#( i will not set fire to myself to keep you warm | conversation )

[pricelessemotion]

Never really over | S.H.

summary: [4.2k] you and steve fall apart, then fall back together.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: so much angst, best friends to exes to lovers, language, gratuitous taylor swift references

a/n: exes to lovers is one of my fave tropes so i hope i did it justice! reader is vaguely asian-coded by accident (though there shouldn’t be any direct references to r's appearance!) lmao happy AAPI heritage month to all my fellow asians

masterlist

The day after your breakup, Steve shows up at your house with a bag of takeout and a six-pack. He kicks off his shoes at the front door while you’re in the kitchen, already grabbing napkins and chopsticks. The light on the floral rice cooker on the counter just turned from cooking to keep warm. Steve is nothing, if not right on time. 

To most people, the situation would seem peculiar. But you and Steve were best friends before your break up and you had promised that you would stay best friends after it. 

You settle in on opposite sides of the worn-down loveseat, a rerun of Golden Girls playing on the television. You’re just about to ask him if he remembered to get extra sauce for the chow mein when Steve, seemingly anticipating your question, silently hands you a small cylindrical container. 

The night goes on as it usually would, with Steve lamenting Keith’s tyranny and Dustin’s antics. He helps you clean up when you’re done, scooping the leftover rice into a Tupperware container saying I gotta get myself one of these, it’s so convenient! He even does the dishes, washing while you dry, never commenting on the fact that you have a perfectly good dishwasher that you never use. 

Once he’s standing in the entryway, shoes back on and keys in hand, he instinctively leans in for a chaste kiss goodbye. 

You flinch, turning your cheek at the last second. The moment becomes a sobering reminder as to why you decided to break up in the first place. Instinct over time starts to feel like routine. Routine over time starts to feel like a chore. Another thing that you have to cross off your to-do list.

For a while, it was grounding. It felt good to be normal. Normal felt like warmth, like coming in out of the freezing cold and cozying up next to a blazing fire. But you knew from experience that the cold always comes back. As the days drew darker, the once roaring hearth settled into a pile of ashes. Being grounded can feel like being tied down. It’s only natural to want to break free. 

You didn’t realize freedom would feel like this. 

“Right.” Steve huffs out awkwardly, swinging his car keys around his index finger. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He shuffles out the door while you offer a weak goodbye. You know you’re letting the cold in by watching him as he gets into his car. You do it anyway. 

–

Steve and Dustin have taken to visiting you while you’re on shift at the coffee shop. You’re not sure why. The arcade next door seems much more fitted to their shared interests, but they still come and visit you all the same. Usually, when you come upon them, they’re standing on the other side of the till having a whispered conversation that dies the moment they notice you’re there. 

“A latte for me, and hot cocoa for the kid.” Steve says, ruffling the younger boy's hair. 

“I’m fourteen!”

“Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Maturity. Did you want a coffee? I’m sure our girl over here has some great recommendations.” 

Dustin only grumbles in response, muttering insults under his breath. Steve refuses your offer to comp their drinks, paying and dropping his change in the tip jar.  

You set both drinks down on the counter when they’re done. One is a simple steaming cup. The other is piled high with whipped cream and sprinkles, decorated with a tiny plastic snowman left over from the holidays. 

“Thank you,” Steve says, leaning against the counter. “Y’know, you’re my most favorite barista in the whole world.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m the only barista you know, but you’re welcome.” 

“So, would you be interested in movie night tomorrow?” 

“Wow, let me think.” You feign contemplation, sarcasm dripping from every word. “I’ll have to check my schedule. I have a meeting with some venture capitalists but I might be able to squeeze you in.”

“It’s a date.” 

“So… you guys are back together?” Dustin darts a confused glance between the both of you, his irises going back and forth as if watching a ping-pong match. 

“No!” You and Steve both blurt out at the same time. Then you both take a moment to look at each other as if to say, I know why I said no but why are you saying no? 

Is it really over?

Dustin, as observant and tactless as ever, gives off a little shrug. You mutter something about needing to go to the back to do inventory. As you’re walking away, you hear Steve say something that sounds a lot like Nice going, doofus!

–

Dustin answers the door when you ring the bell. Steve’s house has the usual suspects for movie night. Max and El are cuddled up together on the floor, practically laying on top of each other. Robin and Nancy are on the loveseat to the left, so wrapped up in each other that they barely even register your arrival. You presume that the sounds coming from the kitchen are Mike, Will, and Lucas, no doubt making one too many bowls of popcorn in the microwave.  

Steve is sitting, his arm draped over the back of the couch. Before, there would’ve been no questions as to where you would sit. The empty couch cushion practically had your name on it. You would’ve already bounded across the room and snuggled up to the boy that felt like home. 

You search the room for another option, but come up empty. Unless you want to pointedly avoid sitting next to him by crashing on the floor with the kids, which would undoubtedly draw attention to the very thing you want to ignore. 

Taking a seat next to Steve, you toe the line between platonic distance and romantic distance.

“What’s on tonight?” You ask no one in particular. 

“The Princess Bride.” Lucas replies, coming from the kitchen with a bowl of fresh popcorn. 

He barely gets a chance to put it down before the three other boys tumble onto the floor and begin shoveling the savory snack into their mouths. Max and El whine about their lack of civility, yelling at them for having spilled popcorn on the floor before the movie has even started.

“Ah, that’s my favorite!” 

“I know.” Steve finally speaks up beside you. 

“We’ve only seen it like a million times.” Max says, rolling her eyes and resting her head on El’s shoulder. 

“Hey! Little shits who eat my food and use me as a taxi service don’t get to complain about my movie choices.”

“Whatever, Steve.” The redhead remarks, with an unmistakable fondness in her voice. 

You settle into your seat. The January cold has seeped into the house and, despite the heating being on full blast, you’re freezing. Steve notices, tugging the comforter in his lap over your frame, enveloping you in a warmth you didn’t realize you missed so much. You murmur a quiet thank you that you’re almost sure goes unheard until he turns, giving you a small smile before returning his attention to the screen. 

In order to properly share the blanket, you have to scoot in even closer. You tell yourself that it’s a perfectly reasonable platonic distance, that you used to do this all the time before you were dating. If Steve is experiencing even a fraction of your inner turmoil, he doesn’t show it. He just keeps looking ahead, paying far too much attention to the film. The palm that would usually come to rest upon your shoulder stays gripping the back of the couch. 

Sometime after Buttercup and Wesley enter the forbidden forest, you fall asleep.

It’s hard to make out anything through the dense fog. The trees around you loom large, foliage so lush and thick that it blocks out the sky, making it unclear if it’s day or night. The only light source comes from an oil lamp. 

The lamp casts a shadow over the face of the person holding it, emphasizing his strong brow and straight nose. You go to move toward Steve, but you can’t. You’re stuck. Ankle deep in sand, coarse and with the consistency of molasses, that slowly creeps up higher and higher. It takes you a moment to realize; the sand isn’t getting higher, you’re getting lower. 

You’re sinking. 

Desperately, you begin grasping at anything and everything that might get you out. It’s futile. The more you move, the further you fall. You’re waist-deep now. Steve is still standing there, stone-faced, oil lamp flickering. He turns, walking into the fog and taking the light with him. 

You open your mouth, wanting to scream. Needing to scream. But only one word echoes throughout. It does nothing to stop Steve’s retreating figure. 

Stay. 

“Hey,” Steve is tugging on the sleeve of your sweater. “Wake up.” 

The fog dissipates. Feeling slowly returns to your limbs. The first thing you realize is that you fell asleep on Steve’s shoulder. The second thing you realize is that, due to your impromptu nap, the distance between the two of you is practically nonexistent. You recoil, sliding yourself as far away from him as you can. Steve flinches at the sudden movement. 

“Are you okay?” His voice is soft and comforting, like a childhood blanket that you can’t sleep without. “It seemed like you were having a bad dream.”

You blink your eyes furiously, trying to shake the sinking feeling that has settled deep into your stomach. 

“Where is everyone?” You ask, avoiding his question. The once lively living room is now empty. Remnants of movie night surround you in the form of stray pieces of popcorn and a nearly empty tub of Red Vines. 

“They all went home about twenty minutes ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You seemed so comfortable. I didn’t wanna wake you.” He shrugs, saying the next words gently. “Are you having nightmares again?” 

Before, you would tell him yes. You always talked to Steve about your nightmares. Most of the time he was there to witness them firsthand, waking up to your shouting and thrashing. Some nights, he would be able to coax you back to sleep with soothing words and tender touches. Other nights, he would stay up with you for hours, talking about nothing. The next day, the deep bags etched under his eyes would serve as another reminder of just how tiring you could be.

“I’m fine.” You wipe the corner of your mouth, cringing at the slight dampness you find there. Great. Not only did you fall asleep on Steve but you also drooled on him. “I think it’s time for me to head out.”

Leaping from the couch, you get to the foyer in record time. Your shoes are already halfway on before Steve appears, standing in between you and the door. 

“You don’t have to. You know the guest room is always made up for you if you want it.” He bargains. 

“I— I have to go. I’m sorry. Goodnight Steve.” 

“Please, you’re tired. At least let me drive you.” He’s practically pleading, already moving to grab his car keys.  

“Just let me go, Steve!” Your outburst echoes throughout the empty house. 

Steve takes a step back away from you. “I’m sorry.”

Regret washes over you like a tidal wave. You can feel yourself being ripped under the current. You curse yourself, not for drowning, but for dragging Steve down with you. 

“No, don’t apologize. Fuck, I’m sorry. I just—” 

“Have to go?” He supplies. 

He sounds dejected like this is another battle with you that he’s already resigned himself to losing. You fumble through another apology, another goodbye.

You don’t dare to look behind you as you make your way to your car. It isn’t until you’re halfway down your street that you spare a glance at your rear-view mirror. Steve is still standing there, the door wide open. 

You don’t know why you keep having dreams where you ask Steve to stay. 

You’re the one who is always leaving. 

—

“She was totally flirting with you!” You scream whisper, keeping in mind that the diner is mostly empty aside from the loyal patrons that come in every weekday for a hearty serving of beef and potatoes.

Steve showed up to the coffee shop today, sans Dustin, asking if you’d like to grab a bite to eat after your shift. You obliged, hoping to make up for your outburst from the other night. He still hasn’t mentioned it. For your sake, you hope that he won’t.

“No, she wasn’t.” You thought Steve’s obliviousness when it came to romance only extended to you. Apparently, you were wrong because he was completely ignoring the way that the waitress was batting her eyelashes at him.

“Yes, she was!” You take a fry from the basket and Steve pushes his strawberry milkshake toward you, already knowing that you were going to subject him to the gross combination and he might as well get it over with. “Y’know, if you wanted to ask her out you could. Don’t let me hold you back.”

“You’re not holding me back. Anyways, isn’t it weird, having your ex-girlfriend be your wingman?”

“I’m still your best friend. Besides, you totally helped me out with Brandon so I just thought I’d return the favor.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve asks, causing you to furrow your brow at him. Despite having loved him for a long time and having known him for even longer, his inability to read a room knows no bounds. 

“Last week at Family Video?” You utter the words with slow precision, but recognition fails to make its way across Steve’s face. “Brandon Clayborn asked you for horror movie recommendations and you sent him to me.”

“And he asked you out?” Steve gapes at you from over the rim of his milkshake. The idea of grabbing the glass and slogging the pink confection at him crosses your mind, but instead, you clench your fists at your side. 

“Is that so unbelievable?” At your response, Steve’s brows pinch together. He toys with the wrapping paper of his straw, folding it over and over again. 

“And what did you say?”

“I said yes.”

“Oh.” Steve finally stops fiddling with the piece of paper. It’s shredded to pieces in a pile in front of him. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the bulging leather wallet. “I’ll be right back.” 

With that, Steve slides out of the booth and walks up to the counter. The giggles of the waitress can be heard throughout the diner. You turn toward the window so that you don’t have to see her scrawl her number on the receipt, and you catch your muddled reflection. You don’t know if you look like you’ve seen a ghost or if you’ve become one. 

–

Due to unforeseen circumstances, your second date with Brandon had to be rescheduled. A literal rain check. He’d sputtered out numerous apologies over the crackling phone line, saying how the picnic he had planned didn’t account for a torrential downpour. You promised him that it was fine, that you didn’t even wanna leave the house in this weather. You didn’t think anyone would want to leave the house in this weather, which is why you grew shocked at the sound of the doorbell ringing. 

Then you promptly remember that this is Hawkins and that anyone or anything could be behind that door. Grabbing the old wooden bat you keep under the couch for emergencies, you inch toward the door. The frantic ringing of the bell matches the beat of your heart. Peering through the peephole, you sigh in both relief and frustration before flinging the door open.

“Are you insane?!” You practically scream at the soaking wet boy. “You scared the shit outta me.”

Steve stands in the threshold, shaking his head like a dog would to get all the water out. You flinch as the droplets inevitably fall on you. The fine mist and wind that he’s brought in with him chill you to the bone. 

“Sorry.” He smiles sheepishly.

“How did you even manage to get this wet in the twenty feet from the street to the porch?” You ask, peering behind him to look for the familiar maroon vehicle. It isn’t there. 

“I walked here.”

You balk at him. Sure, Steve has been known to act recklessly from time to time, but never without reason. Instead of taking the time to berate him for being so stupid, you take one look at the soggy shivering boy and shut the door, turning on your heel towards your bedroom. You don’t need to look behind you to know that he’s following you. 

“C’mon, you’re gonna catch a cold if you stay in those wet clothes.”

You rummage through your drawers, managing to find a t-shirt and sweatpants that you had stolen from him long ago. Now is as good a time as any to give it back, right? Stuffing the items in your arm, you thrust them into Steve’s hands and direct him to the bathroom. He doesn’t need direction. He knows the floorplan of your house just like he knows you–all too well.

While Steve is in the bathroom, you go to shut the drawers that you had left open in the rush to find him something to wear. The bottom drawer has always had a problem, getting stuck at the most inopportune moments. Lifting it just a little, you slam the drawer back into place which causes the contents on top of your dresser to shake with the force. The silver picture frame falls on its face and you go to place it right side up. 

It’s a photograph of the two of you from last summer. Robin had pointed the camera at you and at the very last second Steve grabbed you and placed a sloppy kiss on your cheek, causing you to squeal in delight. The memory stings. You almost want to put it face down again so that you don’t have to be reminded of what once was. Instead, you’re interrupted by the sound of a lock turning and quiet footfalls on carpeted floors. 

The moment Steve steps into your bedroom, you’re drenched in nostalgia. It’s been months since you’ve seen him like this–standing in his pajamas in your bedroom. It’s moments like this that are the hardest. The ones where you can feel how everything and nothing has changed. It feels like relief and restriction. 

You realize you’re still standing in front of the dresser and go to sit on your bed. You need to put space between you and Steve. He has this insane gravitational pull and you know that if you stay around him like this for too long, you’ll end up back in his orbit.  

He steps cautiously around the room like he’s afraid of stepping on a landmine. One wrong move and everything could blow up. Standing in front of the dresser, he takes the dreaded picture frame into his hands. He’s still using a towel to dry his hair when he finally speaks. 

“It’s a good picture.” He says, simply. The pads of his thumbs wipe away the layer of dust that coats your sunbleached faces. 

“It is.” You manage to choke out. “Why are you here, Steve?”

He places the picture frame back down on the dresser. It’s perfectly angled towards you. The ghost of your smiling face taunting you in your own bedroom. 

“It’s funny, y’know?” Steve lets out a mirthless laugh.  

“What is?”

“We broke up and the only person I wanna talk about it with is you.”

All of the air has been sucked out of the room. Steve has always been good at taking your breath away. 

“I mean, I get it. I get why we broke up. I do.” He lets out a deep breath before continuing on, not giving you a chance to interrupt. “Except, I don’t. I can’t wrap my head around how one day we were fine and the next day we weren’t. I know that I’m not good enough for you–I’ve always known that. I guess I just wanna know when you finally figured it out.”

His words make you ache. A tightness blooms in your chest and spreads all the way down your arms to your trembling fingertips. You want so badly to reach out to him. He’s on the other side of the room but he might as well be on the other side of the world. You don’t know how to bridge the ravine that you’ve put between the two of you. You know for him you’d make the leap, uncaring of the abyss below. The thought scares you so much that your fists tangle in your bedsheets, hoping for something to keep you from falling back in.   

“The last thing I wanted was for you to feel like you weren’t good enough for me. You’ve always been good enough, Steve.”  

You can tell from the shake of his head that he doesn’t believe you. 

“I thought that maybe you just needed a little space, a little time. Then I have to watch you go on dates and move on like it’s easy. Like the fact that we’re not together anymore doesn’t eat you up inside.”

“It’s not easy! It’s killing me!” Tears collect in your eyes, blurring your vision. “I don’t know why I can’t just be happy with you. I want to be happy with you.”

“What are you so afraid of?” Steve begs, his question punctuated by a boom of thunder and a flash of lightning. 

You found solace in the eye of the storm. Once the storm passed, you didn’t know what to do with the wreckage. Calm didn’t provide comfort. Instead, it only reminded you that there was likely another storm to come. Steve has always been better at picking up the pieces and patching things up. You didn’t want to become just another thing he had to fix. So, you pushed him away. 

He still came back.

This time he brought the storm with him. 

“I’m afraid that the minute I actually enjoy everything, it’ll all get taken away from me.” You confess, roughly wiping away your tears. 

Steve crosses the room and kneels in front of you. His hair is still slightly damp, a stray strand hanging in front of his forehead. You brush it out of the way and he catches your wrist, placing a kiss in the palm of your hand. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” He murmurs, lips still brushing your skin. He says it like a promise. You wish the words were tangible, that you could close your fist around them and hold them close. “Tell me what I can do to fix it.”

The words simultaneously endear and exasperate you. Here is this boy who loves you, sitting in front of you telling you to let him love you. Here you are, about to tell him that he can’t. 

“What if you can’t fix it, Steve? What if I’m unfixable?”

He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he takes both of your hands in his, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles. 

“Then I’ll still love you anyway.” 

Steve looks up and the clouds part. You’ve been so caught up in your doom and gloom, that you’d forgotten what it felt like to see the light of day. You lean down, closing your eyes, pressing your forehead to his. 

“Why?” The question comes out watery and wanting. 

“I can’t help it.” He breathes out. 

You understand the feeling. 

You bridge the gap, uncaring of the abyss that lies below. You’d fall through eternity if it meant you got to do it with him. His lips feel exactly like you remember them–like home. He kisses soft and slow, hands anchored at your hips as if to prevent you from floating away. When you break apart, both of you gasping for air, there’s uncertainty in his eyes. It fades away as soon as you lean back on the bed, pulling at his sleeves and dragging him with you. 

The night is composed of soft apologies and even softer sighs, accompanied by the din of rain against the roof. It isn’t until far into the night that the storm finally subsides, leaving the pavement to glow in the morning sun. 

Waking up next to Steve is a revelation. You don’t know how you ever survived without it. He’s all sleepy smiles and tired eyes, drowsily pulling you closer to him. Resting your head on his chest, you’re soothed by the rhythmic thump of his beating heart.   

“Y’know, you didn’t have to walk in the rain just to say that you wanna get back together. You’re so dramatic.” You joke, hoping that it isn’t too soon to start poking fun. 

His chest rumbles with laughter, the reverberations quelling your fears.

“In my defense, it wasn’t raining when I started walking.” He says, voice still thick with sleep. “Besides, you love it.”

You smile contentedly to yourself, not offering up a response besides a hum of agreement. He’s right. You do love him. Rain or shine.

likes are appreciated, comments and reblogs are cherished ♥️

[silkmoon777]

Do I Make you Nervous? | Simon "Ghost" Riley

little re-upload from my AO3 :)

Synopsis: When Task Force 141 is betrayed by Philip Graves, they're forced to separate. Y\N fights her way through the foreign Las Almas with a broken radio and no sense of direction. Yet, somehow, she finds herself in the same church her lieutenant, Simon "Ghost" Riley, seeks sanctuary in. As they attempt to brave the storm sweeping through the streets, the infamously unreadable Ghost challenges their professional relationship.

Pairing: Ghost x F!141reader

Contains: fluff, kissing, use of Y/N, hint of angst but resolved in the end, vague mentions of blood/wounds

Word count: 5,874

• • • • •

It was all a set-up. A lie.

Disappointment and anger triumphs any sadness over Grave's betrayal. At first, he came across as over-confident in that stereotypical male way. Over time I had warmed up to him. But Shepherd? The man who has given me the most freedom I’ve had in a long time? I admit that my use as a weapon to him has put a strain on our companionship, but to station me with my own cousin only to lash out unprovoked? He’s crossed a line that he can never come back from. The small liking I had for the man vanished as soon as shit hit the fan. Everything seems to replay in my mind. Alejandro insulted and detained, Johnny shot at, Ghost cornered...

There were too many of them to fight off. I couldn't trust myself to hold my own with my mind worrying over Johnny, Alejandro and Ghost while also plotting Shepherd's death. So, though it pained me, I ran. Ghost and Johnny did the same. 

My radio was damaged in the incident. A stray bullet flew my way, and with a stroke of luck, grazed the radio instead of my ribs. The close call was enough warning to run, which is what I do now. The lack of communication only worsens the worry.

Shadows crawl in the streets of Las Almas like rats in a sewer. From door to door they go, yelling at innocent civilians in the late hours of dusk. From the conversations I've heard, they're looking for two foreign men and their female friend. They don't quite explain why we're being hunted, but the truth wouldn't change much. Every so often, a shot fires, echoing through the streets like a warning bell. A call of sorrow and fear.

With the Shadows forcing their way into civilian homes and raising their weapons against anyone who could harbour us, houses and shops aren't safe. The towering cathedral spires peeking above tin roofs and stacked houses catch my attention instead. Nobody would be inside at this time of night. For now, it's the best I can do. Also to my luck, the church isn't too far away. I take my time and keep to the shadows on my way. With a quick survey of my surroundings, I know I've bet the Shadows to this part of the city. That won't last long. The revelation has me jumping the gate within seconds of making it.

Inside the church is pitch black. Towering windows that tell biblical tales line the walls, casting light in intervals across the empty foyer. Rows of seats begin to emerge as my eyes adjust. Further back is an intricate, circular skylight tens of feet above the marble floor. Illuminating the altar below is a waterfall of silvery light. The giant cross, gold statues, and wooden altar glow like I'm looking through a blurred lens. The view is both eerie and magical...and not meant to be marvelled at in a time like this. My focus should be maintaining high ground. I begin to turn in search of a staircase when something shifts in the darkness.

A figure materialises, tall and built; easily a male physically capable of snapping my neck. My next best option is the gun strapped to my hip to parry the one in his hand. I go to reach for mine—

“Y/N?”

I freeze in surprise, but my mind eases slightly.

“Lieutenant? How—”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re here now.” He looks down at me with searching eyes. “You in one piece?”

“Yes. You—?” At that moment, my own eyes skim his body, only to halt at a worrying sight. On the left side of his waist, just above the waistband of his pants, is a blooming, dark red stain on his shirt. He’s been shot. “Jesus, Ghost. How bad is it?”

“I’ve had worse—”

He stops himself at the distant shouting. The surrounding streets haven’t been quiet since I’ve been in the church, but this time it grows closer. Angrier. Ghost doesn’t waste time ushering me along in search of a stairwell. The one we find leads to the second floor, then a third. Eventually, we discover the central bell tower. The room is dank and cold and decently big. Suspended in the middle is a gigantic bell. Even in the dark, I can see how weathered the metal is. The worn wooden floors creak as we cross it. On each wall are arched openings that allow entry to the cold night air and terrified screams. A small cluster of discarded furniture draped in white sheets huddles in a corner. From here, we have a perfect view of the sprawling city and winding streets. To those down there, we’re invisible.

Simon leans back against a wall and grunts, his hands brushing over the bullet wound. He pulls back his hands to inspect the fresh blood. However bad it is, it’s still bleeding.

“Show me,” I say. My voice comes out more demanding than I intend.

He gives me a brief exasperated look but doesn’t push back.

Ghost sits against the wall with his shoulders slumped just enough to reach my level. His jacket is unzipped, his black shirt rolled up halfway. Those tired, piercing eyes and muscular arms are the most I've ever seen of him. It feels like a reward when the weather is unforgiving enough to chase away his usual long-sleeve or jacket. His arms are tanned and muscled, with a tattoo sleeve working from the wrist of his left arm up to his elbow. I’ve begun to accept that it’s the closest I’m ever going to get to seeing him. But now I stare down at his bare abdomen.

The waistband of his black cargo pants sits low on his hips, offering a distracting view of a pronounced V-line and abs. In the moonlight, I can make out the reminders of war that mark his skin; a few silvery scars, some clean-cut, some gnarled and twisted; an old bullet wound healed closer to his ribs. The fresh one with the most of my attention is buried in a more acceptable spot. It nestles into the far right side of his waist, thankfully nowhere near any vital organs. However, it’s still a bullet wound and it still bleeds. That’s enough to worry me.

“Do you reckon it’s bad?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I wouldn’t say I’m dying.”

“But we aren’t in the position to get proper help. Maybe sit down for a bit.” Surprisingly, he does so without question. I get to my feet, draw a small knife from my thigh holster, and rip a strip of fabric from the white sheets. When I drop back down beside him, I take a deep breath. “Here"

He takes it with a mumbled thank you and wraps the fabric around his waist.

“You heard from John?” I ask.

Simon winces as he adjusts the torn sheet. “I radioed him multiple times. Never got an answer.”

“Are you surprised by all this?”

Simon leans back against the wall. “I tend to be less surprised by betrayal. But I had some respect for Shepherd.”

I sigh, shuffling around him so that I can do the same. “What are we supposed to do now?”

“Survive,” he says. “Shepherd wants you alive. Graves will see to that. He can’t kill Alejandro, either. But Johnny and I…” He shakes his head. “Graves won’t sleep until there’s a bullet in our heads and Shepherd won’t care enough to stop it.”

There’s a moment of silence as I fold my arms and look away thoughtfully. How are we supposed to do this? The blanket of night and the ensuing storm may offer some cover, but getting out of the city will be a mission. I can’t bring myself to leave without John, either. My heart hurts when I think about him. He could be anywhere, alone and outnumbered while I sit uselessly in a bell tower.

“What do we do about Johnny?” My voice is quiet. Fearful. “My radio was damaged so I couldn’t reach out to him. Maybe his is the same. But not knowing… He’s the only family I have left. My only real friend.”

“Don’t worry about Johnny. He’s one of the most resourceful and strong-willed Sergeants I’ve dealt with in a while. Have faith in him.” He looks at me then, tilting his head to the side. “I wouldn’t say he’s your only friend.”

“I do quite like his girlfriend…” I murmur.

“And Alejandro? Ronaldo?”

I purse my lips as his question draws thought. I’ve been considering Alejandro and Ronaldo as allies. Companions. But I’ve grown quite fond of them. Considering them as friends would set me up for heartache if anything were to happen. So I haven’t… At least openly. Despite my attempts to create some distance in our relationships, my subconscious has decided for me. Those two are my friends. It explains the immense distress I’m battling over Alejandro’s capture.

“I guess so.”

“Me?”

Silence ensues from both of us.

His question stuns me; I was prepared for him to stop at Alejandro and Ronaldo. There’s nobody else in Las Almas or back at home that I pay attention to. Besides Ghost, at least. I could answer him in a second. I almost do.

Ghost is infamous for his detachment. He’s quiet, short-tempered, dangerous and mysterious. I’ve heard the comments that he suits his code name. Spiritual beings do not communicate through speech but through action. Ghost is the physical embodiment of the epiphany. Anybody able to coax a few sentences from him outside missions is admirable. Outside of that, his physical emotions require deep analysis and theory to understand. The mask only makes things more difficult. I’ve never seen him show palpable kindness through his aura or words to anyone, never heard him allow the use of his name, never heard him offer others insight into the raging whirlwind of his mind.

And yet he lets those things slide around me.

He lets me speak his name when no one is listening. He offers me comfort when I need it most — if not through limited words, through soft gazes and a hand on my shoulder. I’m usually able to get him talking. Sometimes I receive short answers, sometimes I receive enough to help me understand more of that whirlwind mind. He even occasionally shows pieces of himself that take away from the guessing game I usually play.

I shut people out because the last people I let in betrayed me.

I never consider answering personal questions, but you tend to have a lot of them. And every time you ask…I almost answer

I guess you and I are more alike than I thought.

All of it has me wanting more. More of his mind, his words, the soft gazes I’ve noticed are reserved for me. What I already have is nothing compared to every naked truth he could be telling me. However, what I’ve managed to coax from him seems to be more than he’s told anyone in a long time. At first, I marked it down as me being the only female on the team or Ghost considered me fragile. But I've proved myself, and nothing about being a 'fragile female' (which I very well am not) does not automatically give me all these passes. I now realise it is much more than that.

Never once has he called me his friend. I already have. Now it’s his turn.

“I don’t mind you, Simon, but friendship can’t be one-sided,” I say. While it’s a simple statement, a silent question hides between each word. Are you my friend?

“If it was as one-sided as you think, you wouldn’t be calling me Simon.”

My heart skips a beat. There. It’s an answer to my unspoken words, but it’s not plain as day. As usual, Simon tells me something that is anything but straightforward. There’s room for interpretation in his answer—something that is beginning to tire me. It’s almost as if the honest answer is criminal and he’s trying to cover up his tracks. Almost as if not speaking that honest answer can allow him to deny it.

I don't bother concealing my annoyance. “That’s not what I want to hear and you know it.”

“Fuck sakes, Y\N, I said it,” he says. His voice comes out both argumentative and exasperated.

“No, you didn't. All I ever get out of you is stuff that works around the truth. Stuff I have to think about to understand.” I'm crossing a line, I know. I just can't help it. “What’s so hard about admitting it?”

“Don’t.”

His tone is final. I don’t care.

“Does the truth scare you?”

His eyes squint, becoming barely visible against the black paint, the mask, and the low light. I can clearly picture a scowl jumping across the many faces I’ve imagined. While I want to flinch away, I don’t. Not for a second do my eyes lower, and not for a second do I grow offensive. I remain calm and collected, which I think annoys him more.

“You want the truth?” he growls. The accent of Manchester seems to thicken. “Fine. I’ll tell you the truth. I don’t want to admit I think of you as a friend ‘cause I bloody well want to ignore it. For years, it’s only been me and I planned it to be for the rest of my life. Then all of a sudden you and your annoying cousin appear and jeopardise everything. The only person with an inkling of anything was Shepherd and I was fine with that. But now you’re catching up to him. You’ve so effortlessly undone everything I’ve worked hard to maintain.” The growl in his voice dies down the longer he speaks. In the last sentence, his voice is quiet, defeated, but a little begrudging. “And I knowingly let you.”

“If it was bothering you that much, you should have told me,” I say with a voice equally as quiet. “If I knew you didn’t want me to know so badly, I would have respected that.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t understand. I think about telling you everything. I may get pissy at you over your questions, but…” A sigh. The truth is shameful to him. “I look forward to them.”

“If it makes you feel any better…” I laugh a little. “It’s really annoying how intriguing you are. Not just your past and your face… When I’m not trying to guess what you look like, I’m refraining from asking you stupid questions. Shit like if you’re a cat or dog person.”

“Dog person,” he replies. Any hint of anger or annoyance has disappeared. “Cats have too much attitude.”

I squint. “You just don’t appreciate them.”

“You strike me as a cat person.” He pauses in thought. “You just remind me of a cat, really.”

I raise my brows, giving him an exasperated look. “Are you going to tell me I have an attitude?”

“Maybe. But there’s more to it.”

I cock my head in question.

“Cats are friendly. Independent.” His eyes shift and I wonder if there's a smirk beneath the mask. “Curious.”

“Was that another dig at my questions?”

“Yes. Now shut up and listen.”

Before he continues, I find myself turning my body so I can fully look at him, my shoulder against the concrete walls and my legs folded beneath me.

“There’s that look in their eyes that they know your worst thoughts. Your secrets. They’re also graceful. Got that high-class elegance about them. But they can be unpredictable, striking out when you least expect. Once they sink their claws into you…” His eyes search my face. “You can’t get rid of them.”

I look up at him in wonder, my mouth slightly agape as I try to find a suitable response. Nothing I could say would express the way his words sink in. I’ve always coined Simon to be the observant type, keeping to himself and remaining silent. But I never expected him to relay his finds. His usual short, sharp answers contrast the compliment greatly.

“I think…” A small smile curves my lips upwards. “…That was the most meaningful compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Never. Now I have a question.”

“The floor is yours.”

“Do you have, like, Queen Elizabeth tattooed on your face? The British flag?” I grin. “Something mask-worthy, you know?”

“Why does it have to be something British?”

“Because there’s no way you’re the only Brit I know that isn’t somewhat stereotypical.”

Simon huffs a laugh. “No stereotypical tattoos. Sorry to disappoint.”

“A big scar, then?”

He tilts his head. “No scars that make me want to wear it.”

I raise my brows. “So you do have a scar?”

“Only one big one.”

“Good to know.” I nod my head with thoughtful eyes. “I’ll add that to a mental note.”

His eyes widen a fraction. The skull sown to his balaclava only offers the view of his painted eyes and nothing. Not even his eyebrows. I guess he’s raising them in question.

“How often do you think about this?”

I let out a long breath. “You have no idea. I change what I think you look like every day.”

“What do you think I look like.”

I go quiet in thought for a moment. As I said, the image changes… Only more frequently than I want to admit. Sometimes the change is small. Sometimes the change is big. I know I’m not the only one stumped by this, either. John and I joked over it once. He said things eluding to him being unattractive. A crooked nose, a huge scar, broken teeth. Every time he made a guess I would laugh, but never did the ideas seep into my mind. Nothing in an unattractive sense, anyway. Despite the possibility, I can never picture him as ugly.

“It varies, but…” I take one last second to collect my thoughts. “Without that skull piece, you have dark eyebrows. I imagine your hair is brown. And you’re eyes…it’s hard to tell with the paint, but they’re more deep-set and heavy-lidded. The balaclava is tight enough to make me think you have a straight nose, high cheekbones, strong jaw…” I shake my head. “Beyond that, I’m stumped.”

I can tell he thinks deeply about each characteristic. I sit patiently and almost wait for confirmation, but I know better than that. If he’s not going to show his face, he’s not going to—

“My hair is brown.”

I’m about to backtrack on my previous thought when he reaches towards the space between my neck and shoulder. In the frenzy that has been the last hour, my hair has come undone. The braid was unsavable, making me pull out the band and attempt a ponytail…only for it to snap in two. My hair now falls in dishevelled waves. A small part of my hair falls over my shoulder. Simon gingerly reaches for it, curling it between his finger and examining it in the low light. …Can he hear how fast my heart is beating?

“Not like yours. A few shades lighter, maybe. And that scar…”

Even more gingerly, Simon pulls one of my hands from its folded position, and I pray my expression doesn’t betray me. Rough, calloused hands press against the back of mine. The size difference is almost comical. He guides it to his masked face, working his fingers working around mine to spread them out. He drags my hand over his right cheekbone, across the hollow of his cheek, and towards his jaw. My mind is hyper-fixated on the shape of his face.

“Right along there.”

His eyes continue to search my face. There’s nothing but curiosity in the blue-grey of his irises. Curious at what, I can’t tell. Everything about this has my mind raging. The way he looks at me, the way he holds my hand against the black balaclava, the way he towers over me even when sitting down... The thoughts that surface are shameful. He’s your lieutenant, for Christ’s sake. Have some respect. The remembrance of his position has little help.

If anything, it strengthens the fantasies.

His hold shifts on top of my hand, the pad of his thumb swiping across my skin to stop on the inner side of my wrist and press down. He may not have been able to hear my heartbeat…but now he can feel it at the worst possible moment.

“You’re heart is beating fast.” He inclines his head. “Do I make you nervous, Y\N?”

God, is my breathing even? I can’t tell.

“You just caught me off guard, is all.”

Simon hums thoughtfully as his hand breaks away from mine and reaches forward. His fingers connect with my collarbone before finding my neck, exploring upwards in search of a pulse point. A shiver of excitement and nervousness runs beneath my skin like a ripple. His other hand slides over my knee and up my thigh. If my heart was racing before, this is a life-or-death sprint.

Slow are his movements. Calculated. He knows exactly where my heartbeat reverberates in my neck. Instead, he drags the moment out, coaxing out his desired reaction. But there’s something else in the slowness: a window for me to flinch away and draw the physical line neither of us has ever drawn. We’ve brushed shoulders and hands. We’ve sat with our bodies aligned in cramped cars. He’s held my hair back in a bathroom as I threw up after a panicked episode (something I would like to forget if he wasn't so surprisingly understanding). He's placed a hand on my shoulder for many different reasons. All are excusable moments. The ones that surpass professional boundaries can be marked as friendly. However, the intimacy of this moment is new. Scary. Exciting.

“Did you know your bottom lip twitches before you lie?” Simon asks. I find myself at eye level with him. When did he get so close? “I don’t like lies. Try again.”

“Sometimes…” I breathe.

“Sometimes, what?”

Bastard. “Sometimes you make me nervous.”

“Why?”

“Because…” I frown. “I don’t know.”

He’s definitely leaning closer now. Not just with his head, but with his whole upper body. Out of the nerves Simon is so adamant on understanding, I retreat, only making it a few inches before my back hits the other wall. Simon half hovers over me, the hand that was on my thigh now bracing himself on the floor. There are only a few inches between our chests. Even less between our faces. Not once does he lose his connection with my pulse.

“Another lie.”

“I don’t know how to word it. That's not a lie.”

Simon drops his head so that his covered mouth hovers beside my ear.

“Good girl.”

Never has praise sounded so seductive. It takes every inch of concentration to reign in my self-control. I might have ripped off his mask then and there…

Only, I think he’s beating me to it.

From where his head hovers, I can’t see his masked face. The wide, strong shape of his shoulder obscures most of my vision. He retracts his hand from my neck to reach somewhere I can’t see. The sound of moving cloth widens my eyes and upsets the rhythm of my breathing, the uneven rise and fall of my chest barely brushing his.

Maybe he’s adjusting it, I convince myself. He has only ever offered you little pieces at a time. What he’s offering me now is more than he ever has at once. While my body screams for more, my mind knows I can’t expect too much from him. Whatever he’s doing now is more than enough.

“You’re breathing funny.”

The feeling of breath skims the shell of my ear and down my neck like a warm, ghostly waterfall. It takes me a second to notice a difference in his voice. It’s low, it’s rough, it’s teasing. All are easily noticeable and nothing new. What is new is the enhanced clarity. An added sharpness lingers in his accented words. The slight muffle is nowhere to be found.

I was wrong. He’s lifted his mask.

“Because you’re taking off your mask." My answer comes out in a weak whisper.

He doesn’t speak about the mask, instead repositioning his hand to my neck to find my pulse.

“If you can’t tell me,” he murmurs, returning to the previous topic, “your heartbeat can.”

A warm feeling presses into my neck. A gasp slips past my lips as my heartbeat continues to quicken and stumble beneath his thumb. Against my skin…I think Simon is smiling.

Nothing about this seems real. Simon plants slow kisses on my neck with his bare lips. They’re a little rough, yet soothing. Whether they’re full or thin, I can’t tell, but the lack of obvious signs paints an image of something in between. His nose brushes the base of my jaw. Just above the pointed tip is where the balaclava begins. I can feel the hard edges of the sewn-on skull pressing into my left temple. Light stubble covers his jaw.

As his mouth works slowly against my neck, my jaw, and my collarbone, my hand slides up and over his chest. I slowly feel his bare neck. Beneath my fingers, his Adam's apple bobs. Further I explore, feeling the planes of his skin. The stubble scratches against my curious hand. Raised skin runs in a line over the right side of his face; the scar. It’s thin and generally clean-cut. He pulls back slightly as I feel his face. A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest as my thumb traces over his lips. I was right, they are something between full and thin. His lower lip feels slightly fuller with a deep hollow beneath that curves into his chin.

When I find it in me to speak, my voice is breathy.

“Kiss me.” He seems to still at that. When his reply isn’t instant, I continue. “You don’t have to… But I won’t look. I swear it.”

Silently, he reaches for my hand. He holds his over mine for a moment as he did with the mask moments earlier. Then he gently pries it away. Cloth shifts in my air as he fixes the mask and pulls back. I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but I respect the decision. Simon looks down at me with lust-blown pupils. Mine must be the same.

He takes a second to examine me. My heavy-lidded eyes, my slightly parted lips, the way I slump beneath him, the glistening wet spots left on my neck. He whips it away before he speaks.

“Can I trust you?”

We both know the answer to that, so instead of saying the obvious, I one-up him.

“Do you want to trust me?”

Silence passes for a heartbeat.

“Of course I do,” he says softly. “I want to trust you. I want to touch you. I want to kiss you. …Undress you. I’ve wanted to for so long.”

Then he moves.

My thoughts go quiet as Simon’s hands reach upward. When his fingers brush the base of his mask, I reach out and still his hands. The action takes both of us by surprise. For months I’ve been thinking about this moment. Just now I’ve admitted how much what he looks like takes up my mind. Now I find myself stopping him, but not because I’ve changed my mind. I worry that this will be something he’ll regret.

“Simon,” I say. “You don’t owe it to me to show your face.”

“But I do.” He inclines his head. “Now keep your pretty eyes up.”

My breath catches in my throat as he pulls it off in one swift motion. I take in everything I’m seeing in amazement, wonder, and bewilderment.

He’s handsome. He’s really handsome.

The ruggedness and confidence he carries seem to be etched into the planes of his face. A light stubble shadows his angular, defined jaw. Just as I had imagined, the bridge of his nose is straight and strong. His high cheekbones, deep-set eyes and smudged black paint create deep shadows. His mouth is wide. The shape of them is a physical manifestation of what I had imagined. With an average fullness, his upper lip is slightly smaller with a soft cupid’s bow. Tracing the angles of his right cheekbone is that straight, silver scar. His hair isn’t as short as most other military men’s. It’s a little messy from the mask and, true to his words, a few shades lighter than mine. I can tell that, the longer it gets, the more it curls.

I stay silent as I take him in, eyes wide. Somehow I find the courage to slowly reach out. His blue-grey eyes dart to my hesitant fingers. When he doesn’t deny me, I close the space, this time feeling him without needing to imagine his image. I apply a little pressure as I brush his skin, feeling the warmth of his cheeks, the scar tissue on his cheekbone, and the stubble on his jaw. His eyes train on me. This is one of the few times I cannot understand what I see in them.

Whatever he’s thinking, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I stare back at Simon. Not Ghost, Simon.

“I was starting to think you weren’t real,” I say jokingly.

He laughs softly. One side of his mouth quirks up into a skewed smirk. My heart flutters at the sight of it. When he speaks, it’s with that teasing tone that always had me imagining a smirk. Matching his expressions to his tones is a strange thing to see, but I love it.

“Is this real enough for you?” he asks.

I hum in agreement. “You’re a lot better looking than I imagined.”

He raises a brow in mock offence. “Do I radiate unattractiveness? I’m offended.”

“I never said I imagined you ugly.”

I draw my hands back, taking another good look at him. My amazed smile remains. So does the awe in my eyes. Now that I know how good-looking he is, it’s going to be hard to get him out of my head. At least I can’t scold myself over falling for a faceless man anymore.

“I guess if I die tonight… I can go a little happier.”

The way he tilts his head and looks up through lowered brows sends my mind into a frenzy. I’m used to the action with his mask on, usually with the sewn-on skull. Now, with every part of his face laid bare for me, the feeling it stirs comes tenfold. He gives me a fake accusing look. Beneath the teasing air he gives off, that desire remains.

“A little?” he murmurs. His face grows closer, giving me a better view of the hollows and curves and marks of war.

“A little not enough?”

His eyes dip to my lips. “Not by a longshot.”

Then Simon kisses me.

Eyes fluttering closed, I sink into the feeling of his lips against mine. Gently. Hesitantly. Does he expect me to pull away? How could he think such a thing when I almost seemed desperate when I asked him? My hands slide over his chest, slowly linking behind his neck as the kiss deepens.

For a moment, everything fades away. The gunfire, the screams, the impending death we may face any moment... All of it reduces to a meaningless blur. Suddenly all that exists is me, Simon, and the secret embrace we share. In our kiss is a million unspoken words; a tidal wave of passion laced with a bittersweet sadness. The talk of ‘dying happy’ is no exaggeration. We very well may die, and seeing his face and feeling his touch eases the painful thought. Maybe this way I can find him in the afterlife - seek out his mysterious eyes and lopsided smirk and spend an eternity together. Or perhaps there is no afterlife, and this is my last stroke of luck.

Satisfied with the knowledge of what he does to me, Simon lowers his hand from my neck. The pressure reapplies near my belt. His fingers timidly skim the bottom of my tanktop, pulling the tucked part from my waistband. My own fingers weave through his brown hair as his hand slides further beneath. My kiss falters when he finds one of my breasts. His hand comfortably rests over it, his palm slowly kneading at the flesh. A low groan builds at the back of my throat.

After a moment, we pull away, chests rising and falling as we take deep breaths. His forehead rests against mine and suddenly I'm wishing we could do this over again. Except I picture less sadness to tinge every word and action. I picture the safety of home, the warmth of a bed, a carefree air that allows us to just enjoy the other's company. Reality comes back in a painful rush.

“I don’t want to die,” I whisper.

His hand retreats from my breast at my words. Instead, he takes a hold of my waist, giving me a comforting squeeze.

“You are not going to die. Not today. Not when there’s so much more I want from you.” He adds the last part with a teasing, suggestive smirk.

He looks down at my lips again—

“Ghost, how do you copy?”

We both freeze at the sound of a voice, so caught up in the moment that the radio is forgotten. Both the unspeakable things and sorrowful thoughts flooding my mind suddenly vanish at the sound of a familiar voice. There’s an equally received look on Simon’s face as he reaches for the small radio.

“I read you loud and clear, Sergeant,” he says. “What’s your location?”

“I…don’t know,” John replies solemnly. “Streets are crawling with Shadows. Where are you?”

“You see church spires above the houses?”

There’s a second of silence. Then…

“I see them.”

“Good. Head straight there and come inside. No Shadows here yet. They’ll be busy going door to door.”

“Affirmative. I’m on my way. Have you got any word from Y/N?”

Simon looks at me, silently giving me the floor to speak. “I’m right here, Johnny.”

There’s a sigh of relief on the other end. “Oh, thank fuck. You in one piece?”

“I’m all here. You?”

“Got a shot to the shoulder. Nothing I can’t handle.”

For the next while, Simon and I sit huddled side by side, guiding Johnny through the radio. I generally leave the talking to Simon. Listening to him speak and sinking into his warmth is good enough. Every so often, he'll say something that takes me by surprise. Sometimes it's a dad joke, either really good or incredibly bad. Sometimes it's something that alludes to Simon not minding Johnny. He never outright admits it, but saying 'I like you alive' to Johnny's 'so you do like me' speaks for itself. I smile at that. I have sunk my claws into him, and he's not going to be able to get rid of me till the day I die.

[yunppeo]

was it so casual to you?

pairing: choi yeonjun x reader.

warnings: none…? its a bit suggestive but youll live, uhh, angst angst

word count: 1.0k :p

NOW PLAYING: casual by chappell roan🎵

a casual night out for you consists of being with yeonjun.

someone you dont want to keep seeing but you always find yourself driving over to his place, sometimes even in the car with him as he picked u up.

and here u are, strapping your bra back on in the backseat of his car.

his hands remaining on your body, not going anywhere. you were used to his warm touch, but sometimes it felt different. like today, something felt.. off.

he seems to take note of your odd expression and spoke up.

“whats up..?” he sits up, getting closer to your face as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

“nothing.” he stares into your eyes for a moment, as if he knows youre lying.

“okay.” he kisses your cheek. normally this would make u happy, you would smile brightly but after finding out what hes been saying… you werent so happy anymore.

you bit your lip to contain yourself from saying anything else.

it was quiet the ride back to the dorms, you both felt the awkwardness albeit still didnt speak up. the only noise you found comfort in was the rain. you looked out the window admiring the falling rain.

he stops in front of your dorm building. you dreaded the idea of walking into your dorm after hanging out with him, knowing your roommate will be disappointed.

all of your friends have told you how much he was a bad guy. you didnt listen.

you clear your throat and open the car door, hesitating to look at him. “ill see you later.”

he wanted to tell you something but you had already closed the door and gone to walk inside.

“y/n.” your roommate greets you as you walk into your dorm and lay against the closed door.

“i hate myself for letting this drag on for so long.” your voice starts to quiver as tears start to fall. you slid down the door as hugged your legs.

your roommate immediately goes to comfort you.

“its hard being casual.”

your roommate pats your back, hugs you, does anything to comfort you. she makes you stand up and sit on the bed. she wipes your tears before going to her phone to text all of your other friends.

“im convinced he put you under a spell or something.” she laughs awkwardly trying to lighten the mood.

you stay quiet before the door slams open.

“y/n. are you okay? did he say thing to hurt you? ill set his dorm on fire i dont care.” your friend, hanni, immediately goes up to you.

“im fine, hanni.”

“thats bs girl.” she sighs as she examines you as if you were sick. “its gonna be okay.”

“y/n, i know youre gonna hate me for saying this but you need to talk to him.” danielle chines in, she looks at you with empathy.

“ill think about it.”

-

“y/n!” yeonjun calls out. its been a week since u last saw him. you ignored him hoping he would take the hint.

he didnt.

he ran and stood in front of you to stop you from walking. “you havent been answering my texts.. or calls.. are you ignoring me..?”

you sigh, trying to look for a way out of this conversation.

“lets talk about it later.”

“talk about what?” there was silence. “y/n?..”

“later, yeonjun.” you walk off, looking at people whispering about your interaction with yeonjun just now.

-

as you were walking to your dorm you noticed him standing right infront of your door. you wished you could have turned around and left. but you knew you couldnt avoid this any longer.

“y/n!” his face lights up a bit. making your heart clench.

you dont reply and just open the door to your dorm. you knew your roommates werent going to be there for anytime soon. it was the perfect time.. to talk.

you silently invited him in and he obliged.

the moment he closed the door, his hands went straight to your waist, leaving kisses on your neck.

“no, yeonjun.” you politely shove him off you.

“whats up with you!?”

“whats up with me?! me?!?” you scoff stare at him, shaking your head.

“you said no attachment, yeonjun. why are we doing this?” you look him in the eye, waiting for a response.

“y/n.. i..”

“what, yeonjun? am i not ‘just a girl you bang on your couch’? hm?” his eyebrows furrow. he didnt know you had found out about the things he was saying.

“say something, yeonjun.”

“im sorry.”

“thats all you have to say?” you scoff. taking deep breaths. “after you told me ‘we’re not together.’ what were we then? friends with benefits? what?”

he stayed there silent. he didnt know what to say.

“i hate you, yeonjun.”

“y/n wait.. hear me out.”

“no?! why should i? you kept acting like we were dating, but then you go on dates with other girls? kissing them, buying them gifts…”

he licks his lips. he had been caught.

“we’ve been doing this for how long, yeonjun..? ive met your family.. your friends.. all for nothing.”

“but i do like you, y/n..”

“clearly not enough.”

there was more slience.

“was it so casual to you..?”

“it wasnt! no trust me, y/n.”

“stop lying, yeonjun. i know everything.” you finally had enough of him.

“just go, yeonjun. dont ever contact me ever again. i dont want to see you ever again. get out.”

“wait y/n please.” he pleads.

“get out.” tears start flowing, yeonjun felt the need to hold you close to comfort you but he knew you wouldnt want that. from him atleast.

he took one last good look at you. taking in all your beautiful features. before walking out never speaking to u ever again.

it was.

[ficmashup]

Captive Patient

Summary: You join TF141 after something happened on your last deployment. They take you in and while it takes some time, you find yourself warming up to them, and them to you. Perhaps especially to the Captain.

A/N: Heavy Price-involved chapter! Took me a bit longer to write because it's a bit longer and because I wanted to get it right. Sorry for the wait! But, hope you enjoy. :)

Warnings: Vague SA mentions, illness, some crass language, so much fluff.

Word Count: 4.6k

Feral Masterlist

Shopping with Price is different than shopping with Simon.

With Simon, it’s all quick jabs and taking the piss with each other down every aisle. We were even scolded by the manager once when I sent a pack of jerky shooting towards his head with deadly accuracy. A single look from Simon had them scurrying away and I couldn’t stop giggling for two straight minutes.

It’s just…easy with Price.

“Grab the gnocchi for me?” I ask, pointing up at the item while I crouch and reach back to gather chicken stock on the bottom shelf.

“The what?” Price looks directly at the package with furrowed brows.

A smile pulls on my lips as I place my things in the cart before walking over to him. “Gnocchi? Just there.” I tap the bottom of the shelf and he reaches up to get it for me as he looks it over.

“The hell is it?” He asks and I chuckle, gently taking it from his hands and putting it in the cart as he looks at me.

“Like…dumplings? Little, pillowy potato bites. Never had them before, I take it?” I ask with amusement in my voice as he shakes his head, following me as we walk down the aisle again.

“Can’t say that I have. What do you do with them?”

“Other than eat them?” I tease, smirking as he gives me a look.

“I mean, how do you cook them?” He corrects and keeps pushing the cart as I grab a few things, add them to the cart, then slide back into place with him beside me. He coughs again, covering his mouth with his elbow while I listen closely. It’s a wet cough. Maybe he has some congestion dripping down the back of his throat?

I focus back on the conversation. “Hm, well, this time I’m making a sort of twist on chicken pot pie. Same ingredients go in one big pot and it simmers for a few hours, then you’re done.” I explain, unconsciously making hand gestures for the pot, stirring, and so on. There’s still a slight furrow to Price’s brow when I look back at him.

“Why not just make chicken pot pie?”

“It’s supposed to be easier.”

“But aren’t you missing the crust?”

“The gnocchi take the place of the crust.”

“The crust is the best part.”

I shake my head amusedly at his insistence, and slide in front of the cart as I gather a few things. “Look, I’m making it today. Why don’t you come try it yourself?” My hands freeze as I hold a package of chicken, my eyes not even seeing the price as I replay what I just said. This is the problem with things being so easy. I’m usually a bit more careful, a bit more on my guard, but like this…I say things without considering them first. But Price responds before I can take the words back.

“Alright.” He agrees and my eyes snap to his. Those pretty eyes crinkle as he nods, leaning against the cart. “And I’ll make you a real chicken pot pie this week. We’ll compare.” His smirk grows as I realize that I’m staring and I quickly shove the chicken into the cart before pushing it forward a bit.

“You cook?” I ask, struggling to keep my mind from spinning and my body catching on fire.

“Occasionally. I don’t set toast on fire like Johnny.” He chuckles and I relax at the sound, the tension fading from my shoulders as he moves back to my side. “I’ve taught myself a few things over the years. Pot pie was my mother’s favorite, so I taught myself how to make it.” That catches my attention and I can’t think about anything at all when he speaks in that soft, gruff tone.

“You made it for her?” I draw the obvious conclusion and he shrugs a shoulder, half-grinning.

“Tried to. She nearly spat it out the first time I tried. She, ah, she wasn’t the type of woman to hold back her opinions.” He recalls fondly and his eyes look off for a moment as if reliving the moment. My lips press together as I try to hide my smile as he looks back at me with a slightly sheepish grin. “But I got better.”

“Mm, I’d hope so.” I tease and take in the warmth in his eyes like a reptile in the sun before we move on.

*     *     *

It’s easy enough to sneak a few things into my cart that he doesn’t notice. I don’t have to ask him to help me take my groceries up to my flat, and its child’s play to get him to sit on my couch for a few moments under the guise of waiting for a cup of tea. He sits and I note how tired he seems when he thinks I’m not looking. He leans against the back of the couch with a heavy sigh. His eyes shut while his hands slide over his thighs and I try not to get too distracted by him as he spreads his legs to get comfortable.

Quickly, I grab the secret things I got from the store and set each in front of him on my coffee table. His eyes open, looking at me while his brows furrow. “Drink one of these.” I point to the bottled water and a glass filled with a golden liquid. (Electrolytes, lemon-flavored.) “Then we’ll wait a few minutes until I can take your temperature. If it’s higher than I like, then I’m keeping you here until it goes down.” It’s very clear that nothing I’m saying is a suggestion.

Price blinks at me. “What?”

I set my hands on my hips, fingers drumming over my hipbones. “You’re sick. You’re coughing, you’re feverish, you’re taking more deep breaths than usual as if you’re having trouble getting enough air. It’s also obvious that you’re exhausted and I’d guess you’re not sleeping either because of congestion or hot and cold flashes at night.” I look pointedly to the drinks I set in front of him and he slowly leans forward to take the water bottle, but doesn’t drink it just yet.

His eyes narrow at me. “So you decided to back me into a corner with the promise of a home cooked meal?” Surprise pulls his brows up, but there’s amusement and something almost like pride in his eyes.

I cross my arms over my chest and stare him down. “Yes. Blame yourself. You told me that you’re insufferable when you’re sick, so I took things into my own hands by making a tactical move.”

He can’t keep himself from smiling now and my stance softens just a touch at the sound of his soft laugh. “Damn. I’ll remember that when considering undercover missions for the team.” He leans toward me with his elbows on his knees, head tilted up at me. My fingers flex against my arms as I see him in this position and I beg my mind to pull itself together. “But I’m fine. No need to go to any trouble.” A particularly bad cough chooses this moment to rattle his chest and I give him a pointed look once he’s finished hacking his lungs up. He returns the look with all the innocence in the world.

“Right. Let’s test that theory.” I pick up the thermometer and hold it out to him, raising a brow when he doesn’t take it. “There are many ways to take your temperature, Captain. Either let me take it willingly or I will shove this up your ass.” There isn’t a hint of hesitation in my voice and Price’s eyes widen a touch. His jaw flexes as he thinks it over before sighing and accepting the thermometer.

“Starting to feel bad for the boys if this is the treatment they got when they needed fixin’ up.” He grumbles as he slides the thermometer under his tongue with the end sticking out between his lips. It’s almost like a poor imitation of his cigars.

“I only treat my stubborn patients this way. If you’re good, then I’ll be sweet as sugar.” I glance at the clock, noting the time so I can be sure he keeps it in long enough for the reading to be accurate.

“Bet you would be.” The words are barely spoken under his breath, but my eyes snap to his immediately. Tension stretches taught as a rubber band between us and my body goes hot as he shifts slightly in place on the couch.

“What was that?” I whisper, frozen in place as I wait for his answer.

“Said I’ll try to be good then.” He responds gruffly and our eyes are locked on one another’s before the thermometer beeps, startling us both. A deep breath vanishes down my throat as I steady myself. I lean forward and slip the thermometer from between his lips, not meeting his eyes now as my hand skims his cheek. My thoughts narrow as I see the digital numbers flashing up at me.

“101. Low-grade fever. Still insisting you’re not sick?” I shoot Price a scolding look while he huffs. I pull away and clean the thermometer and put it away while gathering a few other things. It helps to get a little distance from Price anyway. “Alright.” I walk back to him and press pills into his hand. “Take these and drink as much as you can. Rest. I’ll work on the dinner I promised.”

Price looks utterly dissatisfied. “You want me to sit here while you cook? That’d make me a poor guest.”

I smile and hum in amusement. “But a good patient. You can come sit at the counter, but I’m not having you do much until that fever is down.”

He stands up, shaking his head. “I feel fine—"

“John.” I use my firm voice, holding his gaze without flinching as I place a hand on his chest. We hold that position for a moment, neither of us backing down while I think about the best way to handle him. My stance softens and I sigh softly, leaning into him a bit so my hand pushes against his chest just enough to drive my point home. “You trust me to take care of our team, you trust my advice on missions, now I’m asking you to trust me enough to let me take care of you. Let me.” My fingers tap lightly over his heart and mine beats faster at the vulnerability of asking him for something. Especially since I’m asking for his trust.

His jaw flexes a moment before he sighs, a smile pulling on his lips as his hand slides over mine on his chest. “Fine, sugar. You got me.” He agrees at last and I swallow at the sound of his soft, deep voice as he surrenders.

“Thank you. Now, where do you want to sit?” I raise a brow, seeing if he actually meant what he said.

He shakes his head slightly as if he can’t believe himself. “The counter. I’ll lend moral support.”

I grin, tapping his chest twice before reluctantly sliding my hand off him. “Good. That’s the most important kind.” He chuckles and grabs the drinks I bought him before settling on a stool at the counter while I walk around it to start cooking.

“Think I’d take air support over moral support.” He comments and I chuckle as I get everything out.

“You think so? You’d take a chopper over having the team at your back?” I challenge with a smirk as I get out two cutting boards and knives before organizing what needs to be done. He gives me a look, but can’t keep the smile off his face.

“Touche.” He allows and amusement flits through me. Conversation continues to be easy and John actually behaves well enough after I give him a job. (Cutting vegetables for the soup.) We eat together and it takes me a few minutes to settle as we both sit together and eat. It’s been a long time since I’ve done something so mundane and while I’ve eaten here with Simon, everything with John feels different.

His gaze follows me around the room and the weight is comfortable, soothing, and the very fact that I like it makes me nervous. The only thing that keeps me steady is the fact that he still needs care because he’s sick. It starts getting later and later, but the only thing that I’ve managed to help is his congestion. At least he can breathe a little easier.

I’m curled up in a ball on the opposite end of the couch as I debate making him stay, hating the idea of sending him home to his empty flat. Especially since I know he won’t call me if things get worse. My mouth opens to at least start the conversation, but before I can get a word out, a soft snore fills the room. I glance over at Price with wide eyes to find his head tilted back on the couch cushions, fast asleep. My lips press together to keep in a giggle as I relax back into place.

His position isn’t putting too much strain on any part of his body and if he’s fallen asleep so easily, he really must’ve been having trouble recently with the dripping down the back of his throat. I’ll let him sleep like this a while, then move him to the guest room a little later. I find myself watching him. He looks utterly relaxed slumped on my couch, hands still resting on his spread thighs as soft, rumbling snores leave his lips and each one makes me smile. What’s truly surprising is how comfortable I am having him here. The last time I had a man in here was…a very long time ago. A one-night stand to scratch an itch. Then, more recently, I’ve started having Simon here.

Simon was a bit easier because we have an understanding. Scars that neither of us have voiced, but that we both can see. Scars that are shared. It’s been a give and take of trust with us, always keeping things even, keeping each other steady until we relaxed into friendship. I’d let him into my apartment for barely five minutes the first time since he was the one who invited me to tea. A fair exchange. Then he let me into his place for longer, then I did the same, until we spent hours with each other and found we no longer needed to keep score.

With John…he’s already given me more than I could ever repay. He let me on the team, provided a place for me to fit in, a job to focus on, and provided me with friends within that job, people I could trust and depend on. That’s why it’s so easy for me to find myself off-balance with him. He’s given me so much so freely and only expects me to carry my own weight. Maybe that’s how normal people are supposed to interact and I’m just fucked up, but whatever.

Gently, I ease myself onto my feet and turn the tv off. “John.” My voice is soft as I move close, but don’t touch him just yet. “Hey, John. Come on, I’ve got to move you or else you’ll regret it in the morning.” My foot nudges his boot and he sighs heavily, shifting in place.

“Hmph.” He makes a disgruntled noise and I can’t help giggling. That’s what entices him to crack one eye open. “Am I dreamin’?” His voice is low and gruff and sends warmth seeping through my body.

“Are your dreams the only place you make women laugh?” I tease, leaning forward and taking his hand in mine along with wrapping my other around his bicep. “Come on, I’m getting you to bed.” Slowly, I heave him onto his feet and grunt as I duck under his arm, the heat of his body searing my side as we shuffle towards my guest room.

“Don’t often get to hear your laugh.” He mutters, his eyes only half open as I struggle to guide him around my furniture. “Such a damn pretty sound.” My body is boiling from heat and I’m not sure whether it’s because of embarrassment or pleasure.

“You should tell me more jokes if you want to hear me laugh.” It’s the only thing I can think to say and the warmth gathering in my stomach isn’t helped by the soft chuckle he gives me.

“Not much good at jokes, but I’ll keep that in mind, sugar.” He nods once and a tingle slides down my spine at the little nickname. I wonder if it’ll stick. “Wait.” We reach the doorway to my guestroom and Price reaches out, catching the doorframe with his hand while the arm I have a hold of tightens around me. He blinks a few times and I see him trying to wake up. I can’t imagine how deeply he must’ve been sleeping to have this much trouble. On missions, he’s up and ready to go in seconds, has to be.

“Don’t start thinking now.” I tease lightly and keep gently tugging him forward. Tired eyes meet mine as he lets me. “You’re in my flat, I’m putting you in my guest room because it’s late and I don’t trust you to take care of yourself.” I explain as much as is needed and finally sit him down on the bed. He allows it with a heavy sigh and rubs a hand over his face.

“Sorry for falling asleep on you.” He shakes his head at himself and I smile softly, wondering if his despondency is due to thinking of how his mother that he’d cooked for would think him a bad guest.

“I wanted you to sleep.” I step closer and press the back of my hand to his forehead. The only light in this room comes from the lamp still on in the living room, the warm light spilling across the bed like a shard of amber. It catches Price’s eyes just right and leaves them half a clear blue, and the other half shadowed like a stormy sea. I nearly forget what I’m doing as I stare into them. “You…you still have a fever. I’ll check in the morning, but for now, some more rest will do you good.” My other hand rests lightly on his shoulder and I don’t realize until after I move away that it wasn’t for any reason. I just wanted to touch him.

The thought makes me flustered as I swallow. “I think I have something you can wear, if you’d like.”

Price raises a brow at me. “Don’t think anything you have would fit me.” He presses the toe of his boots against the heel as he slips them off.

I give him a look, though I’m glad he’s not putting up a fight about staying here. “Wasn’t planning on giving you my clothes. I think there are some men’s clothes still shoved in the back of one of my drawers from an old boyfriend.” Mentally, I look through my drawers and try to pinpoint where I left them.

“Hm. No, thank you, sugar.” He shakes his head and I focus on him again. “Don’t usually sleep in much anyway.” I blink a few times before quickly nodding.

“Right. Make yourself comfortable and I’ll be right back.” My feet carry me to the bathroom and I flick on the light, grabbing a washcloth and dampening it with cold water. I wring it out in the sink and purposefully don’t look at myself in the mirror as I walk out. I don’t need to think about what I’m doing and I’m afraid if I meet my gaze, I’ll start reading into all the thoughts spinning around in my head.

Next, I grab two bottles of water and head back into the room, nearly tripping when I see Price’s shirt and pants slung neatly over the end of the bed. His socks are also tucked into his boots just under the cuff of his folded pants. My steps slow and I curse myself for being an idiot as I set the bottled waters on the bedside table. It’s not like I haven’t seen him shirtless before. I’ve seen every member of our team stripped down to their underwear when we had to cross a freezing river in the mountains. Not to mention I’ve treated their cuts and scrapes, Price least of all, but enough to see most of him.

But this is different. This isn’t in the field with the team or on base with half a dozen nurses around. We’re alone in my home with no one to watch or check in. It’s just us.

Price coughing brings my head swinging back towards him and I frown, sitting on the edge of the bed as the coughs ease. “Your throat raw from coughing?” I ask as he sighs, nodding as he leans his head back against the headboard. “I have something for that, hold on.” My hands gingerly lay the folded, cool cloth over his forehead before I get up and come back again with cough syrup.

“That looks like it’s going to taste great.” He grumbles as he peeks at it and I sit back on the bed beside him with my hip pressed against his thigh. He’s pulled the blankets up a little past his hips so we’re…relatively decent.

I smirk and pour the thick, molasses-type liquid into the cap before holding it out to him. “Better than whiskey.”

“Hmph, bite your tongue.” But he takes it anyway, grimacing as it slides down his throat and he hands me back the cap. I screw it back on and set the container next to his waters which he instantly chugs half of to try to get the sickly-sweet medicine taste out of his mouth.

“Alright, I’ll leave you alone for the night.” I say softly, meeting his gaze as I think of anything else I can do. “Come get me if things get worse. I mean it.” I shoot daggers at him with my eyes and he only smiles warmly, nodding in acceptance.

“Yes, ma’am.” He agrees and I’m about to get up when I feel the pads of his fingers brush mine on the bed. “Thank you for this.” His gaze holds mine and I freeze as his fingertips ever so lightly slide up and down each of my fingers. “Been a long time since I let someone take care of me. Longer still since someone wanted to.”

“It’s…my job.” I reply and the words taste like a lie.

His fingers pause for a moment, then he continues with a slow nod. “If you’d like to think that, then that’s fine. I won’t push and your standing with the team and with me won’t change. I’ve never lied to you and I hope you can trust me that much.” My brows furrow and I nod. I’ve trusted him with my life and with knowing more about me than nearly anyone else. I trust him not to lie to me. His eyes still haven’t wavered from mine and I’m comfortably caught in them, his words only half-sinking in for now. “But I’m not here because you’re my medic. And I don’t think you’re lettin’ me touch you like this because I’m your Captain.” The words are gentle, wrapped in the warmth of his rumbling voice, but the actual sentiment is blunt.

I blink a few times, keeping my body absolutely still. John is patient and his fingers don’t stop moving against mine. Thoughts whirl through my head, most tinged with panic, but Price is still here, still steady, still keeping his eyes on me as if ready to talk me down or let me run out of here. He’s not saying this like it’s a problem. He’s saying this like he’s trying to break the news to me, as if I don’t already know, as if I haven’t been fiendishly ignoring every little flutter of warmth his every word or gesture gives me.

I finally move, reaching up and pressing my fingers to my temple as I try to think. “It sounds like you have something you want to do about that.” I say softly, feeling like we’re encased in a little bubble here and speaking too loudly will break it.

He quirks a brow at me, surprise in his eyes. “We could start with a date.”

Now it’s my turn to be surprised. “A date.” I repeat, my fingers curling just a touch towards his as he keeps petting mine.

“Mmhmm.” He hums a confirmation with his head tilting just slightly as he watches my reaction. It’s clearly not what he thought it would be.

“You want to take me on a date?”

“Yes, sugar.”

“You realize what a bad fucking idea that is?” My voice is still hushed, my brows furrowed with confusion while Price keeps watching me with that steady gaze. “Forget the headache it would be on base, the gossip, the paperwork, possibly screwing with team dynamics, but you’ve read my file.” My voice shakes, but I don’t break away from John’s gaze. I’ve never hidden myself from him before and I’m not about to start now. “You realize what a nightmare it would be to try and date me? Do anything like that with me?” My words are a warning, bright red and flashing.

“I understand.” He says levelly and glances down to our hands for just a moment. “But I’m used to nightmares, sugar. I’d be glad if you’d let me tackle yours by your side.” His eyes lift to mine and if there was any doubt that he was earnest, the sincerity in his gaze immediately puts them at ease. I bite down hard on my bottom lip as I try to use the dull pain to keep the tears stinging the back of my eyes at bay. “But you don’t have to answer now. Sleep on it.”

“I have limits and boundaries that I don’t even know about yet. Things…wouldn’t be easy. Do you really want to navigate landmines in your personal life and your professional life?” I push anyway, needing his answer if I’m even going to consider this. I need him to know what he’s asking for.

“I understand.” He repeats, his fingers still moving soft and sweet against mine. “Yes, I do.” My next breath is a little shaky as I take in his words and the certainty in which he says them.

“You should sleep.” I say quietly, shifting closer as I flip the cool towel on his forehead and don’t resist the temptation to let my fingers linger. My hand rests against the side of his face, my thumb brushing over his cheek while his hot skin brands me. “Ask me again tomorrow.” His eyes scan my face as he nods, agreeing. Neither of us says anything else as he gets comfortable in bed and I slip out into my own room, curling up underneath my blankets.

For a while, I lay there while my mind swirls. The tears come next and my sobs are quick and quiet as I try to wrap my mind around what John is saying. He wants me. He wants to try. He’s willing to face my nightmares and stay. When I eventually fall asleep with tears smeared over my cheeks, there’s a small, hopeful smile on my face.

Taglist(hello lovelies, lmk if anyone else wants to be tagged!):

@under-the-dirt @jj-ara33 @sorchateas @cherry-blosom-tree

@thriving-n-jiving @jinxxangel13 @emsstuff1 @missmidnight-writes

[killerhybrid]

Make sure you all have your sunglasses, it'll help in case Sun gets excited.

Sun: I'll try my best to keep calm!

Thank you Sun, here is Sun in his actual form. Much like Moon, he's very wyvern-like in design. His wings are longer though with no split ends. He relies on Soaring/Gliding flight, this means he doesn't flap a lot to stay in the air. This does come with a set back, he can't take off immediately like Moon does. He and other stars alike have to get a running start to get the wind speed up enough to create lift. With a powerful jump at the end to get them in the air. To stay in the air, he relies on vents of hot air that are produced in particular spots on land or sea. Much like vultures and other gliding birds do. This means he can stay in the air far longer than Moon as well as use less energy to do so.

He doesn't have any barbs but his body is covered in flames that he controls for the most part. This is usually seen emotion wise. That's why it's best for Sun to stay calm during this example. He can increase the heat of his body to that of an actual star, and get brighter as well. His body will always feel warm and his skin will be like poprocks. Sizzling with occasional pops here and there. You may see a small flame pop out from his head, wings or tail occasionally. Those would be solar flares and those are common. These are very hot and will catch things on fire, he must stay away from any area that's flammable.

He has spikes that rear upwards for defense but he can also breathe fire. This is incredibly effective as it leaves a lasting radiation poisoning on the victim or area. In fact, being in a certain radius of an angry star for a long period of time will leave you exposed to radiation. You will die slowly and painfully, that is why it's best to leave as soon as you see signs of this emotion. This alone is what makes stars so deadly. They don't even have to move to kill something. Many would consider it a blessing for a star to eat you rather than let you live to suffer the effects of radiation.

Sun: b-but I always do my best to keep calm and happy! Unless someone really...REALLY deserves it. Then I won't hesitate to do what is necessary for the benefit of others or myself.

Yeah, it's best to be careful around stars as they are far worse than a nuclear bomb. Some are friendly however! The best way that I've seen to earn one's trust is with food. Stars need to eat constantly to keep their energy up that they always burn. So feed, feed and feed, even if it's burnt. They can't really taste much as everything they consume is quickly incinerated. Liquids are rapidly evaporated, this means they also can't get drunk. Never enter a drinking contest with a star, it won't go well for ya.

Sun:*chuckles* I remember drinking the hidden stash of one of the imperial lords with Moon. He couldn't fly!

Hehe, alrighty Sun. I think I covered everything, if anyone has any questions. Don't hesitate to ask! Sun and I are here to answer.

Sun:*nods* Please ask! I always enjoy a good conversation!

[artyandink]

Light My Fire (Again) | beau arlen

Summary: “I thought I’d swore off love, Jenny.” I smiled, chuckling a bit as I looked down to my feet then back up the skies, taking in the twinkling lights. “God, I really thought I did, and I was doing such a good job at it too. But, well, I just… I couldn’t help it.” I wet my lips slightly, biting the bottom one. “It’s improper, but it’s true.”

SERIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

(divider credits go to cafekitsune)

one - green lights and red stains

TWO MONTHS EARLIER:

I was at my desk in Big Sky Country, Montana’s sheriff’s department, papers strewn over the desk in a similar fashion as they were at home. Making small mountains and also making me rather sympathetic for the trees who suffered just to have me keep ‘em all like this on another plank of wood on more sticks of wood. However, I couldn’t bring myself to clean them, not today. As well as that, the acting sheriff had made his speech today, and I knew if he’d talk to me, I wouldn’t make a great impression, not with all this mess.

“Ain’t this a sight?” I looked up to see none other than Sheriff Arlen, standing in front of me, his stance wide set as he peered at my scribblings which varied between neat and scrawling handwriting. I jolted a little, panic striking through me as I began to shuffle my files into a more orderly pile, but he held out his hand to put me at ease. “Nah, don’t worry about it. Truth be told, I’m not the most organised either.”

In response, I stood up laughing a bit as I ran my hand through my hair, the action not as smooth and easygoing as I hoped as my index encountered a knot in my raven hair which I quickly untangled. “Well, I’m afraid this is what you’ll be seein’ every day.” I gestured down in circular motions to the messy piles.

“Then I’m lookin’ forward to it.” He put out his hand with a broad grin, green eyes twinkling along with his startlingly white teeth. He had an air of giddy charm and confidence around him that I couldn’t help but crack a smile to. “Beau Arlen.”

“Isabelle Joyner.” I replied, shaking his hand firmly. His grip was strong, but comforting in a sense.

“Well, darlin’, I’ve heard some good things about you from Jenny Hoyt, or Hoyt, as she wants me to call her.” Beau chuckled at the thought, glancing towards Jenny, who was in conversation with Poppernak. “She’s a real firecracker.”

“That’s Jenny for you.” I smiled, nodding resignedly and also flicking my eyes to her. “She knows me better than anyone; we’ve been best friends for as long as I remember.” Then I spotted the uncertainty in his eyes as he once more looked at Jenny, and I laughed a bit. “She’ll warm up to you. She’s just a bit miffed, y’know, didn’t get put as acting Sheriff.”

“I learnt that the easy way and the hard way.” He snickered slightly, his shoulders shrugging. “Well, it’s a lesson well learnt.”

“Damn straight.” I grinned, putting my hands in my pockets, and we fell silent for a moment before it got a bit uncomfortable. “Anyway, welcome to Big Sky. I’m sure you’ll be great.”

“I goddamn hope so.”

NOW:

“Liv, sweetie?” I called up the stairs, my eyes darting back to the pancake cooking on the stove. It was half past eight in the morning, and I needed to get Olivia, my niece, to her stepfather’s house. Her mother - my sister - had been… lost. In a murder, six years back, but they’d never found who’d done it. In her will, she’d given custody of Olivia to me, that the court had approved. Her stepfather, Markham, was not happy, but there was little he could do.

“Yeah?” Came her sleepy voice from upstairs, making me laugh quietly. She’d grown so much since I got her as a timid nine year old. Now she was sixteen in a week and the most beautiful girl I’d ever see. She was my baby girl at this point, and I couldn’t be prouder.

“I’ve got work, hon, and I’m makin’ pancakes!” I heard a brief pause, then a scramble to get up. I smiled knowingly, returning to the pancake as the thunder of footsteps down the stairs signalled her arrival. Her blonde hair bounced in stunning curls and her brown eyes flashed excitedly, even though they were riddled with sleep. I passed her a plate of pancakes stacked up, shaking the whipped cream. “Mornin’, gumdrop.” I grinned cheerily. “What would you like on your pancakes, hm?”

“Whipped cream, syrup, and raspberries.” She replied instantly, then returned my smile. “And good morning, auntie.” Olivia gave me a bear hug, which I returned gladly, kissing her hair before letting her go with a pat on the back.

“Good choice.” I squirmed the whipped cream in a circle, grabbing the syrup bottle and drizzling it generously before passing her a bowl of freshly washed raspberries so she could knock herself out, also sliding her a fork and knife. “Dig in.”

“Hello, there!” I heard Jenny call, the door opening. Jenny and Cassie walked in with big smiles on their faces, especially so when they found the combination of Olivia and pancakes. “Hope you don’t mind, we just used the spare key under the deco rock.”

“And I’m glad we did, because why weren’t we invited to the party?” Cassie faux-gasped as she gestured to the pancakes.

“Elle, explain yourself.” Jenny chastised, raising an eyebrow at me, but when I passed them each a plate of pancakes, they melted. “Ok, no explanation needed.”

“Yep, we’re all good now, no beef here.” Cassie agreed, dolloping whipped cream on hers before passing the canister to Jenny. “Also, hi, Olivia.”

“Hey, Cassie.” Liv waved with a smile and a mouthful of pancake. “Hi, Jenny.”

“Hey, kiddo.” Jenny grinned, waving before digging into the pancakes.

“Never knew I’d be catering for four today.” I chuckled, turning off the stove and embellishing my own plate of pancakes, making it even more of a sugar rush than it already was.

“Well, now we get to boast to Beau about what we got cooked.” She replied with a cheeky smile. “He’s always returnin’ with clean dishes of what Denise cooked, so I guess we could clap back a little.”

“His favourite deputy cooked us pancakes and not him.” Cassie giggled, making me roll my eyes. These two.

“Shut up. Both of you.” I snickered, trying to remain stern. “If Sheriff Arlen wants pancakes, he can come over and I can make him some pancakes, it’s not exclusive.”

“And here I thought we were special.”

“Aw, hey, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“She did.” Olivia giggled.

“Yeah, she did.” Jenny gave me a look before we all burst out into laughter. We spent a bit of time chatting as we finished our pancakes, telling Olivia the ups and downs of our latest solved case and what movie we wanted for movie night this week. When we were done, I picked up my keys, jangling them.

“Olivia, time to go.” I smiled, but Cassie put her hand on my arm with a smile.

“I’ll drop her off.” She chuckled, holding up her own keys. “I know where Mark lives, and it’s on my way.

“You’re not exactly the most civil with the guy.”

“That’s cause he’s an ass, but I’ll try my best.”

We engaged in a staring contest for five seconds, until I gave in, nodding in defeat. “Fine. But if I get a call from my brother in law-”

“You won’t!” She raised her hands in surrender. “I promise. Now, you and Jenny need to get to work before Beau rings you up.”

“God forbid he does.” I joked.

“C’mon, he hasn’t had the heart to tell you off after you found the hostages a few weeks ago, one of them happening to be his daughter. Another Darlene.” Jenny teased, nudging me playfully.

“You two are really keen on setting us up, hm?” I raised an eyebrow, shaking my head. “You know I’m not that keen on dating. Not after…” I trailed off with a frown. It was a sore memory, one that ended with me waking up at the bar with five empty shot glasses and a bill with far more drinks than I’d usually take.

“After Harry.” She sighed, patting my shoulder. “He wasn’t your fault. After all, he did the deed.”

“He doesn’t know what he lost.” Cassie added sympathetically. “The ass.”

“I wanna kick him in the nuts.” Olivia added, making us all raise an eyebrow.

“That’s fair.”

“And on all of our minds.” Jenny grinned.

“I can’t even be mad.” I sighed, then kissed Olivia’s forehead. “Be good, ok? If I get a good report, I’ll make you an ice cream sundae tonight.” As Cassie and Jenny opened their mouths to speak, I held up a finger. “You guys get one too.”

I walked into the sheriff’s department with Jenny, and the first person we saw was Beau Arlen himself. “Well, ain’t it my favourite deputies?” He sauntered over with that charming grin of his, looking between us. “Hoyt.”

“Beau.” Jenny smiled.

“Sheriff.” I chuckled, running my hand through my hair.

“C’mon, Belle, call me Beau.” Beau chuckled, gesturing to himself. “No formalities here.” The statement made me laugh, but I shook my head, looking down at my feet before back up into those twinkly green eyes.

“I’ll try my best, Sheriff.” I teased with a grin, then took a sharp breath in, looking around. “Any cases today?”

“A missing person’s case.” Beau’s expression changed slightly as he mentioned it. “Little girl named Harriet Brown, she was out playing in the front yard, parents were arguin’, when they come out, girl’s gone.”

“My god.” I whispered, then cleared my throat. “We should get on the case, and quick.” I pouted slightly, sucking in air through my teeth. “Any leads? License plate? Footage? Maybe someone who has a grudge?”

“Closest to a match we have as an enemy is the girl’s stepfather, Will Brown. And by parents arguing, I mean the birth father and mother arguin’.”

“Stepfather, what, lays claim to the kid?” I asked, concerned. I knew what that was like all too well (and by that I mean the outskirts of those feelings), and if that was the case…

“Possibly. He’s the only recent frequent visitor.” Beau frowned at the look on my face, tilting his head a little in curiosity. “You look a lil’ green around the gills there, Deputy. You doin’ ok?”

I shared a look with Jenny, who subtly patted my wrist, signalling me to speak up. I jolted out of my thoughts, nodding and putting on a smile that I felt didn’t quite reach my eyes. “‘Course, Sheriff. I’m always ok.”

“You sure?”

“Deadly.”

Beau looked at me for a bit, trying to gauge my reaction, before nodding resignedly and patting me on the shoulder with a small smile. “A’ight. But if anythin’ comes to mind, do tell.”

“Gotcha.” I nodded, my blue eyes looking into his green ones. After I’d met Beau on his first day as acting sheriff, he’d understood me. He knew I was raising Olivia, albeit had never met her, and related to that with his own little girl. Emily was an angel, and I guess I became more of one after he found me getting along well with someone who was his world. As well as that, after the incident with Buck Barnes, I’d managed to find the hostages, including Darlene and Emily, getting them out.

Ever since then, it’s like he treats me as if I’m God’s gift to him. I was just doin’ my job.

I breathed in, then released a deep on through my mouth. “Let’s hit the house, Jen.”

“You got it, Elle.” Jenny smiled. I picked up my jacket, adjusting the photo of my sister and I on my desk as I put it on with a sad smile.

“I miss ya, Lucy. Truly.”

I was in Beau’s truck, the landscape flying by as we made our way to the Brown’s house. The atmosphere was uncomfortably silent - damn the awkwardness of social interactions sometimes - but somehow Beau made coping with silence look easier than it felt. He wore an easy smile, waffling on about fishing with a charmingly boyish look in his eyes that I’d come to recognise and find adorable.

“While I love talking and yapping about fish to the point your ears fall off, Belle, but, uh, don’t you wanna get that?” I was snapped out of my reverie, finding that my ringtone was playing with the name Dean flashing on my screen over the green circle of light representing the button to accept the call, which I’d gladly do.

“Oh! Yeah, that’s right.” My face lit up as I pressed the ‘accept’ button, bringing the phone to my ear. “Dean, hey!”

‘Isa, hi.’ I heard a cheery voice from the other end. This was Olivia’s birth father, Dean Barlowe, who I preferred in spades to Markham Leeds. I never understood why Lucy and Dean had split up in the first place, since Dean was the best father I’d ask for where Liv is concerned. We hadn’t had contact in months, but this was a pleasant surprise. ‘How’ve you been?’

“Oh, now I feel brilliant.” I laughed, looking out the window. “How about you? It’s been goddamn months, I’ve been dyin’ for a call.”

‘Well, I’m feeling great now too. It’s always nice to talk to you. A familiar face.’

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” I nodded with a happy sigh. “Are you holding up ok? After… Lucy? It’s been a while, but it hit you pretty hard too.”

‘Doing better, if that counts.’ I heard a pause on the other end. ‘Hey, do you think Liv would mind if I pop over for a visit in a week’s time?’

“For her birthday, right?”

‘Yeah. Mark wouldn’t be too mad, right?’

“Who gives a damn about Markham, just come over, ok?” I smiled, and I could practically hear his own relieved one on the other end of the line. “Liv’s gonna love the surprise, don’t you worry.”

‘You know exactly what to say to soothe my nerves, don’t you?’

“Hey, it’s nothin’. Just being a dutiful sister in law.” I saw an exit sign that said we were almost at the house, so I decided to wrap it up. “Hey, uh, Dean, I’m about to start working a case, so I’ll chat later.”

‘Ah, right. Thanks, Isa. Bye.’

“Bye.” I cut the call, and found Beau smirking at me, his eyebrow raised slightly. “What?”

“You seem real chummy with this Dean fella.” He snickered knowingly, but I shook my head rapidly.

“No, no, no. He’s my brother in law.”

“Wait, this is the ex-husband of your late sister?” Beau nodded approvingly. “By the way you’re talkin’ to him, he seems like he’s got his name written in your good books with sparkly gold ink. Unlike Mark.”

“Well, Mark’s an ass.”

“Markham is an ass.”

Beau, Jenny and I were flicking through the security tapes of the Brown house the day their little girl Harriet was kidnapped. “Look, there.” I pointed to the screen, where a man was approaching. “It’s our stepfather.”

“Damn straight.” Beau nodded, leaning forward to ID the guy’s face. “Yep, that’s him. And he just scooped the girl up gave her a lollipop and high-tailed it.”

“We need to get this girl back.” Jenny sighed, her expression pensive as she peered at the screen.

“We got an idea on where she could be taken?”

“Possibly his cabin. Witness accounts show that he’s been buyin’ a lot of bedding, more than you’d need.” I frowned, then stood up. “We need to bust this guy and fast.” I didn’t know exactly why, but this was pissing me off. A stepfather, kidnap his own stepdaughter.

“Let’s bust a crooked stepfather.” Jenny got up, and so did we, heading out the door, running to our cars as Jenny texted me the address, which I put into Beau’s GPS. We quickly got in, and Beau floored it.

“You seem rather frustrated on this case, huh, Belle?” He asked, sighing deeply. I shook my head, plastering on a smile that once again did not reach my eyes as I looked back at him.

“No, sir, I’m just concerned for the kid.” I answered not as smoothly as I’d hoped to have done. My voice was slightly shaky, and I knew what he was thinking. Mark had been after custody of Olivia for ages, and was still trying. However, he couldn’t do anything, not when I was named Olivia’s legal guardian and was Lucy’s next of kin.

“It’s about Mark, right?”

I chuckled lowly, nodding. “That obvious?”

“You’re like a mama bear in these cases.” He grinned, then patted my knee. “But now, I need my deputy to have a clear mind. God knows you help me keep mine all clear and sunny skies.”

“Gotcha, Sheriff.” I smiled as we pulled up to the house. “Hear you loud and clear.” I reached under the seat, pulling on my bulletproof vest and strapping it tight. I looked over, seeing that he’d done the same. “Shall we?”

“We shall, darlin’.” We got out at the same time as Jenny, making our way across the front yard before I tried the handle of the door, finding it locked. I nodded to Beau, who reared up and kicked the door open, all of us putting up our guns as we stormed the house. Jenny went to check the kitchen and living room, Beau heading upstairs while I took the basement. I crept down the stairs, treading light in fear of startling Will. I gently tried the door, hearing a little girl whimpering. Then I spotted a middle aged man holding a gun, and a small brunette girl hugged my legs, terrified.

“It’s ok.” I whispered, training my gun on Will Brown. “It’s ok, sweetheart. As for you,” My eyes focused on the man, “Sheriff’s department, put your hands where I can see ‘em-” He fired, and my trigger was pulled in a quick response, aiming for his shoulder while his bullet got me clean in the gut, which was caused by me moving to protect Harriet at the same time. The little girl screamed, while Beau and Jenny started yelling from upstairs. I collapsed against the wall, sliding down as Harriet crawled up to me, looking terrified.

“He hurt you.” She whispered, crying, but I shushed her and brought her head to my shoulder, ignoring the riddling pain in an attempt to soothe this little girl.

“Hey, it’s-” I was overcome by a cough as my hand moved to stem the flow of blood, “it’s ok, sweetheart. Perfectly fine, you’re safe, ok?” I stroked her hair, closing my eyes briefly as the red liquid stained my fingers. My head spun from how damn painful it was, like a thousand daggers piercing one spot on me, driving in slowly. “Just calm down for me, my friends are coming.”

As if on cue, Beau and Jenny rushed in, and once they realised that my attacker and Harriet’s kidnapper was downed, their attention turned to me. Beau instantly knelt in front of me while Jenny checked up on Will, his expression freaked out and pale. “Jesus- Jesus holy Christ, Belle, we’re gonna need a paramedic. Hoyt, call it in, now!” Then he turned back to me, putting his hands over the bullet wound to put pressure. I coughed slightly, hissing, but I kept stroking Harriet’s hair, not wanting her to get too scared.

“Just get her out of here.” I nodded to Harriet. “I’ll hold on, just keep her safe.” My bloodied hand reached out to grip Beau’s bare forearm. “Take her home.”

LMF TAGLIST:

@deans-spinster-witch @nancymcl @hobby27

Preview of Chapter Two

[blue-sadie]

Lost In The Woods

Anakin skywalker x Reader

Summary: sometimes his looks can cause you to follow along to his crazy plans

Warning: forest sex

Yn/3rd person pov

It was like being stuck in an endless loop the forest had no being or end, the tall trees disrupting the communications.

the soft sloshing of mud under our feet being the only thing you could hear I was furious how do I always get dragged into his stupid decisions how can I not say no to his stupid......dreamy face wait... what are you thinking he's dreamy his... a... idiot yeah an idiot.

I shook my head trying to get me to stop thinking about him "you ok there yn" aww his voice it made my heart want to melt... get your act together yn "fine" I muttered briefly turning my head to the side looking back at him as he trailed along behind me "anything from obi wan" he asked catching up beside me I rolled my eyes internally "nothing" I growled and gasped as he caught my wrist, pulling me to him "what is your problem" he said as his piercing blue eyes stared down into mine.

The height difference made me want to shrink back and disappear "answer me" he growled bringing his face closer to mine I gulped as my eyes flickered between his eyes and lips is he a good kisser? Does he think of kissing me "i-i" I had no words to speak was I really angry at him or more my self for following him? His presence confuses me "i-i isn't an answer, yes I get it i messed up and got us lost but doesn't mean you can be a bitch to me" my eyes snapped to his as he spoke, he waited for me to speak but when I didn't he just sighed and let me go and carried on walking without another word.

I internally slapped myself and sighed out before following a bit behind him and continued the walk in silence. We walked in till the sun was started to set and found a nice clearing to spend the night and like a unspoken conversation I went to collect the firewood and anakin went to found some fish in the near by river, I gathered the basics and started building the fire and later lit it and sat close by the flickering flames keeping myself warm as I waited for anakin to return. The forest was quiet except for the crackling of flames the shadows started growing closer as the night progressed I was starting to worry.

"Ani" I called out at any sound I heard my breathing started to quicken as I stood up staring into the dark distance "anakin its not funny anymore" I yelled as my legs started to tremble its been almost 2 hours "please come out" my eyes started to glisten as I looked around hopelessly "I'm right here" I jumped turning to him his usual grin plastered on his face but I didn't care and ran to him in embracing him "I was so scared" I whimpered hiding my face in his chest as he chuckled "I'm sorry" he murmured and stroked my hair "I found a imperial base we can raid in the morning for communication I was just scouting it out to make sure it's no threat" he explained and eyed me carefully as I pulled back.

I lazily wiped the small tear the ran down my cheek turning away from him "ok" I murmured and went to sit by the fire I felt awkward and scared I didn't want to make things weird between us we were always friends since he joined the order but over the years a strange tension formed between us "hey I'm ok" he said sitting beside me, I never liked being left alone for to long everyone in the order knew this and master yoda says it's gonna be my down fall it's because when I'm left alone I get lost in my head and over think things and has been some of the cause to our failed missions.

"What's happening in that brain of yours" he asked nudging me softly, I sighed heavily burying my face into my hands "what's not happening in my head" I laughed bitterly "you remember what obi says 'if you let it happen it will happen' he chuckled trying to mimick obi wans voice I glared up at him playfully "we both know sometimes obi wan doesn't know what he's talking about" I giggled remembering the countless times me and anakin proved him wrong "yea but he's old" ani laughed pulling me into his side his chest vibrating with his laughs, was it wrong to want to stay here forever? Just me and him.

"A-anakin" I murmured gazing up at him and admiring as the flames flickered in the mirror of his eyes "yes yn" he said his eyes staring back into mine "i-i wasn't mad at you earlier" I whispered making his brows come together in confusion "I was just f-frustrated with myself" I turned my attention back to the fire "why are you angry with yourself" he asked shifting himself to face me his hand grabbing my own in a comforting manner "I-I was angry at myself for how easy I follow you" I said and trembled as I felt his thumb started to graze over my knuckles as a comforting gesture.

"That's not something to be angry about surely" he tried lighten with the mood, I started to feel blush rise to my cheeks I was being silly "j-just forget about" I said and tried to remove my hand from his but he held tight "I won't forget about it yn" he urged me to continue explaining my behavior and my foolishness started getting into my head you can't tell him he'll just laugh and make fun of you, but he isn't that type of guy right? I stared blankly at the ground as I was stuck in my head, he likes padme he can never like you, I was caught in a daze into I felt his soft lips meet mine.

I stared horrified into his eyes but his were calm and full of care "get out of that brain and talk to me please" he pleaded huskily as he pulled back from my lips "i-i" I blinked trying to process what just happened "y-you kissed me" i was in shock and raised my hand to my lips which were kinda puffy from the kiss he chuckled nervously as he rubbed the back of his head as a slight blush dusted his cheeks "I'm sorry if I step-" he tried to speak but I brought my lips to his again our eyes flattering closed as our lips molded together this was the first time in ages I felt happy and complete and the voices in my head finally stopped.

His tongue slowly pushed into my mouth as his hands guided down my sides to my hips and urged me to move and sit on his lap my heart thumbed with desire as I straddled his lap my hands threaded themselves into his hair as his stayed on my hips "w-wait wait" I panicked an pulled back "what yn" he asked concerned and raised one of his hands to caress my face in worry "what about the rules" I murmured "about padme" my heart broke as I said her name his concern turned into a grin "yn nothing happened or ever will happen between me and padme what made you think that" he chuckled being my face closer to his, I tried turning away but his fingers grasped my chin "were you watching" he murmured I blushed from embarrassment conforming his suspensions making him laugh.

"Your so fucking adorable" he smirked before catching my lips in his once more "ani" I whined as he nibbled on my bottom him, his kiss was starting to get more passionate and rough with each passing second and his hands getting more touchy "god I want to fuck you so bad" he growled out as he moved his lips to my neck sucking harshly out my skin "f-fuck" I whined out squirming in his hold "if you keep moving like that I'm gonna go fucking feral" he hissed into my ear his hands planting my hips down onto his lap to stop me from moving.

"Ani" I moaned as I started to feel my panties dampen, his hands slowly started trailing up my leg and went under the fabric of my clothes, a shiver running up my spine as he stopped at my thigh he pulled back from me and his eyes darkened from lust and hunger he kissed me again as he slowly started pushing me to the ground his big body caging mine to the floor "fuck" he muttered as he ripped off his robes leaving him in nothing but boxers "anakin" I squeaked my heart almost beating out my chest as I looked over his body "like what you see" he teased making the blush come back to my cheeks he laughed at my reaction and started kissing my neck again as his hands started working on getting my clothes off.

My body heating up as I felt his hands touched my skin my hands threaded through his hair forcing his lips into my skin I want him, I need him "ani I need you" I moaned throwing my head back and heard him growl lowly "all you had to do was ask" he roughly ripped off my underwear and his and my mouth gaped at his size he was huge "fuck" I muttered biting my lip "it's all your" he growled moving his body closer to mine his cock teasing my pussy lips "please anakin" I begged and winced as he slowly pushed in the stretch causing me to cry out "fuck so t-tight" he groaned as he fully pushed in and waited for me to adjust.

"Y-you can move" I murmured and before he did he leaned down to my ear "that's a good slut" he growled before thrusting roughly into me "f-fuck ani" I cried out as my fingers dug into the forest floor with each thrust he forced moans out of me, his hands wondered to my breasts playing and pinching the nibbles "aww I can't wait till these are big when your pregnant" he groaned his head tilting back I gasped "what" "do you think I'm gonna pull out slut your mine now and I want everyone to know" he chuckled darkly as he quicken his thrusts.

My heart flattered as he said those things "would you like that everyone knowing that I own you" he muttered I nodded eagerly and started moving my hips back into his making him yell out in pleasure "such a good slut for me" he groaned and used one of his hands to rub my clit "and good sluts get to cum so cum when I get to 1" he murmured his eyes piercing mine "10" he started kissing my breasts leaving hickies along my chest "9" my breathing started to quicken as I felt a knot start to form in my stomach "8" I closed my eyes and my mouth formed an o shape "7" his thrusts started to faulter as his cock started to twice.

"6-6" my moans started getting high pitch as I felt the knot tighten "5...4" my body started to spasm and tense underneath him "3" his groans and growls were louder and his breathing rigid "2" he yelled out "1" I screamed out as I cam my body shaking as he coated my insides with his cum I panted as I tried calming down "thank you" he sighed out pecking my lips and carefully flipped us over so he was on the ground "a-aren't you gonna pull out" I whispered and shivered as I felt a cold breeze on my back "nope" he grinned grabbing his torn robes and covering the both of us I cuddled into his chest and we both sat in silence watching the fire burn

"I love you yn I hope you know that".

Tag.List

@neteyamyawne @sweetirilly

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

9 Days of Lancaster Training

It was eerie, camping in the town square. By their very nature search and rescue operations don’t try and hide at all, can’t, even. It set my teeth on edge, but it was necessary.

“We’ll be training a little too, but we’ll try and keep it down.” I let Ren know. He was scrapping some dinner together and some other meals. We'd found perishables that the bandits hadn’t bothered to take and would literally rot if we didn’t eat them.

Ruby had wondered if that made us better than the bandits but together the three of us convinced her otherwise.

From, “you can’t give it to anyone.”

To, “you can’t save it for later.”

And fervently, “all this in all these empty houses will be rat food if we don’t eat it now.”

She gave in but didn’t eat much.

She was stressed, they all were. Especially considering how far we just got set back in terms of our travel time. Money really wasn’t an issue. Huntsmen could make a living anywhere and with communication down…

With communication down the law of the land in most places was whatever the guy with the most fighting power said it was. Who were you going to call and how were you going to call them and what would they do by the time they finally arrived to do something, if they ever came at all?

Huntsmen will have even fewer problems making money anywhere. Perhaps too few.

I set another log on the campfire. There was a flare of sparks and the fire snapped a few times at me. I stared at them like the patterns they made would reveal something to me but there was nothing at all.

Nora was already turned away from the dim light in her sleeping bag. Ren being emotional had evidently exhausted her beyond her energy.

Ruby had found a clearing she liked as we’d set up camp and I followed her there now from the campsite. I hadn’t bothered to take my armor off at any point. I needed to get used to it and I’d do it by wearing it sixteen hours a day, more, probably.

“You’ll probably need a whole new fighting style, I mean, have you ever practiced with a broadsword?” She chatted as we walked.

“I haven’t but a sword is a sword.” What’s so hard to understand about swish-swish-stab? A lot, to be honest. “I’ll be able to figure it out.”

“I know some of my uncle’s moves.” Ruby continued. “Would they help?”

“I’m bad enough that they literally couldn’t make me worse.”

She looked like she wanted to hit me for that but couldn’t because she was about to hit me anyway.

I stared at her from the side, watching her pink lips move out of the corner of my eyes. She reached up while she was talking and brushed her short red and black hair over her ear with one hand.

She was building up contained excitement like a diesel engine getting warmed up and I had to smile. Once she started talking it released like a wave and I found myself nodding and listening along as she carried on the better part of three conversations at once.

 “A lot of his moves are horizontal, it’s hard to swing a sword that big upwards. The ground gets in the way. His most powerful attacks are usually ones that come downwards, though, using gravity. His weapon is different, you know?” I did, I was confident she’d told me, at least. I’d hear it again, though. "It’s a broadsword with a similar scale to yours but also turns into a scythe, and, unlike yours, it has a gun too.” She looked at me to make sure I was listening. I was entranced with her lecture.

"It’s actually a lot more complicated than yours but you’ve always been simple," she continued.

I agreed so, I nodded.

“I don’t mean simple like that. I mean simple like- well, you know.”

I did, so I nodded.

“But every person is like that, everybody is unique.”

“-what?”

 “Weapon!” She corrected herself a tad-little loud. “Every weapon is like that.” She glanced at me.

She dared me to call her out.

I couldn’t possibly.

“I really don’t know much about fight with shields, though, I’m sorry I won’t be more help. But like I said, swing downwards instead of upwards and it’ll help.”

I grimaced. If I swung the broadsword down, I’d need to lift it up again. It seemed obvious but the thing was heavy now. I’d need to do it as little as possible to conserve energy.

I watched her spin away from me into the clearing.

It took me a second to realize she was waiting for me and I stepped opposite her and drew the broadsword from my back.

Ruby’s scythe extended and she reversed her grip on it, holding the weapon behind her back. I didn’t think for one second it was an opening. I couldn’t cross the distance between us before she would move.

Still, I knew if she were willing to spend ammunition on a sparring match, then I would be the one forced to approach. In the spirit of that I charged at her anyway.

I committed to an attack with Crocea Mors, swinging from my shoulder down at her. She danced out of the way, her footwork was tight and fast. She was able to stay just out of my range, dipping in to slice across my breastplate with her scythe before I could bring my weapon around again.

It was enough to buffet it and I was encouraged further to back up when she rolled the scythe around her body in an upwards diagonal arc.

It wasn’t where I wanted to be, backing up was so much worse than side stepping. On the back-foot your opponent could charge and stand and fight you.

Pyrrha had hammered that into me none-too gently. Sometimes she used her shield as the hammer.

Sometimes she hadn’t.

Ruby stepped with me, staying inside where I would feel comfortable with the sword.

I lashed out with my foot in a clumsy kick, balancing the sword’s weight with my own mass and all my armor on just one leg with little practice. The kick flat out missed and Ruby had the good grace not to laugh. She did catch the leg I was left standing on with her scythe and yank me off my feet.

I felt myself whirl through the air and land flat on my back.

“Sorry Jaune.” She smiled down at me sheepishly. I couldn't be mad at that.

I got to my feet shaking my head. “I’ll get over it. I’m not afraid of looking like an idiot.” I leveled the broadsword at her. “I still have plenty of aura for you to beat out of me.”

She took that as a sign to continue and this time she rushed me.

I sidestepped lashing out with Crocea Mors into the space I had just occupied. It collided with Crescent Rose’s barrel with a heavy metallic clank. The weight was enough to stop Ruby’s momentum and she squealed adorably as she strained against it and the noise she made was enough to distract me a little.

She retreated spinning the crescent behind her, before she reversed again, rotating once more towards me in whirlwind of red and steel.

“How are you not getting dizzy?” I implored.

She giggled at me for that like I was just being just so extra silly when I truly did want answers. It sometimes felt like I could barely stand up without my head spinning and here she was like a top.

I raised Crocea Mors and blocked the blade of Ruby’s scythe with a grunt. I turned my wrists to block her next attack when she came around the other side.

I like to say my efforts impeded her but really she just hit me three times anyway.

Her blade swept across my stomach, glancing off my armor. I threw out Crocea Mors to try and gain some space, but she simply stepped back then back in and hit me hard in the side of the head with the back of Crescent Rose.

I stumbled back but she was all over me sweeping her blade towards me and chipping away at my aura. I grunted lowering Crocea Mors to defend once again. I blocked then thrust my blade out and swung it upward, Ruby easily dodged the thrust but wasn’t ready for me to continue my assault. I rushed forward. She jumped, elegantly dodging the attack with her semblance and a flare of red petals.

She flowed to my right like water before she zipped to the left with vanishing speed and seemed to hit me from behind as her scythe extended to a nearly impossible range. She threw me off balance. Her scythe was a spinning blade of death that sunk deep into my aura, shredding away chunks of it. I stepped back like I was going to retreat but I whipped the blade out and I clipped her side.

She rolled with the attack to the ground to avoid me chasing her, but I had stopped.

The sword made a meaty noise when it hit her, it was the first time I’d hit anybody or anything with it and I immediately regretted how hard I had swung it and that its first target was Ruby besides.

We were just training, and it wasn’t like she was out here swinging to hurt me. I winced slightly. She looked a little winded. Her hand dropped down a little. I shouldn’t just be throwing out haymakers at her.

Duh, Jaune, what a way to say thank you.

Her body shimmered with soft red light as she recovered, getting to her feet. I let her rise unassailed; in a real fight I’d be all over her; I wasn’t above hitting someone while they were down, after all, the world had no problems doing it to me, but this was just training.

“Are you alright?" I asked, my eyes roved her body, looking for any sign of injury. Her hand rose from where I had hit her, and she nodded.

I was sure Ruby could go toe to toe with nearly anyone, I’d seen her fight Yang and Pyrrha. But my sword weighed as much as either of them did, soaking wet in full gear. And unlike a potential Yang based weapon, Crocea Mors had all of that force condensed into a tight blade.

Ruby’s own weapon was spindly in comparison and for a moment I wasn’t totally sure that I wouldn’t crack her barrel in half if I came down really hard on it.

“I’m fine. That hurt, though, you’ve gotten stronger.”

“It's the new sword, it’s heavier,” I dismissed. “It’s easy to hit things hard with a giant sheet of metal.”

“Well, I’m sure that's true, too.”

I continued to look her over. I was thinking about her hit and run fighting style.

That old big kicker-why?

Why did she bother retreating when she was so strong? It wasn’t just a fighting style preference. I was beginning to suspect that she needed to. She needed to dodge rather than block and she couldn’t afford to tank hits like I could.

She wasn’t weak - it was impossible to think that, really. It was honestly weird to think about her as fragile, too, even with the evidence right in my face.

“How am I doing so far,” I managed between pants.

I decided I would give her a moment to catch her breath, if she needed it. It looked like I had knocked the wind out of her, even through her Aura.

“You need to move more, you stand too still.” It was familiar advice, and it brought me back to rooftop training sessions with another redhead. I changed tracks, not wanting to think about Pyrrha right now.

Thinking about Pyrrha only made me want to train. I wanted to train and fight until I was strong enough to kill Cinder.

It was fucking bullshit that Cinder got to walk around while I didn’t even get to bury Pyrrha. I shook my head, thoughts of revenge clearing. I had a long way to go until I could hold a candle to the woman who killed my partner.

Besides I was training now, I couldn’t be more training than I currently was.

“Well it’s hard to keep up with you in terms of movement,” I deflected but made it clear I agreed. Standing rooted like a tree would only serve to cost me precious aura. Plus, now I had two sources telling me to get my ass in gear and move around the battlefield. Not that I’d ever ignored Pyrrha’s advice but sometimes lessons took a while to stick.

We started again.

I slashed two wide arcs at Ruby, and she ducked under one and deflected the other. The large sword wasn’t cutting it for me right now, but the point was to train with the new form. My movements were telegraphed with the broadsword, much more so than with the bastard sword and the shield would also allow me to defend myself from her wild slashes better, but the point of training right now was to learn how to use the new length to my advantage. It was not necessarily to use the best weapon for the situation.

She hit me twice with Crescent Rose before I felt the blade swing around me. She traded places with it, swinging me and herself in a sort of orbit connected by her weapon. She brought me around in a wide arc before she used a tree to halt her moment and mine. I could only watch as Ruby effectively pulled the blade towards her and through my aura.

It clotheslined me hard into the ground and made a loud gonging noise as it her blade dinged off my freshly polished armor. I lay there on the ground with my chest flashed with soft golden light as my aura flickered. Ruby seemed to realize that I’d had enough and stepped back, folding her scythe behind her back as she did.

I tried to rub my chest through my armor for a moment before managing to puzzle together that it wasn’t helping. Even through the protection granted by my soul and armor it was enough to sting.

I sat up and just tried to focus on breathing.

Ruby sat down next to me. Plopping down in her skirt with practiced ease.

“Was it really okay to re-forge Pyrrha’s weapons like that?” Ruby asked. “I know I sort of talked you into this. I didn’t mean to make you do something you might regret.”

I understood the sentiment immediately, but this felt right.

“Her sword was in pieces and it would only have served as a reminder that she wasn’t actually invincible,” I began. It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about it. “And I’m sure that she would be fine with me using her shield to defend myself, too. And you know there’s going to be something satisfying about killing Cinder with a weapon reinforced with the one she broke.” I chuckled lightly at the morose thought.

“Well, I guess it’s okay, then?” She struggled to find something to say after that. “I’m sure you’re right.”

We sat quietly together in the forest lit by moonlight. It wasn’t a full moon, like the night before, but still plenty bright.

“Jaune…” She trailed off.

“Yeah?” I answered anyway, ignoring her hesitation.

“About Pyrrha…” She pressed on.

“What about her?” I could talk about her, with Ruby of all people, at least. I didn’t particularly want to, but I would.

“Did you and her ever…”

“No, we didn’t. I didn’t know until it was too late.”

“Oh.”

I realized my fingers were brushing my lips. The rough material of my gauntlets was nothing like Pyrrha’s lips and my fingers tasted like sweat and grime.

So soft.

I remembered the way she’d kissed me before she left. It had been desperate but with a certain finality. She’d known she was sending her valedictions to me at the time.

I’d known too.

“She was a really good friend...”

“The best.” I agreed readily. I wasn’t sure where she was going with this.

“Would you have?” She grimaced looking pained. “Sorry.”

“I don’t know. Alright? I really have no idea. I don’t get to know.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Ruby slipped into silence and I watched her fight herself again for a long minute. “But she wouldn’t want you fighting Cinder.”

“Well of course not.” Hell, the last thing she’d done was push me into a locker and not give me the choice of dying with her. Which I wasn’t bitter about at all. “But that doesn’t change how I feel. So, I’m still going to.”

“But…” She trailed. Her concern was like a fire, it flickered out towards me but there was nothing for it to catch onto. I was already burnt down inside.

“Hey look.” I pulled my sword over to where we sat. “You wanted to see how the mechanism works, right?” Anything for a change in subject, literally anything. It was weak but Ruby seemed to understand.

She just nodded and listened while I went over the weapon with her. I could tell that she remembered how the mechanism worked part of the way through his explanation, she’d helped design it, after all. She just needed the refresher, but that was it.

I explained all of it anyway.

[liliansun]

OUR LAST KISS : 18 : pick up the pieces

wc : 0.9k : warnings : get the tissues

after everyone decided that a game of rock paper scissors would be best to choose who would pick between cleaning up inside or outside, they all sighed with no surprise that neowa beat everyone. she fortunately made it even, having six of the boys clean inside and chose the lucky lover boy of the evening to help the girls clean up outside. since the fire was still going, it helped them all stay fairly warm while they did their part.

“there’s not much left if you girls want to go head and get cleaned up for the night.” jaemin’s voice caught all of their attention, making four out of the five smile with knowing grins on their faces. “i can stay back and help you finish so it’ll be done quicker.” mal suggested, feeling the stares of her friends. “alright, you too stay warm.” sal said with a smile as she, joy and neowa head for the door to join the rest.

the two continued to pick up the trash in silence, stuffing it into the designated bags that they had set up to make the process easier. “so how’s your project going?” mal wasn’t sure what caused her to spark conversation, seeing how she hasn’t been talkative with him for most of the first day of the trip. jaemin put something into a bag, brushing his hands as he stood up straight and looked her way. “it’s going, my partner has a busy schedule so we meet whenever we can to get it done faster.” jealousy bloomed in mal’s chest, a sour feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.

“i bet she’s only meeting with you so much because she likes you.” the words fall out of her mouth before she has time to comprehend what she said. jaemin’s expression, that was one joyful, turned into something boarder line of confusion. “where did that come from?” he takes this moment to sit in a chair that was near the still warm fire. she sighs, noticing his halt on their progress and opts to take the seat next to him. “dunno, just thought a pretty girl would get your attention.”

he’s leaning forward, propped up on his elbows as they rest against his legs while looking over at her. “you already have, princess.” the sweetness of his tone doesn’t take away the feeling she has, the thoughts of him with another girl who she’s never met yet, but can already tell likes him more than she hoped. “don’t mess around, you know what i’m talking about.”

“then tell me what you’re talking about.” she scoffs, bringing her hands to her face and rubs them against her skin. “c’mon jaem, you know as well as i do that you’re gonna fall for her the second she bats her eyes at you.”

“why do you do this?”

the question threw mal off, unable to look him in the eye so she instead stares at the fire that’s starting to dim in light. “every time we make progress, you push me away and every time i try to get close to you, you throw up your walls.” the truth hurts and mal was feeling the weight of it all, because he wasn’t wrong. “this wasn’t about me.” she mumbled, fiddling with her sleeve as the tries to direct his attention from her. “then what is it about?”

“mal, i keep putting myself out there for you, being patient with your back and forth emotions when it comes to what we are and what we could be, but i can’t keep giving my heart to you if you’re not gonna take it.”

his words hurt her deeply, feeling the tears swell in her eyes. she didn’t know what to say, whether she should apologize and hope that he’d still want her. there was another part of her that was scared to get hurt, even if she knew he’d never purposely hurt her, but she couldn’t take the risk in it either. the gamble in her mind went on and on as the two sat in silence. jaemin was staring at her, noticing the two streams rolling down her cheeks.

“maybe you shouldn’t wait on me then.”

those were the words he didn’t want to hear, those exact words were the ones he dreaded. his lips parted, his mind telling him to tell her how much he cared for her and how badly he wanted her to want him. his heart was telling him otherwise, telling him that in order to stay healthy, he can’t subject himself to anymore uncertainty if she herself is telling him to walk away. the decision weighed heavy on him as he stood up from his chair, grabbing the last bags of trash before walking up to the house.

mal was left, watching the fire die out in front of her as she silently cried to herself. she thought she’d be okay with him leaving if it meant he wouldn’t risk being hurt by her, but her fears of being heartbroken were all too true now. she had broken her own heart even after she was scared he’d do the same to her. some time had passed as she sat watching the smoke pass in the wind till she heard the rushing of her friends, not looking up to meet their worried gazes.

it wasn’t until she felt joy’s arms around her when she completely broke down. all the girls wrapped their arms around mal, holding her and soothing her as she sobbed into joy’s shirt. they weren’t sure what happened when they left, but they knew they would be the ones to pick up the pieces.

summary : he was cute, he knew how to poke at her soft spots and he knew what to say to make her laugh, but mal wasn’t like any other girl. she knew his type and she knew they’d never get past messing around in the night and forgetting about it during the day. so why is he always on her mind, even after he left? guess that last kiss he gave left more of an impact on her then he thought it did.

prev : 19 : see you around : masterlist

taglist : @dinonuguaegi @shwizhies @jaylaxies @dearlyminhyung @minkyuncutie @cutesince2000 @haechansbbg @i6renj @luv4jeno @softieluvsyou @haechology @nanawrlds

[twstbookclub]

In a different view

this is a continuation of Faded Away, but in a different POV, Sebek's side of the story. If you have not read Faded Away, please do so now by clicking HERE.

Summary: Sebek was always by their side. Watching as they went about life as the supposed future heir of the Draconia family, betrothed to Malleus. While he was used to watching, he could not help but wish acting was part of his role as well. Pronouns: Gender Neutral POV: 2nd Admin/Writer: Kai⚔️ Tags: Sebek Zigvolt, Angst, Romance, Angst without a happy ending, Hurt, Hurt no comfort, a continuation Word count: 3,408

A/N: Please please PLEASE read the previous Malleus fic first if you wish to get the full context. While it is not needed, it does add a bit more to this story and why everything turned out the way it did, and why Sebek's POV is so important!

Thank you and enjoy!

He had mixed business with personal feelings. As a retainer for Malleus, he had to stay out of the way, but he couldn’t. You were so gorgeous to him, but he could never admit that. At least, not openly. He had always heard about you and your wonderful personality from Malleus, even his master being subtly mesmerized by your memory. He’d never seen this side of his idol before, which only made him curious about who you were, and he would find out.

You were happy to be around the castle during the springtime, especially in Malleus’ rose garden. The flowers and warm sun mixed with the cool air were some of the best parts of the season. You heard grass crunch from just a few meters away, and it caused you to turn around. You were met with a pair of sage green eyes.

The boy stood there in surprise, frozen in place with his hands to his sides. “It’s not what you think. I wasn’t following you—”

“Sebek, right?” You asked, smiling and looking confident in your answer. You hadn’t met all of Malleus’ main guards, but you were familiar with their names. “I hope I’m right. I was told Silver was named as such due to his hair, but you’re the half-human, half-fae Sebek Zigvolt.”

Sebek stood in place. He couldn’t look away from you. Your smile was as bright as the sky, and the flowers couldn’t compare to how you looked natural in this setting. “You’re correct. I–I apologize for not introducing myself sooner.”

You shook your head and laughed reassuringly. “There’s no need. I haven’t been outside as much as I want to. I’ve been spending most of my time in Malleus’ study or in my own home,” you said, approaching him and bowing slightly.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Malleus’ fiance,” you said warmly, your radiance never faltering. That glow around you made him more curious. He needed another moment with you, even for 5 minutes, to find out more.

Whenever he could, he’d talk to you and learn more about you. In the beginning, his conversations with you meant nothing. Although, the more you talked, the longer he would see you. The longer he saw you, the more he understood why his master was so hellbent on keeping you by his side.

Sebek gave it some thought—it made no sense to him. He would wake up and long for a way to look at you, talk to you, or just be in your presence. He wanted to be acknowledged by you, but one question would deter his mind into a questionable state.

One day, you were standing with Sebek in the kitchen. Your hands worked on a dish to present to Malleus as a belated birthday celebration. You knew that Malleus didn’t like big cakes, but you never knew the reason. You were decorating a cupcake instead, and you decided to make a homemade pint of ice cream.

You remembered Malleus talking about how the cooling sensation felt nice against his fire-breathing mouth. It was common for you to bring him ice cream every weekend when you two were children. You decided on mint, not only because it was cooling but because its greenish-teal color reminded you of your fiance.

Sebek was there to watch and help you in your task. He watched how you handled everything with care and precision. His eyes drank in the way you squeezed the piping bag with gentle hands; the way your own eyes lit up when you finished icing the cupcake; the way you placed the glass bowl down with your pinky cushioning its descent.

“I think Prince Malleus will enjoy this a lot,” he commented in a soft tone, which was unusual. Before you responded, the door to the kitchen opened.

“Enjoy what a lot?” Said the voice, and your gaze darted to Malleus who approached the counter with curiosity. “Oh—”

Sebek would look at you and instantly see you brighten at the sight of Malleus. “Malleus! Ugh, you couldn’t have stayed away from the kitchen until later?” You whined, giving a playful pout. “Now, why would I have to be restricted from visiting my own kitchen?” Malleus responded, then stopped when he saw the cupcake. “Hm? Who’s that for?” 

You sighed and presented the small plate to him. The cupcake was chocolate with white and green icing, then black sprinkles. You had a cheeky smile on your face and tilted your head. “If you would have waited like I wished, I could’ve brought both gifts to your study. Belated happy birthday.”

“Both gifts?” He asked, taking the dish from your hands. He knew you wanted to celebrate his birthday that you had missed, but he didn’t think it would be so simple.

You looked at Sebek and smiled. The expression snapped the boy out of his trance, watching how you and Malleus interacted. Sebek simply nodded and took out a pint-sized container. After that, he would move back and stand guard. You and Malleus were peaceful, making the moment playful by spreading ice cream and icing on each other’s faces.

His eyes took in every detail of your expressions, laugh, and playful attitude. He could never make you feel that way. How could he ever compare his love to the love you feel for Malleus?

How could he want his master’s praise when he became infatuated with you?

Sebek had no reason to deny his feelings. He disliked humans for their weakness, but you were a fae who endured becoming a mere pawn in a game of a predestined life. You never complained, not when he knew that you loved Malleus so much. Your love for him only grew more prominent every day.

It was wrong. This was his future king’s lifelong partner.

That’s why it was so surprising to watch it all crumble before him. He tried to call you from down the hall. Seeing you aimlessly amble without your usual radiance was concerning for him. You acted fine when he greeted you moments ago, but you looked pale and dull—like you had witnessed something horrifying.

He slowly followed you out of the castle to ensure you were alright. He froze, eyes slightly widening when you suddenly collapsed in the snowy forest.

You were crying. Why? What could make someone as strong as you cry? Your shrill, gut-wrenching screams made the birds in the trees fly away from fright. What happened? You always noticed his presence, but you couldn’t even look at him this time.

Your body hunched over as your bare fingers dug into the snow-covered ground. Malleus told him how much the first snow meant to you, even advising him and Silver about not bothering you when the dust would begin to fall.

What could he even do this time? He wanted to help, but he couldn’t disobey his master. He felt weak, like a human. 

Screw this.

Before he realized it, Sebek brought you back up as gently as possible. He was still bewildered, not knowing what was okay to do now. He never had to comfort someone before, and he was usually abrasive with others, but he couldn’t be that way with you. Your eyes landed on him, then your hands clung to his clothes. He understood that you just needed a shoulder to cry on. He didn’t know what else to do, so he carried you to a safe place to relieve your sorrows.

When you calmed down, Sebek sat at a distance from you and waited. Waited as quietly as he could. Once you had a steady breathing pattern, he finally spoke.

“Why were you acting that way?”

You could only look up at Sebek with gloomy eyes, taking a deep breath to explain how Maleficia called off the engagement; how Malleus protested against the queen about having to marry another. You explained to him how you accepted it without a complaint and with a smile.

“He always rejected me, anyway. Maybe his new fiance will change him.”

Sebek was met with doubt. He was dumbfounded at what he was told. Speechless, even. He felt guilty, but he left you alone to rest in his bed for the night and even left you a change of clothing after your bath.

You could only appreciate his kindness and bid him a good night. “May the Seven be with you, Sebek.”

After a few days, Sebek stood before the doors to Malleus’ study, contemplating whether to talk about what he had been told. He thought about it, vividly remembering your tear-stained face. He felt guilty once again. He secretly enjoyed having you cry in his bed and talk to him about the situation these past few days. He wanted you in his arms again. He wanted you to need him for comfort.

“What am I even doing?” He asked himself. He had every reason to. Since he became a retainer for Malleus, he never doubted or went against his master. It amazed him just how much a person can change because of another, someone loved and cared for.

Sigh.

Enough stalling. He had to talk to Malleus. Sebek opened the door, yet he instantly stopped at the sight of Malleus, Maleficia, and the rulers of another kingdom gathered together.

There was another woman. Why did this woman feel familiar, yet so foreign?

His master was on one knee and holding the hand of that woman. The green eyes of the master he adored met Sebek’s own. All he could do was stare at her, whose hand was held by Malleus as if he were proposing. That wasn’t what caught Sebek’s attention, though.

She was standing and smiling like you. Her eyes sparkled like yours. Her beauty was mesmerizing, but she wasn’t you in the slightest.

Was disbelief even the right word?

Just days ago, he learned about Maleficia forcing Malleus into a different marriage, leaving you to fend for yourself despite being his fiance since childhood. Now, there he was, already starting to forget about you.

“Sebek,” Malleus spoke, curious as to why his retainer suddenly arrived. “Is something the matter?”

Sebek jumped at hearing his name be called, snapping him out of his trance. He looked at his master and instead put on a focused look, bowing his head. “No, Prince Malleus. I simply wanted to speak to you, but I shall wait.”

“No need. Whatever you have to say to me,” Malleus paused, looking at the family before him with a smile, “you can say it in front of them as well. They’ll be part of this lineage soon.”

Sebek’s eyes widened. He accepted the change? “I cannot. I apologize. Excuse me,” he said, leaving before hearing anything else.

It took months before Sebek could speak to Malleus, but the engagement was known, and the wedding was less than 24 hours away from now.

Sebek stood outside in the courtyard, just behind Malleus, as he watched his master lean back against a stone pillar. Malleus would look up at the stars in the night. The pillar was the last place he spent time with you, and the last time he would ever see you.

Sebek took a breath and stayed at ease, noticing how Malleus looked content and calm. How could he even look like that? Sebek would take his expressions as one of a man in love. Assuming that his master was in love with his new fiance, that is.

“Master Malleus,” Sebek blurted out, getting restless from the silence.

“How are they?” Malleus asked, still staring up at the night sky. Malleus stayed calm, but that contentedness didn’t last long. He grew slightly somber, still guilty from the events of months prior to the present day.

The half-fae was surprised, but he didn’t show it much. Instead, Sebek looked at the ground, fully letting go of his demeanor as royal guard, and spoke to Malleus as his friend.

“Not good. I can’t even fathom the events that have transpired. I learned what it means to be someone’s support due to the circumstances.”

“I see…” Malleus whispers, then he looks at Sebek. “It’s hurting you to see them this way, right? Believe me, I did not choose this.”

“I know. I am fully aware. I was told vague details, but it wasn’t hard to put the pieces together. Did you fight for them?” Sebek asked, looking at Malleus after.

“I did. They decided to accept the change, even after I pleaded.” 

“That didn’t mean you should’ve given up.”

Malleus began to chuckle, and then it turned into a laugh. Sebek was surprised once again, confused about why the hell he was laughing.

“Give up?” Malleus started, still laughing but only speaking again after being able to calm down. “I never wanted that. You don’t know what I wanted.”

Sebek grew irritated but he kept his composure, needing a damn answer. “Then, what did you want?”

Malleus leaned against the stone pillar and took a deep breath, not wanting to erupt into an outburst. "I wanted everything. They were my everything for so long. I never asked for things in life, but they were the only person I had always wanted to stay with."

"You can still say something. The wedding is tomorrow. Why won't you say something!? Are you so fond of your future wife that you want to push them away as if they didn't exist—!"

"What do you know!? I am haunted by my future wife. She acts just like them!” Malleus yelled, sounding frustrated.

“She has the same mannerisms, and moves just as elegantly as they did... But my bride is not them. I can't have them. To protect you all, I have to let go of them."

"Screw protecting us!” Sebek yelled back, getting closer to Malleus, his mind going into overdrive. “We are here to protect you, not the other way around!"

"No! I will not put this kingdom through war.” Malleus was stern and cold, different than he had ever been before. “Why are you trying to push them to me? You're only hurting your own heart, Sebek."

Sebek was shocked. This Malleus was not the one the boy had idolized for years. This love was turning the people he cared for most into strangers. "What do you mean?"

"Look at me and tell me you are not in love with my past lover. That is why you wish to fix this. If they are not happy, you are not happy either. I know that exact feeling,” Malleus stated, oddly confident about his words.

He did know that exact feeling. Sebek could see it, too. The eyes showed a lot of emotion and, as Sebek kept eye contact with his master, he could see the sorrow and regret behind the darkness of those once bright green eyes.

Sebek had to choose his words carefully. He could see how one more push could send Malleus’ over the edge. "Even if that is the case, they love you, Malleus. Not me, but you. My love for them will never compare to the love they have harbored for years with you. Do you not feel the same?"

Malleus stayed quiet. He needed to think. He had to reject everything. "I cannot love someone that is no longer mine. That is the truth,” he said, then they both heard footsteps against the concrete path.

They turned around and saw you there. Malleus was surprised at the sight of your figure coming closer. “You—”

“I wish to no longer see any conflict in regards to this situation,” you said softly, then you looked at Sebek.

“Thank you for trying to fight for me. I do not think it is necessary to do so now. It is pointless. Your words and breath are wasted in a situation that cannot be changed.” 

“But—”

“Prince Malleus,” you whisper, cutting Sebek off to look at the draconic fae beside you. “Do remember that your bride is moving into the castle a few days after the wedding.”

Malleus went silent at the mention of his fiance. His heart was hurting in a bothersome way. Why couldn’t he love you? He hated this, but he had a kingdom to take care of.

“As for myself,” you started, still staring at Malleus, “I am fine. No need to worry about me. We have done everything together since we were small children. I have loved you with every fiber of my being without fail. If you love me the same, you will marry your bride tomorrow and—”

Sebek’s eyes widened in the middle of the silence. Do his eyes deceive him?

Malleus was kissing the person Sebek loved so much. Malleus is getting married tomorrow, but he was kissing you in the same spot that changed everything that day. Your own eyes were shocked but soon closed to enjoy the sensation, your body as still as a statue.

Malleus held your waist close to him to keep you there. His lips were firmly pressed against yours, and he wouldn’t let go for a while. Sebek couldn’t look away from the scene in front of him. He had been able to endure everything. 

Not being loved by you. Not being able to make you smile or laugh. The pain was creeping up on him, witnessing the love you and Malleus had for one another despite the situation left him shattered. He felt bad for you. He could see that this was the only time this would happen. So, out of respect, he looked away.

Not only out of respect but to spare himself the pain of watching any longer.

Once Malleus pulled away, you opened your eyes and blurted out the next words that came to your mind, “I will not go to your wedding. I will spare myself that pain. I won’t lose you if I don’t witness you leave. As long as I believe you chose to leave and haven’t left my grasp, then I will be fine.”

Malleus let out a chuckle and let you go. “Good. Then, as long as you don’t see me giving myself away, I’m still truly yours.” 

You nodded in agreement and bowed your head, then looked at Sebek. “Then, this is goodbye. No—that’s too bitter,” you said playfully, looking at Malleus again and taking his hand one last time.

“It is simply ‘see you later’,” Sebek responded, looking at the two of you with a small smile. “Good luck.”

You nodded again and let go of Malleus’ hand before walking away. Your smile dropped once they could no longer see your face.

After a couple of years, Malleus’ coronation was successful, and Sebek was looking around for his master around the ballroom floor. After a few minutes of searching, he only found Malleus on the balcony, but he was with you. You came to the coronation. 

Sebek watched as you and Malleus stared into each other’s eyes, the obvious longing for one another still present. He noticed how you looked so different. Your eyes that sparkled were dull before, but they sparkled like stars once you set your eyes on the new king.

You were angelic and carefree to Sebek. He liked all sides of you, but this one only hurt him.

“You were a wonderful experience.” 

Sebek heard Malleus speak, but then he quickly had to hide when someone called for Malleus. He watched as they dragged their king away and left you alone.

“You were… everything.”

You said that, thinking you were alone. Sebek only realized that the time you spent away from Malleus did nothing. He could tell that Malleus was the same way. He slowly stepped out and looked at you, concern prominent on his face.

“Sebek…” You said quietly, your eyes dulling once again. 

Sebek had fallen in love with the person he couldn’t have. He knew it was taboo, especially since they were the person that his master loved so much, but it’s not like he’d ever reveal it. His body took over for a moment and when he came back to his senses, he had his arm wrapped around you in a hug. 

To Sebek, the person in front of him was like a candle. Bright, full of many chances and changes, but even those have a limit. Now, this lovely candle had burned out and would never have the ability to light up again.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

I Am Blackened Bones (Part 28)

She is sick, Katara informs her as if she can’t deduce as much for herself. Too much time outside, prone and exposed to the cold. And so it is that she is buried under a rather weighty pile of furs and blankets, sitting in front of a fire with a steaming bowl of stew in her hands. She hopes that it isn’t more seaweed stew. She doesn’t think that she can stomach anymore of that. The texture is so slimy and gross on her tongue. And the taste is soggy.

Right now she isn’t particularly in the mood for any meal at all with her stomach being as unsettled as it is. And so she stares forlornly at the soup until Katara says, “you need to eat something, Azula, how are you going to fight off a cold if you don’t have any nutrients?”

“With my own immune system.” She grumbles. But she dips her spoon into the stew anyhow. She has herself just enough of the stuff to appease Katara and then sets the soup on the dresser an curls herself up under the blankets.

“I knew that we should have gotten you inside earlier.” Katara mutters as she pulls up a chair. She sets a bowl of water next to the half empty soup bowl. Azula wishes that she wouldn’t do that; one of these days she is going to try to heal her with soup broth by accident. She spreads the water over Azula’s forehead. 

“Have you ever gotten a cold before?”

Azula shakes her head. “I don’t think so.” She has been sick before, especially since leaving the palace. But never like this. She has dealt with viruses from insect bites and more rounds of food poisoning than she cares to admit. She certainly won’t miss having to taste test fruits and berries that she doesn’t recognize. This illness feels like none of the ones that she has had before. It is more uncomfortable than it is painful or terrifying. She is congested and her throat is terribly sore, likely from such persistent coughing. While her stomach is at least a little achy, she isn’t throwing up. Not like she had been after sampling one of the jatropha berries. Really it was her own fault for accidentally swallowing the seed too, and here she had been worried about cherries. The purple berries that she has no name for hadn’t been a fun experience either. Never in her life had she endured cramps so intense.

At least this time around she has a decent bed to lay in and furs to wrap around herself. And an air nomad who keeps bringing her warm teas. “Chamomile is good for sore throats.” He says. “But lemon is good too and I think that it tastes better.” 

Azula isn’t particularly fussy over how her tea is taken so long as it helps clear that horrid congestion. She finds that she rather likes breathing through both nostrils, a luxury that this cold is taking from her. 

Usually the tea does help clear her sinuses so she takes it from the Avatar with eager hands. She closes her eyes and inhales, to the best of her ability anyways. The scent of chamomile is kind as she breathes the steam in. 

As the tea begins to soothe her throat, Katara attempts to soothe the ache in her head and her stomach. “You’re not worried?” Azula says in way of conversation. 

“Worried?” 

Azula nods. “About getting sick too.” 

“Not really.” Katara replies. “I don’t catch colds very often.”

Truth be told, Azula misses being able to retreat back into that dark place in moments like these. But she supposes that if she did that she would deprive herself of Katara’s doting. Her stomach gives another flutter; Katara is caring for her. The real her with all of her edges and complexities. Aang is tending to her. 

“Just so you all know, I can take care of myself. I…”

“You’re a very powerful firebender and you can hold your own. We get it. Just shut up and let us make things a bit easier for you.” Katara rolls her eyes. “You and Toph.” She shakes her head. “And Zuko. What is with all of you and wanting to do things on your own all the time?” 

Azula shrugs. “I’m used to it.” She furrows her brows. She had been used to it anyhow, it has been a while since she has had to fend for herself. Since she has endured sickness of some variety alone and with a lack of adequate remedies and rest.

It is nice. Very nice to have people care for her. She has taken care of herself on her own for so very long. 

“Used to doing things on your own or afraid of letting people help you?” Katara asks. 

“People have been doing that a lot lately.” Azula says in spite of her desire for doting. “Too much, maybe.” Every other day seems to be a day where she is getting herself hurt or into some situation. She is beginning to wonder if she really can take care of herself. But she had managed to merge herself back with the spirit on her own. 

“There’s no such thing as too much.” Aang insists. “You wanted friends right?” At her nod, he continues. “Well that’s what friends do. If you want friends, you’re going to have to get used to letting people help you when you’re hurt. Spirit Azula was really good at that.”

“Spirit Azula was really…shameless.” Spirit Azula liked to wander around melodramatically. And it had won her the affection that she had been aiming to get. “I have dignity.” As much of it as she can have with a bright red nose and bedraggled hair. She looks sloppy. She should be grateful that she once again has the luxury of worrying about looking sloppy. Before she had been too anguished to put too much thought into her appearance. But now that she is healing and not warring over who gets to inhabit her body, she would like to go back to putting work into what that body looks like and how it is dressed. 

“We know that, Azula. We know that you’ve got poise and elegance. And that you’re incredibly smart.” Katara assures her. “So you don’t have to act proper and refined all the time.” 

They like her better when she doesn’t, if their love of her spirit counterpart was anything to go by. She thinks that she likes herself better when she is able to let go. Even just a little. She likes herself the most in those moments where she can smile. When the mood is just comfortable enough for whimsy wins over. 

But she is still so, so scared of that. Of what people will think of her when she goes back home and doesn’t so closely embody that which her nation values; the rigidity, the stoicism, the ability to stand tall and well put together. Honor.

“You’re not in pain, are you?”

Azula shakes her head. 

“Then what’s that expression for.”

“I’m just thinking.” 

“About going home?” Katara asks. 

Azula nods.

“I have a feeling that most people know you’re not going to be the same person that you were when you were fourteen.” Katara squeezes her shoulder. “We all like the new you, I’m pretty sure everyone else will too.”

The new her…

“They’ll probably have to get used to you?” Sokka shrugs from his own little corner.

She’ll have to get used to the new her. 

To this person who may or may not be okay with doing stupid things like chasing penguins every now and again if nobody is looking. To this person who is so familiar but so different.

“Not helpful.” Toph mutters. 

“Not particularly helpful, but probably true.” Azula replies. She pulls the blankets tighter around herself and falls into another one of her coughing fits. Katara rests a hand on her back and waits for the fit to pass. 

“Alright, I think that it’s time for you to rest. The sooner you get better the sooner we can get you back home. Aang will leave your tea on the dresser. The rest of us will let you get some sleep and I’ll be back with more soup for you at dinnertime.”

“Oh how delightful…more soup.” Azula grumbles. At least when she gets home she can look forward to more exciting cuisine. Dishes with a punch. She quite misses spice and the smell of grilled meat. She quite misses home. One by one she watches the Avatar and his friends file out of the room until it is just she and Katara. 

Katara who brushes her bangs out of her face and kisses her forehead. 

“You’re going to get sick.” Azula cautions. 

“And you need to stop worrying so much.”

Yes. Maybe she does. Maybe she needs to just let things happen as they will. She has already tried holding control in a vice grip. She had only shattered it in the process. Maybe she just needs to let go and let herself grow into whoever she is supposed to become. 

She snuggles her cheek against her pillow. 

Katara gives her arm a little squeeze and bids her a nice rest. Azula tries to thank her but only manages several harsh coughs. She thinks that Katara understands anyways. Azula finds herself absentmindedly stroking her pillow. She has been both Azula and the spirit, but mostly Azula, for several days now and Katara still likes to kiss her forehead and squeeze her hands, arms, and shoulders. She has been whole for several days and people still want to talk with her.

[helloalycia]

watching TV [one] // kate bishop

summary: everything seems like it's going perfectly in your life – your girlfriend, your best friend, your job – until it's not. After your girlfriend breaks up with you so suddenly, you're left trying to understand what the problem was, but Kate is there to make it all better.

warning/s: mention of a breakup, mild violence and injury.

author’s note: i’ve literally had this in my drafts for so long and finally managed to finish it. It’s based off/inspired by the song ‘Watching TV’ by Sara Kays – feel free to listen to it whilst you read (I’ve popped the song below). Hope you enjoy!

two / three / masterlist / wattpad

"Are you really just going to sit here and keep buying coffee, Kate?" I ask my very determined best friend with amusement.

"Well, I got told off last time for staying all day and not buying more than one drink, so yeah," she replies like it's obvious. "And I don't want you to get fired because of it, so duh. I'd buy the whole menu if it meant we could hang out, Y/N."

I roll my eyes, feeling my smile widen at how cute she could be sometimes. I worked in a coffee shop and, since graduating, I'd been increasing my hours to pay rent which meant I was spending less time with Kate than usual. So, naturally, her solution was to hang out with me at work.

"You're cute, I'll give you that," I say, shooting her an appreciative look, before setting her third cup of coffee down before her. "Please don't have a caffeine overdose for my sake though."

She grabs my hand and puts it on her chest. "You feel that? It's a little too late."

I laugh when I feel the faint thrumming of her heart in her chest, faster than it should be. "Wow. I'm definitely cutting you off now."

"The things we do for love." She flashes me a grin and I shake my head with dismay.

Before I can think to say anything else, I glance behind her and my smile widens when I spot my girlfriend entering through the front door. She looks around, mirroring my smile when she spots me, too.

"Hannah, what are you doing here?" I ask with surprise.

She leans forward to kiss my cheek, making me grow warm at the contact. "I was running some errands and thought I'd stop by. Also just wanted to double check we were still on for tonight."

"Of course we are. I'm looking forward to it. Already got the snacks in and the films ready to go," I answer excitedly, meeting her brown eyes.

We'd planned for her to stay over at mine tonight and have a movie night just because, and to say I was looking forward to it was an understatement.

"Kate, hey, how are you?" Hannah asks politely, noticing her presence before us.

Kate's smile fades slightly and I can tell she's trying to remain civil. "Hey, Hannah... I'm good. And you?"

Hannah gives her a smile. "Doing great..."

It gets awkwardly quiet and I hate that it has to be like this. Hannah and I have been dating for about a year now, but her and Kate have never really gotten along. Or rather, there's just an awkwardness between them that never disappeared with time like I wanted. They both meant a lot to me and so made the effort with one another for my sake, but it's clear they wouldn't choose to converse if they could. I've tried talking to Kate about it, but she claims everything is fine. Same with Hannah. So, I just got used to it.

"Right, well I should get back to work," I break the silence with a small smile, looking between them. "Hannah, c'mon, I'll take your order. And Kate." I give her a warning look. "Last coffee. I mean it."

Her sincerity returns as she challenges my stare. "We'll see."

I scoff gently, leaving her to it as I return to my position at the till. Kate never listens, what can I say? But I won't lie – I love having her around.

As planned, Hannah stays over that same evening, watching films with me and eating way too much junk food to be considered healthy. But it's fun and I have never felt more relaxed, not unless I'm by myself or with Kate.

She stays overnight, sharing bed with me and cuddling to no ends, before I make us both a hearty breakfast and we reside on the couch to watch some midday TV together. Maybe the normalcy of it all is what throws me off – bad things shouldn't happen when everything feels normal. That's the whole point of something being normal, it's not bad. And yet...

"Y/N, I need to tell you something."

I hum in response, not really paying attention as I watch the telly. "Go for it."

Hannah hesitates. "I'm serious."

I furrow my brows slightly, glancing over at her at the change of her voice. "What is it?" When I notice the guilt in her expression, I straighten up and mute the TV, giving her all of my attention. Clearly something is bothering her. "Hey, Hannah, what is it? What's wrong?"

When I grab her hand, hoping to provide some comfort for whatever is bothering her, she pulls hers away.

"I'm breaking up with you."

I blink, taken aback by her bluntness. "You're– you– what?"

It doesn't seem plausible, what she said. Is this a stupid joke? Because it's not funny.

She chews on the inside of her cheek, eyes avoiding mine, and the longer she's quiet, the more my fear builds up that she's being serious.

"I didn't know how else to say it," she says quietly. "But I'm breaking up with you."

It's as if her words aren't quite sinking in because they just don't make sense. Breaking up? We're literally watching TV – how can she be breaking up with me?

"I don't understand," I say slowly, before attempting to reach over for her hand. A strike of hurt passes through me when she yanks her hand away further. "I need you to explain. To talk to me. I'm– what?"

She shakes her head slowly, standing up. I follow her with my eyes, trying to hide the way my breathing is becoming quicker, panicked, worried.

"I can't do this anymore," she says awkwardly, running a hand through her hair. "That's all."

Standing up, I try to step closer to her, unable to acknowledge the truth of the matter which is that she doesn't want to be near me. But how? Why? We were cuddling last night and now she suddenly can't stand me? What?

"Hannah, please give me more than that," I say with a teary smile, confused. "How can you suddenly want to break up? What's going on?"

She clenches her jaw, finally risking a glance my way, and it's like I'm staring at a completely different person. Her eyes are void of love or adoration or anything I feel for her. Has it been like that for a while? Have I never noticed?

"I'm sorry, Y/N," she says, and she sounds anything but, making my heart ache. "I should go."

There are no words to describe the utter disbelief I feel at watching grab her shoes, pulling them onto her feet. She's leaving? That's it? What?

"Wait a minute, Hannah," I say quickly, snapping back into action and following after her. "You're breaking up with me? Just like that? How can you–? I don't understand–"

"I don't love you anymore!" she snaps, making me jump. She swallows hard, exhaling and looking my way with guilty eyes. "I've been trying to tell you for a while now. It just never felt like the right time."

My throat closes up as she stares at me with pity. Shameful warmth creeps onto my cheeks. She doesn't love me anymore?

"That's all," she finishes softly, like it's not a big deal, like my heart isn't shattering at every word she speaks.

"You don't... why would... you..." I swallow thickly, trying to stop my voice from shaking so much. It doesn't help that she's staring at me with pitiful eyes. "What did I do?"

She sighs, rubbing her forehead with her forefinger and thumb. "Nothing. I just... I don't love you anymore."

My vision blurs with tears as I look to the floor, trying to figure out what that means. How can she not love me anymore? We've been fine. Nothing has gotten between us, we literally just hung out all evening. I'm still in love with her – she's my girlfriend. How can she decide she wants to leave all of a sudden?

"I'm sorry," she says once more, but it's mere background noise to my jumbled thoughts. Her hand ghosts my wrist, an apologetic squeeze, before I hear her leaving my apartment.

So, that's it? She leaves? And I'm alone? No explanation, no reason, just that she isn't in love with me anymore?

What?

Before the initial hurt can take over, I'm still very much confused. I try to call her, needing more of an explanation then a mere 'I don't love you anymore'. We've been together for a year – how can she just want to throw that all away? Doesn't she owe me more than a blunt breakup?

When she ignores my calls and texts, merely sending a 'l have nothing more to say, Y/N' text with finality, I realise she's dead serious. This isn't an elaborate prank, nor did she care enough to give me more than what she did. It's over. And I'm just supposed to accept that.

I've had breakups before. One where I've been the dumper, and another where I've been the dumped. Neither have hurt as much as this. I expected those, there were signs there. Lack of communication, the feeling like we were drifting apart, the bickering... it was obvious when my previous relationships were coming to an end. But this one came out of nowhere. I had no chance to prepare, to tell myself to stop loving her back.

I shouldn't spend my time wondering why, but it's all that's on my mind. If I'm not crying in my room, missing someone who doesn't want me anymore, then I'm wondering: why? What was the reason? She doesn't love me anymore, but there has to be a reason why.

Something about me isn't good enough for her. Something about me is so undesirable that she stopped loving me. What? Was it that time I showed up late to dinner and left her waiting fifteen minutes? Was it that time I disagreed with the way she spoke to her mum and we argued briefly about it afterwards?

It's so easy to reflect on every disagreement, every minor argument, every time I could have pissed her off... one of those times must have been it for her. The reason she called it quits.

What is it?

As if getting broken up with isn't embarrassing enough, it had to be by the girl my best friend never approved of. Such a cliché, right? That should have been an instant red flag, the girlfriend not being approved by the best friend. And yet I still went for it.

The last thing I want is for Kate to find out, for her to think that she was right. She'd never say it, but just her thinking it would be enough to make me feel even shittier. She'll have to find out eventually, but for now, it's better to keep to myself. Besides, I'm definitely not in the mood to face anybody at the moment, so I try to stick to myself.

Whenever she asks to hang out, I give her some lame excuse why I can't. Half the time it's because I'm actually working, but she'd never know the difference. If I'm not doing that, I spend my time applying for better jobs that actually utilise my degree whilst questioning every aspect of my relationship. How hadn't I seen it coming? Hannah had just woken up one day, looked at me and decided she couldn't love me anymore.

Yeah, it's safe to say I've never felt worse.

Of course, soaking in self-pity doesn't go down so easily when your best friend is as persistent as she is.

I don't know why I expect anything less from Kate, who is the definition of a hyperactive puppy, but I'm still surprised when she visits me at work one afternoon.

"Kate? What are you–? What are you doing here?"

She quirks a brow as she shoots me an amused smile. "Don't act too surprised."

I clear my throat, straightening up. "Sorry, I– sorry, just, what's up? How did you know I was working?"

"We'll, you've only been saying you're busy with work every time I want to hang out with you, so I thought I'd stop by," she says dramatically and with an easygoing smile. "That okay?"

I nod, looking down at the till. "Yeah, of course. Sorry."

She pauses, so I look up to see her humour is gone, replaced with concern. "Hey, are you okay? You seem preoccupied."

I force a smile, not wanting to get into this now and definitely not ready to tell her about the breakup when it's still so fresh. "Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry. Just tired from all the shifts, sorry."

She dips her head to find my eyes, her blue ones flickering between mine worriedly. With a low voice, she says, "What's with all the extra shifts? Do you need money? Because you know I'll always help you, Y/N."

I shake my head, widening my smile and hoping it looks genuine. "Kate, I'm fine, don't worry. Now, come on. What can I get you?"

She chews on her lip, no doubt about to retort, but thankfully she decides not to and instead orders her drink. After moving to go get it ready, I sigh inwardly, knowing I need to make more effort with her. She'll definitely suspect something if I keep avoiding her.

It's hard to focus on applying for jobs when you're definitely not in the mood to, but I still force myself to at least dedicate a few hours a day to searching and starting some applications. After all, I don't want to be working at a coffee shop forever.

I'm at home doing just that when Kate messages me, asking if I'm at home. After telling her I am, she invites herself over and I can't exactly stop her, even though I'd rather just be alone, so I tell her okay and throw on a more presentable outfit (AKA putting on pants).

When there's a knock at the door, I roll off my bed and answer it, unable to stop the small smile appearing on my face at the sight of Kate. Even though I haven't been myself lately, she always manages to make everything a little better without even realising.

"Hey," I say, stepping to the side to let her in. "How you doing?"

I notice she's wearing her Avengers sweatshirt and joggers which is just a black outfit with the Avengers logo printed on the corner.

"You been at the Compound?" I ask, closing the door after she steps in.

"Hey, yeah," she starts, sounding a little distracted.

"Oh, cool." I lead her to the couch as I ask, "So, how was training or whatever it is that Avengers do?"

It's supposed to be lighthearted but she doesn't fall into it like she usually does, leaving me curious.

"What?" I ask when she begins to frown at me.

She hesitates, eyes flickering to the spot behind me briefly, before saying, "I bumped into Hannah on the way back to my place before."

And as if somebody flicks a switch, any comfort I feel is immediately gone at the mention of my ex's name. Judging by Kate's face, she knows. And I don't know what's worse – the look she's giving me or the possible thoughts running through her head about me.

"Y/N...," she says gently, stepping forward. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I shrug indifferently, avoiding her sympathetic stare. "It didn't come up."

Kate raises her brows with slight disbelief. "Y/N."

I put my hands behind my back nonchalantly, trying to hide my fidgeting. "What did she say?" I ask.

She bites her lip, eyes studying me in a concerned way but one that only leaves me embarrassed.

"I was saying hello to her to be polite," she answers reluctantly. "And then I asked about you, if you were okay because you've been distracted lately and I thought she might know more than I do. But then she got all awkward and said she wouldn't know. So, obviously, I said what? And she–" She frowns. "She said she broke up with you like three weeks ago."

I close my eyes, wincing with embarrassment. She said that? If there was any way I wanted Kate to find out, this was the last.

"Y/N, what the hell?" Kate says, making me open my eyes to see her confusion. "What happened?"

I push my hair from my eyes and try to remain calm, but the feelings are bubbling away on the surface again and I begin to feel uncomfortable. "It's not a big deal. It was just a breakup. I should have known it wouldn't work out."

Should I have?

"What was the reason?" she asks carefully, and I hate that I can't answer that because I don't know. That's what hurts the most.

How do I explain to Kate that something about me wasn't enough for Hannah to love so she left me instead?

"Please can we just forget about it?" I plead quietly, risking a glance in Kate's direction. "I know this is the part where you say 'I told you so', but I'm–"

"Hey, no, stop it," she cuts me off, resting her hand on my shoulder and dipping her head to meet my gaze. "That's not even a thought of mine right now. I'm just worried about you... how are you?"

I flash her a forced smile, nodding. "I'm fine, Kate, see?"

It's a terrible attempt to convince her, but it's easier than telling her exactly how I'm feeling. I hope she doesn't push it, but she does one better and pulls me in for a hug. I didn't realise how much I needed it until she's wrapped her arms around me, squeezing me tight and providing a warmth I so dearly missed. I relax at the feeling, tucking my head into her shoulder and revelling in her care.

"Seriously, what happened?" she asks softly.

I don't let go of her, not yet. But she deserves an answer. And maybe I'm sick of bottling it all up.

"I don't know," I admit quietly, voice breaking embarrassingly enough.

She's patient, letting me hold her for a moment longer as I gather the courage to face her. It's not about her – Kate and I are close enough for me to tell her my deepest, darkest secrets. It's more about how embarrassing it is to be in this situation in the first place.

"She just broke up with me," I finally speak once I pull away from Kate's embrace. Her blue eyes watch me, hanging onto my every word, and it feels good to say it aloud even though my heart still breaks reliving it. "There wasn't any warning. And when I asked her why, she said– she said she didn't love me anymore. Just like that."

Okay, so saying it aloud doesn't feel good. I take it back.

"Sorry," I say when I realise tears are rolling down my face and my nose is all stuffy. Backing up, I look away and wipe my face with my sleeves. "I don't mean to be all gross. It's embarrassing, I know–"

"No it's not," she says quickly, shaking her head and watching me with a softened stare. "Is that why you didn't tell me? Because you were embarrassed?"

I exhale deeply, not knowing what to say because, funnily enough, I'm still embarrassed.

"Y/N," she urges, grabbing my hand, but I pull back gently, ashamed of the pity.

"Yes, that's why I didn't tell you," I tell her with a frown, meeting her gaze through blurred vision. "How isn't it completely and utterly humiliating, Kate? She broke up with me because she suddenly woke up one day, looked at me and thought 'nope, don't love her!' Something about me is unloveable, clearly. How isn't that embarrassing?"

Kate steps forward, grabbing my hand and squeezing it before I can let go. "Are you insane, Y/N? That's not true at all, not one bit!"

I scoff quietly, looking away from her. She only tugs me closer by my hand, forcing me to look at her.

"Who the hell in their right mind would fall out of love with you?!" she exclaims, throwing a hand up in the air. "There's clearly something wrong with her! You're amazing!"

I roll my eyes, finding it difficult to believe her. Besides, she's biased. As a best friend, she's not exactly going to put me down, is she?

"This isn't an 'I told you so' moment," she says adamantly, before pulling me into another hug, holding me so tight that I'm surprised she cares this much at all. "I'm here for you. I care about you and I wish you'd told me so you didn't have to go through it alone... please, don't push me away."

It's impossible not to love her right now, not when she's reminding me exactly how lucky I am to have her in my life.

"Thanks," I mutter into her shoulder. "I just... I don't want to talk about it."

I feel her nod in response before she pulls away and holds me at arm's length. I can't read her expression, surprisingly enough, but then she offers me a comforting smile and I almost regret not telling her in the first place.

That's Kate Bishop for you.

Since Kate discovered the truth, it's easier to just be me... the distant, moody, sulking version that is. I don't expect to feel better straight away, but it sucks being sad and I hate that I can't do much about it. I don't want it to consume me though, so I try not to distance myself from the people in my life, people like Kate. I try to keep my promise of letting her in and not pushing her away, but it's too easy to sulk.

"Did you see that, Y/N?! Clint taught me that one!"

I look up when I realise Kate is talking to me, jumping up and down with excitement, bow and arrow in hand. She invited me to hang out with her at the Avengers Compound whilst she gets some archery training in. She knows how much I love messing around with her whenever she invites me, but today I'm just not feeling it and I may or may not have been zoning out a little.

"I... sorry, Kate, I must have missed it," I admit with an apologetic smile. "Bet it was great though."

Her smile fades as she tilts her head, studying me. I know what she's thinking and look away, deciding that maybe I should leave if I'm just bringing the mood down. But then she skips over to me lightheartedly, taking a seat beside me.

"Hey," she says softly, tapping my knee with her forefinger.

I look over at her and she's already smiling my way, eyes looking up at me as she's leaned down, trying to catch my attention. Admittedly, my lips curl upwards.

"I want to take you to the fair that's happening in Central Park," she continues, straightening up in her seat, never looking away from me.

I exhale sharply, trying not to laugh. "I don't think I'd be very good company."

She lifts a brow hopefully. "Please?"

As much as I don't want to attend a fair, Kate's cute pout is very convincing, and I find myself sighing quietly, giving in with a nod. Her smile widens shamelessly before she pulls me in for a hug.

"Gross, Kate, c'mon," I whine petulantly, attempting to shove her away because she's all sweaty from training.

She only laughs and hugs me even tighter, winning against my useless attempts to fight her. I roll my eyes, pouting, but I'd be lying if said I didn't love it.

A few nights later is when the fair takes place and I realise what I've agreed to. The only reason I bother getting ready and not completely bailing is Kate's texts all day telling me how excited she is. For her sake, I try my best to push away my grumpiness as of late so we can actually have a good time.

I'm waiting for her outside my apartment building so we can go together when I spot her approaching.

"Somebody took their time," I joke when I see her.

"My bad," she chuckles nervously, stopping before me, and my eyes widen when I spot the cuts sprinkled over her face, covered by little bandages.

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Raising my hand instinctively, I have to stop myself from touching her cuts, fingers hovering over them.

"For God's sake, Kate, can't you stay out of trouble ever?" I say with annoyance, though the worry I'm trying to disguise is still very much present.

"Nope...?" she says when I lower my hand, grinning sheepishly.

I settle with an eye roll, scoffing quietly. She's always been careless like this, gaining bruise after cut, even before she joined the Avengers. It always worried me, now more so than ever, but she's also unsurprisingly good at staying alive so I can't really say anything. Plus, I'm not too sure she'd listen to me if I tried to stop her from being stupid anyway.

"Come on, let's go!" she changes the subject, tugging at my hand. "I've already got my heart set on a corn dog."

"Yeah, yeah..."

When we reach Central Park, the fair is in full swing, bustling with people, vendors, rides and music playing loudly. It's the most perfect sight, instantly brightening my mood, to my surprise. Kate immediately drags me to the first thing she sees – a corn dog stand – before taking charge the whole evening. We play countless fairground games, hop on a few definitely unsafe rides, hit each other in the bumper cars and eat way too much junk food. I don't think I've enjoyed myself this much since the breakup.

By the time I'm pretty sure we've done everything the fair has to offer, twice over, we find ourselves sat on a bench to get off our feet. Kate is eating from a bag of popcorn whilst I take another look at our winnings from the night – a stuffed toy, some key rings, snacks... pointless stuff, but I can't love it any more than I do.

"You look happy," Kate says, and it takes me a moment to tear my attention away from one of the keyrings I'm studying. She's smiling at me, blue eyes twinkling with the neon lights.

"I am," I say, shrugging.

She purses her lips, looking down. "I missed seeing it."

I look away, unsure what to say but imagining what it must be like for her lately. I haven't exactly been the greatest company, but she's still stuck by me.

"It's not true, y'know," she adds carefully.

"What?"

A pause, and then: "You're not unloveable. I wouldn't be here if you were."

At the mention of my words to her once she'd discovered the truth – my fear, deep down – I close my eyes and sigh quietly. A retort is at the tip of my tongue because no matter how convinced she sounds, I know it's not entirely true. Why else would Hannah simply fall out of love with me? Get bored of me so easily?

But before I can say anything, Kate's hand slips into mine, making me open my eyes with surprise. She takes my other hand, too, forcing me to face her slightly as she watches me with a seriousness she rarely showed.

"It hurts now, but it will get better," she says with complete and utter sincerity, her eyes boring through mine. "What Hannah did was horrible. The way she went about it..." She pauses, looking up with a suppressed scowl. "God, if I could see her again just to give her a taste of her own medicine." Shaking the thought away, she looks to me once more. "But that's besides the point. Don't let it ruin you, Y/N. You're the best. And you deserve the world and every good thing in it, and you'll get it someday. For now... well," she cracks a smile, jokingly, "you'll just have to settle with me.

A small smile tugs at my lips, heart warming at her words.

"You're the last thing from unloveable," she adds, giving me a knowing look.

I'm not sure if I believe her words, but I believe that she believes it, and that's enough for me for now.

"Thank you, Kate," I finally speak, surprised at way my voice breaks. Her words have more of an effect on me than I thought. Embarrassed but smiling nonetheless, I avoid her eyes and pull her in for a hug. "I love you, you know that?"

She snickers, returning my hug. "I know, Y/N. I think you know I love you, too."

I sigh contently, tightening my hold when she tries to pull away. She chuckles quietly, staying put, and I'm grateful because I don't want to let go just yet. She's been here for me when I haven't been myself and I've never felt more gratitude for her than I have right now. What I have here with Kate, this friendship... it's definitely unconditional. It always has been.

[bitter-limelight]

Marius/Daniel, 500 words

)o(

Daniel was like his little phoenix. Over and over, night after night, he rose again from the ashes of the day and over and over, night after night, Marius felt like he was watching him burn.

It had been this way for some time now, years really, since he came to his keep after the Night Island had dissolved, and Armand had shown incapable of raising and caring for an ill fledgling. Some nights the fire raged more softly than others. Some nights it was an all consuming inferno. Death and rebirth over and over at sunset, but Marius, always, was ready.

This had only grown more fraught with anxiety as their relationship turned from the watchful eye of a guardian to the kisses of a lover. If Daniel woke in madness and mania, there would be no lovers embrace between them, and Marius sat fine with that. He loved him regardless, would always love him regardless, whether Daniel rose with a sound mind wanting blood between the sheets and walks in the snowy woods, hand in hand, embracing in the moonlight, or whether Marius was a stranger to him and Daniel had a mind only for trains or books or returning to sleep.

So Marius waited as the sun set, himself waking well before Daniel, and he sat at his side in their bed as he always did, waiting. He was afraid of what would happen if Daniel thought he was gone, really gone. He was afraid of Daniel running again. Beside him Daniel slept, death claiming him as it did all vampires. He looked peaceful in a way he rarely did awake. Even when Daniel was having nights where he was well, having conversations with Marius, able to dress and bathe himself well, he looked so deep in thought at all times. It made sense for a journalist; his mind was always busy and searching to know the world around him. Did it pain him all the more then, when he was sick and could barely understand his own name?

Slowly, slowly, and then all at once, Daniel woke, sleepy eyes becoming alive again, focusing on Marius. That alone was a good sign, that search and concentration, and when Daniel smiled to him, Marius felt his heart swell.

“Good morning, my young one,” he whispered tenderly, and Daniel rose, clumsy, sitting up in bed, hair a mess around him. Scrubbing his face a moment, he leaned forward and pressed himself to his partner's shoulder, holding him and wanting to be held in return.

“You're feeling yourself tonight?” Marius asked with caution, because there was always the chance Daniel was happy but in orbit. But Daniel nodded.

“These are my favorite nights,” he whispered. His breath was warm against Marius’ neck, the sign of a young fledgling against a being so ancient and so cold as Marius. “Finding myself again after I've been gone. I get to wake up and fall in love with you over and over again.”

[starshine-wagner]

Nothing

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x Reader

Summary: Keeping warm on a fall night under the stars, in more ways than one. 

Words: 2k

Warnings: none

A/N: This is a re-upload to move it from my old blog to my current blog.

I’d just washed the smell of smoke out of my hair. After a day of strolls in the woods and conversations by the creek, we’d built a small fire behind the rental cabin. After all, what was a fall day without a little fire? Stepping out of the shower, I pulled on my sweats and grabbed my high school cross country tee. It was getting ratty and thin, but it would be good enough for sleep.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I stepped out the back door in search of Josh. The still-hanging Christmas lights on the porch provided just enough light to see that he was out on the grass, crawling around like a lunatic.

“Josh, come in! I’m cold and I’m clean and I’m ready for bed.” His head whipped around, clearly not expecting to see me there.

“Close your eyes! Just one second, here…” I obeyed, a little wary of whatever he was up to. I could hear him scrambling around, the crunch of leaves around him, some little grumbles and mumbles… “Shit…,” some more hurried shuffles.

“Okay,” he spoke into my ear. I shivered a little bit, not expecting him to be so close. His hands immediately came up to my bare shoulders. When I opened my eyes, he was right in front of me. His eyes sparkled differently in the dim light. They were softer. When he moved aside and let me out, it took a minute for my eyes to adjust.

“Ta-daaaaa!” He sang, opening his arms wide with pride. The guest room mattress was covered with every mismatched blanket from the living room splayed onto the grass. The cushions from the porch chairs were balanced between the bed and the oak tree.

October was the perfect time for it. The fall chill had just settled in the Michigan air, but the blankets would be enough to keep the warmth of each other wrapped around. He’d just decided to spend a long weekend at home and figured that now was as good a time as any to show me where he grew up. So, here we were, in the woods outside of central Michigan, spending a weekend away from the world.

“What is all this about?” I questioned, smiling at the realization that he’d been clambering around out here for a while just to get this ready. Josh was no stranger to romantic gestures, but this was something different. There was nobody around to see. No cameras to capture the moment, no brothers around to crash the party…

“What? Can’t a guy want to live his granola dream with a beautiful woman?”

“I mean, he certainly could. But after she’s already gotten set for bed? It’s damn cold out here…”

“Ah m’lady, this is where you are wrong! Join me.” He motioned to the makeshift couch, grabbed my hands, and pulled me down on top of him. My wet hair dangled in his face as he pretended to spit it out and blow it away from him. I raised my eyebrows at him and he only smirked back at me.

“Scoot your ass up and let me get us properly settled, yeah?” I leaned back against the cushions by the tree and let him arrange the blankets until we were properly cocooned.

“Ah, fuck. Hold on. I’ll be right back.” He got up, leaving me momentarily alone in the yard. I hadn’t noticed the previous night, but the view of the stars out there was incredible. Away from the city lights, you could nearly see the Milky Way on a clear night. I silently pointed out Jupiter and Saturn shining above, and searched the sky for the Big Dipper which was soon to be out of sight. The sky was incredible to me. The idea that every person who’s ever lived has looked at the same moon and traced the same constellations is comforting. I was getting lost in my own wonder when Josh came scurrying back carrying a stack of books, his speaker, a flashlight, and two bottles of water.

“Okay. Now we’re ready!”

“Ready for what?”

“Ready for the interstellar show, baby!” He smiled like an idiot. “The meteor shower that’s supposed to be coming through tonight…? I know how much you love the planetarium and the stars so I figured we could enjoy it out here.”

I let out a small gasp of realization. He was right. I’d told him 3 weeks ago that we should make it a point to catch the shower, but I’d completely forgotten. He’d remembered. It was just a passing conversation, but he remembered.

He resettled in the blankets and pulled a sweatshirt out from under his butt. Handing it to me, I hesitated. It smelled smoky and I had just washed the scent off of me. I decided to throw it on anyway.

“Okay, so it isn’t supposed to start for another hour or so. I brought us some books and I also have my speaker so we could-“

“Josh…” I shut him up by pressing my lips to his. Once the surprise wore off, he reached his hand out from under the blanket to cup my cheek. His nose was cold and my hair was still drying, but I was so overwhelmed that I didn’t care. He was the most thoughtful person I’d ever met. He pulled back, just for a moment, to meet my eyes. Again, I caught the porch lights igniting a sparkle in his. He put his head back down and kissed the base of my neck, working his way up to my ear, over my eyes, and onto my nose. All gentle, all soft. He let our noses touch before looking back up to the universe above. I followed his gaze. The moon was barely there, but the hazy nighttime clouds were starting to roll in. I scooted further down onto the mattress and, once I nudged his necklace out of the way, I let my head rest on his chest. Pulling the covers up to my chin, I was content to stay in this spot forever. Josh let out a wistful sigh and moved his hand up to my hair. Grabbing strands, he started to twirl it around his fingers, the feeling lulling me nearly asleep.

I was brought back, though, when his chest started to rumble ever so slightly. Under his breath, I heard it.

“You fill up my senses like a night in a forest, like the mountains in springtime, like a walk in the rain…”

My heart sank. It sank so deeply in love that I feared I might never recover. He was whispering Annie’s Song. I didn’t want him to stop, so I stayed as still as possible. His hand moved from my hair to the spot just behind my ear. Little circles, he drew, as he let his mind wander to wherever it was in this moment.

“Like a storm in the desert, like a sleepy blue ocean, you fill up my senses…” he drifted off. I finished, ever so quietly, “Come fill me again.” He looked down and I could barely see him through his eyelashes. He flashed the softest smile I’ve ever seen as I sat up to be eye-to-eye with him again. But, my insecurities surfaced as I thought about what could’ve just happened. The next verse. “Come let me love you, let me give my life to you…”

Love. Josh and I hadn’t used that word in reference to each other before. Everything had been happening so quickly, so fittingly, that we didn’t ever really stop to question what it was we were doing. Did I love him? Yes. Yes, absolutely. I was in love. How could I not be? But was he in love… with me?

I’d never been anyone’s first pick. I was a good distraction, the funny girl that guys hung out with to get with my friends. I was pretty, but I certainly never felt like the most beautiful person in the room. When Josh and I began seeing each other, I figured that this is what that was. Another distraction. But he was so sweet, so funny, so complex and intriguing and insightful and strange and beautiful that I didn’t care. I was happy to be his temporary fix. I’d let him settle for me if it meant I could be near him for however long he’d let me.

These thoughts must have flashed across my face. Josh’s smile faltered just a bit, noticeable only because I’d studied his face so carefully these few months. He turned his body so that he was fully facing me and placed his thumb on my cheek. We stared at each other and he began tapping each freckle under my eyes.

“You know…” he spoke, hesitating just a second, “the stars. They’re nothing.”

Hm. Not what I was expecting. I stayed silent, though, figuring he would explain.

His lips caught mine again and I wasn’t about to complain. His hand left my cheek and wandered down my side, landing on my hand. As our mouths said what words couldn’t, he lifted my hand to his chest and held it there. He was warm. He was always warm. I tried to move my hand up to his neck. I wanted to grab his curls and bring him closer. I wanted to be closer. But he stopped me. He kept my hand right there on his chest when suddenly he pulled back once more.

“I’m in love with you. I-“ he searched the night sky for answers before returning to my eyes, “I love you.” And then, for once, he didn’t have any other words.

I was sure I’d misheard. He loved me? He loved me. My eyebrows furrowed as my mouth hung open, still wet with his kisses. “Josh, I-“

“No, don’t say anything. Not yet..” He shifted and gathered confidence as he closed his eyes and sang, just barely audible…

“Come let me love you. Let me give my life to you. Let me drown in your laughter, let me die in your arms. Let me lay down beside you. Let me always be with you. Come let me love you. Come love me again.”

When his eyes opened, I felt mine prickling with tears. He really meant it. The damn fool loved me. He wiped a stray tear off my face.

“I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. I love you. I, everything… I didn’t know how to say it myself. So I figured I could call on old Johnny to help me out here.” I laughed and was rewarded with a hopeful smirk.

“I love you, Josh. I was afraid that you…” This time, it was him cutting me off. Our lips collided and my hands were instantly in his hair, needing to pull him closer. He grabbed my back and laid me down on the mattress, crunching some leaves that had made their way onto our little island in the woods. Hovering above me, he peppered my face with kisses and grabbed both of my hands, locked in his grip above my head. If he was being soft before, this was a whole new game. He was urgent, no, insistent on solidifying this new declaration with his body. I started to sweat in his smoky sweatshirt, but he was one step ahead, already grabbing the hem and pulling it over my head. Just as he came back down…

“No- fuck!” A mosquito had flown straight into his left eye. I burst out laughing and practically rolled off the mattress.

“Shut up and get back over here,” he sighed, clearly embarrassed that such a tiny disturbance had ruined our confession of love for one another. He rubbed his eye and swatted around to clear the air of any more flying bastards.

“Actually, Mr. Kiszka, I believe we have a show to watch!” I gestured to the sky and decided we could save the heat for an indoor activity. The meteor shower was set to begin any minute. We fell back into the most comfortable spot on the mattress with our heads side by side, hands clasped into one. Just as we settled, an enormous shooting star flew by. I’d truly never seen any that big before.

“Did you see that one!? Holy shit!” I yelled. Any other day, Josh would’ve met my exclamation with equal, if not more, excitement. But tonight, he just turned to me.

“The stars… they’re nothing. That’s what I meant to say.

They’re nothing next to you.”

[amethystpath-writes]

Medieval setting villain-in-hiding knight x vigilante undercover-heir to the throne? 👀👀

Embers

NOT A PR0MPT

You speak my language, friend.

******

"I know what you are doing."

Villain looked up. In turn, the orange light reflecting off his black hair and armor shifted in oblong and strange shapes. "Warming myself by the fire?" His eyes found the light again, not paying any additional mind to the blond in front of him.

“Beyond that." The first man rolled his eyes. He seemed upset at receiving such a casually disinterested answer. Truthfully, it should have been obvious. Such an attitude was fitting on these grounds, during times like these.

War.

Revolution.

Starving.

Death.

"Your camouflage is almost convincing, though not efficient enough. Tell me, what is your name, raven-head?" The blond was over-the-top, in his own refined sort of way. His voice carried out like a song, every word a beat too long- as if he were performing, though not very good at it.

Without shifting, or even raising his chin, Villain lifted his hooded eyes. He regarded the blond enough to say his attention was captured, but not enough that he particularly cared- nor did he find the joke funny. Raven-head. He scoffed. "Tell me yours first."

The blond chuckled, taking a seat on a rotting log across from Villain- or, Raven-Head. "See, that is where you go wrong. You act victimized, untrusting."

At this, Villain furrowed a brow, an action which said, 'Keep it down.'

"It might not be obvious to everyone, but I can see the veil you are trying to hide behind. You would have told me your name, otherwise. You would have tried to befriend me, and become a pair that defied death- conquered it."

"What makes you an expert at spotting bunnies in bushes?" As far as Villain was concerned, the blond had as much of a problem blending in as himself. The theatrics were too much, the speech too proper, and the curiosity much too unsettling.

"Are you admitting this"- he gestured at the Villain's attire- "is a bluff? You cannot possibly be a knight."

In response, Villain shrugged. "You tell me. Who am I if not who I say?"

The blond suggested, “A friend?”

The fire crackled between the two knights. They observed each other silently, one suspicious, and the other knowing.

“Most would call me the enemy.” Villain found the blond's gaze before shrugging. "You can decide for yourself."

"If I knew your intentions well enough, I would."

Villain chuckled lowly. "If you would honestly consider me as an enemy, should you be this close?"

"A fire separates us."

"A fire that could be extinguished- or walked around, lunged across, kicked in your direction-"

"I get it," the blond snapped.

It was now that both soldiers looked to the short flames. Villain thought about how else he could weaponize the fire- although it was gradually becoming more embers than spindles of heat.

Giving another shrug, Villain began to stand and walk away. It wasn't long before the blond expectingly stopped him.

"Wait, wait, wait."

Villain waited, neck craning over his shoulder in the blond's direction. He hummed, encouraging the man to speak.

"You are right- I have no idea who you are, but I have reason to suspect you are not who you say. That is enough for me."

"What do you want, then?" Villain faced him fully again, knowing this would be yet another conversation- one he couldn't just walk away from.

"A partner, someone to confide in- I am not sure."

"Give me something to work with, Blondie." Villain wasn't exactly prepared to be someone to confide in- he barely confided in himself. When he did, he found himself questioning the reality of his current blending in with the ranks. ‘What am I doing here, honestly?’ he would ask himself.

"I am the - son," the man blurted across the fire.

Luckily, the fire- if you could even call it such at that point- had popped, interrupting him. Still, Villain knew what he had meant. “You are Vigilante? The- the runaway! The king’s eldest son!” He kept his voice low, secretive.

He nodded, but then quickly corrected, "Second eldest."

Villain stiffened. He'd known the blond was someone, but he didn't think he was a royal. "You have no care for who I am at all," Villain noted. "Why are you here?"

"My father started a war," the prince said uneasily. He avoided Villain's gaze for the most part, opting to watch the fire instead. It was dying out without anyone to kindle the flames. "We need a better king."

"And you think your brother would make a better one."

The prince tossed his hands around awkwardly. "Not necessarily," he almost whined, "but anyone would be better. We are going to war over sticks, you know? Trees. Land. Like it will do us any better. We have no need for wood and we can barely take care of the people we have. I can never imagine having more until we know how to feed the ones who feed the palace."

It was easy to tell Vigilante had been talking to himself towards the end.

"Personally," Villain felt as though he was taking a risk by saying this, that maybe it was going too far. Of course, it was a last second plan, and there were so many aspects which could go wrong, but there were also so many that could go right. "I think you would make a better king than your father and any of your brothers."

Looking at the Prince, Villain could tell he’d said the right thing. The man was beaming from cheek to cheek, and even asked, “You really believe so?”

“I do.” Villain never intended on meeting the king or his sons. The job was supposed to be much simpler. Blend in with the ranks, learn their strategies, devise a plan against them, then do it again to the next battalion. Eventually, he would work his way up to killing the king- but boy was this even better. Not only would he take the king’s life, but he would take the princes out one after the next, all under the blond man’s guise. “In fact, I am even willing to help you become king.”

“You would do that? Truly?”

Villain smiled with a dagger’s edge. “Absolutely.”

******

******

******

Master tag list: @faeruine

To be added to the list, comment on this post!

[bookwormscififan]

Lighter With Me Here

Read on AO3!

A/N: I had this idea to write something fluffy and non-sexual with Mare giving Mad a nice bath because he's had a bad day... and ended up kind of projecting myself into this scenario.

--

Mare wiggled his fingers under the stream of water, pulling away when the water was warm enough and plugging the tub. He pulled lavender bath soap from under the sink, adding it to the water before setting it aside, reaching for a sponge and a face towel.

Mad had returned home from his walk in a bad mood, skulking around the house with a frown on his face and eyes on the verge of tears. When cuddles by the fire and a new book didn’t lift his mood, Mare decided a warm and calming bath might help lift Mad’s spirits, carrying him to their room and starting the water running.

“Alright, love, up we get,” he whispered, gently lifting Mad to sit up, slowly removing his clothes before carrying him to the bathroom and setting him in the tub. He held Mad’s face in one hand, turning it so he could kiss Mad deeply before letting him go, putting the sponge into his hand and stepping back to undress.

“Why do you care so much?” Mad asked, not looking up from where he was methodically squeezing the sponge under the water, barely reacting as Mare climbed into the bath behind him, pulling him in close to rest his back against his chest. “Why do you work so hard to make me feel good?”

“Humans feel a lot of things,” Mare began quietly, slowly beginning to wipe down Mad with the face towel. “Despite the world promoting a positive mentality, there are a lot of people who feel down. It isn’t possible to completely heal from the down feelings, but there must be times when the feelings can be lifted enough to function.”

“But why me? What draws you to me to the point you’re willing to spend days with me when I don’t want anything to do with the world?” Mad insisted, blindly drawing shapes onto Mare’s thigh beneath the water as Mare carefully spread soap over him.

“Because you’re perfect for me,” Mare replied, giving Mad’s cheek a kiss before following it with a swipe of his thumb. “The riddle of my being is chaos, and you bring the right amount of order to keep things right. It breaks my heart to see you feeling so low that you’re barely speaking.”

Mad took a moment to consider Mare’s answer, leaning his head back against Mare’s shoulder and embracing his warmth. He closed his eyes with a sigh as Mare gently rinsed off the soap with the sponge, covering him with warm water that made him drowsy and less depressed.

“You’re trying not to answer with just a simple ‘I love you’, and I appreciate that,” he started, taking hold of one of Mare’s hands and lifting it to entwine their fingers together. “I love that you don’t try to completely lift my spirits, just lift them enough for me to talk again, and I’m grateful to be able to come home to you whenever something’s gone wrong.” He kissed the back of Mare’s hand before letting the drowsiness take over, resting against Mare’s body and sighing.

“Let’s get you dried off and clothed,” Mare chuckled, gently leaning Mad forward so he could get out of the tub, lifting Mad out after him and wrapping him in a fluffy towel. “People are wired differently, and I do worry sometimes that I might sound redundant if I keep justifying things with the simple ‘I love you’. I want to be able to remain that flutter in your heart whenever you think of me, your first thought in the morning and your last at night. Bad moods happen, and I just want to make those days the most comfortable for you.”

Mad listened to Mare’s words as he dried him off, picking at his fingernails as he blinked back tears. He sniffled when Mare dried off his hair, curling his toes in the bathroom mat to ground himself as he waited for Mare to dry himself, then curled into Mare’s chest as the musician carried him to the bed.

Mare dressed them in silence, waiting for Mad to initiate more conversation as he quietly slipped a fluffy sweater over his head. He held a glass of water to Mad’s lips, watching the scientist take a few gulps before setting the glass on the side table, helping Mad under the covers. Climbing in after him, Mare arranged the pillows so he could rest against the headboard with space for Mad to curl up against him if he wanted.

Mad immediately curled into Mare’s side, resting his head over his chest, laying his hand flat over his heart. Mare draped his arm over Mad’s shoulders, tracing patterns into his upper arm as he softly began to hum.

Breathe deep, I can feel you weep.

When the black clouds gather over your head,

I will be here to lull you to sleep.

I know things won’t magically disappear,

There is no cure for when life seems wrong.

I can offer my support, my love, wipe your tears,

Because maybe things will be lighter with me here.

His shirt was slowly getting soaked with Mad’s silent tears, but Mare didn’t care as he sang quietly, continuing to draw patterns into Mad’s arm while Mad took his free hand in his own, tangling their fingers together and holding tight. After some time, when the moon had risen high in the sky and the wet patch on Mare’s chest had gone ice cold, Mare closed his eyes to sleep, feeling Mad’s breathing become steady and deep, sleep finally granting him peace.

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

@iamvegorott @brokentimewatch @dungeon-dragons-dragons @rattyboyisemo