#“he surely would’ve passed out from a lack of oxygen by now with how often you take his breath away.” MY GOD

[renjunbae]

resurface; kim jungwoo.

synopsis : all you had wanted was a quiet summer by the beach to relax, escape the oppressiveness of the city, and get your mind off of your last disastrous relationship, but apparently peace was hard to come by, especially when a figure from your past reappears unexpectedly in your life.

pairing : kim jungwoo x fem!reader

genre : beach resort au, university au, romance, fluff

warnings : (very) mild profanities

length : 7.1k

soundtrack : let me drown - deanz ft. andy delos santos; u n eye - boy in space; sun goes down - aiyo

author's note : this is part of the ot23 "resonance beach" collab hosted by @amorajae. thank you so much for letting me participate & go check out the collab masterlist for more addicting summer reads!

Socializing had never been so suffocatingly painful and pretentious.

Clinking champagne glasses, aimless mingling and a forever unending charade of polite smiles that never quite reached one’s eye, they surrounded you like a shroud that made it hard to breathe, a shirt that was too tight and biting uncomfortably at the neck. Much like the very dress you were wearing at the moment; form-fitting, over-the-top fancy, and narrow in all the spots you hated.

Oh, how you wished to change out of it all. Rip off the structured binds around your entire being, take off and away from the repetitive scene that had become more frequent over the past weeks and the main cause of your headaches. But there was nothing you could do about it except stare uselessly at the clock as its hands ticked by at an excruciatingly slow pace, and you hated that fact more than anything else.

“Well then, it has been lovely to meet you, Miss (Y/N). I can see that your parents have done an excellent job raising such an elegant and well-mannered young lady.” The concluding words, along with an outstretched hand, snapped you out of your misery and forced your attention back to the middle-aged man before you. Already, you were struggling to recall his name from the brief—or was it excruciatingly long?—introduction he’d done when he sought to strike a conversation with you twenty minutes earlier. Was he a superior of your father’s? Or maybe a recent acquaintance of your mother’s? You didn’t know, nor cared, really. After two hours of entertaining your parent’s countless associates with answers to their onslaught of questions about which college you attended and other various aspects of your personal life, you no longer had much energy left to spare for further pretense.

For the entirety of the exchange, you’d somehow gotten by with absentminded nods and murmured agreements. Thankfully, your latest companion was too immersed in his tales to notice your drifting focus and lack of interest, at which you almost heaved a sigh of relief. If your parents had received word of your misbehavior, you’d be a goner for sure, and you certainly were not looking forward to another round of their droning lecture about mannerism, etiquette, and public image.

“It was nice meeting you too,” you managed to return with a smile that was just about passable for being semi-enthusiastic, though inside, you were cringing hard at your poor attempts of keeping up the graciously civilized front your mother had always insisted for you to display in public. Forget the crowded dinner parties, forget the fancy evening galas, with every passing minute you were closer to less than a hair’s breadth away from plopping down on the nearest sofa and calling it quits. But you retained your composure and made sure to wave politely as the man stepped away, only letting out a long-held breath after his figure had completely disappeared amidst the crowd.

The room was getting uncomfortably stuffy, and your desire to leave was ever growing as you struggled to get through the throng of chattering bodies for some space alone. Sure, you’d been at a number of clubs and parties with your friends, but they were always on the more laid back and easygoing side of the atmosphere spectrum. You didn’t have to put up a perfect front for others to examine, nor be pressured to uphold your entire family’s reputation. And you certainly wouldn’t be obliged to answer your mother’s calls from ten feet away, beckoning you over to no doubt meet another friend of hers.

It was all the same, over and over. Introductions, small talk, and then going into the personal life of the (L/N)s’ “all grown up” daughter.

“Neo Tech University? The top school in the area? How nice!”

Your father beamed proudly. “Of course, she’s my daughter, after all.”

The adults laughed. You didn’t join them, instead picking at the fabric of your gown until the conversation required your participation again.

“She’s matured so much, I bet she has all the boys at her heels already,” The lady commented, to which your mom immediately responded with a pleased smile and, “Of course, she’s got a boyfriend too. They’re soo cute together. Hey, honey, how come he hasn’t come around in a while?”

God, why? Why, of all things, did they have to bring this up? You felt your insides squeezing together painfully at the mention of the topic, your fists clenched so hard you could feel your fingernails digging into your skin. You’d thought this night couldn’t get any worse than it already was, but you were wrong, it just did. Their gazes were all set on you expectantly, and you hated the attention. Hated being the focus of the conversation and picked apart to the seams.

“We broke up,” you said eventually, avoiding your parents’ eyes.

Your mother's smile fell away to an expression of shock and disbelief. “Why? I thought you two were doing so well with each other.”

Yeah, we were, before he cheated on me, you were tempted to say. To firmly erase any of your mother’s misconceptions that she had even a single idea of what was going on in her daughter’s life. But you just shrugged nonchalantly, as if the breakup was only a trivial matter. If you’d told them the truth, your mother would’ve no doubt considered it a huge blow to her reputation.

“It’s alright, you’ll find someone else who’s worthy of you,” the lady patted your shoulder sympathetically, and you felt your face heat up in a mixture of humiliation and frustration. The last thing you needed was someone telling you that in public.

You figured this was a good time to leave, maybe dig a hole and bury yourself in it. Tonight had been a suitable enough reason. Murmuring a quick apology to the adults, you excused yourself and made your way toward the exit before your mother could intercept. People stared as you passed, but at this point, their hypercritical looks were the least of your concerns. If grown-up life was beyond the point of “childishness” and “selfish acts”, then you’d grown beyond the point of caring.

By the time you’d arrived home, it was already ten o’clock. You and your parents had left for the gala around six-thirty, which meant you’d spent at least a good three hours and a half at the venue, engaging in hollow, repetitive conversations with near strangers. It was exhausting, to say the least, and you found yourself craving a warm bath the moment you stepped through the door. But you had your priorities set straight, and after changing into some casual clothing, you made a beeline for the kitchen to make yourself a pot of ramen. You were practically starving after almost an entire night of strolling around and snacking only on lady-like portions of foreign delicacies at the event.

While the water boiled, you dialed your best friend’s number. She’d told you of her plans—or the lack thereof—this evening, consisting of nothing but binge watching anime and consuming an inhumane amount of triple chocolate fudge ice cream. That was basically an open invitation for you to call her whenever you felt like ranting about old men and how it just wasn’t fair no one else was obligated to chat for hours on end with them about stock market prices, and you accepted it gladly.

Yera picked up on the second ring. True to her word, you could hear the incoherent Japanese shouting of the characters in whatever anime she was binging at the moment.

“How did it go? The gala?”

Just the sound of her voice was enough to ease some of the tension in your shoulders. Your best friend always knew what to say and how to lift your spirits in times like this, no matter how blunt and straightforward she may be, and you were looking forward to her advice.

“Terrible,” you groaned. “Whoever came up with the idea of stuffing over two hundred boring, judgmental business people in a room far too bright and oxygen-lacking must’ve been out of their mind.”

You heard Yera snort from the other side of the line. “Yeah, no shit, sherlock. You know, I’d reassure you it’s not that bad, but I know it’s exactly that bad.”

You shifted your position so that you faced the kitchen window, where a view of the city’s nightscape unfolded before your eyes. The sky was dark, but thousands of glimmering lights made up for it—neon billboards, cars flying by on the busy streets below, office lightings, roadside lamps, and glowing patches of yellow from residential buildings like your own. You stared out at the sea of twinkling sparks, and for a moment, felt so very small amidst the immensely vast world.

“They mentioned him.”

There was only a beat of silence. Yera didn’t need long to catch onto who you were referring to.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, they were talking about boys and then my mom brought up the fact that I have a boyfriend—had, actually,” you sighed, an action you found occurring more often than not lately. “Guess I forgot to tell them he’s an ex now, but then again, they didn’t ask before.”

“Gosh, that must’ve been so awkward.”

“It was,” you shut your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose with your forefingers. “You tell me. I had to leave, right away. I’m just glad it’s over now.”

“Wait wait wait, hold on. How many of these event thingies have you gone to in the past week?”

“Three, not counting the time my mom had some friends over for lunch. They stayed until dinner, actually, and we had to go out and eat.”

“What the heck?? And you let them drag you along?”

“It’s my duty to accompany them, I guess. They’d be mad if I don’t go and let them show me off for a bit. But then again, there usually aren’t this many events. My dad just signed a contract with some important clients, and my mom’s been invited to a bunch of social gatherings, plus the fact that normally, I’d have school as an excuse. There’s just been more of them recently, and it’s not like I have any good enough reason to opt out.”

Yera gasped. “It’s summer. Summer!! That’s all they should need. It’s summer break right now and it’s your time off. They shouldn’t need any more reason than that. And whether it’s the norm or not, you have to know that you are in charge of yourself and that you get to decide what you do with your own life, not them.”

“You have a point, Yera, you always do, but...” you shook your head. “I honestly don’t know at this point. Things are easier said than done. I hate it all, but in a way, it’s part of my responsibility.”

“Okay, oookay. That’s it. No more dinner parties or rich people galas for you, (Y/N). It’s your time off and I’m going to make sure you take some time off. Aren’t you tired of them ordering you around? You’re the one who’s in control of your own life, (Y/N). Go have a nice vacation and stay away from adult business for at least a few weeks, or I’m not letting you anywhere near my mom’s homemade honeycomb brownies again, got it?”

If Yera was bringing her mother’s brownies into the deal, then you knew she was serious. Somehow, despite the situation, you almost felt like laughing. Felt like you were invincible, as if her words brought a surge of confidence along with it. Smiling up at the night sky, you said, “Well, I guess I have to do it for those brownies.”

“Good, now go on and take on the world!”

The world—or, namely, your parents—was clearly not amused when you dragged your suitcase into the living room at eight in the morning the next day, dressed in a flowery blouse, your favorite jean shorts, and a pair of heeled sandals. They’d been eating breakfast at the dining table just ten paces across as you entered, engrossed in a conversation about the latest commercial trends and news of the business world. They looked up at the sound of wheels against the marbled floor, an initial expression of shock crossing their faces as they took in your outfit and the luggage in your hands.

Your father looked almost bewildered as he glanced between you and your mother, who’s brows had deepened into a frown. She shook her head as if to clear away thoughts of disbelief, though you could detect the note of disapproval that was weaved into the action.

“What’s with this?” she asked, her tone stern and commanding, almost as if to compel you into saying exactly what she wanted: “Nothing, mom. I’m not going anywhere.”

It had always been that way. You’d intend to do something, and she’d shut you down before you could even try. But not this time.

“Carrying out my plans for summer break,” you replied and paused before continuing. “Why?”

The lines on your mother’s forehead deepened. “Plans?”

She was waiting for you to either straight up admit what you were up to or give up. You knew that, and you didn’t want to beat around the bush either, so you looked her right in the eyes and said, “Summer vacation plans, mom. I’m leaving today.”

“(Y/N), I thought we already talked about this. You can’t just—”

“Go around and quit my duties? Yeah, I know.”

“Then what are you doing right now?”

“I’m not quitting,” you said through gritted teeth, “I’m taking the break that I deserve.”

“You’re running away,” your mother accused, her voice trembling with incredulity and, despite her apparent effort to keep it controlled, a slight hint of anger. “You’re going back on your promise and you’re not going to do what you should just because you don’t want to. Stop being so selfish and naive, (Y/N). You’re not a child anymore.”

It was something just suddenly snapped inside you, and all your pent up frustration boiled over. “Selfish? Mom, do you ever think about how I feel? I’ve put up with all the things you wanted me to do and I can’t even have a single moment when I try to focus on my own happiness for once?”

“You promised—”

“I’m not a replacement for him!”

Your parents stared, momentarily speechless from your outburst. In the silence, you felt the frustration and anger wear away and bubble down to something that resembled a fevered hurt. The broken pain in your mother’s face seemed to mirror your own, but the words slipped out anyway.

“No matter what, I can’t be him. I can’t replace him. I know that’s what you want me to be, and that if I was, maybe you could think that he’s never gone, but I can’t. I just…”

You could see that your comments had hit their mark.“(Y/N)—” your mother started.

But at this point, you were too tired of arguing to continue. You didn’t wait to hear what she had to say, only picked up your bags and headed for the entranceway. You exhaled as the door clicked shut behind you. Gosh, I’m really going to do this, am I?

Resonance Beach Resort was a nice change from the usual fast-paced schedule of your daily life that was full of unwanted obligations and tasking duties. You'd visited often in your early childhood and teenage years, and had loved the place for its elegant, luxurious accomodations and the spectacular view of a pristine beach that spanned along the resort's outer edge. But since some time ago, all the pressure and weight of your increasing responsibilities had suddenly just came crashing down on you, and you found yourself taking cram school more often than not due to your parents' constant urging. There just simply wasn't any time for you to take the long vacation you desperately craved. Now that things have finally lessened up to nothing but socializing with your parents' acquaintances, this was the first place you'd thought of for the perfect getaway. Just hide away from the rest of the world for a little bit before reality kicks in and you'd sink back into your busying routine. Here, you could finally have some peace and quiet, be able to breathe easier for once. No more business events or get-togethers, no more forced polite conversations over tall glasses of champagne. If you were going to party, then you should at least do it properly. You figured that aside from relaxation and watersports, Resonance Beach Resort had exactly that.

You'd switched over to your spare phone for the duration of your stay. If your parents decided they've had enough of your “childishly selfish acts”, they'd be greeted by a long period of ringing without answer, followed by an irksome beep and the message that, "sorry, the number you've dialed is not available".

The fight still simmered fresh at the front of your mind, and you shook your head in an attempt to brush it away. A small part of you felt almost guilty about your abruptly impromptu runaway, but it was merely a fleeting thought that passed as quickly as it had come. You knew how hard it was for your parents since what had occurred years ago, and that they were afraid of the same thing happening with you. Still, it wasn’t fair for you to bear the burden of two and act in as a mere substitute only to make someone else feel a bit better. Since when did you owe your parents your entire summer break to play pretend anyways? It isn't as if it actually helped you do anything except feed your growing boredom and frustration for hours on end.

You walked into the entrance hall and made your way to the reception area that sat in the middle of the gentle hum of music and red carpets and golden chandeliers. After going through the check-in process, you received your room cards and headed toward your room to drop off your luggage first.

The west-side elevator was mainly empty aside from a few other visitors who, like you, arrived earlier than most do. They’d entered before you and stood along the side panels, each scrolling through their devices for news and texts. Why take the time and money to come and visit, you wondered, if they were going to just be on their phones all the time? But then again, you were glad none of them paid any attention to you and savored the peaceful silence. The back of the elevator was adorned with clear glass panes that overlooked the beachside, allowing riders to gaze out at the scenery below them as they rose high above ground. You stared at the swaying palms and foaming waves in the distance, and thought that—despite being here so many times before—the view had never looked so welcoming before. You couldn’t wait until you could get down there and enjoy the feel of the warm sunshine on your back, hear nothing but the calming hum of the ocean.

There was a short ding! as the elevator doors opened and a middle-aged woman exited. You turned briefly to watch her leave and the doors clang shut once more behind her. Some passengers shifted around to space themselves more evenly upon her departure, but other than that, it was the same, still, silence as before. A few more minutes passed, and the process repeated until it was just you and another man standing by the front. On the controls panel, only one floor button was lit up.

He was handsome in the most traditional sense, tall and fit with tousled dark hair, flawlessly smooth skin and wide doe eyes directed at his phone screen. Although he was only dressed in a simple graphic tee and sweatpants, they looked too expensive for the average person to afford and the look suited him so well he could no doubt pass for the modern-day version of Cinderella’s Prince Charming. You almost laughed at the thought. That had been your reaction too when you first saw your ex, and you fell for him so quickly, so easily, it didn’t take much to convince you that he loved you as much as you loved him. After all, why not? His family had been wealthy and influential like your own, and your parents—mostly your mom—had absolutely adored him. You thought you’d been living the perfect fantasy until it all broke down and your palace had turned into nothing more than rubble and ashes.

In the quiet buzz of the elevator, you could hear as the stranger dialed a number on his phone and put it to his ear. Whoever on the other side must’ve answered immediately, because the man started to talk right away.

“Hey, where are you guys?”

“Okay, just checking that you’re in the suite because I don’t have the key.”

“Yeah, I’m almost there, why?”

“Woo wants another bag of his favorite chips from the convenience store? Seriously? We’re at a fancy beach resort and he wants chips from the convenience stores? God.”

“Yeah, I brought them, don’t worry. I swear he stuffed my trunk full of them when I wasn’t looking because I barely even have space in there anymore. Geez, you’d think he would die if he went a day without those.”

“Yeah, okay. Mm-hmm. That’s fine by me. Sounds fun. See you.”

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop on the conversation, but the slight echo in the space made it easy for you to hear every word the man said. And for some reason, it brought back long-ago memories of you and your brother, having the time of your lives marveling over the elevator’s view. Arguing about whose snacks the ones in the bag were. Roaming around the resort like it was your own home. That wasn’t possible now, of course. He was farther away than ever, and happier. There wasn’t anything you could do except be happy for him, though that did nothing to help the sore ache in you.

Your entire life felt like a train wreck at the moment, but then again, that was why you were here at Resonance Beach Resort in the first place. And as the elevator dinged once more, you were determined to make your summer better. Much better.

An afternoon in the sun seemed to do its trick.

After spending several hours out by the rolling waves, reading magazines and enjoying the spontaneity of doing whatever you’d wanted to on a whim, you were ready to call it a day. The freedom was exhilarating, and though you’d done much less that you would’ve on a typical weekday, you felt much more fulfilled than before. You’d eaten a quick informal dinner down in the dining hall, too tired to spend time on a full-course meal, only stopping by the vending machine on your way back to your room for a drink.

You inserted your money into the slot, pausing for a moment to look at your choices. Ginger ale would be good, you decided absentmindedly, your thoughts already drifting elsewhere. When the drink rolled out of the machine, you stooped to pick it up before preparing to leave. You turned and, not realizing there was someone behind you, ran right into them, your arm bumping against theirs. The impact knocked the can of ginger ale out of your hands and you quickly bent down to pick it up before it could roll away.

“I’m sorry, that was my fault.”

You straightened up to see the man from the elevator. He rubbed his neck sheepishly, an apologetic smile on his face. He was close enough that you could see the curved bow of his lips and the way his eyes crinkled in good humor, the way the tips of his ears were red in embarrassment at having knocked into you.

You blushed at the close proximity between you and the stranger, before remembering your manners and shaking your head lightly, “No, I’m sorry, it was my fault as well. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

The two of you stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say or what to do, until the man’s eyes landed on the room card in your hand.

“Suite 1009? What a coincidence, my friends and I are right next door. Want me to walk you back since we’re—you know—going the same way?”

You gave a little startled laugh, finding a bit of comfort in the fact that even a man as good-looking and confident-seeming as him could stumble over his words in situations like this. You’d pegged him for the type with an air of arrogance, but his voice held a sort of genuine sincerity and modesty along with the charm you’d expected. “Of course, I’d love that.”

As you walked down the corridor together, he seemed to realize something, and started in surprise, “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name’s Jaehyun. Jung Jaehyun.”

“I’m (Y/N),” you smiled. “It’s nice to meet you. Is this your first time here?”

“Well, yes, my friends and I were planning to go somewhere for the summer, and one of my friends recommended this resort. How did you tell?”

“I used to come here a lot, but I haven’t visited in a while. I came back to escape city life, I guess, though I must admit I missed this place tons. The things adult life takes away from you are just plain cruel.”

“I know right? Sometimes I wish I could just go back to seventeen and—”

“Relive that teenage dream?” you finished.

He laughed. “Yeah, exactly.”

“That’s what everyone says.”

“What, don’t you agree?” he looked at you in feigned shock.

You looked up at the ceiling as if searching for the answer in the lights above. “Yes,” you said truthfully, “I do agree.” Though it wasn’t exactly how you felt completely all the time, there was no denying that at least you’d loved the various aspects teenage years had to offer.

“You sound almost cynical about it.”

“Do I?” you shook your head. “Oh, well, personally, maybe, I guess?”

He gave you a weird look. “Think you could sound any more unsure about that?”

The two of you burst out laughing, the sound echoing against the walls of the hallway. As you chatted with Jaehyun, there was an undeniable tingle at the bottom of your stomach, spreading to the tips of your finger and your rosy cheeks. You didn’t know if you were willing to fall in love again, especially after your previous failures and bad encounters in romance that extended beyond your last relationship, but there was no denying that Jaehyun was fun to be around and you enjoyed his company immensely.

So when you both arrived at your destinations, you almost felt sorry to go. You lingered for a second, turning to him almost hesitantly.

Of course you’d see him again, being next-door neighbors for the next few weeks or so, as long as he’s here, but you didn’t want to leave and be all alone by yourself just yet.

Jaehyun seemed to feel the same, and he paused. “So, see you soon?”

You started to respond with a definite yes, but didn’t get a chance to answer. The door next to yours opened slightly, and some inaudible conversing trickled out from the crack. You caught a few words in the back-and-forth as you stood by your room, an amused smile at your lips. Jaehyun rolled his eyes, clearly used to this type of behavior from his friends.

“Oh, don’t mind them. They’re always like this.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “They seem fun to be around.”

“Yeah, yeah, when they’re not nagging twenty-four-seven at me to get snacks for them.” Though you could see by the teasing grin on his lips that he was only kidding.

Jaehyun’s friend pushed the door open a little more so that the conversation became more distinctable. And then, a sudden recognition made you freeze in your tracks. Your heart dropped. No. No way. The smile fell from your lips, replaced with a rush of confusion and near-disbelief.

Was that…?

You heard his voice before you saw him.

“Jaehyun! You’re back, just in time—”

Brown hair, plump lips, and bright, playful eyes. His boyish features evolved into something more mature but not unlike its younger version, still lined with the same youthful innocence as years before. He was taller too, though in that moment, at first glance, you felt as if it was the only significant change in him. The familiarity jolted awake a feeling you had not felt since long ago, flipping back the pages of yesterday until it landed on a distant memory that seemed so close yet was so far away. It was like the world stopped spinning for a moment, freezing in time that had both given and taken so much from you.

Your stomach twisted with a mixture of fluttering anticipation and dizzy uncertainty.

Why here, of all times and places, did you have to meet Kim Jungwoo again?

Kim Jungwoo, who was your first love, but also your first heartbreak.

It all started the summer before your high school sophomore year, with an ice cream date as friends and a piggy back ride. You and Jungwoo had known each other for years, having met in elementary and developing a close bond over time. Though you each had your own separate friend groups, outside of school, the two of you often hung out together and spent time at each other’s houses. It wasn’t abnormal for you to have dinner at Jungwoo’s place—because your parents often went on business trips and rarely ever cooked even when they were home—and it certainly wouldn’t be a strange sight to see him on your couch, watching TV and snagging snacks from the basket on the coffee table as he waited for you to finish up your homework so the two of you could go out to the nearby park. It was practically routine when, two weeks after break began, he asked you if you wanted to go down to the beach with him and get some ice cream along the way. You texted back a quick “yes, of course” before flopping back onto your bed and blinking up at the ceiling as if in a dazed dream. And for some reason, you thought hard about what to wear.

It was an issue you never had to concern yourself with before. Jungwoo had seen you in your pajamas, bed hair and all, random mismatching clothes you’d thrown on in a hurry, and even ridiculous costumes you wore as a kid. He’d seen you down in your lowest low, face a mess with puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Heck, he probably knew all your embarrassing moments by heart and could recite them on a whim. But recently, you’d started to feel more self-conscious around him, and as days passed, you found yourself standing in front of the mirror more and more, holding up different tops and pants in an attempt to decide which would look nicer. A few years ago, you would’ve laughed at the thought. You? Fussing over clothing for Jungwoo’s sake? Ridiculous, you’d never needed to. But now, it seemed that the fact that he was a boy—and a very attractive one too—just sank in, and suddenly you became all too aware of it.

After shuffling through your wardrobe for ten full minutes, you finally ended up with a closet strewn messily with discarded options and clothing racks and an outfit you dimly recalled that Jungwoo had once expressed his liking for. You’d chosen a pair of thin, spaghetti sandals that were lined with gold, a gift from one of your mother’s shopping sprees, and made an effort to brush your hair neatly to go along with it all. Good enough, you supposed, as you turned left and right to check up on your appearance. Hopefully.

You grabbed your phone and keys, scribbled a note for your parents that you doubted they’d even read, and made your way out the door. Jungwoo was waiting for you at the front, standing casually by his car with one hand in his pockets. Your heart beat faster as you approached, the continuous drumming resonating within your chest and ears.

He’d been looking down at the pavement, scuffling a stray pebble around with his toes, but quickly lifted his head at your footsteps.

“Hey,” he greeted, smiling up at you.

“Wow, looking unexpectedly grown-upish today,” you lifted an eyebrow, trying to mask your nervousness in his presence with the usual snarky remarks. You spoke with a heavy hint of sarcasm, meaning that you were only joking about the matter, but what you said was true in a way—Jungwoo did look nice, though you weren’t about to say that aloud to him. It was as if you’d just noticed how much older he’d become, and how much more matured he looked.

“Really,” he said flatly, though his eyes were crinkled in good humor. “You’re the only one in the dark then.”

You laughed. “Because other people still call you an adorable baby?”

“Haha, so funny.”

You settled into the passenger seat beside Jungwoo and watched as he leaned over to put the vehicle in ignition. His hair had grown longer since his last haircut a few months ago, and they fell over his eyes. He shook them out of his face, reaching up a hand to brush away any remaining strands that stuck to his skin. He turned to grin at you before switching over to your favorite radio station as he started to drive. You tapped your fingers to the beat, and not a minute later, the two of you were singing along to the familiar tune. Jungwoo’s voice soared up and down as he sang in a weird mock accent, and you tried hard to keep your own from trembling with uncontrollable laughter. You both knew that Jungwoo was an amazing singer, but even more so a natural at comedy.

Jungwoo parked the car a few blocks away, deciding that trying to find an open spot in the crowded beachside lots was too much of a hassle. Summer had lured many people out with the promise of good weather, and combined with the dazzling scenery of the sea, who was to say no? The brightness of the skies was all too infectious, your mood soaring like the winds above that cast a blessing of gentle coolness upon the world. It was all so perfect that you’d even surrendered to Jungwoo in a water fight, although quite begrudgingly and continuing to splash in his way afterwards.

The sparkling waterdrops glittered midair like multifaceted diamonds so that although knee deep in water, you felt almost as if you were living in the midst of a glowing fairytale. After spending some time among the rolling waves, the two of you decided to walk around a bit and let the warm air dry your clothes before going to the ice cream store. Morning went by all too quickly, and soon noon had arrived. The sun shone brilliantly overhead, the pavement burning at the soles of your shoes. You grimaced at the heat, hopping slightly to avoid getting scalded and wishing you’d worn something that wasn’t so flimsy and thin. Jungwoo seemed to notice your discomfort, glancing your way worriedly.

“Are you okay?”

“No,” you groaned. “But thanks for your concern.”

He stopped as if to consider something, then squatted down in front of you. “Here.”

“What—” you started in surprise, caught off guard by his sudden action.

“Come on, I’ll carry you.”

You thought your face couldn’t get any redder than it already was, but you swear it just did.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to. It’s my fault anyways. I should’ve worn something more suitable,” you managed.

He grinned up at you. “Yeah, you probably should’ve, but that's what I’m here for, right? Moral and well—physical—support when you make those beginner mistakes.”

“Argh, you bastard,” you half-huffed, half-laughed, whacking his shoulder lightly with one hand.

“Hey! I’m just trying to help here.”

Caught up in the slight back-and-forth, you’d forgotten entirely about the source of it all and let out a strangled gasp when a red-hot pain shot up your feet.

“Yeah, it’s not up for debate at this point. Come on, just get on already. Grab on tight.”

With surprising strength, Jungwoo hoisted you up upon his back, his arms wrapped firmly around your legs to secure you in place. Instinctively, you reached over to cling onto his neck like your life depended on it.

“Gosh, not—this—tight,” he choked out, and although you knew he was half-joking, you mumbled a laughing apology.

You were tense at first, afraid to make a single wrong move. But after a while, you felt tired of staying so still and uptight like a board and relaxed some more. When the sun’s rays stung at your eyes, you laid your head sideways against Jungwoo’s neck, your breaths falling together in the same even rhythm. He hummed a tune you did not recognize, probably another one he’d just made up randomly, and you smiled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you replied innocently. Just thinking how ridiculously likeable you are.

You wondered if Jungwoo could feel, through the thin fabric of your shirt, the pounding of your heart at his back, the same way you could smell the scent of the salty sea air and his favorite cologne on him. Raising a fingertip, you traced a heart lightly against his skin. He flinched. You held back a laugh. You’d done it right on his most ticklish spot.

He wouldn’t be able to tell, what you’d drawn and what you felt toward him, but at that moment, it felt like a nice secret, nestled comfortably within the confines of your heart. Maybe you’d tell him one day, when the time is right. You’d like to.

The ice cream shop of Jungwoo’s designation was just up the street. Apparently, it had opened just a while ago and, according to Jungwoo, he was dying for you to try some of their flavors. You didn’t have a favorite place you preferred, so you agreed without any conflict. As the two of you neared, you held on for just a little bit longer before hopping off reluctantly and fixing your clothes. You wished it didn’t have to end, that the two of you could stay that way forever, snug in each other’s embrace.

But it all changed when you walked inside the store.

The interior was neatly organized, with pastel-colored walls and light brown tables of different sizes scattered around the semi-spacious room, most of them occupied by other visitors. A long counter spanned the back of the shop, most of it built-in glass cases that displayed a colorful array of ice cream in their silver tubs. A couple workers stood behind it in sky-colored uniforms, occupied with a variety of tasks and tending to customers.

You breathed in softly, taking in the scent of chocolate and vanilla and an assortment of fruit. The air around you was cool, and you were immensely grateful for the air conditioners that made the atmosphere so welcoming after spending a long time in the sweltering sun.

“It’s nice here.”

“I know right?” Jungwoo grinned. “Just wait until you taste their ice cream. It’s the best.”

There was quite a line at the counter, and your skin itched with the particles of sand that had stuck to it uncomfortably. Your hair was wind-blown and a tangled mess atop your head, and you felt conscious of the fact that you probably looked like a mess. “Hey, Woo, I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Alright,” he gave you a thumbs-up. “I’ll pick out something for you. I swear you’ll love it.”

“Okay, thanks,” you laughed. “I’ll look forward to it then.”

After fixing up your hair and wiping yourself clean with a paper towel, you felt semi-presentable and headed out of the restrooms to find Jungwoo. You didn’t see him at the tables nor in the line, but in the close distance, almost hidden from view the rest of the shop but clearly visible from where you were standing, caught your attention.

Jungwoo.

Except he wasn’t alone.

A pretty girl around your age stood by him, donning the uniform of the store workers. She seemed to have just gotten off her shift and was loosening her hair from the ponytail she’d previously kept it in. Jungwoo was chatting animatedly, and she laughed at something he said, then shot back with her own response. He reached over and engulfed her in his arms, swaying her from side to side almost exaggeratedly.

There was a familiarity, closeness, in the way they interacted, and as you watched on, you felt your heart slowly clench tighter and tighter until it felt impossibly suffocating. Was this what heartbreak felt like? An ache so terrible and soul-splitting that you couldn’t quench no matter how hard you tried.

At the side counter, they were still going at it. He grabbed at her to kiss her cheek, but she turned away, pushing herself out of his grasp. He made a few more futile attempts, to no avail, and the two of them burst out laughing, her high, lovely one mixing in with his lower, boyish baritone.

You looked down, and wished you could just disappear into a hole. When you returned to the table after you made sure the commotion in the front had died down, Jungwoo was already waiting with the ice cream. One for him and the other, your favorite favor. He handed yours to you, but you found that you didn’t have the appetite for it anymore. You managed to muster up a feeble “thanks” and a strained smile, staring at the cone in your hands.

“What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t see Jungwoo’s expression, but you could hear the concern lacing his voice. As if he wasn’t laughing so merrily just a second ago.

“Nothing,” you replied, staring at the table. “I should probably go now. My parents said we were going out for lunch today.”

“But you said you didn’t have any plans,” Jungwoo said, confused.

“Well,” you shrugged, “It’s really my mom’s. Anyways, see you later.”

The bell jangled behind you as you exited the shop, the sound not as cheerful as it had been just a while before. A rush of hot air greeted you, but the stinging at your feet could no longer compare to that of the pain in you.

“Oh, okay. See you.” You could still hear his disappointed voice, although you couldn’t fathom just why he wouldn’t be glad to have some time with his girlfriend without you there as an awkward third-wheeler.

You didn’t see Jungwoo again that summer.

TO BE CONTINUED.

thanks for reading! send an ask or comment to be in taglist for upcoming chapters!

[spacedikut]

nurse reid ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader

summary:  “Hi cutie! I hope you are doing well! I LOVE your writing! Would it be possible for me to request something about reader fainting/almost fainting with Spencer and him taking care of her? Thank you I love you❤️❤️❤️❤️” 1781 words

a/n: three things: i have never fainted before so im guessing here, i kinda hate this so if u hate it too pretend u don’t AND if you saw me already post this two times no u didn’t :)

masterlist

Spencer should’ve known something was wrong when you came in late, rushing into the briefing room with squinted eyes and a lack of bounce in your step. When, after Hotch told the team today was for paperwork meaning everyone was desk bound, you sighed in relief.

You love field work. You love cases. You love being out there, helping people. The last thing you want is a day of writing reports.

He should’ve known when you finally stood, taking a couple of seconds to do so, and you had to blink rapidly to clear your vision of black and white dots.

You stumbled straight into Spencer’s chest, where he stood waiting for you.

“Careful,” He mumbled, one hand holding your elbow and the other resting around your waist. There was a second where he was the only thing holding you up. In normal circumstances, you would’ve blushed and been stuck on the thought of his hands on you for the rest of the day.

This wasn’t a normal day.

You went to respond with something teasing, maybe a joke about him being your knight in shining armour and he’d tell you about the history of the saying, but the feeling of bile rising in your throat stopped you.

You prepared to slump over and throw up on the shoes of your crush. But it never comes.

The sounds around you abruptly dull, vision becoming fuzzy as your brain started feeling distinctly tingly.

Suddenly you were falling.

The world goes black.

+++

You wake up some time later, incredibly confused but comfortable.

The first thing you realise is you’re in Hotch’s office on his couch. You know the smell of his office, you know the smell of Hotch, and it’s one of comfort.

But it’s Spencer sitting next to you. You know the smell of Spencer, too.

When you open your eyes, your suspicions are confirmed – Spencer is sitting directly in front of your face on the floor, cross-legged and speeding through a book. He hears you shift and looks up, eyes wide and brows tensing.

“You scared the hell out of me.” Is the first thing he says.

You huff a laugh, gratefully accepting the water he offers. You gulp it down at an awkward angle, given that you’re lying down and refuse to get up. “What happened?”

“You fainted. You know, fainting occurs when the blood pressure gets too low and the heart is not pumping a normal supply of oxygen to the brain. The medical term for fainting, or passing out, is-“

“Syncope. I know.” You grimace. You lift a hand to pinch the bridge of your nose, a headache now forming as well.

Spencer’s brows stay furrowed, deep frown on his face as he looks at you with sympathetic eyes, “Does this happen often?”

He keeps his voice low, rumbling through his chest and sounding very nice in your ears. “Not that often. Just.. sometimes, when I forget to eat or drink for a while. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” He lifts a hand, placing it against your forehead with a special tenderness that makes your heart ache. You watch him the entire time, watching the cogs turning in his head as he assess you. “But my theory was correct. When was the last time you ate?”

You avoid eye contact.

He sighs.

“Y/N…”

You pout. Maybe, if you look cute enough, he won’t lecture you.

He doesn’t get the chance (although all his brain is really saying is you cute you cute you cute), because Penelope gingerly pushes the office door open, bringing in a strong stream of light (you only now notice how dim the room is), holding a bag full of who-knows-what that she hands to Spencer.

“Here,” She says, then looks at you, “How you feeling, sweetness?”

“I’ll survive.” You smile, small and weak.

She nods with a pitiful “Good” and quietly shuts the door behind her.

You go to ask what presents Penelope has brought, but Spencer sticks a hand in the bag, ruffling around for a second, before bringing out a pack of sugar-drowned sweets you know are from the vending machine.

He opens the pack for you and grabs one, dangling it above your open mouth.

“For your low blood sugar.”

It’s one of those rainbow strands, covered entirely in sugar from top to bottom. It sizzles on your tongue, a sourness that makes your jaw flinch, but you happily accept a second from Spencer.

Your body feels exhausted, but your arms are still fully mobile. Spencer doesn’t need to feed you.

You’re sure he knows this. (He does)

You won’t say anything, though. This is way too sweet and kind.

(Spencer’s enjoying it too)

The whole pack is gone in minutes. He sneaks a few, as expected, because Spencer is a child with a sugar addiction at heart.

“What now?” You sigh.

“How do you feel?”

He looks at you so tenderly you feel like the most important person on the planet. The way he’s gazing at you, all concerned and sympathetic, makes you want to kiss him. Right on the lips. And the rest of his face, too.

He interrupts before you even open your mouth, “Don’t answer that. Well, answer it, but I’m disregarding anything you say because you’re spending the rest of the day in here where I can look after you.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Oh? On who’s orders?”

“Mine. I am a Doctor, after all,”

“I can’t stay here all day, Spence. It was just a little faint-“

“A little faint?! Y/N, although syncope is a common problem, if you go on about your day like nothing is wrong you could faint again and get hurt. Like, badly hurt.” He pauses, “And I can’t let that happen. So I’m going to take care of you and watch over you to ensure nothing happens.”

“That’s sweet, Spence, really, but-“

“No buts. I’m your Doctor.”

“You’re not a medical Doctor!”

“Then I’m your nurse.”

You smirk. He instantly regrets saying that.

“You’re my nurse?” You ask.

“I take it back. I’m your doctor.”

“If you really want to make me feel better, I’m pretty sure I have an old sexy nurse costume if you wanna wear it.”

“No. I do not want to wear that. Thank you.”

You pout again.

“Just relax, Y/N. At least for a little while.”

You concede, deciding some rest won’t hurt, nodding and shuffling your body to settle back into the couch. You close your eyes and Spencer goes back to his book – you’re a little surprised he’s staying with you, but then you assume he’ll stay until you fall asleep and come back to check on you later.

Some time passes where sleep evades you.

“Will you read to me, Spence?” You open one eye and look at him, where he’s biting his lip as his eyes furiously scan the pages.

His head snaps up, caught off guard, “Huh?”

“Will you read to me? I can’t relax.”

“Of-of course.” He looks back at the book in his lap, “The book I’m reading is in Russian, though.”

You hum, “That’s okay. I just like your voice.”

You don’t see it, but he blushes profusely, smothering a wide grin that he knows would make him look like a lovesick puppy.

Right before you fall asleep, you mumble something. If Spencer wasn’t sat so close, he would’ve missed it.

He’s glad he didn’t.

“You’re adorable.”

For the first time in his life, Spencer wants to squeal.

+++

Turns out you sleep the entire work day away. You were more exhausted and drained than you let on – the amount of case files everyone had to work through made you feel tremendously guilty when you imagined Hotch and JJ spending yet another late night at the office, significant others and kids eagerly waiting for them at home, so you took on way more work than you could handle, exerting yourself by staying up late, skipping meals - all things you’d kill your team for doing.

And you paid for it by fainting bright and early on a Friday morning.

Spencer watches you, gripping his satchel that sits across his body, as you slowly gather your belongings together. You’ve only just woken up, eyes bleary and movements sluggish.

He gathers all his courage and says, “I think I should take you home.”

You blink at him. “Why?”

He curses internally. He was hoping, in your disoriented state, you’d comply and definitely not question him.

Please don’t make him tell you he loves and cares for you so much and the idea of you going home alone after all this makes him anxious and he refuses to let you repeat what you’ve been doing to yourself.

He clears his throat, “Well, most of the time fainting is harmless, but a small percentage of people faint due to serious medical conditions, such as an irregular heartbeat. I’m just. I think it’d be safer if I stayed with you.”

You look at him, really look at him, and he tries to hide how he bites his lip and how his eyes flicker away for a moment.

He’s hiding something.

You turn your body towards him, suspicion clear on your face. Spencer swallows. You’ve got that look – brows raised, eyes narrowed and pursed lips.

He likes your lips. His eyes linger there.

You notice, of course you do, and you decide to take a leap.

“Alright. If you consider wearing the nurse outfit I’ll let you come home with me.”

Spencer guffaws.

“And,” You hold a finger up, “We can stop at your favourite restaurant on the way back and spend the night relaxing together.”

Spencer hehs, “Kinda sounds like a date to me.”

“Do you want it to be?”

Spencer nods without thinking. Of course he wants to date you. Then he blushes and tries to backtrack, “I mean-“

“I’d like it to be a date.” You smile. “It can be a date, if you want,”

Your confidence begins to waiver when he takes a couple seconds to respond. But Spencer can’t resist the grin that takes over, the elation he feels when he sees you’ve taken initiative and it’s quite possible you want him the same way he wants you.

He can’t help but ask, “This isn’t the fainting talking, right?”

You roll your eyes and move towards him, picking up his hand and interlocking your fingers.  

“Trust me when I say,” You promise, making sure you look him directly in the eyes, “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

When you look at him like that, Spencer thinks he might end up in that nurse outfit you mentioned.

[marvelobsessedteenager]

All The Hurt - Chapter 6

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings: ANGST, Peter was an ass, reader is a hurt and petty bitch, fluff to make up for the angst, curse words, lots of “coincidences”

Word count: 4.9k

A/n: This one’s gonna hurt..we’re nearing the end :3

----------------------------------------------------------------------

You were driving recklessly, you knew. You were in no condition to drive, the world around you blurring into blurbs of mixed sounds and colors, and in the middle of it all was black smoke, like a monster of threatened death. Your eyes were glued to it, not even leaving it when you passed multiple red lights, nor when you went way above the speed limit, nor when the camera had caught you doing so.

All you thought about was him. You couldn’t help but imagine the worst-case scenario, which only made you drive faster, pure terror gripping your poor heart in painful ways.

You sloppily drifted the car into a parking spot once you got there and stared up into the smoke, already feeling the fumes creep up your lungs. It looked much bigger up close, and before you knew it, you were slamming your car door and running into the flames, completely forgetting to lock your car.

Fear was shaking you to your core as memories of Delmar’s and DC made their way to the top of your head, but you attempted to push them down.

For Peter.

Heavy smoke filled your lungs and caused your eyes to water as you ripped a part of your dress and tied it around your nose and mouth, making your way through hell on Earth. Fire, scalding beneath your bare feet, lined their way through the sand, aggressively marking their territory, and only growing angrier by the minute.

You coughed and hissed through the blaze, screaming out Peter’s name in hopes that he would answer. That he would be alive to do so. Your throat was raw and burned as you continued calling out for him, wafting away the thick smoke that blocked your vision. The fire crept up towards the ends of your dress, causing most of the fabric at the bottom to turn into ashes.

It was difficult to even see, let alone breathe, but the sound of gruff coughing provided you with a path. You followed the noise, feet pushing hard against the dull sand that threatened to pull you in, but you ran anyway.

You were heaving by the time that you saw them. Two figures lay on their backs, one significantly smaller than the other - one you recognized.

You fell down beside him, “P-Peter?” Your eyes scanned his face, bloodied and bruised with scabs that littered it.

Please, please.

“Peter?” You asked again, watching closely for any movement, “Hey! Hey, wake up!” You slapped his cheek a couple times before picking up his arm and letting it go, watching it lifelessly drop beside him.

No.

You placed your hand on his chest, moving it around fervently, panic starting to settle in when you didn’t hear anything. You shakily pushed two fingers against his neck, praying and praying that you’d feel a pulse. It didn’t matter if it was strong or not. You just wanted to feel something.

Anything.

And yet, you felt nothing.

Nothing at all.

You breathed heavily, starting to feel tears of anger and immense sadness make their way to your eyes, but you refused to give up. You coughed some more, feeling your chest tighten painfully as you climbed on top of Peter, hands above the center of his chest and knees on either side of his body.

Thirty compressions, two rescue breaths.

One, two, three, four.

You counted and counted, feeling like someone had wrapped barbwires around your throat and pulled until your face felt wet. Your tears fell down onto his bloodied cheeks, creating a clear trail through the gathered dirt.

Twenty-nine, thirty.

You pressed your lips against his chapped ones, the taste of metal on your tongue as you supplied him with the limited air that remained within you, pulling back to see if it did anything.

Still nothing.

“Come on, Parker.” You continued pushing, harder this time, "Come on, Pete, breathe, breathe, please! Don’t leave me, come on, come on! Wake up, Peter!”

You screamed out in agony as you pressed against his chest, your arms aching and sore but not ready to let go.

Save him.

Eight, nine, ten.

If only you’d gotten there sooner.

Eleven, twelve, thirteen.

You stared up into the night sky, and you couldn’t help but plead its creator for a miracle. "Turn back time!" You cried in between heaves, "I’ll do anything. Please!”

It felt as if the world was against you, using Peter as a way to lure you into another world of emotions and rollercoasters, and now they were taking him from you - again. But this time, you had the chance to keep him. If you’d been here sooner, maybe you could’ve saved the boy who laid below you.

“I love you.” You bawled, the heel of your hand burning into his septum, “Please don’t leave me. I need you. I need you.”

Two rescue breaths.

You pulled back, bottom lip shaking as you held his still face in your hands, wiping away the dirt and saltwater that covered the pale skin below, feeling the hope you had within you dull. You placed your forehead on his, noses touching as you breathed into him one more time.

Just one more time.

You pulled back, once again staring to see any movement. Anything.

But there was nothing.

Nothing but a black, endless void of silence - a silence that could’ve been filled with his laughter and joy that could light up a planet. His stupid stories that he would forget he told you, but you wouldn’t tell him, just to hear his excitement when he said it.

You’d give anything to hear his voice again.

You hugged him tightly as your head heavily fell against his frozen chest, harsh sobs wracking through you, accompanied by unimaginable pain and memories you were too fond of to forget. The world spun around you, and you laid there with the faded love of your life. He was gone, and it was all because of you.

“I’m sorry,” you wheezed, “I’m so sorry, Peter.”

You couldn’t save him.

This is all your fault.

Quick breaths made their way in and out as you felt your body on the brink of a shut down from the lack of oxygen, hands digging into his suit as your eyes began to slowly close while you whispered apologies through little heaves of air.

Until you felt an inflation.

Then a deflation.

You slowly sat up, fighting through the tiredness as you placed your hand on his chest, feeling a weak pulse drum beneath your fingertips.

Just to make sure you weren’t going insane, you pressed your ear against his chest.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

You couldn’t help the small laugh that came from you. You cried, placing a gentle kiss on Peter’s forehead, feeling a small puff of air come from his mouth as you did so.

“I got you,” You mumbled against his head, “we’re okay.”

A low grunt came from beside you, and you wiped your eyes and looked to your right, squinting through the smoke. A man with much fewer bruises than Peter lay beside you, just beginning to twist and turn.

Boiling anger ran through your veins, your hands shaking with the urge to murder Liz’s dad, and you would have done it had you not needed to leave as fast as you could.

The air around you was too hard to breathe, and if you didn’t leave, you would’ve saved Peter for nothing.

Quickly, you tore the web-shooters off of Peter’s wrist and tried your best to web Liz’s dad up as much as you could. While doing so, his teary eyes locked with yours, watching you in defeat. He didn’t even try to fight back.

You shook your head at him, coughed some more, then ripped off another part of your dress, using the piece of fabric to cover Peter’s mouth and nose. You then proceeded to carry Peter on your back as you weaved through the thick smoke, falling a couple of times. Though your legs ached and your lungs burned, you kept going, eventually falling to your knees and crawling with Peter’s body on top of you until you reached your car, carefully laying him down on the backseats.

You shook your head of the dizziness and drove away, leaving the mess behind for the authorities to deal with.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

For hours you sat beside Peter on your bed and cleaned his bloody face with a wet rag, the shock still bolting through you like lightning, screams and ragged breaths echoing in your empty mind. Your fingers tingled with memories of the vacancy they felt beneath them when Peter’s chest was still, when he gave no evidence that he was alive. It was almost like you were reliving the memories like they happened years ago. But it was so vivid. You’d stare into space, sharp pains slicing through you as they’d appear before you.

You watched him like an eagle, worried that his breathing would somehow stop. You worried he’d slip away like he did hours ago. You worried he’d die, and that you wouldn’t be able to save him again.

You contemplated leaving him, knowing that you should take some time to care for yourself, but your feet couldn’t show you out the door. They were stuck, frozen in spot as you watched his chest rise and fall. The bags under his eyes stood out against his pale skin, and you wondered how often he slept.

If he slept.

You didn't know what you’d say when he’d wake up. You didn’t even know if he’d wake up. Shivers went down your spine when you thought of that possibility, but you knew you shouldn’t dwell on it, so you tried not to.

You felt a sudden dip in the empty spot beside you, but didn’t dare look away from Peter. A gentle hand placed itself on your shoulder, and a soft voice followed, “Y/n..” Jane called out. You continued to blankly blink at Peter, and only realized how dry your eyes were when Jane moved her hand and cupped your face, guiding your vision to hers.

“Y/n, honey, you need to go wash up. I’ll look after him.”

“I’m good, J.” You said. You trusted Jane with your life, and therefore trusted her with Peter’s, too, but you simply couldn’t leave him. You let it happen once. You should’ve stopped him, or gone after him the moment he left. But you didn’t. And look where that got you.

You were still dirty and covered in debris with first and second degree burns on the soles of your feet, but you paid them no attention. When you parked outside your house, you ran up to the door and rang it as many times as possible. You made it back to your car, crying out for Jane’s help and ignoring all questions she was throwing your way. You both carried Peter to your room, and only when you told her you’d change his clothes did she leave.

You were lucky Peter used to undress in front of you without a care in the world, but still felt awkward as you replaced his suit with some of his clothes you still had in your closet - ones you wore so frequently it smelt like you instead of him.

Jane came by afterward to help stitch him up, and spoke no words. She didn’t need to, though. It was clear she understood everything. She gave you clothes to change into, and stayed with Peter while you changed in a record-breaking time. You hadn’t washed yourself, too scared to leave Peter for too long.

“Sweetie..” She sighed, “you can’t do this. You need to take care of yourself, too.”

“I’m fine, Jane. I just need to be here.”

She gave you a sympathetic smile and a small nod, “Let me go get you some water, okay?” She stood tall before giving your shoulder a squeeze, leaving you alone with an unconscious body - one that could stay that way for God knows how long.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

It was just past 3 AM when you heard the low sound of groaning. You were nearly asleep by the time that Peter’s eyes slowly fluttered open, no doubt fighting the soreness of his body. He was lucky he didn’t obtain any serious injuries.

He was lucky he was even alive.

“You’re awake.” You said, an eerie numbness coating your words. You said it in a way that was calm. Too calm for someone who held their dead ex-best friend in her arms. You shivered at the memory and wrapped your arms around yourself, standing up and going over to grab the glass of water Jane had brought over.

“Y/n?” He squinted his eyes at you, his voice husky and dry as he began coughing. You rushed to his side and helped him sit up, placing the rim of the mug against his lips. He downed the water and sighed in relief, head lolling back against the headboard.

“Where am I?” He said, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Look around you, Pete.” You gestured to your surroundings. His head followed his eyes’ directions as they wandered around your room. Not much has changed since the last time he’d been here, save for a few more books on your bookshelf, a new rug, and-

And you took down the photos and cards. The board you both spent hours on.

His head cocked to the side, a rush of pain shooting up his chest. But this sting wasn’t from the fight. This wasn’t something that could be healed with antibiotics.

You noticed him zeroing in on the bare wall and cleared your throat loudly to divert his attention.

“You-” died, “-you passed out. Next to the wings dude and I saw and-“

“Mr. Stark’s stuff!” He realized, planting his feet on the ground and wobbly standing up, grabbing the top of the headboard to stabilize himself as he did, “I-I have to-“

You gently pushed him back down onto the bed, “No, no, no. You got the guy.”

He blinked up at you, confusion swirling in those warm brown eyes until he put two and two together, eyebrows creasing.

“How did you know where I was?” He asked, looking up at you with accusing eyes, “H-how am I here?”

You bit your lip and took your shaky hands off of his shoulders, knowing he knew the answer. He just wanted to hear you say it. The thumping of your heart became louder in your ears, but you replied anyway.

“I...” You gulped, “I went after you.”

“What?! Why?” He incredulously asked, his voice rising to his height as he towered above you, fire burning beneath his piercing stare, "Why would you do that?! It could’ve been dangerous, Y/n! You could’ve gotten hurt!”

“I could’ve gotten hurt?!” You yelled back, blood suddenly boiling, "I’m fine, have you seen yourself? You were bloodied and bruised and passed out beside him and he was awake! He would’ve murdered your ass! I believe it’s called thank you!”

“Thank you?! I had it handled!” His feet bumped into yours, head bowing until his nose nearly touched yours. You saw an angry vein popping from his neck to his forehead, pushing against the skin and you wanted to do nothing but smooth it back into its place. But you were too furious to do so.  

“Oh, yeah, it totally looked like things were under control considering a giant ass plane crashed out of nowhere, you were surrounded by fire and smoke, and there was a guy with wings who was ready to tear you to pieces!”

“Why do you care anyway?! Why are you trying to help? You just suddenly stopped wanting to make my life miserable? For what? To get even more popular? To tell your friends that you helped Spider-Man? You’re as fake as they come!”

The color drained from his face the second the words slipped, guilt and regret painted all over his features as he stood in shock at his own words.

And that, you realized, was your last straw.

You backed away from him like he had burnt you, letting out an empty laugh as he shook his head, ready to take back what he said, but now it was your turn to speak.

“Wait-"

“Fake? You wanna talk about fake? If I was fake, why haven’t I told anyone your secret? Why haven’t I just told the entire school who you really are? Why haven’t I told the world that the person behind the mask is really a selfish, naive high school teenager? Hell, if I was “fake” I would’ve let you die, because maybe then my life can piece itself back together after you fucking tore it apart!"

Your heart raced against your ribcage, adrenaline pumping from your head to your toes at lightning speed. You felt it everywhere as you backed him into the corner of your room.

You knew you had to stop and pick up the pieces of dignity he had left of you but you couldn’t. You couldn’t stop for the life of you. The confessions that tumbled from your lips were strong enough to push the little voice in your head that was begging you to stop.

This isn’t right, it said.

He was dead. He died. And here you were, screaming your head off at him.

But you just couldn’t stop the pain from forming into words. They only got even more raw and real as you fired at him, aiming deep into his soul directly into his heart with the intention to painfully crush.

And he felt it.

“What on fucking earth do you think happened to me after you vanished from my life, huh? What was I supposed to think when my best friend of years just decides to drop me and pretend like he doesn’t know me? What’s worse than that is that you carried on like I never meant anything to you! But you meant the fucking world to me! I was in love with you for fuck’s sake! But apparently, I wasn’t even good enough for you to give me a reason as to why you left, or good enough for you to stay! You of all fucking people should not talk about being fake!”

Your voice cracked and ached, but you showed no sympathy, even after his shoulders shrunk in their place. Frankly, all you saw were red and blue. Two dangerous colors that shouldn’t ever mix.

“You died, Peter! YOU DIED! You laid there with no fucking heartbeat, no breaths, absolutely nothing! What was I supposed to do? Just leave you? I wish I had the heart to do that but I don’t! I fucking don’t! No matter how much you hurt me, I’ll still be there for you like the fucking dumbass that I am because I’m still in love with you and I always fucking will be, even when I shouldn’t be!”

You were panting and out of breath, like you’d just ran laps upon laps. Your throat was in desperate need of liquid, head pounding against your skull painfully as your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, like someone was holding it down.

His eyes seem to water, but you couldn’t see past the buildup of angry tears that gathered on your waterline and dropped onto the rug below you.

Peter looked shocked, guilty, and afraid. He’d never seen you blow up like this before, much less on him. But he’d also never truly known just how badly he hurt you. No fight has ever been this big. No fight had ever shattered his heart and swathed him up in remorse as he watched you furiously wipe at the tears that had slipped past the barriers of your eyes.

The tears he caused, and that was enough to make his throat tighten and mind turn into mush.

You silently stepped back when you realized what you’d said, berating yourself for exposing your secret. You confessed. You confessed more than you should’ve, and you regretted it.

You were right back to square one. You didn’t want to look at him. You still felt that burning rage of hatred inside you, only this time it wasn’t directed towards him. It was directed towards yourself, for all the times you chose to listen to your heart over your brain.

Now was one of them.

And because of that, you knew he couldn’t look at you the same way again. You couldn’t look at yourself the same way, either.

“Y/n,” He called out, voice breaking like his demeanor, "I didn’t-"

“Get out.” You demanded, voice stern despite how broken and vulnerable you appeared.

He faltered, hand pausing in the air from when it was going to reach out to grab yours, “What?”

“Get out of my house, Parker.”

A beat of tense silence passed. You didn’t want to know what he was thinking. You knew what he was going to say, and you didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want him to apologize and make amends. You weren’t going to set yourself up for failure and heartbreak again, especially if he didn’t leave at this moment.

He wasn’t going to say it back, and that was enough to make you hate yourself for loving him for all these years, all the while he didn’t feel a single thing back.

“Y/n, just listen to me-"

“I said-” you furiously grabbed his mask and suit and threw them at his chest, only getting angrier when he actually caught them, “-get out! Now!”

“Y/n/n,” He said, sounding like he whimpering in pain. But you knew he didn’t care. It was all an act. He showed how he truly felt about you in the heat of the moment, and those words can never be forgotten.

“Don’t call me that. Don’t fucking call me that. Just get the fuck out of my house.” You walked to the door and held it open for him, anxiously waiting for when he’d leave as your fingers fervently drummed against the handle.

He sighed, his fists clutching the fabric so hard it would burst if it were glass. A gulp could be heard as he padded across the room, pausing to whisper ’I’ll talk to you soon' and walking out, flinching when you slammed the door behind him.

You paced the length of your room with ragged breaths and your hands on your head, feeling an onset of a meltdown as the words made their way in and out of your mind. Hot tears heavily weighed you down until you fell to the ground beside your bed, cradling your knees to your chest and rocking back and forth, letting out the most painful wail you ever have in your life.

That night, you cried your hardest, the tears enough to fill buckets upon buckets. You wept until you were left out of breath, until you were defeated by the tiredness.

You were just...

Done.

Your exhaustion quickly knocked you out as you fell asleep on the ground with smeared makeup, a dirty face, and a clogged nose, unaware of the concerned eyes that watched you from your balcony with an aching heart.

——————————-

You somehow ended up in your bed with a foggy memory, the morning sun welcoming you with its rays that warmed you up, spewing a happy yellow across your tired body through the openings of your curtains. They promised you joy, and for a moment, you delightedly basked in them.

Until the memories of last night hit you like an oncoming bus, causing a throbbing, sinking feeling to lodge itself in your chest. What was worse was when you remembered today was Monday, a school day in which you’d most probably see him again.

You sighed and stretched your sore limbs, trudging your way to the bathroom, passing by the mirror that hung on the wall.

Then you backtracked.

You tilted your head in confusion, fingers tracing the clear skin of your face and arms. You were unable to recall if you wiped your smudged makeup off last night, let alone cleaned yourself, but beside your mirror was a garbage can filled with used wipes, so you shrugged it off and assumed you did.

Guess Jane must’ve taken care of me, you thought.

You went through your morning routine and got ready for school, making your way down the stairs with a heavy backpack and an even heavier heart, your stomach vibrating in a dull pain in anxiety. The sound of sizzling made its way into your ears the same time you caught a whiff of eggs. You paused for a moment, wondering if you should sneak out the back door.

You hadn’t expected Jane to be awake this early. Usually, she was dead asleep - she wasn’t much of a morning person - so her being awake alarmed you.

Regardless, you walked into the kitchen and flopped down on one of the stools, placing the backpack on the ground beside you, careful not to startle Jane, who stood with her back to you flipping an omelette.

Quietly, you cleared your throat and sat up straighter, “Mornin’ Jane.”

Her shoulders reached her ears in surprise, pan staying in the air for a couple of seconds, "Oh. Um, good morning.” She said with a strained voice, transferring the omelette onto a plate and sliding it over to you with sympathy painted on her face.

“What’s up?” You slowly asked, pulling the plate towards you suspiciously. The last time she made you breakfast was when you were twelve. From there on out, you told her you were old enough to make your own food, and though she stood by you to supervise, she let you do your thing.

“You only call me Jane when you’re upset.” She pointed out, lips rolling inwards.

“And you haven’t made me breakfast in years so,” you awkwardly laughed, picking at the appetizing omelette. You didn’t know what was wrong with you. You were hungry, but you couldn’t eat. The thought alone of doing so made you want to throw up.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” Jane asked, craning her head a little and watching your every move.

“Yeah, um,” you dropped the fork and scratched the back of your drooping head, “C-can you keep Peter’s secret? He doesn’t want anyone to know and-”

“Sure. Of course.” She nodded, agreeing quickly, "Is there anything else?”

“I…” you sighed and chewed on your bottom lip, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

False. You wanted nothing more than to talk about it. But you simply couldn’t burden Jane with your problems. She probably had enough on her hands as is.

She seemed disappointed in your answer, like she was waiting for a specific one, but gave you a small smile anyway, “Okay, well, you know I’m always here."

“Yeah,” you blankly stared at the plate in front of you, “I know.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------

“Y/n!” You heard someone shout from across the hall, and had to fight the urge to run away and pretend like you didn’t hear anything. You felt incredibly drained today, and had no energy to deal with anyone, even Flash.

You groaned inwardly and turned, waiting for Flash to jog up to you with a grin. You wanted to get out of school during lunch, just for a while, but it seemed like you couldn’t leave at all.

“Where were you? Crisco Kid said your phone’s with him but he wouldn’t give it to me.” He pointed his thumb in the direction he just ran in from.

“Crisco Kid? You mean Ned?”

“Yeah, haha, get it? ‘Cause he’s fat?” He nudged your rib, giving you a playful wink, but you were in no mood for games.

“That’s not funny, Flash. Don’t make fun of appearances.” You said, already walking away from him. You felt like you were being suffocated everywhere you went, with no escape whatsoever, whether it’d be catching Peter’s eye from across the room or having someone question you about Spider-Man like you knew him personally. Which, you did, but they didn’t need to know that.

Ned had passed you a note in the middle of class saying “meet me at 2:45 sharp in the decathlon practice room to get your phone.” You furrowed your eyebrows and looked up, but he was already immersed in what the teacher was saying. You were too tired to argue with him, so you shrugged it off and planned to do what he said, no matter how suspicious it was.

Flash easily caught up to you and stood in front of you with his hands on your shoulders, concern lacing his voice, “What’s gotten into you, Y/n/n? You don’t…look okay.”

No matter how much makeup you'd put on, your bloodshot eyes and bags that were being held beneath the layers of foundation and concealer shone through like a bright light, a reminder of the shit that happened yesterday.

All it took was Flash’s question for him to break through. A switch had flipped in your mind, and you were suddenly feeling overwhelmed with emotions.

“It’s just…he came- he asked- I don’t know what to do a-and-“ you were having a hard time constructing your thoughts into a sentence, words spewing left and right, already feeling the buildup of tears.

“Okay, okay,” Flash quieted you down, “let’s talk about it.” He grabbed put his arm around your shoulder and guided you towards the cafeteria, warding off anyone who tried to come near the both of you with a glare while you wiped your stray tears.

Tags: @peachescream06, @hayhays

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[empire-of-wildfire]

HOLIDAY SURPRISE

A @starseternalnighttriumphant X @empire-of-wildfire CHRISTMAS MINI-FIC COLLABORATION

a/n: here’s the last part guys!! We hope you’ve enjoyed reading this as much as we loved writing it! Super sorry about the posting schedule change, but sometimes life gets in the way and it just didn’t work out like we planned.

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

Cassian woke up in his hotel room on New Years’ Day and wondered how much shit he’d be in if he just skipped his brother’s wedding. 

No one would admit it, but they’d heard his argument with Nesta on the front porch Christmas morning, knew that Nesta was doing everything in her power to avoid him and make sure he didn’t see Amina. He’d only been allowed five minutes with his daughter the past couple of days, and that was because Azriel had “accidentally” let it slip that Elain was watching the little girl. She giggled and let him show her the proper footing for sword play before the front door opened and Nesta was standing there ready to spit fire at him. 

Since then, he’d been helping get everything ready for the wedding, setting up tables and chairs and  light fixtures. Feyre kept him busy, giving him sympathetic glances every so often. She’d tried to talk to him about it, but he shut it down every time. Nesta had made it quite clear how she felt about everything. And once that woman made her mind up, it took nothing less than a miracle to change it.

Sighing heavily, he tossed back the covers and threw his legs over the edge of the bed, rubbing his face roughly. He stared at the suit hung up on the hotel room mirror, the fabric a deep navy with a white undershirt and matching navy tie. A memory tugged at the edge of his mind. 

“What kind of wedding do you want? Tell me and I’ll make it happen.”

Nesta propped herself up on her hand, looking down at him with a soft smile. “You’re being very bold.”

“I’m going to marry you one day, Nesta Archeron,” he drawled, running a finger over her bare shoulder. “And I want it to be everything you’ve dreamed of.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she breathed. “As long as you’re the one I see at the end of the aisle, I don’t care what the wedding looks like.”

His heart stuttered at her words, but he played it off with his signature smirk, grabbing her up and rolling on top of her as she laughed. He kissed her deeply and then pulled back, grinning. “Don’t tempt me, I’ll be waiting for you in a gold suit.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she laughed and he decided he wanted to hear that noise for the rest of his life.

His phone buzzing yanked him out of the past, and a sharp pang pulsed in his chest as he recalled it. Frowning, he picked up the phone, a long list of things to do already waiting for him from Rhys. Sighing, he gathered his things and headed to the small convention center where the wedding and reception would be. 

The grand ballroom was mostly finished, needing just a few more last-minute things before the wedding in a few hours. Rhys was rushing around and barking orders, none of the women to be seen. He knew they’d be upstairs getting themselves and Feyre ready, and his heart stuttered slightly when he thought about the other Archeron sister that held his heart. 

“Rhys,” Cassian stopped him after half an hour. “Everything is fine. Let the rest of the staff finish the last details. We should be getting ready too.”

His brother’s shoulders were tense under her hands, and his eyes were slightly wild with what Cassian expected was pre-wedding anxiety. “I just want to make sure everything is perfect.”

Cassian’s mouth twisted into a grin and he looped his arm around Rhys’s neck, dragging him towards the staircase that led to conference rooms upstairs. “Feyre couldn’t care less about what everything looks like. She’s marrying you, not the ballroom.”

Rhys gave him a long suffering sigh, but allowed his brother to lead him to the room where all the groomsmen would be getting ready. Azriel was there pouring whiskey into glasses, Varian and Tarquin arguing over which shoes would look best with their suits. 

“Get dressed and do all your pretty man things, and then we’ll drink until it’s time,” Azriel drawled to Rhys, a slight smirk on his face. 

Once everyone was dressed and ready to go, they took turns passing stories around, drinking whiskey until they felt warm and loose. Cassian stopped the pouring, not wanting Rhys to be drunk on his wedding day. An alarm went off, signaling it was time for Rhys to head down. Cassian clapped him on the shoulder and poured one more round after he left.

Minutes later, Cassian turned the corner to where the bridesmaids were already waiting, and his breath caught in his throat. Nesta was first in line, an icy blue dress clinging to her figure. It was sleeveless, and billowed at her feet, the bodice looking like ice crystalized over her abdomen and up her chest. Her hair was down and lazily curled, falling around her. She had a bouquet of flowers in all hues of blue in one hand, the other fixing a loose curl on the dark head of the small child before her. 

He wondered if he was about to pass out from lack of oxygen as he took in his daughter, dressed in the same navy color as his suit, the dress puffing out in a tutu fashion, white tights on her legs. There was a flower crown on her black locks, the same flowers in the bridesmaids’ bouquets. She had a basket in her hand, and as he stood there and watched Nesta and Amina smile at each other, he realized how much of a godsdamn idiot he’d been. 

When he’d woken up on Christmas morning to an empty bed, he knew something wasn’t right. When he’d found his phone next to him, open on his text thread with Emerie, inappropriate photos glaring right in front of his face, he knew he was in deep shit. Of course Nesta had assumed the worst. He would’ve done the same. He had immediately deleted the messages, sick to his stomach as he realized Nesta had seen them and left him there. But she’d had to know that Emerie meant nothing to him. In fact, the moment he’d landed in Velaris he hadn’t thought of the woman once. He hadn’t even thought to tell her he was staying in Velaris longer, that’s how little he’d thought of her since he’d been here.

And then Christmas morning had been so thick with tension, and the fight they’d had on the front porch had struck him deep in his heart. The way she’d looked at him, with heartbreak in her eyes, had been worse than the first time he’d seen it four years ago when he’d told her that he was leaving for Illyria. 

Now he was standing here looking at the woman he’d loved for a near decade, the woman who was it for him, it was going to be Nesta or no one else. The mother of his daughter, who was looking up at her mother with an adoring look. All he wanted, all he needed was standing here in this convention center and he couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to figure it out.  

He walked up to her, trying his best to stay relaxed as he watched her shoulders tense up. She didn’t look at him but she knew he was there, straightening up and pretending to pick at a loose string in her dress. He just stared at her until she let out a disgusted noise and looked up at him, that steely fire in her eyes. “Can I help you?”

“You look beautiful,” Cassian murmured, his face open and soft. 

That fire guttered and she swallowed hard before looking back to the doors to the ballroom where Rhys had just slipped through. He looked over everyone and then gave Cassian a nervous smile. 

“The music is going to start in a minute, and the attendants will open the doors,” he explained, even though they’d already gone over this many times. “Once the doors open Amina will go down and you just follow her.”

“Yes brother,” Cassian huffed, giving him a playful shove. “Now please get back in there and wait.”

Rhysand let out a deep breath and disappeared back into the ballroom. Cassian just shook his head and smirked, watching as everyone started to fall in line. He looked back to Nesta and was surprised to find her already looking at him. She said nothing as she held out her arm, and Cassian wrapped it around his, resting her hand on his forearm. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but the music started and the doors opened. 

His eyes were on Amina as she smiled at everyone and threw flower petals all over the floor. She was a shining star, and his heart melted as he watched her. He wondered how that smile would mature, if it would turn subdued like her mother’s or wild and wicked like his. He knew he couldn’t wait to find out. 

He reluctantly let Nesta go as they headed to their respective sides of the aisle, Cassian standing between his brothers as they all turned their attention back towards the doors. A moment later, Feyre came into view, and a grin crept across his face. 

She was absolutely beautiful. Her dress was a soft white, that ice-like beading matching the bridesmaids’ dresses. A crown sat on her head, the same bridal crown that Rhys’s mom had worn during her wedding. A soft smile sat on her face, her eyes locked on only one person in the entire room. 

Rhys had a hand on his mouth, eyes shining as his gaze stayed on his soon-to-be wife. As she neared, he dropped his hand to reveal a devastatingly handsome smile, reaching out his hand to take hers. 

Cassian’s eyes drifted to where Nesta stood off to Feyre’s side as the couple went through their vows. The words hit home with every syllable, and when her eyes connected with his, he knew this was where he was meant to be. He hoped his own eyes reflected the romantic words Feyre and Rhys were exchanging, hoped she could see the decision he’d made the moment he saw her standing there in that dress. 

Her blue-gray eyes never left his, even when the minister announced the couple to kiss and everyone clapped and shouted. They didn’t leave his when Feyre and Rhys walked back down the aisle, and didn’t leave his when he reached for her to follow them. He only looked away when he felt a tug at his pants, saw his daughter looking at him with a bright smile. That smile took his breath away, and he grinned back, grabbing her up in his arms. She fit just right in one arm, his other hand reaching to grab Nesta’s. She surprisingly allowed it, and he could see that she was fighting a smile. 

They made their way to the reception area, finding themselves at the same table with Feyre, Rhys, Azriel and Elain. Nesta took Amina from him and they sat on the opposite side of the table, and Cassian tried not to let it sting. He wrapped himself up in conversation with Azriel, finally getting to catch up with him. 

Then it was time for dancing. He watched Feyre and Rhys dance together, smiling slightly the whole time. He knew his brother would be happy for the rest of his life, as long as he had her. When everyone else began to join, he suddenly felt nervous, as if he was going to prom for the first time all over again. As his eyes landed on the woman opposite, he figured it was kind of similar. He’d asked Nesta to prom, fully expecting her to laugh in his face. She had surprised him by saying yes, and when she’d said yes again to a date with him when he’d dropped her off at home, he knew she would change his life forever. 

He stood and came around the table, holding out his hand. Nesta looked to his hand and then up at him, her eyes guarded. 

“May I please have this dance?” he breathed, holding her gaze.

It seemed like he waited a lifetime before she nodded and put her hand in his, letting him pull her out of her chair. He guided her to the dance floor, placing one hand on her hip and clasping one of her hands in the other. Her free hand came up to his shoulder, her body slightly stiff as if she didn’t know if she wanted to touch him. 

“Relax,” Cassian drawled, pulling her closer. “Pretend we’re juniors at prom again.”

She rolled her eyes but he felt her body slowly start to loosen under his hands. They swayed to the soft music of the song playing, her body warm against his. Her hand felt right in his, and he wished he could bottle up this feeling and get drunk on it for the rest of his life. 

“I need to tell you something,” he said, sighing when she tensed again. “And I need you to listen to every word of it.”

Nesta looked up into his eyes, seeing the seriousness there, the pleading. She exhaled a deep breath. “Okay.”

“When I left after college, I thought I was making the right choice,” he began, not looking away from her intense gaze. “To get a job with a high-end law firm… I never thought that would happen for someone like me. And being young, unemployed, and not sure where I was going in life, it was like a miracle handed to me. 

“I thought you would follow me. I was so… I was so set on this job, I thought you would see how much I wanted it and would just… upend your life for me.” He shook his head. “I should’ve realized that would’ve been a shitty thing to ask of you. And I should’ve realized it was a mistake to take the job.”

Nesta’s full mouth fell open slightly, eyebrows narrowing in surprise at his words. 

“I meant what I said on Christmas Eve,” he breathed, hand releasing her own to come up and stroke her cheek. “I can practice law anywhere. I don’t…” he shut his eyes briefly before opening them again. “I don’t need the job in Illyria. I don’t need the law firm, I don’t need Emerie, I don’t need the recognition it gave me.”

He cupped her face between his hands, staring into the hazy blue gaze. “I need you. I need you, our daughter, this life. I want to wake up to you every day, I want to hear our daughter’s laugh, I want to watch her grow up and I want to keep falling in love with you.” He released a shaky breath. “I have never stopped loving you, Nesta Archeron. And I’m so fucking sorry. I am so sorry that it took me this long to figure it out. I’m sorry that I missed so much of your life, of Amina’s life. And you don’t have to forgive me, but I will spend every day of the rest of my life proving to you that the only things that matter to me are you and our daughter.”

They stood still on the dance floor, couples still dancing around them, but all Cassian could focus on was the woman looking up at him with wide eyes, her face completely open, every emotion he was feeling flickering across her features. He said nothing more, thumbs stroking her strong cheekbones. Her eyes roved over his face almost wildly, and then her mouth parted again, her breath shaking. 

“I…” her voice was hoarse. “For the past four years, Cassian, that’s all I wanted to hear.”

His knees threatened to buckle at the relief that flooded through him. He pulled her even closer, forehead resting against hers, noses brushing. “I will say it every day until you believe it. I’m not going anywhere. My home is here. You are here, Amina is here. I’m not going to make that mistake again.”

Tears dropped down Nesta’s cheeks, and he wiped them away, his thumb brushing across her bottom lip. 

“I don’t know if I can forgive you, but I want to try,” Nesta whispered, her voice thick with emotion. 

Cassian couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his lips. “Good enough for me.”

And when he leaned down to kiss her, when she didn’t hesitate to kiss him back, he knew that this was his forever. 

—

THREE YEARS LATER

Nesta Archeron-Laskaris often thought about what a whirlwind the last seven years of her life had been. From losing Cassian when he went to Illyria, to finding out she was pregnant, to then trying to deal with a newborn baby that grew into a stubborn, headstrong little girl, her first years out of college were a constant juggling act. But over time, and with help from her family, she went from feeling like she was drowning in a sea of uncertainty and self doubt, to being able to tread water most days. Then Cassian came back for the wedding, and flipped her world around again so she didn’t know which way was up. 

A small smile crept onto her lips at the thought of Cassian. Her husband. He’d spent every day of the last three years making up for the time he lost with her, and with Amina. He’d moved back to Velaris permanently about six months after Feyre and Rhys’s wedding and had moved in with her and Amina. They’d had a lot of time to work on their relationship, rebuilding the trust they’d lost when he left. Cassian had started his own law firm in Velaris, and was doing extremely well for himself.

Once they finally felt like they were in a good place, that they’d been able to work through everything that had happened while they’d been apart, he’d gotten down on one knee and asked the question they both knew he’d been waiting to ask for more than a decade. Cassian had made everything perfect, taking her back to their lake spot where they’d made so many memories when they were kids. After he’d proposed he’d laid Nesta down and made love to her under the Velaris starlight, worshipping her body and whispering promises of his commitment and love for her into her skin.

They had a short engagement, wanting to be tied together as soon as humanly possible. The wedding had been about a year ago.

The autumn leaves created the perfect backdrop of red, orange and gold behind the archway Cassian was standing under. Nesta had always wanted a fall wedding, but after Cassian left she never thought she’d get to this point. It shouldn’t have surprised her that Cassian still managed to make every single dream of hers and every promise he’d ever made to her come true.

It was a perfect day for a wedding, not cold enough that the guests would freeze but the air still carried the scent of crisp leaves and fires that Nesta always associated with the season. She watched Amina walk down the aisle, just as she’d done for Feyre and Rhys’s wedding a few years ago, spreading flower petals and smiling at everyone. She’d grown so much in the last few years, and she amazed Nesta and Cassian every day with her intellect and her bright, bubbly personality.

Feyre and Elain followed after Amina, and then suddenly it was Nesta’s turn and all she could see was Cassian. The moment he saw her tears sprang to his eyes, and Nesta could see every single ounce of love and adoration shining in those hazel eyes she loved so much. A single tear slipped down his cheek as Nesta reached him, and she quickly brushed it away before they turned towards the minister.

The ceremony was simple, but neither of them heard a word the minister said. Their eyes were locked on each other, not looking away for a single second until it was time to exchange rings and vows.

As always, Nesta went first.

“Cassian. Our life together hasn’t always been the easiest, but there are very few things I regret because it’s led us here, and given us a beautiful little girl and a wonderful life together. I’ve loved you every single day for twelve years, and I’ll love you every single day of the rest of my life. You’re an amazing father to Amina, you love me more than I deserve, and I thank the gods every day for giving me you. Every day is a new adventure with you, and I can’t wait to see what our future holds.”

Then it was Cassian’s turn. He was visibly emotional, as was Nesta, and he swallowed past the tightness in his throat before speaking.

“I told you a couple years ago that there was nowhere else I’d rather be than by your side. That you were my home. And while I meant it with every fiber of my being then, that had absolutely nothing on how I feel about you now. Everyday I’ve fallen more in love with you, with what an amazing mother, sister, and friend you are, and I know I’m going to keep falling harder for you every day for the rest of my life. I knew at sixteen that you were it for me. My only regret is the time we lost, but I can make peace with that knowing that we’ll be together for the rest of our lives and even beyond that. Because I belong with you, Nesta Archeron, in every single life. Not just this one.”

Then the minister pronounced them husband and wife, and Nesta thought that when Cassian kissed her, she was going to combust right then and there from sheer joy.

Nesta looked out their dining room window, thinking about that day. She’d been doing that a lot in the last week, the news she’d gotten from her doctor making her more nostalgic than normal. She’d told Cassian she couldn’t wait for what their future together held, knowing it would be full of surprises. She just hadn’t anticipated the surprises starting so soon. Although, with Cassian as her husband and her daughter being the spitting image of him, she supposed she should be thankful they didn’t start sooner.

At that moment, she heard the front door open, and Cassian and Amina burst in the kitchen after Cassian went to pick her up from her sleepover at Elain’s. Amina ran over to her mother, throwing herself into Nesta’s lap. 

“Hi Mommy!” Amina grinned up at her.

Nesta laughed lightly, pushing Amina’s hair out of her face. “Hi baby. Did you have fun at Aunt Elain’s?”

Amina nodded vehemently. “We had pancakes for breakfast! Uncle Az even let me put whipped cream on them!”

Nesta smiled at her, deciding to ignore the fact that her daughter had eaten that much sugar so early in the day. “I’m glad you had fun. Go put your bag upstairs, okay?”

“Okay!” With that, Amina bolted up the stairs, leaving Cassian and Nesta alone in the kitchen. 

Nesta stood up, walking over to Cassian and folding herself into his chest. He immediately wrapped his arms around her, rubbing soothing circles on her back.

“You okay?” He asked, mild concern lacing his tone.

“I’m fine, just missed you,” she replied softly, looking up into his hazel eyes. She gave him a quick kiss then turned to grab a drink out of the fridge. “Hey, while I have you here, will you look at the papers on the table? We both need to sign them but I need you to look them over first,” she said as nonchalantly as she could.

She heard more than saw Cassian make his way over to sit down at the dining room table. “Sure, what are the papers for?”

Nesta deflected quickly, not wanting to give it away. “You’ll know as soon as you read them.”

Cassian shuffled through the papers, and she saw his brows knit together in confusion. “You got the paperwork to change Amina’s last name? I didn’t think we were doing that yet. I know we talked about it, but—” He broke off suddenly, finally noticing what was under the paperwork that he’d just picked up. “Nes, why is there a sonogram picture on the table?”

Nesta let out a soft sob, smiling through her tears as she walked over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “The sonogram is mine. I had an appointment two days ago. I just got the paperwork in the mail this morning, but I figured we should probably do it now, since Amina will probably want to have the same last name as her little brother or sister.”

Nesta had hardly finished her sentence before Cassian had launched himself out of the chair, grabbing Nesta around the waist and spinning her in a circle as they both laughed. He set her down and rested his forehead against hers, tears already running down his face. “You’re pregnant? Seriously?”

Nesta nodded quickly, wiping her eyes. “Seven weeks yesterday.”

“We’re having a baby,” Cassian whispered, eyes alight with wonder and love.

“We’re having a baby,” Nesta echoed.

Cassian kissed her, pouring all his love for her into the kiss. When he finally pulled back, breathing heavily, he looked into the steely, gray-blue eyes of the love of his life, the mother of his children, and said “I love you, Nesta.”

Nesta brushed his lips with hers and whispered back, “I love you too.”

-

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[choco-mark]

A Marriage of Inconvenience (Epilogue)

overall pairing: mafia!jeno x mafia!oc

overall genre: angst | smut | fluff

warnings: mentions of violence + death, mentions of drugs + drugging + drugging someone else, mentions of sex

summary: when two mafia gangs decide to end their family feud after decades, your mother decides to give your hand away to marriage of their son, lee jeno. he seemed to hate you from the moment he laid his eyes on you, but could the resolution lead to something much more than a bride and groom?

words: 3k

masterlist

requested by 🤡 anon

1 December

Seven months. That was how long it had been since Jeno had slipped a band onto your finger and kissed you into a marriage that was once so...inconvenient to you. It was funny even thinking back to how the two of you treated each other with so much hostility only a month ago, acting as if a difference of family was so disgusting. It was funny, thinking back to when you tried to kill him with the very nice blades that the Lees polished every other day.

Your back hit the soft mattress and you laid yourself down against the material of the pillow that was now cushioning your head. But your brain didn’t seem to remember the exact moment your hatred for him changed into something else, and even as much as you traveled back into your memories, you never could really find the minute you had looked at him without thinking ‘oh, Lee.’ It made you wonder what changed, but the more you wondered, the more you understood. From all that you had witnessed for the past while, the one thing that hit you the hardest was that: Lee Jeno was just like you. As much as you wouldn’t had dared admit it before, you knew it now; you knew exactly how much the two of you had in common. 

Your entire life you had been raised like bred puppy not to ever trust anyone with your life except for yourself, which often caused you to shun people immediately for the moment you saw this. If it wasn’t in battle, you had never found yourself the kind of person to make friends or casually talk, and when it was, well, you always just did the job that you were told to do. Your personality was an original cold person, the kind of person that wouldn’t want anyone near them that would cause their own emotional attachment. The only exception being family.

You could tell how close Jeno was with his family, and lately having confided in you very minutely about his feeling, how close he was with Donghyuck. It hadn’t occurred to him that his brother had been going through depressive episodes, which had caused him to have outbreaks of different emotions at different times because of the drugs that he had been abused with, not at least until the Lee doctor had diagnosed him in the dungeon that he had been locked up in. And according to him, it had hit him hard. Harder than he had expected himself to be affected by it. His relationship with Taeyong wasn’t necessarily the same, considering he had always had a certain hate for his younger brothers, but Mark? He had said that even if he wasn’t his brother, he would’ve still considered him as one.

You had told him that you—were somewhat similar, though, he didn’t need you to tell him because he had already seen that attachment towards Jisung the entire time that he was recovering. You had always seen it as a weakness, the way that family always was the soft spot in your heart, but the more you talked about it with him, the more you realized it was a strength. Your love for your brother was out of the roof, and he knew that as much as you showed it, and he assured you that it most definitely did not make you weak because you loved.

In the past few days, it had almost felt like you and Jeno had just passed a stage from strangers to friends, from the way you two were actually able to talk and train together. Well, counting out the fact that you had insisted you go to the training room and Jeno had sheepishly told you that his father had specifically asked you not to leave the bedroom for the rest of the month. It ended with you threatening to punch your—father-in-law in the face, and a few very angry knives being thrown at targets.

But Jeno was nice to train with, because he was like you in the fact that your training time was your therapeutic relaxation time. You didn’t want to be disturbed, and neither did he, and that made the perfect pairing. It only lasted till sparring, where you knew he lacked it, and you gave him a few techniques that would help him in the hopeful future. And Jeno, well, he had helped you with your rifle skills.

The two of you were—well—kind of forced to share a room, which allowed for eventful breakfasts and lunches and dinners that would consist of long, unusual, and unnecessary discussions. They were forever ongoing, and they varied from topics such as old comics to your lecture on feminism, but, it allowed for some kind of bonding between the two of you.

Jeno had eventually understood the reason why you were always so defiant against his father, and it did hit him that the Lees were always so discriminatory towards women in their household. He had said with a small voice and a slight smile that ‘one day, when I take over the clan, I’ll abolish the patriarchy.’ But, you both knew that day wouldn’t come for a while, at least, so you had to deal with it for the time being.

You had also learned that Jeno had a very high sex drive. Well, higher than you had expected. You already knew that he really liked taking that cock of his and stuffing you full, but what you didn’t expect was his easy submission. There had been one day where you had taken you chance and sat on his chest, and to your surprise, he had looked up at you with pleading eyes that made you want to sin. And the best part was when he asked for your validation, the constant ‘am I doing good?’ or ‘does that feel good?’ that would make your heart warm up in different ways.

Jeno was sensitive, too, and you hadn’t even noticed it until you woke up one morning to find him crying silently into his hands after hearing the news that one of his sisters were getting married. You were—expecting him to say that someone died, but the fact that his tears were for a happy beginning made you realize how much pent up emotion he had inside of him. You were almost glad to have witnessed him crying for something so...soft.

Jeno was understanding, way more understanding that it made you want to be more accepting of him as well. He had read your mind one night and had snuck you out to visit your home just for few hours, to reunite you with the rest of your family for just the result of your smile in the end. At least, Jeno knew what it felt like being kept away from his family.

You knew he visited Donghyuck everyday, who was now in the hospital wing being treated indefinitely. Though you couldn’t necessarily bring yourself to see the man who had abducted you again without feeling the flashes from before, you knew that it meant a lot to him that he go see him. Even if he didn’t tell you, Mark did, and he always gave you a little toothy smile and told you not to worry about him.

It was on the seventeenth of May when you had woken up with severe cramps and nausea that had caused you to vomit at the break of dawn. It was on that same day that Jeno had insisted that he carry you to the hospital wing with the belief that you were ‘dying from side effects of the oxygen depreciating drug.’ And it was on the same day that the doctor had widened his eyes and told the two of you that, no, you were not dying, but you were pregnant.

The first thing that had come to your mind was: I’m not ready for this. And the truth was that, no, you were one hundred percent not ready to become a mother and bring a child into the world. Jeno had stood there for what felt like an eternity with his jaw dropped until you had given him a slap on the thigh. Well, you shouldn’t had expected yourself to not be pregnant with all that sex and all that non-protection. Yet that was the outcome. But Jeno seemed to have expected it, and the funniest part to you was, he was ten times more excited than you were. Sure, having kids was definitely something you wanted, but having kids when you were nineteen and just married? Not really your cup of tea.

You had finally gotten enough of his anticipating words by the end of the next night, yelling at him with no rationale on the fact that you didn’t even want kids in the first place. That wasn’t completely true, no, but in the heat of the moment, you couldn’t take seeing him so happy about something that he didn’t even see as a burden.

But another thing about Jeno that you had learned was that, he was so selfless. He had sat down with you with his hands grasping yours the entire time as he let you pour your heart out about everything. You ended up crying, almost embarrassingly, but he assured you that it was okay. It was okay to cry when things don’t go the way you wanted.

Jeno was comforting, that was for sure. All he ever did was offer you comfort when you needed it, and gave you everything he could even when you didn’t need it. It was almost like he was sacrificing himself for you, and you didn’t even know why. Not until he told you.

You still remembered the day he did, he had let you sit on his lap in the empty training mats in mid-August, rubbing your thighs softly. You had missed training with him, and that was something he had forbid ever since you had started showing. The least he could do was take you to the scene, and enjoy it with you.

He had pressed his lips down your neck, trailing back up to whisper into your ears words that you truly, never would’ve expected him to say before. You had turned to stare at him for so long, and you had watched the anticipating shine of his eyes as he waited for your response. But, you felt the same way, of course, how could you not?

And everytime since that first time, you would feel like little butterflies in your stomach that would flutter around when he kissed you with those rose lips of his. Kissed you with all the love that he said and gave. And so you had told him back, so quietly, ‘I love you.’

What didn’t strike you was that Lee Jeno was a romantic. A romantic that he would never take credit for. You knew he wouldn’t, but he still woke you up to warm baths and feathered kisses, and he took you outside without his father’s permission to let you view the pretty gardens that were always locked to public view. He kissed you under the covers, and in front of his older brother. He did what he wanted, because he loved you, and he didn’t have to hide it any longer.

Donghyuck had recovered by early September, though having been warned caution by the doctor, Jeno still hadn’t allowed you near him. He had insisted that no, he didn’t have the same liking towards you that he might’ve had before, but he didn’t want to take any chances and put you in danger. You and your unborn child, as well.

But you visited Donghyuck in his room on a crisp afternoon later that month, having avoided Jeno as he had gone on an outing with Mark. It was funny, you thought, seeing him so unflirty and polite from the way that contrasted when he had his episodes before. He had even cried seeing your baby bump, and you could’ve sworn that was the cutest reaction you had gotten from anyone about your child. He was so different, but this was the Donghyuck that Jeno had told you was real, unlike the one that possessed him into taking another name.

Jeno had yelled at you after he came back, having known that you had left that room. And you, well, you yelled back. He had said that you shouldn’t have left. And you had said that he couldn’t stop you. It was heated, and at the end, you had realized: it was your first ever fight. And it was about Donghyuck.

You learned that night that Donghyuck was his half-brother, born from the same father but a different mother. It had been rumored, apparently, that his mother was a Park, at least that was what Jeno had told you. It almost made you laugh, thinking about that, because that man did have qualities that would stick him as a Park. He felt guilt, something apparently, that Lees didn’t feel. Well, it had been just a rumor anyway.

The next day you had awoken to Jeno pulling a bullet out of his arm in the lavish bathroom, and he had to lull you back to sleep with the promise that he was okay. You had learned later that he had gone out on a mission, and had failed to retrieve the said item that was needed, and his father had taken it out on him by shooting a metal ball into his skin. It wasn’t a bullet, per say, and it wasn’t nearly as painful, but it still caused an infection that made you want to barge up to that man and kill him right then and there.

Mark had told you that day that his father always had—unusual punishments when things didn’t go his way, though it seemed more like cruel to you. You hadn’t understood why your husband’s father treated his children as if they weren’t even his children, but a pack of dogs at his bidding to do whatever he wanted with them. It was disgusting.

In mid-October, that was when you realized that Jeno was infatuated with your voice. He had been concentrating on the move of your lips and the sounds falling from them so much that his listening wasn’t even listening, he had just been admiring your voice like it was something beautiful on its own. Even when you had gotten slightly frustrated with him constantly zoning out on your lips, he had just given you that cute eye-smile and kissed you, telling you that you’re gorgeous. That you’re gorgeous, and he loves you.

Jeno was—beautiful in his own sense, with a sense of absolute love and adoration for you that you noticed had grown so unbearable over time that you knew—the two of you couldn’t see a life without each other. You even laughed on that day he told you that, remembering back when the two of you were constantly at each other’s throats for almost zero to no reason. Now? You couldn’t even imagine what your life would’ve been if you weren’t forced to marry him.

Though at the same time, you could. You would’ve been living the same life as you always were, throwing blades and killing for victory. You would’ve been spending time with your younger brother the way you did before, training him and advising him about everything and nothing he needed to know. As much as you had grown to love Jeno, you didn’t think that anything to take over the meaning of Jisung in your life, and it made you tired to think that you couldn’t see him every day as you wished. But Jeno made it happen.

Jeno made—almost everything you wanted—happen. He treated you like a princess, not even, a queen like he sometimes said. He had never wanted to see you upset when you were with him, and if you did, there was always his constant strive to make you smile again. Even if it wasn’t easy. He had snuck Jisung out of the Park mansion on a Saturday night in November, and had woken you up to a brother you hadn’t seen in months.

And over all that time that you had gotten to know and fall for the man that you were formally married to, you had thought back to the day of your wedding and remembered how reluctant you were to marry him. Even back then, you were so weary of how Jeno had managed to make you feel in the time that he had saved you from your abductors, and you didn’t want to feel so weak around a man that had always seemed strong. You didn’t want to let him know that you were already falling for him, because you thought he was so different, but he—really wasn’t.

It had been seven months since you and Jeno had gotten married, and in another two months, you would be welcoming your baby daughter into the world. You had never imagined your life to take such a huge turn when you had entered the Lee palace all that time ago, with only the determination to find the people that had taken their liking for you, but...it had. Jeno hadn’t imagined it either, most definitely not when he found out he was marrying a Park, but he knew that his past self would scold him now if he knew that he was in love with a Park—and married to one too.

But that was where life had taken you, and you could only really hope for a increasingly better future. Both for you, and your husband. It might’ve been forbidden at first, maybe even so inconvenient, but you weren’t about to let it stop you. You would continue to throw knives at a flimsy dart, and you would continue to spar like the high ranked fighter you were. The two of you had made it work, with the best interest in mind as you started, and it had ended up with emotions much stronger than that.

Maybe, just maybe, life wasn’t such a burden all the time.

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i hope that cleared some things up!! and once again, thank you soo much for supporting my first real series on this blog. i hope you guys enjoyed the outcome of the story, and i gotta say that it took some twists that even i didn’t expect (haha), but here we are at the end! thank you!! ♡

[kyberphilosopher]

Tʜᴇ Nᴇᴘᴇɴᴛʜᴇ

part ii of ‘the Caim’. 

word count: 4790

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.  Nepenthe... (n.) one that brings a pleasurable sense of forgetfulness, or the erasing of an unwanted memory.

It felt better than last time, at least. 

No, it wasn’t perfect. Nothing was ever perfect when it came to wartime- least of all emotional well-beings. But you had once been at the lowest of all points, and now you could say otherwise. Now, at least, your emotional state was better than others. Better than comrades, friends, and those who you dearly missed without even being allowed to. 

You had known it was a silly thing to do from the very beginning. For one, it was against the code you had sworn to uphold and heed. You knew the Jedi would never have approved of what you allowed to take place, but the sincerity of it all had admittedly clouded your judgement. Secondly, it was simply ridiculous enough of you for encouraging it to begin with. It was even more ridiculous to continue to cling onto what had happened, all within the confines of a slim, onyx box. 

The parchments were fragile from time, but protected from how well you’d treated them. You’d been sure not to crinkle the pieces anymore than you’d needed to. Even taken extra care in not smearing the ink when your thumbs were rubbing over top of it. With a rather unrealistic fear of the papers turning to dust at the very mention of the air, you rarely took them out to see with your own eyes. 

But what in the wide open galaxy could’ve been so precious, someone would never take them out out of fear of oxygen? 

Treasures from your worst time, of course. From Umbara, when you had been called to fill in for General Kenobi and Skywalker on a month long mission in retaking the shadowy world. It hadn’t taken long for you to lose any notion of spirit to exhaustion. Your body and soul had turned sour with a dull ailment, as if you were dressed in the feeling of dry throat. But, of course, you had been prepared to ride this feeling out until the end of your task. 

And then something had made it far more bearable. First only a little, then a lot. 

No, you were never able to prove it. But you knew. And in return, Rex knew that you knew. Whether he noticed your demeanor and mood or not was irrelevant. What mattered was that the man had taken time out of his rather busy schedule to write you small, but simple, declarations of his admiration for you. It was probably the nicest things anyone had ever done for you, and the Captain had done it purely out of his own golden heart. 

So, that was what you kept in the box. Notes from the man who had touched you deeply, and therefor carried you to the end. 

You hadn’t seen Rex since the second siege of Umbara- the mission you’d been involved with. But that was about five months ago now. You had already returned to your own battalion, returned to your own battles, returned to the people who were already counting on you. You still saw Anakin and Obi-Wan fairly often, even aided the latter in a space battle against Grievous. Other than that, you worked with General Plo Koon in guarding the skies. And all was well.  

You never asked about Rex. Though you desperately wanted to inquire of his health, it would’ve been too off putting for both your colleagues and your own men. After all, nobody knew what had transpired between the two of you. And even then, neither you nor the Captain acknowledged it. So it wasn’t like you had much of a right to any concern for him anyway. You weren’t his lover, or even his friend. You were a superior, and it was not much allowed to act as though there was anything more to it. 

Though as your fingers ghosted over the last slip of paper he had written to you, a certain fondness was hard to deny. 

“ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴡᴇ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ, ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴʏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴍʏ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ, ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ.” How were you just supposed to forget that? Though you supposed that must’ve been the mans intention. He hadn’t wanted you to forget it, even if it was a bit of a distraction to both of your duties.

With a slow exhale from your nose, your thumb strokes the corner of the parchment a final time. Then, you fold the paper back up, stack it up in line with the other pieces, and carefully place them back in the black box. You only have to lean over in your sitting position to place the box under the shelf you call your bed. Once you sit up again, you’re met with the boring gray walls of the inside of a Venator. And without realizing it, the last thing you think of before you lay down for sleep, is how you’d much rather be looking at a certain Captain instead. 

You would get your wish.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*. 

You grip the table in front of you as your ship jolts. Overhead, lights lining the ceilings and walls flash red like sirens. A few of the officers and men around you stumble as well, and you just know a trillion more problems are arising. 

“C’mon Plo...” you urgently hiss under your breath. “Hurry up, please.”

As if on cue, you watch his star-fighter spin outside the bridge window, closely followed by a spray of enemy shots. A low trill from in front of you grabs your attention instead, and you raise your head to meet your fellow Jedi.

“General Y/N?” Anakin inquires importantly. “Are you there?”

Another shake runs through your ship, causing your knuckles to pale from the intensity of holding on. “I’m here,” you answer. “Our forces are overpowered. General Koon won’t be able to hold out for much longer. I suggest we-” another shake of your ship. “I suggest we pull back.”

General Skywalker nods his head firmly, then looks around with darting eyes. “We’re coming out of hyperspace now, General. Whether or not we’ll be in one piece is up for debate, though.”

You raise an eyebrow in question. Your fellow Jedi know your lack of speaking enough to understand that this quirk is encouraging them to explain. “We’ve been... badly damaged. Admiral Yularen is out cold. If we stay on this ship, we’re done for.”

You nod as you get the message. “Understood,” you say, and the hologram disappears. “Open up the hanger and lower rear shields. Prepare for incoming escape pods,” you say to one officer. As he nods his head curtly, you raise your communicator to your lips and turn to the bridge window. “You hear that, Plo?”

“Affirmative,” the Kel Dor answers through blasts. 

“As soon as everyone arrives, I want us in hyperspace,” you say to your Admiral. 

It only took three moments before the giant window you looked out to was painted with blue and white streaks, and then a tunnel of indigo. A slow breath escapes you as anxiety quietly builds inside. Skywalker’s plan went horribly. He’d known the Separatist ships had outgunned you and Plo this time, but he insisted you hold your position. You had attempted to warn him against this, but clearly to no avail. Now you’re down a ship, Yularen, and several men. Not to mention all the shots your own cruiser had taken. 

“Plo,” you say into your communicator, slowly. “Do you read me?”

Silence. 

“Plo?” 

“I’m here.” You exhale in relief at the sound of his voice. “I’ve met General Skywalker in the hanger bay. They have wounded.”

“I’m on my way.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

“General Y/N!” Anakin exclaims. His notorious smirk is creeping against the edge of his lips, and his hands are outstretched to make his words all the bolder. Despite his warm greeting, clones are being carried away in stretchers all around him, and your once clean bay is now streaked with skid marks. 

“I have to say, this is one of your worse landings,” you tell him once you enter earshot. Unlike the man in front of you, you were not one to shout your half of the conversation from across the room. You nod once to General Plo as he passes you by.

“Yeah, well, I improvised.”

Clearly, you think as you watch a Clone remove his helmet and gasp for air. 

“We lost a whole squadron of men,” Anakin continues. “Yularen was injured while we were out flanked. And Obi-Wan...” Anakin sighs and squares his jaw. “Obi-Wan’s gonna kill me.”

What about Rex? You resist the urge to scream. Instead, you say, “I can cover you for this one.”

“No,” the man says quickly. He folds his arms somewhat bitterly, though you know it’s not directed towards you. “No. It’s my mistake.”

You’ve barely opened your mouth before someone else steals your attention again. Behind you, a distorted voice rings clear and true. “General Skywalker,” it calls, and your heart gives a great pound, even though you’ve heard the voice over a thousand times today.

You shift your body so you’re half facing the voice. You watch a trooper in blue marked armor march up to where you and your comrade stand. Helmet scarred with tally marks... Blasters on both hips... The appearance only confirmed what you had already known. 

Coming closer, Rex lifts his hands and removes his helmet from his head, revealing his face. 

Maker, had he always looked like this? Or was this a trick of your brain from a new addiction to him?

Bleached hair cut close to his head, striking features and golden eyes. Angular as ever, but symmetrical nonetheless. You hadn’t really experienced attraction much in your life. The Jedi code kept barred you from it, and you hadn’t much of a desire to really seek it out. But you had spent so much time wondering about the man that when you saw him again, even after all this time, you knew at once that not only was Rex attractive, but you were attracted to him. 

“Ah, Rex,” Skywalker says in turn. “Good to see you’re in one piece. I was just about to mention you to our host here.”

You watch the Clones pupils dilate as he bites the inside of his right cheek. Although you’re feeling the same amount of both excitement and anxiety as he is, his discomfort means more to you. In a quick but meaningful attempt to quell his rather put-on-the-spot feelings, you speak first. 

“Captain,” you say steadily. “I’m glad to see you well.”

What a poor thing to say. Could you truly not have thought of anything better to say to the man?

“How are the men?” Anakin asks from beside you, nearly making you jump. You’d momentarily forgotten where you were, and the fact that other people just so happened to exist. 

Rex dips his head. You can see the weight of stress against his shoulders, and a darkening shadow within his eyes. In the pit of your own stomach, a prick of guilt and empathy sparks. Is this how he had felt seeing you in such a state? Had it truly felt this jarring?

“They’re... heavily injured,” the Captain answers. A thumb rubs against the side of his helmet like a ghost, just over the tally marks. “We’re still counting the casualties.”

“If you’d like to help your men...” Anakin trails off. 

Rex snaps back to attention, his voice as clear and strong as any soldier. “I would. Will you be alright without me?”

“Rex,” Anakin assures with a lighthearted smile. “We’ll be fine. I’ll contact you if we need anything.”

Rex is sure not to make eye contact with you again as he goes. He silently questions Skywalker a few seconds longer with his large, amber eyes. Then he puts his helmet back over his face, turns around in uniform fashion, and heads to assist Kix in the corner. 

You knew how dedicated of a man he was before. He had his conflict, but he always put it aside for the greater good of those around him, meaning he was selfless as well. Rex remained hardworking and level headed, which didn’t surprise you much, but still. He impressed you with how he walked and talked and treated other people, you being one of them. Focused, diligent... there was so many things you could say about him. All of them flattering. Instead, you muttered:

“He always was a good man.”

“Well he hasn’t changed much since you saw him,” Skywalker elaborates. “I was hoping to promote him to Commander this year, but I doubt it will happen now.”

Your eyebrows furrow slightly as you turn back to your fellow Jedi. It’s a silent question of ‘why? what makes you say that?’.

Anakin takes a small step forward, which allows you to inhale his scent. It’s an intimate act, though not in a sexual nor romantic way. It’s an intimate act of secrecy, and you’re sure to give him your full attention in the coming moments. 

“Rex tends to... self deprecate.”

Your first instinct is to be somewhat offended on the clone Captain’s behalf. But your mind is quick to quiet this instinct, giving way to the logical answer. 

Skywalker isn’t wrong. Though his phrasing may not be the most accurate, it gets the point across. Rex does self deprecate. He shares the loss with everyone as if it were his own. As if he were responsible for the failure or wrongdoing whether he really was or not. And, sadly, most of the time he’s not. But he’ll never see it that way. 

The Captain considered all the men lost on this mission his fault. Anakin could offer Rex the position of Commander all he wants, but the clone would never accept after a mission like this. 

You turn back towards his direction. Rex crouches down next to his medic friend, occasionally nodding his head solemnly. Even now, in a state that tugs on the edges of your heart, he looks pretty. 

“How long do you expect to stay?” you ask with focused eyes. 

“I don’t know,” the Skywalker says with a sigh. “But you don’t mind if my men stay here while me and Obi-Wan do some recon, right?”

“No,” you answer slowly, the idea solidifying as you watch the Clone push himself to his feet. “Stay as long as you need.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

You wrote it out carefully. The grip around the pen was tight and secure, and the letters that bled from it were tiny and neat. In an age where holopads ruled the galaxy, you’d almost forgotten what your handwriting was like. It was nice to remember. 

Writing was simple. It was more peaceful than holding a lightsaber, and you didn’t destroy anything through your hands movements. When the letters appeared at your will, you could imagine a life where they did this all the time. A life on the countryside maybe, or the beach. You’d heard Scarif was beautiful often. Maybe there?

The feeling of sullen peace doesn’t last long. As soon as you finish your statement, you’re back to being a Jedi knight. It saddens you in it’s own way, but you tell yourself it’s for the best, as you usually did. Then, you read your gift over in your head.

ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴍᴀɴ.

It didn’t seem like it was enough, so you flipped the parchment over to the other side and wrote more. 

ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙʟᴀᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ.

And you meant what you had written, too. Rex, like any other Clone, didn’t deserve the guilt that war brought. He didn’t deserve the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders, but he had to bear it anyway. Maybe your little words with alleviate some of it for him, just as it had for you. 

I slip the paper between the folds of your robes. At nightfall, you creep into the darkness, a messenger of your own terms. 

You knew that Rex had received and read your offering. The moment yours eyes met, it was done for. 

You weren’t going to act out. Your face didn’t change in the slightest. Rex’s, however, has shifted his eyes into a widened state, and his lips are parted as he realizes what you have done. Whatever doubts he had about it were now quelled, for at first he had assumed it was a simply a kind soldier. 

Instead it was you, the Jedi he had thought about every day since first sight. 

Slowly, you raise your breakfast bread to your lips. Your teeth break through the little cloud of dough, savoring the dry taste. Rex seems to be paralyzed on the other side of the room. He doesn’t even seem to recognize that he’s in public, in a sea of clones and officers who would be able to read the look on his face if they squint enough. 

You hold the man’s stare for a few seconds longer. Then you turn away, just in time to catch Plo and Anakin approaching you. 

“General,” Anakin greets. You bow your head in recognition. 

“We received a transmission from General Kenobi and Windu this morning,” Plo booms. “They’re on their way to support us best they can, but they estimate they won’t be here for the next three days.”

Three days. You have three days to calm Rex’s nerves. 

You swallow down your bite of bread before you respond. “Any news of the enemy?”

“None so far.”

“We should send out scouts in all directions,” Anakin steps forward. “We have to locate Grievous before he escapes again.”

“He could’ve already jumped into hyperspace by now,” you urge. “Unlike him, we may not have that fuel. Not until Obi-Wan gets here.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Rex found the second note that evening. 

He’d already struggled to push the first from his mind, but now his head felt like it was filling with clouds. What should he have focused on? Your lingering scent on the cards? The cleanliness of your handwriting? The fact that it was from you? For him? Maker, he hadn’t even said thirty sentences to you, and he was already drunk with love. 

Not infatuation. Not lust. Love. 

With a shaky hand, the soldier purses his lips. He bends over in his blue painted armor. He feels the paper against the fingertips of his gloves. At once, he feels you too. He can’t turn it over fast enough. 

ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ, ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ. ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ʜᴏɴᴇꜱᴛʟʏ- ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴀʟʀɪɢʜᴛ? ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ.

Rex’s throat dries fast. The light in his ambers eyes resembles the embers of a fire, alive and awake with the spark of a promise. But the man knows there may be more, and he turns the parchment to the other side, nearly giving himself a paper slice. 

ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴅᴏ, ʀᴇx.

It’s you. This confirms it. 

You’ve addressed him by name now. You’ve made it solid with the motion of your wrist and the ink of a pen. So how does Rex respond? Confront you directly? No. You’re his superior. Rex isn’t even fully sure he’d have the courage to do that yet. Lead his men into battle? Any day, no problem. Speak to you, with your piercing eyes and your analytical mind? His tongue would tie itself before he’d be able to get any words out. 

Should he write a letter in return? That’s not how this works. Rex remembers he’s out of paper at the moment anyway. He can’t talk to Anakin about it without getting you in trouble. Confiding in his brothers would’ve only led to frustration, lame advice, and court marshals. That’s not an option. 

The only other path is simple: no confrontation at all. Rex rides out the wave of your words until you split paths again. You disappear to do whatever it is Jedi do, and the Captain is forced back into having to find ways to inquire about your wellbeing to Anakin without seeming unnatural. 

But that doesn’t totally seem like an option either. 

Unknown to the man, you sit on security cameras. You watch as he stands outside the doorway of his barracks, clutching the note close to his chest, before you head to your sleep. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Rex is happier the next morning. 

His broad chest is puffed out further than before. It’s not noticeable for most people, but it’s noticeable for anyone who’s memorized the walk and posture of their lover. The same goes for the corners of his lips, which aren’t as dragged downwards as usual. His eyes are bright from a well rest. 

He is physically healthy. You can only hope his head is beginning to follow suit. 

You write him one note, which is read before lunch time. A simple:

ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴍɪʟᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ ɢʟᴏᴡ.

Which you could swear resulted in softer expressions on his part throughout the day. No smiles. The atmosphere was too grim and crowded for a full, cheery curve. It’s a bit of a shame, because you meant your words. The thought alone of Rex grinning in sheer joy is enough to make you want to grin too. Still, you understand. Disappointment and understanding tend to go well together. 

After overseeing some construction, you receive a cut along your palm. It is sharp and deep, and the crimson blood seeps into the crevices of your fingers. Despite the stinging, you offer little outside reaction. You are quick to carry yourself to the infirmary. 

Rex leaves the infirmary at the same time. 

You tell yourself you won’t turn to look at him. But then you hear him speak “General, are you alright?” and you abandon your internal swear. 

The promise of seeing his face is too tempting. You turn smoothly, meeting his eyes. “Yes,” you tell him, as if nothing ever existed between the two of you. “I’m alright.” Then your brows crease together. “Are you?”

Rex takes a split second to respond. He is distracted, trapped in his own thoughts thanks to you. “Oh- yes, General. I was just, ah, visiting Jesse. Some friends of mine were injured in the crash, sir.”

Your gaze softens considerably. Your next lines come out without thinking, but they flow as freely as a stream regardless. “You always were a kind man.”

Which isn’t a bad thing to say to anyone, by any means. But in relation to you and him, it feels like a big step. The words sound like something that should’ve been kept in between the folds of paper, and left by the side of a door. 

Both Rex and yourself tense up at the exact same time. Eyes widen, shoulders square. 

But Rex is true to his nature. “And you always had quite the way with words, General,” he says. The end of his sentence is capped with a clipped up smirk, and a charismatic glint in his eyes that is too raw to be untruthful. 

So the Captain finds another letter addressed to him that day, right before bed. 

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴄᴀʀɪɴɢ.

And on the other side, 

ɪ'ᴅ ɢɪᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀʟᴀxʏ.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

And then it’s the last day that you’ll be together. The day you’d been dreading. The day you’d been putting off. 

You hadn’t meant to get so attached. It goes against your training, your code, everything you’ve sacrificed yourself for. But you’re too far in now. You are absolutely star struck, invested, and trapped in a rabbit hole created by Rex himself. Not that you blame him. You’re glad for it. You could be happy like this. 

You don’t want to lose him. Therefore, a line of thinking pops into your intelligent little brain. It wouldn’t solve all the problems. In fact, it would probably create more. But it would be binding. It would be official. You could escape. 

You wanted to. You wanted to go forward with your line of thinking. But Maker, it was a leap. Would it be worth it?

Yes. If you had to answer now, the answer would be yes. 

An entire section of your brain was dedicated to mulling it over the entirety of the day. Even as you commanded your troops, signaling and training and clutching the end of the holotable with your bandaged fingers, about seventeen percent of your brain power was stuck on the future. 

The answer was reached at the very last moment. 

As Obi-Wan emerged from hyperspace, along with several fighters, your mind went blank. And then the blankness washed away, and all you could feel was the simplicity of a crackling fire, the waves on a beach, and the promise of safety. You imagine yourself writing every day with pen and paper, creating whimsical works for yourself and your lover. There is nothing but peace. No war, nor responsibilities. Only the beach, the parchment, and Rex. 

Rex. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Your lover already received what he had assumed would be the last letter from you. He’d seen it in the morning. It was simple and sweet, and while it didn’t do much to soothe himself from the thought of parting from you, it had made him feel warm inside. 

ɪ ᴡɪꜱʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇꜱᴛ. ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ'ᴠᴇ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ, ꜱᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

So you can imagine the way his dark eyebrows knit together at the sight of another. 

Perhaps it was an accident. The Captain had been returning to his quarters to gather whatever belongings he’d left inside before transferring over to Obi-Wan’s cruiser with General Skywalker. No. That was a ridiculous thing to think. You were simply immune to making mistakes. 

Rex bends over. Again, his black gloved hand stretches out and clasps the parchment up. He is always careful with it, as to not crinkle the memories and sentiment wrapped within. Like you, he is sure to keep everything you send to him in either a box or an envelope for future reference. 

Your last note is not a statement. It is not a compliment to be taken at face value. It is a question, a proposal. It is a leap of faith. 

You got your answer the next morning. Before loading himself onto the transport, your Captain is sure to meet your eyes. You step forward with one foot, searching for any signs. And for the first few seconds you are concerned that he has answered with a simple ‘no’, but then you realize that he is simply teasing. Something you’d have to get used to, it seems. 

Rex gives you a smile. A soft one, but a sincere one. His right hand reaches up, and pats against his armor, right over his heart. He does this one, two, three times, before slipping his handsome face inside his helmet, and disappearing behind the visor. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

You are married on Obi-Wan’s cruiser. General Koon sends you over the next day to obtain information in person instead of holograms for fear of bugs and spies. And, yes, you were true to your mission. 

But where no one could see you, you met Rex in a humid hallway. The lights were dimmed and near glowing red, but the area was totally cleared out. Neither clone, nor Jedi disturbed the lovers, whose shadows were looking into each others eyes.

Rex has your hands in his. They are rough, and a reminder of how you observed them and thought he had stood out at first sight. He still has the scar on his palm, though this time you have your own to match it. This time, you also match in terms of jewelry, for both of your left ring fingers are tethered by simple, silver bands. 

The kiss that sealed the idea was chaste at first. You hadn’t known what to do, though it hadn’t taken you long to through that thought to the wind. Kissing Rex felt good, even if you had nothing to compare it to. It was the kiss you had been waiting for, and the tongue prodding at your lips had only confirmed your suspicions that Rex was an adventurous man. 

And so, in the hallway where the lovers met, all was well. 

At least until Order Sixty-Six came. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

finally. 

might edit though, but i always say i’ll do that and then don’t. 

Taglist: @omg-we-really-doo​ @chokemeanakin​ @anakinswhore​ @haztory​ @fanficsforheartandsoul​ @kit-jpg​

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

Domestic fluff, with mechanic, silver fox, soft Tony married to professor Peter. Throw in any other trope we're both obsessed with lol

The Way You Hold Me 

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature Notes: Holy. It has been a hot minute since I’ve put fingers to keyboard. I’m so stoked that S’s prompt is the one to pull me out of my slump. I’m a sucker for silver fox Tony & finally couldn’t resist. This is pure, tooth-rotting fluff, so I hope you’re up for some sweetness! Word Count: ~5K Warnings: There’s a bit of smexy in there, but it’s not that detailed. The rest is just indulgence of the love-dovey kind. 

Read on AO3 here

To say that Tony was hooked from the very start would’ve been a huge understatement.

Despite never laying eyes on Professor Peter Parker, Tony found himself completely overwhelmed with that obsessive sort of feeling he got when things sparked his interest. The words in their email exchanges were more than enough to draw him in – he could openly admit that strong character and a whip smart brain totally got him going. If his witty words and bright ideas weren’t enough, a quick Google search put the final nail in the coffin. Big brains and immense beauty – who was he to deny the attractiveness in that situation?

When the opportunity presented itself, Tony navigated his way around NYU’s campus, practically jumping on the chance to finally meet the notorious Professor Parker in person. He made his way leisurely through throngs of students until he found the not so surprisingly crowded lecture hall. If professors were as attractive as Professor Parker during his school days, he might’ve paid a bit more attention. Unlike most classes, each student seemed to be completely entranced by the information – or the man at the front of the room presenting it.

Tony rarely got the chance to observe someone else while working – most people that knew about his shop knew about his impeccable brains and talent; which meant a lot of the spectating happened while he worked. Flipping the norm on its head proved to be incredibly delightful – Peter Parker could hold the entire room’s attention without even trying. And man did he know his shit! He spoke about mechanics and fluid dynamics like they were extended pieces of himself, not convoluted theories riddled with mathematical explanations. If he weren’t already taking giant leaps towards infatuation, the time spent watching the professor lecture surely would send him spiraling in that direction.

For a brief instant toward the end of his lecture, Tony caught Professor Parker looking at him. Their eyes met and held for what felt like eons, the other man’s cocoa colored irises were stunning and seemed to become more so the longer Tony looked. A moment of recognition flashed in those deep eyes before he turned back to the class and continued to talk about fluid pumps like nothing happened.

By the end of the lecture, Tony knew a couple of things with absolute certainty – Peter Parker was the most gorgeous person (in every single way) on the planet, and he would do absolutely anything necessary to find a place for him in his life. Though he was getting ahead of himself, Tony could feel the rightness of the situation down to his very core – there weren’t many people who could spark a reaction in him, let alone one that moved him to action. He forced himself to calm down as a flood of students started to pile out of the room, each one looking at him with a mix of suspicion and appreciation – he forewent the hat that morning, so his longer salt and pepper hair stood proudly on display. Even he knew the appeal of that silver fox look.

A soft throat clearing brought Tony back from his contemplative state – he blinked a few times to orient himself before turning towards the noise.

Bright eyes on him had him once again stopping in his tracks; Peter Parker the man looked totally different than the lecturer standing in front of him only moments before. The owlish, almost nerdy look was replaced with a soft smirk and clear, knowing eyes. “Tony Stark, as I live and breathe. I would’ve happily met you at my office.” Peter didn’t seem to blink as he spoke, those eyes following every one of Tony’s minuet movements.

Tony knew in that instant – he wasn’t the only genius predator in that room.

Running a hand through long strands, Tony shifted his feet just enough to lean against one of the chairs closest to him. “I thought I’d catch you in your natural habitat. Even I know professors are never in their offices,” Tony remarked, his words light and just the slightest bit flirty. “Seeing you in action is much more informative than any meeting in your office would’ve been, anyway.”

Peter’s answer came in the form of a face splitting smile, the whites of his teeth showing through the stretch of soft lips. “You’re an actions speak louder than words guy – I like that.”

Grinning, Tony closed the distance between them, his feet carrying him in a manner that he never experienced before. It was as if the inches that separated them were causing physical pain, like if he didn’t get within touching distance that instant, Tony might actually combust. Now toe to toe, Tony stuck his hand out to shake, a daring look on his face. “Actions are the only thing that count in this muddled world, Professor Parker.”

And just like that, a bond developed between them. Aside from working on the research they cultivated over the past few months, Tony found himself seeking Peter’s company out as much as possible. For a little while, he made up lame work-related excuses – Peter was insanely dedicated to their joint academic pursuits and gladly came whenever Tony posed a question. As time trickled on, the questions and requests became increasingly less academic and much more personal. Instead of meeting at the campus library, Tony brought Peter to the big office he kept in the shop or the sanctuary of his kitchen. Slowly but surely, topics moved from engine parts to hobbies and ambitions. Much like the rebuild of a classic car, their steps towards something else were filled with anticipation and an overall feeling of contentment.

Instead of infatuation, Tony started to recognize the floaty feeling as love – the active process of falling into it much less frightening than he initially figured. Despite what the forty-nine-year-old knew about his previous “loves”, Tony found himself learning something new about the topic on a daily basis. Never before did he find someone’s coffee making ritual as endearing as the repetitional process that Peter went through. For the first time in his life, Tony understood what it meant to love every part of a person, not just a few individual pieces that made up the whole.

When they finally took the step towards realizing their love for each other, Tony jumped in headfirst. Being the ridiculously professional academic that he was, Peter didn’t want to mix any sort of business with pleasure, so they waited what felt like several long months to even think about anything other than friendship. Throughout those months, Tony wore out fantasy after delicious fantasy about what having Peter next to him would be like – how his ink-stained hands would feel on bare skin, how plush lips would press against his own. In all the ways, Tony tried to picture Peter as his.

Yet, nothing he pictured even came close.

The first time Peter kissed him, Tony was utterly unprepared for it. Upon their article being published, Tony and Peter planned to celebrate with a home cooked meal in Tony’s surprisingly well stocked kitchen. Throughout their time together, cooking dinner and hanging around the kitchen’s island with a glass of wine in hand became second nature to them – the whole ritual like a deep breath of fresh air after the long days both men waded through on a constant basis. Yet, this time, Tony could feel a crackle in the air – whether it was wishful thinking or fact, he wasn’t quite sure.

As they moved around each other seamlessly, Tony felt himself relaxing in a way that only happened when Peter was around. Instead of anxiety and a never-ending slew of thoughts, a clear head and empty spaces opened up around him. The comfort in Peter’s presence lulled him into a state that, until meeting the man, Tony didn’t know he could achieve. Which is why he was thrown off guard when a firm hand wrapped around his upper arm. Setting down the knife he’d been masterfully chopping vegetables with, he turned his body in Peter’s direction, the touch on his bare skin producing a sensation that sent tingles down to the very tips of his toes.

“What’s up – “ Tony started to say before the softest lips were pressing against his own. Whatever question he wanted to ask flew from his mind, the pressure of warmth and the delicate feeling of getting what he wanted, finally, overtook him. Leaning into the kiss, Tony tilted his head and returned it to the best of his ability – chances like this didn’t come by often and he sure as hell wasn’t one to let them pass him by. His own hand moved restlessly until it found the curve of Peter’s hip; the fingers there dug into jean and fabric and the slightest hint of what could only be warm, smooth skin.

Though it felt like just a second, Tony’s chest was heaving when they finally pulled away from each other. Without much thought, he renewed the grip on Peter’s hip and brought him back in for another kiss, the pressing issue of a lack of oxygen not even registering. Behind closed eyelids, he only saw, felt, and wanted the divine press of lip against lip – if he could live in this singular moment, all would be right in the world.

It was Peter who finally broke away, the redness in his cheeks sending a rush of some unnamed feeling down the length of Tony’s limbs. It felt electric, like shockwaves traveling across the surface of his skin. Sucking in a breath, Tony forced himself to look up and take in the melted chocolate of Peter’s stunning eyes. The black of his pupil practically overran the rich, dark brown, yet the color stood out even more because of that. The compulsion to reach out and touch Peter’s face rushed through him – the thought of more of that warm skin under his hands completely entrancing. Instead, he dug his fingers further into Peter’s hip, the bottom of his shirt riding up with ever clenching gesture.

“I’ve wanted to do that for months. Months, Tony,” Peter mumbled, his words still colored by the slightest pant of breath. The touch of his hand shifted up his arm, those long fingers settling on the naked skin on the back of Tony’s neck like they belonged there (they did). Slight callouses on the palm of Peter’s hand reminded him of the depth of the professor’s knowledge and experience – the roughness there spoke of words written with restless hands and technical brilliance brought about by steady, knowledgeable limbs. Unable to resist, Tony leaned into the touch, his entire being tuned in to the warm caress.

Leaning forward slightly, Tony brushed the tip of his nose against Peter’s, a soft sigh leaving his lips. So many times, he thought about this very moment and the reality of it couldn’t possibly be predicted – everything about Peter seemed like a surprise; every second they spent together another adventure, another excitement added to the list of things to LOVE about Professor Parker. The answering gasp of air against his lips had Tony pressing forward again, their lips meeting in a barely there caress.

“Now you don’t ever have to stop,” Tony finally managed to drag his lips away from Peter’s to mumble. “In fact – I hope you don’t. I really, really, really hope.”

Luckily, Peter hadn’t planned to. For weeks after that night, they flirted through shared time in the kitchen, and teased each other throughout tv show binges and candlelit dinners. No matter what they did, Tony ended the night with a writhing Peter Parker on his lap. With every second spent together, Tony tried to absorb everything he could about the man – how his hands felt gripping around his neck, the way his thighs flexed and clenched with the subtle roll of his hips – hell, even the way the taste in his mouth changed when things went from gentle and tame to overtly arousing. Many times, he wished he were a better writer – the ache Tony felt to document his findings was entirely too overwhelming.

Little by little, they crept towards what could only be considered to be something serious. There was no longer the pretense of academic pursuits to stop them from stepping out into the New York night life together – their dates took on a whole new nature when Tony realized just how well Professor Parker could clean up. It only took one night of Peter’s well-tailored ass dancing against him to know that demanding outings exactly like that one was absolutely necessary for his survival – and ever growing libido

Said libido spent a long time in self-induced isolation and took the magic of Peter Parker to reignite whatever passion seemed to be lacking earlier in his life. Up until the supple curves of his favorite professor sat in the palms of his hands, Tony struggled with the ease of intimacy – his brain ran a mile a minute and couldn’t often slow down enough to thoroughly enjoy the greatness of human contact. Yet, when Peter held him, touched him – something happened; the rest of the world sort of faded away, everything narrowed down to the lightest stroke and talented caress.

And despite the wild flame that seared between them, it still took four months of heavy petting and sleepovers on the couch after too much making out to finally fall into bed together. Tony knew – with every piece of himself – that the second he gave himself to Peter, there was no going back. Whatever addiction he willingly cultivated during their time together teetered on a precarious edge between not enough and too much. Physical intimacy would smash that cliff in half, leaving Tony with an inability to separate himself from the overwhelming feelings Peter made him feel.

Yet, when the moment finally came, every second of it felt righter than Tony thought possible. They didn’t tumble into the room in a tattered state of “can’t wait” and “right now”. Instead, Tony slowly unwrapped the present that a jean-clad Peter Parker presented. His lips mapped the route from a delightfully long neck to cut shoulders, then down from nipple to nipple, and lower – the soft hair leading down to lean hips and a gorgeous cock got more attention than either of them anticipated.

Between the dizzy effect of Peter’s moans and the effort to remember each of Peter’s moans, Tony almost forgot how he found himself two fingers deep in the tightest ass he could recall feeling. His cock, which brushed teasingly against Peter’s thigh, twitched with anticipation with every thrust – the tight clench around them was going to feel spectacular around his incredibly touch starved dick.

Clearing his mind of the more heady thoughts, Tony worked a third finger into Peter’s tight heat – the ability to control himself was slowly crumbling, each second that passed felt like one too many – the need to satiate his overwhelming craving hit him in the chest from one touch to the next.

Long fingers gripped his forearm, forcing his attention away from the pulse and stretch of the warm tightness around him. Tony looked up, his eyes seeking Peter’s without thought.

“I’m ready, Tony. I need you to fuck me. I can’t wait – don’t make me.” Peter’s grip tightened as each word slipped from his lips.

Sucking in much needed air, Tony moved until he could comply – his entire body thrummed with anticipation, his ability to wait seemed to fly out the window in that moment, too. He shifted to pull the bedside table drawer open, but he was stopped again by the hand still clutching his forearm.

“Just you, Tony.”

They locked eyes again, a silent conversation happening between them before Tony nodded, the outstretched hand finding Peter’s hip, instead. With the other, he uncapped the lube and poured a good amount straight on his heat-flushed cock, the cold of it pulling a pulse from him, a small bead of precum forming at the tip. Tony forced himself to take in a deep breath, the touch of his hand as he spread the sticky substance over sensitive skin reminding him how close he actually was. It wouldn’t do to finally be getting what he wanted and not last – he wanted, craved, desired the best of the best for Peter – with him, even.

Another quick shift had him pinning Peter on the bed below him, the forearm of his right arm pressed tightly against Peter’s shoulder – there wasn’t any space between them. When he finally pushed in, Tony let out a noise he never heard before – especially from himself. The moan radiated around the room, wrapping both him and Peter up in the delicacy of pure pleasure and steady connection. “Fuck, Pete – “ Tony couldn’t help but babble, his entire core clenching as he finally, finally bottomed out.

For all the time spent anticipating, Tony didn’t have any sort of word or feeling to describe what being connected to Peter was like. His strong thighs wrapped tightly around Tony’s waist, the muscles squeezing with every thrust – almost like he dreaded the slide out just as much as Tony. The tip of his cock nailed Peter’s prostate with every cleverly angled shift of his hips, the feeling on both ends bringing a new sense of bliss to the situation.

Though he tried to keep his shit together, Tony felt the coil in his stomach spin up uncontrollably, the inevitable end racing towards him without any of his permission. Picking up his pace, Tony untangled their joint limbs just enough to slip his hand between them, his work roughened fingers wrapped tightly around Peter’s cock to time his tight strokes with the movement of his hips.

The wet feeling of Peter’s release splashing against his fingers pulled Tony over the edge, the loud breaths and drawn out moans of the other’s orgasm a tantalizing soundtrack to his overwhelming peak.

He couldn’t remember losing the ability to hold himself up, but moments later, he resurfaced to find his chest pressed tightly against Peter’s with sweaty fingers brushing through his long, graying locks.

“Wow.” Tony whispered after a while, his nose finding its way to the crook of Peter’s neck. He pressed soft kisses and took in long, deep breaths – Peter’s normal scent was something more now, the undertones of it carrying the slightest hint of the cinnamon Tony himself carried around. A slow smile pulled across his lips at the thought – they were both forever changed now, each one another integral piece of the other.

Instead of answering, Peter tightened his grip around Tony, his soft lips pressing kiss after kiss against skin still slicked with sweat.

A while later, they tumbled out of bed and cleaned up in the shower, both men unwilling to put more space between them than necessary after such a powerful experience. Tony reveled in his ability to touch and caress as he washed hot water warmed skin, and then later when Peter crawled into his arms and settled against his chest under the plushness of soft sheets. He let the contentment of it carry him to the cusp of sleep.

Right before he let his eyes close, Tony felt a kiss pressed to the side of his neck and Peter moving impossibly closer. “I love you, Tony,” Peter mumbled against his skin, the sleepiness in his voice making the words sound so fucking special.

Blinking, Tony tightened his hold, his fingers running in smooth patterns up and then back down the length of Peter’s back. “I love you, too. So much.”

----

Eight months later, Tony found himself right back where things started; his eyes took in the entirety of the lecture hall with fond affection. He got to campus a little earlier than usual, his excitement at getting to see Peter too much for him to handle back at the shop. Instead of fretting in the car, he stretched his long legs in a walk across campus. By instinct, or maybe nostalgic intervention, Tony got to Peter’s building without thought – he shook his head at himself, but walked through the doors, anyway. Sucking in the familiar smell that Peter brought back to the apartment every day, Tony kept walking until he was able to take a seat at the back of the overfull amphitheater.

Despite not making any noise as he walked in, Peter glanced up at him, the softest smile slipping across his lips as their eyes connected. A warm feeling sat in the bottom of his stomach – the all too familiar burn of love flaring up inside him at the look.

Never missing a beat, Peter continued through the last part of his lecture like Tony wasn’t even there. Bright whiskey colored eyes watched with fascination, the smile on his face growing with each passing minute. For a long time, Tony’s own intelligence made him feel like a social outcast – there weren’t too many of his peers that could even come close to his level of understanding. Peter, though – his brain worked in a way that Tony not only found interesting, but also wanted to know and explore in the same way he did his own. The rare treat of getting to see it in work made his heart slam in his chest – Peter was damn sexy when flawlessly controlling the classroom.

Unlike most of the students around him, Tony let out the slightest sigh of disappointment at the end of Peter’s presentation – he would’ve gladly skipped their dinner plans to hear Peter wax poetic about diesel; despite the oddity of it, Tony found Peter’s display of knowledge distractingly intriguing.

Tony went against the flow of students leaving the lecture hall to get to his boyfriend at the front of the room, a happy smile on his face as he did. When close enough to reach out and touch, Tony grabbed Peter’s hand, using his leverage to pull him into his arms. Planting a fleeting kiss on soft lips, Tony held Peter tightly to him, his eyes closing from the sensation. He would’ve gotten lost in it if it weren’t for a soft chorus of ‘awes’ that sounded from the back of the room.

“Ms. Pesto, class is over.” Peter leaned back into Tony’s hands on his back to speak to the culprit, a smirk pulling across his face. “Shut the door behind you when you go.”

Grinning, Tony leaned in to press a longer, more intense kiss on already swollen lips. “Have I ever told you how sexy you are when you’re teaching?” The question was broken up by soft kisses to Peter’s lips, cheek, and chin.

Peter shook his head in answer, a slight giggle falling from his lips. “You neglected to share that interesting piece of information.” Then, “what’s your favorite part? The way my brain works, or how good I look in these pants?”

Tony let his hands run more firmly over Peter’s ass at the comment, his pupils dilating with a sudden rush of arousal. “Most definitely all of the above,” Tony whispered, his fingers digging into the meat of a delightfully thick glute. “You’re my favorite part.”

There weren’t any more words shared between them for a few minutes, the solid weight and press of lip against lip the only thing existing in those moments. Peter forced them apart when the door opened again and a colleague started to descend the stairs. Reading the room, Tony forced himself to calm down and grabbed Peter’s bag from the desk, shouldering it before reaching out to grab Peter’s hand.

Throughout the rest of the night, Tony couldn’t stop the thoughts of how right and perfect things were – Peter drove him crazy with want, but even more importantly, love and adoring affection. For the first time in his entire life, Tony understood what it was like looking at the rest of forever. Popping the question entered his mind a few months ago, just the idea of it made him absolutely weak at the knees. Though he hadn’t given much thought to marriage before, Tony could picture it clearly with Peter – they already did so much give and take with each other, the next step just made sense.

He started to seriously think about it a couple of weeks later when Happy, one of his senior mechanics, brought up a jeweler he frequently bought things from for his own wife. “He does the best work,” Happy said, his hands already busy digging into his coveralls to snag a card from his wallet. “Tell him I sent you – he’ll hook you up.”

The card sat in his grease-covered hands reverently, the small piece of cardstock another piece to the next step with his most favorite human.

Horace, who turned out to be a gifted jeweler and a joy to be around, got him settled with a gorgeous damascus steel ring, the contrasting light and dark metals melding together to tangibly personify Tony and Peter. It was strong, yet delicate – the stunning beauty of it mellow and completely overwhelming. Walking out of the store with it made Tony feel fulfilled – with it soon, he hoped to make Peter his for the rest of his life.

Of course, things never went the way Tony initially planned them to go. He carried the black velvet box with him for weeks, waiting for the perfect moment to pop the question. Tony knew, despite the pulsing nerves, that Peter would say yes – they were meant to be, he couldn’t be the only one that felt that way. Not when, only after a little more than a year of being together, Peter felt like home. More than anything else in his entire life, Peter felt right.

After a string of long days in the shop, Tony was finishing up his last car of the day when Peter came storming through the side door. The slightly worrying tone of Peter’s voice when he uttered Tony’s name had him standing up too quickly, the hood he was working under smacking him in the back of the head with a dull thud. A slight whimper left his lips, his anxiousness not enough to stop the slight throb of pain.

“Pete, what’s up?” Tony asked, his voice only a little tight in his attempt to keep his slowly building panic to a minimum. They left the house that morning with a stolen make out session and a slight unwillingness to say goodbye – what could’ve possibly gone wrong between then and now? Rubbing the back of his head, Tony finally straightened himself completely, his attention totally on Peter.

His jaw dropped a second later when Peter thrust the very box he’d been worrying over between them, his eyebrow raised. “Want to tell me about this? I left some research on the passenger seat of my car and when I went to grab it, I found this suspicious black box on the seat. What is it, Tony?”

Peter’s eyes were wide, the look on his face telling Tony that Peter didn’t look, despite knowing exactly what resided within the box without the need to peek. Sucking in a quick breath, Tony snatched the box out of Peter’s hands, his knee hitting the floor a second later. That very instant was as good a time as any, he figured.

Pulling the lid of the box open, Tony used his free hand to grab Peter’s, his fingers gripping tightly. “It’s kind of fitting that I find the perfect moment in one of my fuck ups. You make all of the weird pieces of me feel so normal – like they fit, despite being totally obscure. No one, in my entire life, ever made me feel as complete as you do. I should have known that asking you to be mine forever would be as unconventional as I am. Will you be my husband, Pete? I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Instead of answering, Peter grabbed the grimy edges of his coveralls and pulled him up from the floor. His arms wound tightly around Tony’s neck, the space between their bodies getting narrowed down to nothing, the ring box stuck between them. Their lips met in a fierce kiss, spit-sticky tongues sliding together in an instant. Peter kissed Tony’s breath away, the two only pulling back when the risk of passing out ran too high.

“Yeah, I’ll be your husband,” Peter mumbled breathlessly, the pants of his breath making the words even more impactful.

A face splitting grin lit up Tony’s face, his cheeks straining with the effort. He wordlessly put a bit of distance between them, the space just enough to grab Peter’s left hand and slip the ring down his third finger. The juxtaposition of grease and pale skin and shiny metal stood out as he admired the perfect fit of forever’s promise, both on Peter’s finger and in the bond between them.

Leaning back into his new fiancé, Tony pulled Peter into him, their lips finding each other without fail. The perfectly imperfect thing that existed between them thrummed with new life. As they kissed, Tony succumbed to the pleasant ache of being completely consumed by Peter and all of the feelings that always threatened to overcome him. Peter had his back – and would for the rest of their lives. Their love deserved every overwhelming feeling Peter played muse to.  

[loveisnotadagger]

Love Is Healing - Chapter Seven

Chapter 7/?

Rated: T

Pairing: Loki/OFC

Arianna jolted awake when she heard the alarm signaling that someone had broken into the tower. She looked around her room, relieved to see that no one had broken in there, at least, before hopping out of bed.

SHIELD training involved having to learn to wake up under any and all circumstances, so Arianna was alert within seconds. She crept to her door, still in her pajamas, and opened the door slightly.

There was nothing in the hallway her room was located in, but it seemed that Loki had been alerted by the alarm too, because he was also peeking through a crack in his doorway.

"What's happening?" he whispered.

"I don't know. Someone's here. The others will be looking as well."

Arianna went past Loki's room and was surprised when he grabbed her wrist. She looked at him and was shocked to see the concern on his face.

"What?"

"I'll come with you," he said. "I can fight. You said that you don't know how."

"No, but someone might get hurt, and I can help with that."

"Then maybe you should wait. You do not want to be caught in the crossfire."

Loki's logic made sense. She would probably only get in the way. She didn't know how to fight at all, and she didn't have a weapon. Logically, she knew she should go back into her room and lock the door behind her, let the others deal with whatever this was, but she couldn't.

"Loki, they're my friends. I have to go."

She gently withdrew her wrist from his grip and continued down the hallway towards the main room. When she got there, she noticed nothing out of place aside from the fact that Natasha, Clint, and Steve were in the middle of the room. They were all in their pajamas, but they each had a weapon: Natasha a dagger; Clint his bow and a quiver full of arrows; Steve his shield.

"Jarvis? What's going on?" Arianna asked.

When she didn't get an answer, she looked to the three Avengers in the middle of the room.

"What's going on?"

"Jarvis is offline," Natasha said. "Has been since we tried contacting Tony a few minutes ago."

"Where is Tony?"

"In the lab with Banner."

"We have to get to them," Steve said. "Right now we're divided and they're only two people."

"One is not technically just a person," Loki said. "Banner is more than capable of protecting himself and Stark."

"Hate to say it," Clint said. "But he's right."

"You'd be surprised how often that happens."

Arianna would've smiled at how open Loki was being at the moment, but it just so happened that that was the moment that the window looking out over the balcony was broken into as several people crashed through it. There were about six people in all, dressed in black, with guns. One of them launched a smoke bomb into the middle of the room, and the Avengers plus Loki covered their mouths as smoke filled the room.

Arianna dropped to the floor and began crawling in the direction of what she hoped was the hallway where her bedroom was located. She'd lost sight of the others, but she could hear them coughing and moving around. She was coughing too, dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

Before Arianna could get far someone grabbed her ankle and dragged her backwards. She let out a small yelp of surprise and then an even bigger scream as she felt whoever it was grasp her shoulders and yank her to her feet.

A gloved hand covered her mouth and she tensed as her mind filled with panic. Who was this person? What did he or she want? Why had they gone to so much trouble to get in here?

The room was slowly clearing of the smoke and she was still being dragged backwards, towards the shattered window. She could see outlines of the other people now. Most of the people in black had been disarmed by Natasha and Steve, and now they were fighting along with Clint and Loki.

Arianna would have to find a way to free herself, as the others were busy. She did the only thing she knew to do: She lifted herself up and made herself become dead weight in her captor's arms. It threw her captor off balance, and she dropped to her knees to try and scamper away.

She was grabbed by the ankle again, only this time she was able to turn and kick out. The kick landed on the person's abdomen, and a male grunt reached her ears. Then she kicked again just for good measure, but he was ready for her this time and was able to block and catch her leg.

That was when she became aware of the shining silver dagger he was holding and fast arcing towards her thigh. She jerked away enough for his aim not to be completely true, but the blade still sliced through her pajama bottoms and over her skin deep enough for her to feel like fainting from the pain.

Instead, she screamed.

This seemed to cause the man to become angry. He slammed his fist down towards her and she clenched her eyes shut, anticipating the pain she was about to feel. She'd been hit before on missions – and during training – so she knew she could take it even if she would black out for a few seconds.

The blow never landed. In fact, the man's weight had been lifted completely off of her. When she opened her eyes she found out why.

The man that had been about to hit her had been tackled by Loki and they were grappling for the knife now. Loki looked dangerous and angry, but there was none of the insanity he'd displayed a month ago when she'd first seen him.

He knew exactly what he was doing when he finally got the knife and plunged it into the man's side, twisting and yanking it up to insure the man's death.

"I think you'll find the mistake you made was, in fact, hurting her," Loki said, knowing that all who heard it would hear the possessiveness he'd used while speaking.

He watched as the man went limp and stopped breathing. Loki stayed the way he was for a good fifteen seconds before checking for a pulse, and then turned to face Arianna, who had let out another scream, this one of pain.

Natasha and Clint had come to her, and Steve was on his way. The people that had broken in had been killed with arrows or by broken necks. Loki wouldn't be punished then, for killing the one that had hurt Arianna.

Loki went over to the others and knelt beside Arianna, who was not bleeding profusely from the gash in her right thigh. Her usually tan skin was pale now, and her face held an expression of pain.

"Why does she not heal herself?" he wondered out loud.

"She needs a source of energy and she refuses to take it from a human," Natasha said.

Loki, always quick on his feet, said, "The lab. There's plenty of energy down there."

Once the others realized that what he'd said actually made sense, Steve, who Loki still mentally called The Patriotic One, carefully picked Arianna up and they all went to the elevator, Natasha holding the shield now.

"Why did the intruders not cut the power?" Loki asked. "That would've been the smart thing to do."

"Jarvis was cut off," Natasha said. "That's the main security. Whoever broke in first . . . it wasn't the guys we fought or the alarm wouldn't have sounded until they smashed through the window."

"Maybe they hit the lab first," Clint suggested as they all stepped into the elevator.

Loki was surprised that no one said anything against him accompanying them. Then again, everyone was preoccupied with the crying girl in Steve's arms. Arianna didn't seem to be aware of her tears. She was more worried about not jostling her injured leg too much.

Loki wanted to ask if she thought she would be okay, but he also didn't want to do so in front of anyone else.

He would wait until he could get her alone. ----------

Once they reached the lab, they found both Tony and Bruce unconscious. Tony had a tranquillizer dart sticking out of his neck; Bruce had several in many places on his body.

Arianna hadn't known Bruce could be tranquillized, but there he was on the floor, completely knocked out.

Steve gently sat her down on one of the many tables there, and then he went towards the two scientists on the floor. Natasha and Clint followed him, but Loki stayed with her.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked quietly.

She nodded even as she swayed from the pain she was feeling. Arianna usually didn't have any negative wishes for anyone, but she was glad the one who had hurt her was dead. He wouldn't be able to hurt her or anyone else again.

"Thanks for saving my life."

"You've saved mine countless times," Loki said. "Consider it a returned favor."

Arianna tried to smile, but her expression quickly turned into a grimace instead.

"Or it could be that you consider me a friend and you were looking out for me."

"Perhaps. Just don't tell anyone. I've got a reputation to keep up as a heartless monster."

"I think that ship has sailed," she said, swaying again.

"Maybe you should lie down. Just don't go to sleep."

"What I need is for Tony to wake up. Or for Jarvis to be put back on."

Arianna knew Tony had been working on finding a source of sustainable energy for Earth. He was trying to create something much like the Tesseract, only not as volatile. If she could get her hands on it, she could heal herself easily.

"May I see?" Loki asked. "The wound, I mean. We need to stop the bleeding. You've lost a lot of blood, and I'm not sure what the limit is for a Midgardian."

"I'm – okay. Yeah."

Arianna wasn't sure what her limits were either. She knew she was dizzy and fading fast. She needed to stop the bleeding until Tony woke up.

"You will have to lie down for this."

She did as she was told even though she didn't really want to lie down. What if she passed out?

Loki drew out the knife he'd used to kill her attacker and used it to rip through the right leg of her pajama pants.

Loki was very clinical about it, focused on stemming the blood flow more than anything else. After he'd ripped the pantleg enough to reach the wound, he tore a strip off so he could tie it around her thigh and keep the blood from coming out too fast.

"Done," he said, "but keep still and do not sit back up."

Arianna relaxed as much as she could and did as she'd been told. She probably shouldn't have been upright to begin with. It had only helped the blood flow out more quickly.

Natasha ended up by Arianna's side once she'd done everything possible to help Tony and Banner. They were fine, but she didn't know how long they would be out. They had no clue how much of the tranquillizer had been used or how strong it had been.

Arianna was set, though, and Natasha had a hard time admitting to herself that Loki was the one responsible for that. He'd also been the one responsible for saving Arianna's life earlier.

Everyone else had been too busy with the other attackers. Even though Natasha knew Arianna couldn't fight to save her life, she'd still taken her eyes off of her friend and had left her to her own devices.

"Are you okay? We still have to wait for Tony and Banner to wake up."

Arianna nodded weakly.

Steve and Clint came over as soon as they were able, and they all formed a circle around where Arianna was lying.

"I still think you should take energy from us," Loki said. "All of us. You won't hurt anyone that way."

Arianna shook her head, but she didn't seem certain anymore. Natasha wondered if Arianna had ever thought about channeling from a group. It made sense, and she was all for it if it would close the wound on her friend's leg.

"I'll do it," Natasha said.

Clint nodded, as did Steve, but Arianna still shook her head.

"Why not?" Loki asked, a note of impatience in his voice. "You do realize if the two over there don't wake up soon, you could die?"

"I don't know how!" she exclaimed, putting more energy into her response than she probably should have.

Natasha noticed that her answer seemed to placate Loki, however, because he no longer seemed impatient. In fact, Natasha saw understanding flash over his face.

"If forget they don't train you in the art of magic on Midgard," he said and put a hand on Arianna's leg. "Everyone put a hand on her. We will all be connected while she does this. If it works, you'll feel your energy draining into her."

"And what do I do?" Arianna asked.

"Start with one of us," Loki said. "Focus on one touch at a time until you've reached us all."

As it turned out, Natasha was the one Arianna reached out to first. They were best friends, so it made sense. Natasha had found Arianna when she'd been at her lowest point and when Arianna had only just found out about her ability to manipulate energy. Natasha had tried to help her and had somewhere succeeded by offering her a job with SHIELD.

As Natasha's mind connected with Arianna's the red head almost flinched. She'd never had her mind invaded before, and she didn't want anyone seeing what was there.

"Sorry," Arianna muttered. "I've never done this when I was so weak."

Natasha relaxed when she felt the other's presence leave her brain. She could still feel Arianna's energy, but not Arianna's thoughts. That was better.

She eventually felt Clint's and Steve's presence as well, which made her feel oddly vulnerable, but it got much worse when Loki's energy merged with theirs.

It was worse because she could feel Loki's emotions. She realized that Arianna was naturally connected with the former Asgardian. She'd formed a bond with him when she'd brought him out of his mind prison. Through Arianna, Natasha could tell that even though Loki was all the things Natasha thought him to be, he was also what Arianna thought him to be.

He was a victim as much as he was a villain, and Natasha knew that meant that Loki might be redeemable. He'd already found someone he wanted to protect. Whether he'd done it because he cared for her or because he felt he owed her it, it showed that Loki did have a code of ethics, even if that code was unique to him.

Natasha had reason to believe that Loki wouldn't hurt Arianna. She wasn't sure about anyone else. ---------- Arianna tried to keep her mind out of everyone else's, but it was hard because she was so weak she could hardly focus. In the end, she got flashes of memories from everyone.

From Natasha she'd gotten glimpses of some school for girls, though it must've been more than that because Natasha had been angry at and scared of the memory of the place. Natasha never spoke about her past, so Arianna wasn't sure exactly what she'd seen.

Clint had been thinking about a family – his family. A farm house with acres of land. A wife, children. Arianna hadn't known that Clint had any family.

Steve had only one thing on his mind: A woman named Peggy Carter. Arianna already knew that story, but she hadn't known that it still filled Steve's thoughts.

Finally, there was Loki. She saw more from him because she'd been in his mind a few times before. It was much easier to connect with him because of that.

In Loki's mind now, Arianna could feel that no matter what Loki showed to the outside world, he was still plagued with memories from his year of torture. Why wouldn't he be? One didn't just get over something like that. Thanos had made Loki believe that no one had ever, could ever care for him.

Since he'd been on Earth – or Midgard, as he still called it – he'd found someone who did care. He didn't want to admit it out loud, but he knew Arianna didn't take time out of her day to check on him and keep him company just because he was her responsibility.

He was still waiting for the moment that Arianna realized that she was dealing with a lost cause and would give up on him. Loki had been alone and tortured for so long that, until he'd met Arianna, comfort from an actual person had seemed a thing of mere fantasy.

Loki had believed that no one could ever understand why he'd done what he'd done in coming to Midgard and trying to conquer, but Arianna did. Because of her ability to see what had happened and feel some of it, she did understand and she didn't hate him.

'Of course I don't hate you,' Arianna sent the thought to Loki only.

She had blocked Loki's thoughts and feelings from everyone else. In fact, since she was acting as a sort of filter, nobody had felt anybody else's feelings once she'd figured out what she was doing, which hadn't taken long.

After Arianna was healed – healed but still weak – the room fell silent. No one really knew what to say, it seemed. Arianna wanted to talk to Loki but knew he would not be open to conversation with everyone else around.

There was movement where Bruce and Tony had been lying. Bruce was waking up now, hands over his eyes, as if his head was aching. Side effect of the tranquillizer, maybe. His hands began roaming over the rest of his body – probably checking for the darts he'd been shot with, but they had already been removed.

The room was tense as they all waited to see if Bruce was going to turn green and angry, but he seemed fine even if he was moving slower than normal.

Tony came to not long after that and he was the first one to speak by asking what had happened.

"Someone broke in," Natasha said. "They were trained fighters and they were after Aries. There are a few bodies upstairs."

"She was hurt, but we helped heal her," Clint said.

"Bet that was awesome," Tony said. "The healing, not the hurting."

"I know what you meant." Arianna looked around the lab. "Was anything taken?"

Tony went rigid before stumbling to his feet. He hurriedly went through all the tables around him, searching for something.

"We were testing your blood. It's gone."

"Three guesses as to who has it," Loki muttered.

"SHIELD," Arianna said.

"No," Natasha said. "No way would Fury –"

"He did threaten me," Arianna reminded her. "But I wasn't talking about him. The council – or someone about Fury's authority. If they knew about me . . ."

"Are you in danger?" Loki asked.

Arianna didn't want to believe her own people would go against her just because of how different she was, but it was more than possible for that to happen.

"If they believe me to be a threat . . . yes."

"We can protect you, though," Steve said. "We'll take turns watching over you."

Tony nodded. "Absolutely."

Natasha nodded as well. Arianna knew how hard this would be for her. Natasha looked to Fury as a father figure – to actively go against him would tear her apart inside.

Bruce would do whatever he thought was right.

Clint would protect whoever he considered to be innocent.

"Loki?"

The black-haired man shrugged. "I've already killed once to protect you. Nothing more needs to be said on where my loyalty lies in this situation."

"Thank you."

A few seconds later, Tony lightened the mood by opening his mouth.

"So . . . who's picking up the cleaning bill?"

Arianna threw her hands up in a gesture of backing away from the responsibility.

"You're the billionaire here, so . . . you." ---------- Back upstairs now, the whole group was sitting around Tony's living room. None of them felt like sleeping, not even Arianna, who was definitely in need of rest.

When they had reached the living room, the first thing Tony had done was call someone to get rid of the bodies there. He'd take care of the cleaning crew in the morning – or later that morning.

"I think I need to teach each of you how to override a system shutdown," Tony said. "I was hacked into tonight, so I'll have to create a whole new program to work with."

"Yeah, um . . . the problem is that you and Bruce are the only ones smart enough here to pick up your technology quickly," Arianna said.

"Agent Romanoff does okay," Tony said, earning a smirk from Natasha.

"We should start sparring again," Natasha said. "I know you hate fighting, Aries, but you need to learn. You could've been killed tonight."

"They didn't want me dead. They just didn't expect such a fight to keep me here."

The people who had broken in had indeed been SHIELD agents. The outfits they'd been wearing had told them as much.

"Sometimes, Arianna, death is a kindness," Loki said and got up from his spot on the couch.

He'd been thinking about how he'd almost lost the only friend he had on Midgard. Maybe anywhere, to be honest. He hadn't even really thought about what he'd been doing when he'd killed that guy. He'd just known that Arianna had been in trouble and that he'd been the closest one available to help her.

He quickly went to his room and sat on his bed. He became lost in his own mind at once. So much had happened to him in the last year, most of it more than not good. Pain, so much pain. He had become something he'd never wanted to be, something monstrous. He'd become a killer.

Hundreds of people had died because of his actions. He'd been in battle before, of course, but killing just to kill . . . that wasn't him. He'd brought death and destruction to Midgard.

"Please stop," Arianna's voice came from his doorway. "I can feel you thinking all the way in the living room."

Loki looked her way. She was leaning against the wall. He could tell she was tired even though she was fighting against it.

"You feel my thoughts?"

"Yeah. It happens after I connect with someone a few times. It'll fade eventually."

"And I . . . heard your thoughts earlier?"

She nodded. "That doesn't happen often, but I thought you needed to hear it. I don't hate you. If I didn't know what happened, I might. But after everything how can you not see that I do care?"

Loki stood up. "But why?" He hadn't meant to yell and he definitely hadn't meant to make her flinch. He didn't want her to be afraid of him. "Why care about me? What could you possibly gain?"

Arianna shook her head and seemed infinitely sad.

"You don't need a reason to care, Loki. And you don't care for someone just so you can get something from them. I don't know where you learned that, but it's wrong."

He knew that – within his whole being he knew he'd always wanted someone like Arianna. He didn't deserve someone like her, but oh gods, how he wanted. She gave and never expected anything, didn't even want anything in return. She cared about him and only ever wanted him to be who he'd been before he'd found out who he really was.

"And who are you?" she moved forward. "And does it really matter? You've been given a new start."

This girl could ruin him.

"I agreed to help you because I know you're better than you let yourself be. You don't believe me because you think you're unlovable. But that's not true. If you didn't have good in you, you wouldn't have saved me tonight."

Every fiber of Loki's being wanted to believe her, wanted to look into Arianna's green eyes and get lost in the naïve faith she seemed to have, but he wouldn't allow himself that pleasure.

"Are you really so foolish as to accept a monster? You know no one outside of this building will ever understand why I did what I did. They will never be able to forgive. And SHIELD will never forgive you for siding with me."

Arianna scoffed and Loki saw a determination there that he'd never seen before.

"They are not my friends. They tried to kidnap me tonight. I know what will happen to me if they get their hands on me and I refuse to do what they want. You know what will happen."

'Pain,' Loki thought, shuddering. Kind Arianna in so much pain, being used for someone else's gain. He wouldn't allow that. Not ever. Even if he had to burn SHIELD to the ground.

"Not everyone is a problem."

"Get out of my head," he said, no real malice in his voice.

"Then stop thinking so loudly."

@smallangryandpink @purplekitten30

[lilchairstacker]

For Margo (Original 2018 Version)

This was a story I wrote almost four years ago, that's crazy to think about. It's fourth anniversary is coming up in March, but I don't remember the day I finished it. I've shared this on DeviantArt and with @wyldespiderraptor and that's about it, so I'm glad I'm able to share it here. This is very old, so it might be a bit rough, but I'm going to rewrite it too. Hopefully it will be much better, but I hope you enjoy.

February 16th 2063.

For years now, Mount Everest has been a restricted area. The area has been polluted with dozens of dead bodies and equipment from previous ventures. 

Now, the Mountain has been reopened to the public.

But now, everyone has lost interest. The summit is dead. 

Except for one man. Everyone stopped climbing up the mountain, until Ulysses Zoltan did it. Alone.

~

Climbing up the massive mountain took several weeks to do, so that they could get their body used to the altitude. But that was for a group. For Ulysses, that was a few months…

No one had been that close to the mountain as him in twenty years. 

He had no idea what was up there. 

Since the shut-down, the tectonic plates of India and China have continued to press against each other, making Mt. Everest a few centimeters taller every year. And it had been twenty years since anyone had measured it. 

No one had ever climbed the mountain alone, and it was dangerous to do with seven people. 

If he was hurt, there was no one to save him. But he wouldn’t have been alone… if Margo Shure was still there. 

Ever since they were children, they had dreamed of climbing up the mountain, until it was restricted. When they were both twenty-five, they got married, and they were only married for four years when she was diagnosed with cancer. 

A month before that, the restriction on Everest had been lifted. That was when Ulysses pulled out their old plans to climb the summit, before she got any worse. 

But they didn’t make it…

Now he was there, alone, in the weather that was hundreds of degrees below zero. He had no way of knowing how close he was, or anything. He had the old standard tools. No technology. He had sold as much as he could to make it this far. Plus, in those times, technology for people in his class had no use for it anymore. 

He had a tent, a compass, and old map, and a journal to keep track of everything he did, so if that anyone found his things, or when he got back, he could possibly publish it to show to the world. 

Ulysses laid in the warmth of his tent, or little warmth. Somehow, he had managed to keep a fire in his lamp alive. He had an oxygen mask on his face, and he kept two large tanks with him. 

He was doing this for Margo, and he was taking her with him. He was taking her bottle of ashes up to the summit.

He opened up his journal, which in the front he had tried to shove every picture of them he could to keep with him. 

He had written a lot, he had started writing in it ever since Margo… passed…

He began to write in the journal:

‘Day 104.

I think I’m close to the summit, but I’m not sure how much farther. It’s lonely and dead up here, it’s so quiet that it sends a different kind of chill up my spine. The headaches are getting worse, I may catch severe altitude sickness before I make it. But I can’t, or I won’t make it. I don’t have much food left, and my oxygen is running low. I just hope I make it. 

I don’t care about making it back anymore, I want to make it up there for her.

All of this is for her.’

       ~

The next morning, the wind was extreme. Ulysses quickly gathered his things and shoved them into the massive back. He threw it over his shoulder onto his back. He quickly pulled his hood over his head and his mask over his eyes. 

Once he stepped outside, he was almost blown onto the ground. He held his lamp with a shaky hand as he tripped out of the tent. 

And it blew away.

He watched with dread as the tent was thrown far away by the vicious wind. 

He took a few moments to realize what had just happened. No tent. 

That meant he couldn’t rest. It would take him almost another month to get down, this time, with no tent… 

He slowly turned to face the wind and snow coming at him. He couldn't see anything anything… 

All he could see was the ground. And he could barely see that. He began to slowly stumble forward, the wind almost blew him over several times. 

He continued for hours, hiking up the mountain. 

Ulysses passed several frozen-solid tents and equipment that hadn't been used since he was a child.

As he climbed through the vicious storm, several memories came back to him of him and Margo as a child. 

They loved to play like they were hiking up the mountain, but back then, they had no idea about the real struggles.

But it was still cute. 

Ulysses was often a bit nervous around her, but Margo didn't mind his nervousness. 

She helped him through his fears and helped him with everything. Ever since she passed away, he had barely been able to keep their house. 

He wasn't paid enough to pay the bills, especially in that time… 

He looked up after a while to see that it was getting brighter. 

The storm was clearing up. 

When the snow dissipated, he saw the true horror… 

Bodies, dozens of bodies. Everywhere. 

Ulysses stood in front of the bodies in shock. He had no idea how bad this was…

All of the bodies were coated in frost and snow, some were barely visible under the snow. 

Several flags from other countries were stuck in the ground next to the bodies. 

That's when he realized it was deathly silent. 

He stayed silent, as if he was waiting for something to happen. 

He didn't know what, because he didn't know what to do… 

He began to slowly began to trek around the bodies as much as he could. It was very challenging. He sensed he was probably stepping on buried bodies from years ago. These bodies must’ve been twenty years old. 

He hated to disrespect their deaths… but he had to get up there. Now, he knew he was close.

~

He thought he was close, but he was about two hours away.

It had been the longest day of his journey to the summit. He had nowhere to rest anyway…

He had gone through one tank now. And he was running low on the one he had now. He wouldn’t make it down…

He was wheezing a bit now, since it was getting hard to breath. And he couldn’t get fresh air. 

Suddenly, he managed to make out and edge. He saw the summit. It was there, almost 500 feet away. 

A small bit of hope arose within him when he saw it. He smiled under the mask.

He shoved off his backpack and began to run to the summit to the best of his abilities. It was more of a limp  at that point. 

As the mountain got more steep, he began to slightly crawl up it, since he would fall backwards if he tried to walk up it. 

As he came within two feet of the summit, he caught a glimpse over the edge of the summit.

He stared in amazement for a moment, and then finally stood on the top. 

The highest point on earth. 

From that point, he could see the entirety of the Himalayas. And he could see the curve of the earth, concluding that the earth was a globe. 

Over a few mountains he could see the sun slowly setting, as it cast a pink and orange glow across the clouds below him. 

The sky was a blueish black, since there were no clouds outside of the atmosphere. He could see the many distant stars, he could make out a few of the planets in that solar system. Below he saw a large drop, and then the mountain disappeared down into the clouds he was once in. 

A few tears dripped down Ulysses’s face under his mask.

Margo would’ve loved this…

He slowly took out his journal and began to scribble something down quickly before he put it back in his pocket. 

He took out a large silver jar.

Her ashes. 

He opened the jar and threw the ashes out all at once. 

They slowly floated down beneath the clouds, and it was done. She deserved this. 

Margo was a great person, she didn’t deserve to die so young. But her body deserved a good resting place. That was on Mt. Everest.

Ulysses pulled out a folded up flag from his pocket as well and tied it to a stick. It was a flag he had made for her when they were little. It was when he admitted to her he liked her, and that was when they began to date. 

He stuck it in the ground on the summit. Originally, it said: “Margo.” Now, he had modified it. The flag now said: “For Margo.” 

He had taped several pictures of them to it from the journal the previous night. 

Ulysses stayed there for a moment, he was getting dizzy, because he no longer had oxygen.

But it didn’t matter. He made it.

He was okay with death, death was a habit with humans. 

And he had finally done it. Margo deserved this, and she deserved more…

Ulysses began to sway a bit.

And he fell forward. 

His body smashed into the hard rock, breaking several of his ribs and ripping off his hood, mask, and goggles. 

His body came to a stop on a clearing in the cloud. 

His blood began to soak into the snow and stained his clothes. 

Pain. He was in excruciating pain. He had never felt that much pain before. But, it was beginning to numb from his lack of oxygen. The altitude sickness was beginning to bring in pain as well. As his brain felt like it was swelling, and his blood began to burn. 

The wind against his face was viciously cold, he would surely die of hypothermia before anything else. 

His eyes began to flicker closed as his movement came to a stop. 

That’s when the pain went away. 

He opened his eyes slightly, he felt very confused. It was no longer cold, and there was no pain. 

He closed his eyes again when there was a bright light in front of him. 

He put his hand up in front of his face and began to stand up. And somehow, he was standing again. 

Ulysses pulled his hand away when something blocked the light a little bit. 

It was a person. 

But no one could be alive there… no one. He was alone.

As the figure walked closer, he could make out who it was.

It was Margo. 

Several tears began to run down his face when he saw her, he smiled a little bit.

She held out her hand to him, which was something he was waiting for for a long time. Ulysses slowly grabbed her hand with his own. 

She smiled, “Come on, I have a few things to show you.” 

~

‘Day 105 

I did it. 

Rest in peace Margo W. Shure, 2039-2058. 

I can’t wait to see you again.’

Ulysses Zoltan climbed Mt. Everest alone in 2063. He was the first man to ever climb Everest alone. A few months after his death, an expedition group climbed the mountain, and the journal was found and was published in 2064. 

[phantom-wolf]

@usukweek

Day 6 prompt: mythology

A/N Before we begin just wanted to spew some mythology at you

I'm no expert but a Púca seems to be a shape shifting spirit that can take the form of a rabbit, goat, cat, dog and a horse. They usually have black fur with golden eyes. If they are to take the form of a human they're usually left with some animal feature (for example bunny ears). The mythology is sorta vague about whether they're good or bad (they can both help or hinder) but a common theme amongst them is misheviousness. They try to lure people onto their backs and then they give them a terifying ride throughout the whole area and then return them to where they found them.

Dryads are female but for the sake of the story male dryad's are very very rare and are often regarded as black sheep. They tend to be isolated from the other dryads.

-------

The thunder of hooves silenced the songbirds that sat perched on branches above. Frantic puffs of breath escaped flaring nostrils as the stallion struggled to intake oxygen caused by the gallop he was currently partaking in. Branches like nimble fingers reached out, brushing the animals side pulling on his flank and ocassionally creating small incisions. His black fur glinted when struck correctly by the ocassional sunlight that broke through the canopy of the forest, enabled by the crimson liquid leaking freely out of the gashes on the others neck and shoulders. The horse's mane and tail bounced freely coinciding with the ferocity of his stride despite the roots and broken sticks set on the ground that slowed him. The incessent buzzing of insects as they tried to feast on his open wounds were an annoyance however more pressing concerns weighing on his mind so he did not take the time to stop. His ears swiveled back to the sound of furious shouts that had persisted the whole time and refused to dissipate encouraged by the crimsion trail left in the stallions wake. He felt himself jolt forwards before he even knew what happened. His body reacted before his mind could the cracking displaced bones and joints overshadowing the snap of the bones in his left leg. Beast was replaced by man who promptly passed out from the connection of his skull and the ground.

When he came too he blinked, slowly taking in his surroudings. It took him a moment to realize that everything was sideways. He lifted his head to take in his surrounds but the movement made him dizzy. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut taking a moment to rid himself of the dizzyness. He rested his head against the ground once more opting to not move. Instead he opened his eyes watching the sunlight cast shadows that flickered along the ground. He gave another groan his whole body aching from the impromptu shift. Oh how gravity hated him. Actually correction the universe hated him.

A soft thumping gradually moved closer. He recognized the sound as footsteps drawing nearer and yet he couldn't bring himself to look behind him. Was this how he died? Damn he thought he'd go out like a total badass not some sissy that just- a male voice interrupted his thoughts. It was a soft sound, yet distinct with a twinge of surprise. He couldn't describe it as unpleasant yet the stranger also seemed to be chastising him. Perhaps he had been observing for longer then expected and caught him moving around.

"Oh. You're awake earlier then anticipated. Here drink this it will help with the pain." A small crudely sculpted bowl was offered to him. Remembering how he got here in the first place he decided to not trust some persons supposed remedy. He took a moment to glance up at the stranger's arms, his eyes the only thing to move. The stranger's appendages where pale, his fingers slender and his hands lacked signs of manual labor. There were grooves along his arms some deeper then others, the skin around them discolored as if the skin around it had been flayed and healed, yet they were unmistakenly human. He had been alive long enough to know human cruelty extended to other humans. Especially to other humans.

"Who are you?" The shifter questioned. Instead of responding verbally the stranger moved to the front of him, crouching down so he could see all of him without moving his head. His eyes raked over the other from his feet to his head. Overall the male adorned a white oversized linen undershirt that hung loosely from his frame and looked to date back a few centuries. He wore no footwear soil impressing itself upon his bare feet and sported breeches that were quite tattered. His savior looked a little older than himself but still relatively young with eyes that reminded him of the greenery around him. Any other exposed skin was pale the sunlight illuminating his blond hair making him look ethereal. This image was shattered by the most horrid eyebrows he'd ever seen on a human being. "What is on your face?"

The man's face twisted into a scowl yet he looked away to presumably hide his features. "Either drink the bloody thing or suffer. I don't give a damn. Oh and like your the one to talk. You still have horse ears púca." he snapped.

He jolted at the sudden naming of his species, rolling onto his back with a grunt, hands flying to his ears to try to cover them. Shit, shit. He did his best to scramble away. "Don't come any closer." This earned him an eye roll from the other man.

"Firstly, your leg is splinted you're not going anywhere until its healed. Secondly, relax. I was just surprised at first. I haven't seen one of your kind in centuries." The stranger stated standing up and stretching himself out a bit.

"Centuries?" The blue eyed make asked tilting his head in curiosity but still eyeing the other cautiously. Perhaps he was wrong in his assumption about the other being human.

"You're not very bright are you?" The blond scoffed, crossing his arms. "I'm a Drus-" The other started to explain. Upon receiving a blank stare he huffed. "A male dryad. And you're in my forest. Have some respect."

He swallowed his indignation instead spewing the first question that came to mind. "What's your name?"

"Arthur." After a bout of silence the male spoke up once more. "You really are lacking in common courtesy aren't you? Who are you?"

"Name's Alfred."

---

It took a few weeks for his leg and his head to heal enough for him to be able to roam freely again. During this time the dryad and púca became well acquainted. Of course Alfred would return to civilization but he was sure to alert Arthur before he did so and always returned with new clothing for the other. More modern and better fitting. The wounds on his neck and back had closed and left some scars but he didn't mind. The trips to town would often wear the púca out so he'd take a few days to stay with the older entity.

"Arthur is too stuffy." Alfred started leaning against a nearby spruce. "How about Artos?"

"What century are you living in?" The dryad raised an impressively large eyebrow.

"Hmmm fine. No old derivative of your name. How about I call you Artie instead?"

A sharp glare was sent his way and an acorn bounced off his temple. "How about I use you as fertilizer instead?"

He let loose a loud boisterous laugh, rubbing the spot where the nut hit. He piped up again. "You went through a lot of trouble to help me just think of all that time wasted if you did turn me into fertilizer."

"Oh shut it".

With that the two of them faded into a comfortable silence. That was before the others hands and arms caught his attention. A question ate away at his admittedly little self control. "What's with the grooves on your arms?"

The other's expression soured, melancholy painting his features. "My skin bares the marks of my naivety. Where I let humans take and they took too much. Normally dryads protect their forest and I did. It is my body after all. I just- I just wanted friends and I thought they would provide that if I allowed them to take from me."

The younger gave a frown. Oh. "Well if it makes you feel better I'm trying to be a hero! I don't want to scare people and cause mischief! I want to help them!"

"Did you even listen to what I said? Going against your nature only gets you hurt. " Arthur huffed rolling his eyes.

Alfred snorted feeling his anger rise. Don't do it, you can't do it, yadayadayada. Everyone's told him that he couldn't. Now even the one person he regarded as a friend was telling him not to? "I'm not you though. I can do it! I have been doing it! And I don't blame them for leaving with your attitude".

He could see Arthur physically tense, could practically see all the walls he had chipped away at going right back up. Even through his frustration he could tell how badly he just messed up.

"Then leave" The green eyed male snapped standing and stalking away to the closest opening the forest had to offer. Before Alfred could open his mouth to say anything the human was replaced by a large oak, its age shown in the width of its trunk. It would've been impressive- if Alfred didn't have more to say.

"Art I'm sorry! I didn't mean it I swear!" He called walking over to the tree and placing a hand on it trying to let the other know he was there. "Come on back Arthur!"

He didn't receive a response from him. "I know you can hear me!" The environment was still seemingly hushed by the downturn of the dryad's mood. He stood for a solid ten minutes before impatience pricked his skin. "Fine I'll leave."

So he did. He left the forest grumbling while he did so. He may have purposely stomped on some mushrooms that had been growing on the way out. After doing so he felt immensely guilty so he vowed to return the next day and properly apologize.

He left at about ten in the morning, visiting a local bookshop and picking up a copy of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. Hey supposedly the movie was good so he assumed the novel was alright. With the book tucked closely to his chest he made his way back into the woodland. He returned to the spot in which they inhabited previously only to find that Arthur wasn't there. He proceeded to search around until his patience gave way, plopping down. "Stupid Arthur" he murmured blue eyes flashing gold with his frustration. Yeah he had blue eyes. His eyes where only gold in animal form. Hah stupid humans. They were easy to fool.

A sudden realization hit him in the face, blinking before a wide grin spread tugged at his lips." Hey Arthur! If you'd stop ignoring me for five seconds and listen! I might leave ya but I'll always come back! Promise!"

He barely noticed a movement out of the corner of his eyes.

A cold voice responded to his words. "You'll come back? Why?"

He whipped around to face the other hope igniting like a flame in his eyes. "Because we're friends now and I look out for my friends!"

He missed the color that rose on the others cheeks and how the whole forest seemed to shutter. "Friends?" He murmured to himself pondering the word and if he wanted to accept this. "Fine. But you're going to have to actually prove that you'll keep your promise. Words are nasty things that lie and decieve. Let your actions speak for you".

And so he did.

--

Weeks turned into months that transitioned into years. Alfred always came back to the forest and eventually only left to grab supplies from nearby towns. During this time he'd gotten even closer to Arthur. He admired how gentle he could be. How when he'd come across a wounded animal he'd nurse it back to health similarly to how he did with him so many years ago. Sure he could be infuriatingly stubborn but passionate and guarded, weary of travelers and fearful of what they might do to his body.

Alfred wished to stop this fear. So one night he reached over and took the others hands in his own. "I'll protect you from them" he stated firmly meeting the others eyes when the other anxiousness shined through on his face.

"From who?" The other sputtered his face bright red as he was snapped from the feeling of humans moving through the forest. By now it wasn't hard to see that the two entities had developed particular feelings for one another. Although neither knew how to describe it or act on it. Alfred hadn't even realized he longed for the other until he saw a couple holding hands.

"From anyone who wants to hurt you. I can give up my dream of being others hero and instead I'll be yours."

"I can look out for myself, I've been doing it for centuries. The last thing I need is you getting hurt! You get all whiny when you feel restless"

Alfred let out a snort "Do not. Anyway I know you can look out for yourself. But you don't need to do it alone. Let me be with you Arthur".

"Fine. But don't you be getting hurt all the time."

He gave a grin and pulled the other in for a hug "You're the best Artie!"

The other only yelped and slowly relaxed into it before returning the hug and scolding him for using the name Artie. Although there was no real bite to his words. Arthur looked up to meet the others eyes grumbling to himself still on his tangent about being called Artie but the others dopey smile made him pause. He gave a sigh "you have a lot to make up for. And- I'm sorry about what I said as well."

"I know. I got you a book! Will you read it to me?"

"Of course dear."

---

While his head was in Arthur's lap the others fingers combing through his hair lulling him to the brink of sleep the dryad asked a question.

"How did you end up bleeding and running from humans all those years ago Alfred?"

"Well ya see I wanted to help someone and was gonna bring them to an area where they'd find the flowers they were looking for. Some young guy. Thought he was the shit. So he climbed on and I started to take him there. He called out to someone and then once I was like halfway there he realized he couldn't get off. He had some blade and tried to get me to put him down but I didn't want to! The area wasn't the nicest so eventually I brought him back. Whoever he called to must've recognized what I was and then there was a group of humans waiting for me! I let him go and I ran and then my darling Dryad saved me."

"Darling Dryad huh?"

"Yup!" He chirped quickly moving into catch the others lips. Which resulted in a loving exchange before the smaller male pulled away sputtering out an I love you.

------

Nestled underneath the roots of the oak, hidden by the shadows of the tree black fur could hardly made out. A small, steady expansion of the rabbits sides separated it from the stillness encompassing it. It stirred, its golden eyes illuminated by the darkness, ears twitching as it listened to seemingly some type of inaudible melody. Slowly his head lowered, resting on his paws once more before closing his eyes once again tucked safely in the arms of his dryad.

They say there's a small forest that's been untouched for centuries. People may wander amongst its trails imprinted by the game themselves. Almost all report the same thing. Some see a cat. Some a dog. Some see one lone goat that follows them and doesn't come any closer despite beckoning or promise of food. These animals prove impossible to capture. If one gets close enough they're able to note that the beasts have two golden eyes.

A/N- I hate this but its 11:50 pm and needs to be published.

[dryadsbubbles]

You Make Me Worry

Because all I want is an AWAE take on The Ridgepole Scene(TM) but I don't have faith that we're going to get it so I'm writing it myself.

From Gilbert's pov

(ao3 link)

-

Gilbert sighed to himself. He was bored. In hindsight, he could’ve prevented this by simply staying at home to help Bash on the farm but once he heard Anne talking with Diana about going, he knew he had to attend too. They had become closer friends over the past few months. He knew it was silly of him to keep pining after her, even though she had never given him any hints that she wanted to be anything more than just friends, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to be wherever she was. Which is how he found himself in Josie Pye’s backyard, bored out of his mind.

The entire class was there. A last day of school celebration. They were all sitting in a circle playing a class favourite-Truth or Dare. His classmates giggled in amusement after each turn, watching as Moody licked Charlie’s big toe, or gasping when Tillie revealed her crush on Paul L. Gilbert, on the other hand, could not find it in him to be entertained. Being at least 2 years older than most of his classmates, he often found that he had grown out of the activities they found amusing. At lunch, he generally took to reading a book inside the schoolhouse instead of heading outside with the rest of the boys to throw rocks at birds, or find girls to torment. He did, however, enjoy watching Anne whenever she was picked. He liked the way she would sit up straighter, with a determined look in her eyes whenever someone called her name, ready for whatever physical or mental challenge she was about to face.

It wasn’t until Jane dared Josie to walk the ridge of the fence that things started to escalate. Josie flounced her way to the fence and easily lifted herself onto the boards of the fence. She walked to the other edge of the fence with confidence, as if she had done it many times before. Hopping off at the other side and dusting off her hands, she strutted back to the circle with a prideful sway. Gilbert spared a glance at Anne and was not surprised to see the challenging look in her eyes.

“You know, Diana,” She started pointedly, speaking loud enough so everyone could hear.

“I don’t think it’s such a very impressive thing to walk a little, low, fence. I once knew a girl who could walk the ridgepole of a roof.”

“I don’t believe it,” Josie said, putting her hand on her hip, “I don’t think anyone could do such a thing. You most certainly couldn’t.”

It was then that Gilbert knew that things were about to get bad.

“Couldn’t I?” Anne countered.

“Fine then. I dare you to.” Josie smirked.

Anne blanched for the slightest moment. It was clear to Gilbert that she had not thought this through. He prayed that she wouldn’t go through with it. Prayed that she was sensible enough to realize that this was a death wish.

He was not shocked, though, when she stood up and confidently started walking to the ladder leaning up against the Pye house.

Both he and Diana scrambled to their feet and chased after her.

“Anne, no.” Whispered Diana. “You do not have to do this just because Josie Pye dared you to. Everyone knows it’s not a fair dare.”

“Thank you, Diana, for your concern but I can assure you that I know what I’m doing.” Anne replied.

“Anne, you can not climb up onto that roof. It is not safe.” Gilbert cut in.

“Gilbert Blythe, I do not need you to tell me what I can and cannot do.” Anne said, sharply.

“Anne-” He tried again.

“No!” She interrupted, “I am doing this and that is final. Now if you’ll please excuse me.”

Gilbert and Diana let her go. They both knew better than to argue with Anne once she made up her mind about something. It was useless and was more likely to only make things worse.

Gilbert watched as Anne reached the ladder. She paused for a moment before she grabbed to the first rung and began her climb. To anyone else, Anne seemed confident in herself as she ascended the ladder. But Gilbert knew what to look for. He noticed the slight tremor in her hands and the way her eyes widened slightly as she reached the top. He knew that she was not as nonchalant and collected as she pretended to be.

He held his breath as she took the first step of her on the ridgepole, arms spread out like an eagle for balance. Any other time, he would have admired the way her hair blew in the wind or how gracefully she placed her feet, one after the other. But now, all he could do was watch and pray that she would make it back to the ladder before he passed out from lack of oxygen. When she reached the other side and turned around to go back to the ladder, Gilbert relaxed a little. She seemed to be doing alright and it seemed possible that she would make it out unscathed. That was when she stumbled for the first time. The whole class audibly gasped and then let out a sigh of relief when she caught her balance. But the first slip up had made Anne lose her concentration and her rhythm. On the next step, her back foot slipped too far for recovery.

Gilbert’s whole world went fuzzy as he watched her tumble down onto the other side of the house. All he could focus on was how he shouldn’t have let her go up there. He should’ve tried harder to stop her, put up a better fight. He’d been an apprentice for Dr. Ward for a while now, he knew what could happen from a fall like that. And yet, he still let her do it.

He felt himself running around the house beside Diana, their classmates close behind them. She was there when he rounded the corner, laying still in a pile of bushes by the house. Diana reached her first.

“Anne, are you killed? Oh, Anne, dear Anne, speak just one word to me and tell me if you’re killed” Diana cried.

“No, Diana, I am not killed, but I think I am rendered unconscious.” Anne groans.

Relief flooded his body. He had never been so thankful before.

He lifted her out of the bushes with the help of Diana. That is when he noticed her limp on her right ankle. His jaw clenched and suddenly he was overcome with frustration. She had known exactly what she was getting herself into. She had known just as well as he had that it probably would’ve ended in disaster and yet, she still did it. She still put herself directly in harm's way and for what? To prove a point? He couldn’t believe her. He knew she was stubborn- heck, that was probably one of the qualities he admired most about her- but this was taking it too far.

As frustrated as he was, he knew he had to make sure that she got home alright, which is why he shot a reassuring look at Diana and then whispered to Anne, “I’ll take you home.”

He felt his classmates gawking at them- still in shock of what just happened- as they hobbled slowly down the driveway, Anne’s arm around his neck for support.

They walked down the lane, uncharacteristically silent. Normally he would’ve been attempting to cheer her up by telling her stories about Bash or his childhood but he couldn’t bring himself to speak, scared that he might say something out of anger that he would regret later.

This tense silence prompted Anne to speak up.

“I know you’re mad at me.” She began cautiously.

“Of course, I’m mad at you!” He finally burst. “Do you know how seriously injured you could’ve been? All for some silly bet?”

“But I wasn’t! I’m completely fine except for a rolled ankle that will heal in no time.”

“Your don’t have to prove yourself to everyone, you know. Was it really worth it to put yourself in such danger?”

“You heard her Gil, she was so smug, I couldn’t back down from something like that.”

They were stopped in the middle of the lane now, face to face.

“Do you never think about the consequences of your actions? What do you think would’ve happened if the fall had been worse? What would Marilla and Matthew have done? What would Diana have done? What would- what would I have done?” He whispered the last part.

She looked at him for a long moment before saying, “You’re right, Gil. It was stupid and I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry that I worried you.”

Gilbert smiled gently.

“Thank you.” He whispered.

Impulsively, he leaned down and kissed her forehead lightly. He heard her sharp intake of breath and pulled back to look into her eyes. They stared at each other for a moment before the corners of her lips tilted upwards.

With that, he picked her up bridal style, and continued towards Green Gables. He figured that it would be much faster if he was the only one doing the walking.

“Just promise that you won’t do something like that ever again.” He requested.

“You know I can’t promise you that.” She replied.

He smiled down at her.

“Yeah, I know.”

-

[fxkthatdairy]

Panic Room Chapter Nine: Safe and Sound~ Grayson Dolan

Overview: In the year 2020, to solve the problem of overpopulation. Selected few are thrown into the PANIC ROOM simulation. If the person finds their soulmate in the simulator and manages to survive, they are able to rejoin the rest of the population. If they fail they will become a victim of the PANIC ROOM. What happens when (Y/N) gets thrown in the PANIC ROOM? Will she survive? Or will she fall victim to the simulation?

Warnings: Murder, death, depression, angst, suicide warning 

(Y/N)’s POV

The wall slowly closed the gap between Grayson and I and I was trapped in this empty room. My heart began to pound inside my chest and my anxiety spiked extremely. The room was solid white with indents in the walls. I sunk to the floor and placed my head between my knees. How the hell did this happen? I’m never going to see Grayson again. I’m going to die fucking alone. My thoughts ran through my head.

“(Y/F/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N),” A voice echoed through the room.

“Who’s there?,” I questioned.

“Welcome to the second part of the Panic Room simulation that tests the individual strengthens against troubling times. You will be put through some of your biggest fears and saddest memories to see if you can overcome them. If you pass this test, you will be released into a waiting room to see if your partner can make it through as well, if they do you shall be released back to the public but if you shall fail, you will be murdered or you shall become part of the simulation. Outside this room, your darkest fears and follies will push you to your limits. Good luck and God bless America,” the voice echoed off and a door opened to the side of the room.

I stood up and grabbed my bag. It was time to man up and be strong for myself, Grayson, and my mom. I took a deep breath and walked through the doors. The hallway was long and dark. The air was very humid and honestly, it was hard to breathe. I kept walking, even though I had no clue where I was going. My shoes began to feel like they were getting soaked so I looked down. I slowly realized that the floor was filled with water and that water was currently rising. I began picking up my pace as I looked for an outlet out of the hallway. I’ve had a fear of being drowned by water since I was a child due to the fact that I was never properly taught how to swim. My heart pounded against my chest as the water was now up to my knees and I haven’t found any way out of this hallway. It was harder to speed through the hallway as the water rose up higher and higher. My anxiety started getting worse as the water now was up to my chest and it was getting harder to fight through the water. This is how I’m going to die, all alone, in a dark hallway being drowned. As the water rose, I began trying to swim with it up. The water now almost completely filled the hallway and I took one last deep breath before completely submerging underwater. Right before I was going to accept my fate, I noticed a hatch on the ceiling. I swam up towards it and began pulling with all of my strength. The lack of oxygen was starting to affect me as I began slipping in and out of consciousness. I pulled one final time and the hatch door swung open and I was able to breathe again. There was a ladder that led up into what I could only assume was an old manhole that belonged to a sewage system. I climbed the later to the top and pushed the metal cover off and pulled myself out of the hole

When I stood up, I was standing in the middle of the street. Not just any street, the street that my childhood and current home resided. My once soaked clothes were now dry and not tattered anymore. I smelt clean and my hair was nicely done. I walked down the street and noticed the blue Volkswagen bug that used to belong to Mrs.Schmidt before she moved to Florida. It would have been impossible for that buggy to be in that driveway because Mrs.Schmidt moved when I was 15. I then began noticing other small things. The swing set that belonged to the children across the street stood in the front yard was missing and so was their mother’s minivan. Instead, a bright red convertible was parked in the driveway. Before the children were born, their parents were extremely sporty people and loved their sports cars but after the kids were born when I was 14, they switched out their sports cars for something more suitable and safe for their children.

“What year is it?” I thought to myself as I found a lone newspaper on the ground.

The newspaper read: November 26th, 2014, which would’ve made me 13 years old. The date was also very familiar to me but it couldn’t have been. This newspaper had to be old, so I just dropped it back where I found it and continued to walk to my house. As I approached my house, I saw a girl, no taller than 5’0, leaving my house. She closed the door quietly and threw the hood of her hoodie over her head and began to quickly walk away, steering clear of all of the street lights.  

“Hey, why were you at my house and who are you?” I called out loudly to the girl and she didn’t even acknowledge my presence, so I picked up my speed and continued walking after her.

“For real, who are you? I promise I won’t call the cops!” I said as my fast walk slowly began to turn into a jog as the girl began taking more complex turns and staying in the dark.

The girl still continued to ignore me as if I weren’t real or something.

“Okay, this isn’t funny anymore, please answer me,” I said as I was now running to catch up to this girl.  

The girl stopped in her tracks looked back very quickly as if she was checking to make sure that nobody was following her before she continued on her way. In the quick few seconds that she turned around, I was able to recognize who she truly was. The girl that I had been chasing and who walked out of my house was me.

I caught up with myself and found that I had snuck out to the park. The memories flooded back to me as I watched the younger version of myself search around the park.

“Caroline! Where are you? I came to play,” The younger version of myself called out and I desperately tried to stop the younger me from seeing the scene that haunts me every single day. The reason why I never allowed people to get close to me or for me to get close to others. I rounded the corner of the tree and stopped as I saw the younger version of myself frozen with the look of fear etched on her face. The scene in front of us was something that still haunts me to this day.

                             (THROWBACK)

After my father’s death, I refused to leave the house because I wanted to watch after my mother at all times. She went through a huge depressive phase where I would come home from school and find pills scattered across the kitchen island, or I would find a bloody knife followed by bloody footprints. My mother tried to kill herself multiple times but she was never successful. Often she wouldn’t cut deep enough or she would immediately puke up the pills that she swallowed. I tried removing all sharp objects and pills from our house but she always managed to find them. Every time I came home, I would comfort my mother and tell her how much I loved her and that we were going to get through this. One night, after I had gotten my mother to sleep after she had attempted to cut her wrists and bleed out, I needed to get out of the house and get fresh air. I pulled a black hoodie over my clothes and quietly exited the house. I walked to the nearby park and sat down on the swingset. Tears fell down my face as I slowly pushed myself back and forth on the swing. I missed the way things used to be before my dad passed away. I missed when my mother was happy and she would play with me instead of crying herself to sleep every night. I missed when I was able to play like normal kids my age.

“Why are you crying?” A girl around my age sat down beside me on the swingset.

“I’m just sad and lonely,” I said as I stared at my feet as they dragged through the wood chips.

The girl got off of her swing and wrapped her arms around me and rubbed my shoulder in comfort.

“What was that for?” I said as the strange girl pulled away.

“My mother said hugs always make people feel better. I’m Caroline, let’s be friends.” She said as she grabbed my hand and pulled me off the swings.

“I’m (Y/N),” I said with a slight smile on my face. We walked around the park for about an hour just talking and playing until I decided that it was time to head back home. I quietly entered my house and walked upstairs to my bedroom. For once, since my father’s death, I felt happy. I planned to see Caroline the next day and fell asleep feeling like I was normal again. We met up every night around 7:00 and we would hang out for a few hours and then both go home. I told her everything about my mom and my dad and she never judged me. She always supported me and made me feel like I was human. She became my best friend.

A year and a half later, I was getting ready to go hang out with Caroline and my mother went through one of her episodes, so I was running a little on meeting up with Caroline. I finally got my mother settled down and I quietly snuck out of the house and began walking fastly away from the streetlights to get to the park before it was time for Caroline to get home. I approached the park and I didn’t see Caroline at the swings where we always met.

“Caroline! Where are you? I came to play,” I yelled as I walked around the park.

I assumed she would go to our secret spot behind the tree and to the creek so I decided to go there. As I approached the area, I began hearing slight noises so I was positive she was there. When I rounded the corner tree, I froze in my place and my heart dropped to my stomach and my lungs forgot how to breathe. A dark man kneeled over her body, as he pulled a knife from her chest. Her head had rolled over to the side and I saw my best friend’s lifeless eyes and her tattered face and I placed a hand over my mouth and I ran. I ran faster than I ever thought I could run and I ran straight into my house and locked my door and went upstairs to my room. I slid down my door and brought my knees up to my chest and sobbed so hard my whole body shook. I grabbed my trash can and puked my guts up and cried some more. I cried myself to sleep for a whole month. I had lost the one person who I loved more than anyone.

(End of Throwback)

I saw her lifeless body lay there as that man kneeled over her. I saw the younger version of myself run away. I stood there frozen and filled with sadness and anger. The man stood up and dropped the bloody knife in his bag and began to walk away. I ran over to Caroline’s lifeless body and sank to my knees beside her. I pulled her head into my lap and I ran my fingers through her matted hair as tears streamed down my face. Her favorite One Direction shirt was soaked in blood and her once beautiful skin was tainted with bruises and cuts. I held her body in my arms and cried. If I was never late on this day, I could’ve prevented this, I could’ve saved her life. This should be me in her place, she had so much to live for.

“I’m sorry,” I let out with a sob, “I’m so so so sorry Caroline, I failed you.”

I grabbed some of the flowers from the meadow beside the creek and placed them over her body. She always seemed to adore those small flowers. I kissed her forehead and gently sat her head down on the ground. I stood up and grabbed my knife from my backpack. Filled with rage, I walked in the direction of the bastard who did this. I saw him perched up against a rusty dented up car, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

“Hey Bastard,” I said as I approached him and he looked up and my fist collided with the side of his face and he fell to the ground. I got on top of him and continued to punch his face to the point where his blood stained my knuckles and his face was so bloody you could barely tell who he was.

“Who are you?” He asked, his voice trembled.

“Your worst enemy,” I growled as I spotted Caroline’s blood stained on his shirt.

“Please, I don’t even know you, lady, I haven’t done anything to you,” He pleaded as I reached behind me and pulled out my knife from my back pocket.

“Oh but you have, you son of a bitch, and I hope you rot in hell,” I said and plunged the knife deep into his chest. I saw the fear in his eyes as he began stuttering for air. I plunged the knife back in his chest and I repeated this action. I closed my eyes and continued to stab his lifeless body. I saw him murdering Caroline over and over again in my head and I felt his blood splatter against me. I pulled the knife out of his chest and sat it down beside me. I opened my eyes and my whole heart dropped and it felt like the world was spinning. The man who killed my best friend was no longer there and in his place was the love of my life.

“Gr-Gr-Gray,” I let out a small sob and pushed his matted hair from his forehead. His lifeless brown eyes stared into my own and I started to attempt to do CPR. His blood was all over my body and the knife laid beside his body.

“NO, PLEASE, YOU CAN NOT LEAVE ME, GRAYSON I NEED YOU,” I sobbed as I continued to do compressions. Nothing happened, and I gave up. I laid my head on his lifeless chest and sobbed. His once calming heartbeat was absent. My whole body shook as the sobs raked through my body.

“What have I done?” I muttered under my breath. I reached for his once warm hands and brought it up to my lips. I kissed his hands and placed a kiss on his cold lifeless lips. My tears fell on his face. I took a deep breath and picked up the knife that laid beside him. The same knife that I thought I killed Caroline’s murder with but instead it was my lover, my soulmate, the one person who completed me and made me feel like I belonged. I looked at it and only one solution ran through my head.

“I’ll be with you soon baby,” I said through the tears and raised the knife up towards me but before I could plunge it through my heart someone tackled me.

Grayson’s POV

As I was waiting for (Y/N) to walk through those doors, I paced up and down the room. I sat down and placed my head between my knees and began to pray in hopes that it would work. I heard the doors open and my head immediately shot up expecting to see her walk through the doors. I expected to wrap her in my arms and kiss her all over her face and lips and tell her how much I truly love her. I expected us to walk out hand in hand and go see our families and tell them that we were safe and introduce them to us. But when that door opened, she didn’t walkthrough. I got up and walked to the door and looked down the dark hallway. I heard a faint sob that sounded like (Y/N)’s and I took off running through the hall towards the sound. I got closer and closer and finally, I turned into a room and there she was kneeling on the ground sobbing and holding a knife.

“I’ll be with you soon baby,” She said and lifted the knife up as she was going to plunge it in her heart. My heart dropped and I reacted quickly. I tackled her and grabbed the knife from her hands and I threw it across the room. I held her in my arms as I felt her whole body shake from her sobs. She looked up and her eyes filled with hope and her face changed.

“Grayson?” She questioned.

(Y/N)’s POV

I was tackled before I could plunge the knife in my heart and the knife was yanked from my hands and thrown across the room. A pair of arms brought me close to their chest and just held on to me as sobs raked through my body. When I looked up, my heart began to beat again. Grayson was right there and alive and he was holding me and he was real.

“Grayson?” I questioned.

“Yeah baby girl, it’s me, I’m right here,” He said and placed his lips on mine. I kissed back and wrapped my arms around his neck. Tears continued to fall down my eyes. I pulled away and looked over to where Grayson’s once dead body laid and it was gone.

“You are here, thank god. I thought you were dead, I thought I killed you,” I said through my tears as I kissed him again.

“I’m right here baby, and I’m going nowhere. You are stuck with me for the rest of your life because I love you (Y/F/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N) so much and I will love you till the day I die. Now let’s get out of here so that we can see our families again.” Grayson said as he grabbed my hand and pulled me up. We held hands as we walked back through the hallway and to the exit.

———————————————————————

Chapter nine is done! I hope you guys enjoy this series as much as I enjoy writing it. Feel free to let me know your thoughts on how the series is going so far. As always let me know if you have any requests, concepts, or blurbs. Chapter ten will probably be up in the next few days. Part tenof The Principals Office should be up within the next couple of days as well. Sorry for my inactivity lately, I promise I’ll be better about posting. Love you guys 🥺😊💛

Tags: @dolanshellyes @graysavant @graydolan12 @flowery-dolan @dolan-bliss @justordinaryjen @dickdowndolan @dolans4lyfe @lanelessdolan @pineappledols @reblogserpent @frickin-bats @cautiouscalum @grays-laugh @youtuberimagines12 @minecraftgamerr @wrcn9fvlcver @buildermangray @highoffdolan @beautorigin

[1heartfanfics]

Hi I love your OC’s characters (sorry I’m not full up to date with the characters mental health) were one of the characters has a panic attack (with dizziness, nausea,headache ect) and there parter takes care of them. I’m writing this request just after I had a panic attack. (sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes.)

thanks for the request anon, I hope you’re okay!! Several of my characters have panic attacks: Zayn occasionally, although not very often now (more so when he was younger), Kaiser is pretty easily freaked out, Tayden suffers from PTSD which gives him a different form of panic attacks than what most people have, Nathan has them sometimes as well, especially when waking up from nightmares.

I have another request for Tay and Juli, and I write a lot of Nath already, so I’m gonna do this one for Kaiser. 

TW: depictions of vomit and panic attacks

Also, disclaimer: everyone experiences panic attacks differently. So this fic is a representation of one way that a panic attack can manifest itself. If you experience them differently that’s totally okay I’m not trying to invalidate anyone or anything, it’s just something that depends on the person. But i’m not trying to offend anyone or say that this is the only way that they go.

Jackson should’ve known that going to the fair was a bad idea. Roller coasters made him super sick, Kaiser’s stomach was too sensitive to eat anything they sold at them, and Kaiser hated crowds of people. 

In hindsight, Jackson realized, this had been an incredibly stupid decision. But all their friends had wanted to go. It had been Hazel’s idea, which Zayn and Julius had automatically been excited about since they love riding the coasters, so Andrew and Tayden were automatically included as well. So Jackson and Kaiser had agreed to go too, because they didn’t all get to hang out that often. 

But now here they were. Jackson had thrown up after the first ride he’d done with Kaiser and Hazel. A few more rides had Zayn heaving up his guts and Nathan looking pretty green as well. Tayden and Jules had wondered off on their own to avoid the puking, for Tayden’s sake. 

To make matters worse, the park had filled up immensely since they’d arrived. The sidewalks were packed and the lines were miles long. They’d decided to head back towards the entrance to find something to eat, but they were having to fight the crowd to get through.

“Jaz?” Kaiser said, leaning close to Jackson. 

“We’re almost there babe, just hang on,” Jackson said, squeezing Kaiser’s hand, which was white-knuckled gripping his own. 

“Hazel how much farther?” he called up to where Nathan and Hazel were pushing through the mobs of people.

“I’m not sure,” she called over her shoulder, narrowly avoiding an elbow to the face from a passing couple. This was crazy. 

“I can’t- get me out of here!” Kaiser cried, voice breaking.

“Alright, alright, get behind me,” Jackson pulled his boyfriend behind him, reaching back to place a hand on his waist, “Hold on to me and close your eyes,” he instructed. 

Kaiser grabbed onto Jackson’s shirt with one hand, placing his other one on his shoulder. Jackson did his best to hold onto Kaiser and navigate the crowd at the same time, but he was losing their friends, getting farther behind as he was shoved by passing people. 

The jerking motions and the summer heat were making him feel nauseous all over again and he could hear Kaiser’s erratic breathing from behind him. They needed to get out of here, now. 

“Hey Andrew!” Jackson yelled to the closest person to them. 

Andrew turned around, “You guys alright back there?” 

“No,” Jackson shook his head, coming to a stop when Kaiser stumbled behind him, falling against Jackson’s back. He quickly spun around to catch him as he let out a sob. 

“Woah, shit, what’s going on?” Andrew asked, shoving his way over to them.

“Jaz, my head, ahg,” Kaiser cried, eyes squeezed tightly shut with tears pouring down his cheeks. Jackson held him against his chest, shielding him from the crowd. 

“He’s having a panic attack. Claustrophobic,” Jackson explained.

“Alright, you’re okay buddy just keep your eyes closed,” Andrew said, moving to stand beside Jackson to block him from anyone passing on his other side. 

“We have to get him out of here,” Jackson said. 

“I can’t breath-” Kaiser slumped forwards against Jackson’s chest, his legs giving out from under him as the world spun. His head pounded and spun and he felt like his chest was being compressed. There were so many people, too many. Too many. 

“Kaiser, it’s Andrew. I’m gonna help Jackson get you out of here, is it alright if I touch you?” Andrew asked. He’d helped Zayn through a panic attack or two so he knew it was important to ask before doing anything. 

“Mmhm,” Kaiser groaned out a sound that sounded enough like an affirmation for Andrew. He grabbed Kaiser’s wrist and pulled his arm around his shoulders to prop him up. Jackson caught on quickly and did the same so he was supported between them. 

“Alright, eyes closed baby, we’ve got you,” Jackson said as they began to walk.

They both had to lean over, since Kaiser was shorter than them, but they were able to turn their bodies inward slightly to shield him from the swarm of people opposing them. With both of them helping, they were able to shove their way through the crowd and to the entrance of the park. They didn’t stop until they were in the parking lot, away from all the people. 

Jackson would’ve taken him straight to the car, but Kaiser started tugging his arms away from them. “I’m gonna throw up,” he gasped, pitching forwards to vomit onto the concrete. He would’ve fallen face first into the mess if Jackson hadn’t grabbed him around the waist. Kaiser’s head was still spinning from the lack of oxygen. 

“You’re okay, it’s over now. It’s just us,” Jackson said softly, trying to reassure him. 

Jackson helped Kaiser straighten up once he was finished being sick, then gently led him to the curb and helped him sit. He slumped over, head between his knees as his vision swam. Jackson and Andrew sat on either side of him, a hand on his back. 

“Just focus on breathing Kai, we’ve got you, you’re safe,” Jackson said quietly. 

Andrew had texted their friends to let them know what was happening, so they were shortly joined by the rest of the group. Tayden and Julius kept their distance, since Jackson and Kaiser had now both been sick today, but everyone else gathered around in worry. Andrew shooed them all away though, not wanting to crowd the boy again. 

“You ready to head home baby?” Jackson asked when Kaiser sat up and leaned against his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled sadly, wiping at the tears on his cheeks. 

“It’s okay,” Jackson said, reaching over to wipe the tears away himself. Then he stood up, offering his hands to Kaiser, helping him up to his feet. He kept a hand around his waist, not sure how steady he was, as they walked back to their cars. 

“I hate the fair,” Kaiser mumbled, rubbing his stomach, which still felt a little shook up.

“We don’t ever have to go to another fair again,” Jackson chuckled lightly, rubbing at his own stomach, which was slightly upset again after watching his boyfriend throw up. They’d never make this mistake again. 

[tetrakys]

idk if someone send you that request but it obviously matches Armin: 43, 42 & 52

42. “Just let me finish this/this level and I swear I’ll go down on you until you cum at least three times.” & 43. “If I have to stop what I’m doing, you won’t be able to walk for the next week.” & 52. “I’m not jealous! It’s just…you’re mine!”

I’m sorry honey this took me only what… four/five months? 😅 hope it was worth the wait.

I needed something quick and dirty with UL Armin and I remembered this prompt request. I know there’s probably only 3 people here who may be interested in this, so @itsmymindspeaking and @fuckyalllifes this is for us 😂

.

I chugged my drink in one go, a little dizziness coming to my head. I had spent good part of the night drinking and I was feeling just a little tipsy. It wasn’t like I was bored, I was out with my friends after all, but I wasn’t having the time of my life either.

I looked at Alexy and Morgan kissing passionately without a care in the world, and then at Rosa and Leigh, looking at each other with a complicity that anyone would’ve envied.

Then I looked at the empty seat right next to me.

“Is everything all right, Candy?” Rosa asked, sensing my discomfort. “It’s about Armin, isn’t it? Where is he, anyway? It feels like I haven’t seen him in ages.”

“Where do you think?” I replied without managing to hide the annoyance from my voice. “In his dorm room of course. He’s been holed up in there since the beginning of spring break.”

“Wait… he’s not… no it can’t be… is he spending the holidays playing video games 24/7?”

“Of course he is!” Alexy replied before I’d time to say anything. He must’ve caught our conversation between one kiss and the next. “Yesterday morning I left him sitting in front of the tv playing that stupid co-op game he likes so much, and that’s exactly where I found him this evening before we came here. I’m not even surprised, I gave up on him years ago.” He turned back in his seat, looking at Morgan adoringly. “Luckily, I don’t have to suffer through the night because of his constant jabbering with his geek friends, I’ve found a more comfortable accommodation. If I’m kept up all night is for completely different and more pleasurable reasons.”

After those words he started kissing Morgan again, abandoning the rest of the conversation.

“Well,” Rosa went on, “this isn’t right. You can’t let him take you for granted, Candy. Do something!”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know… try to make him jealous.”

“Ha! You know that won’t work. He’s the least possessive person on the face of the Earth.” I replied a little defeated.

“Then remind him what he’s missing out on by spending the whole time in front of a screen instead of his girlfriend!”

“Meaning? You know that I won’t be able to tempt him with a date. The times we go out, he does it just to please me, if it were for him we would spend the whole day in his room playing games. And don’t get me wrong, I love playing with him, it’s just that sometimes I need more, like…” I hesitated, “I don’t know, I feel like a spoiled child just saying this but… sometimes I just want his undivided attention.”

“Then take it!”

“How?”

She looked at me like I was stupid.

“You’re a woman, it’s not that hard to figure out. Do I need to check your underwear like in high school?”

“There’s no need. But… are you suggesting using my body to beg him for attention? Isn’t it a little too desperate?” I asked biting my lip nervously.

“Aren’t you? Desperate?” she replied ironically. “Look, it’s not that big of deal, really. Even I… you know how Leigh can get sometimes,” she looked at him queuing at the bar to get us a refill. “He’s so passionate about his work. Sometimes I need to remind him to take a break,” she laughed.

“Mmm…” I replied evasively. Her words weren’t completely unreasonable. I was a strong, modern woman, if I wanted something, I just had to take it. I’m a woman hear me roar and all that…

Maybe… maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

—

 “Be careful…  On your right! No! Fuck! It’s a grenade!”

I was leaning against the doorframe as I stared at my boyfriend, willing him to take notice of me. He was sitting down on the floor, back against the bed, wearing only his boxer shorts and a t-shirt. Controller in his hands, his eyes fixed on the big screen in front of him. I could hear the muffled voices of his teammates coming from the headphones he was wearing.

I’d let myself in thanks to my spare keys ten minutes ago, and since then I’d been waiting for him to strike a conversation with me. A distracted “Hi babe,” was everything that I’d gotten so far.

I thought again about Rosa’s suggestion. Was I really going to do this? Yes, yes I was. It was time to send the message through.

I started from my shoes, removing one at the time, then it was my t-shirt’s turn. I thought it was going to take longer for him to take notice of what was going on, but he must’ve caught the garment dropping to the floor with the corner of his eye, because he sent me a quick glance, surprised, and asked, “what are you doing, babe?”

“Just making myself comfortable,” I replied, as my hands went to the zip of my jeans.

I continued undressing seemingly without a care in the world, and he kept playing, but I could tell he wasn’t as focused as he’d been before. He kept throwing quick glances my way whenever he had a chance.

Soon enough I was left in just my underwear, but I didn’t stop, and went for the clasp of my bra.

“Fuck!” he cried out, he’d clearly messed up something in the game the moment my bra had come off and he’d stared at my breasts one second too long. I could hear irate voices coming from his headphones. “Just let me finish this level and I swear I’ll go down on you until you cum at least three times,” he said in an almost pleading voice.

I simply shook my head as with slow, calculating movements, I slipped my fingers under the hem of my panties and let them fall to the floor.

A horse groan came directly from his throat. “If I have to stop what I’m doing, you won’t be able to walk for the next week.” He tried to sound authoritative, failing miserably. “Please…”

“Keep playing, Armin.” I said walking towards him.

Without giving him any time to realise what I was about to do, I kneeled on the floor and forced my way between his arms, straddling him.

“Candy,” he cried out a little panicked, his hands almost losing their grip on the controller, “what…”

“Shhh…” I whispered in his ear. “Keep playing, not a sound, otherwise your friends are going to figure out something is going on.”

After these words, I started languidly kissing his neck. From the stiffness of his body, around which I was completely enveloped, I knew he was shocked and didn’t know exactly what to do. His shallow breaths were also an indication of his nervousness, and if the angry voices I could hear yelling at him from his headphones weren’t indication enough of the fact that he was pretty distracted, only half concentrating on the game, the hard length pressing against my core would’ve definitely been a telling hint.

“Fuck!” he groaned the moment I lowered the hem of his boxer briefs and took him in my hand. A couple of short, tentative strokes.

“MadHatter what the hell!” I heard someone yelling, and I knew Armin was finding more and more difficult to concentrate. Without wasting any more time, I lowered myself onto him, filling me to the hilt.

“Shhh…” I whispered again, as he started making a series of unintelligible sounds. “Don’t even think about muting the mic. Eyes on that screen and play, I know how important it is to you.”

I started riding him slowly, almost excruciatingly slow. I knew I was making him go completely crazy. My hands where at each side of his head, holding the bed frame. No other parts of our bodies were touching, except for our cores, and my nipples rubbing against his still clothed chest, every time I moved up and down.

“Candy… Fuck… I can’t… this is too hot…”

I knew he’d dropped the controller the moment I felt both of his hands on my ass, as he started guiding my movements faster and deeper. The irate protests of his teammates coming from the headphones signalled he’d just left out of the blue in the middle of the game. Everyone was probably getting slaughtered by the other team, but he didn’t seem to care. He took my lips with his and gave me a hungry, mind-blowing kiss.

Our movements got wilder, the pace almost brutal, punishing. I was throwing all my anger into it and, at the same time, he was taking everything and demanding even more, his fingers probably leaving ten small bruises on the skin of my ass cheeks. I was sure we would either pass out soon due to lack of oxygen or seriously hurt ourselves.

A few minutes later, when he took one of my nipples in his mouth and sucked it roughly, I came completely undone, crying out his name as he spent himself inside me.

“I don’t know what I did to make you so angry,” he said after a while, as we both caught our breaths, “but I should probably do it more often.”

“Or maybe you should just pay me some fucking attention,” I retorted. “Instead of playing with your online friends all the time. And then, maybe, you would get fucked senseless more often.”

He moved his head so that now he was looking at me in the eye with his signature jokester smile. “Are you jealous, babe?”

I grabbed his hair, pulling maybe a little more roughly than necessary. “I’m not jealous! It’s just…you’re mine!”

“That, I am.” Without losing his hold on me, he got up and threw me onto the bed.

“Armin what the…”

“I told you, didn’t I? If I had to stop playing, you wouldn’t be able to walk for a week.” He cheekily, replied as he took off his t-shirt and underwear and joined me on the bed.

He didn’t go back online until the end of spring break.

[jaroslavlewis]

Blood Bond (For Detective Conan Week 2017)

Detective Conan Week 2017, Day 1 [August 21]-Scarlet, Favorite BROTP

Title: Blood Bond

Author: Jaroslav Lewis

Fandom: Detective Conan

Pairing: Heiji and Shinichi (HeiShin)

Summary: Sometimes, a punch in the face is all that takes to show someone you care.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Detective Conan or any of Gosho Aoyama’s characters. I simply kidnap them when I’m bored and make them binge watch K-dramas with me. Don’t worry I make popcorn for them too.

They say first impressions last, but for Kudo Shinichi this was not the case for when he met Hattori Heiji. The first time he met him, he was sure as hell that he wanted to punch the detective of the west in the face, that is, if he weren’t in his Conan state. The guy seemed like the type who would clash with him a lot. He was aggressive, impulsive and not to mention, so full of himself. Something about him irked Shinichi. His presence felt intimidating in a lot of ways, mostly because he was kind of annoying but also because he seemed pretty interesting as well.

As time passed Shinichi and Heiji shared a bond more than just rivalry. It was an odd kind of relationship the two of them never expected to transpire. After their first encounter, Shinichi couldn’t get Heiji out of his hair. Somehow he wished he would just stay out of his way, not knowing that he’d needing him a lot more often than he should. Soon, he figured that he actually liked having the guy around.

Shinichi always had Ran and Sonoko other than that he also had Nakamichi and his other peers. He had Teitan’s Soccer Team but Hattori Heiji…

Hattori Heiji was special. The thought made him cringe but it was true. Heiji was the missing puzzle piece in his life, the only one who fully understood his passion for mysteries and detective work. It was weird and cheesy in a way, but Heiji had filled the void in Shinichi’s deduction geek heart.

Throughout the years, he realized the guy was not an annoying rival he’d want off of his tail. The guy was the brother he never had and he couldn’t be more grateful that he came into his life. The feeling of annoyance and intimidation had become lost in all the bond and friendship.

Shinichi never again thought of punching Heiji in the face.

That was until it happened…

It had to be done, but of course, Shinichi still hated that he had to do it. The detective of the west stared at him with a half-startled, half-angry expression as he remained, sitting on the floor where he stumbled after he had taken the detective of the east’s strong blow. He never expected Shinichi to have such a force. Of course he knew, the guy was strong but Shinichi had always been a lot “softer” than he was. Contrary to Heiji’s aggressiveness, Shinichi had always took a calmer approach to things, but when desperate times call for desperate measures, he sure can very well make some adjustments.

Sapphire eyes pierced through emerald orbs as Shinichi mustered all the courage to look at his friend. His cheek was bruised and scarlet liquid dripped from his cut lip, both injuries came from Shinichi’s fist. Like Heiji, he was also in a state of shock. He never once thought he’d ever take his friend down. With skills in Kendo, Heiji had always been strong, maybe a lot stronger than he was. Shinichi couldn’t understand how he did it. Everything happened so fast. There was a lot of panicking and a lot of thinking. He had to act fast and adrenaline kicked it.

Silence filled the room as the Osaka prefecture police officers left the two of them to talk. Shinichi heaved an exhausted sigh as he tried to keep his breathing steady and his shaking hands still.  His heart was pumping hard in his chest due to the adrenaline and possibly because of fear.

He didn’t want to admit to himself but he was afraid of what happened, of the Hattori Heiji that he saw earlier. It was a sight he never once thought he’d ever see in his life. It was a sight tattooed in his mind that he wished he could undo.

It was bad idea but for the sake of investigation, the officers had to bring Heiji in to see the suspect. It has been a month since Heiji temporarily left his detective job for personal reasons, roughly two months since the assault and the car accident that caused Kazuha’s miscarriage. It took some time but they were able to piece the case together. And so there Heiji sat in the interrogation room, in front of the suspect. Shinichi stood by Heiji’s side just in case things went haywire. Osaka prefecture police force also stood outside the interrogation room for security.

The suspect easily admitted to the crime and was charged for illegal gun possession and attempted murder. The guy showed no regret on what he did. He had the audacity to look into the eyes of the young man he assaulted and he even laughed manically as if to provoke him.

“Why? Why her?” Heiji asked. His tone rose as he clenched his fist and tried to hold back from doing anything violent to the man he so much despised.

“I wanted to make you feel what I felt!” The man retorted as he stood from his seat and slammed his fist on the table. Shinichi immediately shifted his position so he was in between as the mediator. “I wanted to make you suffer and make you wish you were dead.”

Shinichi held his arm by Heiji’s shoulder to remind him to control himself. Heiji’s fist closed tighter and tighter as he struggled to keep his composure. The suspect’s words rang in his ears loudly. Events from the incident flooded his head. The image of Kazuha crying because of the miscarriage flashed in his mind in an instant.

And that was when he lost it. Heiji stood from his seat and shoved Shinichi’s hand out of the way. He pushed the table aside violently so that he could easily cross the little space between him and the suspect. He roughly pulled him by the collar and pushed him to the wall. The suspect gave him a sinister grin and showed no fear. The man was sick and loved seeing the look on Heiji’s face and so he decided to provoke him even more.

“You should actually thank me, you know. I went easy on her. She’s still alive isn’t she? But poor innocent baby’s all gone now even before she had the chance to come into this world and it’s all your fault you couldn’t protect her.” The suspect chuckled evilly. Heiji’s grip on the man’s collar loosened only so that he shifted his hand from the man’s shirt collar to the man’s neck in attempt to suffocate him.

“Oi! Hattori!” Shinichi shouted as he tried to get Heiji to let go of the man but Heiji shrugged his hold off easily.

‘It’s your fault you couldn’t protect her.’ His words rang in his ears and Heiji lost it entirely. His grip on the guy’s neck tightened as anger and hurt flooded his heart.

He had been keeping it together, for the past few weeks, pretending that he was fine and immediately getting by. Kazuha has had it worse and he needed to be strong for her. He swallowed all hurt, all anger and frustrations and tried to get it through his days. On nights he stayed awake blaming himself for everything.

He lived through his days despite the fact that he was slowly dying with every moment he saw Kazuha hurt because of their loss. He was hurt and mourning, but he bottled it up inside him, because he had no right to be hurt. Kazuha has had it worse.

But he has had it. He snapped. Like a ticking time bomb, he exploded.

His eyes were cold with anger as he looked into the suspect’s eyes who showed so much satisfaction in what he was seeing. He wanted revenge. He wanted to see Heiji fall hard enough to turn him into a heartless monster and he seemed to have succeeded. He wasn’t done with him though.

“You detectives don’t know about what it feels like to die. And you all wonder what it feels like to want to kill someone. Looks like now, I gave you an idea of what it’s like. Go ahead. Do it.” The guy managed to say despite how hard Heiji was choking him. All reason and self-control he has had over the years in his detective job was all thrown into the edge at an instant. Heiji tightened his grip even more, almost breaking the guy’s neck. He could’ve killed him until…

A strong force grabbed Heiji by the back collar of his blazer. In a blink of an eye he was dragged away from the suspect and spun around, only to be punched right in the face by the detective of the east himself.

“Stop it, Hattori!” Shinichi shouted as he stumbled on the floor. The suspect had also fallen on the floor due to lack of oxygen. Police officers had unlocked the door to the interrogation room to prevent anymore ruckus from happening. They took the suspect out, away from Heiji and with that, Heiji and Shinichi were left alone in the interrogation room have a serious talk.

The silence seemed to go on forever. Heiji looked right back at the detective of the east who had a serious but soft expression on his face. Shinichi shook his head in disappointment as he sighed, but approached him and held out his hand to help him stand up.

“Just let me be, Kudo.” Heiji muttered as he swatted Shinichi’s hand away, the same hand that had punched him right in the face. Shinichi was taken aback, but somehow anticipated such reaction.

“If you’re mad because-“

“Just leave me alone.” He demanded coldly as he cut Shinichi off.

“Hattori…”  

“Just fuck off, Kudo!” He shouted harshly, taking out all of his anger on his friend. “Stop acting like you know everything because you don’t understand!”

Shinichi was tongue-tied with Heiji’s retort. He found it unfair that Heiji had decided to take his anger on him, but he was mature enough to understand. Furthermore, he is Heiji’s friend and he decided that he was more than willing to take all his anger and pain, if it means it would make Heiji feel better, if it means that it would make Heiji’s emotional baggage lighter. If they had been younger, he would’ve retorted and shouted back at him. But years have already passed. He and Heiji were no longer seventeen years old. A lot has already happened through their years of friendship and he wasn’t gonna let it end badly.

“You’re right. I don’t have any idea what you’re feeling right now.” He admitted. Heiji was startled by his friend’s composure. Sure, Kudo had always been calmer than he was but after the outburst earlier he expected another punch from him. “But here’s what I know… Elle’s gone and killing the suspect wouldn’t bring her back. It wouldn’t make Kazuha feel better. It wouldn’t make you feel better either.”

Shinichi’s words struck him and brought reason back. He was usually stubborn with arguments. Back when they were seventeen, he wouldn’t let anyone win against him, especially if it was Kudo who had won over him. They were friends, but there was always a little competition between them. It always hurt his pride when Kudo was right. But it was different now. The detective of the east was talking more and more sense to him. And so, he remained seated on the floor with his back pressed against the wall and listened as his friend stood in front of him.

“Maybe I don’t understand anything, but I wouldn’t let you do anything stupid, Hattori…” He said sternly before he turned his heel to leave him. Heiji watched as Shinichi approached the door. The detective of the east, paused on his tracks. “When you’re ready, go to the police department’s clinic to get your wounds treated.”

Heiji  sat in the interrogation room for a few minutes in silence, thinking, before he decided to come out to get his bruise and wound treated, he was surprised however when Shinichi’s wife came in with a first aid kit, as if on cue.

“N-neechan…” Heiji mumbled, startled by her presence. Mouri Ran gave her old friend a warm smile as she settled the first aid kit on the table and sat on a chair in front of him.

“I hope you don’t mind, Hattori-kun. Shinichi sent me, but if you prefer the nurses in the clinic, it’s okay.” She said thoughtfully.

“N-no. It’s okay. Besides, going down there would be more of a hassle.” He said as he sat beside her so she could treat his injuries.

Ran brought out some cotton balls and swabs, gauzes, tweezers, betadine and disinfectant. Heiji watched as she set up. Ran shifted her position so she was facing him. She put disinfectant on a cotton ball which she held using tweezers. She moved her hand and reached out to lightly dab the cotton on Heiji’s wound by the corner of his lips. Heiji flinched at the cold, stinging sensation the disinfectant had on his cut skin.

“Sorry. It’s gonna hurt a little. But hold still okay?” She said in a calm tone. Heiji figured, Ran always had that such a motherly feel with the people around her and it wasn’t just with kids or kids who aren’t actually kids like, Conan for the matter. Ran was very genuinely caring with everyone, even with people her age and even with people older than her. And he knew exactly why Shinichi sent her.

“I’m sorry Shinichi punched you.” She said sincerely as she pulled her hand away to replace the cotton with a new clean one. She put poured an amount of betadine on it and then reached out to dab the cotton on Heiji’s wound again.

“It’s okay.” Heiji said with an understanding expression on his face. “He had to do what he had to do.”

Ran simply replied with a nod, understanding what he meant.

“He could’ve gone easy on you though…” She joked as she inspected the scarlet patch on the corner of lips and the purple patch right next to it.

“I was surprised. I didn’t know he could throw quite a punch.” He chuckled softly, lightening the mood between them. Ran giggled before he took the betadine-drenched cotton away from Heiji’s face only to reach out to grab an adhesive bandage to place it gently on Heiji’s wound.

“I hope you’re not mad at him. He only means well, Hattori-kun…” Ran explained calmly. Heiji nodded in response.

“I have no hard feelings, don’t worry.” He told her.  He then paused and stared into space as they both went silent for a while. Ran started arranging the first aid kit as she thought of something to say.

“Do you think, Kudo’s mad at me?” He asked, a bit hesitantly as if he felt embarrassed for asking the question. His tone was soft and calm with a hint of worry.  Ran turned her attention to the detective of the west and gave him an assuring smile.

“He’s not mad at you. He’s just worried about you.” She said sincerely. Heiji couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

“He doesn’t say it all the time, but he’s thankful for all the times you looked after him and he wants to look after you too.” She added as she zipped the first aid kit up and stood up. Heiji was silent as he watched her stand. He processed her words in his head and he smiled to himself. He figured it felt nice to have someone care for him. It had been so long since someone had tried to look after him.

“Well, you’re all good, but remember to put an icepack on that bruise okay? I’ll just leave you for a while.” She said, making him snap out of his thoughts before she left and closed the door behind her.

Shinichi stood by the door outside the interrogation room, staring at the dried blood on his knuckles. Heiji’s blood had left a scarlet stain on his pale skin that was quite hard to rub off. It was like the memory of him strangling the suspect. It was hard for Shinichi to just forget. The look on Heiji’s eyes was threatening to look at. It was as if he had been possessed. Shinichi shuddered at the thought. He never once thought he’d see Heiji in such state.

It didn’t take long for Shinichi to snap out from his thoughts as soon as Ran came out of the interrogation room. He gave her a worried smile and she gave him a pat on the back and told him to come inside to talk to Heiji. Shinichi nodded and did he was told.

“Hey.” He greeted awkwardly as he placed his hands in his pockets and closed the door with his leg. Heiji remained seated and darted his green eyes towards him.

“Hey.” He greeted back, acknowledging Shinichi’s presence.

“The suspect is now under the custody of the police.  They took him to the clinic to check his vital signs. He was fine. Everything’s taken care of. There will be arrangements regarding the hearing. Ran will represent you and Kazuha in court as your lawyer. We’ll inform you about the further details as soon as everything’s fixed.” Shinichi informed him before he casually took a seat next to Heiji who nodded at his news.

“So… How are you?” Shinichi asked. Heiji gaped at him as if he knew the meaning behind the question.

“I’m not forcing you to talk. Just a short, honest answer would do.” Shinichi said calmly as a detective. He had been very skillful at reading people and at knowing how to handle them. But at that moment he knew he wasn’t just a detective. He was also Heiji’s friend and he had to know what was going on. He wasn’t gonna play the detective game to figure him out. Heiji could be a little difficult at times. He always put on a strong façade.  His push-forward attitude had always been admirable but sometimes, it got in the way of showing people the truth about himself and about what he was truly feeling.

Heiji was always protective of other people even if there was no one else to protect him. He would always put on a strong façade for others because his mindset is always on their well-being. He hated being weak but more than that, he hated showing it to others, even to people who are important to him. Most especially to people who are important to him.

But Shinichi figured, the tough-act was not healthy for Heiji anymore. Heiji was always saving others but sometimes, he needed some saving too.                          

“He wanted to make me wish that I was dead. Well, congratulations to him. He has done a good job at it.” Heiji spoke honestly as he looked into his friends sapphire eyes. His expression was hurt and exhausted almost like he was done and had already accepted defeat. It was unlikely of him, definitely a different side of him, but it was very much human.

“I’m tired, Kudo.” He sighed, admitting the whole truth. There was a hint of desperation in his voice. His shoulders slumped as he waited for the axe to fall but instead he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked at Shinichi who had scooted closer to him.

“It’s not your fault, Hattori.” He said. Heiji shook his head in refusal.

“It’s not your fault.” Shinichi repeated sternly. He was willing to say it over and over again for him until he believed it and he said it not because he wanted to make him feel better but because it was the truth. But he knew Heiji refused to believe so and had been beating himself up for what happened.

“Thank you.” He said gratefully. He knew it would take some time for him to fully heal, but it was all the words he needed to hear. For the past months since the incident, he had been waiting for someone to say it to him. And there Shinichi was giving him such assurance.

His eyes darted to the scarlet patch on Shinichi’s fist.

The color scarlet had always been associated with love. Heiji always begged to disagree. After several crime scenes that had transpired in his years as a detective, scarlet had become a color he could easily associate with blood, murder and all violent things in the cruel world. Scarlet for him was a vile color. It should in no way be associated with something as beautiful as love. But when he saw the scarlet on Kudo’s fist, he figured it was the game changer for him.

A.N. This fanfic was something I had in mind after I wrote the KazuHei one shot “Clouds and Sun Ray” as my opening entry for the 30 Kisses challenge. I wanted to include this in the story but the one shot itself was already too long. So, I made a separate story for it and decided to post it for Day 1 of Detective Conan Week under the option, favorite brotp. Also notice that my favorite character also did a cameo here. Hahaha!  So yeah, I sort of hit two birds with one stone.

Anyway, for those who couldn’t understand what happened, Kazuha and Heiji lost their baby due to a miscarriage that happened because of a car accident that was caused by the guy Heiji strangled in this story. If you guys want to have better context on what happened feel free to read “Clouds and Sunray” here.

I’m sorry if this was a little late (at least here in the Philippines ‘coz it’s almost 1 am here). I’m not sure if I did a good job in this. I wrote this the whole day and I did have a difficult time writing the dialogue. Huhu I’m sorry if it had some grammatical or typographical errors. I wasn’t able to proofread it anymore coz I was rushing. TT_TT

I hope I gave justice to HeiShin. It’s my first time writing about them. I wanted to come up with a scenario wherein Shinichi would be the one rushing to Heiji’s aid. I noticed that he owes Heiji bigtime with all the things Heiji has done for him. *coughs* Desperate Revival *coughs *Head to Head Match with the Black Organization *coughs *Murderer, Kudo Shinichi *coughs* Kyoto Arc and the list goes on.

Happy Detective Conan Week 2017 everyone! <3

Love,

~ J

[junker-town]

Wendell Carter Jr. actually needs to be more selfish for the Bulls

The center is fighting for confidence in his second season.

This summer, Wendell Carter Jr. watched every play from his rookie season. Every shot. Every decision. Every mistake.

It was a disappointing first year. The Chicago Bulls lost 60 games, and their offense stagnated when Carter was on the court, scoring five fewer points per 100 possessions than the league’s worst attack. He shot an icy 48.5 percent from the field and failed to spark the same type of optimism as other big men in his draft class.

Thumb surgery ended Carter’s season after 44 games, but injuries (including a sore abdominal muscle that was operated on in July) were only part of the problem. Unselfish almost to a fault, the player Carter saw on film lacked confidence in areas of the game that used to come naturally. Too often he’d defer. Instead of turning to a low-post move he spent hours baking into his repertoire, he’d pass out to a teammate. One particular sequence (though he couldn’t remember the opponent) rolls around in his head to this day: Carter catches a pass at the elbow, and instead of lining his eyes up with the rim he scans the floor for an open teammate until the shot clock expires.

“The man that was guarding me was almost underneath the rim,” Carter says. “It would’ve been an easy 12-foot jump shot. I’m sure I would’ve made it. But I didn’t even take a chance.” Carter does not rely on points to influence a basketball game, but no player can ascend in the NBA without self-belief. This season is about him finding it.

To be a megastar at the center position requires a certain mentality Carter might not have. That’s OK. Not everyone can be Joel Embiid, Karl-Anthony Towns, or Anthony Davis. But as the seventh overall pick in the 2018 draft, Carter flaunts similar skills — he’s a smooth roll man with solid low-post moves and a reliable jump shot — while filling holes on the floor that his teammates either cause or can’t see. Some of his contributions are understated, and others make you wonder how many All-Defensive teams he’ll crack over the next 15 years. Carter is light on his feet with great anticipation, and those who challenge him at the rim tend to regret it.

The league is short on players who can do the same things Carter does. He is tractor-pull strong with touch, speed, an appetite for basketball-related violence, and a copacetic feel for what his team wants to accomplish on every play. His chest is as wide as a refrigerator. Chicago Bulls head coach Jim Boylen calls him “our best defender.” When asked how Carter gives opponents trouble, New York Knicks head coach David Fizdale begins monologuing his way through the 20-year-old’s bank of physical advantages before stopping himself for a quick laugh: “I can keep going if you want.”

One day, Carter will probably be the spine of a top-10 defense who can also stabilize and enhance the offense. The Al Horford comparisons out of college were made for a reason, and it’s no coincidence Carter decided to model his game after the five-time all-star. Carter will score at all three levels, protect the rim, and organize a cohesive defense with his voice and 7’5 wingspan.

But right now, if Carter wants to stand out he’ll need to be a bit more selfish, especially on a roster overloaded with self-sufficient scorers who play as if they’re alone in a gym.

“It’s usually the other way around,” Carter says with a smile. “You go from selfish to being unselfish.”

He’s been that way since he was 15, never caring about the number of points or rebounds he tallies so long as his team prevails. Carter is always looking for the open man, and doesn’t steal rebounds from teammates just to pad his stats.

“What I’ve always known when it comes to winning: one person can’t win the game,” he says. “Everybody has to be a factor in their own kind of way.”

Carter is not wrong, but the Bulls won’t complain if he’s more involved in their offense, at the very least forcing opponents to respect him as a legitimate threat. More of this won’t hurt:

The good news is that Carter doesn’t need the ball to impact games while surrounded by players who treat jumpers like oxygen, otherwise his tenure on the Bulls might be a short one. Balance is constructive. Lauri Markkanen, Zach LaVine, and Otto Porter Jr. were born to take a lot of shots. Luke Kornet and Coby White are in the rotation because they score. Floating alongside so many aggressive options can be frustrating for any prospect trying to establish himself. It also highlights how critical Carter’s development will be on a team that desperately needs what he’s seemingly able to provide.

So far, the Bulls’ defensive scheme hasn’t done him any favors. They’re extremely aggressive defending pick-and-rolls, meaning bigs (like Carter) stay high on the floor in an effort to squeeze passes from ball-handlers or force steals. At times they look competent—the Bulls are fourth in defensive turnover rate — but more often find themselves scrambling with unnecessary rotations that yield open threes and looks at the rim.

As a result, Carter gets extended in ways he wouldn’t if he functioned in more conservative coverage. Boylen wants to stick with his plan as long as he can, but he may have to tweak it as the season goes if he wants to accentuate his young center’s strengths.

“We’ve had some times when it’s been very effective and some times where we’ve struggled,” Boylen says. “It’s a learning process. You don’t build your defense overnight. We’re continuing to grow with it.”

When asked how long he’d go before making a change, Boylen adds: “Well, you know I’ve heard some coaches talk 10 games, I’ve heard some coaches talk 15. Chuck Daly used to say it takes 25 games to know your team. I don’t know. I just know we’re going to work at it and we’re going to tell our guys the truth. We have a willing group that cares about doing it right and a lot of times it’s about experience and just growth.”

Carter’s rock-hard toughness is both fierce and nostalgic. You can see it whenever he braces to set a screen, or plows through a pile of bodies only to emerge with his hands tightly wrapped around the ball. Every team can appreciate a determined tackle dummy who absorbs as much punishment as he doles out, but Carter aims to bruise every possession with a physicality as unique as it is helpful.

“He’s got a little shit to him,” Bulls forward Thad Young says. “When you say, ‘somebody has a little shit to him,’ it’s not a bad thing. It’s actually a good thing. He has that dog in him. He has that mentality where he wants to be the aggressor. He wants to be the bruiser. That old-school mentality where he’s gonna be there and knock a guy out if he needs to.”

Boylen agrees: “He embraces things in the game that I really value, which is collision and contact.”

Carter’s game face maintains the seriousness of a mannequin before, during, and after these flashes of brutality.

“I’ve got a lot of friends in this league, but when we step inside those lines and that time is going down, you’re not my friend,” Carter says. “My dad kind of taught me that since I was a little kid. Visualize and attack. That was his little motto for me.

“During the game … we’re not joking, we’re not laughing. I’m trying to win. I want to get every rebound. I want to block every shot. I want to stop everybody from scoring. I want to get every loose ball. All of that.”

He was raised as a box-out artist, and the tenacity with which he creates second chances is second to none. Watch how Draymond Green literally bounces off Carter’s body on this play from last year.

Or how Ed Davis, a true savant on the offensive glass, gets completely neutralized by Carter’s backside.

Carter will never have his own chapter in a playbook, but if he can apply his aggressive mentality on defense to when Chicago has the ball, his impact can be universal in a way only the game’s very best centers can replicate. Right now, he’s picking his spots and constantly reminding himself to shoot when open, something his teammates encourage. The fact that Carter is always thinking about the textbook right play is admirable, but great offensive players must bend the game to their will, whether that means popping out for a three, ducking in to bully a weaker man, or orchestrating offense from the high post.

Selflessness for the sake of being selfless won’t help the Bulls win games. Carter is smart enough to know this, and too powerful to be his own worst enemy. Defensively, he’s already on track for greatness. Once he’s comfortable toggling between his own scoring opportunities and setting up his teammates, Carter will be the center every team wishes they had.