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rustedhearts · 2 months

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just friends (roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: you and steve have been just friends for years now. but how long can you convince everyone you're 'just friends' before it becomes a lie? or steve harrington is your super hot roommate and everyone thinks it's stupid you guys aren't dating yet.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the library

tags: roommate!steve, kinda shitty boyfriend!eddie, pining, fluff, angst, casual dominance from our casual dominance king steve, honestly going to try so hard not to make this a series but you know me.

a/n: i've wanted to write roommate!steve for so ages. you can thank a much-needed new girl binge and my tendency to take my frustration out on my mop for this.

The bass-heavy bump of music came at Steve full force before he even stepped out of the elevator. He paused, staring down the door of your shared apartment knowing that the sight that would welcome him would not be pretty.

In the kitchen, you were hunched over the handle of a mop, furiously dragging it over a sliver of tile. Teeth gritted together, face flushed and damp with sweat, hair disheveled and pulled away from your face, a pair of cotton shorts and an old t-shirt rolled up to the shoulders—you were a mess.

You were sad.

"Uh-oh." Steve stepped into the room, calling over the booming music. "What happened?"

You jumped a little, accustomed to the quiet of the apartment on Saturday nights. Steve almost always spent weekend nights at the bar down the street hitting on girls too sweet for him. You usually had until at least 11:30 to do whatever you wanted before some random girl came scampering in, clinging to Steve and giggling as they fumbled to his room.

But he was home early. And no matter how long you'd lived together, or how well he knew you, you still hated being seen like this.

So, you never took your eyes off the mop, scrubbing away a sauce stain on the tile.

"Nothing." You shrugged, flicking wisps of hair out of your eyes.

Steve watched you whirl around to drag the mop toward the bucket again. You stabbed it into the soapy water with a vengeance, nose scrunching with every slosh and splash. Steve leaned against the doorway and quirked a brow.

"Yeah? You're playing your sad music, though."

Your sad music consisted of a handful of hard rock records that most people would consider music for a dive bar—but you only ever played it when you were staving off tears. The louder you played it, the more upset you were.

Steve knew you a little too well.

This comment went ignored as you slapped the mop back on the floor and continued an angered scrubbing. Steve sighed, scratching at his temple. Most of the time, it was best to leave you alone. Sometimes, you needed to talk it out. It took a little coaxing—a pizza and a cold glass of Coke with a straw usually did the trick—but eventually, you'd spill.

And Steve would fix it.

Calm you down, help you figure it out, offer some advice. He gave pretty good advice for someone still struggling to get his own shit figured out.

Steve could tell from the way the song went unsung, the way you huffed every time the mop head flipped, the way you started stomping your foot when you found a stale French fry under the stove—you needed him to step in.

Pushing off the wall, Steve crossed the room and placed his hand over yours on the mop handle.

"Hey. Hey, come on."

You struggled at first, scowling at him as you tugged on the handle. "Stop it."

He sighed again. He was always sighing at you like a disappointed teacher.

"Hey." A little firmer this time, accompanied by a sharp snatch of the handle from your grasp into his. When you dropped your hands and obliged, the furrow of his brow relaxed. "Thank you. Now, why don't you go take a shower. The house is clean enough."

You frowned, wiping at the sweat on your head. "I just—"

Steve pressed his hand flat into the small of your back, steering you toward the door. "Seriously, honey, it's fine. You do stink, though."

That made your lip twitch—a semblance of a smile—with an amused little huff. You took a step toward the door, slippered feet scuffing. You looked over your shoulder toward Steve standing where you left him, still holding the mop.

He waved you off. "Go on. Take a nap, too.”

You nodded, flashing a tight-lipped smile. "Thanks, Steve."

He watched you shuffle away, shoulders slumped and eyes down as you went. He propped the mop against the kitchen counter and shook his head at the mess of cleaning supplies on the table.

When he heard the bathroom door clamp shut and the hiss of the shower head turn on, Steve rushed the front door again.

He opened it a smidge, enough to fit his head in and smile sweetly at the girl waiting in the hall picking at her nails. She perked up, stepping toward the door eagerly.

"Hey," Steve cooed, voice dripping with honey. "I'm so sorry, my roommate got sick all over. I think s-he needs to go to the doctor, so...would you mind if we raincheck?"

The girl—Sarah, as he would recall later on—broke into a concerned pout, clasping her hands over her chest. "Oh my god, that's terrible! You're so sweet taking care of him."

Steve chuckled, a breezy smile on his mouth. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks for understanding."

She tipped her head, adjusting the purse strap on her shoulder. "Of course. Call me when he's feeling better?"

Steve nodded, knowing the phone number in his back pocket would dissolve in the washer in a week, and he had no intention of ever calling her to begin with.

"Yeah, for sure. Night."

"Goodnight."

He waited until the elevator dinged, watching the doors close on her grinning face, before pulling back into the apartment and locking the door. He blew a sigh out of his cheeks, head shaking as he headed toward the hall.

The shower had stopped, and he could hear the soft, wet patters of your feet behind the door when he leaned against the wall beside it. He knocked two knuckles gently into the wood.

"Honey?" he called. "Need anything? Wanna order a pizza?"

He waited, adjusting the hem of his shirt to spread out a wrinkle in the fabric. He knew what the answer would be, but he couldn't always be so obvious. He had to pretend that he didn't know you like the back of his hand, because everyone started telling him how weird it was.

"You've lived with this girl for two years and haven't boned? You're either gay or dumb as a box of fuckin' rocks," is what Max told him when they met for lunch a few months ago.

Everyone said the same thing. His sister, who teased him at birthday parties and summer barbecues that you were always his date for. Sabrina did everything in her power to push the two of you closer together at family events, ensuring your seats were always paired and your activities were always coupled up.

"You look at her like a dog with a bone," she teased last Fourth of July.

But Steve only shook his head, glancing your way where you were helping his mother decorate cupcakes. You were dating some guy in IT at the time. Total fucking nerd. He made you pay for most of the dates.

"Nah...we're just friends. She's got a boyfriend."

We're just friends was probably Steve's most popular sentence in the English language since the day he met you. A pair of college graduates who had no clue what the hell they were supposed to do with their lives, roommate-matched by the apartment complex and so content with each other that you just kept renewing the lease.

When you finally replied to his question, your voice came like a small, pipping whisper behind the door. "Yeah...but with mushrooms this time?"

This time, as if you didn't order a mushroom and sausage pizza every time. Steve smiled, pushing off the wall.

"Okay—"

"And—"

"And sausage, I know. I'll call 'em."

"Okay."

While Steve called the pizza place a few blocks over, you clutched a towel to your chest and padded to your room. You pulled on the softest items you owned and sat on the end of your bed. A long day of cleaning certainly tired you out, but that wasn't what ailed you.

It was the fight with your boyfriend last night at the bar, when he yelled at you for laughing at Steve's jokes even though you always did. He thought you were too close, too "chummy" to be just friends.

Unbeknownst to Steve, we're just friends was one of your most common phrases, too. You should've had it engraved on your forehead at this point.

"Hey." Two knuckles on your door this time before it skittered open. Steve popped his head in and grinned at you. "Wearin' my favorite sweatpants? Must be feelin' better."

You glanced down at the black sweatpants on your legs, snickering softly. Steve thought they hugged your ass perfectly, and loved the way they flared at the calves. The logo right on your left ass cheek was especially beautiful.

When you opted to leave that soft noise as your reply, Steve stepped into the room. He flopped beside you on the bed, springs squeaking shrilly.

"Wanna talk about it?" he asked.

You shook your head down at your lap, rubbing at your eye. You hated crying, and so far today you'd been doing well swallowing them down. Steve had only seen you cry once, and you avoided him for three days after.

Something about vulnerability made you cower.

"Okay...wanna watch a movie?"

You sighed, shifting a little away from him. Steve clocked it with a brow-furrowed frown.

"Steve...you don't have to make me feel better. I'm fine."

His lips parted to reply—most likely in protest—but the door chittered on its hinges once more with the small butted head of your tuxedo cat, Ted.

Steve immediately stood and scooped Ted up, turning to bring him to the bed. He scratched under his chin and brought forth a low humming purr immediately.

Not even cats could resist that pretty boy charm.

"Well, I reckon this lil guy will do a better job of cheerin' you up," Steve cooed, plopping Ted beside you.

A quiet giggle slipped from your mouth as you reached to swoop his tail. "Reckon?"

Steve shrugged, a sheepish grin on his mouth. "Just came out. I turn Southern in a crisis, darlin'."

He was just trying to make you laugh now, and he couldn't help but mirror the sound when it proved effective. Though, it also proved temporary. You soon settled on your side, tugging Ted to your chest with a fading smile.

Steve ran his fingers through his hair, gathering a chunk of it at the top to pull. A stress tick. You tried not to feel guilty for causing it.

"Well...alright." Steve shuffled backward toward the door. "Pizza in fifteen."

You nodded into the pillow. "Okay. Thanks."

Steve lingered a beat too long, eyeing your balled up form on the bed before slipping into the hall. You'd been sad plenty times over the years: breakups, let-downs, missed jobs.

But the guy you were dating now...you really seemed to like him. He was over all the time, practically living here at one point. Steve didn't really understand what you saw in the guy—Eddie. Steve scoffed to himself, head shaking. Stupid name.

You met Eddie at the auto shop where he worked. He gave you a discount on your oil change, and his tire talk was so smooth that you went on a date two days later. Six months later, and things still seemed to be going smoothly despite the pair of you having very little in common.

Usually, you dated harmless little nerdy guys. Steve actually laughed in the face of a five foot eight finance bro who threatened to "hurt him real bad" if he got in the way of your relationship. You dumped him that night, and the pair of you still laugh about it to this day.

But Eddie was...different. Sleeves of dark ink and a chainlink on his belt. A handful of chunky silver rings and another one in his nose. He always clinked in with a nod Steve's way and a hand on your ass, and it seemed that every time he kissed you in front of Steve, he looked him right in the eye while he did it.

Steve didn't like how small you made yourself around Eddie, and he didn't like how much Eddie seemed to enjoy it.

For everyone's sake, he hoped it wasn't Eddie that made you sad. For once, he wasn't sure he'd win that fight.

✶ ✶

There were many things about your behavior that night that concerned Steve.

Number 1: You only ate three pieces of pizza, and he got one small mushroom-sausage with extra cheese just for you.

Number 2: You didn't let Ted in when he scratched at your door, and Steve had to bring him to his own room for bed.

But worst of all.

Number 3: You didn't say goodnight.

So, Steve went to bed with Ted curled at his feet and a lump in his throat. Whatever you were upset about was bad, he could just tell; and everything in him was itching to make it better. He had this terrible, stupid ache to make life easy for you, and it never really went away.

He opened all your jars, refilled all your water bottles, made sure your phone was charged when he saw the little red bar. He bought more of your favorite snacks when he saw them running low, picked up things that "felt like you" when he saw them at the store. You had an abundance of miscellaneous yellow items sitting on your windowsill because you told him it was your favorite color two years ago.

In Steve's eyes, everything yellow in the world belonged to you.

Steve stirred in a half sleep for hours, kicking at his covers and offering murmured apologies to a miffed Ted who meowed at him. His concerns, however, came to a head when the sound of muffled shouting startled him completely awake.

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and tapped the screen, rubbing his eyes clear to read the 1:15. He wondered which couple in the building was fighting this late. His bet was on Jax and Monica in 1F who were always on the outs.

"You think I'm a fuckin' idiot? I see the way he looks at you!"

But that was Eddie's voice.

"I don't understand where this is coming from."

And that was yours.

Steve shot up, fumbling for his glasses in their case somewhere in his nightstand drawer. He shoved them over his eyes, swinging his legs over the bed.

"I'm tired of competing with your fucking roommate."

"You don't—you aren't! Eddie, please, you know we're just friends."

"Spare me. You're a shitty liar. Hey! C'mere, I'm not done talkin'."

Oh, hell no. Pants abandoned, Steve swung his door open with banging force and rushed into the hall.

He found the pair of you in the entryway, Eddie's hand around your arm and your cheeks soaked with tears. You still had your pajamas on, and those little yellow slippers Steve bought for you last Christmas.

Both heads turned when Steve hurried into the room, tailed by a confused Ted butting at his leg.

Eddie huffed, motioning toward Steve. "Oh, great, of course you're here."

Steve braced his hands on his hips, glaring at the raven-haired man. "I live here, dick-wad. Remove your hand."

Eddie ignored him, still wringing your arm out. You cast your eyes away from Steve, ashamed by the state he found you in.

"You live up my girlfriend's ass, Harrington. And I'm kinda tired of you being there all the fucking time."

"Remove. Your. Hand."

"Stop," you sniffled, wiping the tears from your cheeks though it wouldn't do much to hide the pink rims of your eyes. "Eddie, he's my friend."

"If he's gonna be your friend, then we're done."

You gaped up at him, more hot tears bubbling over and stinging your eyes. "W-what? Eddie, that's—"

Eddie shrugged, smug and uncaring. "You heard me."

Steve's eyes moved your way, and he could only stomach the absolute heartbreak on your face for a split second before he was stepping forward.

"Alright," he barked, and then he was shoving the arm Eddie was holding you with. "Let her go, Aerosmith, and get the fuck out."

Eddie let you go, but spun sharply to face Steve. You weren't sure whose glare was more frightening.

Eddie stepped until he was toe-to-toe with your roommate. "You like fuckin' another man's girl? You like my sloppy seconds, you pussy bit—"

Steve might not have been much of a fighter, certainly didn't fare well with a man who lifted cars for a living—but he certainly excelled at being discrete.

Which is how he got a right hook in before Eddie could fight back. Which is also how Eddie ended up on the ground, and unable to stand again for a few moments.

"Jesus, Steve," you scolded, peering down at your boyfriend with wide eyes. “You knocked him out!”

Steve cleared his throat, ignoring the buzzing pain in his knuckles as he swept them through his hair and motioned toward Eddie.

“Hm? Nah, honey, he’s just…he’s takin’ a nap.”

Though still numbed by shock and worry, you couldn’t help the amused snort that rippled through you. Steve’s lip quirked, and he glanced at Eddie when he groaned on the floor.

“Um, well…let’s get you up, bud. Yeah, you’re okay, c’mon.” Steve began talking to Eddie like a child, cooing as he helped him to his feet by the arm.

And maybe he wasn’t nice about walking him to the elevator, watching him crumble to the floor as the doors closed. Maybe the shiner swelling on Eddie’s cheek filled Steve with incredulous joy.

But he swallowed all of it down when he returned to the apartment and found you standing right where he left you. If you were ashamed of your tears this time, it didn’t show. You grew inconsolable, and Steve had no other thought in mind that didn’t involve picking you up and taking you back to bed.

So he did just that, letting you soak his bare chest with tears as he went. When he sat you on the bed, he tipped your head up by the chin and wiped your cheeks.

“He’s not comin’ back tonight, sweetheart, it’s okay.”

Sniffling, you let him dry your tears and pull strands of hair from the sticky residue. “He thinks we were cheating. I t-tried to tell him…that we’re just friends.”

You deflated with a hiccuped sigh, and Steve’s smile was full of pity and pain. He rubbed his thumbs into your cheeks, nodding his agreement.

“Yeah. Just friends, honey.”

Your eyes fluttered with exhaustion, and Steve swallowed thickly. He pinched the edge of your pillow to pull it down, and gently coaxed you down by the shoulders. He pulled the covers up to your chin and plucked Ted from the ground to join you on the bed.

“He ain’t worth your tears, honey. Get some sleep.”

Sniffling again, you nodded quietly. Steve flashed another smile, and stepped back toward the door. As he reached for the light switch, he glanced over his shoulder to find your eyes again.

“Goodnight, Steve,” you whispered.

He shut the light off so you wouldn’t see the way he closed his eyes, like it pained him to hear you with another cry in your throat.

“Goodnight, honey.”

Steve sat awake until 6 a.m waiting for Eddie to come to his senses and return for vengeance. But he never came. In some way, Steve knew that would hurt you even more.

So in the morning when you woke, he greeted you with a handful of sunshine yellow daffodils and your favorite coffee. A soft kiss on the head and a scratch at Ted’s chin on his way out.

“Gonna meet up with a friend today. Call me if you need me, ‘kay?”

He went home with the first girl he met at the bar that day just to get you out of his head, and lied about it when he came home.

Just friends. Yeah, right.

#rolly!#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington au #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington comfort #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #roommate!steve harrington

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hanasnx · 2 months

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branding.

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: jet is aged up if that wasn't already obvious | credit to @xstarkillerx for helping develop this idea as well as giving me the branding with his hook specifically idea WARNINGS: branding | consensual burning and temperature play | less about suggestive and sexual content and more about psychological exploration.

JET has a branding kink. The brain has a funny way of twisting trauma into pleasure, rewiring neural pathways to take control of horrible circumstances and painful memories. Jet’s past with the fire nation and losing everything he knew in one fell swoop meant his mind was forever scarred by fire and what it’s capable of. It bleeds into his sex life whether he's aware of its connection or not.

You lay pliant on his bed of furs, naked and waiting as his large hand strokes down your back, the calluses of his fingertips dragging across and catching on your skin. You prickle with anticipation as he takes his sweet time priming you, his expression especially grim as he takes in the sights of your smooth flesh. It dips when he applies pressure, and bounces back when he eases. Supple and young, as curvaceous as a shapely hillside, virgin skin that you offer up to him.

In the firelight you've never looked more beautiful. Ethereal and quiet, obeying his desires and using your precious body to do it. Guilt creeps up from below his stomach, his sacral chakra clouded by what he's about to do to you. He doesn't care, hovering his right-handed hook into the hearth. The fire licks at the end, encompassing it with its warmth, and its every brushstroke paints the metal gold.

His nails dig into you, scraping down to groove temporary marks, and your whimper quirks his brow. "Can you handle it this time?" he asks, his voice low and kind.

"Mhm." you insist with a nod, your head resting on your piled arms. "Promise, chief, I can handle it." He drags his bottom lip through his teeth

The weight of the metal weighs his arm as he swings it over. The sheer heat radiates off it, as if a little heartbeat pulses the air around it, sunning your back as it nears. "I'm gonna hold you down." he warns, preparing you for his grip on the base of your neck, pinning you to the furs as the air gets hotter and hotter. "Breathe." You do as he says, sucking in a breath until the hook kisses your shoulder blade in a searing hot pain. Squeezing your eyes shut, a squeal is ripped from your throat, crying out over the unimaginable pain. Jet faithfully holds you down, stamping that brand on you for seconds but it felt much longer to you. Tears well and spill just as quickly as they came, your toes curl and flex, anything to release some energy. "Almost... almost, my love, be strong." he coaches you, but it does nothing to quell your expected reaction. Seconds feels like minutes and he releases you, dropping the hook into a bucket of water that splashes over the edge.

Much like the air from before, that little heartbeat has transferred to your shoulder blade, pulsing the pain throughout your body as the heat is trapped inside you. As you cry and writhe, Jet does what he knows to soothe you, running assuaging palms up and down the rest of your body, sensationalizing you with pleasant tingles while you fight your own wound to touch it. Every time you get close, your fingertips brushing the brand, your flinch, causing yourself more pain even though you're trying to comfort it with soft pressure.

Sobs wrack through you, and Jet marvels you proudly. "Now you're a real Freedom Fighter, forever." The shape of his hook gracing your once-virgin skin, and he eyes it hungrily. That burn in his chest is satiated for a little bit longer, until the next time.

#indy: drabbles #ch: jet #jet drabble #jet x reader #jet x fem reader #jet x you #jet x y/n #jet imagine #jet fic #jet fanfic #jet fanfiction #atla jet #jet atla #atla x reader #atla x you #atla imagine #atla fic #atla fanfic #atla fanfiction

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multifandomthoughts · 3 months

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Sadness. Despair. Sorrow. Whatever you’d like to call it. That’s all that was left in your heart after your girlfriend Foo Fighters died. The world had been reset, and you were one of the only ones still present from the previous one. You and a child named Emporio.

Every day you spent without her, more agonizing than the rest. Everywhere you go, you’re reminded of her. Whether it be the giant slurpee cups from the seven eleven, or watching baseball on tv. You know you’ll get over her, you have to.

Eventually, days begin to get easier. Little steps in the right direction, doing more things around the house, and getting outside helped a lot. You won’t ever forget her, that’s for sure, but the pain of her death lessens, even just a tiny bit.

October rolls around, and it’s been an extra long and grueling day. Plopping down on the couch, you flick on the TV. Scrolling mindlessly, you stop on the classic movie channel. The original 1931 Frankenstein. Leaning back, you casually consume the film, not paying much mind to it. Until the titular reanimation sequence.

You don’t know what it is, but your eyes are glued to the screen. From death, comes life. Does this mean that it’s theoretically possible to bring back your girlfriend? Dropping everything, you run to your room to research. Even if it has only 1% chance, you’d do anything to bring back your beloved.

A thought pops into your head, however. What if she isn’t the same person you once knew? What if she’s the exact opposite, or doesn’t remember who you are? Shaking your head you try to push those thoughts to side, and continue to study. The optimism of success pushes you forward.

Onto the next steps, you visit the seaside closest to you. Wading into the ocean with your bucket, you scoop up a bunch of water, smiling widely. There, floating inside your bucket, was a multitude of plankton, visible to the naked eye. If you’re lucky, there’s probably even more plankton, that can’t be seen!

Returning home, you keep the plankton well fed, and in a tank until the next thunderstorm rolls around. Each day without a storm makes you more and more antsy, and you’re wondering if you should take the easy way out and use some form of electricity in the house.

Shaking your head, you decide to wait a bit longer. In your opinion, it would lessen the impact of your reunion, making it less heartfelt. In preparation for your experiment, you set up a makeshift pulley on the tallest tree you could find. This wasn’t Hollywood, not everyone is going to have a gothic lab in their basement.

Finally, the day comes. You can tell that there’s going to be a large storm by the air, it’s thick and heavy. Black clouds cover what once was a vibrant blue sky, for some people this would bring melancholy….but on this day, it brought hope.

Scurrying off to your workspace, you begin to dump the plankton in a large gallon bag. It’s not the most practical or logical way to store the creatures, but you figure that it’s the most convenient, as well as easiest to get out of.

Hoisting it in your arms, you scurry off to the makeshift pulley. Placing the bag of plankton on the makeshift wood ‘table’, you raise the mechanism towards the sky. Sitting below the tree, you hope with all your might that this experiment is a success.

Every time the lightning hits, you look up to discern if the bag is jiggling. Jiggling indicates that the lightning made direct contact, not just hitting the wood. After a few successful hits, you lower the pulley to see what had happened.

Nothing. No movement. Your experiment had been unsuccessful, as tears begin to flood your eyes. It was heartbreak all over again, but this time it was much more agonizing. Your sobs only get louder and louder, unaware of the sudden movement in the bag. Throat raw, eyes red, you only discover the sight in front of you once saltwater splashes directly on you.

Looking down, the colony of plankton had formed into the non-humanoid shape you knew and loved. As it squirms and attempts to get out, you stare at it, dumbfounded. Tearing the bag open, the creature slides out of it like grease on a wheel. They stare up at you, tilting their head as if they remember you.

“What happened to me?” They ask, and before they can receive an answer, you hug them with enough might to crush them. After getting that out of your system, you begin to explain to them how the world had been reset and that you were the only one to survive it.

Foo Fighters looks at you with what seems to be sorrow, and brushes a strand of hair out of your face. “Well, I’m glad that I’m back…to feel human again, to spend time with you.” Smiling widely, you can feel tears stinging your face. But this time, they’re happy tears. Something with a less than one percent chance of success, actually happened. As you cry, you can feel a slimy sensation coat your face.

Glancing over, you see Foo Fighters gently kissing your cheek and reaching their arms around you for a soft hug. Wiping your eyes, you look back into their eyes. Taking a deep breath, you suggest:

“I can’t wait to make a bunch of new memories with you. I love you so much, and I missed you so much…How about we find you a body, hm?” With that, you carry your reanimated girlfriend towards your home, to plan for the next steps, whatever they may be.

#jjba #jjba x reader #stone ocean #stone ocean x reader #foo fighters x reader #jojo’s bizarre adventure x reader #jojo’s bizarre adventure

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sara-scribbles · 2 years

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Pinky Promise?

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Azul Ashengrotto/GN!Reader Other Characters: Epel Felmier, Jade Leech Word Count: 4,942 Summary: A young Azul forms a bond with a human. They make the promise to meet at Night Raven College when they're older. Six years is a long time and people change. Note: Just something I wrote from a friend's idea about being friends with Azul that devolved into this. It's more friendship with Azul with maybe a hint of a crush. Warnings: None but there is angst

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At the age of eight going on nine, the world is yours to explore. Your parents had dropped you off at your grandparents’ beach house. Your first time at the beach in a very long time, you are determined to explore every inch of the beach and collect as many shells for your budding collection.

Armed with your trusty bucket, shovel, towel, and sunscreen, you’re ready for your big adventure. Your grandparents bid you farewell with the warning of being wary of strangers. Running down to the beach, you notice not many people are there. Not that you mind as it means more to yourself.

First activity is to make a sandcastle. You’ve seen many pictures of amazing sandcastles and want to try your hand at it. Of course you know yours won’t be as big as the ones the adults make. Using magic does make it easier to create towering structures. However your magic isn’t much, so you stick with the old fashion way.

You pour sand in your bucket with a little sea water. Using the bucket as a mold you easily make three “towers” before sculpting them with your hands. You stick on small pieces of broken shells and rocks as decoration. This activity keeps you busy for an hour or so before you’re satisfied with your majestic, if not a bit lopsided, castle.

Rubbing your hands together to get rid of the extra sand, you reapply your sunscreen before deciding to search for shells. You scour along the beach for anything that catches your eye. Any shells that you find go into your bucket. Smooth, rigid, large, small, flat, round. They all go into the bucket with a plonk.

You find one particular beautiful shell. It’s small, barely the length of your longest finger. It has a beautiful spiral design that tapers into a thin point. The small hole where a hermit crab should be is empty. You wonder if you could make it into a necklace to wear. Placing it in your bucket, you wander over to the shallow pools.

Watching small crabs walking around the bottom of the pool, you hear a distant cry. Curious you follow the sound. It becomes more obvious that it’s someone crying. You can also make out other voices. You notice a group of children around your age bobbing in the water. They surround a raised sandbed.

As you wade through the waters, you can finally make out what the other kids are saying. And it’s not very nice.

“Come on ugly!”

“Look at him crying like a baby!”

“Will he ink? Ewwww!”

The kids finally seem to hear you splash your way over because they all stop jeering. Their eyes widen comically large. “You shouldn’t bully people! That’s wrong!” you shout.

“A human! Run or we'll be eaten!”

You watch in awe as they duck under the water. You see a few tail fins splash before they disappear. You had heard of merfolk before and how they lived in the Coral Sea. However, you had never seen any until now. Your attention is drawn back to the lone figure on the sandbed, who continues to sob.

Kneeling on the sand, you pat the top of his head. “Don’t cry! They’re gone.” The boy still sobs in his arms. You do your best to comfort him by patting his head. You recall your parents doing that when you were upset.

After a while, he seems to run out of tears as he hiccups. He finally looks up at you with bleary red eyes. You give him a big smile, revealing your missing front tooth. “Better?”

He nods slowly. Wiping his nose with his arm, he regards you cautiously. “A-are you gonna eat me?”

Your nose wrinkles. “No! I don’t eat people.”

“Oh…”

“I’m (y/n)!” You hold out your hand, remembering this is how adults greet each other.

He cautiously takes your hand and gives a weak shake. “A-Azul.”

Beaming, you shake heartily. “Why were those kids being mean to you?”

He looks away sniffling. “It’s because I’m an ugly octo-mermaid. They think I’m gross and worthless.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Well they’re wrong. I think you're cool looking!” Your eyes sparkle. “Your skin is such a pretty color like violets! And I bet it’s handy having eight extra arms to do multiple things at once!”

Azul’s face color a darker shade of purple at your praises. “Y-you think so?”

Nodding, you poke his cheek. “And your cheeks are soft like mochi! You’re very cute, I just wanna hug you!” You laugh as he pouts, his cheeks puffing up.

Seeming to forget about the bullies, Azul peers down in your bucket. “Are you collecting shells?”

“Yup! I wanna make a collection. Grandpa told me you can make jewelry out of seashells, so I’m looking for the prettiest ones.” Pointing at the houses in the distance that overlook the beach, you inform him, “They live in the light blue house. I’ll be here all summer, so I hope I find a lot!”

He shyly asks, “Do you want play together?”

“Yeah!” You’re eager to have a friend. Plus Azul seems nice.

He glances at the water. “I have to go home, but I can meet you here tomorrow?”

“Okay! It’s a deal.” You hold out your pinky. The boy hooks his small pinky with yours. It’s the start of a beautiful friendship.

---------

You spend your first summer playing with Azul. He shows you the many small shallow pools with different sea life. He takes you to safe places that aren’t too deep for you to swim. He tells you all about the Coral Sea, and you listen in rapture.

You teach him to build sandcastles, which go much better when there’s two people. Sometimes you’ll bring a snack with you to share with him. You find he really likes fried food, so you try to bring a treat every once and awhile. You tell him about your home as he’s never been beyond the Coral Sea.

It’s very much a summer you’ll never forget. But as all fun times must come to an end, you find yourself with only a day left.

Floating in the water, you stare up at the beautiful sky filled with white fluffy clouds. Azul bobs in the water near you. You point to one cloud. “That looks like a jackalope.”

“What’s that?”

“Uh…a rabbit with horns! I read about them in a book once.”

Azul squints as he stares at the same cloud. “It kinda looks like a sea bunny.”

“Those exist?!”

“Yup. They’re kinda small, white with black spots and two black ears,” he explains.

“Ohhh!”

After more pointing at clouds, you decide to dry off. Sitting on the towel you placed near the water, you sigh. “I’m leaving after today.”

Still floating in the water, Azul droops. “...”

“But I’ll be back next summer!” You try your best to sound cheerful. In honesty you don’t want to leave Azul.

“O-okay.” His voice wavers.

Patting the pockets of your jacket you had left with your towel, you find what you’re looking for. “I want to give you something, Azul. Close your eyes!”

Coming closer to shore, he closes his eyes. You place the necklace around his neck with a pleased smile. “Okay, you can look!”

It’s the small shell you found on your first day. Your grandpa had drilled a small hole in the shell and threaded a leather cord through it. Though you love the shell, you want Azul to have it. After all, he is your dear friend.

Azul holds the shell in his hands, his eyes gleam in awe. “R-really your g-giving this to m-me?” He looks close to tears.

Wrapping your arms around him, you give him a hug. “Yup! You’re my friend, Azul. And it’s also a promise that even when I’m not here, I’ll always be with you.”

He clings to your form crying. “T-thank you!”

Before you leave, you make another pinky promise to see him again next summer.

---------

At the age of eleven, the world doesn’t look as large as before, but you don’t mind because you have Azul. Every summer you spend it with your grandparents at their beach house. Every summer since you were eight going on nine, you spend it with Azul. You look forward to that time.

However things are changing, you know it. Behind the hushed arguments your parents have when they think you’re asleep, you know your home is falling apart. Behind the sad, pitying looks your grandparents give you when you come to stay, you know things won’t stay the same. Yet, you forget it all when you spend time with Azul. Because in your little bubble with the octo-mermaid, everything is okay.

“Hey, have you heard of Night Raven College?” you ask Azul as you soak your feet in the water. It’s colder than usual, so you opt to just relax on the sandbar while Azul floats nearby. You had given him a book to read, which he seems to enjoy, though he makes sure it doesn’t get wet.

He looks up from the book, eyes squinting. “Yeah. Why?”

“You should consider getting glasses, Azul. Your nose is basically buried in the book. I don’t think it’s good for your eyes.” You frown at him having mentioned this a few times already.

He only sighs. “I’ll look into it. I promise.”

You give him a stern look before returning back to the main topic. “I’d like to go there. Though I hear it’s only for mages who are talented. So I guess I’ll have to work super hard to get in.”

“I’m sure you can,” he says confidently. In Azul’s mind there’s nothing you can’t do.

Sitting up straighter, your eyes sparkle with an idea. “We should both go! That way, we can be together even after summer!”

He perks up at the idea. “Do you think I can make it?”

“Of course you can. You’re so smart and hard working, Azul. Be more confident in yourself.” You’re already imagining you two at NRC. “We’ll be able to have class together and eat together! It’ll be a lot of fun!”

Azul nods as he’s already trying to calculate everything he needs to do. The bullies have stopped bullying him mostly. And he does have two moray mermaids who he talks with during school. He’s already started developing his unique magic. “We’ll have to work hard for the next five years. It would be best to study everything possible. They probably want a well rounded student.”

You’re glad to see him getting excited. He almost doesn’t notice the sad tilt of your smile. Almost. “Is something wrong, (y/n)?”

Looking away, you find interest in the sand. “My parents have been fighting a lot. I think they hope I don’t notice, but it's hard to ignore when they’re fighting at night. I think they’re gonna get a divorce…”

Azul swims to the shore while placing the book down on your towel. He grasps your hand and gives it a squeeze. “I’m sorry.” There’s not much he can do. So he pats your head while getting sea water all over you.

Snorting, you try pushing his hand away. But the teasing smile on his lips tells you he won’t stop until you’re smiling. Laughing, you relent and allow yourself to be patted. “Thanks, Azul.”

He still wears the necklace you gave him all those years ago. He stops patting your head. “I can’t do much about your parents, but if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.”

“Yeah…” You fiddle with your own shell necklace that Azul had gifted you the year after you had given him one. It’s a beautiful nautilus shell with orange stripes all along the outside. “I don’t think I’ll be coming back here,” you confess after a moment.

Azul’s hand tightens around yours. You continue, “My grandparents are getting old and I heard they were planning to sell the summer house before going to a retirement community. So this looks like it’ll be my last summer.”

You two remain silent. Azul holds your hand with a death grip. You look at him to see that he’s trying to hold back tears, though some have already leaked out of the corners of his eyes. Reaching forward, you wipe them off his face.

Finally he speaks. “We’ll meet at Night Rave College.” He holds out his pinky.

Grinning, you hook your free pinky with his. “It’s a promise!”

---------

As you suspect that summer is your last at the beach house. You spend your days being shuttled between both parents. You try your best to study hard for NRC. However, with the fighting and the constant tug-of-war for you, you're unable to focus. When the time rolls around for those who got into the school to leave, you remain where you are.

Disappointment tastes bitter in your mouth. You’re unable to let Azul know that you won’t be there with him. There’s no doubt in your mind he got in on the first try. He’s brilliant and hard working. Gripping the nautilus shell, you vow to block everything else out and focus. You won’t allow yourself to be distracted. Not this time.

So when the black carriage comes to pick you up, you’re ready to go. A year late, but it doesn’t matter. You’ll see Azul. Finally.

You stand in front of the magic mirror, proud you’re there after working so hard. The mirror sorts you into Pomefiore. You’re a bit taken aback but go with it. It’s not like your house determines who you hang out with. All the while, you look for Azul but don’t see him among the upperclassmen.

After settling down in your room, you leave the dorm to explore the school. A bit of your childish wonder still remains. You observe each statue of the seven, examine each classroom, and walk around the halls. It’s all a wonder to you. You’re too busy focusing on looking around you that you nearly collide with another student.

“Hey!”

“Sorry!” you apologize immediately while noting the student is a boy in your dorm. He’s very beautiful with soft features. The glare he throws at you doesn’t do much to scare you.

“Maybe don’t have your heads in the clouds,” he admonishes.

You shrug. “How can I not? I dreamed of coming here for so long, I can’t believe I’m here.” Tossing him an easy grin, you introduce yourself. “I’m (y/n), a first year.”

“Epel Felmier. Also a first year.” He seems to loosen up at your easy attitude. “So we’re both in Pomefiore…”

“You make it sound like a death sentence,” you snicker.

He sighs. “I wanted to be in Savanaclaw. They’re all so strong looking, I thought I could become like that.” He bemoans his fate as you two walk to the dining hall.

“I don’t really care which dorm I was put into. I just wanted to get here.” You pile food on your dish. “I made a promise with a friend to go to NRC with him. I’m a year late, but I made it!”

“Who’s your friend?” You two sit down away from the other students.

“His name’s Azul. He’s from the Coral Sea.” You look around but still don’t see him. “I haven’t seen him for six years, but I’m sure I’ll recognize him when I do.”

“Is that something he gave you?” Epel points at the nautilus necklace peeking out of your uniform.

You nod as you take it out to show him. “It’s something I’ve had for a while. It might sound sappy, but it’s like a part of him is with me.”

Epel grins. “It is sappy. But nice.” The two of you share a laugh as you tuck the necklace back under your shirt.

As you and Epel chat, you find yourself enjoying the conversation. Despite his bristly personality at first, he’s alright. You learn of his strong dislike for when people mistake him for a girl, his desire to be more manly, and his family’s apple farm.

The two of you head back to the dorm. “First day of class tomorrow, I’m so nervous.” You’ll have more time to find Azul hopefully.

“What class do you have first?”

“Potions. You?”

“Flight. I get to meet Ashton Vargas!” Epel’s eyes sparkle. “I aspire to be physically fit like him,” he explains when you look at him quizzically.

“Huh. Well, good luck tomorrow.” Giving him a wave, you head to your room. You fall asleep the moment your head touches your pillow.

---------

It’s about three weeks into the school year, and you still have no luck finding Azul. Perhaps it wouldn’t be as easy as you first thought. The school is quite large and there are a number of dorms. Not only that, but you find yourself being buried in school work. The professors pile on work after work. You find yourself spending more time in the library or studying in your room. The few times you have to breathe, you’re sleeping as you’re too tired to do much else.

You and Epel lament at the workload. At least you have someone to bemoan your fate with. Epel excels in flying class. The few times you’ve seen him fly, he’s so graceful on a broom. You’re not great but at least you do better than some; you manage to avoid falling off. You do well in the history of magic as you find it fascinating. Where most would be snoozing, you were carefully writing down notes and asking questions. Sometimes you would forget about finding Azul as classes took up most of your thoughts.

It’s during midterms when you finally have your fateful encounter.

Students are moaning and groaning about possibly failing the midterm. You’re mostly confident you can pass in all classes except Alchemy. It’s one of those classes you struggle in with the calculations and whatnot. It makes no sense!

“I’m gonna fail this…!” you cry out in frustration.

Epel glances over from his own studying. His face scrunches up. “Alchemy…bleh!”

“Yeah but it’s a bleh I have to pass.” You bury your face in the textbook. “Make it make sense!”

“Hey,” Looking up, you see two other Pomefiore students. “Are you struggling with Alchemy too?”

An eyebrow goes up. “Yeah?” You don’t know the two nor have you ever talked to them.

“Well what if we told you about a study guide that can help you pass?” They both look eager.

“Sounds too good to be true,” you scoff.

One holds his hand over his chest. “I swear it’s true. I heard it from a second year. He got a study guide from this first year, and aced his midterms. And that first year is now the head of the Octavinelle dorm.”

The other one nods. “Yeah, all you have to do is sign a contract and the study guide is yours.”

Rolling your eyes, you can’t believe what you’re hearing. “Sounds even fishier than before. Why would I sign a contract for a study guide? What’s in it for the other person?”

The two scratch their heads. “We’re actually not sure. The upperclassman said we have to go to him to find out. But we’re kinda scared of the two sophomores who work there…”

Epel snorts. “What’s so scary about sophomores?”

“Well to start they’re both super tall with scary sharp teeth. One of them likes to squeeze people until they pop!” the girl explains, hands waving around wildly.

You wave them off. “I’m not interested in selling my soul for a study guide.”

“Suit yourself.” They both turn to leave the library. “Damn it! We gotta meet with Azul in three minutes!”

Your ears perk up when you hear the name. “Wait! I’m coming with you.”

“Huh? I thought you didn’t want to sell your soul?”

“I…there’s something I’m curious about.”

Following the two students to Mostro Lounge, you’re taken aback by the cool and jazzy atmosphere. You had heard about the lounge but never had an opportunity to visit. You see a number of different students sitting in booths sipping drinks, eating delicious looking food, and having a good time.

“Welcome to Mostro Lounge. My name is Jade. How can I help you?” a smooth, almost eerie voice asks.

You have to crane your neck at the very tall looking student. He gives you all a closed eyed smile. You wonder if he’s one of those scary sophomores they had mentioned. There is something chilling about him. His dual colored eyes seem to pierce right through you.

“W-we have a m-meeting with A-Azul A-Ashengrotto,” the boy manages to stutter out.

He checks a list and nods. “Yes, his three-o-clock.” His eyes dart over to you. “I was informed it would be two people…”

Clearing your throat, a lie slips easily from your tongue. “They were telling me about this study guide, and I’m afraid of failing Alchemy, so I thought I’d come along.”

He smiles widely, revealing sharp teeth. “I’m sure Azul won’t mind. Please follow me this way.”

As you follow behind them, your heart pounds in your chest. You want to believe that this Azul is your Azul. But you also don’t want to believe it because it sounds like your Azul has decided to start some shady business dealings. The image of the innocent octo-mermaid from your childhood is starting to blur. You hope you’re wrong and that this Azul just happens to share the same name.

He leads you to a back office that upon first look is very fancy. You notice the rather large safe behind the desk. It’s a nice office as it’s made to make one feel nervous but also important enough to get a meeting. You also don’t miss the figure sitting at the desk, hands folded neatly in front of him.

Though he’s no longer in his octo-mermaid form, you do recognize him as your Azul. He’s changed a lot in the six years since you last saw him. The innocent look in his eyes has been replaced with a calculating stare. Gone was the soft smile, replaced with a cold smirk. He at least listened to you and got glasses.

He doesn’t notice you just yet as you linger behind the other two students. Jade introduces everyone to him. “You’re three-o-clock, Azul. Oh and they brought an extra guest who’s curious about your offer.”

As the two students move to sit down, you meet his gaze. His eyes widen a fraction and you notice his hands tighten a bit. But he composes himself and quickly focuses on the other Pomefiore students. You quietly take the seat brought by Jade and sit on the edge.

“So, you’re interested in my study guide?” he asks, his tone cool and smooth. Nothing like the sweet, soft voice you knew.

The boy nods. “Yeah, we heard you helped a bunch of students pass their midterms.”

“Of course, who am I to not help a poor unfortunate soul?” He produces two contracts with a dramatic flourish. “As you can see, part of the contract requires you to complete a certain stipulation. As long as you score within the top 50 for that class, you won’t owe me a thing.”

They barely read the contract as they’re too focused on listening to Azul. You lean over and read the finer details of the contract. As you read, your mood sours. A sour taste fills your mouth as you carefully go over everything.

“If you are unable to score within the top 50, you will be required to work for Monstro Lounge until your graduation. Oh, and I get to keep that special ability or trait you offer as collateral until then as well,” he finishes explaining.

They both seem a bit hesitant so he adds, “As long as you use my guide, you are bound to get at least a 90%. A good score I would say.” He pushes his frames up as he smiles at them. Not once has he looked at you.

“Well…that doesn’t sound so bad!” The girl quickly signs the contract.

The other student follows suit while muttering, “That other guy isn’t working so it must be easy to make it to the top 50.”

Once the contract is signed, Azul takes them back and carefully places them in a draw. “Wonderful! Jade will lead you out and give you the study guides.”

The tall one comes back immediately as if summoned, and gestures for them to follow him. When you don’t move, he gives you another polite smile. “Please come this way.”

Gripping the arms of the chair tightly, you shake your head. “I still have something to discuss. Right, Azul?” You stare directly in his eyes, which he quickly averts.

Coughing, he waves Jade off. “You can take those two.”

He seems a bit curious but leaves the office with the two in tow. The door closes with a dreaded click. Now it’s just you and Azul. You don’t say anything as you stare at him. You take in everything. He occasionally glances at you but quickly looks away.

You speak up first. “So, this is what you’ve been up to…”

“...(y/n) I-”

“What is this Azul?” You cut him off in anger. “You’re offering such shady deals to students that I know will most likely fall in your favor. They might not have read the contract but I did. And I know it’s impossible to get the top 50 in a class, especially if you’re offering this deal to a lot of students! Why would you do this!? Why are you exploiting people?!”

He’s taken aback by your sudden rise in tone. His mouth opens and closes a few times before it snaps shut with a click. You want to reach over the desk and hold his hand, but you resist the temptation. Instead your expression softens and you lower your voice.

“I know I haven’t seen you in years. But what happened to the sweet Azul I knew?” You want to find the Azul you knew, but it’s difficult to imagine the person in front of you as your best friend.

His expression darkens as he clenches his jaw. “The old Azul was a crybaby who could never do anything on his own. I’m better now! I have power that I never had before. No one looks down on me! Isn’t this a good thing, (y/n)?”

It’s your turn to be surprised. The way he talks about his former self is as if he wants to forget. “It’s not if you’re the one using people! You’re better than this!”

Azul’s gaze is icy. “So you prefer when I was a crybaby no one respected?”

You jump up from your seat. “What? No! You were never a crybaby to me, Azul. You were my best friend, who showed me the wonders of the ocean. I’ve always believed in you.”

He regards you coolly. “I’ve finally shed aside my past, (y/n). If you can’t accept me for who I am now, then I’m not sure where that leaves us.”

Your eyes burn with tears and you have to swallow a few times to stop the lump in your throat from forming. “How can I accept someone who is willing to use others for their own gain?”

Azul looks away, his hands clenched at his side. “Then I guess we have no other business to discuss.”

Your hand finds the nautilus shell you’ve worn for so long; it’s warm from being against your skin this entire time. It’s worn from constant wear, from long nights of holding it in your hands. You wonder if Azul still has the shell you gave him. Or did he shed it like everything else in his past?

“You know,” you say with a humorless laugh, “I worked hard to come here so I could be with you. It was our promise, and I was hellbent on keeping it. But I realize now how childish it was.”

Placing the nautilus shell on his desk, you want to take it back. But you can’t. The past is the past; he’s made it abundantly clear. Holding on to it will only hurt. Azul looks at what you slide over and nearly loses a grip on his cold demeanor.

“You might as well throw it away with the other one,” you say bitterly. You leave the office without looking back. The door slams with a finality.

Out of the office and back in lounge, the breezy jazz music does nothing to lift your spirits. You ignore the looks from the two tall sophomores. You realize they’re twins but quickly focus on leaving. You never want to step into that lounge for as long as you're here.

When you return to the library, Epel can tell from your face that you’re unhappy. However, he doesn’t ask for which you are grateful. You bury yourself in your textbook, trying to forget everything that transpired.

---------

In the privacy of his office, Azul remains in his seat with his chair facing the door. He runs his thumb over the surface of your shell. Underneath his own shirt lies the shell necklace you made him so long ago. Those nights when he was frustrated, he would look at it. It reminded him of your smile, your laughter, your constant support. It reminded him of the promise to meet at NRC again. With as much as he wanted to cast aside his past, you are not something he could ever let go.

But it seems the choice has been made for him. He can only stare hollowly at the nautilus and wonder if his choices are the right ones.

#twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto #twst azul #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #reader insert #scenario

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 3 years

Text

The Day the Ocean Erupted

Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Angst, Hurt/Comfort Warnings: Allusions to death, drowning, pain, storms, thunder, rain

~ * ~

You remember the day the ocean erupted.

You’d been in your office, at 2 PM exactly, pen in hand and ink spotting your fingers, the culprits a stack of papers in the upper corner. The sun had filtered through your window and casted shining streamers on your desk as you wrote, typical of Liyue’s golden summers. You tapped your pen against your chin- how to phrase this next sentence? Should you focus on one or two types of silk? You hummed contemplatively, then scribbled a few more words. Sturdiness- that was important to mention in a report, especially one about something elegant like silk. The room filled with a comforting silence as you wrote word after word on the paper in the delicate warmth of the sun.

The first drop came and went without attention. But it was soon followed by another. And another. And another, until the sky was shedding all its tears into the streets and ocean of the city. Your pen had fallen from your grasp with a resounding clatter as you stood to peer outside the window, your eyes narrowed. Rain? In Liyue? Now? It was ridiculous.

Then something burst out of the ocean and you fell backwards in shock, pushing yourself away from the window despite being on one of the upper levels of the harbor. You rushed downstairs and pushed your door open, catching glimpses of an enormous serpentine creature rising from the waters as people rushed up and down the streets in a panic. The rain poured down in buckets, drenching everything and everyone, and all around there’s a frenzy of screaming, shouting, yelling, the same phrase reworded a thousand times, The Fatui did this, it’s the Fatui’s fault, the Fatui are to blame, and you could only think of one thing- your associate, your acquaintance, your companion.

Your friend.

Childe. Where was he? Vanished to the Golden House, they told you, but not as Childe, as Tartaglia, the Harbinger. For business, he said.

But soon you were swept up with the waves of screaming, and the thought had been lost.

That was weeks ago, when the Traveler had harnessed the power of the Adepti and defeated the old god Osial, with a final blow from Lady Ningguang’s Jade Chamber to seal him in the sea. The entire nation held its breath as Fatui activity wavered, dropped, then fizzled out completely. Life returned to normal, the seasons rolling by like a sigh of relief as reassuring whispers spread the news that the Fatui were finally, finally stopping their irritating interferences with the harbor.

You finish your final words and set your pen down, a thoughtful frown prominent on your face. You’ve never really been affected by the Fatui. For the most part they simply existed, a rumored plague on the Liyue Qixing with their endless meddling, but to you they were simple guards standing near doors and on the docks. On occasion when you had to wait there you would make conversation, to which most of them would respond to either in earnest or slightly tense surprise. For all their supposed horrid tendencies and practices and nosiness, you had found that many of the Fatui were, quite simply, people; people from a different nation and far away from home. People who had their own interests and likes and dislikes. People who had their own reasons and dreams and realities.

People who had all vanished when the last ripple in the ocean had stilled. And among them, your friend Childe, the Eleventh Harbinger Tartaglia. He was the only Fatui you would really consider a friend, the others being mere acquaintances. He was always teasingly kind to you, offering to get you a meal or asking to spend some offtime together. You, ever-suspicious, had often refused, but he was persistent and determined to chip down your walls one by one. And when they shook and crumbled your friendship had blossomed, despite the odd melancholy in his eyes whenever he looked at you, a question you never knew the answers to.

All this he was. But he was gone now, you suppose, following the tall, elegant woman you had seen exiting the Northland Bank to the mysterious depths of Inazuma. He looked so exhausted, outwardly appearing as tired as you sometimes felt inside, and your brow pinches.

You sigh and set your pen to the side before rising from your chair, cursing yourself for contemplating old memories. You don’t expect Childe to return anytime soon, if ever, so perhaps some thoughts are best left packaged in their pretty boxes scattered around the attic of your mind. The door swings open as you slip on your coat- it’s chilly outside, and you walk to the teashop for a new blend and distraction from the conflicting turmoil in your head.

The rain begins just as you hurry back home, having forgotten your umbrella in a moment of carelessness. Liyue’s winters, while cold and biting, never froze the storms that encroached almost every other day, instead letting icy droplets of slush fall on people’s backs and clothes. The clouds shield the few stars in the sky from view, blocking out the moon and turning the raindrops an inky black. You shove your door open and immediately shut and lock it again with a sigh of relief, shaking out your clothes and rubbing your chilled hands together. Your breathing is the only sound in the house, and your bones soon settle with a deep chill as the pressing quiet seems more and more foreboding. You cock your head to the side and hear an ever-so-faint rustling sound, and you pick up your weapon before making your way down the hall.

When you reach the living room you blink in surprise. Unlike what you expected, nothing is broken, not a dish is out of place, no drawers are flung open and riffled through. Nothing is wrong, nothing is out of order, your limited vision tells you, but a cold breeze sends goosebumps down your arms and you make your way over to the ajar window, very nearly bumping into furniture several times. You fumble with the latch and pull the window shut, dragging the curtain closed as if to cover the rain with elegant patterns and cloth, and for a few moments, you listen to the steady pour outside as it creates a chiming melody on the roof and glass.

Something breathes next to you. You whirl away in shock, clutching your weapon tightly. Something is here with you, watching you across the room, observing your every move as you hurry to light a match for some semblance of sight, the lamps in your house completely useless right now. The match strikes and connects, a yellow flame bursting to life, flickering like a firefly. You hold it up and come face-to-face with a single eye. Enormous and pearly, it gleams softly in the darkness, although whether it is blue or purple you cannot say. Sharp, plated red armor surrounds it, mask-like and curling into twin horns. The creature’s skin is also armored and bony, shades of purple and black with occasional splashes of red or silver, covered by a pair of translucent, sparkling wings like the deepest sea. It towers over you, claws and teeth razor sharp even in the persisting gloom, and you gasp and stumble away in terror. The starry wings and deep, rich colors, and the feeling it emanates, of being crushed and drowned by shining waves…

An Abyssal creature, some sort of monstrous beast from the depths of your world. It must be.

You back away from it, your chest tight with fear and the thought of death, of dying at the hands of this monster, holding your weapon so tightly you fear it might crack in your grip.

You’ve never been a fighter, only practical enough to keep a weapon you could use nearby. Between you and the creature, the creature would win with a simple swipe of its claws, and you would bleed out on the floor until you didn’t exist anymore, just another body lost to the infinite ocean.

But there is no attack, no clashing, no burning, searing pain, only a soft, sad whimper. You open your eyes and see the creature reaching out to you, crawling across the floor like standing causes it agony, as it lets out a broken and desperate wail. You take a step back again, then a step forward, your fear seeping out of you. Holding the match higher, you lean forward and squint, dots of color bleeding into the environment.

Ginger. Wondrously fluffy ginger hair, although it's wet with rainwater, and a single streak of white like snow.

You know who, and you say who before you even think who, uttering out it’s, his, name in a hushed whisper.

Childe.

Your weapon forgotten, you stand shellshocked in a corner of the room, so still and frozen that Childe himself attempts to rise to his feet, only to fall back to the ground with a pained cry, a sound that snaps your thoughts like shattering ice as you rush to support him. He scratches his claws on the ground, hiccupping, sobbing, whining tearfully at a pain you can’t see. You place a hand on the side of his face and he leans into it, almost slumping to the ground as he brings his hand up to cover your own. He stares at you, pained and suffering, with the same melancholy as before, a melancholy you now understand means I cannot love you, even though I so wish to, it is forbidden by fate and stars, and your heart breaks.

You pick up a distant rumble of thunder, and Childe yelps in fear, wrapping his claws around you and pressing his face into your side, trembling. Your fingers stroke through his hair, running down the sides of his face and horns, and his sobs die to labored breathing as exhaustion finally overtakes him and lets his body relax.

You remember the day the ocean poured down from the sky. It was now, in a dark room with a pinprick flame of light, holding the consequences of the Abyss.

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songbirdstyles · 3 years

Text

dad!harry taking his baby to the beach

so basically someone sent me an ask for dad harry at the beach with his bub and i fell in love with it! unforeseen circumstances caused the ask to disappear but.. here it is!!

At a mere 2 years old, your daughter has, evidently, not been to the beach much. She’s only just grown out of her eat everything within reach phase, and you and Harry were too nervous for her to devour a handful of sand if you took your eyes off of her for a moment. She’s never been the greatest walker until recently, either, stumbling on air and falling to the ground, and you didn’t want to watch her try and take steps on the soft sand.

You decided for the first day of summer that you would cave and take her. Hell, there’s no one else on the beach for as far as your eyes can see, squinting down the length of the sand. And, of course, she’s fine now, sitting in between Harry’s crossed legs, baby sunglasses that are just a bit too big for her tiny face perched on the slope of her nose. You’ve only been here for an hour and Delaney has loved every moment, digging through the sand with the shovel and bucket Harry had bought her on the boardwalk, surely covering your husband’s legs with the grit, but you can tell from the grin on his face that he doesn’t care.

You lean back in your beach chair, lifting your bare foot up to tap against Harry’s shoulder, leg stretching to reach him where he sits just outside the shade of the umbrella. Your husband’s head turns, dropping back to look at you, sunglasses drooped down the bridge of his nose so that they’re surely doing a shitty job at protecting his eyes from the sun.

“It’s been 15 minutes,” you tell him, smile toying your lips upwards, and he raises his eyebrows, arms wrapped loosely around the toddler between his legs.

“Has it?” you nod, watching as he slides his hand beneath Delaney’s armpits, lifting her up to stand - she sighs, the noise soft and mingled with what must be annoyance at consistently being lifted up just when she’d settled back between Harry’s thighs. “Sorry, bub. Gotta give y’more sunscreen so your skin doesn’t burn.”

“Burn?” Delaney questions, pudgy toes digging into the sand as she toddles over to where you’re seated just a foot or two away, bathing suit strap slipping down her shoulder onto her upper arms.

“Yeah, babe,” you confirm with a small nod, pushing her sunglasses further up the bridge of her nose as you lean over, reaching for the small tube of sunscreen you’d bought on the boardwalk. You undo the cap, squirting a dollop of the beachy smelling lotion into your palm before rubbing your hands together. “Arms out, remember?”

Delaney nods, curls bouncing where they’re slipping out of the French braids Harry had so generously attempted to craft this morning, and she obliges with your command, sticking her arms out like a t. “I remember, mommy.”

You smile, reaching towards her to begin to rub the sunscreen on her arms, watching as she crinkles her nose at the smell. You pull the straps of her bathing suit to the side to massage the cream into her shoulders before pulling them up right, and you add another dollop to your palm to begin to smear onto her face.

When you’re done, the toddler’s face and body are sufficiently tinged a pale white from the ingredients of the sunscreen, and you smile, satisfied at her protection from the sun.

“Alright, bub,” you nod, watching as Delaney tugs at the ends of her braids in the way she always does when her hair is done - you suspect she dislikes how the hair style tugs at her scalp, but there’s no other way to contain her curls so they don’t get tangled and knotted by the end of the day. “You can go sit with daddy again.”

She hums softly, toddling away from before you to where your husband sits in the sunshine. She plops down between his open thighs, leaning her back against his chest, and even if you can’t see his face you can visualize his smile when he leans down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“Can we go in the water, daddy?” asks Delaney, reaching down to dig her hands into the soft sand beneath her. You can imagine the way her tongue pokes out of the corner of her mouth, how it always does when she’s concentrated, and she buries her palms in the sand like it’s the only thing she has to worry about. “S’hot.”

“Didn’t like it last time I took you, Laney,” says Harry, leaning back on his palms as he raises his head to look towards the ocean just a stone’s throw away from your setup. And, sure enough, when Delaney had begged to go in the water when you’d arrived, she’d dipped her toes in the coldness and promptly screamed at the temperature, burying her face in Harry’s swim trunks - but, god. The water looks magnificent now, waves crashing and licking the shore, just a few steps from where Harry and Laney’s feet stick out towards the ocean. In the debilitating heat of the sun, there seems to be nothing better than splashing in the waves.

“I like it,” she tells him, soft palms pressing to his thighs as she pushes herself to stand, and you and Harry both tense, briefly concerned that your daughter will throw all caution to the wind and run into the waves without waiting for her father. She doesn’t, though, turning around to face Harry, and she leans into his chest, arms wrapped around his neck so you can see her face smushed into his neck. “Please, daddy -”

“Yeah, I got it, Laney,” and you can hear Harry’s smile in the tone of his voice - how he pronounces the words, like it’s taking all his efforts not to burst into laughter at her insistent tone. He pushes himself to stand, arm hooked beneath Delaney’s bum as he holds her to his hip, and he ducks beneath the umbrella to meet your eyes.

His face is lightly pink from the sun, curls tinged blonde in certain areas. His mouth stretches widely in a smile, bending down to press a kiss to your lips, and you crane your neck up to meet him.

“Come with us?”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, reaching a hand up to run against his bare bicep, and you can see his smile widen more at your action (if that’s even possible.) “Gonna read my book, I think. Shitty romance novel I got on the boardwalk - may as well bang it out.”

“Alright,” and he reaches down to land one more kiss to your lips before a soft whine tears its way from Delaney’s throat, arms tightening around Harry’s neck, eyes surely glued to the blue waves in front of her. “Sorry, bub. Let’s go, c’mon.”

You don’t reach for your book right away, though it sits on the ground beside your beach chair. Your eyes linger on Harry’s figure, arms wrapped securely around the toddler as he makes his way down the damp sand towards the water that wets it. He lowers himself to his knees, letting Delaney drop out of his arms where she’s clutching his torso, and you can hear her soft squeal the second the waves lick at her toes - she jumps back, nearly tripping over a shell buried in the sand before Harry catches her, a laugh tearing out of his throat at her antics. He pulls her to lean against his chest, arms wrapped around her stomach, and when the tide rushes in it hits them both full force until they’re soaked, Delaney burying her face in her father’s chest at the feeling.

In the end, you find that your book goes unread for the half hour Harry and Delaney play by the water. It’s significantly more interesting watching your loves than reading about anyone else’s, anyway.

#wow hmm i do hate this!Q #harry styles x reader #dad!harry #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine

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kosmosguk · 4 years

Text

Lineage (M) | 4

Pairing: Duke Yoongi x Princess Reader

Word Count: 5.2K

Summary: When an engagement locks you, the 8th and forgotten princess, to the duke infamous for his cruelty, you find yourself counting the days until your inevitable death. It’s terrifying to think of your end, but when you arrive at his territory, you realize there’s a more morbid reason behind your marriage, and that the duke is much worse than the rumors have painted him out to be.

Warnings: HEAVY yandere themes, death, mentions of gore and death, near-death experiences, obsessive behaviors, manipulation, mentions of smut, 18+, explicit language, pregnancy, vomiting

A/N: wow...I can’t believe this story (well the main story; there’s a special chapter and an epilogue coming up) is over. Over 40 pages later...It feels like I’ve raised and nurtured a baby into a somewhat adult and now I have to send it off for college or smth :( I never thought the story would do this good in the first place (part 1 has 4k+ notes and I’m ,, shook ,,,) so to everyone who supported and loved this story (as messy as it was)...THANK YOU! Please keep supporting my writing, and I hope to keep improving as your lovely kosmosguk :]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

The air was still cold, the kind of cold that heavily bore on your lungs and left you rattling like the only thing left of you was a decaying ivory skeleton. You supposed the cold made sense, even though it was spring and it shouldn’t have been so cold. Some part of you convinced yourself it was the norm even when droplets of icy water splashed onto your frail cheeks. Even when you closed the door behind you, you could feel the chill; even when an acrid taste built up in your throat, you could not stop shivering.

Why could you remember the look on Namjoon’s face? You closed your eyes. Go away, go away, go away. His face lingered even then, even more stark against the darkness of your closed lids, hollow, disappointed eyes and lips curled too rigidly, too unnaturally into a smile. You knew that look. You hated that look.

You could feel the pain in your chest, prickling, and that pain seemed to sink itself into your stomach. Why did it hurt? Why were you hurting?

10. 9. 8.

You counted in your mind softly as the nausea swelled up, like the disgustingly messy crescendo of an agonizing melody. Now, this was strange, wasn’t it? Your cold wasn’t supposed to be accompanied by such nausea. When you began to heave, bracing yourself against the frame of your bed, you heard a knock and then the door click open.

A maid stood out there, her eyes widening as if she could not fathom the sight of you. You clasped your hand around your mouth, tears building up in your eyes, and you choked on a heave. You heard her footsteps tapping frantically as she dashed to get a bucket, but you couldn’t hold in the prickling in your throat, the swirling in your stomach.

Tears spilled out, dropping onto the ground, as you bent over and retched all over your nightgown and the carpet. Your vision blurred, spots dancing, and you sunk heavily into the moment of weakness.

When you came to, you were being encased in something warm. You didn’t smell anything rancid like what you had been expecting; instead, the soft pleasant scene of rose oil scented soap met your nose, and you exhaled a relieved sigh. Wait…rose wasn’t the only smell. You could smell a hint of wine and something muskier, though slightly sweet. The smell of it was so familiar. It couldn’t be? You peeked open an eye to look up to see your surroundings, and your mouth dropped open slightly.

“D-duke? My Lord. Why are you here? Why…How did I get here?’’ you sputtered, and you tried to push yourself out of his hold. His gaze, along with his hold, remained steady. He reached out slightly and gently trailed a finger down the curve of your cheek.

“I haven’t been able to visit you lately because of how busy I’ve been…If I had known you were feeling so ill, I would’ve been by your side. I’m so sorry,’’ his tone was remorseful. The Duke, who everyone believed had no bone of emotion in his body and who was notorious for never feeling remorse, was apologizing to you. His words seemed to wash out every agony you had experienced. You rapidly blinked away the hint of tears in your eyes and ducked your head shyly.

He caught your chin with a hand before you could hide your face and lifted it gently. You noticed the black circles imprinted into the skin under his eyes, the way his face was even more waxy and pale than usual. Every aggrievance you had despaired over while alone in that room faded; you missed him. You missed him so much. You wouldn’t have been stuck in your own head if he had been there to hold you…but he was here now.

That thought washed over you, and you wrapped your fingers around the hand that was under your chin. His hand was limp as you pushed it down to your thrumming heart. Your stomach fluttered as his fingertips traced your warm skin peeking out of the collar of your nightgown. You carefully held his hand there. You didn’t notice the brief flash of guilt on his face.

You didn’t say anything, your hand still firmly holding his, and you shuffled your body closer, closing your eyes. The scent of the two of you mixed together was pleasant, and although Yoongi’s touch was usually unnaturally cold, today he was so warm. Or maybe the warmth of you had seeped out and spread around the two of you. That was okay; you were warm enough for the both of you. You suddenly felt so tired, even though you had just slept.

“Yoongi…,’’ your voice was barely a mumble,’’ I’m tired. Stay with me?’’

He moved the hand in your grasp slightly, and you held on tightly even though you were half-asleep. He chuckled lowly.

“Don’t worry. Relax your hand. I’ll be here,’’ he spoke. You complied, and you felt his fingers wrap themselves around yours. The two of you laid there, a hand clasped with the other between your chests, and you took in the sensation of your husband with every deep inhale.

“I’ll always be here.”

“Is she better?’’

Namjoon leaned back on the chain, but his posture was still stiff. Yoongi gazed at him with cold eyes from the chair across from Namjoon.

“What were you doing with her? Alone.’’ Yoongi’s voice was menacing.

Namjoon casually shrugged, his voice was level and careful to not expose any of his inner emotions.

“Wouldn’t you like to know? I was checking up on her, something her husband wasn’t doing. She didn’t look too good either,’’ Namjoon kept an eye on Yoongi’s reaction, his tone accusatory and raising in volume,’’ It made me think that you don’t give a damn about her, even though she looks and acts so much like her.’’

“Don’t.’’

Namjoon laughed bitterly.

“Don’t what? Don’t mention how much of a shitty husband you are? Don’t mention her? Shouldn’t I be telling you that? Don’t treat her like a replacement. She isn’t her. She died years ago. I saw her dead body. You saw her dead body. She’s not here anymore, Yoongi. You have to move on.’’

Yoongi’s palms were in fists now, his knuckles turning white, but his voice remained steady.

“She’s not dead.’’

Namjoon looked at Yoongi in disbelief, his expression twisting even further. Namjoon could only laugh, the sound dry and hoarse, and it crackled out like the remnants that Namjoon held in his heart.

“Yoongi.’’ This wasn’t Namjoon. Namjoon rarely got angry at Yoongi; hell, after what happened, he never got even slightly bent up at Yoongi, but he saw your face, contorted and agonized. His voice pressed out like a layer of bitter poison. He was on his feet now. “Fucking wake up. She’s dead. She died!”

“She hasn’t died,’’ Yoongi inhaled a deep breath,” She’s alive; I know it!’’

Namjoon shook his head, and before he knew it, his fist had collided with Yoongi’s jaw, sending Yoongi’s head swiveling to the right. He grabbed Yoongi by the shirt. Yoongi didn’t move, barely flinching from the blooming bruise on his face.

“Get it in your head, bastard. I’ve known you for centuries, Yoongi. I cared about her too, but she’s dead. But you know who’s not dead! Your wife. And she’s dying because of you. You want to cause someone else who loves you to die again?’’

“She’s alive, Namjoon! She died, but she’s back. Namjoon, don’t you understand?’’

Namjoon yanked Yoongi up, curling back his mouth to shout some more, but his words died in his throat before they could rise and leave on his tongue. There was a deranged look in Yoongi’s usually composed eyes. Yoongi looked feral, a murderous beast rippling underneath the façade of the weak human he wore, and Namjoon felt his spine curl in chills.

Namjoon dropped Yoongi back onto the sofa, his chest rising up in rapid heavy breaths, and he shook his head before spitting out his final words.

“You, you’re the one who doesn’t understand. If you don’t get your act together, as your friend, I’ll give you a warning: something will take her away. Whether it be a new suitor or death.”

Namjoon turned to leave, and his hand was on the doorknob when he heard Yoongi’s voice.

“When she died, I made a choice, Namjoon.”

Namjoon didn’t move. His breathing was ragged.

“You ever wonder how I managed to survive this long with most of my power gone? It’s because of her. I made the choice when…when she was bleeding out, I made a pact with the God of life. The God of life knew that I would’ve destroyed that family of bastards and then the world if I had a chance, so he made a deal with me. She would be born as the unloved princess of the same line of people who killed her, but I had to promise that I could not destroy the world. Namjoon, I’m telling you this for a reason.’’

Namjoon turned quickly back, his eyes pinned to Yoongi’s still form on the sofa. He didn’t expect Yoongi to keep talking.

“But we’ve been friends for centuries. You deserve the truth. The deal I made with that bastard wasn’t perfect. When she was reborn, she would be human. Her. She had been so in love with flowers, and now she doesn’t even look at them the same anymore. But God said…,’’ Yoongi inhaled,’’ God said I could have her really back if I was careful. Where she had been stabbed, there’s a mark. If I could make her love me once more and I waited until the Spring Equinox… If I stabbed her through there, I would have my love back.’’

There was a pause to laugh, though it was no laugh of joy. “Isn’t that cruel? I would have to hurt her the way they hurt her. But it’s worth it. It’s worth it if I have a chance to get her back.’’

“Yoongi…!’’ Namjoon’s breath was even more ragged now. Rage colored it. “She’s human. If you kill her, there’s a chance she’ll actually die! That body of hers is human. It can’t contain the power of a deity!’’

“Don’t you think I know that?’’ Yoongi’s voice struck an unruly crescendo, and he finally rose to his feet. Namjoon flinched slightly at the maniacal expression painted in his friend’s once calm eyes. “This is my final chance to bring her back. She’ll never be hurt again! I’ll lock her up in a safe place, my flower, my…my wife.’’

“Don’t you understand what you’re doing is going to hurt her? It’s already hurting her!’’ Namjoon’s voice boomed in a yell, but Yoongi didn’t back down. He was too far now to back down.

“What does it matter? I love her. She’s the same as her, but she’s also not the same. She needs to be completed. The her of now is just a vessel for her true self… And as long as I break it, everything will go back to the way it should’ve been before she decided to trust those mortal bastards over me!’’

There was a tension in the room that couldn’t be swallowed by Yoongi’s increasingly rough breathing. Namjoon’s voice managed to croak out. There was no stability to it, not anymore.

“When you said there’s a reason why you’re telling me this, what is it? You know I’m going to stop you from pulling through with this. She’s dead, Yoongi, and the her of right now is a mortal! She’ll die once more, and what will you do then? As your friend—!’’

“What friend? What friend does a demon even have? And what friend looks at his friend’s wife in that manner, in nearly the same way that I do…! Namjoon, I know you love her.’’ Yoongi’s voice lowered back down to a threateningly calm voice. “And I can’t have that.”

Namjoon steeled himself for a fight, but he was no match for Yoongi. Yoongi was older than him, more powerful than him. He had slain bodies on the battlefield without losing breath. And now, he was going to do the same to Namjoon. Yoongi’s hands wrapped tightly around Namjoon’s neck, and Namjoon choked on a wheezing breath.

Namjoon tried to suck in a shaky breath as his vision splotched. He was a demon. He couldn’t quite die like humans did, but there was an end to all entities, demonic or heavenly, and Yoongi’s power was bitterly overwhelming. Yoongi’s fingers dug into the thin mortal-like flesh of Namjoon, and blood the deep color of ink dribbled out of crescent marks.

“I’ll take into consideration your many years of servitude to me, Namjoon. Your end will be much kinder than the ends of those before you.”

Flowers were peeking through blades of jade-green glass when you finally found yourself outside the rumored garden of the Duke’s first love.

He had gone for the day, and you had bitten the apple of temptation that curiosity had granted you.

You were the duchess; there was no need for you to be so cautious nor feel so guilty. But your gaze darted left and right, careful of any lingering servants, as you pushed your way into the depths of the garden.

Lush flowers greeted you, petals of every shade of the rainbow unfurling and glistening with the morning dew, and you exhaled in soft wonder. The sight was marvelous. The garden was beautiful, and it had been tended to meticulously. The beauty of the garden coupled with the pinpricks of growing despair in your heart as you furthered your way in.

You heard something snap and heard the voices of servants from just outside.

“The Duchess hasn’t been feeling well, hasn’t she?’’ you heard the voice’s echo.

“Ay, it’s unfortunate that the Duke has been too busy to look after her. They used to be so enamored at the beginnin’ of their marriage, but noble marriages…,’’ the responding voice hushed, but you could still hear the last part,” they never really go happy. Especially since rumors been spreading that the Duke still has a first love he can’t forget and only married the Duchess cause she reminded him of ‘er.”

You hurried your pace further in, not wanting to get caught. Your breath hitched, and the agony of those soft words pierced your already aching heart. Your eyes prickled in hot tears. Why, you wanted to scream at yourself as your footsteps quickened and your vision blurred, why were you so weak?

He had treated you so well. He loved you, didn’t he?

Your ankle twisted as your shoe slipped on the wet ground, and you were sent sprawling into the ground, grass and mud staining your dress. You looked pathetic, wet and muddy and close to tears…and then you looked up and made eye contact with the gray statue standing in front of you.

It had been carefully carved in the image of a young girl, holding an armful of flower bouquets—you noticed that the flowers were not made of stone like the rest of her and that they were fresh, as if someone had tenderly made sure to replace them every day—in her arms and beaming widely as her legs raised in a gleeful skip. She looked alive, but most importantly…she looked exactly like you.

From the slope of her nose to the curve of her lips and even to the way her eyes turned up in a playful smile, reminiscent of the naïve you of the past, she was every inch you like you were every centimeter her.

The answer to the previous question rang and echoed painfully in your head: No.

Your tears broke free from its constraints. They dripped down your cheeks like blood drops, and you muffled a sob as the cruel truth dug its blade into your heart and left you painfully bleeding out in a beautiful garden filled with the past’s flowers.

You allow him to embrace you as the waning moonlight slowly aligned itself to match the glowing sunlight. Even when he seemed distracted, and you could tell his thoughts were drifting back to her, you would shamelessly bring him closer to you, spread your legs farther apart and moan more like the whore you were. Anything, you would repeat to yourself, anything to keep him to you.

But if you were willing to do anything for him to love you, why did you find hot tears spilling onto your cheeks as you watched the sleeping him? The moonlight would embrace his skin, light it up like it was alabaster, and you would realize that perhaps the love he had shown you before was like the love an artist gave to a statue: tender but shallow.

Even then, you would lose yourself in your own rosy-painted memories, in which he tenderly cradled your hand and told you how beautiful you had looked the night of the ball. You loved him; you loved him too much.

But why, if you loved him so, did you hide your nausea to yourself? Why did you pick at meals and force yourself to eat them despite the growing urge to vomit? Why did you hide? Did you want to remain eternally beautiful and pure to him, like the innocent girl laughing silently in that wretched garden?

Did he ever love you?

When the hours of moonlight finally clicked to match the hours of daylight, you received your answer.

The moonlight served to guide your clumsy fingers. You were carefully embroidering a delicate lily, though it did not look as lovely as you had hoped, into a pure ivory handkerchief when the door of your shared room with the Duke clicked open.

“My wife.”

His face was solemn as ever, but there was a soft light that glowed in his cool eyes. The tenderness on his face was reminiscent of the kind he used to have for you back in the earlier days of your marriage. You were enthralled, bewitched, and entranced as he took quick paces towards you. He swept you up in his arms, his embrace strong and firm, and the handkerchief slipped from your still figures.

If you had not been immersed in the high of his affection, you would have been despaired over the handkerchief, with its half-finished lily, getting dirty. Your mother, before her death, used to adore lilies. She would smile bittersweetly as the bouquet of lilies delivered from the king dwindled and wilted before smoothing your hair down, her voice dim as she spoke.

“I used to love lilies…They stand for three things: devotion, humility, and…”

The third part seemed to escape your mind, but you found yourself not caring as much as Yoongi’s grip on you tightened.

“My Duke, what are y—?’’ you gasped out in surprise.

His voice cut you off, the sound rough and haggard and…exhilarated.

You felt something in your gut alert you of danger, but you did not care. He was holding you; you melted in his touch.

“My wife, I must ask you a dire question,’’ his voice echoed in the silent room,” Do you love me, my wife…Do you love me?’’

Your response spilled out of your lips as if you were bewitched by a spell. Your words were coated in a pathetic, desperate vulnerability.

“Yes, husband, I love you! I love you, I love you, I love you so much.”

Your breath hitched as his grip strengthened, and your brain was covered in a dizzy haze as you tried to gasp for a deeper inhale of air. He pulled away; you were surprised, briefly, at how cruel his eyes looked in the moonlight despite the warmth exuding from him.

“Good. My wife, I love you. I have a surprise for you, but you must trust me. Hold my hand,’’ he reached his hand out, and your hand was clasped in his iron-cold hand before you could fully process your thought. You blindly trusted him, even when he took out a fine silk ribbon.

It was a beautiful shade of gold, though slightly dirty, but your lips twitched nervously as you noticed small splatters of red dying the fabric. However, Yoongi’s gentle smile never wavered, and like an innocent lamb awaiting slaughter, you closed your eyes and let him tie it around you.

“Perfect. You look beautiful, my wife.”

Your heart skipped a beat. All of the love he had ever shown you before had been subtle. But it poured and oozed out of every word that he had spoken. You were foolishly giddy.

You could feel a slight skip in your step as Yoongi guided you. Step by step, you placed your trust in him. You did not hear any other sound other than the footsteps of Yoongi and you. It was unnerving, almost, the silence in the halls. But even when you heard something squelch, like the carpet had been soaked in some liquid, underneath the wooden soles of your slippers, you did not let your footsteps waver.

You were outside now. Your shoes brushed against grass and grated against stone, and you felt the merciless night wind whip at your hair before slowing down to a gentle breeze. You shivered and sought warmth, but there was no warmth, not even in Yoongi’s hand around yours, outside of the ribbon around your eyes.

“My wife, we are here,” you felt Yoongi let go of your hand, and his fingertips brushed against your cheek as he reached to undo the gold ribbon. The fabric fluttered down, the softness of it remaining on your face as you made petrified eye contact with the statue.

It was her; she held new flowers in her hands. A bundle of lilies sparkled white in the moonlight, and you felt your face go ashy. You remembered the final third meaning of lilies: restored innocence after death.

“Duke…Yoongi, what’s…What’s,’’ you tried to sputter out. Your pupils were dilated from fear, and you did not shake from the cold. No, you trembled from a deep sense of fearful dread. You flung your arms and embraced yourself as the nausea boiled in your gut and rose in your throat like acrid steam.

He got closer to you, and the moonlight illuminated the mania in his eyes and the glint of a blade. There was no calm before the storm; no, this was the storm. You let out a shrill scream and turned to run away.

Your feet tore up grass in your frenzy, but he was the Duke that many had rumored came from hell. He cut down thousands on the battlefield and emerged each time drenched in blood. It was then, as he reached out and grabbed your arm in a callous, bruising grip, that you came to see the monster that lingered in the human shell you had loved.

He shoved you down to the ground, and his voice pitched as he spat out: “The first night that you had died, I had nearly killed them all. I had planned on vengeance, on soaking this damned earth in blood, but I made a deal. The God said if I spared their creation, I could have you back…You would be human, disgusting and impure like the ones who had slain you…but I could change that. Only if I eliminate the stench of humanity from you.”

You scrambled back as he approached and hugged your stomach. You could already feel the sting of the blade, but you still cried out as the blade glinted in his hand.

“Yoongi, I’m pregnant!’’ you kept your eyes firmly on him,” Yoongi, I have your child! Please, please, if you kill me, this child will die!”

The blade in Yoongi’s hand paused as your breath caught in your throat.

His voice was weak and trembled slightly as he spoke. He was so vicious just a second prior, but now he looked ready to collapse. “My…my child…”

You sought to further his hesitation, to save not only yourself but your child too, and it seemed easy enough to begin weeping once more as your emotions soared to a rattled high.

“If you kill me, you kill this child. Our child. You asked me to call you Yoongi when we married,’’ you sucked in a shaky breath,” Didn’t I mean something to you? And if not me, what about our child? I look so much like…so much like her that our baby would surely resemble her too. Please, Yoongi, my husband, please, please, please!’’

His eyes flickered to the blade in his hand and back to the red mark peeking through the neckline of your gown. There was a resolute light that returned to his suddenly brighter red eyes that startled your heart back into a fiercer race in your chest.

No, please, you silently begged him and hugged your stomach.

“We can always,’’ he swallowed, and your eyes stilled in a conflicting hopelessness as he raised the blade back up once more,” When you’re her again, we can always have more children. We’ll have so many, as much as we want; that will be my apology for taking away our first child. You’ll understand…She would understand.”

The blade shing-ed as it pierced downwards through the night towards your chest, and you clenched your eyes shut and tried to shield your unborn child.

The sound abruptly stopped, and you heard a muffled groan accompany a heavy thud against the ground. You peeked open your eyes, and you choked on shock.

The man before you looked exhausted and you saw broken iron clasped around one of his wrists. There was exhaustion rimmed underneath his eyes, but you saw firm courage in them too.

“N…Namjoon! Namjoon, Namjoon, please, please save my child!’’ you were screaming hysterically, your eyes hazy as you refused to let your arms fall from around your stomach.

He glanced back at you. That courage grew, and you felt wretched as the bitter taste of grief bite at your tongue. You knew what you were asking for was selfish. You had been selfish from the beginning.

You were selfish to want a happy ending. You were selfish to yearn for a family of three with the Duke, your child’s chubby fingers placed in the hands of each parent, and you were selfish to want to not lose someone else important to you either.

“Go…Go…Now!’’ he called out to you. “He’ll get up soon; you have to leave!’’

You stumbled back up on weak legs. Tears rose in your swollen eyes.

“Please, Namjoon, I can’t…,’’ you choked on a ragged sob,” I can’t leave you here!’’

“You have to!’’ his eyes darted back to Yoongi’s collapsed form,” I’ll come back for you. So hurry…Go!’’

“Promise! You have to be safe!’’ At the sound of Yoongi—no, the Duke—getting up from the ground, you forced yourself to kick your shoes off, turn around, and run away. As pebbles and branches bit at your naked feet, you could hear the sound of fighting. Please, Namjoon be safe, you prayed.

When you reached outside of the garden, you heard a loud choked yell of pain and closed your eyes shut as tears bit once more at them. Was…Was Namjoon dead? You looked back into the darkness of the maze-like garden, the darkness even more haunting with the grave silence permeating it, and you felt grief swell in your gut. You were sobbing now, ready to collapse into the unforgiving dirt, but Namjoon was willing to risk his life for you. You could not stop now.

You saw a figure standing outside, blocking the path away from the garden. Though it was dark, you managed to make out who he was as you got closer. His previously youthful and cheerful features were carefully set back in a more aged look. It was the aid that the Duke had hired for you: Jungkook.

“My goddess, the demon has sacrificed his life for you. Though you are human, God had sent me to guide you. The demon king had promised that he would not slain any other life in vain, and with the death of the demon, that promise has been unfulfilled. But God is merciful…They will protect you and your unborn child from danger.”

The aid’s voice was stony, unlike the light tone he had adopted before, but somehow, that very sound relaxed you. You had no one else to trust now and no way to live securely with your child.

The angel extended a hand, just like the Duke had extended his hand out to you while plotting to end your life.

“Will you take my hand, and let me protect you for as long as you may live?’’

You stared at his hand…and shook your head.

“God’s human servant humbly cannot agree to this. I do not need your forever protection, angel. Please, as long as you find a place safe for my unborn child, I will do whatever is necessary, but I am not willing to fully take the hand of a stranger so soon after a betrayal.”

You felt a tinge of a smile at Jungkook’s…no the angel’s lips, reminiscent of the days in which you had once felt happiness.

“God has always given their promises carefully. Not many mortals have ever refused the divine help. Many have even dared to push the boundaries of such promises.”

You placed a gentle hand over your stomach.

“As long as my child is safe, to me that is all that matters. Please, angel, help me once to only fulfill security for my baby.”

“Then, take my hand now. I have never witnessed a human refuse the hand of an angel before. If a devout believer were to witness you, would you not be labelled as a sinner?” the angel’s voice was almost teasing, had the sound not been so dry and flat.

“Labelled with this damned red mark, I have been a sinner the day I arrived on this earth, angel. It seems to be in my lineage to be nothing more than a sinner.’’ You wryly spoke and reached out your hand, finally taking his. You glanced once more back at the garden, blackened by the shadowy darkness and stench of death.

As you left this wretched place, where you had found love and had been destroyed by love, where you had been pushed and grown from the feeble girl of the past, where you had made memories despite how brief its actuality had been, the statue of the girl began to crumble and the bouquet of white lilies in her hand began to wilt, and as dust and crumbled petals fell to the ground, they became stained once more in red.

A/n: It’s finally the end of the main story :’) As always, leave a comment or a detailed review if you enjoyed the story.

A special chapter from Yoongi’s perspective and an epilogue will be coming (reply with a 👑 if you aren’t on the taglist yet and want to be updated for those parts), and then Lineage will reach its final final conclusion.

Thank you, and lmk of any mistakes (I never edit sjsjsj)!

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softscummymammon · 3 years

Text

€Unexpected Acquaintance€

Assisted by:: @jinjinjinjin

❃.✮:▹»»——⍟——««◃:✮.❃

Sukuna just wanted this day to end. He was already in a bad mood from the storm last night, where he got little of his much needed sleep, and his mood had only gotten worse when he was faced with a bunch of "nature friendly" bastards protesting near the docks where his boat was tied down.

Now, he just wanted to get his daily load of fish for the market, and have a nap without dealing with any other goody two shoe hypocrites. He could already feel the headache building up behind his eyes.

Though the gentle rocking of the boat over the surface of the water did ease him slightly. People besides other fishermen were always so confused when he actually said something about himself and it happened to his be career in fishing. They were always so astounded when he said he could stay on a boat for a whole day. Weaklings, all of them.

Rubbing at his sore eyes, Sukuna glared at the surface of the horizon and took a sip of the alcohol in his canteen. Tucking the tin back into his wader's pocket, he patted the pocket for safe keeping.

Walking to the front of the boat, he checked his net markers he left a few days ago. Sukuna gasped when he saw his marker bobbing up and down frantically. Getting his equipment ready, he tugged on some gloves and grabbed at the net right under the marker.

Taking a breath, Sukuna started tugged on the net. Grabbing every piece of net coming from the water, Sukuna huffs as he pulls the net further and further from the water. The sound of splashing water reached his ears and he smirked in victory.

Putting all the access netting into one hand, Sukuna quickly reaches behind him for the mechanical hook. The machinery on his boat was built and bought by him only, so only he knew how it worked. By reaching for the net first, he can easily tie the access onto the hook and pull up the rest of it out of the water.

Doing exactly what was needed, he tied the net to the hook and grabbed onto the leaver and started cranking the leaver clockwise. The machinery raised the net out of the water better than he ever could. The load he hauled onto his deck made him smile and rub his hands together gleefully.

" This shipment is definitely worth a pretty penny. Now, all I gotta do it sort you out, fish sticks. "

*Slap* "Who you callin' fish sticks, blubber mouth?! "

Sukuna froze. Looking up, he raised his hand to his face and wiped away some water the fish that had been thrown at him left on his cheek. Peering down at the fish now flopping on his deck, he gave the thing a death glare; as if that would give him any answers. He must really be going crazy-

"Up here, blubber-for-brains. "

His eyes snapped up towards the voice. But the air in his lungs escaped as if they were punched out of him. A human(?)'s upper torso was visible at the top of the net. It was leaning against the hook of the machinery and was throwing and catching a fish in its hand.

Sukuna raised a brow, " What the fuck? "

The thing raised one of its brows back, " Nice use of language, Oh Smart One. I thought you humans were supposed to be intelligent. Though, every one of your kind I've encountered uses fowl language, so smarts must just be a myth. "

Sukuna growled at the things snarky commentary, " Oh yeah? And what kind of intelligent creature like you gets stuck in a fishing net, huh? So much for being smart. "

The thing snarled, showing off rust colored stained teeth dyed by no doubt blood as sharp as many of Sukuna's own fileting knives. It held tightly onto the fish in its hand, " Watch your mouth, human, I still got a whole lotta of ammo here, and your face is lookin' like a big ol' target from where I'm sittin'. "

Sukuna rose an unimpressed eyebrow and pulled out a harpoon gun he kept in the captain's quarters, " Mine hurts worse. "

The thing flinched back and hissed at the gun, but slowly set down the poor he probably squeezed to death in his panic. The thing made a whiny sound in the back of its throat, " I didn't choose to get stuck here. I was getting chased by some shark mers. Those nasty ones only know the smell of blood and the next potential meal. I'd choose to be anywhere else right now, trust me. "

Sukuna huffed, " Yeah, sure. " Putting away the gun, Sukuna sighed and looked back up to the sulking thing. Looking closer, he was the slightest shine of scales decorating the cheeks, neck, and forearms of the thing. Its eyes were steely and sunken in, as if it's seen things beyond it's life time.

Sukuna chuckled upon realization, " You're a mermaid, aren't you? "

The mer scoffed, " Merman, thank. But 'mer' is just fine. I still don't get why ya humans always gotta gender code things. Damn, just call us what we are? "

Sukuna chuckled again, " What? Nuisances? "

The mer hissed again, " We wouldn't be if ya humans knew to keep to yerselves. Ain't this section of the coast off limits to fishers like yerself? "

Sukuna shrugged, not giving an answer. The mer scoffed and crossed it's arms over it's chest. Sukuna looked at it up and down, taking in everything he could. He hummed delightfully.

The mer must have caught on, " What'cha lookin at me fer? Think I'm some sorta snack for yer to eat? "

Sukuna shook his head no, " Nah, I was just rememberin how much one of your kind goes to sell on the blackmarket. You gotta be worth something. No rich bastard would give up the opportunity to call a thing like you pet. "

The mer's eyes went thin, but already creamy skin paled considerably, " You wouldn't... "

Sukuna rose a brow, " Oh, and why wouldn't I? I could definitely use the money. "

The thing stayed quiet, before it soon started to shake. Sukuna was about to sneer and comment about it being weak, but paused when a face formed from agony and rage shot up to glare at him. Sukuna had to keep himself from tensing and tried to look as calm as he could be.

The mer growled, " That's all that ya humans are. Selfish and greedy monsters only willing to do something if you get money in return. Do you know how many of our kind is sacrificed, hunted, and killed just so the others can live? Just so you humans can play god and reap what we mer's sew. "

Sukuna gulped, remembering the auction show he was emailed an invite to since he contributed a large amount of fish to the CEO of the company. It was a disgusting show of wealth. How millionaires and billionaires fought over a small little thing that held a resemblance to the one right in front of him.

The mer wasn't done, but tears of grief started to roll down it's eyes, " How many of our guppies, our children, are pulled from our arms to be sold like live stock?! You are no better! "

Sukuna had enough of this tantrum, " Do not bundle me with those people! I'd never harm a child, even if I am considered a monster by other people. I will not allow it to be done by a fish like you! "

The mer shrunk back, breathing irregular and struggling, like a faint wheeze. It swallowed roughly and looked away. Sukuna rumbled, now over flowing with guilt he felt he should not harbor. Looking back up, he became slightly alarmed at the shallow and wheezy breaths the mer was taking.

Mer's need water, his mind supplied. Sukuna growled, and hackles raising when he caught the mer flinching again. Walking away from the net, he went down below deck on got out a giant glass tank he kept in case he needed to keep a fish alive for more profit.

Taking it up the stairs and on to the deck, he set it down on some secure boxes and grabbed a bucket to start filling it with water. He had to make haste though, or the mer would die from drownin? Suffocation? And all of this work would be for waste.

Once the tank was full and covered from the beating ray of the sun, Sukuna walked over to the leaver controlling the hook and rotated it counter clockwise. He watched as the machine lowered the net onto the deck and he let go of the leaver. Once the machine stopped, he stepped up to the net and untied it.

Being this up close and personal to the mer, he watched as the sun made the scales look iridescent. Slipping his arms underneath the torso of the fish being, he pulled it out of the other fish and dragged it towards the tank. The mer roused slightly, trying to fruitlessly push Sukuna away. The bigger man scoffed and dropped the mer into the tank.

The reaction was instant, the mer took a deep breath through the large gills covering it's side and it slumped against the rim of the glass tank. Sukuna watched, looking at the mer's tail that could he classified as art in itself. It was beautiful, though he would never admit it. The thin tarp Sukuna draped over some boxes didn't stop the light from the sun bouncing off the glittering scales.

Sukuna's gaze went back up to the mer's face, startling to see the mer was also looking at him. It's hair fell in it's face, blocking out most of it. It puffed, blowing some of the strands out of it's eyes to get a better look.

Sukuna hated the way his chest constricted at the show. The mer raised a webbed hand, and Sukuna slowly took it and shook it. He made a face when he pulled it back and fake gagged at the slimy feeling left on his skin. The thing laughed at his disgust and shook it's head, getting water everywhere.

It smirked, " The name's _____ _____. What's yours, blubber man? "

Sukuna sneered at the nickname, " That's not my name. It'd Sukuna Ryoumen, nothing else. "

The mer smirked, " Well now I gotta call you that every time I address ya. "

Sukuna growled, " Don't you dare. " The glint in the fish's eyes didn't quell any of the building dread that sat in the bottom of his stomach. He really debated on if he should sell the fish or not.

❃.✮:▹»»——⍟——««◃:✮.❃

#anime headcanons #jjk x male reader #ryōmen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #x male reader #male character #mermaid male reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna x male reader #tw blood #tw gore #tw fishing #tw harmful endangerment #alternate universe

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biggest-stupidhead · 3 years

Note

HI WELCOME BACK! if i could request 'modern dad' levi x reader. i don't mind the format. im so happy your back!

HI! I MISSED U SM!!! Also this idea has been living RENT FREE in my brain so thanks for sending it in. If you're looking for more of this content I have a WIP that features dad! Levi x nanny! reader if you haven't checked it out yet go give it a read :)

Summary: Levi is a dad :)

Word Count: 1.3K

___

Levi knew that parenting wouldn't be easy. He had grown up with a sketchy idea of what it took to parent, having lost his mom so young and living with his detached uncle. So when you told him that you were pregnant with teary eyes and a quivering lip he had turned his back, unsure of his feelings.

At first he felt guilty, putting this burden on you. You however assured him that it was fine, that you would do whatever made him feel most comfortable. You had even had the audacity to suggest raising the child on your own, he of course refused.

Growing up in a single parent home had been less than ideal for himself and he would rather be caught dead than being a deadbeat dad. So after about three days of space, he came to you and told you his feelings. He told you how much he would hate to see you go through pregnancy alone, hate to see the child grow up as he had.

You had hugged him and cried into his chest as he rubbed your back. Now, nearly three years later, he couldn't have been happier with his decision. Even if he was covered in mashed peas and baby barf for the majority of those years. He wouldn't have traded it for the world. Every morning your daughter woke you up at six with tiny hands smushing cheeks and knees digging into ribs. She had his hair and eyes, but all of your charisma. She was stubborn and loud, extroverted and curious of the world. Levi had feared that he wouldn't have known what to do with her. The first time he held her in his arms was indeed the first time he had ever held such a small human.

Growing up in such a small family, he had never grown accustomed to children, as he cradled her small head, your hands guided him to support her bottom as you pressed her into his chest. He barely fought the tears form his eyes as the nurses congratulated him and you on your first child. She wore a small pink hat, swaddled in one of the hospitals newborn blankets.

Now she was racing around the house, bare feet slapping loudly against hardwood floors, sticky hands smearing handprints on his white walls. But he wasn't mad about the noise, or the mess for the first time in his life. He watched you as you parented her effortlessly, encouraging her to use her words and reading her mood flawlessly.

If she was fussy and extra stubborn, you would ignore her wails and snotty nose, instead heading into the kitchen to cut up an apple and dish out some peanut butter. As she ate the snack with tear filled eyes you nudged Levi's side and grinned softly at him.

"Peanut butter fixes everything." You explained as you leaned into his side. He scoffed and watched her scarf down the last of the apple slices, completely complacent.

"Now tell me what's wrong." You encouraged her and she let out a loud sigh.

"I wanna go outside." She said, her cheeks smudged with peanut butter. Levi turned and grabbed a fresh wash cloth, wetting it with warm water and crossing the room to clean off her rosy cheeks.

"Baby, it's raining outside." You reasoned and she grunted as Levi scrubbed her face.

"I wanna catch frogs." She whined and Levi's lip curled in disgust. Ever since Hange had babysat that one rainy weekend she wouldn't shut up about frogs.

"Okay, let's get your rain boots on." You said, heading towards the mud room where the shoes and coats were kept.

"Yes!" She squealed, throwing her arms around Levi's neck and pressing her damp cheek to his. He huffed, pulling her from her seat and carrying her after you. They found you pulling on a pair of old boots and a windbreaker, Levi helped Violet into her own rain gear. She could hardly sit still as he fastened the last button on her rain slicker. "You comin?" You asked as you pulled the garage door open, pressing the button to raise the garage door.

"I'll pass." He said, ruffling Violets dark locks before pulling her hood on.

"We'll bring in the findings." You said as you stepped out of the house, Violet hot on your heels.

"Those slimy things are not coming in here." Levi called after you as you waved a hand dismissively over your shoulder.

Thirty minutes later you came in sopping wet with a bucket full of bull frogs. Levi had tried to wrestle you out of the door but Violet reached into the bucket, pulling out easily the biggest, slimiest frog Levi had ever seen.

"His name is Booger!" She exclaimed as she held the fat frog by it's armpits.

"Get. That thing out of here now." Levi said, taking a step away from his daughter who took two tiny steps forwards. You hardly covered your laughter as Levi grabbed a nearby wooden spoon and pointed at Violet who continued to pursue him into the kitchen.

"Daddy look at his pretty spots!" She insisted as the frog let out a chorus of loud croaking. You set the bucket of smaller frogs back into the garage and pulled your phone out of your pocket to record the scene unfolding.

"He's ugly, get him out of here."

"Apologize!" Violet gasped, using her fingers to cover the frog's ears.

"No, get it out." Levi brandished the spoon, Violet squealed and thrust the frog forward with a toothy grin.

"He wants a kiss!" Violet giggled as the frog croaked loudly again.

"So help me I will drop kick that monstrosity out the front door." Levi growled, shooting a pointed glare at you and your camera.

"How rude!" Violet huffed, turning around with a loud squeak from her boots as she made her way back towards the garage.

"Unless you take the cleanest shower of your life, I will not be sleeping with you tonight." Levi threatened as you took the frog from her.

"You'd love that wouldn't you." You giggled as you pocketed your phone and turned to go release the frogs. He sighed loudly and placed the spoon back on the counter as the door closed behind you.

That night was spent bathing Violet head to toe after she splashed in one too many puddles. This was the part of parenting that Levi had no problem with, he was an expert at scrubbing her pale skin clean and picking up the trail of toys she left in her wake. He wrapped Violet in a warm towel as you finished up dinner in the other room. He helped her into her pajamas and she looped her arms around him with a content sigh.

"You're better at that than mommy." She complimented and Levi's brow furrowed.

"What do you mean?" He asked as he carried her into the dining room.

"Mommy's good too, but you always do it best." She smiled and Levi grunted, lips turning up in a small grin.

"That's 'cause your mom's shit at cleaning." He reasoned and Violet giggled. You came in, placing a plate of mac and cheese down in front of her as Levi planted a kiss to the crown of her head.

"And you suck at cooking." You countered and Levi quirked a brow as he looked down at the boxed mac and cheese that Violet was so eagerly shoveling into her mouth.

"Anyone can make boxed mac and cheese." Levi teased and you punched his arm with a pout.

"Shut up." You giggled and he rolled his eyes, pulling you in for a tight hug, you wrapped your arms around him and eased into his grasp. How had he gotten so lucky? He wondered as he held you close, the rain pattering outside as flashes of lightning lit up the dim room.

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the-iceni-bitch · 3 years

Text

All I Need

Pairing: Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Words: 4512

Summary: Andy has been drowning his grief at your bar for weeks. You help him dry out after a particularly bad night.

Warnings: Major angst!, softish Andy Barber, slight AU (spoilers for Defending Jacob book), explicit language, explicit sexual content (fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse), descriptions of excessive drinking by adult of appropriate age, SMUT, 18+ only!

A/N: I have officially jumped on the love train for everyone’s favorite floofy lawyer. The sad!boi activated my caretaker instincts so this is pretty soft compared to my normal fics, and extremely angsty. Plus the smut kind of got away from me, I actually had to stop myself from writing even more!

Checkout my masterlist and join my taglist if your inclined!

“Shit!! Jesse!” you screamed over your shoulder towards the kitchen, grabbing the bat from under the register as you jumped over the bar to break up the fight.

You swore under your breath as you moved toward the two men who were brawling. The smaller one seemed to have the upper hand, but it didn’t seem like the larger man was putting up much resistance. Maggie just stood there watching them with bambi eyes as you heard your giant cook rumble behind you, ripping off his apron to lend you a hand.

“What the fuck happened, Mags?” You hissed at your bartender, trying to haul the men apart with little success.

“Neal just came over and said he was sorry, and he just lost it.” The poor girl looked like she was on the verge of tears. Granted, she probably wasn’t expecting to have to deal with brawls in downtown Newton at a lawyer bar, but Neal sure seemed to invite violent reactions whenever he opened his stupid mouth.

You lost your patience and smashed an empty glass on the floor next to the two men, shocking them out of it. Neal rose to his feet with a look of fury on his face, but you kept your eyes on Andy Barber.

He’d spent pretty much every night this week since the funeral at your bar. His face was pallid and he had dark rings under his eyes. He was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, and he smelled like stale bourbon. Now he was rolling around on the floor aimlessly like a slug.

“Get the fuck out of my bar, Neal.” You said exasperatedly, spying the mostly empty bottle of bourbon on Barber’s table.

“What, I didn’t do anything!” the giant whined at you.

“Really?! You couldn’t just leave the poor guy alone? Jesus Neal! I don’t wanna see you in here for a month.” You hooked your arms under Andy’s and dragged him to sit on the bench, his head lolling drunkenly on his neck as you tried to assess how far gone he was.

“Fuck you, bitch.” Neal spat at you as he turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the front door behind him.

“Have a great night!” You called after him, sarcastically, flipping him off.

“You sure that’s a good idea, boss?” Jesse asked, his massive arms crossed over his chest as he shook his head at you.

“Who cares, I hate that smug asshole. Hey, Andy?” You snapped your fingers in front of his face and he slapped your hand away lazily, growling under his breath. “You sneak behind the bar again, man?”

“I swear, I didn’t sell him a bottle, Y/N.” Her chin was quivering as tears slowly leaked down her cheeks.

“I know Mags, he’s a sneaky bastard. Don’t worry, sweetie, you’re not in any trouble. Go to the bathroom and splash some water on your face.” You watched her scurry off to the bathroom and rubbed a hand over your face. “Fuck. I’m gonna call in Emma to give Maggie a hand. You ok locking up tonight Jess?”

“Sure, what’re you thinking?”

You just stared at Andy with overwhelming pity as he almost slid of the bench, forcing you to keep a steadying hand on his shoulder. “I’m gonna take him back to his hotel and help him dry out. Wouldn’t feel right just kicking him to the curb.”

“You’re too soft, Y/N.” Jess chortled at you.

“Yeah, maybe. Can you bring me an ice bucket?” You hooked his arm over your shoulder and hauled him to his feet so you could make your way out to your car.

Jess got your bucket from behind the bar as you hobbled outside. You managed to get your passenger door open and you slid Andy inside. His head rolled on his shoulders as you buckled him in before shoving the bucket into his lap.

“Andy, can you hear me? Don’t you fucking puke in my car!”

He grunted in acknowledgment and wrapped his arms around the bucket, curling himself over to hang his head above it.

“You sure you shouldn’t be taking him to a hospital, Y/N?”

“No… mmph… no fucking hospital!” Andy slurred at you as you slammed the door closed.

“I’m pretty sure he’d jump out of the car if he thought I was taking him to the hospital Jess.” You murmured as you circled to the driver’s side. “Thanks for closing, you’re the best!”

You watched him wave in your rearview as you drove off, making sure to keep one eye on Andy as he groaned over his bucket.

You reached his hotel in 15 minutes, grateful for the short drive as the man was looking greener by the second. You dug your hands in the pockets of his coat, searching for the keys to his room and you thankfully found them quickly. You were relieved to see he was on the first floor, as you didn’t trust your ability to safely get him up the stairs.

Getting Andy out of your car was a deal harder than getting him in, as he slipped further into his alcohol induced stupor. You almost dropped him when you wrenched him out of his seat, and you basically carried him to his room.

You somehow managed to get the door unlocked and drag him inside right when you heard his stomach roil. You cursed under your breath as you scrambled to get him to the bathroom, shoving his head in the toilet just in time as he emptied his gut.

“Shit, Andy.” You hissed, your hands on your knees as you tried your best to breathe deeply and get accustomed to the scent of his alcohol-soaked stomach contents. Once you were sure he was relatively stable, you moved to the kitchenette and filled a glass with tepid water before returning to find him leaned back against the wall. “Drink.” You ordered, kneeling beside him and bringing the glass up to his lips.

His eyes locked onto yours as he chugged the water down greedily. No sooner had he swallowed the glass’ contents than he was lunging forward to throw it back up. You tutted worriedly as you rubbed a hand over his back and used the other to start the shower.

“Why the fuck are you here, Y/N?” He grumbled miserably, not bothering to lift his head as you dragged his coat over his shoulders and threw out into the living area.

“I couldn’t have you killing yourself in my bar, Andy. Where’s your phone?” His stomach seemed to have calmed down, so you drew him to lean back against the wall and started to tug off his boots.

“S’in my back pocket.” He slurred at you. You rolled him over and drew the phone out of his jeans to set it on the counter. “You could’ve let me do it here.”

“Nah.” You said. “If you quit coming around, what excuse am I gonna have to kick Neal out?” You rolled up your sleeves and thrust your hand under the shower’s flow, checking the temperature. “Hey, don’t you dare pass out on me!” You slapped him in the face as he started to doze off and you worked on getting him undressed. “I’m fucking serious, Barber, you don’t get to drink yourself to death on my watch.” You finally got his shirt off and started to drag his jeans down his legs.

“But why?” His eyes were boring into you now, pleading for some kind of answer to what possible reason there was for him to stick around as they welled up with tears.

You chewed your lip as you thought about it.

Andy had been a fixture at your bar for years. Always coming by for a celebratory drink after a win, or when he was working late on a difficult case. Even during Jacob’s trial, he’d stopped by with Joanna a few times to hash out details of the case. No matter how much stress he was under, you were always able to make him smile, and he always left a very generous tip no matter who was serving him. Your bar had been one of the only places he’d always felt welcome, and you had no qualms about kicking out anyone who wanted to give him a hard time.

Then the crash happened. He lost Jacob first; he was DOA to the hospital. His visits to your bar were more somber then. You didn’t try to make him smile, you barely even talked to him. But you’d drink with him in silence when he was the last patron in the bar, sitting across from him in his booth as the rest of the staff shut things down, occasionally placing your hand over his and rubbing your thumb over his knuckles in a comforting gesture.

They had taken Laurie off life support 2 weeks ago, and after her funeral was when he really started to spiral. Rather than nursing his usual three drinks, he was downing whole bottles a night. You had to instruct your staff to cut him off after 6, or he would end up like he was tonight. This wasn’t the first time you had caught him with a stolen bottle.

You couldn’t say why you cared so much. You weren’t even sure you were really friends. But through everything that happened, you seemed to be the only constant, an anchor point for him as his world fell apart.

“I dunno Andy.” You murmured as you drew off his socks before rolling him into the tub with a lurch, making him gasp as the cold water hit his skin. “I guess I’d miss you.”

He glared at you as he shivered under the shower’s stream, huddled around himself in only his boxers.

“Do I need to wash you, or do you think you can handle that on your own?” You asked, handing him a washcloth and some soap.

“I can handle it.” He hissed, snatching them from your hands as he braced himself against the wall and drew himself slowly to his feet.

“Good.” You started gathering up his soiled clothes. “Make sure to wash the vomit out of your beard.”

He ripped the shower curtain closed and tossed his boxers over the rail at you, grumbling the whole time. You bagged up his dirty laundry and set some clean sweats on the counter in the bathroom before you set to work on cleaning the rest of the hotel room, doing your best not to gag at the week-old takeout containers.

Andy staggered out of the bathroom 30 minutes later, rubbing a towel through his hair as he wobbled on still drunk legs.

“How’s your stomach?” You asked, stretched out on the couch and sipping a glass of ginger ale.

“S’better.” He murmured, stumbling his way to the bed and collapsing on it with a groan.

“And your head?”

“Fuck you.” He murmured with his face buried in the pillows.

You grabbed the garbage can from the bathroom and set it next to the bed. “Make sure you sleep on your side or your stomach. I’ll be on the couch.” You turned to leave and he grabbed your wrist, pulling you back.

“No, stay with me.” He mumbled, peeking up at you through those stupid long eyelashes, his damp hair drooping over his forehead.

“You’re still drunk, Andy.” You scolded, snatching your wrist away from him. You couldn’t deny you’d thought about it before, but there was no way you were going to let him make a move on you after the night he had. “I’m just 20 feet away, here to make sure you don’t choke on your own vomit overnight.”

You turned back to find him passed out, a thin trail of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. You rolled your eyes and turned off the lights before collapsing on the couch in a huff.

Andy woke up to the smell of sausage and eggs as you slammed the hotel room door, carrying some takeout from the greasy spoon down the road.

“Shit, I was hoping to sneak out before you were up.” You murmured as he rose up off the bed, his bedhead a sight to behold. “I got you breakfast.”

“What happened last night?” He groaned, his stomach churning as he inhaled the smell of the food you had brought in.

“Well, you stole a bottle of Woodford Reserve from my bar, drank more than half of it, then fought Neal.” You shoved a plate of food in front of him as he sat down at the island. “Then I brought you back here and held your hair while you puked your guts out.”

“Fuck.” He murmured, fighting the urge to gag as he eyed the plate in front of him. “How did I get in these sweats?”

“Don’t worry, I dumped you in the shower in your boxers, no looks at the goods. And even if I had, last night was decidedly unsexy.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” He murmured, burying his head in his hands.

“Mmhmm. Eat.” You ordered, making him groan. “Suck it up, Barber, you’ll feel better after a couple of bites.” You watched him shovel a bite in his mouth and chew dutifully, taking a deep breath as you steeled yourself for what you wanted to say. “Are you talking to anyone, Andy?”

“’M talking to you.” He said around his second mouthful off breakfast, starting to feel a bit better.

“I mean like a shrink.” You said, seriously.

“What the fuck is this?” He threw his fork down on his plate, pissed. This was none of your business.

“Andy, you’ve been drinking yourself stupid every night for the past 2 weeks. It’s not healthy, and I don’t want to be responsible for you ruining your life.”

He gave you a snort of derision and rolled his eyes as he stood up to walk away. “Fuck off.”

“Hey!” now you were angry. “I care about you asshole! You think I enjoyed last night? I’m sick of it!” You followed after him, grabbing his shoulder and turning him around sharply.

“It’s not your problem, Y/N.” He seethed at you, ripping your hand off his shoulder as he took a menacing step towards you.

“You made it my problem when you decided to use my bar as the stage for your descent to rock bottom, dick!” You were yelling now. “Y’know what, fuck this. Figure your shit out Barber. Until then, don’t step foot in my bar.” You stormed out, slamming the door behind you as you slipped your coat back over your shoulders.

“Fuck!!” Andy screamed before charging after you.

He managed to catch up to you as you were about to open your car door and he slammed it shut over your shoulder, pinning you against the driver’s side of your vehicle.

“I swear to god, Andy, I’ll mace you.” You hissed at him, turning as you dug your hand in your bag. He wrapped a massive hand around your wrist, stopping your turn halfway.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, pressing his forward to yours as he leaned against you. “I need you.”

“Andy…” this was such a bad idea.

“Why’d you stay last night?” He muttered, bringing his hand down to cup your cheek. “You said you care about me.”

“I do care, Andy.” You sighed as he took another step into you, pressing his body against yours. “Fuck, what’re you doing?”

“Stay.” He whispered, dipping his face to catch your lips with his and sending every objection you had right out of your head.

You sighed against him as you wrapped your hands in his hair, rolling your body against his. He ran his tongue over your bottom lip before pressing it against yours, his hands moving down to your hips and drawing you into him. You let out a whine as you felt his growing erection grinding against you.

“Shit.” You hissed as you felt a rush of arousal soak your panties. “Andy, we need to go back to the room.”

“Right.” He muttered, deepening your kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck and he lifted you off the ground as he drew you away from your car and started to head back towards the room, thankful he had left the door ajar.

You kicked the door closed as he carried you inside, giving a small huff when he sat down on the bed with you straddling his lap. You slipped your coat over your shoulders and tossed it aside as his mouth devoured yours, lips molding to each other as your tongues tangled.

Andy slipped his fingers under the hem of your tee and drew it over your head, throwing it on top of your jacket before unclasping the front of your lacy bra and nuzzling himself between your breasts. He rolled the two of you gently until he was on top of you.

You sighed as Andy moved his mouth over the slope of your breast to wrap his lips around one of your nipples, sucking softly as he moved one hand to dip beneath the waistline of your jeans. He groaned against your chest when he found you sopping wet for him.

“God, I need you, sweetheart.” He mumbled against your skin as he worked at unbuttoning your fly, dragging your jeans and panties down your legs and flinging them aside before bringing his hand back up to cup your heat. “Need to make you feel good. Lose myself in you for just a bit.” He moved his lips up to brush against your neck as he rubbed his fingers through your folds, spreading your slick over your mound and making you gasp, your fingers gripping his massive biceps tightly as he teased you.

“Andy, please.” You whined, canting your hips into his hand, your clit throbbing with need as the pads of his fingers brushed against it.

He brought his face up to yours as he plunged one thick finger into you, a smile teasing his lips as he watched your face screw up in bliss. He dipped his lips to meet yours as he added another finger, swallowing your small cry.

“You feel so good, beautiful. So warm and tight.” He scissored his fingers inside of you, drawing lewd squelches from your canal as your arousal soaked his hand. “Fuck me, you’re perfect.”

You scrabbled your hands over the broad muscles of his back as he curled his fingers inside you, massaging that soft, spongy muscle deep within your canal. He buried his face in your neck, murmuring soft praises as you came apart beneath him.

You mewled as he inserted a third finger, your cunt clenching around him as you thrust yourself onto his hand, fucking yourself on his digits.

“You close love?” He asked, his thumb brushing against your clit before he started massaging it gently. Pressing soft circles into your core as you writhed beneath him.

“Oh, fuck.” You muttered. “fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck……”

He felt you tense underneath him when he drove his thumb into your clit, hard. You choked on your tongue as every muscle in your body vibrated with pleasure, your release gushing over Andy’s hand and soaking him to the wrist. He felt your nails digging through his sweatshirt as you came.

He kept his fingers moving inside you as your rode out your orgasm, your body rolling in waves underneath him as your pleasure wracked you, leaving you breathless. Once you sagged back against the bed, he withdrew them, disconnecting from you reluctantly to remove his own clothes. Staring down at you, all he wanted was to press himself against every inch of you. Claim every slope and curve of your body for his own.

He gripped one ankle and brought it up to his mouth, skimming his lips over the jut of bone as his fingers skirted over your calf, pressing into the firm muscle there. His lips followed his fingers, searing your skin with each lingering kiss and brush of his tongue as he worked his way further up your leg. Your cunt clenched around nothing when he reached your thigh, his beard scratching at the soft skin between your legs as he marked you with lips and teeth. You tangled your fingers in the blankets and moaned when he bypassed your core, moving up the line of your hip as he claimed you.

Your breath was coming quicker as worked his way over your body. His lips swept against your abdomen now, his tongue dipping into your navel as he nuzzled over the midline of your torso. All you could focus on was the feel of his mouth on your skin, leaving a trail of electricity as marked you as his. He laved his tongue over first one nipple, then the other as you arched into him, pressing your thighs together as your pussy throbbed with need.

He moved to trace the curves of your shoulders, his breath hot against your skin as he kissed his way down first one arm, then the other. You were panting now, your thighs soaked as arousal seeped out of you. Andy traced his fingers over your torso, skimming over the slopes of your breasts as he moved to kiss the curve of your neck, sucking gently to draw light bruises as his hands moved lower, kneading into your hips. He drew your knees apart slowly, slotting himself between your thighs as he dragged his hard length through your folds, making you keen as he ground into you.

You were a mess, your breath coming in ragged gasps as his hips rocked against you. You were desperate for release, every inch of you tingling with need and when Andy’s cock brushed against your clit, you lost it. You threw your head back in ecstasy as your fingers scrabbled in the sheets, desperate to hold onto something to keep you anchored.

Andy just stared at you, one massive palm cupping your cheek as he watched you falling apart. He needed you so much, you were the only constant he had. The only person who didn’t make him feel like a charity case or a failure. He hated what he was becoming, what the secrets and the tragedy were turning him into, but he knew if you stayed with him, he could come back.

“Y/N,” He whispered as you relaxed and he stilled his hips, his thumb tracing your cheekbone as you slowly opened your eyes, gazing up at him through your lust blown pupils. “Promise you won’t leave me.”

“Andy,” a small voice in the back of your mind was trying to warn you, telling you not to commit to anything now while he was still drowning in his grief. But you were overwhelmed with the pleasurable assault he had subjected you to and when he pressed his lips to yours again, that little voice went away. “I promise.” You gasped when he released you.

He grinned at you as he lined himself up, resting his forehead against yours as he gazed into your eyes. You were so wet that he slid into you easily, bottoming out right away with a hiss.

“Fuck, honey.” He murmured against your lips as you whined, his hips setting a languorous pace as he pulled out halfway before thrusting back into you. “God, you’re so tight, you feel amazing.”

You couldn’t reply, you could already feel another orgasm building as you thrust your hips to meet his, mewling softly as the warm coil in your stomach tightened. You ran your fingers over his auburn beard before burying them in his hair, panting into his mouth as he brought you closer to the edge.

Andy brought one hand between the two of you and strummed his thumb against your clit, making you tighten your fists in his hair until it was painful.

“God, Andy, right there.” You sobbed, your cunt clamping around him as he moved to bury his face in your neck, nuzzling against the hollow behind your ear.

“Go ahead, beautiful.” He scraped his teeth over the edge of your jaw as he drove his thumb against you, and you screamed.

You fluttered around him as your body spasmed, multiple waves of pleasure rippling through you. Your knees gripping around his hips and squeezing as your torso rolled against his. You sank back against the bed with a sigh as your body relaxed, Andy still fucking into you and starting to pick up speed.

“I’m gonna move you, pretty girl.” He wrapped his arms around you and rolled until you were on top of him, pressing you against his chest as he kissed you deeply. “Wanna watch you ride me.”

You gave him a smile as you sat up, bracing your hands against his chest as you ground yourself against him. He was seated in you deeper than anyone had ever been, his cock dragging against that secret spot inside you with each drive of your hips, making you groan. He thrust up into you and groaned at the bounce of your tits while you let out a cry at his tip hitting your cervix.

Andy dug his fingers into your hips as he took over, pistoning up into with increasing speed as your cunt clamped around him. Your head rolled loosely on your shoulders as you let go, eyes fluttering as you felt another orgasm gathering.

You gripped his hips tightly with your thighs as it hit you like a truck, sobbing with pleasure while your muscles shivered over him. Andy sat up quick and caught you before you could collapse back on the bed, wrapping one hand around the back of your neck and catching you lips with his as his hips picked up even more speed.

“Shit.” He murmured against your lips. You felt his cock twitch inside you as his hips faltered in their rhythm. “Are you on the pill honey?”

You nodded vigorously, unable to speak as Andy’s violent thrusts had knocked all the breath out of your lungs and you were gasping.

“Good. Fuck.” He nipped at your lips before shoving his tongue down your throat.

You felt warmth spread through your abdomen as he shot his release into you, his thick spend coating the slick walls inside you and leaking out over your thighs as he fucked you through it. He slowed his thrusts as you felt him soften inside you, groaning into your mouth as he came down and collapsed back against the bed, holding you close to his chest.

His chest hair scratched against your cheek as he breathed deeply, trying to slow his heart rate back down and rubbing his fingers over your spine as you panted on top of him.

Neither of you spoke for a while, content to lie in the comfort of each other’s arms. You made Andy feel safe, and he made you feel needed, and that was all the two of required for now.

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embrassemoi · 3 years

Text

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 34

Pairings: Sirius B, F!Reader, Remus L Warnings: DARK THEMES, heavily implied domestic abuse (the Black family) A/n: I’m editing this in a restaurant rn. Nobody can say that I’m not committed! Anyway, if there’s more errors than usual, it’s bc I’m on mobile. Sorry!

【 Masterlist | Previous Chapter | ao3 】

Chapter 34: Secrets of Our Souls

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Meet me at our place at midnight. Be careful. Make sure nobody follows you. R.A.B

Y/N read the letter several times before folding it in half while her eyes glazed the crowd of students in the Great Hall in search of Regulus.

A no-show.

Since the start of the term, she’d been trying to get hold of Regulus but her attempts were futile. He was as finicky as a shadow, never staying still long enough for her to grasp, to spot.

Everything about his inconspicuous disappearance and the peculiar letter left her deeply unnerved. He'd even gone as far as using a different owl to respond to her letters; not the usual Black family owl.

In many ways, Regulus was mysterious; highly unusual — dare she say frightening.

“Oh!” Marlene exclaimed. “A secret admirer?”

“Give it back!” Y/N said indignantly as Marlene pried the letter from her hand, unfolding it. Before she could read the contents, Y/N nearly tackled it out of her grasp, snatching it back while Marlene pouted. “It’s private.”

Continuing to sulk, Dorcas smiled at Marlene. From between the sliver of space from under the wooden table and their bodies, she watched as Dorcas held Marlene’s hand; thumb grazing over her knuckles. Y/N eyed them questioningly.

“What are you not telling us?” Dorcas mused, leaning on the table with a sly smirk.

Marlene snapped her fingers. “Oi! Ginger snaps!”

Lily peered over, smile vanishing, placing her fork down. “Did you just call me a…?”

“Would you prefer traffic cone then?” Mary teased.

“I like Carrots more.” Dorcas added, shyly.

“Anyway, you two are pretty much attached,” Marlene said. Had she known better, she would have recognized Marlene’s tone for jealousy. "Who sent that letter?”

Lily shrugged but her face turned downwards at her uncomfortable body language. “She said it’s private. Leave it.”

The conversation ended at that.

Y/N felt a little nudge under the table and as she looked up, Lily’s head was tilted, conveying the silent question, ‘are you okay?’ She didn’t answer as a couple of first years bounced up to Marlene, tugging down on her sleeve. She turned to them, flicking her blond hair out of her face with a wide smile.

One first year was close to tears, another one standing on their tippy-toes to whisper something in her ear.

“Please can you come to the common room? It’s scary and I-I miss my dad!” One of the first years cried out.

Marlene cooed, hugging them lovingly. With a nod, she stood and pressed a kiss to the side of Dorcas’ cheek. She managed to make it seem like she was whispering in her ear before turning back to the group. “See you tossers later!”

Dorcas watched Marlene walk away. First years jumping, hanging off of her while Dorcas’ fingers grazed the spot on her face where she kissed her. She dazzled radiantly.

Before midnight, Y/N left her dorm, heading to the Marauder’s room and knocked on their door. She vaguely heard footsteps approaching before it opened.

She smiled before she could even register it. “Moony.”

He grinned widely. “Whiskers,” Remus said pleasantly, leaning against the door frame, his hair falling slightly over his eyes. “How may I help you?”

“Seeing you has already helped a lot.” She joked while Remus blushed madly. She laughed at his reaction. “I need to talk to Bambi.”

Remus had his eyebrows raised but opened the door wide and beckoned her in.

She noticed a bed pushed far to the left, isolated from the other beds. The curtains were almost nearly closed aside from the sliver that was still open. Black was there, book in hand with a few pieces of parchment laid surrounding him. He was already looking up at her.

They truly isolated Black from them in every way possible.

“Oh hey, Y/N.” Peter smiled before throwing her a small wrapped sweet her way. “Greetings!”

“Thanks, Pete!” She caught it. And dropped onto James’ bed. His glasses were strewn, laying on his bedside table as he flicked through his book.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Do you mind if I borrow your invisibility cloak tonight?”

James surprisingly didn’t push further as he simply went through his trunk and threw her the cloak, only asking that she would be careful with it.

She hopped out of the room, rushing out to the cold corridors and threw the cloak over her head. As she passed through various hallways, she finally opened the door to her and Regulus’ small hideout. A couple of candles were lit and the familiar Slytherin and Gryffindor blankets clashed together.

Huddled in the corner of the room on the couch, small and curled with his legs pressed against his chest and chin perched on his knees, Regulus was there, shaking.

She rushed up to him, keeping her hand visible and only touching him when he realized it was her. Consoling people was always a challenge in itself.

“What happened?”

Regulus’ voice was strained and tired. “C-can you hug me? Please?”

Her heart could have shattered as she roped him into a large, crushing hug. His aching sobs crashed through her chest. Y/N’s arms were tight around Regulus, his head face pressed against her shoulder and she could feel his tears seep through her shirt. Doing the best she could, she soothed him, petting his hair.

She couldn’t tell just how much time had passed until Regulus’ snuffles calmed down as he harshly wiped his tears. It was the first time she was able to truly get a close-up of how he looked.

To put it lightly, Regulus looked like shit.

Any of that regal, youthful glow of his diminished. And she realized it only faded whenever he went home. His skin was dull and grey, eyes sunken. Even his long hair was cut lopsidedly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked.

“I… It’s…” Regulus trailed off, face full of worry and trouble. “It’s…”

“It’s okay,” she rubbed her hand up and down his shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me.”

But something caught her eye. Regulus’ trousers rode up in his shaking state. A large bandage was wrapped messily on his leg. The skin around the bandage was red and a few scars peaked out. But as soon as she realized, he had too and quickly pulled the fabric down.

“... What is that?” She asked softly. She didn’t know what it was, but something heavy sunk in her chest — the feeling of sickening, frightening dread.

He refused to answer.

“You have to get that checked out —”

“No!” Regulus shouted, complete panic filtering through his face.

“Whatever that is, it isn’t going to heal properly if we don’t.”

Regulus debated for a while and she saw the conflict on his face before relenting. “I’m embarrassed by it…”

She mustered up any kind of energy left and smiled. “I won’t judge you.” She managed to catch his eye and held it. She went over her options quickly.

1. Leave Regulus?

Option one was already tossed out the window. The weight of the situation was far too grave to continue to let it slide by again and again.

2. Press further?

But how?

3. Make him feel comfortable?

Bingo.

If he was ashamed by his scars, then maybe if she showed hers…

She turned to Regulus, lifting her sleeve. A scar ran across her forearm from Snape’s attack during the Quidditch match.

“I got this a couple of months ago in a nasty fight.” Then she pointed to the small scar on her leg from when she was dragged by Moony. "I got this from an accident."

But then, she sucked in a deep breath, mustering up all her bravery and courage, pushing down every bit of insecurity. She tugged down the collar of her shirt a bit, just enough to reveal the top of a much more faded scar that travelled down to her sternum. “And I got this from a heart surgery.”

She fixed her shirt to sit properly again. “I was born with a heart defect. It went undetected until my mom found me, hardly breathing and had to perform open-heart surgery on me. I was supposed to die but here I am. Healthy and alive and I haven’t had a problem since.”

Regulus looked up at her wide-eyed and his body became less stiff.

“I used to be so… ashamed of it. Maybe I still am, I never talk about it… Only you, my mom and someone at Ilvermorny knows. But my point is, I am more than my scars, and you are too.”

She swallowed her fear, now cursing herself and resolved to shut up. Waiting, she wondered that since she showed him the scars that perhaps he would too.

Regulus considered her, almost astonished, finally moving to pull up his trousers and peeling off his bandage, wincing while doing so.

It felt like a cold bucket of water was splashed all over her body. She desperately tried to keep her face blank as the overwhelming urge to cry while combating the wave of nausea hit her.

His skin was butchered — fiery red. They weren’t neat, like what a surgeon's scalpel would be like, but messy, crisscrossed and viciously deep. It had hardly healed and they were old enough to be a little over a week or two old. And undoubtedly painful.

Whoever did that to him was enraged, furious.

“Shit… Regulus… who did this?” She asked quietly, more to herself than him as he remained silent. She stood, commanding, “We need to get you fixed up.”

“It’s not that b —”

“Stop lying.”

“Just don’t take me to the hospital wing.”

Wanting to know more, she was too afraid that any more prying would result in Regulus completely shutting down and withholding more information. Instead, she picked up the invisibility cloak, threw it over him and wrapped an arm underneath Regulus' arms to help him walk out of the room.

She went to the only other place she knew she would be able to offer any resemblance of help.

Once reaching the Potions classroom, muttering Alohomora, Y/N helped Regulus sit down comfortably at one of the extra tables and immediately got to work. All sorts of magic went around as she grabbed an extra textbook and flipped to the Essence of Dittany page.

Shelves, jars and cabinets opened and closed on their own accord, all taking ingredients as they fell into a boiling cauldron.

“What are you doing?” Regulus questioned, nervously drumming his fingers on the table.

“Making you something.”

It was still between them. She didn’t know what to say, only what to do. Everything went through her mind like a step-by-step process, like a robot categorizing its own emotions.

Because what was the right response to something like this?

She stared at the bubbling cauldron, slowly stirring to avoid eye contact. “You don’t have to tell me but… you didn’t do this to yourself —”

“No,” Regulus said, calmly and steadily.

“Then… to the person — people who did… will they bother you again?”

“Probably not… I’ll be okay.”

It wasn’t the answer she was hoping for.

Once the potion was completed, she poured it inside an applicator and made sure to cast a quick cleaning spell. A soft blue glow emitted around his leg until disappearing. She looked up to him, fisting his shirt and shoved it inside his mouth. “I’m sorry, this is going to hurt.”

She took the applicator, pouring a couple drops onto his wound. A greenish smoke billowed around them as it bubbled on his skin. The skin was stitching itself back together and over his wound. Regulus moaned in pain, fist banging on the wooden table.

She finally pulled the cloth from his mouth once down and ran across the room to find more clean clothes to dab off the sweat from his face. Y/N thought for a second he was going to faint.

“I’m so sorry Reg… Sorry…”

He didn’t say anything for a while, only nodding in response meanwhile she monitored his condition. She gave him the wrapped candy that Peter gave her, hoping that it would help him regain some energy. She was beginning to grow worried that she might’ve brewed it incorrectly as her mind mulled over possible counter potions.

“I know… you said... you don’t talk to my brother much…” Regulus croaked out. She closed the book, rushing up to him. “But... you are in the same friend group… right?”

She chewed the inside of her cheek. A white lie wouldn’t hurt.

“Things changed. We’re friends. Why?”

There was a long pause. “Is he okay?”

A million questions went through her. Even if they were estranged, wouldn’t he know?

“He’s okay.” Lie. “He’s just been… stressed as of late.” True.

“Is he still staying with the Potter’s?”

“Yes.”

He smiled, eyelids drooping but everything about it told her something wasn’t right. “I’m glad.”

Regulus refused to let her help him walk back to the dungeons and left with his wound almost fully healed. And she was left with more questions than any answers as she slithered into bed.

What was he not telling her?

But then she thought about the summer with Matthew. Why had he been so surprised that she had been with a member of the Black family? Or how did he even know them? What was it about them that commanded so much respect and international recognition?

A couple of footsteps padded her way and Y/N felt her bed dip, a weight sliding beside her.

“Are you okay?” Lily whispered. “Been worried about you these past couple of days.”

“Yeah,” Y/N said, turning to the side to look at Lily through the night. “Jolly.”

“You sure? It can be our secret?”

She remained quiet and it gave Lily her answer. She turned onto her side before mumbling. “Feel free to stay tonight.” When she didn’t feel Lily leave, but she wiggled around to become comfortable, she sighed, forcing herself to sleep.

There was certainly far too much happening in her life at the moment for her to fully care about Lily’s bizarre and avoidant behaviour. She just wanted the next day to come.

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

The next few days were uncomfortable and Y/N was beyond exhausted.

Breakfast was nothing more than her sipping on a glass of water, studying the Slytherin table, worried for Regulus.

Was he being bullied? Was he… no… the wound was a bit too old for it to have taken place at Hogwarts.

She spent most of the day in the library, simply reviewing her Herbology and Advanced Potions textbook.

Much to James’ dismay, all the free periods they had in sixth year were due to the overwhelming work and increased difficulty in lessons. Fortunately for Y/N, Potions was partially a free class and she never had to worry about it aside from the essays. It was far too easy.

During class, she would figure out new techniques, tricks, but to her dismay, Slughorn had really enjoyed how both she and Snape performed together and often paired them up during potions. She hated to admit it, but there was a reason why Snape was a favourite student of Slughorn. He had talent. Although, he was in a permanently vindictive mood around her which made him even more unbearable.

The tip of her eagle-feather quill moved across the pages of the textbook and she pulled back momentarily to review her book.

Nightshade… Powdered silver… Stewed Mandrakes… Slughorn had said it helped werewolves… What if Remus —

“Whiskers! There you are!” James said, strutting up. He sat down on the couch beside her, both tucked away in the corner of the library.

She gave a little wave of her fingers before closing her book. James suddenly became slightly dejected at her reaction. She couldn’t force herself to put on a show.

“Something wrong?”

Y/N felt like there were no answers to everything that had been happening recently. Only if Matthew was there.

But James was.

“I need to ask you something.”

His head swivelled around to see if anyone with prying ears was listening in before nodding.

“Could you tell me about the Black family?”

She had never seen James go so rigid. His cheek hallowed as he chewed the inside of his cheek and waited for her to elaborate.

“I know I don’t talk about it but Regulus is a friend of mine.” She didn’t miss the way James stiffened further at that. “And he’s… worrying me. He’s… god, I don’t know what to say.”

James threw up a silencing spell, encircling them. “It’s okay, go on.”

“Regulus’ leg was butchered. I think he’s being bullied or it’s darker than that.”

James’ skin, which was usually a warm, rich look, seemed as if it paled, almost giving him a gray appearance. “Did he say anything about his family?”

“No. But he never talks about them. Is that the reason why Black stays with you?”

“Even with the non-existent respect I have for Black, I feel like I can’t tell you much,” James said and she understood why. “But the Black family — they’re fucking insane. Their Pureblood mania is probably one of the worst I’ve ever seen.” James took a moment to look at her reaction after mentioning blood purity. “He has a reason to be scared of them.”

“So you’re telling me that his family… they hurt him?”

James looked down, the gravity of their conversation finally hitting him. He took off his round glasses, rubbing his temples. “I’m not sure. Maybe? It was probably another Slytherin. His parents… love him — I don’t see them laying a hand on him. He didn’t mention running away? Did he?”

“No.”

She heard James curse under his breath as he grabbed his hair out of habit. “I’ll talk to him.”

“About what? You can’t tell him I told you, he’ll —”

“Relax. I won’t. I’ll ask him to move in with me.”

Y/N felt like she could faint there and then. Everything in her body felt wobbly, weak as she grappled with the idea of Regulus and his home life. Then Black… did he also go through what Regulus has been through? The thought made her sick.

James’ voice tugged her back to reality. “Promise me something.” She waited for him to continue.

“I know Regulus is your friend and that he’s going through a rough time but…” James struggled with his words. “But… be careful around him. He’s not much of a threat but his family is. There’s a reason why Black lives with me; no matter how angry, how much I hate him, I would never let him go back there. To them.

“The war is approaching and they have eyes all on Regulus — watching everything he does.”

Goosebumps covered her entire body. Everything James said sounded more like an underlying threat of sorts. She wondered if that was the reason why he refused to be seen with her publicly. “Are you saying that he’s a Death Eater?”

“No,” James responded briskly. “But it’s not to say his parents won’t force him to. If you knew his family, you would understand —”

Both students snapped their heads up from the figure slowly approaching them as James eased off the silencing charm.

Professor Elway was there, holding a large leather-bound book and a stack of parchment, most likely essays she had to grade. She only gave a small nod to James before smiling widely at Y/N which caused James to mutter something vaguely familiar that sounded like ‘favouritism.’

“Ms. L/N! How wonderful to see you!” Elway was enlivened. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Oh! Erm — thank you?”

Elway laughed, “Your work has been incredible! I’m very impressed.”

She felt James nudge her under the table.

“Oh!” The professor exclaimed. “There’s a Duelling club session tonight I’m supervising. I’d love to see you there?”

“I’m sorry, but we have a paper due in Transfigurations.” James helped, cutting in for her. She felt herself relax into her chair.

In no time, Defence Against the Dark Arts became Y/N’s favourite class and duelling was incredibly fun, but all she wanted to do was sleep. Perhaps another time…

Professor Elway gave a little sigh but nodded her head. “Then I’ll see you next session! Have a good day, Ms. L/N and Mr..?”

“Potter.”

“My apologies, Mr. Potter. Have a fine day!”

While they watched her leave, both students were left with a similar deep, icy trepidation that clawed at their soul and a single question heavy in their hearts.

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

【 Next Chapter 】

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raysofcrosby · 3 years

Text

WLTAY BONUS CHAPTER SNEAK PEEK

below the cut is a sneak peek of the second half of the bonus chapter: "there's a piece of my heart in plymouth, mi." clearly i have zero self control, but enjoy 🤪

“Mommy, can Ollie come in the bath?” Scarlett asked, resting her chin on the side of the bathtub.

“Ollie already had his bath, sweetie, we’re just waiting for you two to finish up so he can go to bed.” Caroline replied, keeping her hands on Oliver’s sides as he held onto the side of the bathtub, patting his hands against it. “I know Ollie, we want to go to bed don’t we?”

“Here, Owwy.” Payson smiled, handing Oliver a purple plastic fish that went with their magnetic fishing pole bath time set. “Fishy.”

Oliver squealed, shuffling his feet side to side as he reached out with his right hand to grab the fish.

“No, PayPay!” Scarlett pouted, grabbing the toy before Oliver could and holding it. “He’s too tiny, he’ll eat it.”

Payson glared at Scarlett, mirroring Matt’s frustrated look before she grabbed the little bucket bobbing along beside her and tossed the water inside at Scarlett. The toy inside of it, flying out and hitting her while the water splashed Oliver as well— who immediately burst into tears both at Scarlett taking the fish and the water hitting him in the face.

“PAYSON!” Scarlett whined. “Why did you do that?”

“Alright, bath time is over,” Caroline said, resting Oliver on her hip before standing up and grabbing the two hooded bath towels. “Come on, let's get out.”

“Mommy no!” Payson cried, still sitting down in the water as Scarlett crawled over the edge of the tub.

“Out PayPay,” Scarlett said, turning towards the bathtub and resting her fists on her hips. “You ruined bath time!”

“I sowwy!” Payson wailed, shaking her head as her face turned red and tears fell down her cheeks. “Stay pwease”

“You know we don’t throw toys, Payson,” Caroline sighed, leaning over the bath tub and reaching out for Payson’s hand, only for Payson to snatch it away and scoot back. “Do you want me to count to three? If I have to count to three, you’ll have a 1 minute time out tomorrow.”

“No twree,” she cried, splashing her legs in the water. “No twree, no twree, no twree!”

Caroline closed her eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling as she opened her eyes. Bath time was so much easier whenever Matt or even Ethan were around. It was an extra pair of hands who could take Oliver while she attended to Payson, or even the other way around. But with the season going on, Matt would be traveling every now and then and Ethan was off in Plymouth, leaving just her to sort out the circus.

Most days were good days and the nights were good as well, but even the good days had bad nights— nights where one of the kids were just a little extra tired and grumpy and would push and test the limits— nights like this where all Caroline wanted to do was put them to bed, pour a glass of wine and just cry from the overwhelming routine she was still getting used to.

“Scar, sweetie can you go get Ollie’s walker for Mommy?” Caroline asked, looking down at Scarlett had put on her hooded towel and was holding Payson’s.

“Okay, Mommy,”she nodded, looking back at Payson. “Ethie would say you a bad girl, PayPay.”

“Scarlett Faith, go,” Caroline sighed, nudging her out of the bathroom.

“I want Ethie!” Payson cried, still sitting in the tub.

“Payson can you please get up? It’s time to go to bed,” Caroline asked, Oliver still crying and pressing his face into her side as she held him on her hip.

“No!” She yelled, crossing her arms. “I want Ethie!”

Yeah, well me too, Caroline thought.

“Ethie’s at school,” she sighed, leaning over and reaching for Payson’s hand again. “Just grab mommy’s hand and we’ll-“

“No! Mommy, mean!” Payson sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand before letting it plop back in the water. “Want Daddy! Want Ethie, no you!”

“Here, Mommy,” Scarlett said, pushing Oliver’s walker into the bathroom and standing in the doorway.

“Payson Rose, you have three seconds before I put Ollie down and pick you up. And if I have to pick you up, you will get a timeout tomorrow and no iPad.”

“No!” Payson pouted, crossing her arms.

“1…”

“I just wan play!” She cried, leaning forward and collecting as many toys in her hands before bringing her legs up to her chest and hugging the toys to her chest. “Let play!”

“2…” Caroline said, trying to tune out Oliver’s sobs in her ear, no doubt Payson’s tantrum making him cry too.

Payson shook her head, dropping her toys into the tub and scooting back towards the faucet. “Mommy, no!”

“3,” Caroline sighed, turning around and placing a crying Oliver into his walker before bending down and grabbing Payson’s ice cream hooded towel and climbing into the tub.

Payson, clearly tired, just cried and cried as Caroline stood her up and placed the towel on her. She brought her left hand up to her mouth, placing her middle and ring finger into her mouth as she kept crying, even after Caroline picked her up and placed her onto the bathroom floor.

Caroline could see the tiredness written all over Payson’s face as she dried her off with the towel, Payson sniffling in between sobs as she looked at Caroline with her big blue eyes, her fingers still in her mouth as Caroline used the hoodie to dampen her soaked hair. “M’sowwy Mo-mommy,” she sniffled, bottom lip quivering as she took her fingers out of her mouth and wrapped her arms around Caroline's neck. “I’m not bad girl.”

“I know Pay,” Caroline sighed, rubbing her back as she sat back on her heels and brought the hood down off of Payson’s head, using part of the towel to wipe away the snot and tears from her face. “You’re not a bad girl, you’re just tired. But you know we don’t throw toys, right sweetie?”

She nodded, sniffling. “No throw toys.”

“Good girl,” Caroline smiled, holding onto her sides. “We still have to do a timeout tomorrow because Mommy had to count to three, but only for a minute, okay?”

Payson nodded again, her pouty lips only accentuating her baby cheeks and her dark, long lashes framing her teary blue eyes. “I sowwy, Mommy.”

“It’s okay, baby.” Caroline replied, welcoming the hug from the tired toddler. “Make sure you apologize to Scar and we’ll get you ready for bed, okay?”

Payson leaned back, filled her cheeks with air as she puckered her mouth, waiting for a kiss. Caroline laughed and gave her a kiss, only for Payson to blow the air out of her cheeks like a raspberry and giggling. Something Matt always did whenever it came time to kiss them goodnight.

“You are your Daddy’s daughter,” Caroline laughed, kissing the top of her head before looking at Scarlett. “Scarlett, will you take Payson to your guys’ room? I’ll be right behind you.” Caroline said, reaching back into the tub and lifting the drain.

“Okay, Mommy,” Scarlett nodded, walking by Oliver and over to Payson, pulling the hood onto her head. “Come on PayPay.”

Payson was still sniffling as Scarlett put her arm over her shoulder and walked alongside her and out of the bathroom, heading to their shared room. Leaving Caroline and Oliver in the bathroom.

“Are you ready for bed my sweet boy?” Caroline asked, bending down and taking Oliver out of his walker. He had stopped crying the moment Payson walked out of the bathroom, his cheeks still wet from tears as he yawned. “Was that a yawn?” Caroline gasped playfully, poking his belly as he curled up against her. “Let’s get you to bed,” she whispered, kissing the top of his head.

She turned left down the hall where Scarlett and Payson’s room was, poking her head into the room to see them sitting on the floor in the middle of the room. “I’ll be right back to get you girls ready for bed, okay? Say goodnight, Ollie.” Caroline whispered, waving her hand at the two girls.

Oliver lifted his arm slightly, waving it lazily before bringing it back into his chest, hand grabbing at her necklace and instead getting the collar of her shirt.

Scarlett ran over, tugging at Caroline’s shirt and standing up on her tippy toes as she puckered her lips to kiss him goodnight. Caroline leaned down and let Scarlett kiss his cheek. “Night night Ollie,” Scarlett smiled, turning around. “Payson Rose, say night night to Ollie, now! Ethie would!”

Payson pushed herself up onto her feet and walked over. Her blonde curls were already dry from having the hood on her head, her blue eyes still wet with tears and Matt’s signature pout on her face as she leaned up and kissed Oliver’s cheek. “Night Ollie.”

“If you guys are in your pj’s by the time I get back, I’ll read you a bedtime story.” Caroline said, standing back up as the Scarlett scrambled to their closet, pushing the door open where their plastic dresser had a drawer that held their pajamas.

Caroline walked down the hall towards her and Matt’s bedroom, stopping at the door on the right where Oliver’s nursery was. They were preparing to move his crib over into his own room next month, so for right now, they did everything in the nursery, but he always slept in their room.

Oliver has his fingers twisting in her hair as she reached into the dresser to grab him some pajamas before laying him down on his changing table, having to blow raspberries against his cheek to get him to giggle and let go of her hair. She handed him one of his favorite toys, a small stuffed turtle, to keep him occupied while she put on his pajamas, getting his pants on first and then his owlet sock before tickling his belly as she took the turtle away so she could sit him up and put on his shirt.

“Is it bedtime?” She asked, smiling as she tickled his sides, getting him to giggle as he brought a hand up to his mouth. “Yes it is, it’s time to go night night.”

She picked him up and cradled him in her arms as she left the nursery and walked into her bedroom over to his crib. She leaned down and kissed his cheek before lowering him down into his crib. She rested her arms on the side of the crib, reaching down and rubbing his belly with her left hand. “Sweet dreams Ollie,” she smiled, as Oliver cooed and grabbed at her hand as she reached up and poked his nose. “I love you.”

His dark brown hair was fluffy and his eyes had recently started to darken from the light blue he was born with, to Caroline’s hazel— officially making him her own little mini, besides the dimples in both cheeks whenever he smiled, that was all Matt.

She reached over by the dresser and turned on the galaxy night light that spun stars out on the ceiling, something they only kept on for the first 30 minutes after they put him down for him to go to sleep. She walked out of the room, leaving the bedroom door open just a crack before walking back down the hall and heading to the girls room.

She walked in to see Payson already curled up beneath her blanket of her new crib toddler bed, since she was getting way too good at escaping her crib, and Scarlett sitting on her bed holding a bunch of books in her arms. “Did you cover Payson up?” Caroline whispered, walking over to Payson.

“Yes, Mommy,” Scarlett nodded. “She was too tired to wait.”

Who would’ve thought that the peaceful curly headed blonde curled up beneath her Disney Princess blanket had been throwing the world's biggest tantrum only minutes earlier. Caroline pulled the blanket down below Payson’s shoulders before leaning down and kissing her temple, then turning around and walking towards Scarlett’s bed. “Okay, what do you want to hear tonight?”

“These please,” Scarlett smiled, handing the stack of books up to Caroline.

“I don’t know about all of these,” Caroline laughed, taking the books from her and sitting down, spreading them out on the bed between her and Scarlett. “I saw those big yawns during bath time, I know how tired you are. So if you could have only one story tonight...which would it be?”

Scarlett looked at the row of books and picked one up, handing it to Caroline before crawling out of bed and grabbing the rest of her books in her arms, running over to the book nook and coming back over, crawling back into bed. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Caroline sat next to her and rested the book between them before reading the cover. “I am Not Sleepy and I Will Not Go to Bed, featuring Charlie and Lola,” Caroline read, smiling down at Scarlett. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

Scarlett giggled, shaking her head as she nudged the book open. “Just read Mommy.”

Caroline smiled as she turned the pages before reaching the first of the story. “I have this little sister Lola. She is small and very funny. Sometimes I have to keep an eye on her. Sometimes Mum and Dad ask me to try and get her off to bed. This is a hard job because Lola likes to stay up late.” Caroline turned the page and looked down at Scarlett as she rolled onto her left side, curling up against Caroline’s leg.

“Lola likes to stay up colouring and scribbling and sticking and wriggling and bouncing and most of all chattering,” she turned the page. “Usually, when I say, ‘Lola, Mum says it is time for bed,’ she says, ‘No! I am NOT sleepy and I WILL NOT go to bed.’ I say–”

“No mommy,” Scarlett said, reaching her hand up and touching the page. “You have to do the voice like Ethie does.”

Caroline frowned but quickly recovered with a half-hearted smile. “Well, how does Ethie say it?”

“Like this,” she spoke, trying to deepen her voice as best as her four year old self could. “Talk like Ethie, he reads this to me, ‘cause it's our book.”

“Okay, sweetie, I’ll try my best,” Caroline nodded, clearing her throat and turning back to the book. “I say, ‘But all the birds have gone to sleep.’ She says, ‘But I am not a bird, Charlie.’” Caroline tried her best to mimic Ethan’s voice and when she didn’t receive another critique from the still awake Scarlett, she figured it did the job and kept reading.

As she flipped through the pages, she occasionally checked to see if Scarlett was still awake and as they neared the end of the book, she was still fighting off falling asleep.

“‘Don’t be silly, Charlie, I wouldn’t let a hippipotimus get into my bed. But I think there’s one in yours,’ says Lola, as she climbs into bed. ‘Goodnight Charlie. Goodnight Hippipotimus,’ ‘Goodnight, Lola.’” Caroline finished, looking down to see that Scarlett had finally fallen asleep, still clutching the stuffed light brown bunny from build-a-bear that Keith had gotten for her birthday eight months ago. He’d dressed it as a St. Louis Blues bear as a joke against Matt, putting a sundress as another outfit in the box it came in, but Scarlett loved it– much to Matt’s dismay.

Caroline slowly stood up and closed the book, walking over to the small nook and putting it away before walking back over to Scarlett and covering her up the rest of the way. “Goodnight sweetheart,” she whispered, brushing back her dirty blonde hair and kissing her forehead before walking out of the room, turning off the light and turning on the constellation projector light, dimming the brightness and closing the door.

And then...it was quiet.

No crying, no yelling, no giggles or playing...it was just...quiet.

7:30 at night three months ago, she’d at least hear the TV in the living room going off with Matt meeting her in the living room so they could watch together. 7:30 at night three months ago, there would be the sound of video games, a netflix show or a facetime call coming from Ethan’s room.

But now both were silent and until the late morning hours when Matt came home...it would be just her.

Three months later and she still hasn’t gotten used to the neat and tidy empty bedroom across the hall from the girls room, Ethan no longer occupying it...at least for the next six months.

Caroline turned off the hall light and walked back down the hall to their bedroom, slowly opening the door and walking in, closing it behind her. She walked over to Oliver’s crib to see that he was sound asleep. She leaned against the crib, staring down at the sleeping baby and...just felt sad, that’s all she could describe. When Scarlett and Payson were born, she had the same feeling– knowing just how fleeting these baby days were before they turned into toddlers, then school aged children and then high schoolers who got embarrassed anytime you tried to say something and went off to fancy hockey programs and attended a high school almost 3,000 miles away.

It was just something that came with parenting– that knowledge that you were actively watching your kids grow up and turn into their own individual personalities. It’s not a bad thing, Caroline loves catching the little differences as they get older. Ethan calling her Momma turned into him calling her Mom the moment he turned 13, though when he was feeling super sentimental, he’d fall back into calling her Momma. Scarlett, ever the sass Queen, always used to climb up onto Matt’s lap the moment he sat down anywhere, but now she’ll nudge Payson to do it instead. And Payson, six months away from turning two, used to refuse to eat her sliced banana pieces, but now she’ll bounce besides Matt or Caroline chanting ‘nana’ as they cut one up for her.

Even Oliver, having turned five months old just a bit ago, was starting to babble more, inputting his baby gibberish whenever he saw someone and especially when Matt would be laying on the floor with him, gibbering right back. They were all growing up in front of her eyes and while they had been the entire time, it wasn’t until tonight that she realized just how sad it made her feel.

It didn’t help that Olivier was almost an exact replica of Ethan when he was a baby, and looking down at his sleeping figure, reminded Caroline of all the times she used to just sit and watch Ethan sleep when he was a baby. And it was only worse when she remembered that Ethan wasn’t down the hall anymore and he wasn’t that little baby that relied on her or the toddler who would shower her face in kisses or the child who would crawl into her bed when he felt sick. He was an almost 16 year old teenager who was off in Plymouth, following the footsteps of his Dad and Uncle and chasing his dream of playing hockey with some of the best.

Still, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t wish that he was that little eight year old again who wanted her to wash his hair because it made him feel better and then would crawl into her bed and snuggle beside her.

When Ethan had mentioned he got invited to the evaluation camp, Caroline was thrilled for him. She’d been through that process with Matt and knew just how big of an opportunity that was. Being invited to the evaluation camp meant that the NTDP scouts saw something special about you and your talent. She was already on maternity leave and being a month away from her due date, she was unable to go. But with both of their families already in Calgary, Keith and her Dad flew with Ethan to Plymouth and watched after him while he went through the tryout process. And when he came back, the next two months were just a waiting game for Ethan while the family adjusted around Oliver joining the bunch.

And when Ethan came home and let them know he was one of 22 players that got chosen for the U17 team, she was ecstatic for him, even through the moments she knew what that meant, she was happy. She was on the other side before, as a girlfriend, but now she was on this side as a parent and while she was happy for Ethan, she was also already missing him even though he was standing right in front of her. Matt was no help, because how would Matt know how to get through it? So she had relied on Chantal and Keith for a little bit of guidance, Chantal, as always, being the literal angel she was and helping Caroline navigate through what to expect now that the baby she’d raised for almost 16 years, was off and out of the house two whole years earlier than expected.

Even with all of her help, there was never a point where Caroline didn’t miss having Ethan with them in Calgary. And while the always missing him, super sad moments had faded out in September, there were still times even now, almost three months later where she would catch herself calling out for Ethan to come and help her or stop by his room to ask hima question. Those heavy moments of missing him have faded, but that didn’t mean there still were moments like this when she just got into bed and cried.

She would’ve called Matt, but he was in the middle of a flight back from Montreal and wouldn’t land for another two and a half hours. So she just turned off Oliver’s night light, crawled into bed and curled up beneath her blanket and just cried about how this was going to be her first birthday since she had Ethan, where he wouldn’t be there to celebrate with her...until she fell asleep.

“Mommy,” Scarlett whispered, leaning her face closer to Caroline’s ear and nudging her arm. “Mommmmmyyyyyy.”

Caroline opened her eyes, just as Scarlett sat back down onto her feet and her right hand holding onto Caroline’s arm. “What’s wrong?” Caroline asked, exhaling heavily as she sat herself up, looking over towards Olivers crib to see no disturbance. “Are you and Payson okay?”

“I had a bad dream,” Scarlett pouted, leaning against Caroline. “Where’s Ethie?”

“Oh, Scar…” Caroline sighed, patting her lap and letting Scarlett climb up onto it, wrapping her arms around her once Scarlett curled into her chest. “Ethie’s at school, remember? We said bye bye in Michigan in August and then we got on the big airplane.”

“But I have a bad dream,” Scarlett whined, rubbing her tiny fist against her eyes as she started to sob quietly. “Ethie a-always lets m-me sleep in his bed a-and gives me s-snuggles.”

“Sh, I know, sweetie,” Caroline whispered, rocking Scarlett back and forth. “Do you want to sleep in here tonight?”

Scarlett shook her head, wiping her face against Caroline’s shirt. “I want to sleep in Ethie’s room.”

“Okay, we’ll go to Ethie’s, just sit right here for Mommy really quick, okay?” Caroline sighed, reaching out and tossing the blankets off of her. She put Scarlett down onto the bed before walking over to the baby monitor that was sitting just by the end of Oliver’s crib, turning it on and walking back towards the bed, grabbing the other monitor on the bedside table. “Okay, ready?”

“Ready, Mommy,” Scarlett nodded, crawling off of the bed and grabbing Caroline’s hand with her right hand, dragging her towards the end of the bed before bending down and grabbing something.

“What are you holding, Scar?” Caroline asked softly, leading the two of them out of the darkened bedroom and back down the just as darkened hall.

“Groot,” Scarlett replied, her feet pattering against the floor as she tried to tug Caroline ahead of her.

As they stopped just outside of Ethan’s now opened door– which Caroline was more than positive had been shut earlier– she noticed that Scarlett had been kind enough to shut her bedroom door so Payson wouldn’t wander out. Scarlett clearly wandered into Ethan’s room earlier, not only because the door was open, but because she was holding onto the arm of the giant Groot plush Ethan had picked from the prize counter at Dave and Busters so he could match with Matt’s smaller one.

“Here, let me hold that baby and you climb onto Ethie’s bed,” Caroline whispered, taking the giant Groot from Scarlett’s tiny hand and nudging her into Ethan’s empty room.

When Scarlett climbed up onto Ethan’s bed, she crawled all the way over to the other side and dug herself beneath the blanket before holding her arms out for Groot. “Groot, please.”

Caroline handed the plush over, Scarlett shoving the body of Groot beneath the blanket before hugging it toward her and rolling over onto her side. Caroline peeled back the rest of the blankets and climbed into the bed, barely getting settled before Scarlett scooted into her side, Groot resting between them as she reached her arm over him and gripped onto Caroline’s shirt.

“Do you feel a little better now?” Caroline asked, brushing back Scarlett’s hair.

“Yes,” Scarlett sniffled, nodding her head as she buried it further into Caroline’s side. “When is Ethie coming back?”

“Daddy’s playing in Detroit next weekend, so instead of trick-or-treating, we’re going to fly out to watch Daddy play on Friday and then Ethie play on Halloween, Saturday. Daddy has the day off, so we’ll get to watch Ethie and then fly home together.”

“Is Ethie coming back with us?” She asked, tilting her head up at Caroline. “Or does he stay there?”

“Ethie will have to stay there sweetie, but he’ll be back around Christmas,” Caroline replied, a smile on her face. “Which means you’ll get to make cookies, play in the snow and maybe Ethie will help you write your letter to Santa.”

“And watch Grinch with me?”

Caroline laughed, nodding her head. “Oh yeah, Ethie will definitely watch the Grinch with you.”

Scarlett snuggled closer into Caroline’s side, still sniffling. “Do you miss Ethie too, Mommy?”

“Yeah,” Caroline whispered, exhaling heavily as she rested her cheek against the top of Scarlett’s head. “Mommy misses Ethie too.”

As she rubbed Scarlett’s back, Caroline couldn’t help but think about how this used to be her and Ethan. How back when it was the two of them, he used to crawl into bed and cuddle up beside her whenever he was sick or sad, or even just because. She would play with his hair or rub his back or his belly until he fell asleep and then she’d lay there thinking about how small he used to be and how sad, yet excited she was that he was growing up, but that he always came to her for that little bit of comfort. He was turning 16 in less than two months and long gone were the days where he’d ask her to wash his hair or crawl into their bed just because.

But there were still those moments where he’d just wrap his arms around her neck and hug her if she was sitting on the couch or how after a game, she was always the first person he’d give a hug too, after Scarlett rushed over to him. It was in those moments that she knew that even though he was grown up now and hugging or having your mom kiss you on the cheek was social suicide– he was still that boy who loved his Mom and would want that comfort, no matter how old he got.

#hehehe ugh i love this #surprise more children besides scarlett 🤪🤪🤪#wltay

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sicjimin · 3 years

Note

Hiii im so sorry if you are not taking requests, but i really love your writting style. I had this idea regarding this run (ep 4 i think) where the guys were doing like a circle of challenges and jk had to chug a little box of milk and then throw it in a bucket. When he failed, he had to do it again until making it. So i was thinking about him just chugging a lot of milk really fast and then when they finally finish the challenge and are all happy and giddy he just throws up

A.N : hello TT im sorry this request has been long overdue .. i hope this meets your expectations and you like it ! and i'm squeezing another request here as well, from this asks, as i think it fits into the story :] thank u for requesting and thank u for being patient with me TT im sorry once again this took a long time for me to work on (( and i cant find the gif from that ep TT))

TW : emeto

Jungkook knows that this game was a bad idea, like, drinking a carton of milk after spinning? They must have out of their minds.

But what can he do? right?

He is professional after all.

"Yah! Jungkook-ah! Let's switch", Seokjin's words from the other side of field making his eyes widen.

"What?", he asks in between catching his breath. His world still tilting after doing jegi and spinning for 2 times in a row.

" Let's switch, so we can win this fast", Seokjin says again as he walk over his spot.

He didnt get to mutters an argument as the PD-nim already asking them to start again, along with his members shout to start.

He gulps down faint taste of sick, as nausea start building up on the pit of his stomach. He feels dizzy.

Yet, he needs to spin again.

As the PD-nim yells start, and the stopwatch running, that's when his nightmare also starts.

Adrenaline start rushing in his blood, getting pumped while looking at the other members doing their own challenge until it comes to his turn.

"Jungkook!! come on you can do it"

"Jungkook! lets go!"

The members shout ringing on his head as he spins his body, stumbling over his feet as he finished, shakily open the milk, chugging it in one go and—

"Arrghhh!"

It missed.

They had to start again.

He pulled all of his remaining focus over his dizzy gaze as he start to spin after the other members finished their challenge, opened the carton of milk, chugging it again, and—

"YAAAA!", the members scream indicate that he succeeds. He yells in excitement as he began to cheers Jimin on the next challenge.

The scream got louder as Jimin managed to finish in one go.

They start running around the field, ending the torturous game and happily prepared the punishment for the staff.

Jungkook stand shyly on the end of the line, watching Jimin and Seokjin that grinning ear to ear as they put .. he doesn't know what kind of ingredients are there and is that even legal to blend together. The sight of the mixture makes him want to hurl.

He stands quietly, opening his mouth once or twice to give necessary comments as the camera still rolling on.

But he feels something is wrong with him, as everything starts kicking him—his too much spin, and his rapid consumption of milk...

He gulps.

The feeling of sickness slowly creeping into his chest.

He grimaced when it morph into a burp, leaving a sour gas that exactly smell and taste like milk, in his mouth.

He feels like throwing up.

"Yoongi hyung", he whispers, nudging the older beside him that still mesmerized with the staff drinking the weird mixture.

Yoongi didn't budge.

" Hyung", he tries again, louder this time, nudging the older with more force. His heart starting to race faster and his mouth start feeling sour. The milk is swirling in his stomach.

He's really going to be sick.

Yoongi finally turn his attention to him.

"What?" , he asks as he glance at him.

"Can we move out of camera for a while?", Jungkook asks, his legs tapping anxiously, trying hard not to throw up, which is not working since the smell of the milk keeps haunting him.

"Why?", Yoongi asked still looking straight at him. He could read the confusion in the elder's eyes.

" I don't feel well", Jungkook says, taking big breaths, and pressing his fingers to his lips, hoping that he won't accidentally gag as it has been sitting heavily on the back of his throat.

Yoongi frowns, but still grabbing his wrist without saying another words, signaling to the one of the staff that catch them, that they need to go.

They didnt go far, just to the other side of the field.

Jungkook quickly hunched over, breathing in and out deeply, trying to calm himself and ignore the churning in his gut.

"Are you going to be sick?", he heard Yoongi asking, but he didn't manage to mutter words as a harsh—and wet gag, erupted from his body, making him pitched forward, answering Yoongi's question.

He shuddered at the horrible sensation that engulf his body. It makes him more nauseous.

He hears his hyung sigh. And suddenly, arms are wrapping around his waist as he feels his shoulder press against his own, and hands rubbing soothing circles on his back.

" Just let it out, Kook-ah", Yoongi whisper.

He tries to listen—but the churning in his gut is more prominent, it makes him shut his eyes tight.

His hand clenched into fist, nails digging into his palm, as he feels warm liquid seeping on his throat.

And before he knows, he's gurgling out milk he just drank. Spraying messily into the grass below him, making a big puddle of white liquid.

He groan in agony, trying to swallow another round, but it keeps escaping through his throat.

"Uurrrkkk-", he retches again, bringing up a bigger stream of milk , making him gasp for air, coughing painfully.

"Shhh, Kookie", he hear Yoongi murmurs, massaging his nape gently, urging his body to let out everything that he wants.

Jungkook could hear mumbles behind him, maybe the members, or the staff, he didn't know. He was too busy fighting against the urge to throw up as his stomach seems to protest against everything he ate or drink—it keeps clenching and brings vomit up with each heave.

It felt like minutes later, or it might take more than minutes to make it go away, or for him to realize what is happening to him.

"Fuck..", he moans as he clutching his stomach and straighten his body when nausea finally subsided.

He sniffles as he watches the mess that he made.

"Hyung ..", he whimper as he look at Yoongi that return his gaze fondly.

He feels like crying.

He didn't want to look back and meet with the staff and members' expressions.

They must been disgusted with him.

" Yoongi hyung ..", he whimper once again.

"Come here", Yoongi says and opens his arms, beckoning for him, " Are you done?"

Jungkook stare for a second, blinking his tears away, and nods before burying his head on the older crooks.

"Want to go home..", he whispered as he clutch his fingers tightly on the older's shirt.

" Okay, Kook", Yoongi whispers, patted his back gently, rubbing comforting circles in his back, " We'll go now", he said as they walked away.

The rest of it went like a blur for him. He remembers a bunch of people asking him if he was feeling okay, what happened, etc, but Yoongi shut them up away, sternly asking the director to wrap up the shooting.

The next thing he know, he's already in the van, sandwiched between Jimin and Yoongi.

"We're going home, Kook-ah", he heard Jimin says softly.

"Yeah..", Jungkook answer. Feeling tired and sleepy.

It has been quite tiring today.

"Sleep now", Jimin said as he run his thumb over Jungkook's sweaty hands. Jungkook nods slowly, starting to doze off as Yoongi's fingers that carding his hair are lulling him off.

He closed his eyes as his mind started to drift off with darkness overtaking his sight, drifting off into sleep.

***

He didn't know how long he has been sleeping, but he knows that they were still in the van, and he's dizzier than ever.

He groans, blinking his eyes and lifting his head from where it laying against Yoongi's shoulder, that also fast asleep.

He feels dizzy, so much.

There was an odd taste in his mouth— maybe the remaining vomit— It makes everything worse for him.

He tries to shift in his seat—but blame his groggy body that responding to everything slowly— as he just realized how nauseous he actually is, and with the car moving, he suddenly moving his body, it feels like he's going to lose control and throws up right then and there.

As if on que.

He felt sick. So sick. Terribly sick.

A sharp pain on his stomach made Jungkook curl in his seat as he throw up.

A brown watery liquid spraying from his mouth and spurting messily in front of him, staining his pants, his seat, even Jimin's and Yoongi's side a little bit.

His eyes widen, and he could hear someone gasping, but his ears are ringing with adrenaline.

Before he could register anything, his body lurched again, bringing up more vomit.

He didn't even know if its food or drink. But it was a lot of it all at once. Like a wave, washing him with every drop of it.

"Uurrrkk-"

" Eww .. what the fuck—", Jimin curses under his breath when he feels something wet splashing beside him. "Jungkook! Shit "

"Pull over!", Yoongi yells.

The engine immediately coming to halt.

Jungkook could feel Jimin pulling his body slowly from the car, guiding him out for him to continue his vomiting session, " Let it out here, Kook-ah", Jimin says as he crouch beside the younger, running his hand over his back.

Jungkook pant heavily and wipe his mouth as he gags. Again.

"Hyung—", he chokes out before he throws up once more. Expelling the remaining of what his stomach still has. Yoongi is helping him out, wiping his forehead with tissues that he brought along.

It took him few minutes, until he left gagging emptily.

He felt weak—as if all energy leave his body as soon as his stomach stop spewing his guts from all the things that was inside.

" Better?", he heard Jimin softly asks, handing him bottle of water that he gratefully takes a sip, rinsing his mouth to get rid of the foul taste.

After his organs calmed down, thats when everything dawned on him.

"Hyung ...", Jungkook chokes out as tears springing on his eyes.

He feels .. horrible? embarassed? exhausted? You name it.

" 'm sorry..", he continues, his voice cracking, "I make a mess..", he mumbles, looking down on his clothes—the fabric soaked from the liquid he vomited earlier, and he feels his heartbeat accelerating.

His cheeks flushed red, feeling guilt gnaw at his insides.

"It's okay, Kook", Yoongi chimed in, pulling his tired body against him as he hug him tight.

" I'm sorry hyungie ...", Jungkook cries, leaning against Yoongi who rubs his back soothingly.

" I didn't mean to, I'm really sorry ...", Jungkook continues to sobs. Yoongi's words fall empty on his ears, drowning between his guilt and embarrassment.

"Yah, Kook, its fine. You're sick. You can't help it", Jimin said.

Yoongi hummed in agreement. " Are you feeling better now? You think you can continue the ride?"

Jungkook nods, still not lifting his head from Yoongi's shoulder. His fingers unconsciously playing with his hyung shirt.

Yoongi chuckles, "Yah, stop crying!"

"Sorry..", Jungkook mutters quietly, and he feels Yoongi pat his head reassuringly.

"It's fine Kook-ah, the driver and the others has cleaned the seat up, let's go back to our dorm, okay?"

Jungkook nods silently as Jimin helps him stand up from where he's squatting.

He snuggles his head on Jimin's shoulder as they seated, grimaces lightly as the smell of vomit still lingering in the car.

He wants the seat to open and swallow him whole.

Jimin chuckles lightly, sensing Jungkook's distress and embarrassment at once. "Just sleep Kook", he whispers, squeezing his hand. " No one held a grudge after you"

#bts sickfic #bts emeto #tw emeto #tw vomit #sick!jungkook #caretaker!yoongi #caretaker!jimin

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starksweasley · 4 years

Text

the art of being afraid

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader, pogues x platonic!reader

summary: the three times jj told you he loved you, and the one time you said it back.

note: this was inspired by the song “she’s not afraid” by one direction! also, send requests/messages/criticism/anything to my inbox; i’m open to pretty much anything :)

warning: angst, swearing, tears, underaged drinking, fluff

word count: 4.9k+

The full moon illuminated your room as you rushed to get ready for tonight’s rooftop party. You hummed as your hands delicately brushed blush onto the apples of your cheeks. Under the moonlight, you could have been mistaken for a greek goddess. You were swiping on a layer of dark red lipstick when the sound of a knock against your window startled you. You whipped around to see a golden-haired boy with a cheeky grin plastered onto his face as he balanced his body over the edge of your balcony.

“JJ!” In your haste, you struggled to unlatch the lock on the window. The moment it was open, JJ hopped into your room with his hands behind his back. “Hey, baby,” he greeted as you hurried to close your bedroom window before anyone in Figure Eight noticed something strange and decided to spread rumors about you.

“How the hell did you get up here? My room’s on the third floor!” You exclaimed.

JJ shrugged. “I climbed. Easy.”

You stood with your mouth open and a hundred scenarios ran through your head, all revolving around what could have happened if he had fallen from the third story of your house. JJ, well versed with the look in your eye, immediately decided to change the subject. He brought out his hands from behind his back and showed you a singular rose that looked like it had been plucked from your yard. “I came to give this to you.”

You gently plucked the flower from his hand. A thorn pricked your thumb but you didn’t mind. “It’s beautiful.”

“I know. It reminded me of you,” JJ responded without missing a beat, causing heat to creep up your neck. The boy’s hands lingered near yours and you leaned closer, desperately wanting to feel his skin against yours.

“Would you zip up my dress?” The black dress you were wearing hugged your body exquisitely. The top was cut a little low, just enough to tease the golden-haired boy beside you. You turned so JJ could pull up the zipper you couldn’t reach no matter how much you stretched. The boy sharply inhaled when he saw your bare back. His fingers danced on your soft skin and a shiver ran through your body, causing JJ to chuckle. “I didn’t know I had that effect on you, L/N.”

You huffed. “Shut up and pull the zipper, Maybank.” Your words came out annoyed but they didn’t phase JJ in the slightest. He simply pulled up your zipper and moved his hands so they rested on your hips. You hummed at the contact.

JJ began to slowly sway and you followed, your hands shooting up to hold his to your body. The two of you blissfully danced to the music in your heads and you closed your eyes, letting your body feel every small movement. JJ’s lips pressed a kiss under your ear. “You know,” he whispered, “we could dance like this all night at the party if we told everyone about us.”

Your body froze under his hands. “J, you know we can’t do that.” You turned just in time to see your favorite boy’s face drop at your words. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight.

JJ’s hands dropped from your hips and your body felt cold without his touch. His gaze fixed itself on your neck, refusing to meet your face. With a sigh, you brought your hands up to gently cup his cheeks. “Baby, look at me.”

JJ’s cerulean eyes finally met your Y/E/C ones. “I want to tell people, J, you know I do. But if the wrong people find out, we wouldn’t be able to be us anymore. You understand that, don’t you?” JJ nodded but his eyes had left yours again. “Well, uh, I gotta go,” JJ muttered before removing himself from your grasp. “See you at the party?”

He was already climbing out the window when you answered, “I’ll be there in ten.” The golden-haired boy sent you one last smile before disappearing into the night. You stared at the spot you had last seen him and couldn’t help but think his smile had been a little less bright than usual. After a moment, you decided that you were probably just imagining it. You hurried to put on your heels and check your appearance in the mirror one last time before noticing the rose that lay forgotten on your bed. On impulse, you picked it up and tenderly tucked it into your hair.

You snuck past the service entrance at the back of your house and moments later, your feet were padding through the warm night sand next to the pool. The party was down the street on the terrace of Sarah Cameron’s house and you walked absentmindedly, the route to her house engraved in your brain because of the hundreds of times you had gone there over the years.

Sarah was a Kook princess, but you were the Kook princess. You never meant to draw attention to yourself, it just seemed to naturally fall upon you. The Kook lifestyle was everything to you until you met JJ Maybank. He was wild and so beautifully chaotic: everything you ever yearned to be. The golden-haired boy had pulled you into his world and before you knew it, the galas and the boats didn’t matter so much anymore. You had a foot in both worlds, longing to jump into the deep end with the Pogues but unable to break the chains of Kook pressure.

The moment you stepped onto the terrace, you felt every eye in the room trace your movements. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary so you simply tilted your chin up higher and looked for a familiar mop of blonde hair. You spotted the Pogues in a corner with Sarah and smiled with relief, about to head their way when a hand closed around your arm. You looked behind you to see Rafe Cameron grinning down at you and suppressed the urge to roll your eyes.

“You look gorgeous tonight, darling.”

You yanked your arm from the tall boy’s grip and took a couple of steps back for good measure. “I don’t want any coke, Rafe,” you seethed through clenched teeth. “I suggest you go find a touron to hassle and leave me alone.”

You turned away, thinking he would leave you alone but Rafe Cameron was no quitter. “C’mon, darling,” he urged, “Don’t be like that. Just one drink.”

“I said no.”

Rafe was getting irritated now. “What, are you fucking some dirty pogue down at The Cut? You know I could make you feel so much better.” His hands were on your arms again and you felt your heartbeat speed up. His grip tightened and you were about the scream to cause a scene when an arm wrapped around you from behind and wrenched you away from the Cameron boy.

“She said no, Cameron.” JJ’s sea breeze scent invaded your senses and you immediately relaxed with his touch. Rafe’s eyes moved from your face to the point where JJ’s body was linked with your own and something shifted behind his eyes. “Maybank? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Y/N.”

You sharply inhaled at Rafe’s accusation. If he knew, it was only a matter of time before everyone else connected the dots. You swiftly untangled yourself from JJ’s arms and lightly shoved him away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The moment those words left your lips, you hurried away from the pair and immersed yourself in the mess of party-goers dancing in the middle of the terrace.

No matter how many tequila shots you drowned, the dejected look on JJ’s face from when you pushed him away in front of Rafe continuously popped up in your head. The alcohol in your bloodstream slowly unraveled the tension on your mind and you found yourself swaying your hips with a bottle of cold beer clutched in your hand. In the middle of the crowd, you felt hands all over your figure but you really couldn’t care less. The feeling of sweaty bodies pressing against yours in the dark only exaggerated your intoxicated state and you began to lose yourself in the music. However, your bliss only lasted for a few minutes before the bottle of beer in your hands was suddenly snatched away.

“Hey!” You slurred. A scowl formed on your lips when you noticed JJ frowning down at you with the nearly empty bottle in his hands. You quickly reached for it but he moved faster, downing the last bit of alcohol in it and tossing the bottle into the nearest trash can.

“That was mine, asshole!” You drunkenly exclaimed but JJ ignored you. “Shut up and dance with me.”

JJ’s hands comfortably found your waist and you interlocked your hands behind his neck. Even in the blackness of the night sky, looking into his striking eyes was like being splashed with a bucket of cold water. Suddenly, you didn’t feel so drunk anymore. Your hands began to loosen from around his neck but the boy tugged you even closer to him.

“J, we shouldn’t be doing this,” you whispered. “Not here.”

“We’re just dancing, baby. People dance at parties,” he calmly responded but you shook your head. “Someone’s going to notice something. We can’t risk it. Not now; not after everything we’ve been through.”

JJ’s eyes turned stormy as his heart wrenched in his chest. “All these other guys, they can’t tear their eyes away from you, Y/N!” The frustration in his tone almost made you flinch. “Why don’t you want everyone to know that I’m the only one that gets to take you home?”

It was too dark to see if anyone was watching but only a few inches away from JJ’s face, you noticed a single tear roll down his flushed cheeks. Your hands gently cupped the golden boy’s face for the second time that night. “I want to tell everyone, J. I swear I do. I just can’t. But baby, that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.” You paused, waiting for him to respond but he stood with his lips pursed tightly. Your hands dropped to your sides. “JJ, if my parents found out- fuck, my life would be over. And the rest of the Kooks, they wouldn’t take to us lightly either. You saw how Rafe acted tonight-and he didn’t even know anything!”

JJ had heard enough. “Why do you care what they think?” His hands furiously tugged through his golden locks as he found the right words to voice. “I don’t give a fuck what anyone on this damn island says about us Y/N, because I love you.”

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat. Before you could even think about his words, JJ’s mouth was crushed on yours. Shrouded by the darkness of the night, you felt your stomach twist into knots at the feeling of his soft lips on your own. The urge to draw his body impossibly close to yours filled your muscles; you wanted to hold your boy there and never let him go but you couldn’t. He had said that he loved you. Someone in this screwed up world loved you. For some reason, you couldn’t wrap your mind around the thought. It wasn’t real. Something in your heart told you it couldn’t be real. The realization hit you like a flash of lightning and you suddenly pushed away from the boy in front of you.

JJ’s lipstick-stained lips pouted in a frown and his hair was unruly from where you had run your fingers through it. You desperately wanted to push the stray locks from his forehead but you couldn’t bring yourself to touch him again. “I-I have to go,” you stuttered.

“What? Y/N, what’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong, baby-”

“I said I have to go, JJ!” You roughly pushed away the hand he had reached out to you and turned on your heel. JJ’s voice echoed after you, calling out your name, but you couldn’t bear to turn around. Seeing his face might have convinced you to actually believe him.

That’s how you left him that night: lips swollen, mascara smudged, and heart racing in a million different directions.

. . .

The Pogues could tell something was wrong. You and JJ were usually attached at the hip and the whole town knew it, but now you seemed to be avoiding JJ like the plague. If the blonde boy was going to be somewhere, you refused to go. Your friend circle had grown limited over the years, and avoiding the only people you could call family wasn’t good for your health. Every time Kie and John B. showed up at your doorstep to haul you to the beach, they found you with an (almost always) empty bottle of tequila clutched to your chest.

JJ wasn’t much better off. He still surfed daily and showed up for his shift at work with Pope, but the light behind his eyes was dimmed. No matter how much Kie pestered JJ to tell her what had happened or Pope tried to pull you out of your bed, neither of you relented.

Although the pogues couldn’t pull you out of your head, Sarah Cameron had other plans. On a hot Thursday night, she barged into your room with an enormous bowl of popcorn and Kie in tow. “Y/N!”

You were laying in bed with your eyes closed and music blaring into your ears. Rolling her eyes, Sarah yanked out your headphones. Your eyes widened at the sudden intrusion. “Sarah, what the-” But Sarah wasn’t having any of it. “You can get up yourself or I’m going to haul your ass up. Your choice.”

You looked at Kie with a “is she kidding right now” look but Kiara simply shrugged; everyone knew the Cameron girl wasn’t accustomed to the word “no.” It must run in the family.

With a heavy sigh, you sat up and made room for the other two on your bed. They settled in on either side of you and Sarah plopped the popcorn on your lap. You greedily scooped a handful in your hands; you couldn’t remember the last time you had eaten a full meal. Kie uncomfortably cleared her throat. “Y/N, what happened between you and JJ?”

You didn’t answer, licking butter off your fingers and flipping through your favorite movies on Netflix. Kie exchanged a concerned glance with Sarah and the two proceeded to frown at you. “JJ hasn’t been, well, JJ this week,” Kiara cautiously continued. “He smiles but his laughs sound hollow. His eyes don’t shine anymore, Y/N. He needs you.”

You didn’t realize you had been crying until you felt the moisture on your cheeks. You hastily wiped it away. “I don’t wanna talk about it. Can we just watch the movie now?”

The minutes passed by slowly. You tried to focus on the movie playing on your TV but all you could see were your friends’ concerned faces. You were just about to kick them out and call it a night when a frantic knock on your window drew you out of your haze.

“What the hell?” Kie and Sarah chorused together. “Who’s at your window?” Your chest tightened. You didn’t need to open the window to know who was behind the glass. You slowly undid the latch on the window to reveal JJ, his face covered in the moon’s shadow. The two of you stared at each other. Your mouth opened but immediately snapped shut when you realized you didn’t know what to say to the boy in front of you.

Sarah peered around your shoulder and a slight gasp escaped her lips. “Oh.” She backed away from you, grabbing Kiara’s hand and leading her out of the room. “Let’s go, Kie. We have to, uh-” She tripped over her words but her voice had already drifted out of your mind. The only thing you could hear was the heavy rise and fall of JJ’s breath, slightly out of rhythm after the three-story climb to your room.

“Can I come in?” JJ’s voice sounded small, almost broken. You didn’t respond, simply opening the window wider. The golden-haired boy hopped into your room and you thought you heard him utter a small groan when his feet slammed onto the floor. When JJ moved into the light, you sharply inhaled. Dark bruises scattered his face and neck. Even though it looked like it was cleaned, the cut on his lip burned a bright red. JJ’s lip trembled and you didn’t stop to ask questions before throwing your arms around him. You tried to be gentle so as to not hurt him but his grip on you tightened, leaving not even an inch between your bodies.

Warm tears fell down JJ’s cheeks and onto your shoulder. “My dad, he-he-damn it I can’t Y/N-” The golden boy sniffled and you felt tears pool in your own eyes. JJ always crashed at your place or the Chateau on nights the whole gang kept John B company. You never asked why but you knew something at home bothered him. Now you knew. It was his dad. His dad abused him. The whole time you had known JJ, you wanted nothing more than to protect him and now you felt like you had failed miserably. If JJ had been at your place, maybe he wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Maybe he would have been just a little less broken.

JJ’s sobs grew louder and tears were shamelessly falling down your cheeks. You softly pressed your lips under his ear. “Shhh, baby. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” JJ nodded against your neck as you soothingly combed through his hair. “C’mon, J, let’s go to bed.” You supported the boy’s weight as he stumbled over his feet and landed on the bed with a quiet thump. You furiously wiped away the wetness on your cheeks before he noticed.

JJ rested his head on your pillow, breathing in your scent and sighing in content. You delicately immersed yourself in the covers next to him, careful not to irritate any of the boy’s wounds any further. The two of you laid like that in silence while JJ’s breathing returned to normal. His hand slowly itched towards yours and the slightest brush of fingertips sent sparks flying up your body.

“Y/N?”

“Mhm?”

“Can you hold me?” JJ’s voice broke.

You turned your head to look at the defeated boy. “I don’t want to hurt you, J.”

“You could never hurt me.”

“Ok.” Your voice was almost as small as his. You gently pulled his head onto your chest and wrapped an arm around his middle. One hand lightly pulled at his hair and the other traced shapes on his abdomen under his grey tank. He didn’t say anything for a couple minutes so you assumed he had fallen asleep, but his head shifted on your chest. “Y/N?”

“Yeah, JJ?”

He retreated back to silence. You weren’t sure if he really had dozed off this time or he just didn’t want to say what he was about to say. After several moments, the golden-haired boy took in a rattling breath and a small smile graced his features. “I love you.”

For reasons you couldn’t quite put your finger on, you felt your heart begin to sink cowardly. JJ wanted to love. He wanted to be loved. But he couldn’t love you. You had never been loved by anyone. How could this perfect boy change that? You gently shook your head against the smushed pillow. “It’s not real, JJ.”

JJ’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What’s not real?”

“You don’t love me. You just think you love me because you want someone to love. It’s not real. It can’t be,” you whispered in the dark.

JJ wanted to argue. He wanted to grab your shoulders and shake you until you realized how damn much his heartbeat for you. Hell, sometimes he thought it beat only for you. But the night’s events had taken a toll on his mind and body and he couldn’t do anything but softly hum, “You’re wrong, Y/N. You’re just scared. Why are you so afraid to fall in love?”

Perhaps JJ had fallen asleep that instant, or maybe he waited as long as he could to hear your answer. Eventually, he succumbed to his fatigue. Still, as you held the sleeping boy in your arms, no answer appeared in your mind. You spent the whole night trying to find it, but the sun came up and you were still as oblivious to your heart as you had been under the light of the moon.

. . .

As far as the Pogues could tell, everything was back to normal. You inserted yourself back into your social life, regularly surfing with the boys and crashing Kook parties with Kie and Sarah. JJ wore long sleeve shirts in an effort to cover up the battle scars only you’d seen, but the twinkle behind his eyes was back. On the outside, it seemed as if you and JJ had mended whatever it was you had broken in the first place. On the HMS Pogue, he laid his head on your lap like he always did. During late nights at the Chateau, you two shared a can of beer while your legs intertwined on the recliner as they always did.

But you knew that nothing was the same. JJ stopped coming to your house. The sheets on your bed felt cold and uninviting without the golden-haired boy’s saltwater scent all over them. At night, you longed for his sweet kisses but when you turned you were met with nothing more than an empty pillow. He hadn’t come out and said it, but you could tell that he didn’t want to do it anymore. JJ was always around you, but you weren’t Y/N and JJ anymore. You were just Y/N, and he was just JJ. Nevertheless, the ache in your heart dulled as you learned to push it away from your mind. For now, ignoring the problem felt like the best way to face it.

The summer sky boasted a brilliant orange and a calm breeze settled over the coast for the night. You found yourself laying against JJ’s chest on a hammock as the sun slowly descended into the ground. Sarah was sprawled over John B and Kie held Pope’s head on her stomach as their hammock rocked back and forth in the wind. No one said a word; it was hard to rip your eyes away from the changing colors of the clouds.

As the sun sunk down and the stars emerged, the Pogues one by one made their way back into the Chateau, leaving only you and JJ gently swinging in the breeze. His hand was tangled in your hair and you intertwined your fingers with his, wanting to sustain his warmth against your skin. You signed in content. “I miss you,” you whispered.

JJ sharply inhaled. In a flash, his hands left your body and he was ungracefully pulling himself from the hammock. “Hey! Where are you going?” You questioned as you hauled yourself up into a sitting position. The boy's hands hastily ran through his hair, something you noticed he did when he was upset. “I can’t do this anymore, Y/N!”

Your stomach dropped at his confession. You knew what was coming but you couldn’t help but ask, “Do what, J?”

His eyes widened as if he couldn’t believe you were asking the question. “This, Y/N. Us! I can’t keep pretending like we aren’t broken, like everything’s fine.”

“We are fine,” your voice cracked but you don’t think JJ noticed. He stepped forward so aggressively you flinched, but all he did was bring his palms up to hold your face. “Do you know what I’m doing right now?” His thumbs swept over your cheekbones. “I’m holding my entire world in my hands. You. That’s it. That’s all I need because I love you.”

Your lip trembled. “JJ-” You softly started but he wasn’t finished yet.

“But I can’t go on like this anymore, Y/N. I can’t keep holding you like this, no matter how bad I want to, if you don’t tell me how you feel.” He paused and took a deep breath, as if it was physically hurting him to say these words. “You keep saying it’s not real, and maybe it’s not. I’ve already learned throughout my life that I’m not capable of love. But you’re just as messed up as I am.” JJ’s hands tightened around your face. “You’re not afraid of scary movies, and you’re not afraid of all the attention. You’re not afraid of running wild with me, but you’re so damn afraid of being who you’re meant to be in this world. You’re afraid of falling in love.”

You wanted to open your mouth to argue. To yell at him for causing the pit in your stomach to widen. But you couldn’t, because you knew he was right. A whimper escaped your lips at the realization. “JJ, I don’t want to be broken,” you breathed.

A small smile appeared on JJ’s lips. “It’s ok to be a little screwed up, baby, because who isn’t?” The boy in front of you took a deep breath as his smile faltered. “But I can’t be with you. Not like this. It hurts a little too much.” His hands dropped from your face and your skin tingled from the loss of warmth. “Goodbye, Y/N.” JJ pressed a kiss on your forehead that was so light you barely felt it. And then he was gone.

You sat in shock for several seconds. You knew this was coming, so why did it hurt so much when it finally hit you? “JJ?” But the blonde wasn’t anywhere in sight. That’s when your throat wrenched out a sob, a sound so absolutely heartbreaking you could practically feel a piece of you wither and die. You regretted it. All of it. How could you ever feel the same way again?

JJ’s blue eyes were the only ones with oceans deep enough to captivate you for hours on end. Every time his fingers found your skin, it felt like tiny fires erupted in every place he touched. When his lips pressed on yours, the whole world stopped spinning and god, you could have stayed that way forever. And his heart. Oh, his ever fragile heart. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever gotten to know on this planet. And now it wasn’t yours anymore. Fuck. You had screwed up big time.

You thought about what the blonde boy had said before he left. You were scared. Scratch that, you were fucking terrified. Terrified to admit how your heart had grown to beat in rhythm with another’s. You and JJ were both broken pieces that fit together magnificently; that’s how the universe had willed it to be. In that moment, you knew exactly how you felt.

You leaped off the cold hammock and ran. Where would JJ be? His house? No, he wouldn’t have gone to face his father. The Chateau? No, he would want to be alone. The beach. He had to be at the beach. You sprinted until your feet were on fire and even when your muscles burst into flames, you kept going. Your feet whistled through the sand until you saw him. His back was to you, and he was watching the reckless waves with a beer can in his hands. You were sprinting but you couldn’t get there fast enough. “JJ!” Your breathless voice carried in the wind and JJ’s head jerked around. “Y/N?” His eyes were red. Had he been crying?

He stood up and your feet flew past the last couple yards before you slammed into him. A small grunt left his lips but he didn’t complain. Instead, his arms wrapped around your shaking form tighter than they had ever held you before. Your arms wound around his torso and you pulled away slightly to see his face. His eyes were bloodshot and his nose was red but he looked like the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. One of your hands flew to cup his jaw and the other wound itself in his unkempt golden locks. You looked right into his cerulean eyes before whispering, “I love you.”

JJ’s eyes widened in shock. “What?”

“JJ Maybank, you are capable of love. You know how I know that?” You laughed as he shook his head. “Because I fucking love you. And-” But JJ’s lips crashed against yours and the words immediately died on your tongue. You moved against his body, holding him as close as humanly possible as a million butterflies exploded in your stomach. JJ tasted like saltwater and strawberries from the tears that covered both your faces and the flavor of your chapstick.

The golden boy pulled away, lips swollen but curved into a breathtaking grin. His arms were still wrapped snugly around you and you leaned closer, kissing away the tears that lingered on his cheeks. “Let’s tell everyone, J. I’m not afraid of what they might say anymore. When it comes to us, you’re the only thing that matters.” JJ softly breathed in; he wasn’t used to someone loving him this way. He gently grabbed your chin and pulled your face up so his eyes were on yours once again. “This is all I ever wanted. I’m holding the entire world in my arms.”

You smiled and JJ swore your face was brighter than every star in the sky. “Well, I’m holding the entire universe. And I’m never letting it go.”

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kosmosguk · 4 years

Text

Lineage (M) | 4 | preview

Pairing: Duke Yoongi x Princess Reader

Word Count: ?

Warnings: HEAVY yandere themes, mentions of gore and death, near-death experiences, obsessive behaviors, manipulation, mentions of smut, 18+, explicit language, vomiting

A/N: Last part of the main story! Only parts left are a special chapter and the epilogue... Ah...so sad that this story is nearly over. This story brought a lot more support for my account, so it feels really sad to part with it. Maybe I’ll write shorter side stories for it like webnovels do lol. Hope everyone is being safe and taking care of their health! <3 Ty for nearly 3.4K and send in any memes/moodboards for Lineage! The one I like the most will get early access to part 4. Keep an eye out for a spooky drabbles series for Halloween :)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

You could feel the pain in your chest, prickling, and that pain seemed to sink itself into your stomach. Why did it hurt? Why were you hurting?

10. 9. 8.

Tears spilled out, dropping onto the ground, as you bent over and retched all over your nightgown and the carpet. Your vision blurred, spots dancing, and you sunk heavily into the moment of weakness.

“Yoongi…,’’ your voice was barely a mumble,’’ I’m tired. Stay with me?’’

He moved the hand in your grasp slightly, and you held on tightly even though you were half-asleep. He chuckled lowly.

“I’ll always be here.”

Release Date: Sunday, November 8th 5PM PST

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