting you?"

"No, not really. What happened? You're in some kind of mess, aren't you?"

"I guess he's calling us again about some bullshit."

"Guys, don't interrupt me! Let me speak!"

"Pfft, go ahead..."

"Guys, we have an emergency. Emergency of universal scale."

"What is it this time?"

"And you listen to it yourself."

After falling silent, he came up to you a little so that the other members of the group could hear you. After a few seconds, walking back, Ezreal said.

"Well, have you heard, hm?"

"Are you serious right now?"

"Come on. Surely he decided to prank us, haha!"

"Joking is in the spirit of Aphelios, Kayn!"

"In general, guys, I found a teenage girl in the park. She was sleeping on a bench, and it looks like she spent the whole night there because she was wet. And I also found out that she ran away from home. And why, she doesn't say, and now I'm unlikely to be able to find out anything, because she's hysterical. You're already hearing it now."

"And who of us didn't run away from home as a child? Nothing, she'll get sick, calm down, and then take her home."

"I told her about it, but it all led to panic. It looks like everything is bad at home, since she reacted like that. Therefore, K'Sante, come. I'll send you the coordinates. Because I do not know how to calm her down in such a situation."

"All right, Ez. I'm getting ready."

"Yone, you cook something for now, because she's pale as a toadstool, and she probably hasn't eaten since yesterday."

"Don't worry, it will be done."

"Thank you. See you later!"

After completing the call, the guy turned to you. You were still hunched over on the ground, holding your head and muttering to yourself. A nightmarish and heartbreaking sight. It was unbearable for Ez to watch a very young and not yet strong soul suffer and suffer. A small, weak, defenseless, but beautiful girl completely alone in this cruel world that was ready to tear her to pieces. Someone had to protect her. Who will do it, if not him?

He squatted down next to you again and, wrapping his arms around you, pressed you to him, stroking your hair. It remains only to wait for K'Sante, but he will not move a millimeter before his arrival. You needed protection and warmth.

Kayn.

The downpour gradually began to stop, but soon completely subsided, leaving behind only huge puddles of moist coolness. By the time the downpour ended, the sky had turned dark blue, almost black. There was no moon in the sky, not even a star. One black canvas.

Just like the stars in the sky, there were almost no people on the streets. The power in this area has passed into the hands of silence, which has already sat down in its place and began to observe everything that is happening.

A mischievous and cool autumn breeze was still running through the streets. Like a child who was interested in everything, it touched every object that came in its way and whistled softly, as if giggling. It jumped on the branches of trees, like a fluffy red squirrel, stirring those few leaves that still somehow held on to the thin and crooked limbs of their carriers.

Jumping down from one of the fallen asleep trees, it flew up to the girl sitting on the bench and touched her, making her shiver from its cold and invisible body.

Wrapping yourself even more tightly in your father's leather jacket, you gasped, shaking like a little girl who was afraid of an imaginary monster under her bed. Your clothes were soaked through with rainwater, which was even worse. It stuck unpleasantly to your skin like a leech, and it made you look like a doormat. Take and squeeze out, a whole bucket of water will be poured. Although in your case, not only water, but also blood.

All this time you've been sitting on this bench and never got up from your seat. You sat and did not move, like a statue, and stared at one point, immersed in your thoughts. Thoughts that all this would end as soon as possible, and you would fully feel the embrace of that peace that you craved like water. The temple still hurt, but not much. The painkillers that you drank were slowly working. But it didn't help to get rid of the memories of the horror that happened at your house a few hours ago. Just the thought of a drunken mother and a cruel stepfather made a whole herd of goosebumps run through your skin, accompanied by shivering, but not from the cold, but from wild fear.

You didn't know what was going on at your house right now, but you didn't even want to know, because you guessed. Surely they were still sitting at the kitchen table, which was covered with a tablecloth stained with alcohol, vomit and tobacco ash, and continued to drink alcohol and sing songs from thirty or even forty years ago, not even noticing that their "beloved" daughter had long escaped from this pigsty. And, most likely, during this period of time they never bothered to check on you. This thought made you sick, disgusting and very insulting. It looks like they really had a bottle of alcohol more expensive than you, and they didn't need you. However, you realized this a long time ago.

"Heh... Still, I should disappear... Nobody needs me here..."

Mechanically, you raised your head to the night sky and looked at it as if you saw someone close and dear there.

"But you need me, don't you, Dad? Isn't that right? I want to go to heaven with you so much... Don't worry, we'll be together soon. It won't be long now..."

A slight smile appeared on your blue lips only for a moment.

As a result, you sat on this bench for an hour. Then you took your phone out of your backpack and looked at the time. It's already midnight.

"It's time..." You whispered, getting up from the bench.

The stiff joints immediately made themselves felt. After warming up a little, you went to the exit of the empty park, holding the straps of your backpack.

There was not a soul in the streets. The dark night has taken over everything, which will be the last for you today. You were scared. You were afraid of the unknown. Who knows what's there after death? Maybe there really is something there, or maybe there's nothing there at all? Just solid darkness. And it was the second option that scared you the most. You didn't want to be in the void, like a file deleted from the system. All resolve immediately came to naught.

"Maybe I should go home?..."

Why? You know what will happen if you come back. Everything will go in a circle again. Beatings, screams, scandals, eternal drunken parents, sleepless nights, bullying at school and tears pouring from your eyes. Why do you need all this? Is it not enough for you that you suffer day after day? Wouldn't it be easier to send it all to hell and finally get out of this fucking world? Since you conceived this idea, then you have to make it a reality. So what's the matter? Fear? Yes, everyone is afraid of the unknown, but at least then you won't suffer like a bird in a tight and small cage.

Clenching your hands into fists to such an extent that your knuckles turned white, you squeezed your eyes shut and bit your lower lip. There was a struggle going on in you. One side was crowding out the other. At first, the fight was on an equal footing, but then the dark side began to gain the upper hand. The bright side was weakening with each blow. The first blow, the second, the third, the fourth, the fifth and... Knockout.

Opening your eyes abruptly, you took off and ran with the speed of a bullet along the avenue illuminated by street lamps. The sound of your shoes on the asphalt echoed down the avenue. You ran without knowing exactly where you were going. It was as if your feet themselves were leading you to the place of realization of your terrible plan. Because of the adrenaline that was raging in you, you did not feel tired and pain in your legs at all. Now you could be compared to a champion in athletics, you were also rushing through the streets at high speed.

You accelerated only when you ran past the building of your school. The moment you ran past it, everything slowed down for a brief moment. A flash followed by memories of what happens to you there when you get there. Giggles, finger pointing, taunts and beatings in the toilet. Your dark side was whispering to you to run again.

You didn't know how long you were running like that, but you stopped only when you reached the embankment. Just as empty and lit by lanterns. Sitting on a nearby bench, you took a deep breath. It was like running a marathon.

Walking with your eyes along the entire embankment, you noticed the bridge. A very long and large bridge. And again, your feet seemed to lead you there by themselves.

Once there, you looked into the distance. The river that flowed calmly and slowly made you fall into some kind of trance state. It drew you, called you to it, and you obeyed this quiet call. Resting against the railings of the bridge, you looked down. The height was huge, and the water was definitely cold. If you jump off, then due to a collision with the surface of the water, you can break all the bones. But it's going to be fast, isn't it? You won't even feel it.

You've already started climbing over the railings, still looking at the river. Already being completely on the opposite side, you, holding hands and feet for the metal and cold fence, sighed. That's all. Your torment is over.

The quiet atmosphere of the embankment made Kayn calm down and think that no one could stop him now. A difficult day affected his emotional state. Before that, he was irritated and hot-tempered as never before, which almost led to a major quarrel between his colleagues. But fortunately he managed to go out tonight and clear his head so that tomorrow he could work with a fresh head.

At some point, his gaze caught someone climbing over the railings of a stone, but a huge bridge.

"What the fuck? What did they forget there?..."

Coming closer, he squinted and began to observe what was happening. Although it was impossible to really see who it was from this distance, something told Kayn that it was a teenager - a girl of sixteen. She had already completely climbed over the railings and, holding on to it, was looking down. Kayn also looked at the water. Then back. Then back to the water, and so in a circle several times. And then it hit him like an electric shock.

"Is she going to jump?! Holy shit, not that."

Taking off, the guy rushed to the bridge. He had catastrophically little time, and every second was important. Kayn has already guessed what is about to happen, but no, he must not allow it.

Breath. Exhale. Turning your gaze to the moon, you whispered softly, and a single tear ran down your cheek.

"Dad, I'm coming to you..."

You let go of the railings and...

"WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!"

The feeling of being grabbed by the collar and pulled on yourself finally brought you out of the trance. Someone's hands pulled you out of the clutches of death, bringing you back to the asphalt. You stood motionless, eyes wide open and looking at nothing. You didn't understand what was going on. And only then did those same hands clench tightly on your shoulders and start shaking you, and someone you knew looked right into your eyes. Kayn from HEARTSTEEL.

"What the fuck were you thinking?! Are you tired of living?!"

"... Yes."

A short, but clear and understandable answer.

"Is it how bad everything is for you that you decided to commit suicide?!"

Silence. Sighing, Kayn put his hand on his face and shook his head. He felt some kind of relief that you were alive and not in the arms of icy water right now.

"Where is your home?"

"NO! I'M NOT GOING BACK THERE!"

From your sharp and loud voice, the guy already shuddered. He immediately drew attention to your shaking body and eyes that were panicking from side to side. Panic. He knew it right away.

"Hey, calm down!"

Again you felt yourself being shaken by the shoulders. You've come to your senses.

"Damn, you're all wet. You were walking in the rain, right?"

"..."

"Okay, let's go. God forbid you get sick."

"Just please don't bring me home..."

"Pfft, I can already guess the reason for your decision. Don't worry, kiddo, you'll spend the night with the guys, and tomorrow you'll tell us what's going on at your home. Believe me, when I was your age, I also ran away from home."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. Only then I was stupid. I wanted to show that I am an adult. But I see that your case is special."

His presence had a calming effect on you. You have already stopped shaking, and the feeling of anxiety has left you.

"Come on, suicidal girl." Grinning, he muttered.

Putting his arm around your shoulders, Kayn pulled you a little closer to him. You felt a kind of brotherly aura emanating from him. You felt safe with him. Now you no longer felt useless to anyone, otherwise he would have passed by and would not have tried to help you. Not everything is lost, right?

K'Sante.

The night has already fully taken possession of this city. The black sky covered everything around like a huge blanket. But it did not retain heat. Quite the opposite. It was very cold.

You were still sitting on a bench with your knees pressed to your chest and shaking. The cold bit you relentlessly in all the places available to it, especially where your clothes were soaked with rainwater. From this, the feeling of despair and loneliness only intensified. You wanted someone, at least someone, to hug you and warm you up. You wanted to feel the affection and warmth that you haven't received for so long. But there was no one. You're all alone. No friends, no relatives... You didn't count on your mother and stepfather. They didn't give a shit about you. They're not your support.

Deciding not to sit in one place, you got up and walked away from this quiet place.

There was almost no one on the street, but still rarely anyone passed. No one even thought about why a teenager walks all alone at this time of day. You saw only complete indifference in their faces. Well, that's for the best...

Approaching a long pedestrian crossing, you looked around. There was no one and nothing. No people, no cars. Only buildings and street lamps, the golden and warm light of which dispersed the night darkness. You stopped, then looked at the zebra. Smooth white stripes led to the other side, which was pretty far away.

"I wish the car would drive by now..." You whispered.

But the sound of music and the high beam of headlights caught your attention. But still wishes come true...

K'Sante drove along a completely empty road and shook his head to the beat of the music that was playing at full volume in the car. It's true that a night trip by car around the city helps to relax very well and get all the bad things out of your head. That's exactly what K'Sante was doing now - rushing along an empty road and not thinking about anything, only the music guided him.

With every turn, he recalled how, as a teenager, he once stole someone's cheap car with his old classmates in order to just have fun at the most beautiful time of the day - at night. He recalled how the police caught them, after all, and they went to the police station. And he remembered how he got a lot from his parents. Then he was too young and stupid to realize his mistake, but now he remembered it all with a laugh.

"God, how stupid I was then."

Turning the next corner, the vocalist drove out onto a long and wide road. It was empty here, too. Without slowing down, K'Sante continued, like a racer, to rush along the track. It's so good when there are no cars and people. Complete freedom. And there is no chance that someone will cross the road. After all, everyone has been asleep for a long time. What could possibly go wrong?

And then, abruptly and unexpectedly, like a wild forest animal, a person jumped out onto the roadway. The headlights illuminated their figure, but because of such a surprise, K'Sante could not figure out who it was. Shouting out in fright, the guy abruptly pressed the brakes in order to slow down and stop, but it was too late. Although the speed was reduced, but the collision could not be avoided. The person hit their head on the hood of the car and fell to the ground.

"No, not that!"

Opening the door and exiting the car, K'Sante ran up to the fallen person and squatted down in front of them. It was a teenage girl of sixteen. She was lying on the ground completely motionless, which made the guy panic. He began to frantically feel the fragile body in search of injuries. He didn't find any blood or anything else. He put his fingers to her neck and checked her pulse and breathing. Everything is fine. Panic instantly receded.

"Oh, my God... What are you doing here, little one, all alone and without parents?"

Asked K'Sante, but she didn't answer him because she was still unconscious.

The guy was confused. He didn't know what to do. Should he call an ambulance? So no, he didn't find any injuries, and her breathing was normal. Should he call the police? No, he'd be in trouble if they saw that he was the one who hit her. But that wasn't what was bothering him right now. He wondered what she was doing here at all. It's almost half past midnight, and she's walking the streets when everyone has been lying in their beds for a long time and dreaming the seventh dream. This is strange. Very, very strange...

Shaking his head, K'Sante gently picked up the girl in his arms and carried her to the car. Opening the back door, he put the poor girl on the seat, then went back to the driver's seat, not forgetting to close the door. Starting the engine, he drove off and drove back to the shared temporary apartment.

Throughout the journey, he periodically looked in the mirror to make sure that you didn't wake up. There were a lot of questions, but no answers. But nevertheless, he had to help you. And plus, when he examined you, he noticed that you were soaked from head to toe.

Arriving at the building, K'Sante parked and, getting out of the car and taking you out, went inside with you in his arms.

He opened the apartment door with some difficulty, because his hands were busy with you, but he succeeded. Without taking off his shoes, the guy immediately took you to his room, where he laid you on a warm bed. After taking off your jacket, hat and shoes, the vocalist found dried blood on your temple, which scared him seriously. Where did you get such a wound? He had even more questions. After covering you with a blanket, K'Sante looked at you with pity.

"Poor girl... Did you really run away from home? Okay, go to sleep. We'll find out tomorrow..."

After taking one last look at you, the man slowly left the room, leaving you alone. Tomorrow, he and the other guys, along with Alune, should find out what happened to you and how you ended up on the street.

Sett.

The next morning you woke up with aching pain in your back and joints. Sleeping on a bench all night was not a good idea, but how else? You had nowhere to go, it was very dangerous to be at home, so you had no options except to spend the night outside in the cold and alone. With grief in half, you barely got up from the wooden surface and began to stretch your cramped muscles. The crunching of joints seemed to be heard all over the neighborhood. Squinting your eyes and making soft groans, you continued to stretch your limbs. A sense of relief has finally come to you.

After blinking your eyes several times and shaking your head, you headed away from the park. It was early in the morning, but nevertheless, there were people on the street who were going to work or study. But you went neither there nor there. Your goal was completely different.

The morning cold, which now filled the whole air, continued to torment you nonstop. Its prehensile claws ran over your skin through your clothes, making you shiver. Clenching your teeth, you wrapped yourself even more tightly in your father's leather jacket in order to somehow avoid these touches. To some extent it helped, but not very much. In addition to this, people were talking everywhere, which annoyed you a little. You didn't want to be seen like this, much less approached and helped. No, you know what's best for you, and no one will be able to offer you a helping hand. You're on your own.

Deciding to hide from this noise, you headed to the nearest corner, where you could rest and reflect a little. Soon your ears were visited by silence. Exhaling, you leaned back against the wall, looking at the gray sky towering over the houses. That's what you wanted right now. To be completely alone in silence. Last night you couldn't get enough of it to the full, and now such an opportunity has turned up. Loneliness, silence, tranquility. That's what you've wanted for so long.

"Oh, look who we have here!"

That voice... Damn, not that. You knew it too well. Turning your head sharply in the direction of the source of this voice, you mentally groaned. Not those damn bastards. There was a girl standing a few meters away from you, along with several other people. Oh, you'll recognize them anywhere. Your damn classmates.

"Yes, this is our Y/N!" One of the guys who was standing next to your classmate, holding a cigarette between his teeth, said with an insidious grin.

They began to approach you slowly.

"What, you're a bum now, aren't you?"

You ignored them, averting your gaze from their filthy muzzles, which you wanted to turn into a bloody mess. And they continued to be sarcastic.

"Aren't you going to say hello to your friends, Y/N? How rude of you. And in general, what else can you expect from the daughter of drunks?"

And then followed their loud and mocking laughter. It, like worms, penetrated into your ears, causing your whole interior to boil and heat up, like metal that was processed in factories. You wanted to restrain yourself, take control of your words, but your body just wouldn't listen to you. It's as if some force has taken possession of you, forcing you to obey it.

Clenching your teeth and letting out a guttural low growl, you strained.

"Shut up..."

They were taken aback by this. Their eyes widened with incredible shock. It's the first time in a long time that you've responded to their taunts.

"What did you say there?! Say it again!"

"Do you have a hearing problem or did I not make myself clear? I said fuck off, you pathetic bitch..."

"You scum! Guys, teach her a lesson!"

One of them grabbed you by the neck and banged your head against the wall. You cried out loudly in pain. But then you were hit in the side, then in the stomach, where you have bruises from last night. The bruises that hadn't healed still hurt, which made the situation even worse, because it made the pain even more hellish. Another guy grabbed your leg and pulled you towards him, thereby knocking you to the asphalt. A sharp pain in the back of the head immediately made itself felt. Another scream escaped from your throat. Tears were already flowing down your cold skin, mixing with the dirt. They didn't stop beating you up. Each blow tore screams of pain and fear from your lungs that echoed in this place.

"Please don't- AAAAAAH!!!" You desperately begged them, trying to somehow avoid new blows, but they surrounded you, giving no way to retreat.

You screamed, called for help, but no one came. No, that's not how you wanted to end your life, you had other plans!

"Hey, let's have some real fun?"

"Wh... What...?"

One of them leaned towards you, looking straight into your eyes with his crazy gaze. There was a manic smile on his lips that indicated nothing good. The fear turned into a real panic, from which your whole weak body began to shake.

"Don't worry, baby, you'll love it!"

But before you could assimilate his words, you felt him begin to take off your jeans. And only now did you realize what he was going to do to you. You wanted to push him away from you, but two other guys held you by the legs, and two more by the hands, not letting you escape. No, no, you didn't want to experience it for yourself a second time. You've had enough of what happened back at your house, but it was even worse here. There was a whole fucking group of them! You tried to somehow escape, but what could you, a weak girl, do against four guys clearly superior to you in strength? Right, nothing...

"Come on, boys, fuck her properly." Said your classmate, who was standing next to you and smoking a cigarette, sadistically looking down at you. It was as if she was getting wild pleasure from the sight in front of her. However, it was.

Your gaze went back to the guy in front of you. Your jeans have been removed to the level of your ankles, and the fabric of your underwear has been pushed aside, revealing a view of your most intimate place. The guy himself had already pulled down his pants, and when he was ready to torture you in a new way, something happened. Like a bolt from the blue, a familiar voice rang out to you, which attracted the attention of the whole group, including your classmate.

"Hey, punks, come on, quickly leave her alone, otherwise I'll have to teach you a lesson in good manners."

There was a distinct note of menace in the voice. At that moment, all your tormentors took off and, like dogs, scurried away. You were left lying on the asphalt covered in mud. You quickly pulled your jeans back on, ignoring the pain in your hands. Only after that, none other than Sett - rapper of the band HEARTSTEEL ran up to you. He squatted down next to you, looking at you with a worried look.

"Hey, kid, how are you? Didn't they have time to... ehh... touch you?"

"No... But they beat me very badly..." You answered in a hoarse voice, holding your side, where you were hit the hardest.

"What scum they are... Okay, get up."

Getting to his feet, the guy held out his hand to you, and you took it. After that, he helped you up. The pain in your legs made you stagger a little, but fortunately you didn't fall.

"Do you need to call an ambulance?" Sett asked, still looking at you with concern dancing in his eyes.

"No... Not worth it... It's all good..."

"Definitely not worth it?"

You shook your head negatively, putting your hand on the strap of your backpack.

"Why don't I walk you home? It's not safe for you to go alone after that."

"H-Home?... No, I don't want to go back there..."

"Is something wrong? You look worried. No... you... Are you scared?"

Yes, the fear was on your face, and Sett saw it. Something clicked in his head. It looks like things were bad for you at home, since you didn't want to come back.

Sighing and shaking his head, Sett put his arm around your shoulders and led you away from this cursed alley.

"Don't worry, kid, I won't hurt you. Now you're going to go with me to the guys, and then tell me what's going on at your house. We won't hurt you, honestly."

He smiled broadly, then patted you on the head, making you let out a laugh. It was the first time you've laughed in such a long time.

Yone.

A whole hour has passed since the downpour began, and it did not even think to stop. It was getting stronger and stronger by the second, forming huge puddles on the ground. But this did not prevent Yone from enjoying this atmosphere. He walked through the park with an umbrella in his hand and inhaled fresh and moist, cool air into his lungs. Because of his work, he could hardly go out for a walk, and now he had such an opportunity, which he immediately took advantage of. He's wanted this for so long. Take a walk somewhere completely alone and take a break from all this routine fuss. Right now he was doing it. He let his ears take a break from electronic music and immerse themselves in the soothing sound of rain and rustling leaves.

And then something came into his field of vision. More precisely, not something, but someone. In the distance he saw a bench that was different from the others in that it was not empty. Someone was sitting there. It's strange, it's raining very hard outside, and in the park someone is sitting on a bench completely without an umbrella. He decided to take a closer look. After taking a few steps, he stopped. And after that, he was a little stunned.

A young girl of about sixteen was sitting on a wet bench, pressing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She laid her head on them. She wasn't dressed for the weather at all. He kept seeing her shaking all over. There was a backpack next to her. Anyone in Yone's place would have just walked past this poor girl, but he wasn't like that. He couldn't watch this girl getting wet and freezing. He wanted to help her.

He sauntered over to this bench and stood next to the girl.

"It's not good to sit here and get wet. So you can catch a cold."

He said in a calm tone, looking at her. She didn't react in any way, still hiding her face in her knees. This made the producer even more worried.

"You don't have to be afraid of me. I just want to help you."

And only after these words, the teenager raised her head. The condition of her face just horrified the man. It was tired, her lips were shaking, and there were dark circles under her eyes. There was pain, despair, hopelessness, helplessness in her eyes... unwillingness to live. It seemed that he saw before him not a young girl, but a martyr who had gone through hell.

"What's wrong with your face?"

You didn't answer.

After examining you again, Yone noticed a small red spot on your temple. Bad thoughts slowly began to creep into his head. Where did you get the dried blood on your temple? Then he looked at the backpack. Okay, it's not funny anymore. The situation is serious. Yone has already begun to guess how you got here. Backpack, your condition, dried blood on your temple and... bruises on your wrists? Yes, he noticed that too.

"Look, I don't know what happened to you or how you got here, but I really want to help you. I can see how bad you feel. Let's do this. You're coming with me. When we get there, you'll wash up, change your clothes, and I'll feed you. Then you will go to bed, and tomorrow you will tell everything that happened to you. Really, I don't want to hurt you. You're young, and you don't have to suffer."

He tried to persuade you several times, and in the end you trusted him. Getting up from the bench and taking the backpack, you went to him. He covered you both with an umbrella and, putting his hand on your shoulder, walked with you to the exit of the park.

"It's all right, child, you can trust me. I won't hurt you."

Continued in the next part...

A/N: I finished it! Thank you for reading it. I really tried...

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