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luimagines · 7 months

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Soulmates from the Start Part 6

Another commission!

It's extra long this time. :D And guess who couldn't finish the story in one go like I thought I would?

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Twilight was too busy being stuck in his own head to fully take into account what was happening around him.

You had mentioned bokoblins.

Bokoblins.

You had never mentioned them before. At least not in the way that told him they were near you. You had once told him, years ago when you both were fantasizing about meeting each other, that you were far away from Hyrule. You said that you didn’t have bokoblins where you were from.

You said ‘Bokoblins suck. I didn’t think they were as big as they actually were. Did you know they smell? I feel like I’m going to pass out.’

Twilight wasn’t sure he was processing that right. It would have to have been the first time you had seen a bokoblin in person for you to say that. Bokoblins were only in Hyrule.

YOU WERE IN HYRULE.

The knowledge of being so close to you had frozen him in place. Twilight could only vaguely recognize that The Champion, with all his loyalty, was sitting next to him. He noted that the stances were eerily similar to what has happened many times before.

However this time the roles were versed.

Wild had sat him down against a tree while he kept his guard up. Twilight would be thankful later, when he was done trying to make everything make sense in his own head. The Rancher knew he was in no position to even remotely defend himself at this moment.

What else had you said? What else could he decipher if he tried hard enough?

No idea. I heard a horn and then an arrow shot by my foot. I just took off running.

Twilight wants to bite off his own tongue. Everything stopped once he heard you were in danger again. He was too focused on trying to not panic and make it worse for you. He was such a useless soulmate. Everything in his body was telling him to find you, to protect you, to hold you close and tend to every cut and cruise that would have been inflicted on you should he have been even a hair too late.

He heard a horn too but it was Hyrule, Warrior and Time that had gone to investigate the nearby monsters. It would be foolish to think that it was in any way related.

Twilight shook his head, feeling things calm down in his head to think clearly again. It was incredible luck for you to be in Hyrule as it was. Anything more would be asking for too much. But he could work with this. He was a hunter to some degree. He was a wolf for a reason whether he liked it or not.

He was going to find you.

He was going to meet you and hug you and follow through every promise he had ever made to you since he fell in love with you.

There are a lot of them. He has to make up for lost time.

***

You all but screamed.

How is this possible? How are you here? How is he here? Wait-! You DO recognize him! You’ve seen him before!

Fully aware that you’ve been staring at the poor boy as if he had grown a second head, you give him your hand to shake. It was slow and robotic. Your limbs didn’t want to cooperate just yet.

The boy laughs under his breath as you shake hands. “I don’t bite.”

“...Right…” You force a smile on your face. It’s awkward and tight. You remember him now, even though you’re not entirely sure from what game he belongs to. His clothes and appearance are too unassuming. There’s nothing to tell him apart from all the other Links you’ve seen in your life. However, he travels with Link. Your Link. Your Link should be somewhere nearby.

Your muscles tense with the idea of getting to see him after so many years of pining. You introduce yourself to the person in front of you first and dust yourself off. Everything hurts and you’re tired. But instead your brian is now going a thousand miles a minute.

Link is here. Link is close. You’re in Hyrule. You’re in Hyrule.

The Link who is not your Link tilts his head as you speak. “That’s an unusual name. You’re not from around here, are you?”

You shake your head with a weak grin. “What gave it away? My ears?”

You tease by exposing the ears that would have no doubt made you stick out like a sore thumb in this type of world. As it stands, you figure you might as well get it out of the way as it is. You’re not entirely sure how it’ll blow over but the only person who’s even remotely connected to people with round ears is your Link. You’re hoping beyond hope that this little thing will lead him closer to you, if only so they don’t send you away immediately now that you’re saved.

“Hyrule? Find anything interesting? Where’s the person that screamed?” Another voice calls out. It’s deeper. Far more deeper than you would have anticipated, and yet, you know it too. Although far more intimately that you would have realized at first.

Within moments, a man steps into the little space you’ve found yourself in and looks you up and down. A vague sting reminds you of your current injuries but you’re struck dumb at the look of him. So familiar, yet so different. He’s younger. He’s alive.

“Hero’s Shade…” You whisper under your breath. Do you make eye contact? Is that rude? Would that be a threat? Oh my god- he’s the Hero of Time! Isn’t he related to your Link? Wouldn’t he be related to you too? Maybe? By marriage? God- you hoped so. At least in your future. It would mean that Link would have forgiven you for pushing him away and for what you still have to confess now that you’re here in person. It would be awful to do so in front of all these other people but they deserve to know.

Guilt sinks deep into your gut and you feel your face get warm at the very thought of it.

What would they think of you when you tell them?

“Do you require immediate medical assistance?” He asks you instead, unaware of the turmoil going on in your head.

You shake your head and pull your arms close to your body. He nods once and gestures for you to follow. “Come. We’ll tend to you first before we move on.”

“O-oh…” They’re taking you with them anyway? At least for now it looks like. Your feet feel like lead but you follow them.

“All clear!” A third voice calls out when you step back onto the path. He looks straight out of a model magazine if you ignore his clothing. But even with his clothing, there’s a sort of cutting edge to him that would have certainly held your attention if you didn’t instantly start comparing him to your Link.

It felt really good to say that. Your Link. You doubted you would ever get tired of saying it like that.

However, your eyes instantly narrowed in on the scarf that he had slung around his shoulders. You don’t remember it being that big- but it takes every fiber of your being so turn your eyes away from him. Knowing him and all that he’s been through- was probably the worst one you’ve investigated. He was the one you hoped to meet the least. Should he learn, no, when he learns about the things you’ve done, he would most likely take it the hardest.

Unfortunately, you can see the moment he pinpoints your unease and tucks it into the back of his mind. You flinch. The others see that too.

“You know…” He says slowly, taking his time to walk over to you. “There aren’t a lot of people with ears like yours.”

“I’ve gathered that.” You say softly. You want to own up to what you’ve done and what you know. You want to be the adult you are and take accountability… but not yet. You have to see him first. You have to see that your soulmate is safe and real in the flesh.

The Hero of Warriors bites his lip awkwardly. You’re not sure what he’s thinking but you have the slight suspicion that none of you are on the same page. He scratches the back of his head. “I haven’t met a lot of people like you but we know a guy who grew up with cropped ears. Come form a group of them. They live in Ordon Village. Heard of it?”

You can’t help it. You perk up and your heart starts beating faster. There’s no denying your recognition, or the way your face lights up. “Yes! I do!”

This could be your ticket straight to your soulmate! And you didn’t even have to say anything yet!

“He might be a bit out of it though.” This ‘Hyrule’ Link mentions quietly. “Is this really a good idea after everything he’s going through right now?”

You bite your tongue. If this ‘he’ is who you think it is, then you have to be patient. You’ve waited years to meet him. You can wait a little bit longer.

“You know him?” The Hero of Warriors looks back to you instead of answering his friend. “He knows about everybody from his village. Name’s Link.”

You have to force yourself to nod normally and calmly. “I… should.” This is a make or break moment. Now or never. You have to be brave and face the consequences no matter what happens. “...I’d know for sure once I see his face though.”

“Very well.” The Hero of Time, albeit older and more scarred. You’re not sure why he has the Fierce Deity marking on only half of his face or why he has a scar over his eye already. “Maybe a familiar face would do him some good for a time. He needs someone other than us to talk to.”

You don’t comment, too focused on appearing normal as they begin to lead you back to where they were as a group. You faintly notice that ‘Hyrule’ (you have to figure out where he’s from or quickly before you accidentally spill any secrets he may be trying to keep) has glowing hands as you walk. Your injuries and the pain begin to fade.

So this one does magic? Which Link can heal?

You try to keep the conversation light and away from true thoughts and feelings as you nervously follow them through the forest. You didn’t think you would be so shaken by all of this. You didn’t think you would find yourself this anxiety ridden. Oh you hope that he’s here, that he will forgive you! You have to apologize for everything you never said.

***

Twilight finally managed to get a grip on himself and on reality after what felt like an eternity later.

“Hey. You ok?” Wild reaches over and pats him on the back, trying to be as soothing as possible. “Are they ok?”

“Y-yeah… I think so.” Twilight takes in a turbulent breath. “They feel… calmer. I’ve never been able to simply feel them before. They must have stopped shutting me out so much…”

“That’s great, Rancher!” Wild cries, punching him on the shoulder. It’s such a brotherly move that Twilight can’t help but smile, albeit weakly. “You’ve just hit a rough patch. It’ll all be ok in the end. You’ll see.”

Twilight coughs and nods along. “It’s something… I just hate that they were so scared for so long… I couldn’t… I can’t do anything…” He shudders. “But I think… I think they’re here. I think they’re close.”

Wild freezes in a similar fashion that Twilight had earlier. “...Are you serious?”

Now that he��s said it out loud, it feels weightier. Hearty. Real. He nods fervently as the smile on his face turns into a grin. “I am. I think they’re here, Cub. …I need to find them.”

“Then we’ll help you.” The Champion replies without hesitation. “After all of this, this is the least we can do. We’ll find them first. Everything else can wait.”

Warmth and adoration bloom in Twilight’s chest as he brings the younger hero in for a bone crushing hug. There are no words that he can say that would properly convey what he’s feeling but he’s going to fight to keep it.

There’s rustling to the side of their makeshift camp. Everyone turns to the sound with expectant eyes. Time brushes some of the brambles out of the way as Warrior comes through, stretching his arms as he goes. “Hey Rancher. We got someone we thought you’d like to meet. You up for it?”

Twilight raises an eyebrow and stands. “Depends on the per-”

The words die on his tongue. You walk in, roughed up and dirty. But beautiful. So, so beautiful.

You seem nervous as you look around. Hyrule walks around you and everyone is watching for anything to explode. You see him and suck in a breath.

You stare at each other.

Twilight thinks his heart has stopped entirely. Surely this was too easy. He had only come to the conclusion that you were in his grasp. Now you’re just here? Like that? All but plopped onto his lap to love and adore and spend the rest of his life with?

The weight of the situation seems to finally settle on everyone’s shoulders. Wild shoves Twilight forward and he stumbles from the action. He can’t even be mad. He can’t bring himself to glare at his friend. It would mean he would have to take his eyes off of you. And he refuses to do that.

“...It’s you…” The words leave him breathlessly. You’re perfect. Better than anything he could have imagined. Those visions did not do you justice. “...It’s really you…”

Suddenly you tear up and the hazy dream of it all shatters. Twilight feels like a bucket of ice water has been dumped over his head. “What is it? What’s wro-”

“LINK!” You run and jump on him, holding onto him like he’s a life line. It’s enough to knock him over and knock the wind out of him, but he’s used to a little rough and tumble. He catches you with ease, spinning to disperse the remaining momentum and holds you just as tightly as you descend into heart wrenching sobs.

It breaks his heart.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” Twilight says quietly. He starts crying too.

Everyone else is aware that this should have been a private moment but they’re too invested in this to look away now.

You pull away and cradle his face. Your fingertips are gentle but shaking. You’re drinking him in just as much as he’s drinking you in. He feels you trace the markings on his face, lip wobbling with unspoken words as fat tears continue to roll down your cheeks.

He wipes them away gently.

You sniffle, caressing him in a similar manner, no doubt wiping away his own tears he’s been set on ignoring. “I could kiss you.”

That’s all the permission he needed.

***

Link kisses you.

He’s sweet and tender and although you’ve never kissed another person before it was everything you thought it would be. You’re not sure why. It was clumsy and awkward but you were too caught up with finally being in his arms to care about it at all. It was as it should be.

You let yourself have this. You kiss him back. You hold on tightly. You run your hands through his hair and try to map him out as fast as you can before you inevitably have to explain everything.

You know this because you cried out his name.

It was a spur of the moment thing. You hadn’t intended to. Since you had never shared each other’s name, he would no doubt start to ask questions once the high dies down. It would ruin everything for you, kill you off before you had a chance to fully live through this, but you wouldn’t lie to him. You’ve done enough damage without him knowing.

So you’ll take what he gives you while he’s still willing to give it. And you’ll hold the memory close for all your future years to come when you inevitably separate.

You finally allow yourself to pull back and gulp down the air that you’ve been missing.

You’re messy and tired and you’re sure that this is going to end poorly but for the hell of it, you kiss him one more time before relaxing slightly.

Link for his part, was absolutely stunning. He was warm and solid. The arms around you spoke of pure power. His strength was no laughing matter and you knew that. You were completely caged with his grasp but instead of feeling threatened or concerned, you were at home. Every cylinder in your brain was firing off that this was where you belonged.

You have to force yourself to pull your hands away.

You sniffle, looking away from his enchantingly blue eyes. Have they always been that shade? Were they always so bright? You could have sworn they were different. You fix up his fur pelt and the collar around his tunic, trying to bring yourself back into some working order.

You feel his hands gently, almost hesitantly card through your hair and around your ears and neck- toying with the idea of feeling your skin. It fires off goosebumps over the rest of your body.

You gulp and force yourself to speak. “...I didn’t think I would ever see you in person.” Your voice gets thick with emotion. You can feel your heart betray you further, nearly sending you into another sobbing fit before you can reign it back in. “I didn’t think it was possible.”

He nods and laughs wetly as he gives in to his compulsion to play with your hair between his fingertips. “Neither did I… I was so scared I lost you.”

You shudder at the raw and thick feeling that shoots through your bond. You can feel him. It’s warm and sturdy. You think you can feel the brush of fur along your heart- a calling to the beast he holds within. It shakes you. Was this how your bond was supposed to eb from the start if you weren’t separated from realities? You take in another deep breath, the tears fall anew regardless. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head and holds you impossibly tighter. “Never say that to me again. You have nothing to apologize for.”

You’re stunned. After everything? He was obviously frightened. And at the same time, you know that your time is up. You have to explain yourself.

“That’s not true, Link.” You sniffle, hoping that by ripping off the bandaid it would make it easier for you to heal later on. You can’t bring yourself to hide it any longer. “I have so much to apologize for.

His face crumbles as he rubs his thumb over your cheek. A deep, dark growl emanates from him as he bares his teeth. You’re not entirely sure he knew that he did that. “You’re hurt.”

It’s startling how otherly he looks in that moment- but you’re not afraid. Guilt is replaced by intrigue.

There’s so much you’d love to learn about him. But you can’t keep up this charade. It might as well be that everyone is still watching your very downfall before you could truly begin.

***

Twilight could feel himself growl before he could stop himself. You tensed up but didn’t pull away.

Good. He was worried that the effects of the magic in his life would have turned you away the second you saw it in person. He forces himself to relax. Putting aside the driving need to tear apart the very things that harmed and threatened you into shreds, he gently bonks his forehead to yours. “I forgive you.” He tells you, because it’s true. Whatever you want to apologize for- if it’s for scarring him, for blocking him out, for dropping out of your bond for those terrifying 7 hours- he forgives you. You’re here. He won’t lose you so easily now that he has you. “I don’t care about what’s happened. I’m glad I finally get to see you after so many years.”

He’s dreamed of this moment for as long as he knew you were meant to be his. He never would have imagined that it would have been under these circumstances but he can feel you. He feels you. There’s no more door in his way. There’s no more tampering the connection or even remotely trying to hold back what you’re both thinking and feeling.

You’re bright and fluttering and sharp. Like a rose if he had to pinpoint both your intricacy and your ability to put him in his place whenever he would need it. It’s almost delicate but intimidating. You could cut him in a heartbeat- but he could crush you without meaning to. The thought is exhilarating. He hadn’t imagined that the bond would have been this intimate or vulnerable.

You’re feeling guilty. So, so guilty. It’s enough to catch his heart in a vice grip and mangle it beyond its bruised exterior. He wants to wipe the sinister feeling from your heart and mind. Twilight wants to soothe all your worries and troubles with a single swipe of his hand.

He kisses your forehead. “I don’t believe you. This mess wasn’t your fault. You’re not a malicious person. I would know. We’ve been in each other’s head since we were old enough to toddle.”

The guilt gets worse and he’s questioning how he could feel everything about you but not your thoughts. Maybe he misunderstood the manner of your bond and this new strange and wild feeling.

You hang your head, hitting his chest gently as you sink into him. The feeling is good and drives itself deep into his bones. He sighs, closing his eyes to block out his unfortunate audience. You hug him and begin to shake slightly. “You don’t know what I’ve done. You don’t know what horrible thing I‘ve been keeping from you… But you have to promise me, let me explain it all first! I just-... I didn’t know at first how bad it would have been. I didn’t think it would have gone this far.”

Twilight feels his heart start pounding. He doesn’t understand. What kind of trouble did you find yourself in? “What are you talking about?” He pushes you away with his hands on your shoulders, looking deep into your eyes. “Are you in danger? Did it bring the shadow to you?”

“Shadow?” You echo weakly. You seem to get what he’s saying and shake your head. He sighs of relief but then you tense up again and wince. “Actually- maybe? I wouldn’t know. I don’t think it would work like that but I can’t be certain.”

He grits his jaw and squeezes your shoulder a little tighter- keeping a conscious decision to still be gentle with you. “Are you working against us?”

He has to ask you point blank. He has to know you got caught up with the enemy. He had thought that you were in danger before. You would have had to spill secrets to save your own life. He wouldn’t be happy with it- but he doesn’t think he would hold it against you in the long run. You had a lot of secrets to give, that he knew. You were a perfect target with zero training and zero experience. He shudders at the thought.

He wouldn’t blame you. You’re clearly beating yourself up over something and it’s tearing you apart on the inside. He can forgive you- even if it would complicate a few things.

To his surprise though- you jump, looking like you’re about to smack him for the very thought to your honor. “What? No! I would never! I would never put you in danger. I would rather pitch myself off a cliff before I ever come close to anyone wanting to hurt you.”

The spark of indignation overshadows the guilt for one bright moment and Twilight finds it himself to smile. “I know. But I had to ask.”

You huff and pout. It’s cute, Twilight thinks to himself, being careful to not send the thought your way. He chuckles and twirls your hair around his finger. It’s so soft. Softer than he would have ever imagined it to be. Would you let him brush it for you?

“I just…” You start again. Twilight sees you hype yourself up to say the words but you hang your head again, guilt creeping over the bond you share like shards of ice. “I’ve done a not good thing, Link. I… know things I shouldn’t. About you. About your friends.” You flinch violently as if you’ve finally remembered that everyone else is watching you. “I owe them an apology. I owe them all an apology. I’m worse than Cia.”

The familiar name sets a good portion of the group on edge. Twilight sees Warrior stand up straighter as a dark look comes over his eyes. Before Twilight can so much as warn the other man to back off from his soulmate, the Captain strides forward and speaks lowly. “How do you know that name?”

You start to shake again. When you speak, your voice is weak and quiet but Twilight hears it all the same. “Can we sit down?”

“Of course, darlin’. Come on.” Twilight guides you to one of the logs around the cooking fire and sits you down. He’s quick to put himself between you and Warrior just in case he tries to get any closer.

Warrior gets the memo and doesn’t try to approach either of you any more but he crosses his arms. “There are only a very select few outside of my Hyrule that know that name.”

You flinch and bring your hands to your lap, fidgeting with your hand nervously. “I know, Link. But there are places outside of Hyrule that know that name and it’s quite common among those who know the Hero of Courage.”

Twilight feels like something is off with that sentence. Then something clicks. “I never told you my name. I was never able to, no matter how much I wanted to or how much I tried..”

You wipe your eyes and your nose with your sleeve. A long beat of silence passes. “I know… I learned it… As soon as I heard you say Midna… I managed to search for you…” You turn to him. There’s so much unspeakable emotion in your eyes. Your heart feels light but turnt in a way that’s painful for you both. “I found you, Link.”

Twilight sucks in a breath. “...what do you mean?”

“I found you.” You say again. “I found Ordon. I found Hyrule. I found the Twilight Realm. I found your story.”

He suddenly feels sick. It’s as if he’s been punched in the gut. “...What?”

You take a second to swallow your spit. You take a moment to reach for him but decide against it. Twilight reaches out for your hand anyway before you could fully take it back. He’s made his choice. He won’t let you push him away again. But he needs to process the implications of this.

There’s an even longer pause. Slowly, you squeeze his hand. He squeezes your hand back. You lick your lips and keep your head down, focusing on the way your hands are laced together. “I found your story. I found out everything. I knew how it was going to end before you even knew what it would lead up to. I …knew Midna would leave. I’m sorry, Link.”

Your hand squeezes his tighter and shakes. “I wanted to tell you. But I was scared. I was so scared. I found that no matter what I saw, what I knew, I couldn’t spoil it for you. I was worried it would hurt you in the long run. All I could do was point you in the correct direction so you wouldn’t get hurt worse.”

Twilight can feel the memories coming back to him in an avalanche of recognition. “All those puzzles…” He finds himself saying. “...I was always impressed that you could figure them out so quickly.”

“I was cheating.” You try to joke. It falls flat. “I found a walkthrough and it told me the solution. Of course I had to tell you.”

Twilight chuckles but it’s not quite where it should be. It’s not fully fake, not fully bitter, but it’s certainly toeing the line between the two of those. “...I can’t even be mad. You saved me so much time and effort.”

You whine and try to pull your hand away. He doesn’t let you. “I wish you would be. I wish you would be mad. Even if it was a little bit. I deserve it, Link. I know so much. I saw so much. You don’t even know my name yet I know your darkest secrets!”

Twilight takes a deep breath and tries to put away the sting of betrayal. It feels stupid to get upset over this. After all, you had truly helped him. Through the worst of it, you were still protecting him. “You’re my soulmate. Our bond shares thoughts and visions. You would have my secrets even if you didn’t find my story. It would be silly to be mad at you when you helped me with everything. You were my rock. My safe space. I trust you with my secrets.”

You shake your head again and choke on another sob. Twilight still doesn't understand what’s the problem. You finally look up to the rest of the group and whisper.

“I know all your secrets too.”

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #linkeduniverse #lu x reader #lu twilight #soulmate au #soulmates from the start

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mania-sama · 4 months

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A Look into Mental Health: Jujutsu Kaisen Analysis

"Being a child is not a sin." (Nanami Kento, Jujutsu Kaisen)

With the release of Chapter 251, I've seen many horrible takes from dudebros saying that Megumi has "sold" the team. This makes me unreasonably angry because of course it does, so obviously my next plan of action is to take all of my hour-long rants about the mental health of JJK characters and put it here, where said dudebros will never see my (correct) analysis in their entire life. Oh well.

One thing Gege is really, really good at is creating believable, undeniably human, and complex characters. Every character has a different set of motivations, beliefs, ideals, and especially mental states. The constant theme of Jujutsu Kiasen has been "Strength vs Weakness". While the clearest interpretation can be seen through the physical attributes of the characters (Gojo being the strongest sorcerer of his time due to his abilities, and Miwa being one of the weakest, again, due to her abilities), it is also directly applied to the mental strength of characters. No two characters are able to withstand the same trauma and come out the exact same, just as no two real people can process the same trauma. Not only is it a result of nature, as people are genetically different and therefore process information differently, but a product of nurture - in other words, character motivation and environment.

This is where we come to the current state of the manga, Chapter 251. The fated Yuuji vs Megumi debate. I keep seeing people wildly misunderstanding these two, and why it's so important that Megumi isn't standing up to fight, why he isn't able to handle his trauma, when Yuuji can.

Gege writes phenomenal characters. And I want to express just how well done they are, making Jujutsu Kaisen actually kind of deserve its popularity, because some people only care about power scaling. I'm going to touch on Megumi last, because understanding all of the other characters' makes his visible struggle that much more impactful.

1. Geto Suguru

I want to start this mental health analysis with Geto. He is the best representation of depression I've ever seen in Shonen. It doesn't take a hundred chapters to showcase a character's downfall. It doesn't take a hundred significant events to cause a character to break down. Gege shows the best, realistic mental breakdown using only a handful of chapters, and still makes it slow and painful.

Depression can start because of a big event, but it doesn't take more for it to worsen. Untreated, depression runs a vicious course that eats a person through slowly but effectively. It isn't one screaming session, hands clutched over the head and cursing God and the world. It's everything piled onto each other. It's coming to the end of that pile and realizing that nothing will ever change.

This is Geto Suguru's story. He has a big event: the fight with Toji and the failure to save Riko. But his mental health journey was fated to decline, even without the fight and failure. The root issue of his depression came from his ability: Cursed Spirit Manipulation. As long as he kept devouring the embodiment of every vile, human emotion, the more he would lose himself to that vileness. He wasn't changing anything; he couldn't help but continue to swim in negativity because that's all he could do.

Gege wasn't making a commentary on Geto's ability. He was talking about people, as they are, and how staying in a bad situation will not always make you stronger. It can, and most likely will, make you worse. A direct comparison to the sixteen-year-old Geto would be a sixteen-year-old at school, surrounded by people who bully and pick on them with harsh words. The kid will eventually consume all of that bullying, all of that negativity, into their being, because there is simply nowhere else to go. School is mandatory; they can't just leave. They eventually feel isolated, with all that vileness piled on. Even if they have friends, those people could never understand what it's like to put up with humiliation and cruelty day after day.

It's not rational to push away a support system, but who said human beings are always rational? People make mistakes. They don't make the right decisions. Geto didn't. He saw someone offer him a chance at change, a possible light at the top of his pile and twisted it to match his overwhelming negativity. He left and swore to destroy the world that made him the way he is, just as that bullied child may turn away from school and society in whatever form that may take.

I want to touch on the physical aspects of Geto's depression, too. I noted this in a previous analysis I did on him (his character is just that amazing, what can I say?), but Gege knew that the mind can't be affected alone. Geto was drawn with deep eyebags, a nod to an inability to sleep or needing to sleep all the time. Depression makes you tired all the time. Everything becomes difficult. He sits with his back hunched, resting his weight on his knees, like sitting upright is too hard. When someone speaks to him, he blinks and takes a second too long to look over or respond, like speaking takes too much energy. To me, it even looked like he was becoming thinner. It's extremely difficult to maintain a schedule of exercise and mealtimes when your mind is fighting an active war against itself.

Again, a beautiful representation of depression. Geto means a lot to me in this aspect.

2. Gojo Satoru

In comparison to Geto, Gojo's horrible mental health is a lot subtler. Depression isn't the correct term, but you don't have to be depressed to be sad. Sadness is his stagnant state; he has moments of bliss, goals to work towards, a reason to keep going, to continue living, to continue chasing the sun over the horizon, but he does return to the same place he is always at when the lights turn off and he's painfully reminded of this one fact: he is isolated.

All of Gojo's problems start and end with isolation. From the moment he was born, everyone knew he was different. He knew he was different. Through glimpses of his childhood and honestly reading between the lines, it's obvious he never played with kids his age. People don't just develop a superiority complex with their only drive to be better than literally everyone else for no other reason than to get better. It comes from somewhere, and in Gojo's case, it's from his young childhood. It seriously messed him up; even now, he can't shake the lesson that "Strength is the only way to success and happiness".

This is what made Geto so important. Geto was somebody who could share the burden of being the strongest. Geto was someone his age who understood him in a way Shoko could not, though they both were able to see Gojo beyond his capabilities as a Jujutsu sorcerer. Gojo then had somebody to base his moral principles on. Because he couldn't connect with anybody else, he had no basis other than strength. Geto taught him why it was important for the strong to protect the weak.

Then everything went wrong. Gojo became isolated again in his strength and lost the only person who could plausibly stand with him. "Are you the strongest because you're Gojo Satoru, or are you Gojo Satoru because you're the strongest?" Gojo was young, then, and fresh-faced into his newfound godhood. He didn't kill Geto in that moment because he wanted to deny the claim that he is nothing without his strength, that he isn't as shallow as he was raised to be.

But he knew better. He grew older, he killed his best friend, and he realized that he was nothing without his strength. He never got over Geto. In order to cope with the guilt of being unable to save him when he left, he adopted a whole kid, thinking that if he wasn't strong enough to save Geto, maybe he could save Megumi. But there it is all over again - he never broke from the cycle of strength defining his worth. Saving Megumi would define his strength, right? It would prove Geto wrong, right? He raised Megumi under the same logic (that the only way to save his sister is to be strong), only ridding the boy of the crushing isolation.

In this way, Gojo isn't mentally weak. He didn't abandon society and everyone who loved him, instead choosing to hone the trauma of his isolated childhood into a weapon and teach the next generation to be better than himself. He isn't depressed, but he isn't happy. You can't be happy if you're alone all of the time. He hoped Megumi could be someone to stand by him, but in the end, he failed to save Megumi. His strength couldn't save him, just as it couldn't save Geto.

He isn't mentally strong. He isn't weak, either. He is horribly, painfully average. He's not weak enough to be saved, but not strong enough to save others. His childhood plagues him, but not to the point where it prevents him from living. He killed Geto but was unable to bury the body. Gojo is everything he never wanted to be.

As it turns out, strength can't buy you happiness. Gojo may have understood that, but he couldn't abandon it, even to the bitter end. Just as a human struggles to shed their conditioning. Not everyone can break the cycle, but we are always trying our best to work with what we've been dealt.

3. Okkotsu Yuuta

I'm putting Yuuta in between Gojo & Geto and Itadori & Megumi because he is, in a way, a bridge between the two. Geto and Gojo have lived their lives; their stories are complete and ended in tragedy. Itadori and Megumi's are not. They are still actively struggling and fighting their physical and mental battles; their stories have yet to be completed.

Yuuta's story isn't technically completed (ignoring everything that happened in the recent chapter with him for the sake of MY mental health), he is still a success story. He is the average protagonist who started from the bottom and ended up at the top. Only he, as Gege has done time and time again, has a slightly stronger focus on mental health than most other Shonen. He is success where Gojo & Geto failed, and the success that Itadori & Megumi are narratively striving for.

At the beginning, Yuuta was depressed and suicidal. He was bullied at school and involuntarily hurting others. Instead of becoming resentful of the world, he pushed all of the vileness inward. His guilt caused him to try to take his life, presumably multiple times, but Rika stopped him before he could succeed. His life was effectively out of his hands; he felt powerless with all of the bodies stacking around him, and he couldn't atone for "his" actions.

His mental health, as it was, was in shambles. Gojo then offered him a way forward. Yuuta's mental health did not improve overnight. It was when he made friends at Jujutsu High, and developed a support system, that he was able to relieve his anxiety and realize that life is not so bad after all. That all of this pain and suffering and loss - it will pass.

The most important thing to acknowledge when it comes to Yuuta is the sheer fact that he was not alone, nor did he allow himself to be alone. Unlike Gojo, who still had Shoko and Nanami after Geto left but refused to connect with them, Yuuta allowed himself to get close to those around him. They didn't know the suffering he'd undergone for so many years. They didn't know what it was like to be him, but that was okay. He knew that they had empathy, that even though they could never experience his life, they could still be there for him now when he falls.

When given the opportunity to surrender, Yuuta stands in the face of one Geto Suguru and swears to protect his friends and fight with Rika. He's so far removed from the boy who tried to kill himself at the beginning of the manga, and that's because he let himself be changed. He did not succumb. He had friends, he knew. People that would miss him if he left, and people whom he would regret leaving.

This stays consistent with his character. He doesn't let himself become isolated in his strength or his experiences. He's much stronger than everyone else in the room, he's a special grade and he knows that, but he still treats everyone like they are equals. Like they are his friends, like they are people who could share this burden of existence with him. This is something that Gojo couldn't accomplish, which lends to the fact that Gojo had a very off-hand teaching method when it came to mentoring Yuuta. Instead of influencing him under this idea of strength conquers all, he let Yuuta develop far away from the ideals of the Japanese Jujutsu Society.

And, in the end, the fact of him being physically strong - a special-grade sorcerer from the get-go - never helped him in his mental health. In fact, it made him miserable until he learned to get a handle on Rika. His winning or losing that fight with Geto wasn't the point of his character, it was reckoning with the fact that he is okay now. That he can embrace the ugly part of him with dignity instead of guilt.

4. Itadori Yuuji

Itadori's entire character is that he has an unbreakable spirit. As the only one who can bear the soul of Sukuna, he started off like Yuuta, only on the opposite end of the mental health spectrum. When we first see him, he's happy, spending his afternoons with the Occult Club and watching movies.

... What happened?

Like Geto, everything piled on very slowly. So slow that I'm not even sure he felt the true effects of everything he experienced up until the fall of Shibuya. It starts with the death of grandfather, whose parting words "Just save as many people as you can" haunt him even now during the final fight with Sukuna. He was never given time to properly grieve his grandfather, just as he never had time to grieve the brother curses, Junpei, Nanami, Nobara, Gojo, Higurama. At the end of it all, when the fighting is over, I have to wonder what will become of the boy that realizes he's lost most of the people he loved.

The one time he did try to process it, when he realized that he couldn't control Sukuna, was when he broke down in Shibuya. Sukuna leveled an entire city. For the boy who never wanted to kill another human being for fear of devaluing life, the weight of his weakness killing thousands was crushing. Then Nanami died. Nobara died (still hanging onto that unknown status but I digress). Both are right in front of him, and powerless to prevent Mahito from disintegrating their bodies. So, obviously, Itadori broke down. The boy with the unshakeable spirit, the only person who could contain the King of Curses, has his psyche completely shattered.

He laid on the ground, and he wouldn't have gotten back up if there wasn't somebody to help him, to be there with him. Todo pulled him back together, stitched back up the broken into somebody who has allies and people to fight for. Itadori has the success that Yuuta had, only Itadori did not come out of it with better mental health.

After the breakdown, his unshakeable spirit was nothing more than the will to keep fighting. He cares little for himself, and he tries to distance himself from people to prevent them from dying from his cursed hands. He is jumping, quickly, down the same rabbit hole that Geto fell down. One big event, and they realize just how tall the pile already is, and that it will never stop growing. Unlike Geto, however, he continues to get overbearing support from those around him. Against his will. He can't push them away, for they refuse to leave his side. Yuuta, Choso, Megumi, even Higurama. They won't let him fall. This makes him better off than someone alone, in a sense. He can withstand his trauma when others may not.

Even so, even so, there is only so much support, the lack of self-isolation, can do when the traumas keep actively repeating. When he says that he will gladly die to defeat Sukuna, it is not said with the same tone that another Shonen protagonist would say it. Take Naruto for example. If he were to go into a battle to protect, say, Sasuke, he would scream, "I'll die to protect him." We understand that his willpower is stronger than his self-preservation, but we don't get the idea that he actively wants to die. He'll die if he has to. Now, Itadori says the same thing, but about saving Megumi. He says, "I'll gladly die." There is something different. His willpower is leaps and bounds stronger than his self-preservation, but that's not only it. There is an undercurrent of severe suicidal ideation prevalent in Itadori's tone. It's not that he will die to win, it's that a part of him wants for this to be his final fight. For it all to be over. To save Megumi, then atone for the sin of being too weak to save Shibuya, or being unable to stop the Culling Games, or letting Megumi get hurt when all he wanted was to keep him safe.

I'd call it more along the lines of passive suicidal ideation. He doesn't plan to kill himself, but what would it mean for him to go into dangerous situations without protection? What would it mean for him to succumb to his wounds after he wakes Megumi's soul and kills Sukuna? To not even try to seek medical attention? He's guilty. He believes everything that happened in Shibuya and after is his fault. When faced with the executioner's sword, he was ready to die for his sins, if not for the goal of ending the Games. There is a fine line between willing to die for those you love versus wanting to die for those you love.

Right now, Itadori is fighting to save one person, like his grandfather said. He is not fighting to survive. And that's what people fail to understand about Itadori when they compare him to the other members of the cast. These power-scaling dudebros don't understand that their favorite OP main character has fallen apart at the seams, that his unshakeable spirit to save people doesn't include himself.

5. Fushiguro Megumi

Here we finally come to the question: Why can Itadori take it when Megumi can't? There is a very similar quote that you probably think of whenever you hear this question asked. It's from The Outsiders: "Dally is tougher than I am. Why can I take it when Dally can't?" The answer to this question that Ponyboy gives is the same we can attribute to Megumi. "And then I knew. Johnny was the only thing Dally loved. And now Johnny was gone."

The entire reason Megumi became a Jujutsu sorcerer was to protect his sister. When he was five years old and probably too young to understand most of the words Gojo said, he accepted the offer of training to become a sorcerer in exchange for Tsumiki's happiness. Every day, he fought to protect her. He only had one goal in entering the Culling Games: to prevent Tsumiki from having to participate.

It's easy to attribute Megumi's constant attempts at summoning Mahoraga to a lack of will to live - suicidal ideation, the same that Itadori now experiences. On one hand, I do understand that he has a fundamental lack of care for his own life, but on the other, I don't think that he intends to throw it all away every single time. He just didn't know any better. Ignorance can lead to death as easily as intentionally seeking it out. That's why he changes his habit after Gojo gives him a lesson in risking death versus dying to win; Megumi still has someone to live for, after all.

Megumi's mental health was already rocky from the start. Not that it was in shambles like Yuuta, but he wasn't fully stable. Like a lot of teenagers, he's moody, somewhat reclusive, and only really likes one or two people maximum. Teenagers aren't known for their sunshine mental health anyway.

Megumi was given time to grieve Itadori after he first died. This trauma of losing him in front of his eyes stuck with him, but he was allowed a grace period of two months to grieve with Nobara. He experienced Shibuya, too, but he still had that one important person to protect. His mental health was alright at this point, all things considered. As long as his sister was alive, he would be fine.

Sukuna knew this. So Sukuna killed Tsumiki using only the Ten Shadows Teqchnique. The one person Megumi spent his whole life dedicated to, was killed by his own cursed technique, his own failure to suppress Sukuna.

In the void of his soul, Megumi was alone. Truly, utterly alone. The only person nearby was Sukuna, the murderer of his sister, the murderer of thousands upon thousands of people. He drowned in the ceremonial bath of crushed curses to hold his soul down in the depths of despair, literally drenched in all of the vileness the world has to offer. Sukuna killed Gojo using Mahoraga's adaption ability, and before that, Megumi was forced to take several of Gojo's mind-altering domain expansions.

Already, he had given up. He gave up when his sister died, but the rest ground a pointed spur into his neck. When Itadori shakes his soul, Megumi is repeating, "That's enough." He was at the end of his rope a long time ago. What more is there to keep living for? He doesn't want to live with the blood of his sister, the blood of the man who practically raised him, and the blood of countless others drenching his hands.

Sukuna killed all of these people, not Megumi. But then, Sukuna killed of those people in Shibuya, not Itadori. Why can Itadori take it? Why can he keep fighting when Megumi lays broken on the ground? Itadori wasn't alone. And Megumi has never been known for his unshakeable spirit. That is the one thing that Itadori can hold over everybody else, the one trait that everyone admires. He was born to shoulder the burden of the world. Megumi wasn't. Megumi wants to die. He is not passively suicidal, for he has no goals left to complete, a plan to die within the body no longer inhabited alone. He is suicidal. He would drive a stake through his heart if it meant relieving his pain. He doesn't want to do it anymore. He's had enough.

And Itadori was in this position once, too? Perhaps not as directly, but he was there. Here is the moment that the protagonist gives the motivating speech to will someone to keep fighting, that life is worth living. I realized today that this is not something Itadori has done yet. He hasn't had a grand speech that's not been about his own willpower. He's never encouraged someone else to keep living in the way that you would expect from the main character. This is his moment, I suppose. He needs to be the person for Megumi that Todo was for him. He has to show Megumi that he isn't alone.

He needs to save Megumi when, all those years ago, Gojo couldn't save Geto.

I don't think some of this fanbase understands how horrible Gege has to be at writing if he just. Let Megumi get up to fight in Chapter 251. All this time, he has shown how Megumi has been defeated. He showed him crumbled on the ground, unmoving. It shouldn't be a surprise that all of the measures Sukuna took to ensnare Megumi's soul worked. Megumi is suicidal after the people he loves have all died because of his technique. God forbid a sixteen-year-old is unable to cope with his trauma alone.

Honorable Mentions:

There are a lot more characters in this story that represent/show mental illness that I didn't go into depth on but are worth mentioning. It was easier to only talk about the major characters since we spend so much time with them and I can fully flesh out everything that should/can be said about them. Anyway, here are a few more that are notably well-written in their mental struggles:

Yoshino Junpei. His story arc follows very similarly to Geto, except he is the bullied student I was making a reference to. Depressed, alone with a mother whose habits he can't stand, he turned to someone he thought could provide him a better life. Interestingly, he is a good representation of the type of children that tend to be groomed. That's surely what happened to him. Mahito used him, then discarded him for his own gains.

Ieiri Shoko. Her main struggle can be seen through her smoking habits. She's been through a lot, lost so many people, and has to keep healing sorcerers only for them to die. Eventually, she was able to come to terms with this. She kicked her smoking habit at the same time she kicked the vicious mental cycle of caring too much about the patient on her table. It's no wonder she picked up a cigarette, for the first time in a while, when Geto led the phantom parade.

Zenin Maki. She works as a very good contrast to Megumi. They both lost their sisters, the people they loved the most, but she turned all of her grief to killing the Zenin clan and gaining Heavenly Restriction. But this, this is because she could do so. There is simply nothing Megumi can do as a soul trapped in his own body. Her grief made her stronger, while for most, it made them weaker.

Inumaki Toge. He isn't seen a lot, but his story is ultimately quite compelling. A boy who hurt many when he was young. He turned his guilt into kindness, a will to protect. He tends a garden to raise plants healthily, for God's sake. He's one of the examples that shows Yuuta that your past actions don't define you, but instead, what you choose to do going forward.

I am not proofreading any of this before I post it. Sorry if it is borderline unreadable with spelling / grammatical errors.

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sentientcave · 2 months

Text

Heavy Weighs the Crown

Sometimes a Bearimy is many moons, and sometimes it's just a couple days! Do not expect this sort of pace to continue though this chapter was most of the way finished when I posted the first one.

Chapter 2 - Familiar and Forgotten

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Contains: Generic fantasy setting, Princess Reader, No Y/N, Some exposition, Reader's dad (deceased) was a real piece of work, Noncon kissing, Alcohol mentions, Smoking mention, Reader descriptions kept as neutral as possible but keep in mind that she is a character to me and does have a specific appearance so things might slip through.

~5.2k words

You don’t say much for the rest of the journey.

It’s not far, really, only an hour or two from the bridge in the woods, and your anxiety seizes you so completely that you can do little more than smile wanly at Kyle’s jokes and Johnny’s attempts to flirt with you. Ghost stays as quiet as you do, a comforting spectre of familiarity walking by your side.

The city is much like you remember it, but there’s life now, where a grim shadow hung over the people before. Windows are thrown open, laundry hangs on lines spanning between houses, brightly coloured clothes flapping in the breeze like flags. Children play in one of the alley’s you pass by, kicking a ball between them, although they stop to watch you pass, eyes growing big, collecting at the edge of the street so they can stare for longer. People begin to gather at the peripheries everywhere, the gentle roar of many hushed voices drowning out all else. It seems that the people here still recognize you, although you’re not sure if it’s by your face or the company that escorts you along.

The castle looms over the city, tall, imposing walls made a little friendlier with blue and silver banners hung from the parapets, the oppressive air lessened, but not entirely erased. You think that nothing could make the castle look truly welcoming— It never has been to you, not even when you did call it home.

Ghost looks at you as you approach the dark stone walls, and puts a big hand on your thigh. “Olright?” he asks quietly.

You nod, swallowing thickly as Nox’s claws scrape over the wooden drawbridge. It feels like the palace means to devour you whole, the shade of the main courtyard matching your somber mood. It’s greener than you remember, a raised garden bed full of flowers and a few small trees sits in the center of things now, directing traffic coming in around in a circle rather than every which way. There are gardens on the flat roofs of some of the outbuildings too, where they can catch more light despite the looming walls.

Nox stops in front of the stairs up to the main door, and Ghost lifts you down easily. When you look up, you notice there are people gathering around the main courtyard too, a gentle susurrus rising up around you like the wind. A stable hand approaches to take Kyle's horse, stumbling over his feet, too busy staring at you to watch where he's going.

"Standin' around with their gobs open," Johnny grumbles. "S'like they've ne'er seen a princess before."

Kyle thanks the stable hand when he passes the reigns to him, and offers his arm to you. "Are you ready, sweetpea?" His smile strains at the corners when you look at him. Your own face must be grim indeed.

"I'll have to be," you say, curling your hand around his arm, gathering your skirts with your other hand. You feel small and plain as you ascend on Kyle's arm, dressed simply in clothes you sewed yourself, glad you were wearing your second best skirt at least. Why that bothers you now you couldn't say-- Its not as though you're concerned with making a good impression.

Kyle leads you into the hall of judgment, where your father used to take petitions and settle disputes. It's different here too-- There are benches for supplicants to sit while they wait, and a few desks set to one side of the ante chamber, where clerks speak to citizens in hushed voices, helping speed along the process. There aren't very many people there really, it's not the tired crush of hollow eyed people clamoring for attention from a disinterested king now. Its organized, efficient, fair-minded. You can't help but approve.

John Price sits on the dais, listening to the man in front of him, but his stone-faced attention breaks when he looks up and sees you. He stands and hops down the steps, touching the man's arm. "I will send a hunting party to deal with your manticore problem," he promises. "But if you'll excuse me…" his blue eyes lock onto you, sweeping down and back up to your face.

You feel pinned in place by the intensity of those eyes, Kyle's presence by your side not enough to melt the cracking ice that settles around you.

"Princess!" John greets you enthusiastically, arms wide as he strides across the hall, meeting you in the middle. "Welcome home. I trust your journey was a pleasant one? It's a nice day for a ride through the countryside." He looks good, although there's silver in his beard and glittering by his temples that was never there before, and a plain silver circlet on his brow. He dresses the same as you remember, for comfort and practicality rather than for fashion, and he still fills out his clothes in much the same way, his broad, powerful body unchanged despite his new vocation.

"A better day for tending to the garden," you say. "But Sir Garrick rather insisted on the ride."

John smiles at you warmly, and Kyle wordlessly pulls away from you, leaving you standing before John alone. You're pulled into an embrace before you know what's happening, oak-solid arms crushing you to his chest. He pulls back enough to look at you, but he doesn't let you go. The pleasant tobacco and warm spice scent of him engulfs you, caged in his arms while he studies your upturned face. "You're more beautiful than I remember," he says. "It's good to see you."

You open your mouth to respond, but he seizes the opportunity to kiss you. Not a chaste press of lips to your cheeks, which would have been an appropriate greeting between two people of your status, but a kiss, a real one, his mouth slotting over yours like you were reuniting lovers rather than near-perfect strangers.

He kisses you for a long moment, lips moving against yours possessively, long enough for the room to grow unbearably silent around you, shame twisting with a childish flame rekindled the instant he put his hands on you. You push against his chest, and he finally comes to his senses, not releasing you or giving you more space, but at least ending the kiss, letting you breathe and sort out your conflicted feelings.

“Why did you do that?” you ask him, voice low and breathless, even if you would prefer to shout it, or perhaps punctuate the question with a slap.

“Because I wanted to,” he says pleasantly, smiling in that infuriating, cheeky way he used to when he caught you watching the knights practising from the palace windows. “I think it was long overdue, don’t you?”

“No!” You don’t want to admit, considering your age, that he’s stolen your first kiss, like it was something owed to him instead of yours to give when you chose to, and you certainly don’t want to admit that you liked it. You don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of the people still watching either, which is undoubtedly why he chose this as the place for your first meeting, where you would be cuffed by propriety, giving him advantage over you. Kings didn’t have to worry about propriety— Who was there to scold them for bad behaviour?

Had John ever worried about that sort of thing? Perhaps that was why your father had so militantly kept him away from you, not because of the threat to the crown, but the threat to your virtue. A man that would so casually waltz past all social convention would find no resistance from a sheltered, shy princess. Perhaps if you had been more bold— Perhaps if you were more bold now you would be able to tell him off.

“I don’t appreciate being plucked from my home and manhandled by you and your knights,” you hiss, plucking courage from thin air. You push against his chest again, and this time he lets you go, but it only makes you angrier, because you both know he only did so because he chose to. “What do you want, John? Let’s attend to business so I can leave as soon as possible.”

He glances behind you, at his knights, an eyebrow raised. “Well, you certainly aren’t going anywhere tonight, are you? We can chat properly over the evening meal.” He sweeps you along, a hand between your shoulders, where his thumb touches bare skin, toying with the edge of your shirt. “I’ll show you to your room, hm? You can wash up and change, if you’d like. Although I must say, this country mouse attire looks rather sweet on you.”

“I don’t think any of my old clothes will fit anymore,” you say tartly. You’re certainly not the weak, spindly thing you used to be, the sapling struggling to grow in your father’s shadow. Your time with Kate has done you good, made you stronger and filled out soft curves. Joy is expansive, and it takes up space that you never would have dared to occupy before.

“Of course not,” he says. “I’ve had new things made for you. Gaz’s sister reached out to Kate for your measurements.”

“Why would she— You had no right to ask for such a thing!” you say hotly. Now that you’re alone in the hallways, you feel more at ease speaking your mind.

He’s unperturbed by your anger, still smiling. “Perhaps not. But I thought it important to stand ready, should you ever decide to come home.”

“This is not my home any longer.”

John hums, his hand sliding down to your hip, tugging you closer to his side. “This will always be your home, princess,” he says matter-of-factly, like there’s no room for argument, the way he sees it.

He tries to follow you into your room, but you quickly shut the door in his face, nearly hitting him. He manages to jump clear, and you can hear his laughter on the other side. You’re getting a bit tired of these men thinking that it’s funny when you hold your ground against them, but you’re not yet sure how to get them to listen when they (and especially John) are so used to getting exactly what they want. It strikes you that you’ll probably have plenty of time to figure it out, since you don’t think you’ll be going home as soon as you'd like.

Kyle and Johnny seem like your most likely allies. And perhaps Ghost, since he told you more than he was supposed to already. Anyone else would be too worried about drawing the king’s ire and getting in trouble or losing their jobs, but those three aren’t just his knights. They’re his friends too.

And as far as you’re concerned, friends don’t let friends keep women imprisoned for indeterminate amounts of time.

You wash up, and parse through the closet for something to wear, frowning slightly at your options. There’s nothing wrong with any of the dresses you find— Everything is beautiful, elegant, well-made, in colours that suit your complexion, made of gorgeous, rustling silk. But they also all have closures at the back, long rows of delicate buttons that will be a nightmare to do up yourself. After so many years living independently, you resent the idea of someone having to help dress you. Perhaps that was why John tried to follow you, so he could be there to offer a hand.

How altruistic of him.

You fantasize about kicking him hard in the shins with the work boots that you sadly left at home, and choose a dress in a deep plum colour, getting as dressed as you can. You consider waiting to ask whoever comes to collect you for dinner, but you suspect that that might be John. You’re just about to wander out into the hallway to see if you can find a member of the castle staff to aid you, when you hear a shout outside, and laughter.

You press one hand to you chest to keep the dress from falling away from your skin inappropriately, and peer over the edge of the balcony. Johnny, Kyle and Ghost are in the courtyard below, Ghost and Kyle sitting on the fountain edge, and Johnny doing a dance that seems to be entirely hopping and kicking, while balancing a knife’s point on the tip of his finger.

“Excuse me,” you call down, smiling as prettily as you can muster. Johnny stops dancing and drops his knife entirely, but blessedly doesn’t try to catch it. “Could one of you give me a quick hand? This dress has so many buttons.”

They look at each other for a moment, and volunteer as one, Kyle and Ghost immediately falling into bickering over who should help you. Johnny looks at the ground and up to you a few times rather than fight with the others, and takes a running leap, fingers catching on the balcony floor. He swings a few times before popping up, catching the railing and clambering over with surprising grace. “I would be happy to help ye, sweetpea. An’ Ah’m sorry abou’, er, lickin’ yer wrist earlier. Was a wolf awl mornin’, cannae always shake the compulsion straight after a shift.”

“Apology accepted,” you say, reaching up with both hands and scratching the stubble under his chin gently. He leans into your palms with a groan, letting you guide him down to your level so you can kiss the tip of his nose. “I know you’re a good boy, Johnny. You were just excited.”

“I was,” he admits, cheeks turning a little pink. “They awl met ye before, and they talk about ye sometimes, ye ken? An’ yer even nicer an’ bonnier up close. Ah’m glad I didna try to lick yer face. Ye didnae look very happy with Price doin’ it.”

“He was very forward. It’s not the sort of thing I appreciate. I don’t intend to let him walk all over me just because he’s the king now.” You release Johnny’s jaw and turn so he can get to work on the buttons, pulling your braids out of the way over your shoulder. “It seems like he’s a little too used to getting his way.”

“Ah, weel, he’s stubborn as awl hell, sweetpea. No’ really his fault, he’s just righ’ more of’en than no’, ye ken? An’ when yer never wrong, ye never learn ta compromise.”

“Surely he’s not always right,” you say. “No one’s infallible.”

He laughs, fingers stalling against your back. “Yer righ’ of course. But Ah’m never the one to catch the old man bein’ wrong. So I dinnae ken if he admits it. I would be surprised.”

“Do you know what he wants from me?” you ask. “It seems odd that he let me live in peace all these years, only to drag me back now.”

“I dinnae ken awl the details, princess. Figure it’s sommat ta do with yer cousin raisin’ an army over across the western border, aye? Probably wants ye to scold the wee rascal for him.” He continues buttoning, and then stalls again. “Aw shite. Missed one.” You feel him begin to undo the buttons he was just working on.

You press your fingers to your mouth to stifle a giggle. “Sorry, I’m distracting you. Shouldn’t be asking so many questions.”

“Aw no, I dinnae mind none. S’nice ta talk ta ye. Always thought princesses’d be all stuck up and snooty. But yer no’ at awl. Ahve been ta yer story hour at the market once or twice too. Think it’s nice ye take pity on us buggers that cannae read well. An ye choose good stories.”

“I’ve never seen you there,” you say.

“Usually go in on four legs. No one minds another mangy dog, so long as I don’t get too close or growl at the bairns. Can hear better tha’ way too, aye? Blacksmith always let me lay down beside his shop.” He marches two fingers across your shoulder playfully. “Awl done.”

“Thank you, Johnny.” You turn to look at him again, regarding him thoughtfully. It doesn’t take much to turn him from a large, dangerous man to an eager to please puppy. Something to tuck into your pocket for later.

“Ye can call me Soap, if ye like. The lads do, most of the time. An’ the boss man. But Johnny is good too. Like hearin’ it from ye.” He looks a bit bashful, twisting his fingers together absently now that he has nothing else to fuss with, bright blue eyes cast down and half hidden by his long, dark lashes. “Ah ken it’s no’ what yer hopin’ for, but I hope ye stay a while. S’nice. Feels like there’s an empty space around here, and ye’d fill it an’ then some.”

“I’ll think about it,” you say. “I’m sure it mostly depends on how angry your, um, boss man makes me.”

“He’s no’ a bad sort.” Johnny instantly leaps to John’s defense, a touch of anxiety colouring his voice. He wears every emotion on his sleeve, another useful something to know. “Been good ta me, when lot’s of folk think I’m no’ much more’n a monster.”

“I’ve never heard of a werewolf that can shift at will like you do,” you muse. “You must have remarkable self control.”

Something dark flits across his face, but he does his best to hide it behind his crooked grin. “Naw, no’ really. S’a story, but no’ one I want ta tell righ’ now.”

“That’s alright,” you tell him gently, placing your hand on top of his. His knuckles are rough, scarred from a lifetime of hitting things hard. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But I’ll listen, if you do want to talk.”

“Yer goan ta turn me intae a big softie at this rate,” he says, waving off your words with a laugh. “Come oan, Sweetpea. I’ll walk ye ta dinner. Figure ye know the way, but Ah’m told it’s polite to escort a lady.”

“Very polite,” you assure him, placing your hand on his offered arm. “Thank you, Johnny.”

His grin is infectious, and he puffs up his chest slightly, pleased as punch to receive your approval. You descend the stairs, picking up your skirts with your other hand so they don’t drag, and John appears at the bottom of the steps, his expression turning carefully, diplomatically blank when he sees you on Johnny’s arm.

“Perfect timing,” he says. “I was just about to come get you. Thank you, Soap, I can take her from here.”

“How very kind!” you return, gripping a little tighter to Johnny’s arm so he doesn’t run off just yet. “Johnny was nice enough to help me with my dress. All these buttons— I had no idea that button closures were the style these days.”

John’s eyes narrow just the slightest bit, like he’s not sure if you’re being earnest or not. “Nor did I,” he says evenly. Liar.

“It can be so hard to keep track of these things.” You send Johnny another bright smile. “Will you be joining us?” you ask sweetly.

Johnny looks at John uneasily. “Oh, n-no, I dinnae think—”

You curl into him slightly, placing your hand on his chest, drawing his attention back to you and away from the disapproving frown that’s beginning to form on John’s face. “Oh, nonsense. In fact, would you mind fetching Kyle and Ghost as well? We all had such a pleasant afternoon, and I feel like we’ve only just begun catching up.”

Johnny’s fingers catch on the lace hemming your trailing sleeve, his cheeks pink and eyes focused on your face. “Oh, aye, anything ye like, princess.”

“Thank you so much Johnny. You have been so helpful today. I really appreciate it.” You release him, and he dashes off without a second thought or glance to John for approval. “What a sweet boy he is,” you say to John as you flit to his side, all innocence, well aware that Johnny can still hear you. “Shall we?”

John gives you a searching look, still not certain if you’ve disrupted his plans on purpose or just by being far too sweet. “I had intended for dinner to be just the two of us.”

“Now John, that would hardly be appropriate,” you lightly scold. “The two of us, alone without a chaperone? What would people say? If I didn’t know better, I would think you were trying to put me in a compromising position.”

His lips twitch under his moustache, the ghost of a smile appearing in his eyes. “Perish the thought. Didn’t think of the implication, is all.” He opens the door to what had once been your father’s private dining room, but hesitates in the doorway. “Perhaps we should wait for the lads,” he says thoughtfully. “Since you’re concerned with the optics of being alone with me.”

You raise your eyebrows. “They’ll be along in a moment, no? I’m not sure what you think could happen in a few minutes, but I’m sure you’re capable of behaving yourself for that long.” You sweep past him, unconcerned, and he follows, letting the door fall shut behind him, the latch clicking shut loudly in the otherwise silent room. You cast about for a conversation that you can fling up between the two of you like a flimsy shield, your tongue suddenly heavy again. John has a way of sucking up all the air in a room, and he feels nearly as large and imposing as Ghost in a confined space like this. You don’t feel safe like you would with Ghost. You feel like a wobbly-legged fawn caged in with a blue-eyed wolf.

And you would feel less like that if you were in here with the man who really is a blue-eyed wolf. You don’t think the man standing before you will melt with a few kind words or a soft touch. He’ll only take it as permission to push you further.

“Your inexperience is showing,” John says conversationally, taking a step toward you.

You take a hasty step back. “How so?”

He takes another step forward. You take another back. The pattern repeats until he has you backed up against the mantle. “A lot can happen in just a few minutes, sweetpea.” His thick fingers curl around your jaw, forcing you to face him when all you want to do is sink into the floor or vanish entirely. “Could do anything I liked to you, alone like this. You’re right to be cautious.” His hand slides lower, callouses brushing your skin, raising goosebumps along the back of your neck and prickling all the way down your spine. His palm rests on your throat, so he can measure the nervous flutter of your pulse. You swallow nervously, and you know he can feel it.

Still, he doesn’t squeeze, and there’s no threat in his eyes. Worse, there’s a promise, and heat that could spark into a blaze with the slightest provocation.

“It’s a good thing you’re a man of honour, then.” You mean it as a challenge, a reminder of the rules of engagement. You came prepared for a game of chess, and he’s knocked all the pieces onto the floor and lunged at you across the board. Your words come out whisper soft, plaintive instead of confident.

“A good thing indeed.” He takes a step back, and then another, his hand falling away, leaving you standing by the mantle, clinging to it for support.

It was a good thing the fireplace is cold, this time of year, or you might be tempted to throw yourself in just to save yourself the embarrassment of being so completely set off balance.

“Here.” John returns to your side, this time leaving enough space for you to breathe, and offers you a glass of wine. White wine, like he remembers your preferences somehow. Your fingers brush his when you take the glass, and you try not to shake from the force of whatever it is that he stirs up in you.

It’s too vast to identify, and threatens to engulf you, swallow you whole. It’s an ocean, as deep and blue as his eyes, and you’re already struggling to stay afloat. You feel like the only things keeping you from drowning are your righteous anger and sense of self-preservation. But recognizing the danger he poses to you, to your freedom, if not your life, doesn’t pluck you from the water or save you from the circling shark. You don’t know how to do that. You’re not sure if you want to.

“I should apologize,” he says gently. “For greeting you the way I did earlier. I’d dreamt of our reunion so many times that it felt like the most natural thing in the world, kissing you like that. I should have better kept myself in check.”

You sip your wine. It’s sharp and not too sweet, just the sort of thing you used to like, and many times better than what you’ve had for years now. But the taste only reminds you of things best left forgotten, sour remnants of a life you wished to leave behind. Even this room, redecorated to another man’s preferences, feels as oppressive as your father’s presence in life.

Maybe it’s the weight of the crown, that bends and twists even the most upright men, because you already see the makings of a tyrant in John. So used to getting his way already, he expects you to fall into line, do as your told, take your rightful place at his side, on his arm.

In his bed.

“Are you going to?” you ask.

He’s confused by that, a frown settling between his brows. “Going to what, sweetpea?”

“Apologize. Saying you should apologize is not the same as actually being sorry.”

He’s entirely taken aback by that, rendered speechless. It’s probably been years since anyone checked him like that, and it sends a bit of a thrill through you to be the one to do so. He has the advantage in this battle you’ve waged against him— He’s larger and stronger, he claims authority that you’ve rejected, he has allies where you have none— but you’ve still managed to strike a blow, with honesty as your only weapon.

The other three men finally join you, snapping the tension in the room, clearing it away like cobwebs.

Well, most of the tension, anyway. You sit between John and Ghost, rather than take the chair opposite John. You have no desire to be forced to bear that heavy stare for the entire meal. Kyle and Johnny sit opposite you, and you maintain light conversation with the two of them. Ghost sits to your right, his mask tipped up enough for him to eat, his scarred mouth and jaw visible to you for the first time. His gloves are off too, revealing broad, powerful hands littered with fine scars, and a few deep ones too. Most of them are obviously blade wounds, but there’s a particularly deep one, a chunk of missing flesh between his thumb and forefinger on his left hand that keeps drawing your eyes back.

“Me’n Nox ‘ad a misunderstandin’ when we first met,” he says, unprompted, noticing your glances. “She took a chunk outta me. Was a good thing she was still small, or I’d’ve lost my whole ‘and.”

“Small!” Johnny says with a snort. “The wee beastie was bigger than me!”

“You were a runt,” Ghost chuckles, “but I s’pose she was still plenty big. Got ‘er talons sunk pretty deep in my thigh too. Got ‘er to listen to reason in the end though. She din’t know I was tryin’ to ‘elp.”

You see that same darkness in Johnny’s eyes as earlier, so you change the subject, asking about a burn on Ghost’s wrist. He starts in on a tale of hunting an outlaw mage, with plenty of interjections from Kyle, and then Johnny as well, until he gives up trying to tell it, and lets the younger men take over.

You feel his attention on you for a while after that, like he knew what you did and why.

John is pensive, still ruminating on what you said, quiet over the meal. It must not be that great a change from usual, because it doesn’t seem to bother the other three in the least. He insists on walking you to your room once the hour grows later, however, and leans against your door frame.

“You’re right,” he says, catching your hand so you can’t go inside and shut the door in his face for a second time that day. “I didn’t apologize. And I’m not sorry. I know I should be, and I won’t do it again, but I can’t say I feel all that badly about it.”

It’s something, at least. A concession, if not an apology. “Thank you, John.” He doesn’t let go of your hand, and his thumb is rubbing distracting circles over your knuckles. “Is there something else?”

“We never talked business.”

“No. But I know what you want, John, and the answer is no. I want to go home, I have a life to return to, and I don’t belong here any longer.” The disappointment is clear on his face, but he only nods. You continue, encouraged by his silence. “I will, however, make a public statement of support, in whatever way you need. I imagine my cousin will wish to send a witness, to ensure I’m not being coerced. I will stay until then, and then you will allow me to go home. Is that sufficient?”

He thinks about it for a moment, his thumb tapping against your hand now. “I suppose it will have to be.”

“Then it’s settled. Goodnight, John.” You try to pull your hand free, but he tightens his grip just enough to keep you anchored to him.

“Wait.” He tugs you a step closer. “May I kiss you?”

You roll his request around in your mind for a moment. He’s willing to accept that you won’t marry him, without so much as a fight. You can’t deny that you want to say yes either, and you have just enough wine in you to make you bold, but not reckless. “One kiss,” you reply. “No more than that. And then I am going to bed.”

He cups your face and stoops to meet you, pressing his lips to yours tenderly, without any of the brash possessiveness of earlier. Just sweet and slow, coaxing you to open up for him. You relax into his touch, parting your lips, a soft little whine escaping your throat, pulling an answering groan from him as he licks into your mouth. You have to grip his wrists just to stay upright, the sound turns your knees and resolve to jelly, the taste of good whiskey and smoke from his after dinner cigar lingering on your tongue as he pulls away.

His eyes are fever-bright, and his breathing ragged as you release each other. “Goodnight, sweetpea,” he says softly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You slip into your room and lean against the door, knees still weak, desire simmering inside you. The kiss had been a bad idea, because all you can think of now is asking for another, and another, and another.

***

Image credits: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - Divider by CafeKitsune

#Fantasy AU #cod mw fanfiction #x reader #x fem reader #141 x reader #heavy weighs the crown #Uh oh sweetpea

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mrs-kmikaelson · 11 months

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03| The Tribrid

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x daughter!reader Summary: After you find out your father is having and embracing another child, you think life can't get any worse... but you were wrong. Warnings: this gets angsty, kids Words: 2.9K

Masterlist | Part 4

I felt a tidal wave of different emotions. Shock, sadness, fear, and for some reason, anger. My heart sank to my stomach as I tried to process the information.

Until I realized I couldn't. Elijah and werewolf girl were right in front of me. So I shook it off, if that's the way you'd phrase it, and blinked. "You're Klaus' wife?"

Both Elijah and the werewolf cringed. "Ew, no." She made a gagging noise. "I just slept with him once in a moment of- absolute stupidity." Ew. She shook her head and pointed at me. "I just realized I don't know your name- I'm Hayley."

She did the whole 'hold out your hand for a hand shake thing' I already did with Elijah, but I still shook her hand and replied, "Y/N."

Elijah, who looked both vaguely confused and amused, cut in and pointed to us both, "Pardon me, but how, exactly, do you two know each other?"

Something happened in Hayley's eyes before she answered like she was choosing what to say. She glanced at me and then said, "I met her the other day. I spilled my tea on her at the café."

My brow rose at the lie, but I didn't say anything. I just shrugged and reckoned, "Small world." Hayley's eyes met mine in a thankful expression and I subtly nodded at her before smiling at both of them. "I better get back to the party." I nodded to all the people. "Nice meeting you both- well, formally meeting you, Hayley."

Elijah gave a two-fingered wave that looked almost like a peace sign, but it was too refined looking to be categorized that way. "It's been a pleasure, Y/N." In his eyes, I saw a bit of recognition flash, but it was gone too quickly for me to register.

I turned around and began walking. I didn't really see what I was doing, I was just too focused on trying not to speed out of the building. My mind and my heart raced to see who could move faster and I was beginning to feel like I couldn't breathe.

When I ended up in another hallway, I sped into a room and closed the door without caring who saw me. Immediately, I pressed against it and everything that I'd just repressed in that conversation came rushing back to me in a flood.

Klaus Mikaelson is having a baby.

My father is having a baby.

I felt like I wanted to cry, and scream, and tear my hair out but I spent way too long doing my hair earlier to even run my hands through it right now. I exhaled, trying to calm myself down. But then another thought came rushing to me. I just met Elijah Mikaelson. God, could this day get any weirder?

The answer to that is yes. Yes, it could. Because I looked up and, staring right back at me, was the Klaus Mikaelson.

I couldn't stop my jaw from actually dropping this time. I was too shocked to even say anything.

He stepped closer to me and it was like I was frozen. He kept walking closer and closer until he was right in front of me. I couldn't keep my eyes off his because, my God, I have never been so close to him before and his eyes look just. like. mine.

He seemed to see the same thing I saw because, for a second, his blank expression was broken by a small look of curiosity. And, for a second, I wondered if he realized it.

And, for a second, I realized how sad it was that I've been on this planet for five hundred years, and this is the first time I've ever seen my father. And he still doesn't know it.

As he picked me apart with this gaze, there was so much I wanted to say, so much I thought I was over. I'm your daughter, I wanted to blurt out. I wish I had the courage to say it out loud, but there were so many thoughts I had that fought against that.

Her voice echoes throughout my head. Your father wouldn't love you, Y/N.

And with that thought, I close myself off as I'd done many times already. I pushed all my feelings down and pretended harder than I ever had to before, because I don't think I've ever felt anything like this.

I broke eye contact, looking around the room. Canvases sat on easels and drawings and paintings alike lined the walls. I was half stunned by the beauty of the artwork around me. The other half of me was stunned that, just my luck, I'd stumbled into Klaus' studio.

Fuck me.

When I looked back up at him, I didn't have any trouble speaking or looking him in the eye, because I promised myself I wouldn't. Y/N Mikaelson may have been scared to death, but Y/N Y/L/N wasn't; she was a badass tribrid who wasn't afraid of anything.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude." He looked a little surprised when I spoke. Why, is an answer I don't have. "I wandered off by accident, just needed some air away from the crowd."

Klaus hummed and his lips upturned in a small, unexpected smile. "Yes, I quite understand that feeling." Oh my God, he's talking to me. He held his hand out. "I'm Klaus," he said, as if I, of all people especially, wouldn't know that.

I reluctantly shook his hand, hoping to God he wouldn't pick anything up with the contact but, luckily, even after I let his hand go, he looked the same. But I'd never know, I suppose; maybe he was just as good at pretending as I was.

"And you must be Y/N," he stated. I stood up straighter. "I've been expecting you."

What?

I controlled my breathing as I waited for his response.

"You're the person that saved the mother of my child yesterday." A large breath would've left me if it wasn't totally obvious. He turned around and started walking. "You snapped a brute's neck, and then," he spun back around, "you left her there with his dead body, knowing he could awaken any second." His tone was less soft now, more accusatory.

Finally, I thought. He was beginning to act like the man I've heard about.

So why was I still so surprised?

I squinted my eyes slightly. "No, actually," I corrected, "I knew he wouldn't wake up in the time it'd take for someone to get to her."

His voice was sardonic. "And how could you predict such a thing?"

Using magic, I itched to say, but instead I said, "Life experience," and left it at that. Klaus didn't look like he believed me, but you gotta admit, that's a quip any vampire would use.

He hummed again, but this time, it was less agreeing and more sarcastic. This definitely wasn't how I imagined this happening.

Even if he didn't believe me, he left it alone because, next thing you know, he's moved on from the topic with not even as little as a thank you for saving his pregnant werewolf.

"So you're a friend of Marcel's?" Well, the motherfucker can eavesdrop. He tilted his head slightly, almost as if he was interested, but I knew better than that, and I had a feeling he knew I knew that, too.

I kept it simple. "Yeah, I've known him for a while."

"Hmmmmmmm," he hummed longer before getting straight to the point, "And were you here, with him, in the entirety of knowing him? Because I heard your conversation with my brother and you look awfully familiar to me, as well." Oh, if I wasn't a vampire, I already know I'd be screwed because my heart would be beating rapidly right now.

He continued, "And I couldn't have seen you with Marcel because, according to your conversation with the saxophone player, you haven't been in New Orleans for a while." He's been watching me? "And I definitely did not see you with him in years prior because I did not even know he was alive."

I came to a mental block on what to say; I felt like I was on trial. But, like always, I tried to keep the storm brewing inside of me as exactly that: inside. On the outside, I was calm and collected, and knew what to say.

That calm and collected version of me walked forward so I wasn't backed into the wall, making myself look more confident than I actually felt at that moment. Klaus' brow raised again, like he expected me to cave in on myself, but I did the exact opposite and shrugged, suggesting, "You must have seen me around somewhere else, then. I've been alive a couple hundred years and, well, the vampire world is a smaller world than it's made out to be, isn't it?"

Klaus just blankly stared at me in response; not for too long, though, because eventually, just like with Elijah, I saw something pass through his eyes, but it was gone before I could even grasp it. His lips tilted into a fake smile as he agreed, "Yes, I suppose so." Lie.

We both stood there in silence for a few seconds before I cleared my throat. "Well, I better get going and make sure Marcel hasn't gotten into any trouble." I smiled, but he could probably tell just as well as I could that there wasn't any authenticity to it.

He nodded, and I couldn't have been out of that room faster. I didn't stop to look at the expression on his face, didn't stop to look at the artwork in the room or didn't even stop to think. I just walked as fast as I could and didn't stop, even when I reached the courtyard. I didn't stop until I was outside completely to even breathe.

Panic bubbled in my chest, but I stuffed it back down. I'd let my guard down mere minutes earlier and look it where it got me, in the same room, alone, with my father who I've never met.

Let's not forget that said meeting was caused by me running off from my uncle and the werewolf pregnant with my sibling.

What the actual fuck.

What's next, fucking grandma and grandpa come back from the grave? Would I be surprised at this point?

Why couldn't I have just stayed in New York? New York was simple; it was easy, it didn't require me to dig into my past or think about the family that was ignorant to my existence.

And now I'm here. I've met my father, something I've both dreamed and had nightmares about for my entire life. Half of me is content with having met him, but the other half wishes it never happened.

Tears welled in my eyes, but I blinked them away.

Don't you dare cry, Y/N. You cry later. You need to be strong right now.

I blinked faster until I didn't feel the wetness in my eyes anymore and exhaled before I walked back into the Abbatoir in search of Marcel. I didn't feel like meeting another family member right now, so I'd like to leave ASAP, actually.

I found him talking up a broad in the corner and made my way over to him. My mind went to Camille immediately, but I shook that thought off. Cami didn't know about all this stuff and, besides, her and Cellie weren't a thing so it didn't matter.

I stopped when I was right next to the blonde he was talking to and his eyes met mine. I didn't bother looking at the girl, instead giving Marcel a look that I hoped he was able to understand. "I'm heading out now. You coming or what?"

He opened his mouth like he was gonna answer one thing but closed it as if he thought different. "Uh, go without me," he mumbled over the music. "I'll see you tomorrow."

I nodded, leaning forward to kiss his cheek in goodbye. I waved. "See you then." And then I walked away, waiting until I was outside the slaughter house to speed to my house, not in the mood for a stroll through the Quarter.

The actions of me unlocking my door all the way to me undressing and falling into bed were a blur. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I felt the tears I'd been holding in leak out of my eyes.

The tears burned my skin like they were tiny shards of glass, my shoulders shaking like I was cold, but really I felt so hot that I could explode. The same way, even though I was crying like I was sad, I was actually angry.

I was so angry that this was what my life was like. I was so angry that I've never had family experiences. I was so angry that they'd all gotten a thousand years together and I was just thrown to the side. And it made me feel horrible that I was so angry about Klaus fathering another kid when he didn't even know about me.

I was so angry that I wished the tears running down my face were tiny shards of glass, 'cause maybe then the pain inside could've been drowned out by that.

As a vampire- hell, even as a werewolf, I could escape physical pain. But everything on the inside was still there. As hard as I tried to pretend, that girl on the inside that worried and whose heart raced- I could never escape her.

A sob left my lips at that thought.

And I cried until I couldn't cry anymore and fell asleep.

THIRD PERSON, EARLIER

Marcel stood with Rebekah in a corner of the Abbatoir, a hard expression on his face while she leaned against a pillar and crossed her arms. In his eyes, she turned against him, but in hers, she was putting her family first.

Putting her family first meant pulling him aside to scold him on why he'd attend a Mikaelson event, knowing he was on Klaus' hit list. To Rebekah, Marcel had a death wish.

But Marcel had pride, just like Niklaus, and even just like herself. And that pride that she had was perhaps the real reason why she'd pulled him aside in the first place: because of his human girlfriend.

To Marcel, Rebekah didn't give a damn about him, just like Klaus. So that's why, instead of flirting per usual, they instead stared at one another with uncertainty they couldn't see.

Breaking their stare-contest was a blonde that came over and called Marcel's name. Both of their heads whipped around, but the blonde's gaze was directed entirely at Marcel as if she were purposefully ignoring Rebekah, making her narrow her eyes.

As soon as the girl came over, she'd captured Marcel's attention completely. "I'm heading out now," she stated. "You coming or what?"

So they came together, Rebekah thought, as she analyzed the girl. Although she was blonde, she was not Camille. Who the hell is she?

But the longer she stared, the more questions she came up with, questions that steered away from Marcel entirely because Rebekah realized that this girl looked so oddly familiar.

Almost like herself.

Marcel glanced at his ex-girlfriend momentarily, as if remembering she was there, before looking back to the girl and muttering that she could go without him.

The girl nodded and kissed his cheek, forcing Rebekah's to tense. And without a single glance in her direction, she left.

The Mikaelson stared after her as she maneuvered through the crowd until she was no longer visible, turning to Marcel to see him already looking at her.

If she wasn't a thousand years old, perhaps she'd be blushing.

She smiled artificially like it didn't bother her, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. "And that was...?"

He scoffed. What gives her the right to act like we're together? He questioned to himself, but there was a long list of things he'd probably never say out loud to Rebekah. "That was a friend," he emphasized, "a friend who was there for me after you and your family left me to burn in the Opera House-"

She groaned, breaking her calm composure. "Bloody hell, Marcel, when are you going to let go of that one? I thought we were past it-"

"I'm not past anything." He gave her a steely glare, both of them silent for a moment before he fixed his blazer and spoke. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I actually have better things to be doing right now."

Rebekah resisted a scoff as he walked away from her, towards the crowd. She didn't understand him. God, he frustrated her almost just as much as Niklaus did.

With the thought of her brother, her mind drifted back to the woman that'd just left before Marcel did. She tried her best to reimagine her face in her mind. She was distracted, though, by Hayley coming up to her and talking to her about her brother. And just like that, the girl from earlier disappeared from Rebekah's mind completely.

But maybe, just maybe, if she'd thought about it a little longer, then she would have realized that the blonde talking to Marcel looked just like her. That she looked like her once best friend, Klaus' lover.

Maybe she would've realized that the girl was a Mikaelson.

#klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus x daughter!reader #tvdu #tvd #tvd fandom #angst #tvd fanfiction #elijah mikaelson #hayley marshall #klaus mikealson fanfiction #klaus mikaelson imagine #marcel gerard #rebekah mikaelson

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moodymisty · 6 months

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Chapter reactions to their Primarch's beloved [ part2 ]

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

[ Part 1, Part 3 ]

Author's Note: Another 4 of the 'Chapter reactions to their Primarch's lover' series I said I went too crazy with. I chose them at random, if you want any more feel free to say.

Relationships: Implied Lion'el Jonson/Gn!Reader, Implied Konrad Curze/Gn!Reader, Implied Vulkan/Gn!Reader, Implied Magnus the Red/Gn!Reader

Warnings: Some vague implications of the Night Lords being creepy little shits but tbh is that really surprising?

➧ Dark Angels:

Paranoid. You were actually kept a secret from most of the Legion apart from Lion'el's closest Commanders for quite awhile, until he made his decision to reveal the that The Lion of Caliban had taken a lover.

You can only assume he did all of it as another layer of his ever expanding list of contingency plans and secret keeping. You're quite familiar with his thought process at this point; At least what isn't also another secret.

They are, more than a bit confused as to why their Primarch has dedicated his time to such pursuits, but you suppose it all could be far worse.

Their 'upbringing' and Lion'el's inability to show pretty much any emotion has heavily affected their ability to do or understand anything that could be considered 'affectionate'. It just seems pointless to them.

They have a pompous aura, and an overall 'nose turned upward' attitude regarding you. Despite being their Primarch's beloved, you are seen as beneath them by nature of your existence. This could quite possibly change overtime however, depending on how much of an active role you take in Lion'el's legion.

However Lion'el's paranoia extends to his sons in force, and his men are hyper vigilant of you if you're ever put under their watch. They may not have the best attitude, but you couldn't be safer. Expect to basically be chained to one spot for periods of time. Figuratively. Maybe.

All of this makes interacting with them, difficult, but manageable. At least they don't want to murder you.

...As far as you know

➧ Night Lords:

Avoid every single one of them like your life depends on it, because it very much does. Becoming the object of Curze's obsession is probably the worst possible thing you could do for your overall life expectancy.

Because he pretty much brought a prey animal into den of slobbering wolves, being with you. As while Konrad may love you (at least as much as a man as troubled as him can) many of his sons see you as little more than a brand new thing to be toyed with.

While Heresy era Night Lords may be marginally less deranged than their 41st millennium counterparts, they still heavily enjoy instilling fear; Particularly to keep humans in line.

So they tend to circle around you like they're herding prey animals; Biting the air if you wander too far away from their Primarch's shadow.

There's really only a few that you 'trust' enough to be in their protection for more than few minutes. And while you might feel safe, there's always... Something off.

You can stand to be in the same room as Sevatar- given his more stalwart, repressed nature which makes him much easier to communicate with than the average Night Lord- but you don't like the way any of the Night Lords look at you. Even him.

There's always something deep within their dark eyes, or something behind their rare smiles. Being near them makes your neck tense, hair standing on end. Every single siren in your head screaming to run run run. It's like they're waiting for the moment Curze leaves you alone to take something they want.

You don't want to know what that something is.

➧ Salamanders:

The most sane of them all besides the Ultramarines and the White Scars. They treat you with respect and kindness, in that stunted, overly formal Space Marine way. You can tell they're trying, so it's kind of sweet, honestly.

Even from the moment that Vulkan first formally introduced you as his beloved, they always seemed to welcome you into the chapter, so to speak.

They're also helpful; For example given the sheer scale of the Flamewrought, you've been helped by them before when you found yourself horribly lost. Something Vulkan finds very amusing.

Overall, they are one of the few, if not the only chapter that would probably be actually somewhat, happy, to see their Primarch happy.

They see the way Vulkan softens whenever he looks at you, and know that those things are what they're fighting for.

Vulkan has spent years emphasizing the importance of protecting the Imperium and it's people, and it's paid off with a chapter that is not only of a somewhat normal disposition, but isn't completely fucking insane.

They'll keep you safe no matter what, as even without orders, they genuinely seem to care for your wellbeing.

Just keep your new sons away from the lighter fluid, ok?

➧ Thousand Sons:

Many of them disapprove of Magnus going down such a path, seeing it as unimportant in the grand scheme of things, but when they see how Magnus is absolutely stupid in love with you and will not hesitate to scold dissent on the matter, they end up having to stay largely quiet about it.

No matter how much they may object at the end of the day, Magnus won't budge; So they have to just learn to accept it. Afterall, Magnus had made it very clear you aren't going anywhere.

While they perhaps might not be as overtly as pompous as the Dark Angels, for awhile they won't be much more than amicable to you.

As their Primarch's beloved, they will be more than ready to protect you if need be, and while at first it might simply be because their Primarch has ordered them to, overtime they do warm up a bit. You can smile at them and watch them hone their skills, and they begin to see why Magnus likes you so.

Just don't finger up the tomes, and you both can coexist.

#lion'el jonson x reader #magnus the red x reader #vulkan x reader #konrad curze x reader #primarch x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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lawqual1ty · 6 months

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Why...? (College AU! Trafalgar Law x Gn! Reader)

Pov: Hanging out with some of your mutual friends results in you having a new doubt that racks your brain for a bit... Unfortunately (or not) thanks to a twist in fate you end up having to be attended by your roommate where finally your questions are answered...

I got the idea thanks to me actually going through the same thing rn

This is a part 2 following the story line of this fic! Since so many people seemed to want more and who am I to say no?

Warning: Sort of angsty (I was feeling sad sorry), Hurt to comfort, Migraine, curse words

"Say what now...?" You stopped stirring your coffee with your straw as you looked flabbergasted at the two guys sitting in front of you.

Sachi and Penguin nodded as they looked at you with a same level of shock while Bepo just seemed a tad bit confused by the situation, although judging by his worried eyes it was pretty serious.

"Yeah... He never lets anyone hang around him when he's studying..." Sachi started, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Or worse let them touch him..." Penguin added with a small sweat drop rolling down his temple.

Your brain took an awkwardly long time to process everything... You kept going back and forth between their words and the memories you had shared with Law during these two years that you had been roommates. Something didn't seem right, although yeah he wasn't the warmest or openest guy in the universe he was never very shut off to you... Going from casual hang outs while you two studied to you sometimes helping him out with caring for his tattoos after the previous shirtless incident (you grew used to seeing him bare chested as he began asking you for help with placing some hydrating creams or sunscreen on his back tattoo). Silence surrounded the three of you as you slowly narrowed your eyes in almost a comedic manner.

"You're lying..."

"WE'RE NOT!"

They yelped making both you and Bepo flinch with wide eyes as the poor bear started apologizing profusely while you patted him on the back, he could be quite the fragile guy sometimes, although it was adorable. You looked back at Sachi and Penguin with a confused look.

"But then... Why is it different with me? I guess it's because I'm his roommate right...?" You were reasoning more with yourself than with the two males, you turned your head over to Bepo with a furrowed expression "He's your best friend right? He must let you do that same stuff because he trusts ya'..."

Bepo looked over at you for a minute before gently shaking his head "Not one bit..." His demeanor then turned apologetic as you flinched at his words "Sorry"

You couldn't help but sigh as you kept gently stroking his back "Don't be..."

"That's what we're telling you! It's super rare..." Penguin started out as he tapped his fingers on the table only making you grunt further as you squeezed your eyes shut "There's something weird going on here... Maybe something..."

Although you had your eyes closed you could sense how both Sachi and Penguin looked over at each other with a creepy blushing face, the faintest scent of blood coming out of their nostrils making you sigh deeply "Don't..."

They gently stopped although you had a feeling that the idea of it being because of "something else" never left their mind as they started giggling on their own. You rubbed the temple of your nose as you tried to process everything, the mere idea of what you considered to be normal in Law now being rare raised so much questions which, based on your previous experience, know they were going to go unanswered...

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

One thing to know about having Law as your roommate is that he usually kept a lot of fitness stuff around, being a medicine student he cares a lot about his health together with yours so it wasn't unusual to find some stuff organized to the side of the room where he usually worked out when he had time. You occasionally used some of the equipment since he convinced you to... Much to your complaints, but it's something you have slowly gotten used to.

One of these mechanisms was a bar that was placed at the top of the door frame that lef to the kitchen, it should be perfectly safe if it wasn't for the fact that well it wasn't screwed onto the door... It just was placed there, it had never given you much of a problem until today.

You just got back to your dorm with an exhausted sigh, you kept on pondering about the conversation you just you had with Sachi and Penguin... A confused glint in your eyes as you processed their words about you and Law... You had never seen his behavior as unusual so for them to say it's rare out of the blue sure caught you off guard. You dropped your keys on the key bowl (as you liked to call it) with a loud exhale, the sound of the keys clanking being a clear signal that you could finally relax... Or well...

"I need to study..." You muttered to yourself with a soft grunt, you never got to really catch a break... And honestly it was nerve-wracking...

You walked towards the kitchen to get something to snack on while you studied hoping the small treat would keep your sleepless ass awake in some way shape or form, you were in a pretty grumpy mood so you didn't pay much mind at your surroundings as you leaned a hand on the door frame.

Out of nowhere you heard a loud thud and felt your mind go numb for a moment... You froze, not out of shock but rather because you couldn't move, your body didn't seem to respond at all... You looked at the ground and saw what had produced the loud thud, it was the weird bar thing on top of the kitchen door. As soon as you gained consciousness you started to feel a sharp pain at the top of your head, your vision began to get blurry with tears as the pain was changed from a sharp sting to a numbing rumble that made you dizzy, you didn't want to move at all... Finally everything clicked in your brain: The bar had fallen on your head.

You didn't yelp, you didn't move... You just... stood there trying your fucking hardest to keep yourself a foot, luckily you weren't alone at the time... A loud pair of footsteps came running over to you, Law had heard the loud thud and made its way to you in an instant, you raised your eyesight to meet his... Your eyes blurring with tears as the pain turned into a sharp migraine.

"Ouch..." Those were the only words you could utter as you tried your best to chuckle so that the scene didn't look all that bad, unfortunately for you Law had never been one to fall for your strong acts... If anything he grunted as he gently approached you and with a steady hand touched your head gently, the sudden contact made you jolt away, or well as best as you could in your state, as his skin felt weird against yours... That was never a good sign. He silently looked at you with a stern expression as he analyzed the scene.

"Did the bar fall on you?" His words came out in a concerned yet gentle tone. You nodded, words didn't come out of your mouth and if they did they were a muttering mess, he frowned.

"Do you feel like puking?" You shook your head

"I just..." You paused for a bit, the mere fact of taking seeming like a struggle "Migraine..." You spoke as best as you could, he gently took your arm and guided you to the table for you to sit down "Just stay here... I'll go get something"

He headed off and before you realized he was gone he brought a pill with him together with some water and an ice pack, he offered you the pill and you silently took it... The act of kindness made your tears start to roll down your cheeks in rivers and rivers of salty water, why were you being so sensitive? Was it because of the strike? You had no clue, you just placed the pill in your mouth and washed it down with the water, you suddenly felt a ting of coldness at the top of your head finding yourself with Law who stood really close to you as he placed the ice pack on the spot the bar had fallen on you "This should calm down the pain..." He spoke gently as he looked at you with a furrowed expression, your eyes never left him as a comfortable silence surrounded the two of you... The pain was still there but it was no longer unbearable, the one thing that was a bit annoying to you was how much you were crying... Your mind was racing, going between being completely blank and drowned in pain to being fully covered in weird thoughts about you wanting for Law to stop caring for you that much... Why would he do such a thing? Oh right he's a medicine student... This is normal work for him right? Right...? Then why did it hurt...? You hated feeling vulnerable... You got back to blank thoughts as you played with the glass of water and took a few sips. A caring hand took you out of your trance as it wiped a few of your tears away, gently squeezing your cheeks as it did so... You turned to face the one responsible for such gentle care, finding yourself with those grey eyes that confused you so much... They somehow looked so much... Warmer than usual, almost as if you were a delicate piece of pottery that he really appreciated and wanted to fix as best as he could without breaking it further, you couldn't help but cry more.

"Why...?" You muttered catching his attention

"Huh...?"

Your lips started trembling, the words not coming out of your mouth as you kept crying.

"Why... Are you so nice to me...?" Your words came out in shaky breaths, your lips trembling as you started crying even more than before... A sense of fear surrounding you as you waited for his answer in between whimpers and hiccups, his eyes widened at your question, you were never one to go ask this kind of stuff and it was rare seeing you in this state. He sighed deeply as he kept his hand on your head with an ice pack.

"You remember when you asked me how I was single...?" He looked away as he spoke, you were surprised... You thought he would have forgotten about that moment but it seems it made quite the impact on him, much to your luck, You just nodded... He took a deep breath before continuing. "Well... It's mainly because I never found a reason for me to be nice to others... Some people could be nerve-wracking in my opinion so I just never thought much of actually dating someone..."

You listened to him attentively as you saw the faintest hint of a smile on his lips, almost as if remembering this amused him, he paused for a moment... His eyes gently closed shut as he thought about his next words and actions, he slowly fluttered them open and looked at you in the eyes but there was something... Different in his gaze... You noticed a small hint of warmth behind those cold grey eyes, it was odd, you assumed your brain was starting to hallucinate thanks to the hard hit from the bar but you had a gut feeling it wasn't the case...

He parted his lips to speak once more, his breathing soft as he looked at you "But then you came... And... Although you were pretty irritating at first I got to enjoy your presence..." He chuckled ever so slightly "I even got worried about you whenever you... Got hurt..."

Your eyes started watering even more... He wasn't usually the one to talk so for him to be so open about it all was... New... It was almost as if he had rehearsed this a thousand times before he talked to you but didn't feel ready until he saw you so vulnerable and felt obliged to do so... To finally open up, to finally show himself bare to you. He took another deep yet shaky breath, he seemed to get even more nervous the more he spoke... Like there was a truth behind his words that he wasn't quite ready to admit, a level of fear that covered his heart as he laid it bare with doubt.

"I just... Didn't want to lose you..." He spoke gently, a soft tear drop rolling down his cheek as he looked away into the distance... Your eyes widened in shock.

"You have... Lost someone already haven't you...?"

Silence...

He looked at the ground and you regretted your words immediately.

"I'm sorry..."

"I did..." He looked back at you "That's why I acted like a coward in front of you... Always caring but never..."

He stopped in his tracks, his words getting stuck in his throat, you felt a sharp sting in your heart as you looked at him... Something in your gut told you he felt the same way as he saw you get hurt and cry... Your shaky lips parted slightly.

"Is that... Why you're so kind to me...?" You looked up at him "Because you're scared...?"

He chuckled gently "Not just because of that..." He admitted with a soft yet sad smile "You have a knack of getting into people's hearts... And unfortunately I was no exception..."

He gently turned to face you with a warm smile, you must be hallucinating already... There was no way he was smiling to you that way... Was there...?

"I fell for you, Y/N..." His words struck your heart strings, if you could move you would have jolted up but you were still kinda numb thanks to your headache... All you could do was stare in disbelief. There were no formalities in his words, his usual '-ya' was not added at the end of your name... Making it all the more... Close... You felt your heart beat rapidly.

Slowly but steadily your lips started shaking even more as you felt like crying your whole heart out, trying your best to hold it in you bit your lower lip as you let out a few hiccups and whimpers... But alas you weren't that strong... You bawled your eyes out as Law stared at you warmly... He froze for a moment not really knowing how to proceed, with a hesitant hand he pulled you closer to him letting you rest your head on his shoulder as you cried everything you had inside...

"It's okay... I'll stay with you..." He spoke gently as he stroked your back lovingly, now his touch didn't feel so foreign in your skin...

He loved you... He really did...

And you loved him...

Hell...

You loved each other...

You kept crying on his shoulder for what felt like an eternity, snot and tears ruining his hoodie as you kept trying your best to compose yourself... You wanted to talk... You wanted to yell out to him that you loved him too, you really did... But your headache didn't allow you to do so... You only had the strength to cry, not that Law minded at all... He loved being your pillar of support.

You sniffled as your crying came to a stop (at least for a bit) slowly incorporating yourself, the gentle taps of Law's hands on your back giving you a level of reassurance that made you be able to ground yourself...

"I..." You started out gently "I have fallen for you too, Law... Heck I think I did for longer..." You started chuckling nervously as your hand tried to clumsily dry up your cheeks, to no avail "But I... I was a coward... Fuck... Still am!"

You admitted with a sort of bright smile, Law looked at you with wide eyes before chuckling gently... You almost started blabbering your thoughts, unlike him you didn't take much time to think what you were going to say... You just spoke your heart out, and right now it turned out even messier than usual thanks to your dizzy brain... He rolled his eyes with an amused smile, not that you could notice in between your rambles, and then leaned closer to you...

Silence once more surrounded the two of you as he made you freeze... Not with a glare... Not with words... But with the gentle graze of his lips on yours.

You felt like crying again...

You didn't move... You just drowned in the feeling of his warmth against you... His lips stroking yours in a gentle and loving kiss that none of you realized how much you needed it until it happened... All your emotions, your truth, your hearts... Laid there, bare, a show of love and acceptance for only the two of you to witness...

You gently closed your eyes as the kiss dragged out for longer. He slowly pulled away and smiled at you with a hint of red in his cheeks.

"Did I answer your question now?" He asked with a playful tone, you froze for a moment only to laugh, he sure liked being sarcastic even in moments like these huh? You hugged him by the neck, a soft smile grazing your lips...

"You sure did..."

#trafalgar law #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece fic #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar law x reader #one piece fluff #one piece angst #one piece au #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgardwaterlaw #one piece scenario

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bucked-it-up · 13 days

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BuckTommy Fluff & Angst 764 words

Buck got home in the late evening, tired after a long shift of back-to-back calls with seemingly no break. He was dead on his feet, ready to maybe eat and then get straight into bed. His mind was spinning, thinking about anything and everything that he could stress about, no matter how small. Did he say something wrong to a patient? Maybe the facial expression from another firefighter meant he had done wrong? So many trivial things that he couldn't quiet.

As he stepped through the door fiddling with his keys, he realised that someone else was in the loft. He could smell food, hear movement. He looked up and saw Tommy in the kitchen, humming to himself, moving around to different pots on the stove. He looked happy. Comfy. Like he belonged.

"Evan!" Buck was startled out of his daze. "Come sit, dinner will be soon."

Buck finished taking his coat off and put his bag aside. Walking over to the table he still had thoughts spiralling through his head but maybe they were quieter. He pulled out a chair and sat down. Tommy had already laid the table and Buck was just sort of staring at it. So often he had cooked for someone else to come home, he had set the table, greeted them. It was odd to be on the other side. Why had he never been on this side? Was it something he had done? What was different now that allowed this?

His thought process was interrupted with a plate being put down in front of him and a soft "Evan?"

He looked up and saw Tommy's face painted in concern, he could see all the layers to it. Nerves. Sadness. Anger. Disappointment? Why was there disappointment? What had he done? Before he could spiral again, he felt a hand on his arm, he felt like he had been pulled back into the present.

"Evan, I'm worried." There was that concern again. "You've barely said anything, since you came in. What's going on?"

Buck could feel his heartbeat faster, his chest gets tighter, breathing felt like a chore. His words didn't want to come out. What if he ruined this? What if telling Tommy scared him away? What- Oh.

Arms had wrapped around him, his face pressed into something warm. "You don’t have to say anything now, Evan but I am here. I am not going anywhere."

Buck felt a release. It was like everything that had happened that and before came crashing through him, fighting to find a way out. The way that it found was tears, tears that never felt like they would end. Tears that also felt freeing. He felt like his mind was pushing itself through the fog, away from the spiral down.

He pulled back away from Tommy, looking at his face wanting to see what he would fine. Maybe a part of it was the spiral looming wanting to reach out, call to him, bring him back into its slippery slope. All Buck could see was Love, made with layers of concern, nerves, sadness, anger, disappointment.

"Today was hard." He finally got out. It was small and quiet but also so loud. It felt so powerful to admit that. It was another step away from the panicked questions, from the alluring spiral. "I'm so grateful for you."

Tommy's face softened; his arms moved so that one was on Buck's face. He leaned down and caught Buck's lips in a soft kiss. "Let's eat, you need it."

Tommy moved from where he was crouching at Bucks chair, to opposite him and sat. Buck lifted his fork, filled with food, to his mouth and when he had a taste all he could think was how it felt like home. Like warmth. Like comfort.

Buck and Tommy while a rocky start to the evening were able to then have a peaceful time. They ate food, watched TV pressed against each other, sharing kisses and love. They made it to bed, under the covers, skin against skin.

"Today was hard." Buck began, loud in the quietness. "I couldn't rest, all I could think were these questions that kept making me second guess everything. I couldn't stop. It felt relentless."

Tommy brought an arm over Buck's waist, pressing small kisses against Buck's neck and shoulders. "But you helped. You helped me step away, helped me stop. I love you."

There was another small kiss to his neck before Tommy replied, "I love you too, Evan. Anytime, I will be here for you anytime. Like you are for me."

#brain decided to project my anxiety onto buck #hope you like #bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #911 abc #winnie rambles

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hangmanssunnies · 2 years

Text

Inconceivable!

Summary: No one tells you how hard it is to have to plan to leave and hurt the love of your life. However, when you know you want different things, you must choose. And your baby is probably the only thing you can ever imagine choosing over Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw.

Pairings: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem! Reader

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick

Word count: 8.2k words

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, fertility problems, panic attacks, Angst with a happy ending, threatening to break Brad's heart, so many references to The Princess Bride,Soft!smut, Soft!Bradley, Organized!Bradley. Let me know if I missed any others.

Authors Note: No use of Y/N. As always, I love BradBrad so much y'all. I don't know if I can write nonangsty smut. I was thinking of him and kids. The next thing you know I wrote whatever this is. Bradley wearing glasses 🥵. I hope you enjoy this! My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are always appreciated as well! I love reading through them.

You knew Bradley never wanted to be a father, which was just fine with you because you knew you couldn't have kids. You had known about your fertility problems for a long time and had long ago come to peace with it.

Y'all had several conversations about children when you first started dating. Once you both felt like your feelings on the matter were hashed out, you had never really felt like revisiting the topic. Your life wasn't less or empty without kids. You were perfectly content with the life you and Rooster had made together.

That's why you have no idea what to do with the situation you are in right now. You were at your gynecologist for your annual check-up. Taking a pregnancy test was standard procedure, something you didn't even bat your eyes about or worry over. What you weren't prepared for was the positive results back.

"I'm sorry?" You choked out in disbelief. "That can't be possible."

"I know this is probably surprising, but," your doctor starts to say before you cut them off.

"No. No, I have known since I was 17 that I can't get pregnant."

"Well, you are and can. Sometimes miracles like this can happen," your doctor responded kindly.

She went on to ramble more and talk about some next steps and options. You felt shocked, not entirely sure how to process the information she was throwing your way. You left the office a bit later, promising to set up a follow-up appointment.

Your first thought was to get an abortion. It was the obvious solution. Bradley didn't want kids, and you hadn't wanted them either. Right? You tried to think if it was true. Was it that you didn't want kids or just that you couldn't have kids?

For the next week, you tried to run the pros and cons and sort out your feelings on what was happening. You tried to act as normal as possible with Bradley. You didn't want to bring anything up until you knew how you felt.

Part of you kept coming back to when you were a little girl to how growing up before you knew that you couldn't have kids, the promise you would whisper to yourself. The promise of how you would do better than your own parents did.

You thought of the fantasies you used to have: the baby shoes, baking in the kitchen guiding a tiny pair of hands, sports practices, matching sweaters for family holiday cards, first recitals, proms and homecomings, dropping them off for their first day of college, and parent's weekends where you buy cheap booze, family trips, the possibilities of grandkids.

Now suddenly, all those fantasies were a possibility again. A reality that could come true in less than a year. Thinking about them brought an ache to your chest. An ache that manifested as want, a desire so strong all the cons you could come up with didn't really matter, well, all of them but one.

The biggest problem of the puzzle was Bradley, the love of your life. You had absolutely no doubt that he would do the right thing and stay by your side. However, you didn't want him to be a dad because he had to do it. The thought of him being forced to do something he didn't want to, just because it's the right thing, made your stomach roll. The idea of part of him resenting you, and eventually your child too, because of something you chose. That was something you couldn't live with.

So even though you felt a heavy hurt in your chest, you knew you had to leave Bradley. You weighed that heartbreak compared to the want for this child that had bloomed in your chest, and one outweighed the other. So now, on top of thinking about the baby, you started to think through quiet plans of how it would hurt your husband least to leave him.

You almost broke down one night and told him the two of you had been lying on the couch together. Bradley was casually spooning you from behind, one of his hands playing with a lock of hair while the movie he picked played on the TV. Of course, it was the Princess Bride, one of his all-time favorites.

You were half watching the movie, half dozing. Bradley was too good at soothing you, and you had started noticing a significant change in your energy levels as of late. You mentally made a note to bring it up at the follow-up doctor's appointment you had scheduled.

"I would do that," Bradley suddenly says, bringing you back to alertness.

"Oh really?" you hum, unsure what he was talking about.

"Yes, I would wait five years and chase after kidnappers, fight the prince, build a tolerance to poison, all for you, baby."

Bradley's honest love for you warmed your chest like it always did. However, the current circumstances turned that warmth into a bitter aftertaste in the back of your throat. What you were doing haunted you. His hand drops your hair and traces down your arm until he threads your fingers together. His large hand in yours helped further break down your resolve.

"What if I asked you to do something you didn't want to?" You ask him hesitantly.

"If you wanted me to, then I would," Brad tells you plainly. As if that were a given, you should just expect that his desires would line up with yours. It doesn't put you at ease like you were hoping it would.

"What if it was something you really didn't want to. Something bigger than sword fights and rodents of unusual size?"

His hand flexes squeezing yours a little tighter. Bradley doesn't say anything for a moment, and you wait with bated breath. Finally, he nuzzles your neck with his nose before asking, "Do you have something specific in mind?"

That was the moment, the moment that you could come clean to him. You could be honest and lay it all out on the table, but you don't. You can't. You aren't ready to let him go yet; it's too soon, you tell yourself.

So you lie to him, finally pushing the words out your throat, "No, nothing specific. Just asking."

Bradley's fingers that are laced with yours squeeze yours again, and you have the sneaking suspicion that he doesn't believe your lie. "Well, even if it was big. We would do what we always do. We'll talk about it and figure it out. Then I'll agree with what you want, just like I always do."

"You shouldn't do things you don't want to do just for me, Brad," you chastise him lightly. The heavy pit in your chest constricts even more.

He kisses your head, pulling you a little tighter against him in his embrace. "Sure, whatever you say, babe."

The whole thing sits with you for another week, and the doctor's appointment you made starts to creep closer. You are reading an article in incognito mode on your phone about nutrition during pregnancy and the importance of vitamins. Occasionally, you glance up to see Bradley sitting on the other side of the couch.

He has a thick World War Two biography book wide open, nearing the end. His reading glasses are perched on the edge of his nose. Even though you had teased Brad relentlessly when he first got them, the glasses were actually really hot. The sight of them on him now makes heat start to bud in the bottom of your abdomen.

You lock your phone and set it aside, looking more thoroughly at Bradley now. He was so so very handsome. You found it unlikely there would ever be another man you would allow into your bed after him. The edges of panic that seep into you every time you consider the inevitable end with Bradley makes a reappearance. You push it to the side as much as possible, but it creates a sudden desperation for him in you.

"Bradley."

"Yes, my love?" He asks, not looking up from the page in front of him.

"I need something."

"What do you need?" He turns the page of his book and pushes those damn glasses higher up the bridge of his nose.

"I need you," you tell him, biting your lip.

His eyes snap up from the page to look at you, and his eyebrows raise, processing your words. "What was that?"

"I need you to make love to me, Brad. I'm on fire."

He dog ears the page he is on his book and sets it on the coffee table, turning to give you his full attention. His hands casually trace up your leg, massaging the tense muscles of your claves.

You let out a soft sigh at the feeling. A few moments later, Bradley crawls up your body, pressing soft kisses to your neck and then melding his lips to yours. You sigh into his mouth, enjoying the taste of him, trying to savor it. You pull off his reading glasses so they aren't in the way, haphazardly tossing them away.

When he starts to pull away, you wrap your arms around him, drawing him closer, not wanting any space between you. You trace one of your hands down his neck and under the collar of his shirt, tracing his shoulders, kissing him harder, slipping your tongue into his mouth.

"What has got you so needy, sweet girl?" He asks you, confused, pressing a few soft sweet kisses to your throat.

"Just you, handsome man," you tell him, trying to draw Bradley back to your lips. Bradley smiles, hearing your words but then shifts off you and the couch.

Before you can protest at his absence, he goes to pick you up. Like every time Bradley picks you up, you are hit with the worry that it will be the time he can't do it, or he will drop you, make heaving grunting sounds, or some other terrible mishap will come to pass. It doesn't, though; he secures you in his arms and starts to carry you through the house to your room.

You start pressing kisses to the readily presented column of his neck then. When he reaches your bed and goes to put you down, you sink your teeth into the space where his neck starts to curve into his shoulder. Although he lets out a hiss, you hadn't held back with the bite. You made it intending to mark him.

When he does set you down, you scramble hurriedly to start undressing him, desperate to see and feel the expanses of his golden skin. Unfortunately, you only get Brad out of his teeshirt before he stops you. His large hands close around your wrists, holding them tight, preventing them from moving further down, lower than the top of his abdomen.

"Slow down, pretty girl. We got all the time in the world," he says. You know, he said it to be soothing, but he didn't know how wrong he was. He didn't understand the finite amount of time you had left together.

So when he lets go of your wrist, you instead start to pull off your own clothes and settle yourself on the bed. You stare at him expectantly and let out the smallest huff.

"Slow down." He tells you again, "And, don't move your hands off the headboard," When he is satisfied with how you are holding it, he starts to kiss down your body.

"Why are you so worried?" he breaths out against your inner thigh, pressing feather-light kisses to the skin there. "You know I'm going to take care of you, my love. I always do. There's no reason to be so worried."

Bradley's words manage to hit the exact spot of comfort you are actually needing. Even though you are planning on leaving him. You still want him to take care of you; you want to do this with him. But, you also know that can't happen. So, regardless you feel more at ease; the desperation in you is not quite so hot, not making you jittery with need.

Bradley rewards the way your body relaxes by licking stripe over you. You resist the urge to let go of the headboard and bury your hands in Bradley's thick hair. The way he sucks your clit into his mouth to roll his tongue over makes you arch, needing more. Bradley lays his arm across your hips, applying pressure to keep you still under him.

The more you work to struggle against his arm, feeling your high edge closer and closer, a thought suddenly pops into your head. Is it still okay for Bradley to hold you down like this? Are you going to hurt your baby? It's an irrational thought, you know that, but your body instantly reacts to it. Of course, so early into your pregnancy, there is no reason this would be a problem, but you still drop your hips down onto the bed, no longer trying to move them against him. Your distraction pulled you far back from the edge.

You try to focus on the feel of Bradley's tongue and how warm he feels with his shoulders caged between your thighs. But only a few breaths later, Bradley is lifting his head to look at you.

He has a crease between his eyebrows, and his tongue that was just around you darts out to lick to own lips. "What just stopped you from coming?" he asks, concerned. His voice is thick and low. His hold over your waist disappears as he draws soothing circles on your hip. Bradley's concern draws you back to him and into the want you have for him.

You let go of the headboard and stretch out your arms. Then, burying your hands in his hair, you tilt Brad's face to fully meet your eyes.

"Make love to me, Bradley," you beg him. He stares at you for a very long minute, and you stare back at him, waiting. Finally, he pulls his eyes away from yours and stares at your center in front of him.

"As you wish," he mutters the words. Rooster pulls himself off the bed and pulls his sweats off. You drag your eyes over his naked body, taking him all in. You lick your lips at the sight.

"You are breathtaking, Brad," you tell him. That smile that melts your heart shows up on his face, and he glows under your praise.

You crawl to the edge of the bed and trace your hands up his muscular thighs. You guide your hand upwards. You brush over his cock, not really giving it any attention, before outlining his side, watching his stomach and abs contract under your fingers. You go slowly, trying to memorize the feel of his skin under you. You kiss along his chest too.

He leans down and captures your lips. You kiss Rooster back, glad that the fervor has left your body, but you are no less desperate for him. The desire to memorize him doesn't go.

You urge him onto the bed, pushing him on his back. You straddle Bradley, settling over him, with his cock nestled in between your lower lips. You give a small rock, his head bumping into your clit. You moan a little and repeat the motion.

Leaning forward, you rest your hands on his chest to give you more leverage. Rooster moves his hips with you increasing the friction. The pace is slow and almost teasing for both of you.

Shifting your weight, you lean and kiss him again. Bradley's tongue slips into your mouth, running against yours. One of his hands comes up and rests on your hip, urging you, pulling you further down to rub against him harder. His other hand cups one of your breasts, his thumb running over your nipple in swirling strokes.

You break his embrace just to reach your hand and guide him inside. Bradley lets out a heavy sigh as he slips into you. You resist the urge to slide all the way down his length, keeping it slow.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he tells you, biting his lips.

"Love how you fill me, Brad," you sigh once he is fully hilted. Both of you are breathing more elevated. When you start to move your hips again, Bradley closes his eyes and presses his head back into the bed.

You immediately stop moving, glaring down at him. "No," you say, and his eyes open instantly, looking at you again. You reach up a hand to grip his chin affectionately, holding his face in place. "I need to see you."

"You are so beautiful," he tells you. Bradley does as you want and doesn't break eye contact again.

The room is filled with both of your moanings as you work together at a slow, steady pace. The way his hands run along your skin and back is almost reverent. The heat in you starts to build again. You grind down hard onto Bradley so that your clit gets more stimulation.

Rooster's right hand comes around and settles on your lower stomach, applying pressure and letting his thumb dip down to brush your clit in light strokes. You gasp, a moan breaking from your throat. You freeze on top of Bradley's cock, enjoying the zing his thumb just sent up your spine.

"That's right. So good." Bradley moans out, pressing his thumb harder into you. Even though he is filling you so deliciously, you don't feel close enough to him. You feel like you want to crawl into his skin. That would be the only thing that would satisfy your need for him.

You grab his hand that isn't on your clit and thread your fingers together. His hand grips yours back. Bradley doesn't make any movement to shift either of your hips, content to play with your clit and stare into your eyes.

"Fuck, I love you." Bradley groans out, biting his lower lip. You start to rock your hips into his again, but for the most part, keeping him fully hilted inside you. You almost feel like you are drowning in his eyes with how he looks up at you. His heavy-lidded gaze makes you clench around him.

Your moans and quiet pants mix with his. The tension in you grows as you swirl your hips into his.

"Need this, need you." Bradley swirls his thumb a little harder and does break eye contact to nip your neck, sitting more up on the bed to get a better angle. Having more of your skin pressed together helps ease more of the ache in you.

You grip his hair again, pulling him up, shifting, so you are chest to chest. Bradley's free hand clutches you close to him. You trace the scars on his cheek with your lips before kissing him again.

"I love you," you sigh against his mouth. He groans and rocks his hips into yours, creating a bit more friction. Rooster understands just what you need, not pulling out of you.

The two of you build a rhythm together; finally, you can't hold back anymore. The bubble in you bursts, and you clench hard around Bradey's cock. Bradley takes a few more gasping breaths and then cums in you with a low moan. Bradley starts to move like he is going to pull out of you, so you whine and hold him closer.

"No, no. I need you closer," you tell him. You are still desperate to have him near. You press your nose into Rooster's neck, breathing in his natural musky scent. Trying to absorb the smell entirely, memorizing it before biting the skin and tasting it.

"Woah. Woah," Bradley says breathily. You let out a low hum in response, trying to savor his sounds as well. You wiggle your hips against him again, where he is still half hard. You consciously clench around his dick, reminding yourself how full Bradley makes you.

"Baby, stop," he says. Rooster's voice is wrecked, and his large hands hold your hips still. At first, you don't even hear his request until he repeats it more forcefully. Then he rolls you over onto your back and pulls out of you quickly. You gasp at the sudden loss of him. You have to lay there for a moment, trying to reorient yourself. Bradley is sitting on the edge of the bed, panting hard, his hands on his knees.

"Bradley?" You croak out, reaching a hand hesitantly towards him. He looks back at you, and his face is a mix of panicked and furious.

"What the fuck was that?" He asks you in a low growl.

"What was what?"

"Don't bullshit me."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," you tell him, drawing your eyebrows close together.

"That was was goodbye sex," he says slowly. Your mouth drops open, and you try to reach around your rattling brain to come up with an answer, an excuse. However, you find it completely empty.

"That was the exact kind of sex we have before I leave and deploy. You had the same look." Bradley was almost shaking, and you had no idea what to say that wouldn't be a lie.

"What's going on? Something has been wrong for weeks. I keep waiting for you to talk to me, and you fucking haven't."

"I —" you start to say, but Bradley's eyes are so captivating, so genuine, you can't lie to him. So before you even know what you are saying, the words fall out of your mouth, "I'm leaving."

Rooster physically recoils at your words. The line of his back is taut, and his eyebrows draw together. His mouth presses into a tight line. His jaw flexing, and you can tell he is clenching his teeth. "What did I do wrong?"

"No, sweetie," you say quickly. "It's not you. It's me." You tell him gently. It was you, well, you and this baby, but Brad didn't need to know that. Your words only seemed to make him more upset.

"Are you kidding me? You didn't just say that." He mutters it under his breath, pulling at his short curls in frustration and glaring at you. He is so tense the veins in his bicep and neck start to pop.

"I'm sorry," you offer him quietly.

"I don't want to hear sorry. I want to hear a reason. Were you going to tell me? Or just planning to disappear?"

"Of course, I was going to tell you."

"When?"

"Soon."

"Why? "

"I can't..."

"No. I think I deserve to know why the love of my life is leaving me," Bradley says, frustrated. He stands up from bed, goes to his drawers, and pulls on some boxers to throw on. He also grabs one of his old Sigma Pi shirts out of his drawer and throws it for you to shrug on.

You felt shame and frustration building in you. You didn't want to deal with this situation right now. You didn't want to have to tell Bradley why. Then to your absolute horror, and probably the hormones coursing through you, you burst into tears.

Bradley's pacing halts for a moment at the sight of your tears, but then he resumes momentarily as he balls his fist tight. His knuckles turning a paler shade.

"We want different things." You gasp out between the sobs racking your body.

"We want different things," he repeats slowly, like he is trying to piece out some hidden meaning in the words.

"Yes," you hiccup nodding your head.

"How could that be possible?" He questions you sharply. "If that were the case, we wouldn't have gotten married. And you didn't mention anything when we had our last relationship check-in."

Bradley was big on communication. He insisted y'all have seasonal relationship check-ins with each other to talk about anything that had happened and how you were feeling about your relationship. This conversation should have probably been reserved for the next one, but you couldn't wait a few more weeks before leaving, or Bradley would know.

You were going to start showing at some point; while all the articles you read were inconsistent about when that might happen, it would happen eventually. You knew it would probably be impossible to leave Rooster if he knew that you were pregnant. Every moment with him weakened your resolve to do the right thing.

"Things change, people change." You weakly tell him. Not able to conceive a better excuse.

"I don't understand why you are jumping into leaving me. Baby, why won't you talk to me?" Bradley suddenly dropped hard to his knees on the wood floor at the side of the bed. You winced at the sound it made. He pulls one of your hands into both of his. "Please talk to me," he begs you, holding your hand delicately in his. The puppy dog look Bradley has mastered coming out in full force.

"I can't…"

"You can," he reassures you, swiping a thumb across your pulse point. You felt your stomach roll, the emotions in you going haywire.

"I'm…" you trail off and then shake your head at him in denial of this situation. As soon as you tell Bradley, it will be over.

"It's okay, baby. Anything. You can tell me anything. Talk to me. I won't be mad," he adds on for your benefit. Your plans all crumbled at that moment because how can you deny Bradley Bradshaw anything when he begs for it.

"I'm pregnant," you finally whisper in a barely audible voice. With how Bradley reacted to your words, you might as well have screamed them. First, he flinches like a whole body flinch. Every muscle you can see tensing. He shutters and his grip on your hand tightens to where it is almost painful.

Bradley freezes like that for a moment, blinking at you owlishly, before he drops his head down, hiding his face from your view. Finally, he presses his face down into the bed.

You wait with bated breath. Rooster's grip on your hand didn't lessen in the slightest. You feel panic settle in the back of your throat when his shoulders start to tremble, and he still hasn't said anything.

"Bradley?" You flex your hand, resisting his tight grip, and he releases you. His hands fall limply on the bed. He still hasn't looked at you, though.

Tears start to streak down your face faster, and a small sob hitches in your throat. "I am sorry," you tell him sincerely.

"Are you really?" His low voice asks muffled.

"Sorry, or pregnant?" You ask pulling up the collar of his shirt you are wearing to wipe away some of your tears. "Because it's both."

His hands come to clasp themselves together, and you briefly wonder if he is praying. The shaking of his shoulders and the inability to see his face make it increasingly impossible to understand his reaction.

Finally, he looks at you, and those hazel eyes bleed back at you, tears still falling down his face staining his cheeks a bright red even through the healthy tan he has right now. Bradley's eyes trace over your face looking like he is searching for any trace of a lie. Then he examines your body under his shirt like he might already see a difference.

As if there was a difference, he would be able to notice now that he didn't notice before when you were naked, and he was inside of you. You wrap your arms around your chest, hugging yourself under his scrutiny.

"I'm going to keep it." You finally tell him now that Bradley's shining eyes are available for scrutiny again. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and his face falls into a frown. "I'm sorry," you say again.

You try to think of the right words to explain yourself to him. "When I found out, I realized I wanted this. I know we always said we didn't. But I really want this baby, Bradley. I am sorry I kept it from you. I just didn't know how to tell you. And then I saw these baby shoes in the store. They were so cute." Your fingers knot into the edge of the worn frat shirt you are wearing. His hazel eyes aren't giving you much to go off of. They are still darting around your face like he is trying to figure out what you are telling him.

Brad abruptly stands up in the middle of your rambling. So, you halt your words. Watching him as he walks out of the room. You strain your ears, trying to listen to where he went. You hear the hallway door open and beeps coming from the safe. After hearing it click open and seal again, Bradley's feet can be heard on the hallway floor again.

Your mind runs, trying to think of what he could have grabbed from the safe. Your important documents? You silently make a note that was something that you need to be sure to pack. You wouldn't want to come back to Bradley to get your passport or something after leaving. Could it be money? Was he going to give you money to leave with and give you some of the cash you two had been saving to move?

The thoughts make breathing extra hard, and you start to suck air in and out rapidly. The panic floods your veins, making the walls of the room shrink inward towards you. Sharp tingles prick at your fingertips and toes.

Before you can run through any other possible scenario, he gets back.

You can't focus on Bradley enough to see him through the black that starts to edge in at the corner of your vision. You desperately try to pull a gasping breath in your chest. The action of breathing is suddenly too overwhelming.

The panic of what you had just done finally cutting into you. That Bradley now knew the secrets you had been harboring so close to your chest. There is wringing in your ears, the shuddering wracking your body. You curl into yourself to try and shield yourself from the hurt and panic ringing through your body.

Then, you are engulfed. There isn't enough weight on the outside of you to combat the storm of panic that was trying to burst out from the inside of your veins. Numbness fills your body, and you know you are close to passing out. The storm brewed inside you, desperate to escape your body, desperate to take you out at the same time.

Heaving in breaths gets harder and more difficult. You dig your nails hard into the skin of your thighs, trying to scramble for anything to steady yourself. Fighting each desperate moment when there is s shift.

At first, you don't know what has changed. However, your breaths get a gasp longer, allowing slightly more oxygen, and the black in your vision starts to recede. You slam your eyes shut at the nausea you feel. The more air you can finally take in, the more you are allowed to start making sense of anything besides your own haywire body.

You are wrapped in your weighted blanket, and the extra pressure is aided by Bradley. He is holding you tight within his arms and legs, and he has you pulled close to his chest.

His legs are wrapped around your hips and crossed in front of you. Giving the front of your body room. Your legs are trapped between you two. One of his arms is crossed over your chest, and the other is petting your head soothingly, playing with your hair occasionally.

Bradley is humming to you. You try and focus on the tune. It's like a lifeline; you cling to the sound, letting it help your thoughts trail away from your panic. You keep trying to breathe bigger, longer breaths consciously now.

It's a tune you have heard before. Finally, Bradley breaks from the humming, whispering one of the lyrics into your ear, and you can immediately place the song.

"Love of my life," he mutters lowly into your ear, and then he returns to his humming. You are flashed back to a different time he sang this song to you.

He had been perched on the bench of a piano. Fingers gliding over the keys in time, his sweet voice dipping between octaves. It was Love Of My Life, by Queen. It is the song Bradley sings to you before every single deployment.

The song feels like a confirmation that you two will not be making it. A confirmation he is letting you go. This is the song that always fills the space between you when parting ways. The small semblance of recovery you had made is gone. Your breaths start to quicken again as you are dragged back into the panic.

Bradley's arms flex hard, and there is slightly more pressure around you. The beads of the weighted blanket shifting under his hands. He continues humming the song, but this time he peppers in a few more of the lyrics.

"Love of my life, don't leave me," he croons softly into your ear.

You don't know how long Bradley holds you waiting for you to calm down. You don't ever feel at ease, but the slow breaths and Bradley's soothing voice help bring you down from the high and worst of the panic attack.

You manage to let out a little whimper, and Bradley's arms start to loosen around you in slow intervals. You turn your face to the side, slotting your eyes up to catch a glimpse of him. Bradley has his eyes closed, and his face is splotchy and red from crying still. You fill in some of the lyrics to his humming in a cracked, barely there voice. Those beautiful eyes flash open, hearing your voice join his humming.

He won't stop humming, though. Rooster's hazel eyes are so intense, a medusas snare, that even as hard as you try to close your eyes, you aren't successful. They have captivated you entirely. Bradley finishes humming the song and lets his arms slip from around you. His legs uncross, and they fall flat on the bed on either side of you.

You push the weighted blanket off your top, so it is pilled around your legs as you ease out of your curled position.

"BradBrad," you whisper for him. You are still trembling at the very tips of your fingers. The buzz and tingles at the front of your nose are still persistent, but feeling has returned to the rest of your body. The needles fade out of your hands and legs.

"Love of my life," he hums sweetly again. His eyes have a tiny bit of worry, but for the most part, they are full of love and adoration for you. His body is borderline hot to the touch and feverish behind you. His heart is thumping loudly under your ear.

Brad's now loose hands find new purchase, gliding over your hips, tracing slow, steady circles. Then his left hand starts creeping forward further. Bradley's large hand is suddenly under his shirt and splaying out flat against your lower belly. That is where it finds its perch.

You gasp at the feeling of his hand, at the placement of it. Brad's fingers make the tiniest indents pressing into your skin. Your breath hitches at his squeeze. The metal of his wedding ring is warm against your skin, a nice contrast to the rest of his hand.

Hearing the way your breath hitches, Bradley immediately lays his hand fully flat. Bradley now retreating to a feather-light touch. His fingers swirl in an unknown pattern on your skin. His hands like to trace the shapes of flight paths he has memorized.

It was something Bradley had confessed to you one night during pillow talk. The two of you sprawled together. You were laying half on his chest. His fingertips were tracing the length of your spine, in feather-light trials, moving from the base of your spine to the small of your back, then following the path again. His fingers would sometimes brush into your hair and give small scratches before tracing your flesh again.

"How do you do that?" You finally had asked him.

"Do what?" He responded, but something about the glint in his eye told you he knew exactly what you were referring to. Rooster just wanted you to admit it out loud.

"You are so consistent, but you keep me on my toes." Bradley's hand stills where it had been gliding on your back. Then he started to trace once more, but this time his fingers making small movements and taking on a new drag like pattern dancing across your back.

"Is that right?" He asked you, but there was a full-blown boyish smirk donning his face.

You nodded your head, licking your lips. The tingles that his hands were sending through your body started to warm you up even after just having finished with him. "Yes, it rocks my world. So, why don't you let me on the secret?"

"I'm just that good, baby," he told you cheekily.

"Bradley Bradshaw." You warned lowly.

"It's flight paths."

"What?"

"I use the flight paths I have memorized," his fingers danced in a looping motion doubling back and then tracing forward again.

"They make it easy to loop, but it's long enough that there is different pacing, or I use the piano," He told you, letting his fingers tap and shift along your back as if it was a set of ivories suddenly. It had made you giggle.

"That might have been one of the sexiest things you have ever told me, Bradley." You had told him before you kissed him silly. And letting him showcase those skills with his tongue for the second time that night.

Now, Brad's hand that is lying against your stomach also starts to follow a pattern. You open your mouth, but Bradley quickly cuts you off.

"Please, don't say sorry."

"But I am."

"That was a bad attack."

It was true that you hadn't had one that severe in a while. "I'm—"

"Do not say sorry," he repeats. You sigh heavily and move to stop leaning against Bradley. However, he doesn't let you. The hand on your hip and lower abdomen fighting you and drawing you flush against him. He settles you, so you are comfortably leaning against his chest again.

"I am sorry," Brad finally says, almost a whisper in your ear.

"You are sorry?"

"Yes."

"Why?" You question him. Not sure you understand what he is apologizing for.

"Why are you going to leave me?" Brad asks instead of answering your question.

You sigh and close your eyes. You lean your head back, so it's settled on Bradley's shoulder. Then take a deep calming breath before responding. "I know you don't want kids. You have always been very honest about that, and it's not your fault I'm pregnant.

"Well, I don't think you went and got pregnant by yourself. It's kind of a process that takes two contributing parties. Unless you are going to tell me that it's someone else's." Bradley says the words so incredulously that you know he has no doubt the baby is his.

"I know you don't want this, but I realized I do."

"What if I do want this?"

"I'm not going to let you do this just because you feel obligated, Bradley," you tell him tiredly.

"No. I want this."

"How could that be?" You ask.

You feel him shift behind you, and you open your eyes to see what he is doing. Bradley is reaching to the bedside table where you see a huge binder sitting.

It is a binder that you know well. Bradley is a meticulous and organized person. He likes to refer to this binder as your Life Plan Binder. It was full of timelines, dates, references, and lists. Everything Bradley feels is necessary for y'all's life.

You realize that this one is different from the one that lives on his desk. It is slimmer, and the front doesn't have a picture of the two of you slotted in the cover that the other did.

"The LPB?" You ask him, confused.

His left hand makes itself at home again on your lower abdomen, while his right hand puts the binder on your lap. Finally, you read the cover where it says alternative plans in bold lettering.

"I'm sorry I left earlier, but I needed to get this." He mutters into your ear. Brad's tone is deeply apologetic. He flips the binder open, and there are labeled tabs. You fully realize this is a binder you have never seen before. You scan the tabs and freeze up in Bradley's hold when you see the one he is thumbing to.

It is towards the back, behind the different tabs, including restations, health, new cars, vacations, and retirement, is a tab that has a simple label. It's blue and just says, baby. Bradley flips to the tab, and you see the cover page of the section with the table of contents. In bold at the top of the page, you read Baby Bradshaw.

A sob that ends up coming out as a broken laugh ripping from your chest. The section contents was filled out with thoroughly thought out plans on you having children, from a section with important timelines, appointments to schedule, college savings plans, and a section with boys' and girls' names that he likes.

You bring one of your hands up to stifle the sobs that are bubbling in your chest. You hold your hand close over your mouth to try to hold back the sound. His fingers traced over the page and the table of contents for the section.

"What is this?" You finally ask him.

"It's my alternate life plan binder. For you know, if other things come up."

"Why do you have a Baby Bradshaw section?" You hesitantly ask. His hand is still warm against your stomach, and he flexes his fingers.

"Well, a while ago, I started thinking about kids," he trails off, and you start looking through the table of contents again. You see that the most robust and largest section is actually related to adoption. You feel your heart melt in your chest. A new bright feeling of hope blossoms looking at the care, time, and thought he has put into this. As he continues, "and well… You know how I am. I wanted to be prepared for that possibility."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I've been ruminating, and I don't know. Maybe I would have mentioned it at our next check-in. But I knew you don't…" Bradley doesn't finish his sentence, and you lose your mind a little bit.

You pull the large binger up into your hands and shift. You struggle and move until you turn in his grip. Your legs wrapped around Brad's waist. You want to see his face, which is easier in this position. The hand that had been placed on your stomach curls around your back and waist, steadying you against him.

"You changed your mind?" You ask him. You let your hands trace over his chest, settling on cupping his face. Then, staring into his eyes, you look for any trace of anger or deceit.

"You seem to also have changed your mind, baby," he takes the binder from where it was awkwardly pressed in between you two. It allows you to settle closer to him. Bradley sets the binder to the side, momentarily breaking eye contact to make sure none of the pages are creased. Your chests were almost flush together. You wrap your arms around his neck, and then he is the one to hold your face. His eyes reconnect with yours, and you once again feel like you are caught in them.

The intensity and openness in his gaze make your lips move faster than your brain to lay out the whole truth for him. "I don't think that I ever wanted to not have kids. I had just accepted it because I knew that I couldn't." You explain, not breaking eye contact. Bradley's thumb traces a slow circle against your cheek.

"I would never let you do this by yourself."

"I can't just throw a wrench like this in your life, Brad."

He immediately starts shaking his head in protest. "It's our life. I'm not going to lie to you and say that you didn't hurt my feelings. If you left me," Bradly heaves a heavy shaky breath. You briefly wonder if he is going to cry again. Then he continues to explain, "I would be broken… shattered. I feel even worse that you didn't want to talk to me or tell me."

You can tell how deeply you hurt him. Even though you knew what you were going to do was wrong, now that you and Bradley are talking about it. You know you need to try and explain your rationale no matter how messed up it was.

"At first, I wasn't sure how I felt. I wanted to talk to you, but I couldn't do that before I knew how I felt. But then I kept thinking about all the times we talked about you not wanting kids. How you had so many good, valid reasons for feeling that way. I know you, Bradley. I knew that you would do the right thing as soon as I told you. But you don't need obligation ruling anymore of your life that it already does."

"So what if I was obligated? I agreed to be obligated to you for the rest of our lives when we got married. I want to be bound to you. I want to shoulder your burdens, just like you shoulder mine," Bradley says.

"A child is a lifelong burden for you to shoulder," you say. You need to know, need to be fully sure Brad understands.

"Do you think so low of me? Do you think I wouldn't love something that was a mix of you and me?"

"There are plenty of people in the world who don't love their children." You tell him, swallowing hard.

He lets out a long sigh, his breath fanning a bit over your face. "I want this baby. I want this baby with you. I want to be at every doctor's appointment. I want to know everything I've missed. I want family vacations where I can buy a Hawaiian shirt in three different sizes for all of us. I want little league games. I want a baby to sing to sleep. I want someone to put on top of the piano and sing to like my dad did. I want us to paint a nursery. I want Disney trips. I want to fight about curfew. I want to make breakfast on Saturdays and spend Sundays in the shop with football, restoring a beat-up first car. I want to make dad jokes. Fuck, I need to buy a pair of new balances."

Warmth fills you at his words. You let out a small laugh picturing Bradley as a stereotypical dad. How he wants all of that with you. That you won't do this alone like you have mentally been preparing yourself for since finding out. You run your fingers up and down his neck trailing it down his shoulder as far as you can reach before tracing back to his neck. A content sigh falls from his lips, and his eyes close, enjoying your gentle caresses.

"What are some of the names?" You break the silence after his confessions.

"I like Westley," he says with a small boyish smile. You bite back a grin at the name, playfully rolling your eyes.

"Oh, and is Buttercup on your list for girl names?" You ask him teasingly.

"Maybe," he says. You lean forward and peck his lips.

"You're not going to leave me," Bradley whispers with conviction. You know he is still coming down from the emotional roller coaster you just went through together. You also know Brad is going to need time to fully process this conversation and the change about to happen in your lives. However, you also know, without a doubt, that Bradley will be holding your hand at your next doctor's appointment.

"No, I'm not." You confirm and brush your lips over his softly.

"Stay with me forever," Bradley begs you in a voice a little too small for you to handle.

You hold the hazel gaze for a very, very long moment. You let him examine you, see the truth, and honestly bleeding in your gaze before you respond. What you want to say at first is: I love you. However, those words weren't quite right; they didn't seem to fully capture your intention and the emotion in your chest you felt for this man. So instead, you settle on the words you think will most closely allow him to understand. You brush your lips against him again, whispering your answer into them.

"As you wish, Bradley."

#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster smut #bradley bradshaw x y/n #hot 🥵#Coleys writing #bradley bradshaw fanfiction

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ist4rgirlo · 10 months

Note

DO TRAITOR BY OLIVIA RODRIGO WITH CONRAD

──────── 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 - 𝐜.𝐟

ONESHOT !

summary: you and conrad recently broke up and you just saw him on a date with your best friend.

warning: angst, mentions of break up, crying (LMK IF I MISSED ANYTHING)

It's been two weeks since me and Conrad broke up. It wasn't a good breakup. It was a breakup that started with a fight and ended with parting ways. I wouldn't say that I was the best girlfriend, but I was there for him when no one else was.

One day, everything just changed. He wouldn't look at me the same anymore, touch me the same. I thought that it was just that he was having a hard time because of his mom's passing. I did everything to understand him, I became his rock, someone he could lean on.

Brown guilty eyes and little white lies

Yeah, I played dumb but I always knew

I just ignored it and tried to act like everything was still the same. But I could feel the distance growing between us. He was always on his phone whenever we would go out, He wouldn't talk to me like he used to and avoided my questions. I knew something wasn't right, but I didn't want to admit it. I was scared to confront him and find out what was really going on.

Ain't it funny

All the twisted games

All the questions you used to avoid?

That's where it all started. I confronted him. It started with him saying that he was going to change, for the better, for us.

Ain't it funny?

Remember I brought it up

And you told me I was paranoid

Then it became to little fights because he couldn't keep his promise, he told me I was paranoid, I tried to talk to him, I asked him to be truthful and honest with me, but he kept denying and avoiding it.

We argued until it became too much, and I decided to end it. I told him that I was done with it and that I had enough. He just looked at me and walked away. He just turned and didn't even try to fight for what we had. That was the last time I saw him.

Ever since that breakup, his best friend Steven has been helping me to move on. Even before me and Conrad started dating, me and Steven were already friends, he was even the one who introduced us to each other.

Steven has been a source of comfort and support throughout the entire process. Even during me and Conrad's dating phase, Steven was there for me, no matter how bad things got.

He was the type to not always tolerate his bestfriend's actions. He was someone who always defended me from Conrad.

I asked him to accompany me to do groceries, since this was probably the first time I went out after the break up. I didn't know If I could do it myself alone so Steven suggested that he should come with me.

I thought that I was somehow okay now, that some wounds had healed already not until I saw Conrad, my ex-boyfriend, in the store. I froze and couldn't say a word. I thought he was alone, just doing his normal errands not until a girl came up to him, clinging on his arm. I moved a little just to see that girl's face.

You'd talk to her

When we were together

Loved you at your worst

But that didn't matter

My heart dropped. It was my best friend, the one who knew everything.

She was also the one who told me that I didn't deserve how Conrad was treating me, but now here she is with him. I watched in disbelief as they laughed and walked away, leaving me standing there with my heart in my hands.

It took you two weeks

To go off and date her

Guess you didn't cheat

But you're still a traitor

I felt betrayed, I felt angry, I felt stupid. So many questions popped into my head like why was it so fast? why me? why my best friend? I wanted answers, but I knew I wasn't going to get them. I felt like I had been played and I was so hurt. I was determined to never trust anyone again.

I just stood there until I felt Steven's hand on my back, I looked up to him. He saw everything, his eyes filled with anger, anger for his best friend. He held me close and said, “I’m sorry.” I knew he wanted to help me, but there was nothing he could do.

I looked away, ashamed. I couldn't bear to see his pity, so I stepped away from him and said, “It's okay, I'll be fine.” He nodded sadly and we both knew I was lying. I turned to go, but he grabbed my hand and said, “Wait.” He held my gaze and said, “You don't have to do this alone.” His words were like a lifeline, and I finally allowed myself to break down and cry.

He held me tightly until I stopped sobbing, then let go. He looked at me with a gentle expression and said, "Remember, I'm here for you." I felt a warmth inside me that I hadn't felt for a long time - the feeling of being understood and supported. I nodded and smiled, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. He was just glad that he was there for me, he would do everything just to pick those pieces of my heart and bring them again all together.

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 10 months

Note

‘realize’ for the word ask thingy!! -galaxy

I see this and I raise you:

Doll!Reader helping Ken realize that horses exist in Barbieland

..........

"You weren't kidding..we really did have horses here all along.."

"Glad you finally realized that, Ken." With a small chuckle, you turned back to your horse, taking the pink plastic brush to her mane as you gently combed through the fluff.

"There you go, girlie...how do you keep getting these knots, hm?" You cooed, to which she snorted in reply, seeming content.

All the while, Ken couldn't stop staring at you both in awe, still trying to process what he was seeing before his very eyes.

A horse in Barbieland.

If only he knew they existed here, too, before he decided to take over everything and reinvented patriarchy.

The one time you decided to come into town....was when this seemingly perfect paradise was rapidly transformed into "Kendom", where the Kens took over the dreamhouses and attempted to rewrite the entire constitution.

They attempted to brainwash you as they did other Barbies into servitude, but since you weren't a Barbie yourself...it didn't really work.

Yet Ken, aka Beach Ken who went to the Real World with Stereotypical Barbie and returned as a completely different person, tried convincing you to stick around, showing off all the horse-themed stuff he had.

Despite you being a doll literally centered around equine care, he kept talking over you, spouting nothing but inaccurate horse facts and firmly believing he knew more than you.

As far as he was aware..horses only existed in the Real World, where men rode them and owned them and were the ultimate symbols of manhood.

When he made a jab at your job and refused to believe it's your actual profession, you snapped and nearly ripped his horseshoe chain necklace off of him, embarrassing him in front of all the other Kens, before you called out to your horse.

His jaw dropped as he saw her appear out of nowhere, and you mounted her and glared at him, mockingly asking if he still believed they're only from the Real World. Then you galloped all the way back home, refusing to hear his response.

You haven't returned since, and he struggled to maintain his image as a manly and "cool" leader after that revelation was dropped on him like an anvil.

After all was said and done, and Barbieland was restored to its former glory, Ken decided to go look for you. After realizing that patriarchy didn't make him happy, he wanted to make amends (and see your horses, but mostly make amends) and admit that scorning your job was shitty.

He kept rehearsing what he was going to say during the long walk to your home....but ended up faltering at your doorstep, becoming an anxious wreck until you let him in.

You weren't inclined to, at first, although seeing as he no longer wore that stupid mink coat and instead had a tie-dye hoodie that said "I Am Kenough", you figured he finally had some sense knocked into him.

Plus, the fact that he walked all this way was surprising..until you remembered Kens didn't drive cars or use bikes.

Even so, it's obvious that he genuinely wanted to make things right.

So both of you talked for a while, with him concluding that he felt stressed and unsure of what to do with his life now that Barbie's out of the picture.

He felt like he didn't belong anywhere near her dreamhouse, and he wasn't ready to go back to the Real World anytime soon. He just felt...stuck.

You didn't have too many words to comfort him with, given you've never been there and you've never dealt with the complex human emotions he just started experiencing himself.

But you did know how to cheer him up.

So you took him outside to one of the fenced arenas at your ranch, whistling for your horse, and she came trotting over.

Ken was awestruck, watching you tend to the gentle creature as you finished brushing her mane. He stepped closer to the fence, unsure of what to do or what to say...or even if he was allowed to be this close.

However you could see the look in his eyes, and the hesitancy in his body language, and ultimately relented.

You couldn't stay mad at him for eternity.

"You can pet her if you wanna."

He blinked in surprise, before looking at your horse again and cautiously reaching out to her face. For a moment she stared at him, and the abrupt snort made him flinch away.

"I-I...don't think she likes me.." He frowned.

"It's okay, Ken. She only acts like that 'cuz you're reaching for her mouth and don't have any food. Here. Let me help."

You took his hand, ignoring the way he stared at you with a growing blush on his face while you guided him. But eventually his focus shifted back to the horse as he felt soft fur beneath his fingertips, eyes widening as he looked to see his hand resting just above her nose.

Her ears flicked to the side, though besides that..she didn't react in any hostile way.

He was in childlike amazement, gently petting her and brushing his fingers through her mane. And you stepped back, allowing the two to bond, before noticing the tears welling up in his eyes.

"Are you alright?"

"Y-Yeah...this is just awesome. She's nothing like the ones on those stupid TVs we had."

"Nope. They can't compare to her." You chuckled, leaning against one of the posts with a warm smile. "She's the real deal."

#clanask #galaxy anon #barbie movie x reader #barbie x reader #ken x reader #ryan gosling ken #one word prompt

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outsideratheart · 1 year

Text

Plans (Alexia Putellas x reader)

A/N: This idea has been in my head for while but whenever it came to writing it my mind would go blank. I hope you guys like it.

To those around you your departure from Wolfsburg didn't come as a surprise but the rest of the world couldn't believe they would let you go considering the way you performed at the Euros with Germany. For you it wasn't about the money like the rest of the world assumed, you wanted to play for a team that valued you and over the last 18 months Wolfsburg hadn't done that.

You had been playing football since you were 4 years old, got your first professional contract at 16 years old and was the youngest player male or female to become the starting goalkeeper. Throughout your career you never picked up any injuries other than a niggle here and there. That was until a reckless tackle left you needing major surgery on your shoulder and put you on the side line for almost a year. Your return to the starting 11 came in the second leg of the champions league quarter final against Barcelona where you managed to keep a clean sheet and contributed heavily to giving the Spanish side their first loss of the season.

When it came to your contract negotiations you made things very clear, you were the number 1 goalkeeper. It wasn't a claim fuelled with arrogance, it was backed by facts. They had different plans, ones that didn't align with yours so you asked your manager to put some feelers out. Throughout the euros he would keep you updated and when he called to say Sandra Panos was taking an early retirement to spend more time with her family and that Barcelona was interested, you didn't think twice about it. During the summer tournament you, along with your manager, had several video calls with the Catalonian side and came to terms on a contract which pleased both you and the team. They only had one request; it had to kept a secret until Sandra made her announcement.

It's how you found yourself standing outside Joan Camper on 2nd August just two days after you lost the final. You were told to take a few days off to recover from the loss and to take some time off but you didn't want to. Losing the final in extra time was brutal and you couldn't sit around doing nothing or you would obsess over every minute detail.

"You're the new signing?"

You turn on your heels to see Ingrid walking rapidly towards you with Mapi not too far behind her.

"I cannot confirm nor deny" you briefly hugged the Norwegian before she introduced you to Mapi.

The three of you walk into the facility but you are soon pulled aside to sign your contract and make things official. The process itself is tedious, page after page requires your signature and several members of the higher ups take a photo with you. Then the part you were waiting for comes, they give you your shirt. It felt weird seeing your name on the back of anything that wasn't Wolfsburg and it fills you with a bitter sweet feeling even though you know the change was needed.

Shortly after you are led out onto the field so you can be officially introduced to the team. Many of them you had met before when representing Germany but now they were your team mates and there were a couple that had already held that title in the past. You had already seen Ingrid earlier in the morning, Frido welcomes you with open arms stating how happy she is that you're both on the same team again. There was only one person left.

"No way did they let you go" Caro shouts as she runs across the training pitch. She leaps into your arms as soon as she's close enough. Caroline is one of you best friends and you were devastated when you learnt she was leaving Wolfsburg after 6 years.

"Barely even fought for me" you whispered in her ear.

She jumped down and you can tell that she is caught aback by what you've said but she hadn't seen the way they treated you after your injury.

"I bet the girls wasn't happy"

"Not in the slightest. I had to keep it a secret until Panos announced her retirement. Svenja was the first one I told, then Poppi who isn't talking to me, not properly anyways"

After the quick catch up you watch the team train from the sidelines. You wasn't allowed to join in until you completed your medical. The team was worried about putting you to work so soon after the euros so they wanted to put you through some tests before they let you put on your gloves.

As a football fan it was amazing watching the Spanish champions train. The tika taka style is something you have always admired and to see it up close, well it filled you with excitement for the upcoming season. You see Mapi struggling to defend against Caro and you see an opportunity to gain some points with the defender.

"Mapi, come here" you call her over when they split for a drinks break. A few of the players watch as you whisper some tactics in her ear then show her the positioning your former team mate uses. When the scrimmage resumes you watch as Mapi follows your advice and stops Caro twice in a row.

When Mapi looks your way she points at you leading the Norwegian to realise what you must have told her.

"That's not fair" Caro complains.

"How did you know what she'd do?" Ana asks you.

"It's my job to know how attackers think so that I can stop them. Caro is a creature of habit and hasn't changed her style since she left Wolfsburg so it was easy" your football IQ had helped you become the player you are and it's the reason why teams did more research on you than any other goalkeeper.

"Clearly not if you couldn't stop her at Camp Nou" Pina's voice is laced with smugness.

Out the corner of your eye you can see a couple of players shaking their head, a few even burying their face in their hands.

"It's hard to do that when you’re watching from the stands Claudia" the young forward was clearly confused "I had only just been cleared by our doctor so I wasn't playing"

Pina went bright red when she realises the mistake she had made.

"Alexia's going to love playing with her. I wonder if she knew Y/N was signing with us" Marta whispers to Caro.

"I think she knew before us but not by much. Just wait until they can play together, the way their minds work will be make them dangerous. Speaking of, Y/N!" Caro shouts over to you "Have you met Alexia yet?"

"No, I heard she is coming in later for some physio so I will meet her after my physical"

The team share a look. Alexia sang your praises often and it was no secret that she admired you not only on the pitch. They wished they could be a fly on the wall for the first meeting between the two of you.

As expected you pass your medical with no issues. The cardio test is easy and even though you were fresh off a gruelling tournament you showed no signs of fatigue. The only thing they were a little cautious on was your shoulder, in the lead up the winning England goal you were taking out by a white shirt and during the ceremony you were seen holding your elbow to limit the pressure on the joint.

The physio asks if you want the TV on whilst she works. You connect your phone and play a reply of the Euros final. The doctor scoffs beside you but doesn't say anything. After the champions league they learnt the importance of understanding a loss.

You are laid on a treatment table as the physio tries her best to turn your shoulder inside out. The pain was there and it was more than you were willing to admit but you had a strict recovery routine and you didn't do it after the final so you were a little sore. The physio tells you to lay on your front so she can look at the muscle behind your shoulder. Your focus is 100% on your breathing and trying to relax, so much so that you don't hear the door open or the sound of crutches travel across the room. It is only when you hear her speaking to one of the other physios closest do you wave yours off so you can finally meet your new captain.

You wait for her to finish talking before introducing yourself, only Alexia beats you to it.

"I never thought we get the chance to play together. I'm Alexia" Alexia is quick to remove her arm from one of her crutches so that she is able to shake your hand.

“Y/N Y/L/N”

Even though it has been a month since her surgery you can tell she isn't used to her crutches so you pat the closest treatment table so she can sit down.

“Mucho gusto”

“Igualmente”

Alexia's eyes widen at your Spanish response, even more so that it sounds authentic even with your german accent.

"Surprised the German speaks Spanish” You laugh a little at her shocked response. Truth is as soon as a potential move to Barcelona got brought up you started studying the language straight away. You had welcomed many people to Wolfsburg and you told them the same thing 'learn the language and get to know to the culture'. You had been putting in the work on the first one but given this is your first day in Barcelona you hadn't had to chance to experience the second.

"Mm-hmm" she was impressed and you knew it.

“It would be ignorant of me to move to a different country and not make the effort to learn their language. I was just doing some extra physio work but i'll get out of your hair so you can start yours"

"No, no. I don't mind you been here" Alexia surprised herself by allowing you to be there when she does her rehab. Since the injury she has been keeping herself to herself but there was something about you that made her feel comfortable. Maybe it was the fact that you had been through something similar to her, you understand what it was like to be at your peak then have everything come crashing down.

Alexia gets changed into some training gear and when she re enters the room you are stood up as the doctor assesses the movement of your recently healed shoulder. Your upper body was covered in noting but a sports bra revealing your sculpted arms and toned abs.

Alexia admired the view in front of her, maybe for a little bit longer than she should have for when she meets your eyes she sees that you've caught her.

“I’m sorry, I...I" Alexia stumbles over her words and you find it adorable "I was —”

“Checking me out" you finish her sentence, smirking as you do so when you see her cheeks flush red "Don’t be embarrassed, own it. Do you want me to turn around so you can have a full look”

Alexia laughs as you walk back towards the bench as if there's a catwalk “enjoying the view from behind?” you almost shout back to her

“Yes” you turn hastily, shocked at the new confidence Alexia has "What? You said to own it"

"Touche Putellas, touche"

Alexia starts her rehab whilst you sit back on the bench wearing a compression sleeve which is hooked up to a machine to monitor the pressure. After twenty minutes she notices what is playing on the TV and he first instinct to to scold you for tourturing yourself but it would make her a hypocrite because she did the same thing after Turin.

It gets to the final ten minutes and you know what is about to come. You fists turn into balls as Chloe Kelly's shot hits the back of the net. Your eyes close for a brief moment and a single tear falls down your cheek as you do so.

"It was a handball" the soft voice brought you back to the present.

"Doesn't matter. I should have been better" you couldn't bring yourself to look at Alexia.

"It's not on you Y/N" Alexia tries to console you but she knew nothing would take away the sting of losing such an important game "I know it's easy to blame yourself when your team loses but a loss cannot be placed on one person's shoulders"

"Especially if that person isn't able to play" you knew that you might be pushing the boundaries of your friendship which was formed not even an hour ago but you knew she needed to hear it.

"It's that obvious" you send her a look that says yes "It's hard not to think what would've happened if I could have played but i'm coming to term with this" she point to her knee showing that she was starting to accept her injury.

"I don't know if this will help but I knew we would beat you before the Euros even started. After the Italy game I saw your team's weak spot. Your number 10 Hermoso"

You see Alexia wince at the mention of her former team mate and ex girlfriend.

"I take your face as confirmation that the rumours were true" Alexia nods her head "Ok well back to what I was saying. Hermoso played a bigger role than your team realised and you couldn't replace her, it was obvious you were still experimenting when the Euros started. So let's say you were healthy because I worked really hard to build what we called an APS, Alexia Putellas--

"Segura?"

"Close but the S stood for strategy, the Alexia Putellas Strategy. I worked with Lena Oberdorf for months perfecting it and I am confident when I say she would have made your job incredibly difficult when we played each other"

"I guess there's only one way to find out" Alexia says as she continues her rehab. The thought of playing against you and seeing this APS in person gave her a little bit of extra motivation.

It is almost an hour later when Alexia is done and although you finished over 45 minutes ago you didn't want to leave. You were enjoying getting to know your new team mate with it been just the two of you. The first few questions revolved around your career, after that you refused to talk shop, normal question only. You discussed everything from top 5 movies of all time to favourite Christmas memory. Without knowing it you had both put each other on pedestals and this time alone together made you both human.

Before going home you had to get your new training clothes from the locker room. When you leave the building you see Alexia sitting on a bench typing furiously on her phone.

"Is everything ok?" you ask the midfielder.

"My sister is suppose to be picking me up and now I can't get a hold of her"

You hear her leave a voicemail for who you can only guess is her sister. The way she furiously speaks leaves you no chance of understanding what she said.

"That wasn't Spanish"

"Catalonian"

"I'll add it to my list" you joke.

Alexia is clearly stressed out about the situation and it leaves you no choice but to be her knight is shinning armour.

"Calm down" you place you hand over her phone screen "If you want I can take you home"

"To my mum's"

"Ok, let's go" You take her bag before she can argue and lead her to where you've parked.

Once in the car you give Alexia your phone so she can pick the music. The drive to her mum's is done in comfortable silence, the only sound was Spanish music and Alexia's instructions. You pull up outside, get her crutches and bag from the boot before helping her of the car and following her to the front door. The path isn't exactly even so you are cautious of every step she takes. Her mum, having not recognised the car outside her house, meets you both at the door.

"Querida, I thought Alba was picking you up" She takes the bag from you.

"Me too but she never showed"

Alexia's mum stays in the door way with you and Alexia on the other side of the threshold. It's almost like Alexia doesn't want the day to end as much as you do.

"Are you going to introduce me to your new friend?"

"Mum, this is Y/N Y/L/N our new goalkeeper. She played for Germany and she used to play for Wolfsburg"

"I thought she looked familiar. She's the one you couldn't stop talking about the other night when we watched the final. Sorry about the result Carino"

You still didn't like the pity in people's eyes when the give you their condolences for the loss. It is something that Alexia is quick to pick up on.

"Y/N this is my mum Eli Putellas Segura"

"It's a pleasure to meet you Mrs Putellas or is it Segura" the panic in your tone is small but it's heard by the two Putellas women.

"You can call me Eli. Thank you for driving my daughter home. Would you like to come in for a drink?"

Truth is you would love to but you had already made plans.

"Maybe another time. Ingrid is letting me stay with her for the next fews day and in return I agreed to cook dinner"

"Did the club not help you find an apartment?" Alexia asks, her eyebrow slightly crooked as frustration grows within her.

"They did but for obvious reasons they didn't expect me to be in Barcelona so soon. Something about taking some time off" you joke.

"And you wanted to get back to work" Alexia understands you completely.

"See, you get it. If only everybody did instead of worrying about me" you laugh off your wish.

Eli watches the two of you go back and forth for a few more minutes. She couldn't believe you had only ever met on the pitch because the sight before her looks more like a reunion between old friends than a scene between two people who only got introduced today.

Both mother and daughter stand by the door as they watch you get back into your car.

"So what's going on between you two then?" Eli wasn't blind and the connection that was slowly forming between you and Alexia was clear to anyone with eyes.

"I don't know. She will be good for the team though"

"And for you. I haven't seen you smile like that since you came back from England"

"She understands what I'm going through" Alexia's reply was short and sweet.

Over the next few months you continued your rehab sessions even though you were fully cleared. You even coincided your sessions with Alexia's when possible so that you could spend as much time with her . You even took part in her workouts on top of your own. It was exhausting but totally worth it.

You suggested that the club invest in a reflex grid, it was made up of several shapes connect by ropes. Every time the ball hit a shape, it would send it in a different direction. Some nights you would stay behind with the goalkeeper coach to do some extra practices using your new toy. Alexia would watch from the window of the treatment room and even came outside to watch you train. The team saw the way you brought out the old side of Alexia, the one they feared went away when she had her surgery. They wanted to know if anything was going on but your former Wolfsburg team mates told them that you were a very private person and given that Alexia is in the middle of rehabbing her knee, you most likely wouldn't have made a move.

It was after one of those late night sessions that Alexia joined you on the pitch. She hadn’t done it much because she hated being on the grass and not being able to lace up her boots. You were tidying up when you saw her walking over.

“You looked like you were having fun?” Alexia helps you put the balls back in the bag. You can see her thinking about doing something with it but ultimately decides against it.

“Don’t be sad Alexia, you’ll be the one taking shots at me before you know it. As for me having fun I was. I saw you watching, did you enjoy the show?” You judged her slightly.

“I’m gay” she blurts out.

When you turn to face Alexia you see her stood a few meters behind you. Clearly she stopped walking and you didn’t realise.

“I’m honoured that your feel comfortable enough to share this information, I really am but you’ve got to know by now that I already knew this”

“Then why haven’t you made a move? We have been flirting for months, I spend more time with you than anyone else yet you haven’t asked me out. Why? Is it because I’m broken?” She points to her knee. Even now she was still coming to terms with her injury and it caused her confidence to take a huge hit.

You walk back to where she was standing. She has no idea how difficult it was for you to respect where she is in her life.

“Alexia” you take a hold of her hand “I like you more than I have anyone in a very long time. You’re beautiful, strong and when I was at my lowest you put me back together when you had your own issues to focus on. I would love nothing more than to take you out for dinner but right now you have to focus on your recovery. Trust me when I say I have plans for us once you're back on the pitch”

“You do?” Alexia asks in disbelief.

With a simple nod of your head a huge grin appears on her face.

“So right now I won't act on my feelings. Instead I will stay by your side and be there in whichever way possible"

"Vale" the way Alexia smiles and how it reaches her eyes gives you an incredible feeling. Then again everything she did had you feeling a certain type of way, you couldn't quite put a finger on what it was but in a time were things were new and uncertain she brought you peace.

It was the right thing to do yet you regretted your decision of not pursuing Alexia every time you were near her. Since the night you admitted your plans the energy between the two of you changed and when you were in a room together the tension was heavy and obvious to anyone who took a few seconds to watch you both.

It was during media day when the team really saw the connection between the two of you. The morning was spent doing interviews and the afternoon was spent taking photos for social media and the team website. The last set of photos to be taken was of the team wearing a new limited edition kit. At first everything was normal but when it came to Alexia's turn you could sense something was off. You knew she hated getting her photo taken especially when it was this staged but it was something deeper than that. You watched as she shakily tied her boots and re-adusted her socks for the umpteenth time. It is only when you see her staring at her knee do you understand what's going on.

"Give us the room" you tell the other players.

Many of them argue that they need to get changed too but quite frankly you don't care. Even when the women around you try to get your attention you don't take your eyes of Alexia whose own begin to well up ever so slightly as she gets more and more overwhelmed.

"Now!" you raise your voice this time and it doesn't come as a surprise when the team do as they're told.

As soon as they leave you close the door behind them and lock it. When you turn around you see Alexia's hands shaking as she once again adjusts her socks.

"Talk to me Ale"

You crouch down so that you can see her. Her hands tremble as you hold them tightly.

"My socks won't cover it"

Many people didn't understood the psychological affect scars had and the visible ones took a knock to your confidence that was difficult to overcome. You knew this feeling all two well but it's the first time you see Alexia struggling with the reminder of her surgery.

“Every scar tells a story. This one, if I remember correctly” you point the scar on her right index finger “tells me you're not as skilled in the kitchen as you are on the pitch” Alexia sniffled as a small chuckle escapes her mouth “and this one” you place your hand just above her knee not wanting to overstep her boundaries, she nods her head letting you know it’s ok for you to touch it.

Alexia's breath hitches slightly as you stroke over the reminder of her ACL surgery. The goosebumps that form on her legs let you know the affect your touch has on her but now isn't to time to tease.

“This one tells the story of a strong women who was given the option to give up but she chose to fight. It tells me that even when she wanted to give up she kept going. It shows bravery and resilience” despite a voice telling you not to, you place a gentle kiss on her knee.

"It reminds me that I'm broken" Alexia tries to swallow the ball of emotion that is rising the the surface.

This side of Alexia is one that you have gotten to known well over the past few months but it seems like this time the pain runs deeper than before. She had been cleared to train on the pitch starting next week but the scar on her knee is a constant reminder of how quickly things can change.

"You're not broken Alexia and you should wear that scar with pride"

"Like you do yours?" she is quick to respond and it's clear she is trying to pick a fight because it means you won't talk about her scar anymore.

You quickly take off your shirt and chuck it aside revealing three scars on your left shoulder. She trails her thumb along each scar in a similar motion to what you did only minutes ago.

"Happy?" you raise your eyebrows as you hope to have satisfied the woman in front of you.

"You hide your scars Y/N and you can't say you don't. You swapped shirts with Lola when we played Atleti but you waited until you were in the tunnel so that nobody saw you without a shirt on"

"Maybe I just didn't want you to be jealous when people start ogling my sculpted physique"

"Y/N I'm being serious. I've used you as inspiration for my recovery. You worked hard, got your spot back on the team and lead your to country to the Euros final"

You groan slightly as she mentions the final. It was still a sore subject and she knew it.

"I know you don't like talking about it but you should. You worked your way back to a major tournament, it's something I hope to do as well. Don't you see that you are telling me not to be ashamed of my scar when you are of yours"

Alexia was right, she knew it and you did too. Your team mates, past and present, would consider you a great leader and the reason for that is because you would never ask them to do something you wouldn't do yet this exactly what you are asking of Alexia.

An idea comes to mind. You may not be the captain of this team but you still have to lead by example and that it exactly what you planned on doing.

"Come with me" you hold you hand out and Alexia takes it happily.

Your entrance to the other room gains the attention of the rest of the team. You aren't wearing a shirt and Alexia is holding your hand.

"I'll show them mine if you show them yours, ok?" you ask Alexia who hesitantly nods her head.

You ask a member of the staff for a pair of scissors and ignore the questions coming from your team mates and the co-ordinator of the photoshoot who is reminding you that there is only one goalkeeper shirt. A few gasps can be heard when you cut the sleeves off your shirt.

"Y/N! What are you doing?" someone tries to stop you but they are too late.

"Time to show the world that injuries do not define you and your scars are not something you have to hide"

You see Alexia smiling ear to ear when she realises what you are doing. After putting on your goalkeeper gloves, you grab and ball, hold it forward and turn slightly so that you scars are fully exposed. The photographer begins taking photos immediately and is loving your new found confidence.

"I want to do it too" Mapi shouts before taking her shirt off and cutting the sleeves.

You can see a staff member glaring at you but you can only mouth an apology. You ruining the kit was one thing but now there were two shirts which were now made of less material than the others.

Alexia watches you mess around with Mapi. She knows that you have done this for her but she still isn't sure. A couple of the other players join you in taking less than professional photos but it sums up the team perfectly; a group of a people who mess around together and enjoy each others company.

"Alexia" you sing and she saunters over to you.

Doubt still lingers in her eye but you reassure her that it will be ok and she believes you. She pulls her sock down revealing the full length of her scar.

"Beautiful" you lower your tone so that only she can hear you.

Upon request, you and Alexia pose for a few photos together. You're favourite is the one where you are down on one knee pretending to shine Alexia's boot. It was the perfect shot as it showed both her scar and yours.

She cannot be sure if its the vulnerability she is feeling or the fact that you have once again gone out of your way to make her feel better that causes her to do what she does next. She wraps her arms around your neck and pulls you close. The proximity in which you faces are is the biggest challenge you've faced yet. Every part of you is yearning to feel her lips on yours but you somehow show restraint. Alexia on the other hand doesn't care for such thing.

You could hear a pin drop when she leans in to kiss you just on the corner of your mouth. It is the quickest kiss you have ever experienced and leaves you frozen in place. Did she really just do that in front of the team?

"Thank you Y/N"

She walks away without saying another word. If she were to turn around you would the smugness of her face. After finding out you wanted to pursue something more with her, Alexia bided her time, waiting to strike. Her injury made her feel helpless but she needed to she you just how daring she can be.

"Scheiße" you run your fingers through your hair as you try to bury the desire to go after the Catalonian and finish what she started.

"How's that will power now?" Caro teased you.

In that moment you regretted confiding in the Norwegian about your feelings for the captain.

"On the verge of being non existent"

"Can we get some cold water for the keeper please" Mapi jokes.

Since that day Alexia wasted no opportunity she had to tease and rile you up. It's as if coming to terms with her scar was the last thing on her list, other than her first game but that was coming soon. She had been given the clear the start training with the ball and when it came to set pieces and ball in motion training she requested that you be in goal because she knew you wouldn't takei it easy on her and that she would have to earn a goal with you in between the sticks.

Weeks pass and soon enough it is Alexia's first game back. The way the crowd erupts as she enters the pitch at the 67th minute is enough to make goosebumps rise to the surface of your skin. It showed just how much this club loves her and seeing a stray tear fall down her cheek shows you what the club means to her.

When the final whistle is blown the team waste no time in celebrating the return of their captain but you choose to observe from a distance. You were still new to the team and you didn't want to intrude on a moment between family because that's what this team was.

As Alexia walks towards you she has a huge smile on her face and you know exactly what she is feeling. Even the way she walked was different, it's almost as if she was lighter.

You open your arms out expecting a short hug but Alexia's arms tighten around you and you feel her tears fall down your neck.

"It's ok, let it out"

She takes a few moment to gather her emotions and with a deep breathe she pulls away to face you.

"I'm back on the pitch. You know what this means"

Of course you did. you haven't been able to think about anything else since the team got told about Alexia's return game.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow at 6"

"That's it?" you knew alexia had a need for control and her knowing only when you'll pick her up sent her inner control freak into panic.

"That's all you need to know for now"

The two of you do a lap around El Johan as you take up the atmosphere. It truly was like nothing else you've experienced before, the support of the fans was unmatched. In the past few months you surprised yourself at the amount of restraint you showed Alexia but in this moment it was worth it. She was fit, healthy and back doing the thing she loved.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas one shot #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni imagine #barcelona femeni one shot #espwnt x reader #espwnt imagine #espwnt one shot

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glassrowboat · 3 months

Text

Silken Shadows (Pt.1). Pantalone.

Summary: You had many customers, many clients. Regulars even. They dragged you along to dinners, to drinks at bars as they chatted about something you couldn't care less about, and to parties of all sorts. All something that came with the job. What you weren't expecting, however, as you stood on the corner of a side walk cursing the chill in the air as you waited for the latest job to come pick you up was a fatui harbinger. Well, you were told it would be a big money job.

Word count: 4300+

Authors note: I'm not sure how long this is going to be, but probably less than fifteen chapters? But someone had to give this old man some love, so I took it upon myself.

Also, the reader is a hired date for anyone who needs specifications.

Links: TBA

Shards of glass sat around him like glistening stars as a pale light streamed in through the large windows of Pantalone's office. Nonexistent constellations were to be found in what was scattered around him in his own personal galaxy. Bits and pieces are as large as one's finger and others as tiny as diamond inlaid in a ring. The only difference being: it wasn't gold encasing a jewel that shined under every twist of the wrist as it reflected a candle's flame, but a wooden floor. One he had taken great pride in picking out once upon after first receiving this office.

Time had scratched its lacquered surface.

How typical.

Another thing he can't control. Just like the natural instinct to grit his teeth so tight, Pantalone can hear them grinding against each other in protest, crying out for some form of mercy.

It made his jaw ache. Yet his lips still twisted into a smile.

They had to.

Even if Pantalone couldn't help but want to physically recoil at his own image, his reflection in the glass at his feet. An aged label with yellowed spots attached to what was left of the bottle, an 817 vintage from Fontaine, the only thing blocking where his narrowed eyes would be in this warped copy.

All the while, one thought kept replaying in his head, repeating like a broken record slotted on a gramophone: that damnable woman.

Signora canceled on him.

Right before a banquet that was supposed to be quite the occasion at that.

It would have given him just the perfect chance to introduce the frosty diplomat, his fellow Harbinger, to a colleague of his. A man just as like minded as Pantalone when it comes to the exchange on mora. A fellow businessman, to put it in simple terms. Someone who also speaks in the turnover of gold from one hand to another.

A man who could prove beneficial to Pantalone had the right opportunity to familiarize himself but man but all the ‘Fair Lady’ had to say, in as arrogant sounding voice as she could muster, for that Pantalone was sure, was that she's being shipped away to Inazuma soon. For the gnosis in accordance with the last meeting's conclusion, of course.

That, however, didn't change the fact that she wasn't leaving right away.

There was time she could use, to leverage if she so wished, but now he was left with a tree that wished to bear no fruit. There would be no sweet taste of a win today, of another deal secured at this rate. What a wasted opportunity.

Not to mention, he was still expected to show up with someone on his arm in accordance with the invite marked with a check right on the box for a plus one.

All that right after La Signora didn't even bother to sit down, to go through the proper greetings and laybe even have tea with him to share this bit of information. Rather, she stormed in as Pantalone was drafting out a contract, unfortunately startling him in the process as the door slammed against the wall behind it. It was enough to have the ink scrawled out under his hand smudge as his hand curled around a black fountain pen at the idea that her uncaring actions would leave a dent in the drywall.

Surprise. It was never an emotion he cared for, but it was all he was being given today. Or at least that's how it seemed.

The floral scent of the ink he specially ordered to refill this pen the last time it emptied out from pages upon pages of tireless work that had led to an ache in his hand was the only thing to sooth Pantalone's otherwise swirling mind as he figured out where to go from here.

That here has led him to Columbina.

Her saccharine smile when he slipped into the music room was familiar, something he was as used to as a well-worn book as she held up a singular finger. Asking for one moment more.

The song on her lips quelled only when she was ready.

Besides, it would be unbefitting to ask her to stop with the nonsense already as her voice rose to the heights of the pure white room. One never cuts off the star of a stage, on or off of it. Columbina had a way of bringing the notes to life, of making any eye believe you could see the sheet music she had long since memorized to the point someone might just believe they could see those ever perfect lines of five weaving around columns all up until Columbina took her final bow.

Pink and black hair covering her face still as his hands clapped together, the metal bands wrapped around his fingers, causing a small ring each time they collided. “Wonderful as always, Damselette.”

“I am always exultant to have a proper audience.”

Her head rose from its low hang with a grace only she could have. Every action she took was akin to a bird flapping its wings to soar among the clouds. Fitting for a dove.

“As much as I would like to sit down and show you proper respect and courtesy, Columbina, I am afraid I am too short of time for such a luxury.”

The event is, after all, tonight at 8 o'clock sharp, and while Pantalone has always heard it's fashionable to arrive late, it was never a practice he appreciated others participating in. He wouldn't deign to be the outlier to such a basic rule when there was no need for such.

He didn't need to arrive late to get anyone's eyes to fall on him in rapt attention. The citizens of Snezhnaya knew what his time was worth. As for those who did participate in such boorish behaviors? Simply put, they were not worth the precious minutes that could be delegated elsewhere.

“First and foremost, are you otherwise preoccupied this evening?” Pantalone asked.

Columbina turned her back to him with ease, fingers fiddling with the sheet music before her as she scribbled something down he could not see. Not that it mattered. If it wasn't the very notes she was just singing, it would be an indent on the piece written in a language far older than he.

“Now, what would you want of me that requires I not be ‘preoccupied'?”

“That Marquess in the West, you and I both know the one, has come to the main city for a short reprieve and is holding an event.” As Pantalone spoke, he stepped further into the room, taking care not to scuff the white floors with his own black shoes. “One that does not require a show of a song, but I'm sure they would not deny it if you offered.”

A gentle series of clicks continued until he was standing beside her.

“So, you want me to act as your substitute plus one since the one you originally planned to invite canceled on you at the last minute. Is that it, Regrator?”

Her tone had Pantalone wanting to click his tongue, but he resisted the urge.

“A regretful circumstance I shall have to amend in the future. If you agree to my proposition, that is.”

“The Fair Lady truly pulled that lavish rug under you. Something I do not see often.”

Pantalone kept from looking down at her, instead keeping his eyes instead fixed on the musician's stand, his gloved finger ran over. It would be lace covered eyes and ribbons galore as usual. Nothing he hasn't seen before at every harbinger meeting or the times they cross paths through the ornate halls of the palace, most of which have him catching the sight of her scuttling into this very room.

The faintest layer of dust now coated his finger that had Pantalone itching to grab the handkerchief tucked away in his pocket to wipe it off.

The Damselette always did tend to scare the maids off.

“As stated before, I am currently lacking time. Your answer would be most appreciated.”

“Oh, right, that.” Columbina mused. “Steak dinners, champagne, maybe even chatter amongst people who are delightful company. Just like my plans for tonight with Arlecchino.”

Of course she didn't lead with that.

That means two possible options off his already lackluster list of those to invite along.

The last words Pantalone was given before he walked out with a bow of his head to the higher ranking harbinger was “I hope you find someone to fill the empty seat beside you tonight.” Only for the song to continue on like nothing happened, like nothing interrupted, like he didn't even come in at all.

He made sure to leave the door cracked open on his way out.

Sandrone was all the same, giving him a no. The only difference was she spit the words out like venom the moment his fist knocked on her workshop's door and she flung it open with a flourish, covered in oil and the finest grinds of aluminum that flew in the air. It had him cleaning his glasses off as he walked away.

Lenses punched between the fine fabric of his handkerchief as he went over what to do from here.

If it wouldn't reflect poorly on his image, Pantalone would just show up alone. Wave it off and say his date was busy. Yet here he is, arm twisted. Social expectations are truly the bind that holds us all as he couldn't simply message the Marquess on the fly with something along the lines of ‘I couldn't dain to bring a date after my plus one canceled on me.’ Signed the Ninth.

If it wouldn't come across as poor care for attention, bringing his most trusted secretary along would be a viable option. That is if that very employee wasn't a married man who was only just rambling about plans to take his partner out for dinner earlier this very day. It was their five year anniversary being married, as he recalled. He had even given the man a gift in congratulations.

Dottore would at least prove to be an entertaining option. One segment or another would likely get stuck along his side, maybe even the one with the pink bow tie, and it looks like he's ready to bite the finger off anyone who approaches.

No, best not.

Little options left. If any.

At this rate, his arm would get stiff as it's tugged and twisted into position.

Well, there's always the place a certain man, a debtor, mentioned last time. His whining was just the perfect pitch that made it hard to ignore as Pantalone's guards tore apart his shack of a house apart in an attempt at finding the funds he was due. Only a measly fifty mora that would prove no use in taking. One can not pay if they can not work as starvation tears them apart from the inside out. The excuse? He went to one of those houses in the area.

Exchange time for a woman's company. Nothing he hasn't heard before. Nothing he isn't familiar with. The Northland Bank served customers of all walks of life.

The name, however, was one that rang a bell in Pantalone's head. One that sold a woman's time over her body.

This is what he has been backed into? Truly?

Still, he called the guard that was stationed by the doors he just walked though, fingers snapping to get this individual's attention as Pantalone told them to find a messenger. The need to tell them to be quick about it would be nothing short of an unnecessary addition. They knew that well enough by now.

Steps filled the hall just as the creaking of loose floorboards did. They had long since needed to be replaced but actually getting around to hiring someone to do that had been waved off time and time again that everyone had since learned to simply live with being woken up in the middle of the night by someone trying to get a cup of water.

Loud and clear with each echo.

Making the hand that wrapped around your arm and pulled you up off the stool, just another thing you expected as a shrill voice cried out to get your attention. Scratched and broken from what was no doubt the cigarettes The Madame might as well switch out for her meals filling your ears while she jabbered about whatever had her coming to you this time.

That being: a job.

It was no wonder then why a wet rag was being shoved into your face, trying to wash- or better yet- scrub off the powder on your face. Messy blobs of green and pink having been painted on your eyelids the same way a crayon would a child's coloring book, only becoming more of a mess to handle at this treatment as your nose scrunched up as the fabric rubbed against you.

“Wash this shit off your face and give it a real try, kid. Don't know why you keep letting the bucket girl apply makeup on you.” That old hag barked out. In as good of a mood as any as she pulled her hand back to finally give your skin some reprieve. “And try to keep yourself lookin’ real good. This client has some big bucks to spend, and I don't need you messing it up like last time.”

“You always know just what to say.” You retorted as you snatched the rag away from her to wipe the eyeshadow off your face properly. Gently.

Even going so far as to lean down to get a proper view from the vanity and its cloudy mirror to make sure there wasn't a speck of makeup left.

“This ain't your usual crowd, kid, but you're going to high tail it out of here in your best dress and meet this guy two blocks from here so some carriage can pick you up.”

“Ahh, one of those guys. I'm on it. And do me a favor and don't bully the ‘bucket girl' while I'm out.”

It wasn't a surprise when the Madame threw a quick “no promises” over her shoulder as she left the room, leaving you to get ready. Brush already in hand as the door slammed shut. Most likely her doing, but you chose to think of it as a simple draft of wind as the bristles brushed through a soft pad of pink.

The same pink of the gloves you currently dawned. Fingers twitching with each passing minute to keep blood pumping through the digits you were breathing on, trying your best to keep yourself as warm as possible while standing at the usual spot for clients that needed to pick a girl up a few blocks away from the Marmeladova house.

Sure, they had their reasons, but it always came across as the clients having no sense of decorum for a freezing lady. A frozen tundra of a nation, yet they still expected you to stand on the street like a hooker trying to call in her five hundred for the night.

How charming.

Not.

It was when you were pacing back and forth, kicking up bits of powdered snow with every step, did the rolling of the carriages passing by on the street lead to one stopping right before you. Wheels turned stock still as the lines behind painted a clear path right to you. It's not an accidental pullover by some temperamental horses then. Though if you only looked, such a thought wouldn't have even crossed your mind in the first place.

A carriage with golden accents, horses with shining leather straps, a coachman in clothing that looked actually weather appropriate, and a Fatui symbol stamped right before you. Like the sign to a haunted house as the other girls drag you inside, claiming it will be fun, only for you to walk out annoyed and grouchy at the lackluster experience.

Something told you this wouldn't end that way.

A footman, or at least you assumed that's what he was when he was wearing the Fatuus emblem and one of those masks you see the soldiers wearing so openly while walking around without a single care in the world besides holding their heads high pulled the ornate door before you open.

A hand held out to help you up along the steps that had a nice coat of snow dusting them only knocked away by the heel of your boot while ducking inside the red velvet walls. Instantly, you could tell it was warmer in here from the moment you sat down. The thing probably insulated for what reason would you put yourself through the agony of the cold when you can simply buy your way out of it?

At least, that felt like a fair comparison as your eyes met those of a man you've only ever seen in the newspapers. Most of which were fished out of the trash from nicer neighborhoods to use as kindling, but that face was unmistakable.

“Lord Harbinger.” You found yourself saying as you greeted the figure before you. Your own words sounded like they were coming from another's mouth as they were drowned out by the curses flying across your mind. Faster than any bird in the sky or whizzing bullet as he greeted you back.

The shock of it all had you a reeling mess, but not enough so to miss the ice tune of Pantalone's voice as he said “A pleasure to meet you, miss.”

In the very least, this would give you a decent idea of where you stood in this dynamic.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Your hand was held out between you both on instinct, hanging there for a moment under the small lantern that lit the carriage with the curtains closed shut. Like a barrier to the outside world.

The shake was strong, sturdy, and his leather gloves did little to help you figure out anything about this man the public didn't already know.

An example being how he'd surely have a writer's bump. A man whose bread and butter is contracts surely knows how to hold a quill. How curious. Not as much, however, as the Lord Harbinger wiping his hand off on his jacket the moment yours left his. A folder occupying the other he was holding out to you.

“Read this over and try your best to memorize the names inside.”

With little to no choice otherwise, you took it from him. The folder failed to bend back under your touch as you opened it, not even when your gloved fingers rubbed the material between them as the names were run over again and again in your mind. Good quality, as he expected, as you took in the long list.

Far too long actually.

“I expect you to remember as much as you can, but I'll be there to assist you all the while.”

Your eyes flicked up to look at him, meeting his gaze over the folder. “Assist me all the while?”

“I am to be attending an event tonight. Do I need to piece out more for you, or can you truly not ascertain things for yourself?”

Something about his smile rubbed you wrong. You were once taught that if someone was truly smiling, out of joy, or some bull along the lines of being a happy person naturally, their eyes would have wrinkles creasing at the sides. His lacked that. Though it was hard to tell exactly if that was the case when they were closed.

But could a smile so freely given from a Harbinger be…? It's best not to finish that thought. He's still your client.

“Don't doubt me just yet. I haven't even had the chance to prove myself.” You said, matching his smile in turn.

“Then please, don't disappoint. First, however,” you could barely catch his eyelashes moving when the wheels started to turn again at the simple rap of his knuckles against the carriage roof.

Whatever that meant would prove little to mull over as you leaned back into the cushions.

You later learned that was him giving you a look, or as close to one as Pantalone could manage behind those thick spectacles of his you were tempted to break as he walked into a dress store, picked something off the rack, and stated it would be what you were going to wear tonight. No input from you, no double checking to see if it fits. Not to mention, the fabric had been irritating you from the moment it adorned your skin.

How you wanted to claim it rested upon your body like silk, but it was more like that one scratchy blanket you always get stuck with as everyone else steals the nice ones.

At the very least, it was pretty. Had a decent range of movement, too, as the Lord Harbinger dragged you along by the arm he interlocked with his as you were met with new face after face.

Some of the names you could recall reading only an hour prior, others not so much.

Giant grins.

Pretty women with ornate hair styles.

Champagne glasses.

The moment you picked one up, Pantalone plucked it from your hands and hissed as low as possible for only you to hear “I am not paying you to drink.”

This was nothing unusual, the event, that is. Pantalone is a whole other story, but you have been to many parties of all sorts during your time. This was just another rich boy party with underhanded remarks and fancy cheeses.

One that dragged on far too long for anyone's liking.

At some point during the night, you just barely caught the richest boy himself telling someone who asked about you that you were just a friend. One that once upon a time knew his parents. How you're only back in town for a short visit, that he couldn't pass up the opportunity to bring you along.

And it kept like that til the point you were tempted to peel the bandages off the back of your heels after they had been slipping on you the past hour. Peeling from your skin like a piece of string on a fine shirt just begging to be pulled. The thought of them still plagued your mind as Pantalone bowed to the same man you were first introduced to that night again, an individual who took no shame in the jewels hanging from his tailcoat and the golden ring with some odd emblem on his pinky. Wishes of a splendid night on both their tongues as the two of you departed.

It was only when you were both back in that carriage, you suddenly have a lot more appreciation for as it gave you a chance to rest your aching feet, did any words pass between you two again.

Pantalone, a man who was short and concise with you, but had plenty to say to those folks in the hall as they stuffed their faces with meat as they all sat around tables covered in cloth the same thickness as the blankets you use every night. Who made it clear before you even stepped past the threshold of the mansion (though it looked more like a cheap attempt at copying the opera house's architectural style) that you would speak only when spoken to. Interrupting the few remarks you did say when it was just the two of you during those sliver of moments someone wasn't coming up to sing his praises.

It's not like you weren't used to being treated like arm candy. Maybe that's why you truly couldn't care less as he sat in the seat across from you without daring to break the silence, to say anything, until you did.

“I was right about you. You are a rather smarmy individual.”

His hand that had been messing with the fabric of the curtain blocking you both away from any prying eyes trying to peek inside the windows came to a stop with a soft sigh from his lips. Pantalone's hands still pulling it taught, the same way you did on a wrinkled shirt to see what it would look like perfectly pressed and ironed when he spoke.

“How does an escort like you even know that word?”

“How does a Harbinger like you end up with no options for a date besides one you have to hire?”

The second the question left you Pantalone's head tilted towards you in such a slow, deliberate manner you knew you should have kept your mouth shut. Unfortunately, knowing when to do that isn't a trait that comes as easily to you as it does others.

“What's your name again?”

You told him, shared it without second thought before you could take a moment to step back and recall he had been the one introducing you to everyone all night. He had known your name but asked anyway.

Well, you'll have to remember that trick for later use.

“It is an honor to properly be introduced to you, Lord Harbinger.”

With a smile, you held your hand out to him, repeating the same action as before. Two can play at this game, you thought as you waited for him to comply, to play along, and take it. And like a fool, even if it was just in good humor, he did.

If he was going to wipe his hand off again this time, you'll give him a damn good reason.

Your grip turned tight, unyielding, to ensure Pantalone couldn't simply pull away. Making sure, just as he might with each mora coin, he pinches between those fingers, that there's no possible chance to let it slip away as your lips pressed to one one of his silver rings.

It was cold against your skin, but no more biting than the words you were expecting as you silently dared him to say something.

Between the rocking of the carriage and the low light of the lantern between you two you couldn't help but notice that was the first time you've seen his eyes all night.

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