#HIM CALLING US PEACH??? I NEED TO MEET YOU OUTSIDE SO I CAN FIGHT YOU (affectionate)

[kedsandtubesocks]

I NEED TO INJECT THIS INTO MY VEINS

now we're partners in crime—

gojo x f!reader wc: 4k+ tags: modern au, no smut but it is a mentioned subject throughout, intoxication to the point of slight memory loss (referenced), gojo being gojo, f!reader (referred to as 'wife' and 'bride', etc.) takes place in you guessed it las vegas, so there's some american stuff in here inspired by the katy perry song 'waking up in vegas'

many things are immediately concerning when you wake up.

the first being that you're laid up in a bathtub and not entirely naked, wearing some ridiculously scandalous lingerie you would never buy for yourself while in your right mind — though you think that might be precisely the problem. that you weren't.

you have no recollection of getting into this...outfit, which is little more than too-tight ribbons and misplaced pasties and strips of crotchless, white material. it's so open and exposing that you are horrifyingly embarrassed, hands clumsily rushing to cover the bits of you that are all out even if you are in a hotel bathroom by yourself.

the thought of anyone seeing you in this nonsense nearly has you sinking further down into the tub and turning the faucet on high until the water runs up and over your head, but someone would come to find you eventually, and they would catch just as much of an eyeful as whoever tied you into this crap.

and someone certainly did, because there's no way you could have gotten into this alone, either stone-cold sober or sloshed out of your mind. which you're quite sure you were. had to have been.

there are faint and distorted memories tickling the sensitive skin of your throat, of cherry-stained lips and rushed, slurred whispers. "y'look so sexy," he says, and the little giggle pressed into your neck is innocent, childish compared to the wide hand gripping your ass cheek too hard.

the terribly concerning thing about this isn't that you don't know who that man is, but rather that you do. all too well. and now your head is pounding and your stomach is turning and your hangover is coming in full force at the realization that you may have, in fact, fucked your best friend.

but even that isn't the most concerning thing. no, waking up in a bathtub with few memories of your wild, first night in las vegas has nothing on the glittering, heavy diamond ring on your finger.

you don't know anything about carats but someone — that you hope and pray is not gojo satoru — has bought you a whole crop of them.

it seems as if an eternity passes before you can haul yourself up and over the edge of the tub, though it probably only takes about 10 minutes in total. on all fours, you feel like a little show cow, with fabric everywhere except for where it should be, and you're almost so overcome by your embarrassment that you turn back for the tub.

but there's a faint ringing coming from outside the door. an annoying, too-cheerful noise that you realize is what's woken you up in the first place, because it hasn't stopped for ages. a ring-tone that, again, has your stomach dropping from the familiarity.

maybe it's getou, you try to tell yourself, come to find gojo's phone because the clown ran off without it too late last night and is now panicking. maybe shoko and suguru and satoru are all sober as can be and you've just made a big fool of yourself, all by yourself, and everything is totally fine; you'd happily be labeled a sloppy drunk rather than...whatever it is your brain is trying to piece together right now.

you're not actually any more covered on the ground like this, but it gives you some semblance of comfort as you open the bathroom door and peer out down the hall — which is made of marble flooring and a crumpled-up white, mink rug, gold picture frames lining the pristine white walls. you can see clear across the room, and the floor-to-ceiling windows are all city skyline and a cloudless blue day.

and this is absolutely not the room the four of you booked.

not that it was some backwater, mysteriously-stained-carpet-esque motel room, but it was a bottom-floor rental, and definitely not on the strip, as this king-fucking-suite seems to be. definitely not littered with rose petals and pictures of greek goddesses (?) and a cardboard cut out of elvis presley.

the first piece of real clothing you come across while crawling along the floor is a black blazer that had clearly been tossed into a haphazard clump last night; you hate to imagine why. you yank it on as quickly as your lead-heavy limbs will let you and button it up as far as it will go. a good portion of your chest is exposed, still, but it goes to nearly your knees, because it's fitted for some stupid, tall idiot.

— and said stupid idiot is passed out in the middle of the hotel room, half of one leg kicked up on the couch. there's a sticky, splotchy puddle — of old champagne, you guess, if the empty bottle in his hand is anything to go by — right next to his stupid idiot head, and if he were to only turn his face a little, it'd get all in his hair. you wish it would.

satoru is also entirely shirtless, with the button of his slacks undone and a peek of his black, expensive briefs staring you in the face.

for a moment, you're surprised; all his dumb designer clothes make him seem too slinky, like a limp string-bean, and you didn't expect him to be as...thick as he is. still lean, moreso than even suguru, but there's a soft roundness to his shoulders, which have never looked so wide beneath his fancy shirts.

he has pecs. smooth abs that you want to poke, maybe bite. you're also trying not to care about the snow-white happy trail underneath his belly button.

the first thing you do is whack him in the head.

"gojo!" you hiss, hugging the blazer closer to your body as he whines and, unfortunately, turns further from the mess on the floor. "wake up!"

his glasses are nowhere to be seen, hopefully broken or lost for good, and he only manages to crack a single baby-blue open before covering his face with his hands and groaning out in pain. "did you hit me?" he asks, muffled and delayed, so you do it again to be more clear. "ah!" he cries, "why are you hitting me?"

"b-because! where are my clothes?"

you can see the brush of his light eyelashes against his fingers as his eyes open beneath his hands, and then he's sitting straight up, interested, smile growing at the sight of your bare legs.

gojo has the nerve the laugh, infuriatingly similar to the one haunting your memories. "noooo clue."

"satoru," you grit, and the use of his first name has his face falling into something more serious. "this isn't funny. what—" you hold up your hand and point to the ring on your finger, face burning up when his eyes go wide. "—happened last night?"

but — you know what happened, don't you? because, try as you might to ignore the silky white dress draped across the back of the couch, you're looking into gojo's eyes and you can see them staring back at you underneath the cheap light in some shitty little chapel.

you gasp out loud as your hands go to twist in the roots of your hair, the realization a physical assault on your sanity. "what the fuck have we done?"

a small crease forms between gojo's brows, courtesy of his own hangover headache, and his lips press together evenly as he blinks in the sunshine pouring through the window. he's startlingly less bothered by this than you are and you think it's driving you even more crazy; sitting as if has hasn't just dropped who-knows-how-much on a giant, ugly ring and a suit and this honeymoon-esque-fucking-suite.

the lack of frenzy from him is only driving your anxiety up tenfold.

the annoying little ring-tone splits the air again and that finally prompts him to leave the floor, stumbling around to the kitchen as he knuckles at his eyes. he brightens for a moment and holds up a hand-written note left for you both that says "congrats newlyweds!".

satoru answers the call without a care, voice light and amused. "mr. and mrs. gojo speaking!"

the only very little, teeny-tiny upside to all this is that shoko and getou look just as hungover as you.

ieiri is still laughing, however, into her eggs and then into her mimosa and then fully, into her hands, when you glare at her from across the table. suguru seems unphased for the most part, though you didn't miss how big his eyes got at first sight of the ring on your finger.

there had been no choice but to slip back into the dress you'd worn last night, as it seems the rest of your clothes were in the hotel room where you should've been; gojo at least lets you keep the blazer. most of the buttons on his shirt are gone and you'd both spent too long, too much brain power, trying to figure out how to get it to stay closed before meeting up with getou and shoko in one of the restaurants on the bottom floor of the hotel.

they confirm the worst.

the diagnosis? terminal. 'til death do you part.

"i can't believe you let me do this," you moan, dropping your head to the smooth, cool surface of the table; it doesn't alleviate your headache whatsoever. "why did you let me do this? how could you let me do this to myself?"

"oh, you both were very adamant about it," shoko snorts, downing the rest of her drink in one shot. you don't know how she does it; the very thought of alcohol makes you want to be sick. "wouldn't take no for an answer."

your face falls back into your hands, all doom and gloom. you want to refute such a claim, vehemently disagree that you would want to marry gojo satoru under any circumstances — but there apparently are circumstances that have led you right here. beside gojo, who is drenching a fat stack of pancakes in syrup.

he only grins. "i always knew you found me irresistible."

"look what you've let me do," you cry, digging your hands back in your hair as you send ieiri a pleading look, as if she could go back in time and stop you from ever getting into this mess. "you've let me ruin my life!"

getou sighs, head falling back against the booth you're sitting in. "it can't be that hard to undo. must happen all the time."

gojo chokes at that. "what? you would dare suggest the d-word on our first day as man and wife?"

you smack him again to shut him up, though he only frowns at you, cheeks full of food. "we are undoing this!" you hiss, glaring at your own reflection in the over-sized glasses shoko has let him borrow. "and you're paying for it!"

gojo chooses violence in that moment, by reaching out to catch the attention of the waitress walking by. "excuse me, do you mind getting my bride a cup of coffee? she gets a little grumpy in the morning without her caffeine, you know how it is."

you launch forward in the seat to strangle him, but he's quick to deflect by looping an arm around your shoulders, just before you get your hands on his throat. he yanks you close to his side, hard enough that you feel the phantom pain of his grip on your sore ass, from the night before, and then you catch sight of all the purple hickies just under his collar.

the unshakable reminder has you shrinking back into yourself, unintentionally nestling deeper against his side due to your blazing hot shame. it's mortifying suddenly, to realize it's public knowledge that you've married and screwed your best friend in the same night. maybe even the same hour. and he's seen you in that ridiculous lingerie.

the truth is that you don't know how to take this. you don't know how you feel about this. being married to him, having been bedded by him. you know he's not the reputation he tries so hard to uphold, as some playboy douche-bag; satoru is nothing but a goofball, a bit of a nerd about mathematics while also shouldering a substantial amount of emotional trauma.

you've known him since college, when you and shoko shared that crappy little apartment off-campus and spent too many nights playing beer pong with your only other two idiot friends — who are conveniently sitting in this booth with you.

he's slept in your bed more times than you can count, because he's too stubborn to sleep on the couch, and you were the link between he and getou when they stopped talking for a while. you don't know what the real deal is with megumi and tsumiki, but you've housed them, too; brought their lunch to school and washed their clothes when gojo forgot to pay the water bill, after he decided to stop living off his family's money.

you don't know how you feel being married to him, even if it's only for 24 hours. you don't know how you feel about crossing such an intimate boundary, or how you feel about not remembering any of it.

gojo, on the other hand, seems to feel great about all this, though the look getou gives him across the table doesn't go unnoticed; disappointment, almost. an are-you-serious kind of look.

"i'm never drinking again," you whine, frowning down at the diamond in your lap, sitting bright and sharp on your finger. it's too big for your taste, a bit gaudy, all for show; definitely satoru's style.

"good idea, peach," gojo nods, "let's agree to go sober."

"you didn't even drink that much—"

gojo interrupts suguru by raising a quick hand. "but we all know i'm a lightweight, so it doesn't take much to begin with."

shoko pokes through her phone and you notice the odd way she's angling it, almost like she's just snapped a picture of you and him snug together. you consider kicking her under the table, or throwing her phone in the obnoxious fountain blubbering over by the bathrooms.

she snickers. "i can't wait to tell utahime."

"you will not!" you squeak, suddenly wrenching yourself from gojo's grasp to scooch down to the other end of the booth, as if that could erase the evidence somehow. "we're getting divorced, like, right now!"

gojo — still seems unbothered, which only has your nerves flaring up again. "you know peach," —he pouts when you hiss at him to stop calling you that— "i'd move heaven and earth to make you happy, but unfortunately i can't find my credit card, so you'll have to put a hold on breaking up our family."

"you what?"

"yeah, what?" getou screws his face up, crosses his arms. "who do you think is paying for all your food?"

"suguru," he gasps, scandalized, "you would make the newlyweds pay for—"

"oh my god, get out!" you fuss, reeling your leg back to literally kick gojo's ass out of the seat. "get out, get out now! we're going back to that room and we're not leaving until we find your stupid card!"

"honey," gojo laughs, sweet and light, sending a chill down your spine as he is gladly steered by you. "don't be so forward in front of our friends."

"shut up!"

you re-tear apart the already torn apart hotel room.

there's not much to sort through, which is both good and bad for your pending annulment; helpful, because it means there isn't much in between you and gojo's credit card, but also unfortunate, because you rip the place to shreds and still can't find the stupid thing.

you're met with plenty of other things, though, that only serve to make your body hot and your brain fuzzy.

all the buttons of gojo's shirt, for one, which are scattered in various places across the floor, where they must have flown when one of you ripped it open. there's a ridiculous assortment of chocolates that, at one point, spelled out something —married!; gojo digs into them immediately with an excited little "oh!" as you crawl around on the floor.

whatever it was you woke up in gets shoved in the trash, and you don't even speak about it to satoru.

it eats away at you, though, the flitting images that cycle through your brain, the muddled memories you have of this ridiculous hotel room. the more you look, the more comes back to you, and you eventually can't stop replaying the way he'd thrown your dress up over your head, or the hand you stuck down his pants.

to no surprise at all, gojo isn't really helping. instead lounging on the couch, shoes kicked off, little foil wrappers in his lap. when he notices you staring at him, remembering, he smiles his coy little smile. "c'mon," he starts, "being married to me can't be that bad, can it?"

it's only been a few hours, but it feels like the day has drug on, far too long; you only shake your head, raise a hand and say, "don't."

"i can take care of you," he continues, turning to prop his chin up on the back of the couch as you pace back and forth. "i can—"

"i don't need to be 'taken care of'—"

"—you know what i mean." he has the audacity to roll his eyes at you, but the smile on his face is dimming. "i'll do the cooking and cleaning."

you huff out a laugh. "satoru, you've never cooked anything in your life."

he ignores the diss. "is it because i've got kids? you don't have to be the step-mom—"

"god, stop," you groan, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. they sting, suddenly, and you tell yourself it's only because of the migraine. "what are you—you can't be serious. why are you—i mean, what the hell?"

the hotel room goes entirely silent, and maybe it's because a phone isn't ringing in the background, but it feels like a completely different room. there's pink and red everything, bouquets to go with the petals littering the floor. the ring around your finger fits just right, but you force it to spin around and around, pinching at your skin because you can't keep your hands still.

satoru's face betrays nothing. you have no idea what he's thinking. why he's going so far, if this is all just another joke of his.

"we didn't, by the way," he tells you then, voice low and calm. "you went to throw up in the bathroom and never came back and i passed out on the floor."

you press your thumb into the center of your forehead, trying to tide back the frustration building in your waterline. "what? what do you mean?"

a small smile returns to his face, bringing about a rosiness with it. "our marriage was never consummated, i mean. we never got that far."

oh.

satoru is your best friend, one of them, and you decide, while looking at his tired eyes and soft smile, that maybe marrying him wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. getou gets on your nerves too much, with his grumpiness, and shoko is too flighty. utahime is maybe ideal, though you think nanami would be a good, safe choice.

and gojo, too. couldn't be too bad of a choice, with him.

you heave a sigh and come around to sit beside him on the couch, slumping back into his side — which was undeniably comfortable, down in the restaurant. the affection makes him hum, warm and happy into the crown of your head.

"every marriage has its ups and downs."

you dare to laugh, finally, at the situation. "i don't think i've been a very good wife."

"that's alright, peach," he yanks away, squirming as you try to pinch him. "i'm willing to try therapy to save this thing."

"you're stupid," you tell him childishly, though he only shrugs in response. "we have to figure this out, gojo. we have to — fix this."

"megumi will be out of the house in two years, if that's really the issue—"

you shake your head with another laugh as you get up to stretch your sore limbs, to rub at the tenderness still lingering in your buttcheek. "oh my god, it's not the kids, gojo!"

he laughs, too, though it sounds a little strained, like it's being forced from the back of his throat. "then what is it?"

"we're—" you shake your head again, at a loss from the seriousness dulling his eyes. "i mean, we've never even—we can't be married. we're—just friends, aren't we?"

there's a tension that hardens his face for a moment, solid enough that you get the feeling he's going to pull away somehow, from you and this conversation — but then it's falling away just as quickly, replaced by a look of exasperation. "we can be whatever you want."

another chill shudders down your spine at his honesty, his decision to be vulnerable, here, right now, with you. you've never been under the impression he had any...romantic feelings for you, and maybe that's been on purpose, out of fear of him and what loving him could mean. what losing him could mean.

"i think," you sigh, turning your attention back to the ring—your ring. "i think i'm going to give this back to you and you can hold onto it, if you want, and maybe give it to me in the future. after you cook me dinner and clean all the dishes."

he frowns, but it isn't too severe, playful once again. "so you're really gonna d-word me?"

"yes, satoru," you nod, unable to stop from smiling when he does, too. "i'm really going to d-word you. you're just gonna have to win me back, i guess."

"oh, challenge," he grins in full at that and rises to his feet, towering over you a bit. completely without ceremony, his hands come up to cup your face, thumbs brushing over the heat that swells in them. "it's good for us to shake things up every now and then, it'll keep our marriage fresh."

"yeah, great, i'm so glad you're so knowledgeable about this,"

"i'd be a perfect husband,"

—and he kisses you. so simply, so suddenly, a small peck to your lips as if it's nothing but natural.

"also," he kisses you again, a little firmer as your eyelashes flutter against his. "my credit card has been in the pocket this whole time."

"what?" you murmur, brain struggling to keep up with whatever he's saying between the press of his mouth to yours. the sharp breath he inhales through his nose is audible, felt against the skin of your cheek, and you almost throw the conversation out the window when he steps in closer to you.

but you yank away from him at the last second, as soon as you feel his lips curving into a smile.

"wait, what the hell?" you dig around in the pocket of the blazer only to find his little metal card, sitting there and waiting to be found. this time, he accepts the smack, because he knows he deserves it. "gojo!"

"what do they say? 'what happens in vegas, stays in vegas'?" he cups your face again, but it's only to squish your cheeks together to silence you, to smush your frown. "well, we don't leave for another two days, so i don't think you need to rush into tearing my heart into shreds."

you mean to tell him to shut up, but he doesn't let you, and you decide not to fight him on it this time.

—because you are working on your marriage, after all.

you're in the bathroom, washing your hands up after crawling around on the floor, when you feel another painful throb in your asscheek. only — it's less of a throb, really, and more of a stinging. almost like you have a scrape of some kind.

from out in the room, satoru laughs, cackles, wholly elated.

"hey peach, you're never gonna guess what's tattooed on my butt!"

[grand-theft-carbohydrates]

sorry for being super late to the zhuge liang time-loop party but image we're several iterations in and our boy kongming is sitting in his little mountain hut waiting for liu bei to show up like he always does but this time sun zhou yu turns up instead

oh ho this is a hilarious concept! this is the enemies to enemies timeline we all need. i think it would make more sense for lu su and zhou yu to turn up, because of the simple reason that sun quan is a duke at this point and can't leave the palace for such an extended period of time vs liu bei the one-horse warlord.

ok, the timeline needs to be super fucked up at this stage in order to bring these two togather, because in the alpha timeline even though kongming was fairly well known as a genius hermit, he hasn't done anything so extraordinary at this stage that it warrents a personal visit from the two most powerful people in the southland.

i think we can do this by making him kinda new to the whole timeloop thing, and he accidentally/on purpose reveals some future events in order to get liu bei to find him faster, and it ends up backfiring.

picture this: kongming is sitting in his thatched hut, tears in his eyes, heart all a-flutter, waiting for his beloved leige lord to turn up, and the servant is like "master, there's three important men at the door" (idk who the third guy should be but it's a nice round number. maybe huang gai?) kongming: !!!! "ok, I will play some music to set the mood. i was rude last time by falling asleep and i want to make a good impression."

not even 3 bars in and a VERY familiar voice calls out "you're flat."

kongming is so fucking outraged that for a second he forgets to be surprised because that was ONE HALF-STEP DOWN, ASSHOLE!!!! YOU trying getting reincarnated and deincarnated several times over and then meet your soulmate (he called liu bei that irl, look it up) and see how steady your hands are, asshole!!! god, this is just like wei wuxian from my danmeis...

then it dawns on him that none of the peach garden trio have musical literacy. he runs outside, takes one look at the three men in his courtyard and is like "well, this timeline is a wash. aight im gonna go out back and bash my head in. on second thought, i should do it here and freak zhou yu out. suicidal existential despair is no excuse not to troll zhou yu."

but the afformentioned takes this opportunity to stroll into kongming's bedroom, and starts tuning his qin (not a euphamism) without permission. kong ming says passive-agressively, "i see you're quite adept at tightening another man's strings" (not a euphamism), zhou yu replies "a neglected instrument is like a neglected soul" (not a euphamism), "are you offering to duet?" says kongming through gritted teeth to which zhou yu replies "oh don't worry, i can see you're out of practise so i'll be gentle and take it slow," (not a--) and it's at this point lu su grabs huang gai by the elbow and goes "wow, what a nice bamboo grove! the two of us are going for a walk! a nice LONG walk FAR AWAY in the BAMBOO GROVE for THIRTY TO FORTY MINUTES! see you in THIRTY TO FORTY MINUTES!"

huang gai: i literally spent 30 years in the army you don't need all these euphamisms.

lu su: LALALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER THE SCENIC RUSTLING OF THE BAMBOO!

*insert that scene from Flirting Scholar where zhou yu and kongming start fighting, they roll under a table, there is a brief skirmish, and they come out with their clothes swaped. they are playing doubles on a single qin the entire time.*

[taeescript]

29 + 1 (Part Two)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (squint harder than before for taehyung x reader) 

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: slice of life; ceo!seokjin; a dash of enemies to lovers au 

𝔴𝔠: 7.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: language; a plethora of drunk people, maybe a sext, and a ton of lying (possible implication of impending smut?!) 

𝔞/𝔫: this part came out longer than i thought it would be but *shrugs* feedback and thoughts always welcomed. enjoy (:  𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: DailyHive is real; this is not associated with it 

part one || part three 

The bright pop music that is blaring from the speakers does little to slow your animated talking. Bodies are packed into the small local bar, and students on summer break fill booths and form a snake of impatient, drunk (and horny) people. A slow trickle of the brazen has started to fill the dance floor as the evening morphs into the night.

  You whip your hair into a ponytail and dab at the sweat that is beading your forehead. You definitely should have worn that sleeveless top rather than this thicker t-shirt dress.

  “So, is he like your sugar daddy or something?” Taehyung asks, “Also drink.”

  Friday nights were usually spent at home, snuggled under the blankets in your pjs binging another rewatch of Friends. After work today, you could no longer hold onto your secret and invited Taehyung out for drinks. His girlfriend, Fei, was supposed to join but had been held back for overtime.

  You tip the shot back with no chase.

  “You’re a monster,” he comments as he bites into his lemon piece.

  The two of you had made a bet at the beginning of the evening: you each chose a pop song and each time it played, the nominee had to take a shot. That was your fourth of the night, and to say there was a bit of a buzz is an understatement.

  “It’s all throat technique, Tae,” you say with a bit of a slur, “Hit the back and swallow. No innuendo intended. Also, why the hell haven’t you had any to drink?”

  “You picked ‘Peaches’ for fuck’s sake.”

  “I told you I don’t listen to pop music. It was the first one playing.”

  “And shouldn’t that have told you something? Justin Bieber of all people?”

  “Shut up. It’s your song.” You nod at the pink-faced barista for another round. She slaps your order in front of the two of you without so much a glance.

You don’t even know what song is playing, but you feel quite satisfied watching Taehyung make a face as he downs it in one go.

  He clears his throat after the liquor has burned its way down to his stomach. “Back to my question: is he your sugar daddy?”

  You bark out a laugh. Was he? Perhaps the fact that he paid for fancy meals at lunch? Those have been his one o’clock meetings for the past two months.

  “I don’t know. I’d rather he buy me a car or pay my rent if anything. A casual 1k a week wouldn’t be so bad either. We just sit in his office and eat in secret, Tae. He’s ‘training me in the art of culinary cuisine’. I think it’s just so I don’t embarrass him by stuffing a shrimp cocktail up my nose.”

  “You do know – ”

“Yes, I know. And I would never. It’s a metaphor. It’s just that the position ‘intern’ is quite loosely defined at DailyHive, don’t you think?”

  Taehyung rinses his mouth with water before speaking. “So let me get this right. Mr. Kim calls you into his office, says he’s going to take you as his guest to the biggest tech event of the year, treats you to lunches and doesn’t ask for anything in return? No secret midnight meetups or shady business deals…”

  You shake your head.

  “Damn,” Taehyung says, resting his arm on the bar table, “Forget sugar daddy. He’s just daddy.”

  Sticking your tongue out, you gag visibly at his comment. “Do not ever call him that again, Tae; ev-er.”

  He laughs and watches you pensively. After a moment’s thought, he says, “Nobody has ever called me Tae.”

  “What do they call you then?” you reply, wrinkling your brows together. A cute brunette across the room catches your eyes and for the briefest of seconds, you wonder what a one-night-stand would feel like.

  He shrugs. “Just Taehyung.”

  The brunette waves in your direction. You are about to return his wave when an equally cute brunette runs up to him. He promptly kisses her before swivelling her around to join his group of friends.

  “Sorry. Do you want me to stop? I just assumed since we were out of the office…”

Oh Fate, how cruel you are. Life of twenty cats and solidarity, here you come. Maybe dogs. You feel like you could be more of a dog person.

  “No,” he stops you, “You can call me Tae. Whatever you want.”

  You turn your attention back on the also cute brunette in front of you. In all honestly, despite his youthful god-like countenance, he looks slightly out of place at this college bar with you in his upstanding business attire and dorkishly adorable thick-framed glasses.

  “Sure. How about Tee-Tee? Or Hyungie? The TaeMan?” You wiggle your brows with the suggestion.

  “God help me.”

  The two of you clink your shot glasses together even though neither of your songs are being played.

  His Apple watch lights up to indicate an incoming message. He relays the text to you, “Fei’s done work. She’s on her way now.” You can’t help but notice a shift in his previously excited demeanor.

  You nudge him with your elbow. “Aren’t you excited? She’ll need a glass of wine or two to destress after work. I might be projecting onto you for this part, but you’re buzzed. So after we get her to unwind I’m sure the overwhelming power of pheromones will get you lucky tonight.” You wink at him to emphasize your point.  

“She’s not a big drinker. She’s probably just going to come and ask to leave in five minutes. Bars like this aren’t really her thing either,” he states. He then unbuckles his watch and tucks it away into the pocket of his pants. Undoing the cuffs of his shirt, he rolls up the sleeves and continues to regard you solemnly. “Okay, next round is one me. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to switch songs?”

  You notice how nice, long, and slender his fingers are. Plus the thing of girls liking when men have visible veins on their forearm? That had never really caught your attention until now.

  “She’s a bit of a bitch,” you say and immediately regret, “Shit, sorry. That just slipped out. Alcohol.”

  He offers you his water to drink.

  “I mean, she’s a little…uptight at times? But people can be completely different in and out of work. I can only imagine how stressful it is in her position. Working overtime until 9pm on a Saturday night seriously sucks,” you say to try and mend your wrongdoing.

  “Fei in the office is basically Fei at home,” he says softly, “It’s always work with her.”

  “We support career-driven women, yeah?” A smile is offered from you to him.

  He finally lets out a small one and nods. Out of the blue, he reaches over and covers your hand with his. Staring intently into your eyes, he says, “I know she makes you do her reports and occupies your time to do her coffee runs as well. You can say no to her. She may be my girlfriend, but you’re technically my intern, and I will stand on your side no matter what.”

  “Um, okay. Thanks, Tae,” you say. His sincerity has caught you off guard.

  At that moment, the sound of clicking heels pierce its way into your eardrums through the noise of the even busier bar. Taehyung quickly retracts his hand.

  Fei arrives, not a hair out of place in her tightly pulled bun. Her lips are painted a striking red against the paleness of her skin, and her manicured nails dig into the forearm of Taehyung when she reaches them. Even though she is wearing an otherwise drab office business suit, the curvature of her body draws quite a few glances from the younger men in the crowd.

  “It’s like a zoo here,” she sneers, turning away from a sacrificial lamb who had been bold enough step out of his circle of friends to greet her with a sleezy “hey”.

  “Hi, Fei. Busy night?” you greet her first.

  She gives you a tight-lipped smile. “Yes. I don’t know why you weren’t there. Isn’t it the intern’s job to complete reports?”

  Again, a loosely defined use of “intern” at DailyHive.

  You return her smile with a crisp one of your own.

  She turns away from you and regards Taehyung, who looks as if he had been the sacrificial lamb instead. “Teddybear, let’s go home. You know this type of place isn’t my vibe. I’m getting a headache already.”

  You raise an eyebrow at his pet name.

  He turns a little bit pinker, if that is possible under the current alcohol-induced glow of his cheeks, and says, “Um, sure. Y/N, are you going to be okay getting home?”

  Waving him off, you show him your phone. “30% left. I’ve got pepper spray in my bag and enough booze in me to not run from a fight. I’ll call an Uber home soon, don’t worry.”

  Fei has already begun to fight her way through the squirming, dancing bodies. Taehyung glances quickly at her and turns back to you once last time. “Text me that you’re home safe.”

  “Will do, boss,” you smile at him warmly.

  He lingers for just a moment more before running after his impatiently waiting girlfriend.

  You turn back to the bar and order another beer for yourself. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is perhaps the biggest perk of being single.

...

On the opposite side of town, sinking deeply into a soft lounge chair is Seokjin enjoying a rare evening out with his best friend. He has swapped his usual attire for a more relaxed fit of a white oversized crewneck and techwear bottoms. A heavy, exorbitant fur-lined long leather coat hangs on the coat rack beside the door to their private VVIP room. He swirls his glass of Chateau Lafite before sipping delicately.

  Outside, only a handful of patrons sit quietly engrossed in their own conversations. It is a relatively empty night at the high-end lounge. A lady sings sultrily on stage with the smooth background of a saxophone as accompaniment.

  Junho has poured himself another glass while he is talking to Seokjin. Seokjin had since slightly tuned out his friend’s rather elongated rendition of another celebrity sighting to occupy his mind with another individual.

  “Earth to Jin? When did you get so lightweight since I’ve been gone?” Junho waves a hand in front of Seokjin’s nose.

  Seokjin blinks to refocus.

  “The mansion I bought last year or the one I bought last month?” he reiterates. Sensing that Seokjin truly had no idea what the topic at hand had been, he tries again.

  “Where should I do my birthday party this year, man? I thought the mansion from last year since it’s closer to the city, but I feel like it’s been reused too many times. It’s not completely furnished yet, but the property I got last month is significantly bigger and I can probably host more people.”

  “The new place then,” Seokjin answers half-heartedly.

  Junho grumbles something intelligible.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing,” Junho sighs, “Tell me what’s new with you. How’s that little project of yours going? I still can’t believe you won’t let me know who you’re planning to take to the Gala.”

  Seokjin had refused to release even the slightest detail about you to Junho. Letting him know that Seokjin had agreed to one of his plans would be enough to inflate Junho’s ego for at least a little while.

  “It’s been going...”

  Junho waits for more of Seokjin’s answer, but his friend’s attention has been turned to a received text.

  10:17pm “Safe and sound, Teddy Bear.”

  10:17pm “Or should I say Taeddybear? 🥴”

10:18pm “That last beer done me rael godo.”

  10:18pm “Real good**”

  Seokjin raises a brow at the unknown number. He responds back.

  10:18pm “Who is this? I think you’ve got the wrong number.”

  Junho crosses his legs and sits back with a sigh. He presses the button to request for an attendant.

  10:19pm “You know who… Anyways, I just wanted to say thank you for saying you’ve got my back. It’s definitely appreciated.”

  The response doesn’t do much except to further pique Seokjin’s curiosity.

  “Sorry,” he says, sliding his phone back into his pocket, “Rogue text I think.”

  Junho shrugs. “Is that right? Seems to have caught your attention.” There is now a manner of indifference to his voice.

  “It’s going well, by the way – answering your question. I mean, all things considered. It’s not like I have to teach her how not to stuff a cocktail shrimp up your nose.”

  His friend snorts. “I’d be concerned and against this person if it’s who you’re planning to bring.”

  Seokjin’s phone buzzes again.

  10:21pm “Pray for me when I wake up with the worst hangover of my life. I’m going to bed now.”

  A moment of silence.

  10:21pm “I hope I didn’t piss off Fei tonight for stealing you for the evening.”

  10:22pm “Okay I’ll shut up now. Please don’t tell me you’re reading this. You should be getting some 😼💦.”

  The emoji makes Seokjin choke, liquid sputtering from his lips.

  Junho cusses. He angrily dabs at the speckle of red wine that has landed on his pearly white top.

  10:23pm Download attached image. “Just in case, here’s a little something to get the night started 😉”

  “What the hell man?” Junho gets up and makes his way to the bathroom. Luckily, the previously called attendant had arrived in time to escort him.

Seokjin barely notices that he is alone in room as he taps the download button. It isn’t until he has returned home and is looking at the picture one last time before bed that he realizes who his mysterious texter is.

  The employee nametag clipped to the collar of your workday shirt hanging on the arm of a chair can only be found when zoomed in past your painted toes and naked feet.

... 

You cannot hide your nervousness when you arrive at your “lunch meeting” the following Monday morning. All weekend, you had cursed yourself for not better checking who the recipient of your texts were before pressing send. Never had you thought that in your drunken stupor you would mix up “The Devil” in your contact list with “Taehyung Kim.” Curse you and your lack of friends beginning with the letter “T”.

  You balk before, a hand poised in perfect position for a knock. Maybe he didn’t download it? And even if he did, it was just a troll feet pic. You had made sure that it was as pg-13 as possible before you had sent it.

  “Hi,” you greet sheepishly when he has given you the go to enter.

  In a smart plain blue button-up and round frames that are almost certainly for the aesthetics, the CEO of the company and your boss sizes you up and down.

  “I know we’ve gotten to know each other better these past few weeks. But you’d think it’s still common courtesy to at least make eye contact,” he says. You look at him wide eyed without a word.

  He rolls his eyes but does not gesture to your usual seat. In fact, you don’t spy a take-out container in sight. He instead stands up and picks up his phone, walking to the door. He notices you have yet to move.

  “Let’s get moving. You’ve only got a 45 minute lunch.”

  You scramble to match his speed and catch Taehyung’s eye as you grab your jacket at your desk. Taehyung’s gaze follows you as you hurry to leave in pursuit of Seokjin’s coattail.

... 

The restaurant is a popular vegan establishment with a plethora of greenery crawling up its high ceilings and a window-framed overview of the city’s skyline. Waiters and waitresses who may just as well be walking New York Fashion Week serve you brunch mimosas on a golden plate; they attentively wait to the side in case you ever run out of water.

  Common topics are rare between the two of you. Initially, you respectfully kept quiet and only answered questions when asked, but you have never been one for awkward silence. Yes, it’s awkward only if you make it awkward; there is just no denying the hanging suspense that curls your toes each time. Recently, you have started with simple inquiries regarding the company, who they might meet at the Gala and everyday mundane topics.

  “You’re probably wondering why we’re out of the office,” Seokjin says. He continues shortly after taking a bite of his meal and ignores the look of your surprise at his initiation of a conversation. “My office has been getting stuffy with the warmer weather so I thought it’d be nice to get some fresh air. How’s the food?”

You nod, making small sounds of contentment as you chew on the Avocado Lime Tartare. Mmm… tart-y.

  He takes a deep breath in, stalling the incoming conversation. “It’s my friend’s birthday this next weekend.”

  “Oh,” you say, “Happy early birthday to him.”

  “He’s my best friend.”

  “Well… An extra happy early birthday to him.”

  A sigh. “Are you free next weekend?”

  Your chewing comes to a halt and you blink once at his question. Next weekend is the weekend before the Silver Gala. It is also the sole weekend before your birthday the following Friday after the Gala. You had hoped to spend it with Taehyung and maybe even Jimin who had promised to be in town on a long overdue vacation despite your chastising to visit your parents first.

  He senses your trepidation. Quickly, he explains himself, 

“He’s having a birthday party Saturday night. He has a place about an hour north of here. I can have somebody pick you up if that’s more convenient. I don’t have a birthday present for him and thought it’d be nice for you to meet him.”

  “You’re giving him me for a present?” you ask, incredulously.

  He bites his tongue. He never anticipated how awkward this conversation could go.

  “You’re going as my plus one. He really wants to meet you; in fact, he insisted that you be there. He’ll be at the gala too. I have something else planned for his birthday present,” he adds hastily, “Besides, you’re less than qualified as a present.”

  Musing silently to yourself, you wonder if in any situation should a human be qualified as a present. Despite that, you hate yourself as you agree on the spot.

  The rest of the lunch passes by quickly in dull silence. As Seokjin pays for the meal on the company card (and hands you the receipt for reimbursement), you note that there has been no comment made on any strange photos texted to him over the weekend.

  Perhaps being nonchalantly implied as a human birthday gift to a stranger is your karma for sending weird texts to your boss.

  Seokjin stays inside the car as he drops you off at the office after lunch, already preparing for his next business meeting. You nod your goodbye and step onto the pavement through the courteously held open door of the limousine.

“Y/N, try a soft pink. Fuchsia is not your colour,” he tells you as the door is closed.  

He then leaves you standing in front of the large office doors, staring at your chipped, week-old purple toenails.

... 

“I’m not exactly expecting a package in the mail or a dress laid out on the hotel bed – ”

“You guys are staying at a hotel?” Taehyung says over the phone.

  You are standing in your bedroom, an hour before when Seokjin is supposed to pick you up as an offering to his best friend. There are two dresses laid out on your Hello Kitty bed covers: a simple black dress you had worn once when you were a little bit more in shape and your prom dress.

  “No, I’m at home. But I mean, let me play into this movie metaphor.”

  “You suck at metaphors.”

  You have your phone propped up on some pillows so that you can see Taehyung as you debate your fashion decision. He is in a relaxed white tee, hair messily framing his face after a shower and a bowl of popcorn in his hands. You watch as a droplet of water runs down his face from his still-wet hair. He nonchalantly licks it off from the side of his mouth.

  “As I was saying, it wouldn’t hurt to get me something. He made it seem like it was a big deal. Like doesn’t the male lead usually surprise the female lead with a big bouquet of flowers and this over-the-top expensive dress which she wears and makes the male lead fall head over heels in love with her?”

  He chews silently on a kernel then probes, “You want Mr. Kim to fall in love with you?”

  “No,” you hastily correct, “It’s a metaphor. I think you’re the one who sucks at metaphors.”

  There is a beep on your phone to indicate you have another incoming call.

  “Tae, I’m going to have to call you back. My brother’s calling me,” you tell him. The black dress; your old prom dress is way too early 2000s. Black never hurts.

  “Okay. Have fun tonight. Pretend that it’s your birthday party. And then I’ll meet you for brunch tomorrow, my treat? You can tell me all about it,” he says. “Also the black. You look cute in that one.”

  “My party if I was 30, rich and successful. Oh wait, I’ll have one thing in common soon; that’s a start. Thanks though. I’ll call you tomorrow morning once I get up,” you say, then switch the call over to your brother. You had missed the flush of his cheeks as you busily swipe your phone.

Sticking the prom dress back into your closet, you rummage around the meager display of shoeboxes for a pair of high heels.

  “Hey, Jimin,” you greet over the phone.

  “Jesus, I do not need to be accosted by my half-naked sister,” he yells over the phone.

  You turn rapidly, seeing that you had accidentally continued a video call from when you had hung up on Taehyung. You throw a pillow over the camera in your haste to cover yourself up.

  “I was going to ask why you’re dressed like that but on second thought, I think I’ll leave your sexual exploits as your own secret.”

  Despite how disturbed you feel about this comment, his cheerful voice makes you smile.

  “So little sis, the weekend before the big three-oh!”

  “Please stop reminding me.”

  “Where do you want to meet tonight? I just got off the plane, but I can be ready to meet in about an hour. I booked a hotel close to the airport.”

  Shit. You forgot to tell Jimin. These heels will have to do.

  “Um… I, uh…”

  “What?”

  You clear your throat and begin to undress in front of the mirror. You have a sudden conscious thought that the dusty treadmill in your living room seems to be staring daggers at your back. 

  “I’ve got plans tonight.”

  “Plans? I wasn’t even aware you had friends here.”

  “Ouch, Jimin. But yes, I have friends. In fact, I am meeting a friend for brunch tomorrow if you want to join. I’m sure he’ll be okay with it.”

  “He?” Jimin repeats, “Should I put on my big brother boxing gloves? Give him a good talking to in case he’s interested in my baby sister?” Pause. “Was that who you were calling before?”  

You bite your answer back, not feeling the need to go down that rabbit hole.

  “He’s just a friend; A co-worker really,” you say, “He’s also unavailable. And before you suggest anything, his goalkeeper is technically one of my bosses so I do not want to try and shoot past her thank you very much.”

  Jimin laughs. “I wasn’t going to suggest anything. Well if you’re busy tonight, tomorrow morning works for me. Give me a call. I’ll spend the night in watching some good ol’ Netflix and enjoy this vacation time.”

  “Sorry again,” you apologize.

  “Go out and have fun,” he says, “You deserve it.”

  The two of you finish off the call with the usual goodbyes. You have forty-five minutes to dress the part of a sparkly birthday surprise for the co-founder of the company you work for. Throwing on your favourite throwback music, you get to work.

  Once satisfied, you snap a picture and sending it to Taehyung making special care that you have picked the right individual this time.

... 

The mansion is bigger than you could have ever imagined, and the amount of people present are…

  “You’re telling me I can do whatever I want tonight,” you ask Seokjin in the car.

  There is no denying that Seokjin knows how to dress for an event. In a velvety black and white suit, contrasted by his blonde hair which he has elected to temporarily dye for the evening, he looks very much the posh CEO magazines brand him out to be. You are glad you elected for the simple black dress as standing beside this Renaissance statue in a floral pastel yellow dress would be like planting dandelions in Kanye’s sculpture garden (if he ever wanted one).

  “The majority of people won’t recognize you after tonight. They’ll also be too drunk to even register anything you tell them,” Seokjin says.

  He cannot believe that you chose a simple black dress. Did you really not own anything remotely feminine besides the most generic clubbing outfit? Even if you had wanted to make an appearance as a hooker, at least make it an expensive-looking one. Maybe he should have bought you that Versace dress he spotted in the window the other day. Instead…

  “Take this. Your earrings are too gaudy for this event.”

  You touch the sparkly black cats you have put into your ears. Their eyes are made of crystal, and you thought it looked quite fetching in the light. Opening up the box, you see a dainty elegant pair of teardrop earrings that may or may not be of real diamonds.

  “Only Junho will know who you really are and then you can enjoy the rest of your night. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being held here against your will.”

  Putting them on, you note that even this simple change in attire has elevated the entirety of your presence. You felt as luxurious as this gift.

  “Thanks, Seokjin,” you try the first name basis he had insisted upon for this evening, “Not going to lie, I had imagined that maybe you’d send me a dress in the mail or something, but this is still very nice.”

  He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Like in the movies? Please, I run a start-up company. I’m not a millionaire and I don’t think you would appreciate my handouts.”

  You don’t respond, making your second note of the night on the Prada label on the cuff of his suit. “To clarify, I don’t introduce myself as your plus-one tonight.”

  “No. I don’t want you associated with me,” he curtly states. He watches as your smirk twitches and he hits himself mentally in the head again. “It’s to protect you. There are bound to be tons of paparazzi tonight at a party as big as this. I don’t want you to find yourself in the tabloids tomorrow morning. Just be smart.”

  The car pulls to a stop after inching its way up to the front door. People mill about outside in extravagant brands, holding glasses of champagne. The man of the hour is somewhere inside the building, charming his way into new business deals as well as making new friends.

  “Stay close to me. You can leave after we meet Junho. It is his birthday after all,” Seokjin offers a hand as you step out of the car.

  You take it, looping yourself into him so that your hand rests on his forearm. You are only 13 days younger than Junho, and yet this striking contrast in lifestyle hits you like a landslide while the two of you walk up the stairs and into the mansion.

  Inside, it is dim with disco lights flashing to the beat of amped party music. Upon entrance, the two of you are offered glasses of liquor (you take a swirling iridescent drink) to which you are then ushered to where the birthday boy lounges.

  Junho has an even more youthful face than Seokjin does. Where Seokjin’s features exude class and charm, Junho appears mischievous and looks to have stepped out of every girl’s bad boy dream.

  You stop Seokjin with a tug and make him look at you. “Tell me: do I look like a passable birthday offering?”

  Seokjin rolls his eyes and pulls you along with him.

  “Jin!” Junho hollers loudly across the room when spotting his oldest friend. There is a doll-like female magnetized to his side. “This is Clara, my date for the evening.”

  Seokjin shakes her hand and greets them. The female cannot seem to pry her eyes away from this handsome new stranger. He introduces himself chivalrously to her as Junho sides up to you and grips your hands in his. His breath smells strongly of mixed drinks, and you know that in about fifteen minutes the entire night will be a blur for him.

  “You must be Y/N!” he says excitedly, “Jin didn’t tell me that you were coming! What a surprise!”

  “I am,” you greet back with a large smile. “Although I’m also surprised. Seokjin told me that you had insisted I came.”

  Seokjin grits his teeth, annoyed at Junho. Would he ever learn when to keep his big mouth closed?

Laughing loudly, Junho grabs two drinks just as a waiter passes by and hands them to you. “Insist might be a strong word,” he says, drilling another hole unknowingly, “I honestly thought I’d have to play part-time wingman tonight. But I’m glad he’s got someone by his side.” He jabs you a little too hard in the ribs. “Next week’s gala is going to be fun! Okay, now there’s only one rule tonight: there are no rules!”

  The four of you clink your glasses together, while you do your best to hide an embarrassed smile on behalf of the birthday boy.

  “You bet I’m going around as your trophy wife tonight,” you whisper in Seokjin’s ear when Junho looks away.

  He whirls around to look at you, the tip of both your noses impossibly close together. He can taste the acidity of the wine when you breath out with a wicked smile. He barely has time to stop you as you peel yourself away to mingle with the crowds.

  Seokjin is about to follow you but Junho pulls him away, flamboyantly introducing his handsome best friend to a group of international models. He turns on his brightest smile, but his heart thunders in his chest at you calling yourself his wife.

... 

You twirl around in your dress, nobody noticing the small splash of champagne on the front of it in the quickly changing lights.

  “He bought this for me last week. Says it reminds him of the first night we met. Our eyes met across the waters in Tuscany where he was on a business trip. I’ll let you on a little secret, but I was his mistress for a little while.”

  Seokjin cannot make out the words you are saying to a small but growing group of people around you. He stands across from Junho, but looks over the latter’s shoulders to watch as you do another spin.

  “A little while, Charlotte? Are you still his mistress?” an older lady with an exuberant amount of jewels hanging off her body whispers with a keen interest in your expertly spun story.

  Charlotte Dior Laurent, an identity you are pretty sure is an amalgamation of French brands from the top of your mind. You continue to personify this character however.

“Don’t worry. He’s left her since. I know I know, my friends all say the same. ‘He’s already been divorced three times. How can you be sure he won’t leave you?’”

  At this point, you are in way over your head at having told this story to at least two other groups and a multitude of other renditions to whomever you have met tonight. But there is something powerful about liquid courage as it courses through your body.

  The lady lays a hand on your arm. “I don’t want your heart to break. You are still young.”

  Looking up between the heads of your audience, you catch Seokjin’s eyes. They are fiery and it sends a strange sensation up your toes to your abdomen. You give a titillating wave at him in which he does not return.

“He says I’m special and different. How can you say no to that?” you exclaim with exasperation, fully committing to the poor damsel just oh-so in love.

  There is a look of genuine concern on the lady’s face at your statement.

  Before you can dig yourself a deeper hole, you place your empty glass on the table and excuse yourself. You do not know if it’s the drinking on a relatively empty stomach or if the room is really much warmer due to the multitude of bodies, but you head out to the balcony.

  On your way out, you notice that the clock reads twenty minutes past midnight. This gives you a shock at how fast time has passed. Perhaps you should go find Seokjin if you are to get a decent amount of sleep before meeting with Taehyung and Jimin tomorrow. Speaking of Taehyung…

  You pull out your phone and see that there are two unread messages. The first is from Jimin, confirming that he is indeed invited to brunch tomorrow morning. The second is a response from Taehyung.

  11:09pm “Wow. You have me a little lost for words. I had imagined you’d look nice in the dress but… You really are beautiful.”

  Smiling, you type in your response.

  12:21am “Thanks, Tae. You’re up late.” You take a picture of the earrings Seokjin had gifted you and attach it to the message. “What do you think of these?”

Barely have you returned your phone into your bag when it buzzes again. This time you receive an attached image. Taehyung seems to be sitting in front of a monitor, as his face glows with a blue light and contorted into a pensive furrow of his brows.

  12:21am “A little different from your usual style. Are they new? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear those.”

  12:21am “Fei’s out with some friends tonight. She likes when I wait for her to come back before I sleep. To make sure she’s safe, I guess.”

  12:22am “Pooey. I should’ve brought you as my plus-one 😩. Also, Seokjin bought them for me for tonight. He says my other earrings are too gaudy.”

  12:24am “First name basis 🙃”

  12:25am “How is your night going? Having fun?”

  You are about give Taehyung a call for a detailed recounting of tonight’s escapades when someone speaks out from within the shadows.

  “A penny for your thoughts?” He walks into the moonlight. You flush, meeting the eyes of this particularly dashing gentleman, the phonecall immediately forgotten.

  Oh, Alcohol, you make even the smartest of people do dumb shit. And right now, your effects are even worse on this idiot.

  Your mouth hangs slightly open as you watch him puff out smoke from his cigar and offer it to you. He brushes up beside you, his fingers trailing up your hand which grips the balcony. You cannot seem to break away from his gaze.

  “Lung cancer has an increasing incidence rate particularly for females due to smoking. Are you sure you want to be condoning this type of behaviour?” Seokjin interjects himself between you and your Tuxedo Mask, pushing the outstretched cigar back towards its owner.

  There is a small stare down amongst the two men before the latter quietly exits the stage. Your eyes continue to linger on him even as he walks towards another female alone in the night enjoying the outdoor breeze.

  “You’ve just ruined by chance. I could have seduced then blackmailed him with the story of his illegitimate child to play Black Widow,” you whine.

  Seokjin takes the glass that had somehow magically appeared in your hand during the short walk from inside to outside on the balcony.

  “How many have you had since we came?” he asks.

  You sigh wistfully, still in your dangerous daydream. “I don’t know. I’ve lost count.” You turn your attention back to him eventually. “What are you doing here? Did you see me with him and get all jealous, hubby?” you tease.

  He scoffs, drinking from your glass and pulling a face. Once again, there is that twist and jump within his chest, but he attributes it to whatever nasty concoction he had just ingested. He pours its contents over the railing and into whatever shrubbery lies below. “You seriously went with being my trophy wife?”

  You shrug. “Of sorts. You’d better be right about people being too drunk slash not caring about me enough after tonight to remember the things I’ve said. ‘Cuz you’ve been divorced three times, had me along with another as your mistress, I think you’ve sired a few illegitimate children and all in all, a Games of Throne life. Damn, maybe I made you a little too badass.”

  “You’re having water for the rest of the night,” he says.

  You glare at him, contemplating on making a remark about his equally flushed face but decide against it. Instead, you lean onto the balcony and give a cat stretch. A large sigh escapes from you.

  Wordlessly, he shakes off his jacket and places it around your shoulder all the while averting his gaze on the unblemished skin of your upper thighs that had been exposed from your previous movement.

  Your blood feels like liquid fire coursing through your veins. Feeling overheated even in the evening breeze, you give him back his jacket. You note his reluctance to meet you even as you throw what could be a thousand dollar jacket in the air to him. “So what’s it like to live like this every day?” you say in wonder. You feel said breeze return and lean over the balcony to catch its chill.

  “Like what?” he asks. The warm summer night’s breeze blows through, settling his hair in a childish tousle.

  “Like rich,” you say. You sigh again. “Believe it or not, I’m the same age as your birthday boy best friend.

  And everything feels absolutely unreal right now. If I hadn’t agreed to come here tonight with you, I’d probably be at another dingy bar knocking back shots with my brother and friend.”

  “Are you a secret alcoholic?”

  You glare at him. “No,” you state matter-of-factly. “As I was trying to share, this type of lifestyle is something I could ever only imagine. I’m not ungrateful about spending time with them, but at the end of the night I’d go home, sweaty, drunk and gross, and then simply pass out. My bank account might be a couple hundred bucks lighter. Come Monday I’ll be working my ass off just to earn back what I had spent. Then cue the repeating cycle.”

  Resting your chin on your palm, your other hand sweeps your hair back behind your ear.

  “It’s amazing the difference a few life choices can have.”

  Seokjin remains silent beside you. Truthfully, he is at a loss of words. The moonlight plays across your face and caresses your nose down to your lips. You are arching your back once again to pull away the soreness that comes with wearing high heel the entire night. It is just a simple black dress but on you it made you look –

  “Well, you’re Mrs. Kim tonight,” he starts.

  “Charlotte Dior Laurent,” you correct him.

  He raises an eyebrow. “Okay… Ms. Charlotte Dior Laurent. Tonight you get to live like the rich, as you’ve put it. As a rich person, what would you like to do?”

  You ponder his question a few moments for the answer. “Hmm…I think I’d like to play golf. It’s a rich person’s sport. I want to play it on a private golf course, wearing cute golfing outfits and talk about million-dollar deals with a client without a care in the world. I want to order sangria by the gallon.”

  He laughs out loud. It takes a while for him to be able to speak again, but when he does you feel as if the night has been illuminated a few degrees brighter. “I personally don’t have a private golf course, but Junho does here in his backyard if you’re up for it. I can’t promise cute golfing outfits so you’ll have to do with your wine stained dress. And if you’re really up for it I can pretend to make business deals with you, that’s my job anyways.”

  You grin, taking the hand he has offered you. “Call.” The two of you shake upon his suggestion.

As he is leads you by the hand towards the dim gates of said golf course, you tug at him gently. “There’s something missing…” you say.

  He shakes his head and pulls you back in towards the party room. 

“I’ll see what they have at the bar.”

... 

As the hands of the clock continue to spin past another hour, the summer night takes a chilly turn. Seokjin has lent you his jacket but even that cannot stop your fingers from becoming numb. Your hands shake even as they tightly hold the golf club. Seokjin watches you in silence as you prepare to hit the golf ball, a beer in one hand and a few opened bottles littered on the grass beside him. The club hits the ball with a resounding “cling” but does little in propelling it a few centimeters.

  “This one doesn’t count,” you announce, “It’s too dark to see anything here.”

  Seokjin takes a swig as you readjust your position. You sway in the wind and the last tendrils of your hair come undone in its half up half down hairdo. Your hair now whips wildly around your face when another gust blows through.

  “Shit!” you exclaim, missing the ball again. “Why is golfing so hard?!”

  You throw your club down and trudge to Seokjin. The six pack the two of you had been sharing has officially been depleted. Seokjin offers you his half empty bottle. This time, you are the one watching as he goes to your spot and effortlessly swings his target into the darkness.

  He smirks from the spot.

  You grumble. “You’ve had years of practice. Not fair.”

  “You’ve got to do better than that, Mrs. Johnson,” he says, teasing you.

  Your grumble becomes more audible. You place the now empty bottle on the ground and cross your arms against your chest. Since telling him of your other American alias from tonight, he has not ceased to remind you of your strange choice of name.

  “Just so you know, Mrs. Johnson can afford both an affair and the consequential prenup,” you huff.

  “It’s still a stupid last name.”

  “It’s an American multinational corporation with an income in the billions, okay?”

  “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you sleep better at night. Now come on, I’ve got one last ball. Take a swing.”

  Groaning, you shuffle over. You wish you had not suggested golf. You had never been good at sports anyways – bad hand-eye coordination.

  He stands beside you this time, scrutinizing your every movement with hawk-like eyes. “No, not like that,” he says, “Have a wider stance and bend your knees. Better centre of gravity gives you a better swing. Also hold it with a neutral grip.”

  You readjust your positioning following his instructions.

  “Index finger down the center. Good. And three knuckles on each hand. No, that’s two. Okay your hands are just weird now. Three. I said three.”

  “Stop standing there and show me then, Mr. Know-It-All,” you say, your patience in this makeshift lesson also coming to an end.

  He walks closer to you, reaching out for the golf club. He retracts his hands in seeing that you have yet to let go. “You got to – ”

“You can touch me. I did tell you that Mrs. Johnson can afford an affair and prenup. Besides, I’m not going to be able to learn anything if I can’t even see you in this dark.”

  He comes behind you and puts a foot between yours to guide your stance. Wrapping his arms around you, he fixes the placement of your hands to grip the shaft of the club in the way he had previously instructed.

  Perhaps it is the mixture of wine, champagne and beer offered tonight, but being enveloped in the warmth of this embrace intoxicates you. The tingles that are sent down from his soft breathing on the base of your neck, make you shake like a leaf in the wind.

He inhales the sweet undertones of your perfume. The tendrils of your hair brush against his collarbone, sending a sensual kiss onto his skin. Unconsciously, he draws you closer to him, shielding you from another gust.

“Now you just want to swing,” he says, the words a mixture of a whisper and guttural grunt. His chest rumbles with it, passing the vibration through to your back.

  You remain as still as a statue and lean ever so slightly back into him until your entire backside is pressed upon him.

  You can’t stop yourself as you ask him, “Do you want to have sex with me?”

...

[bokettochild]

I just finished reading The Ties that Bind, and I love it! I have a small suggestion, one that you could completely ignore if you would like. Will Fable, Legend’s Zelda, meet Sky? Or Sky and the rest of the chain? I feel like that would be fun. But this is just an idea that I had, I’m not pressuring you do to anything.

I'm sorry it took so long to get to your ask, Anon! I've been thinking about this for a while, and the truth is that, while I would LOVE to have Sky meet all of his daughters at some point, I don't know if it will happen in the main plot of the story itself.

Currently in the story, they are in Legend's Hyrule, so there is a good chance of it happening, I just don't know if it will.

Considering this came along with various fic requests, I did end up writing something where they 'meet' but.. I'm terribly sorry, it's entirely crack, and I took way too many liberties with it.

I hope it will do to hold you over until Fable can make an actual appearance in the story!

“So, we finally get to meet your sister?” Hyrule asked, following as Legend led their group down the halls of Hyrule castle.

“Yes.”

“Yes!” Wind pumped his fists. “The only Zelda we haven’t met! I wonder what she’s like?”

“Kickass.” Legend smirked, stopping before one of the opulent doors and turning to face them. “I’d watch yourselves.”

There were a lot of things the Chain was expecting to see when they walked through the doors, but Warriors wasn’t expecting to see a young woman who looked quite ridiculously like Legend, if not for the haircut, spinning around to see look at them before having a wide smile break over her face.

“Z?”

“Link!” And the princess was running, running forwards with feather soft, tinkling laughter into the arms of...Wild? “Oh, Link! I haven’t seen you in ages! Why, look at you! Growing your hair out I see.” Another giggle drifted into the air as the girl brushed a hand through the Champion’s messy bangs.

Wild flushed slightly, much to the shock of all present, but especially to Legend, who stared between the two with his mouth hanging open.

“Everyone’s missed you so terribly, especially after you disappeared so suddenly! The Master was absolutely furious.” Fable added with a nervous laugh, smacking Wild’s arm lightly. “Thank goodness I can tell him all is well and you didn’t get killed or something, we thought he’d oust Robin for good when we couldn’t find you!”

Wild winced, nodding slightly. “I’m on another quest, but maybe I can send a letter? The mail system is working pretty well, for some reason.”

“Not out of Hyrule unfortunately.” Fable pouted, seemingly taking no interest in noticing the rest of them for the moment, instead continuing to stand in Wild’s personal space, neither having quite let go from their unexpected and rather startling hug. “Without you, the Master has closed all contact with Hyrule; I don’t think he wanted anything else to happen, especially since Mother would have been furious if someone else had gone missing.”

“Wait,” Warriors turned to see Wind staring at the- couple? Duo? “Zelly?”

“Tune!” Fable squeaked, pulling away from Wild and darting over to hug the second smallest hero. “My goodness you’ve grown! Are the two of you on an adventure together then? Wonderful!” Ocean blue eyes trailed up to look at the rest of their gang and Fable brightened even more. “Why, all of you are here!”

“All of us?” He couldn’t keep confusion from his tone as he spoke, quirking a brow.

“Well, nearly all,” Fable frowned, setting Wind down to gently stroke her chin. “And here I hoped to see Young Link again.”

Warriors was going to lose his mind. “Young Link?” His eyes turned to Time, who smiled with a light flush, raising one hand in a nearly shy wave.

“Hey, Zelly.”

The princess gasped, hands flying up to cover her mouth as she stared upwards to meet Time’s gaze. “Young Link? My. Goodness! Look- Oh my! You’re all grown up, aren’t you? I declare, you get even more terrifying than half of the others!”

“Legend,” Sky was grinning as bright and warm as the princess, eyes sparkling in the same manner and erasing any doubt that he was the young woman’s ancestor. “You didn’t tell us your sister was The Princess Zelda!”

Legend stared up at his ancestor in disbelief before shaking off Sky’s hands and throwing up his own. “That’s it,” The vet spun on his heel and turned towards the door. “I’m gonna go bang my head against the wall for an hour, toodles.”

“Well,” Fable turned to Sky with a bright grin. “It is wonderful to see you again, Link. Good heavens, how on earth do all of you handle being ‘Link’, it was bad enough having you all switch out, but now you’re all together at once! How do you handle it?”

“I go by Sky,” The Skyloftian replied with a fond smile. “He’s Wild, Wind, and Time. We use our hero titles.”

“Oh! That is clever! Sheik and I both have different names, so I suppose had it easy, I’m surprised no one thought of that before, what with how you all switched out so often- oh!” And the princess was spinning around to look up at Twi. “We’ve missed you too of course, but I must ask, since you’re all apparently time-traveling or some nonsense, could you give a message to your Zelda for me? I haven’t seen her in ever so long, and I do miss being able to talk over things with her.”

“I’ll pass it along.”

“You too.” She turned to Time, brows furrowing lightly. “Sheif is so terrible about writing to me, and I’ve missed being able to ask for advice with my fighting skills.”

“Understood.” Time grinned, earning a mirror expression from the princess.

How the heck was everyone taking this all in stride? Was Legend’s sister...dating Wild or some shit? How did she know Wind and Time? How did she know Sky? How did she know any of them?

“So,” Twilight cocked a hip and stared down at the princess with a warm smile. “They let you stay around, even after switching out all of us?”

“Yep! I am, apparently, quite the favorite. As is L- I mean Wild.” She sent a warm smile towards said hero, who flushed with pleasure. Ew.

“Should’a known it, he's a good kid.”

“He says you mentored him, so I suppose that can be attributed, in part, to you!”

“Aw, thanks, Zelly.”

Warriors would like a drink now please.

“Wait,” Four stared at the princess, eyes slitted and brows furrowed in a way that revealed he was clearly having a headache as well. “You’re- good grief- you know all of us, don’t you?”

Warriors really needs a drink. Seriously? Four too?

“And who are you?” Fable cocked her head.

Four flushed, ducking his head. “Hero of the Four Sword.”

Like a switch had been flipped, recognition sparked in Fable’s gaze. “Oh! That- that makes sense! I had forgotten, I suppose, how you all- well-” She waved her hand vaguely, and while none of the others seemed to understand it (thank Hylia he wasn’t the only one), Four apparently did. “You don’t think it’s weird?”

“Heavens no!” Fable drew back, looking mildly offended. “Link- my Link- or rather, my brother- Good heavens, what on earth do you all call him?”

“Idiot. Pain in the ass. Veteran.” Warriors listed off, making sure his displeasure with being left out of the conversation was made very clear.

“Legend.” Hyrule answered, shooting a glare Warriors’ way.

“Legend, my, that fits,” Fable shook her head with another tinkling laugh. “Does the same thing, albeit in a different manner and without the use of the Four Sword.”

“Heard that!” Legend shouted from just outside the room. “Stop telling them things!”

“Then come in here and make me, you sissy!”

The vet stormed back in, cheeks red and brow looking considerably more bruised than it had been ten minutes previous. “Not a sissy.”

“Yet you only appear on occasion, and never fight?” The princess snarked, hands on her hips.

“Do I look like I have the time to be fighting?” Legend returned, mirroring her pose with enough attitude to match the blue flames of the princess’s gaze.

“Well, if you have time to play dress up-”

“Necessary for a mission, miss ‘I fight duels in my regalia’.”

“I win duels in my regalia, thank you very much.”

“Heck yeah you do.” And was that- pride in the vet’s voice? “You scare the shit out of all of them.”

“I always was the better of the two of us at doing that, you just spend your time talking to cuckos and wearing my clothes.” The princess smirked.

Legend didn’t even have the decency to flush, crossing his arms with a smirk of his own. “You have to admit, I look better in it than you do.”

“Yes.” Fable beamed. “Yes, you do, and I hate it.” Her smile said the opposite but the conversation seemed to be over at that, the princess turning to continue conversing with the other heroes only to spin around again and clap her hands. “Oh! You're off exploring and adventuring, so you drop a message for me! Tell Peach and Daisy that I’m awful sorry I missed tea last time, we’ve been trying for weeks to get around to it, but with L- Wild having disappeared, the Master simply won’t give me the free time and Mother’s been just as strict.”

Legend pouted. “Only if they’re the only ones home, if I have to see that insufferable plumber’s face again I think I might just punch him.”

“Please do.” Fable spat. “He used that stupid hat of his to mind control me and make me kick the crap out of my team.”

“He mind controlled my sister?” Legend hissed.

“Yes, that dumb hat of his is sentient now, and he can force us to do things.”

“I hate that thing.” Wild scowled.

“Same.” Several others echoed.

Sky looked between them all. “Are we talking about Mario? Because if so, Legend, I will totally join you in punching him in the face, that guy is a pain!”

“Oh, him!” Hyrule scowled. “I don’t like him; he grates on my nerves like nobody's business.”

“He’s worse than Tingle.” Wind added, face screwed up in distain.

“Seconded.” Twilight and Time called out together.

“Third, Fourth, Fifth and sixthed.” Four added.

“Just because your name is ‘Four’ doesn’t mean you get four votes.” Warriors groaned, staring at his companions in irritation. “And who the heck are you all talking about? How do all of you know him? Is he immortal?”

“Hylia, I hope not.” Nine voices groaned at once.

“Neighboring kingdom.” Legend replied. “The Mushroom kingdom’s own hero is an idiot plumber by the name of Mario. His twin isn’t bad, but he’s a piece of work. I’ve had to deal with outbreaks of monsters from their kingdom on multiple occasions because he can’t keep them contained. Add in there that their princess is captured every other Tuesday because the guy can’t up and beat her kidnapper for good, and the kingdoms a mess.” Legend paused, frowning. “Wait, I just agreed to go there, didn’t I?”

“Yep.” Fable chirped. “But don’t worry, Bowser is hanging out with his kids this weekend, so he shouldn’t be causing problems while you’re all here.”

Warriors groaned, this time, loud enough that all of them heard him. “Bowser? Are you on a familiar enough standing with some villain that he tells you his weekend plans?”

“Yes.” The twin siblings answered, Fable bright and cherry while Legend deadpanned.

“We even play sports with him on occasion.” Fable added.

“And who,” Warriors tacked on, absolutely done and uncaring for the fact that apparently Legend and Fable played golf or something with their neighboring kingdoms greatest threat. “The heck! Is Mario?”

Nine pairs of eyes stared back at him for a moment, blinking in confusion.

“You know,” Twilight stated slowly. “Has anyone actually ever seen Wars at an event?”

“Come to think of it,” Fable tapped her chin. “You are the only one I’ve never seen before.”

“The only one?” Can Warriors please get a drink?

“I’ve met all of the others, be it in racing, sports, fighting matches, any number of things, but I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you, much less heard of you. Who are you?”

“That,” Legend smirked. “Is the Hero of Warriors. And I don’t know if I should laugh or feel bad that he was never popular enough to get selected for the games.”

“You weren’t either.” Wind hissed.

“Mom said I was on bed rest from being struck by lightning.” Legend waved him off. “I’ve had my time in the Mushroom kingdom, and if they ever do invite me back, I’d burn that Smash invite so fast the Master would think it never arrived.”

That’s it. He’s done. “Legend, I’m stealing your thunder-”

“Please do.”

“I’m going to go bang my head against the wall until the world makes sense again, or until I black out, Bye.” And with that, Warriors left.

(This entire fic was inspired by @tortilla-of-courage, her blog had a stint of asks about the boys knowing each other from Mario Kart and whatnot and it set my brain spinning. I blame her that this was the only thing I could think of when trying to write Sky meeting Fable. Thank's Tortilla!)

[konggodzuko]

Momtara & Dadko

Hello! Back with some more fics, just in time for Zutara month!!! This one is a piece of an old WIP on mine, modified a but and chopped down, but I still think it’s a cute fluffy thing. Ao3 link 

Story:

When the airship had descended to about twenty feet above from the snowy airfield, several crew members rappelled out to the ground, meeting the airfield’s ground crew.

“—and now, the they will work together to use the ropes the aircrew came down on to pull the airship a few more feet and then fasten it down,” Zuko explained.

There was a burble in response, then a small, yet strong hand grabbed his hair and pulled.

Zuko barely reacted, only readjusting the baby in his arms before pulling the hand away from his hair, and muttering, “No, Ursa, don’t grab Daddy’s hair,” before smiling, “Well, you seem to be in a better mood now, Moon Peach. Come on, let’s get back to Mommy and your siblings.”

The father and daughter left the observation deck and made their way through the ship to the royal family’s cabin.

Zuko opened the door and was relieved to see that things had calmed down a bit from earlier. Twelve-year-old Kya was reading a well-worn copy of Love Amongst the Dragons, while seven-year-old Haruki was working on a large drawing of… something he couldn’t see from this angle, and three-year-old Kiviuq was playing with animal toys.

Katara was sitting by the cabin window, and alternated between reading a document — Zuko was fairly certain it was a report on Nationalist movements in the Fire Nation — and staring out the window with a slightly giddy expression.

The entire family was dressed in Water Tribe blues, but the parkas had been foregone as the airship was still warm. Splashes of purple, red and gold accented the blues, to pay homage to the family’s mixed heritage.

The room itself was stately and well-furnished — reflecting the scaled-back royal aesthetic Zuko had come to prefer, with a distinct Water Tribe influence in the decor — but still rather cramped for a family of six used to having a full palace to themselves.

Zuko entered the room and Katara looked over at him, “How is she?”

“She’s fine, we were watching the airmen and ground crew bring the ship in,” he tickled Ursa under her chin, causing her to squeal happily, “And Ursa found Daddy very interesting, right?”

“Mama!” Ursa suddenly called out through her giggles, “Mama!”

Katara put her scroll aside and walked over to the pair. Ursa held out her arms and made grabby hands, so Katara plucked her daughter from Zuko’s hands and began peppering kisses all over the baby’s face.

“It should just be a few minutes before we disembark.”

Katara pulled away from Ursa and said, “I hope so, I want to be out there already,” she smiled at Ursa and started to coo, “isn’t that right, Moon Peach? Mommy is soooo tired of this cabin, and I bet you are too!”

Zuko gave his wife a quick peck on the cheek before leaving the mom and daughter and moving to look over the shoulder of Haruki, “What’re you working on?” The drawing was clearly supposed to be a human, or at least humanoid, but the head looked odd, even for a seven-year-old’s drawing, colored a green-blue with big red eyes. It reminded him of an insect.

“It’s my costume!” Haruki proclaimed, “It’s what I’m gonna wear to fight bad guys!”

Zuko raised an eyebrow, “Oh?”

“Mmhmm!”

“Where’d you get this idea?”

Haruki turned, and looked at his dad with large eyes that sparkled in wonder, “Kya told me about the Blue Spirit and Painted Lady! And how they fought bad guys all over the Fire Nation after you became Firelord!” He gasped, “Did you ever meet them?”

Zuko glanced off to the side, internally cursing his oldest daughter’s obsession with history, then said, “Erm, once or twice.”

“Wow! How cool were they? Are they spirits? Or are they people? Oh! Or are they spirits and people combined? Oh—”

“Sorry, kiddo, but again, I only met them once or twice, and it was very quick. I know what they looked like, but not much else.”

Haruki’s face fell, “Awww…”

Zuko ruffled his son’s hair, then asked, “So why green?”

“‘Cause it’s my second favorite color besides blue! And the Blue Spirit’s already Blue, so I can’t be blue!”

“Ohhh, okay. Well, your drawing’s very, very good.”

“Thanks daddy!” He went back to furiously scribbling with crayons.

“Daddy!” Zuko felt a tug on his pant leg, and he looked down to see Kiviuq staring up at him, holding aloft a wooden dragon. Kiviuq smiled widely when he saw he had hid father’s attention, and then asked quietly, “Dragon breath?”

“Er,” he glanced at Katara who had shot him ‘The Look’, “sorry, Snowball, but dragon breath is an outside thing, remember? Ask me later, okay?”

Kiviuq pouted slightly (and boy could Zuko see Katara in their son’s pout) but said, “Okay…” and wandered back to his corner to continue playing with his toys.

Zuko glanced at Kya and grinned, but didn’t go over to her. She was nose-deep in a book, and he knew that any sort of “unnecessary” distraction would be barely acknowledged. It was how he used to get way back before his banishment, when he just loved to read.

He went back over to Katara, who was bounding Ursa on her knee, much to their daughter’s delight.

“Exited to be back home?” He asked, smiling.

Katara grinned broadly, “I’ve needed this for a while. Everything’s been so—” she waved her hand irritably, “everything in Caldera, I can already feel myself relaxing.”

“You realize that the Council will probably immediately request you to show up at sessions, right?”

She laughed, “That’s fine, I’d still much rather deal with fishery disputes than, well,” she gestured at the scroll she had been reading.

“It’s nothing new, right?” They had had a briefing about the current situation regarding Nationalist violence shortly before their departure. The scroll had arrived via messenger hawk about a day into their flight, along with several other documents that their ministers had deemed important enough to pass on.

She sighed, “Apparently they’re starting to leave the Fire Nation and set up shop in the Republic.”

Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose, “Of course they are,” he shook his head, “Well, nothing can be done about that right now.”

“True,” Katara said.

Their conversation was interrupted by Ursa, who yelled angrily and patted Katara’s knee, which had stopped bouncing at some point.

The parents chuckled, and Katara resumed a gentle bounce.

The family sat in quiet peace for a while as the crews worked to secure the airship so they could depart. Ursa eventually tired out and fell asleep on her mom, but after a few minutes Katara transferred her to Zuko, who had donned a sling to carry the sleeping baby. As the Firelady went back to the report she had b been reading, her husband strode around the room, rocking the baby to keep her asleep.

Eventually, there came a polite knock at the cabin door.

“Come in,” Katara said.

There was a creak as it opened to allow Qibolin, the airship’s captain, to step in. He fell into an immaculate bow and said, “Your Majesties, I am delighted to report that we have officially arrived in the Southern Water Tribe. It also appears that Chief Hakoda has already arrived to greet you.”

“Thank you, Qibolin,” Zuko said, as Katara was already pulling out the parkas and bundling up the children.

It took a few minutes to get everyone properly dressed, but soon the family was moving through the passageways and arrived at the starboard hatch, where a gangway had been extended to the ground. And at the base of the gangway, chatting with a few of the airmen who had rappelled down earlier, was —

“Grandpa!” Kya and Haruki yelled at the same time and shot down the ramp.

Zuko and Katara shouted a simultaneous and useless “Don’t run!” Kiviuq — held by Zuko — shouted and tried to follow his older siblings, but there was no way Zuko was going to let his tiny son toddle down the ramp on his own. Ursa — held by Katara — paid no mind and just snuggled into her mom’s neck.

“Kids!” Hakoda yelled joyfully and leaned at the bottom of the gangway, arms spread wide. Kya and Haruki crashed into him and he wrapped them up in a big hug.

Zuko and Katara gave each other tired looks before continuing down themselves.

[honey-dewey]

Family Reunion

Pairing: Javier Peña /Reader

Word Count: 2,702

Warnings: mentions of canon-typical violence, probably inaccurate Spanish, but otherwise none! This is all fluff!

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Returning home is hard, but with you by Javier’s side, he can face anything. Including a Peña family reunion.

“I’m really not sure about this.”

You laughed, putting a hand on top of his and watching the Texas countryside pass you by. “Javi, it’s two days. What could possibly go wrong?”

Javier sighed. “Ay dios míos, you’re gonna regret saying that.”

The Peña family ranch was all set up for the reunion, and for the first time in a long time, Javier was actually able to go. He pulled up the driveway, face already scrunching as three women rushed out and stood eagerly on the edge of the driveway. “Here we go.”

Immediately, as soon as Javier’s feet hit the pavement, the three women were upon him, hugging and squealing that they’d missed him. You grinned, stepping out of the car and simply watching as Javier tried to brush off his sister’s affection.

Finally, once they were all done greeting Javier, he pulled you close to his side. “These are my older sisters, Maria, Cynthia, and Patricia.”

You smiled. “Pleasure to meet you all. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Cynthia bounded back into the house, apparently eager to tell everyone Javier was home. Maria, who you were pretty sure was the oldest, helped you and Javier grab your bags and take them inside. While Javier got lost in the sea of family members who hadn’t seen him in a decade, you found near silence in Javier’s old bedroom, which was where you two would be sleeping.

“Y’know, Mamá couldn’t believe it when he called home to say he got married,” Maria said, setting Javier’s bag on his bed. “Our little Javi, all grown up and married.”

You put your bag down next to Javier’s. “Is he the youngest?”

“Nah,” Maria said, pointing to a framed photo on Javier’s nightstand. “Melissa and Lori are both younger than him.”

Examining the photo, you suppressed a grin. “He’s the only boy?”

Maria’s Cheshire grin grew. “Yeah.”

An unfamiliar woman poked her head into the room. “Is this Javi’s spouse?”

You nodded.

“Ah!” The woman pulled you into a tight hug. “Hi! I’m Melissa!”

“Lissa!” Javier said, and Melissa put you down with a pout. “Bájalos, ahora.”

Another call of Melissa’s name, and she was racing out of the room with a cheerful laugh, Maria hot on her heels.  

Javier fell onto the bed, and you pulled the door shut, falling next to him. “Home sweet home,” he groaned, putting his hands over his eyes.

You rolled over and ended up laying on Javier’s chest, resting your ear on his collarbones. “I like it,” you said softly.

After a few minutes of simply enjoying each other’s company, a loud shout echoed through the house, disrupting your peace. “Lori’s home!”

The house began to bustle, but you stayed on top of Javier, keeping him trapped. He didn’t seem to mind, and actually wound an arm around your back to keep you secure. Voices filtered around you, but they were fuzzy, like they were underwater or behind a closed door.

Finally, someone opened the door to Javier’s bedroom. “Hijo?”

“Si mamá?”

Javier’s mother looked at you on top of him and smiled. “Lori is home. Do you want to say hello?”

Javier sighed, and you laughed as you were lifted up as he breathed in. “Yeah, I’ll come say hi.”

He stood, and you stood with him. “Come on. You’ll like Lori.”

Lori, if you remembered correctly, was the youngest and the most mature. She looked damn near identical to Javier, despite her feminine features and the fact that she was clearly younger.

“Ah, you must be Javi’s spouse!” She said, shaking your hand. “Damn, Javi really knows how to pick them!”

You laughed. “Thank you, but I think I picked him.”

Lori smiled. “Of course. C’mon! Can you bake?”

Turned out, Lori needed help with the pies, and you and her spent almost half an hour making various pie crusts and fillings. Javier tried to help for a few minutes, but he got dragged off to help somewhere else. You waved as he went, following one of the younger cousins.

“So, how was Columbia?” Lori asked, mixing another apple pie mix in a glass bowl.

You took a breath, continuing to knead lest your emotions get the better of you. “Hard,” you finally admitted. “Very hard. I wasn’t even in the thick of the fighting most times, but it was harder than anything I’ve ever done. We had to move four times, and we caught bombs in Javi’s car on two separate occasions. It was a good day if no one shot at him, and then there was all that shit with Los Pepes.”

“Oh I heard about that,” Lori said sadly, grabbing another pie pan. “That must’ve been hell for him, not being there when they finally put a bullet in Escobar.”

“Steve called us immediately,” you said. “The body was still warm, I don’t think the news knew yet. But we did. Javier cried.”

Lori shrugged. “What’s he gonna do now?”

You looked around, making sure the kitchen was empty. “Going back.”

“What?”

You nodded. “They’re sending us back, something about the Cali cartel? I dunno, but apparently it’s big and it’s a problem. They want Javi because, well, he’s had connections with those people.”

“Oh,” Lori breathed, passing the pie to you so you could lattice it. “That’s awful.”

“That’s government work,” you said with a sigh.

Before Lori could speak again, Javier came back with two men, one of whom put an arm around Lori’s waist.

“David, this is Javier’s spouse,” Lori said, smiling as the man kissed her cheek. “The one who was working with the DEA.”

David nodded to you. “Pleasure. I’d shake your hand, but,”

You grinned, holding up your pie crust covered hands. “I’ll spare you the feeling.”

“And this is my cousin Chris,” Javier said, leaning on the counter and watching you expertly lattice the pie in front of you. “How many of those are you making?”

“Three apple, two cherry, one pecan for Cynthia, one blueberry, and a peach pie for Javi.”

Javier lit up. “I thought you weren’t making a peach pie!”

Lori laughed. “Beth brought Georgia peaches, so I had to.”

Chris opened the oven, examining the pies. “Damn, these look divine.”

“Off,” Lori said, giving Chris’s hands a light smack with a wooden spoon. “These are for dessert!”

Once you were finally done and the pies only had to be baked, you were able to wash your hands and sit on the couch. Javier sat next to you, along with a few aunts and uncles you didn’t know. Javier’s father sat in a recliner, his mother sat on a loveseat, and beside her sat a wonderful old woman who you quickly learned was Javier’s grandmother. You closed your eyes, leaning against Javier’s shoulder and dozing a bit. You didn’t fall asleep, but damn you wanted to. Conversation filtered around you, but you didn’t pay much attention.

People came and went, and eventually, everyone was moving outside. Javier nudged you to awareness and you blinked blearily in the Texas sunlight as you followed him outside.

“Veteran DEA agent, bothered by a bit of sunshine,” Javier teased, handing you his aviators. “Ain’t you a sight.”

You huffed at him. “Don’t make me regret saying yes to marrying you,” you said, waving to Patricia and Melissa.

Lunch was a happy affair. You sat beside your husband, chatting eagerly with some of his cousins. His sisters sat with you, happily telling you stories about Javier that made him turn red and you bend over with laughter. Finally, once they’d had their fun embarrassing him, Cynthia, Maria, and Lori all left to go oversee some game the young cousins were playing. Melissa leaned over the table and grinned, Patricia already rolling her eyes.

“Javi,” she said sweetly, fluttering her eyes. “Have you taken Bella out yet?”

“Bella?” You asked, seeing Javier copy Patricia’s eye roll. “Who’s Bella?”

Melissa pointed to the stables that the ranch had. “Javi’s horse. She’s getting old, but she still runs.”

“She’s thirteen,” Javier said. “Not old.”

Patricia smiled. “Javi managed to get her off a man trying to sell her for meat,” she explained to you. “Right up until the day he left for Columbia, she was his pride and joy. Brought her back basically from the dead.”

You tried to imagine Javier caring deeply about a horse, deeply enough to save her. Unsurprisingly, the thought came easy. “Bella, it’s a beautiful name.”

“Short for Belladonna,” Javier said. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you.”

The ground was warm beneath your feet, still bare because you hadn’t had time to put shoes on before lunch. The Peña stables didn’t have many horses, maybe three or four. Right at the end was a stall painted with gorgeously intricate vines and flowers, the belladonna plant. Javier leaned over the door, whistling.

The effect was almost immediate. He was shoved from the door, a black horse pushing him out and butting against his body, searching him.

“Bella!” He said happily, scratching behind Bella’s swiveling ears. “Hello! Did you miss me?”

Bella snorted.

“I know, I missed you too,” Javier said, lost in his own little world. “Hey, guess what! I got married. Mhm, I think they’re perfect too.”

You smiled, leaning against the wall and watching Javier talk to Bella. “She’s gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” Javier said. “C’mon, I’ll take you on a ride.”

He introduced you to another horse, Bella’s neighbor Aristotle. Aristotle was well behaved, and within no time, you were sitting in the saddle and following Javier down a trail. Aristotle was an easy ride, and it helped that you had some prior riding knowledge. Javier, however, was leagues above you, riding as if he’d been doing it his whole life. Which you supposed he had.

“The ranch is huge,” Javier said, leading you through a section of forest. “But even if it wasn’t, we’re all good friends with the neighbors, and they don’t mind when we ride on their land.”

You left the forest and entered a large field that stretched on for miles, a wooden fence bisecting the field. “Is that where the neighbor’s property starts?” You asked, pulling Aristotle to a stop on the edge of the woods.

“That’s still ours,” Javier said. “Technically the neighbor’s land starts at the end of the field on the other side of the fence, but the fence was there when we bought the land and no one wants to take it down.”

You nodded. “How far is it back to the ranch?”

Javier looked at you, confused. “Twenty minutes at a steady trot, maybe thirty at a walk, why?”

Pushing Javier’s aviators up your nose and wiggling in the saddle, you grinned. “Over the fence, race you back!”

Just like that, you were off. Aristotle seemed just as joyful as you as you leapt the fence with ease, using what little riding knowledge you had. Javier caught on to your game and followed suit, laughing as Bella and Aristotle raced side by side.

The trail was likely too dangerous to keep this pace at, but if you weren’t mistaken, you could wind around the forest, staying at your pace. Abandoning Javier at the path, you cut a sharp turn, feeling the wind on your skin as you laughed.

True to your thoughts, within ten minutes, you were coming up on the ranch with no Javier in sight. Jumping the fence yet again into the riding ring, you pulled Aristotle to a stop, jumping down and stroking his nose.

Maria and Cynthia ran up to you as you straightened your shirt. “What happened?”

The sound of hooves alerted you to the return of your husband. “Javier and I went for a ride. I challenged him to a race home. He lost.”

Javier stopped Bella beside you, looking you up and down as he slid out of his saddle. “That was some damn impressive riding,” he said. “Congrats.”

You grinned. “C’mon, let’s put these two away and relax.”

Of course, in the Peña house, there was no such thing as relaxing. You and Javier were halfway to the porch when Javier was hit in the back with a water balloon. He turned, back dripping. Melissa and Patricia both pointed at each other, barely containing their laughter.

“Oh hell no!” Javier said, taking off his shoes and smiling. “Get back here!”

He chased after his sisters, both of which ran away, shrieking with laughter. You sat on the porch swing, watching Javier grab a water balloon and throw it. His aim was off, so instead of hitting Patricia, he hit Maria, who immediately joined the fight as well. Within minutes, all six Peña kids were throwing water balloons at each other and laughing. It was such an innocent sight, and it made you sigh. How long would you be in Columbia fighting the Cali Cartel? When would Javier get a chance to laugh like this again?

A shriek pulled you from your thoughts as Maria took control of a garden hose and began to aim it mostly at Javier, catching Lori and Cynthia in the process of soaking her brother. Javier ducked away from the hose spray, and Melissa snuck around Maria’s back and stood on the hose. It was a simple trick, but one Maria fell for, looking into the hose and immediately getting a face full of water.

“Niños!” Javier’s mother yelled, coming out of the house. “Que estás haciendo?”

“Jugando, Mamá!” Javier called, sitting up in the grass from where he’d been play wrestling with Cynthia, entirely soaked and decently muddy. “Melissa lo inició.”

“Did not!”

“Did to!”

“Niños!” Javier’s mother said again, trying to cut the childish bickering off. “Lavarse!”

“Si Mamá!” The chorus of six voices called back. Javier was up first, shaking like a wet dog and trotting over to the house, followed by his sisters.

Ten minutes later, a significantly cleaner Javier was sitting next to you, his hair still wet and in completely different clothes. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you said softly, watching the large extended family gather for dinner.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

Javier took your hands. “You only ever use that tone when something is really wrong. What is it?”

You shrugged. “Just wondering when we’ll be back here. Will it be years, like last time?”

“Not if I can help it,” Javier said softly. “Hey, look at me cariño. This won’t be like last time, okay? I swear it. We’ll be home soon.”

Nodding, you kissed Javier, running a finger over his ring. “I love you.”

Javier smiled, kissing your forehead. “I love you more.”

You leaned against him, taking in the setting sun and the bustling happiness of the yard. Someone started playing music, and you perked up. “Oh! I love this song!”

Javier tipped his head, trying to figure out what was playing. “I don’t know this.”

“It’s from the mid sixties,” you said, standing and tugging Javier to his feet. “Never charted, but my mother loved it.” You started to sway with the happy music, and Javier copied your movements. “Hey, hey, hey, lover, you don't have to be a star,” you sang, making Javier smile. “Hey, hey, hey, lover, I love you just the way you are.”

Javier moved his hands to your waist, and you put your forearms on his shoulders, still swaying and singing. “For love is just the same, without fortune and fame. Just give me true love and understanding. True love and understanding.”

The song kept playing, and you kept singing, dancing with Javier on the porch. About halfway through the song, someone interrupted you. “Hey, dorks!”

You jumped, almost knocking into Javier and hurting him. “Jesus! A warning next time!”

Maria grinned. “Mamá says it’s time to eat, and if you don’t come down, she’ll feed your portion to the dogs.”

Javier smiled. “Yeah, that sounds like Mamá. C’mon, let’s eat.”

You took Javier’s hand, following him off the porch, still singing lightly as the grass crunched under your feet and the warm Texas breeze rippled your clothes.

“Hey, lover, treat me good and nice, and it will be alright. Just give me true love and understanding. True love and understanding.”

[sokkascroptop]

traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 13

part 1 | part 12 | part 14

A/N: Here’s a cute little part. Occurs in ‘the headband’ episode, but doesn’t encompass the whole episode, just the important parts :)

Y/N sat there in silence after Aang told her what he had learned in just one day at a Fire Nation school. What did that mean for her education of five years at one? She tugged one of their blankets around her shoulders because even next to the fire she was shivering. She felt like she had been punched hard in the stomach and all the wind was knocked out of her. 

“I don’t know about this,” Aang whispered. “It feels wrong to steal someone else’s clothes.”

Katara and Y/N exchanged a look. “I call the silk robe!” Katara shouted as she jumped over the rocks they had hidden behind. 

“But I guess if it’s for the good of humanity… I call the suit!” Aang followed her. 

The rest of them joined and ran between the lines of clothes looking for anything that might fit. Y/N was reaching for a pair of pants when Katara stopped her. “Pick something else.”

“Why?”

“People are used to seeing you wear Fire Nation clothes. You’ll be more recognizable if you pick something you always wear.”

“Fine.” Y/N wrinkled her nose and pulled a deep red skirt from the clothesline. 

“This too.” She whipped a shirt at Y/N’s face. When she caught a look at it she shook her head wildly. “No way!” Y/N worked to keep her voice low so the man they were stealing from couldn’t hear her. “It’ll be hard enough to fight in a skirt, Katara. I’m not wearing it.”

---

Y/N poked at the bare skin of her midriff. “I mean seriously, Katara. I have to shrug this shirt on like it’s a robe and it ties in the back. If a bad guy gets ahold of that I’ll be half-naked.”

Katara pulled her hair out of its braids and hair loopies and didn’t spare a glance at the other girl. “You complain almost as much as Sokka.”

Y/N huffed and crossed her arms. “I don’t.” She unwound the leather tie around her braid and let her hair hang loose down her back, tying a similar top knot to Katara’s. “Let’s just go find the others.”

“How do we look?” Katara asked the other three. Y/N gave a very unenthusiastic twirl. Y/N turned back to notice how Aang’s eyes widened and he blushed as he looked at Katara. Y/N raised an eyebrow and glanced at Katara’s face, who was looking back at Aang with soft eyes. What is going on here? Y/N hummed in thought.

“You look like a girl,” Sokka said as his eyes bounced from Y/N’s skirt to her face. 

“Thank you for that astute observation. I am a girl,” Y/N replied drily. 

Sokka was blushing furiously. “No, I mean–”

“Oh, Katara. Your necklace,” Aang interrupted. 

Katara rubbed the carved bone. “I guess it’s pretty obviously from the Water Tribe.”

“Don’t worry,” she patted Katara’s shoulder. “We’ll get you something else in town so it doesn’t feel like you lost it.”

 ---

Y/N slid the new bracelet she had bought around her upper arm while she listened to Aang talk. All of them bought something to make their disguises more authentic, while also being able to feel more like themselves; a new Fire Nation necklace for Katara, a flame pin to hold together Sokka’s top knot, a headband for Toph and the bracelet to help hide the burn scar on Y/N’s bicep. 

“I used to visit my friend Kuzon here a hundred years ago. Just follow my lead.” Aang confidently turned the corner of the building they were behind and winked at a guy on the street. “Greetings, my good hotman!”

Toph pulled on Y/N’s elbow. “Is this really how they talk in the Fire Nation?”

“Uhh.. you know, I didn’t go into the city much but I’m almost one hundred percent positive that no they don’t,” Y/N whispered.

“Spirits, do not stop him. This is hilarious,” Toph laughed as Aang tipped his head to another man walking by, calling him ‘hotman’.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I wish you could see the looks people are giving him.” 

The five of them stopped in front of a restaurant. “Oh, I didn’t know we were going to a meat place,” Aang said a little dejectedly

“Everyone here eats meat!” Sokka exclaimed. “Even the meat!” He pointed over to a cow-hippo who was eating meat off the ground. Y/N’s stomach turned at the sight. Maybe she didn’t want to eat meat today either. 

---

Aang left, promising to meet them in the same spot outside after he found something vegetarian. Ten minutes had passed and there was still no sign of him. Katara was beginning to pace with worry. 

“He could have gotten lost looking for something to eat, right?” She asked the rest of them.

“We could go look around for him?” Y/N offered. When she noticed the hint of fear in Katara’s eyes, she added, “Nothing happened to him of course. He probably just got lost! Or he’s looking at some shop. How about you and Toph stay here, wait for him to see if he comes back. Sokka and I can wander the town looking for him.”

“We can?” Sokka asked. 

Y/N nudged his ribs. 

“We can,” he confirmed. He popped the last bit of his elk-caribou kebab in his mouth and threw the stick away. “Aang will come back and we’ll feel silly for being worried about him.”

“I hope you’re right, Sokka.” Katara said. 

---

“Ooh, let’s look in this shop,” Sokka marveled, pulling Y/N along with him. It was only a shop full of little trinkets and bags but everything Sokka saw excited him. 

“What do you think of this bag?” Sokka tossed the strap over his shoulder and posed. 

“You have an Earth Kingdom bag back at camp that looks the same,” she retorted.

Sokka rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but now that we’re here, I need a Fire Nation one.” 

Y/N shrugged and Sokka took that as her statement on what she thought of the bag. He placed it back on the table and picked up a ceramic box. “What about this box?” he asked.

She took it from his outstretched hands and inspected it. It was a black box with a golden Fire Nation flame on top. “What are you going to put in the box?” she asked as she handed it back to him.

“I–um, cool rocks that I find?”

Y/N hummed, amused. “And what are you going to do with the box full of cool rocks?”

“Put it in my bag,” Sokka muttered. “Fine! I won’t get it!” 

---

“You’re not very fun to shop with.” Sokka said when they left. 

Y/N looked up at the sun to check the time. “We’re supposed to be looking for Aang, not shopping.”

Sokka waved his hands. “Aang is fine. He’s the Avatar, he can take care of himself.” 

“I’m assuming by the way Katara reacted that he doesn’t necessarily go off by himself a lot.”

“Katara–” he paused to think of the right word, “–she mother-hens us.” He held up his hands defensively. “Not that I’m saying we don’t need it, because sometimes it’s nice, but she worries entirely too much.”

Y/N stopped a fruit stand and picked up a ripe peach. “I don’t know, it’s kind of nice.” She passed along a few coins to the merchant and handed a second one to Sokka. 

“How is it nice?” Sokka asked, then bit into the flesh of the peach.

“I don’t know. The way I grew up there was never anyone worried about when I would come home, you know? I just came and went as I pleased and then when I moved to the palace it was the same way.”

“You lived at the palace?” Sokka blurted out.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Y/N watched as Sokka cut the pit of the peach out with a small knife and tossed it into the road. He nodded at her to continue. “I moved to the capital to go to school and about a year after, I moved into the palace.” She bit into the peach and wiped the juice off her chin with the back of her hand. 

“Why though? Why not live with your parents?” He asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Do you always ask this many questions?”

“I’m just trying to figure you out,” Sokka stuttered. 

“Why?” Y/N giggled. She abruptly stopped when Sokka blushed and gave her a look she couldn’t decipher. 

“I just want to,” he finally said. “We don’t know anything about you.”

“Well, if you must know–it’s embarrassing–but my parents encouraged it actually. They were ecstatic that I was able to get close to the Royal Family and even though we weren’t nobility they had this absurd fantasy that I could marry Zuko.” Y/N covered her face in humiliation. 

Sokka shared a look of disgust. “Fire Prince Ponytail, huh?”

She smiled at the joke, but it faded quickly; the hurt of Zuko’s betrayal still heavy on her heart. “He wasn’t always like that.” Y/N ran quickly to his defense. “I knew him when he was still good.”

Sokka collapsed on the ground and leaned up against a wall. “So tell me about it.”

Y/N sat next to him and bumped his arm with her shoulder. “About what?”

“Your palace life, Princess.”

---

The sun was setting when her and Sokka headed back to the cave. The streets were lined with paper lanterns and Y/N could hear lively music being played somewhere. It was busier than it was during the heat of the day and Sokka and Y/N were frequently bumped into from all sides, right into one another. Finally, after losing him twice in the crowd she looped her arm through his. She felt him tense up under her touch, but immediately relaxed. 

“Oh, hey, what’s that?” She pointed off in the distance to a wooden board that looked like it had pictures posted all over it. She weaved them around the crowd to stand in front of it. It was a bulletin board full of advertisements, lost items, found items, and wanted posters. Her eyes ran across the assortment of them–The Blue Spirit, an Admiral named Jeong-Jeong–until her eyes landed on one in particular. 

“Yeah, they put these out when we first started traveling with Aang.” Sokka poked at a yellowing poster of Aang in his airbender clothes. “Luckily they won’t be hunting for him anymore.”

“Yeah. They aren’t hunting you,” Y/N pointed at the only poster that drew her attention. The one with a similar likeness to her face. “But I think they’re hunting me now.” 

Sokka peered around them to see if anyone was watching and ripped the poster down and shoved it in his pocket. “We need to tell the others.”

They only stopped running when they reached the mouth of the cave, the sun low in the sky. 

“Where were you two?!” Katara scolded. “We waited for you to come back but you never did!” 

“We looked around for Aang but–” Sokka started. He unfolded the poster from his pocket. 

“Well did you find him?” She asked.

Sokka and Y/N shared a look. “You mean you didn’t?” Y/N fretted. 

“No and Toph and I came back here when we couldn’t find anyone–”

The four of them jumped a noise outside. Y/N reached back instinctively to grab the hilt of her sword just when Aang strode in with Momo perched on his shoulder. His clothes were muddy and there was dirt on his face like he’d been chased through the woods but he was smiling. “Hey guys!” 

“Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick!” Katara raced to pull him into a hug. 

Aang sheepishly pulled off his headband. “I got invited to play with some kids after school.” 

Sokka’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “After what?!”

“I enrolled in a Fire Nation school and I’m going back tomorrow.” 

“Enrolled in what?!” Y/N thought Sokka was going to pass out. 

“Let’s just sit down and talk about it,” Y/N suggested. 

“I’m learning about all the propaganda they teach–”

Behind her, Y/N knew that Sokka was still talking, still flailing his arms around but she couldn’t hear the words he was saying because–

“Propaganda?”

Everyone froze, unsure of what to do next. Y/N could hear Toph behind her by the fire. “Oh no.”

“Um–”

Y/N wasn’t sure what to think. “No, don't even think about not telling me! What do you mean they teach propaganda at Fire Nation schools?”

---

Y/N sat there in silence after Aang told her what he had learned in just one day at a Fire Nation school. What did that mean for her education of five years at one? She tugged one of their blankets around her shoulders because even next to the fire she was shivering. She felt like she had been punched hard in the stomach and all the wind was knocked out of her. 

What did Sokka, Katara, Aang and Toph think of her as they realized that these were the things that she grew up learning? That she had foolishly believed that the Air Nomads–known pacifists–had created an army big enough to destroy the Fire Nation so they had to be taken out first. That the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes, after hearing of the destruction of all the Air Temples and supposedly the Avatar, had joined together and invaded the Fire Nation. That she had believed in and supported the idea that the Fire Nation was doing the right thing, that cleansing the world of troublemakers and creating obedience and peace in the villages was ‘the only way’. 

In the back of her mind, Y/N was trying to reason with herself, You knew the whole time. That’s why you left, that’s why you're trying to do good with the Avatar; to right the wrongs of your Nation. But it didn’t matter. She’d believed long enough for it to be harmful.

“Not to take away from the frankly alarming things we just learned but–” Sokka handed Aang the poster. “–we also found this when Y/N and I were in town.”

“What is it?” Toph asked. 

“It’s a wanted poster for Y/N,” Aang muttered. 

Katara jumped up to join him in reading it. Y/N didn’t need to see it again. She’d memorized it the first time she laid eyes on it. 

And suddenly, her day was ruined. She couldn’t remember the taste of the peach she had eaten that afternoon or the feeling of the sun on her face. She couldn’t remember what the music sounded like as her and Sokka wandered out of town or what it felt like to spill her life story to someone who wanted to listen. 

“Maybe I should go,” Y/N said numbly. 

“What?” Katara said looking up from the poster. 

“I’m putting you all in danger by being around you. Without me you’d be free to roam without the fear of being caught in the back of your minds all the time. It would be better for all of you like that!” Y/N was starting to get mad. Why couldn’t they see it? Why couldn’t they understand that this is the best option for everyone? That she was trying to save them?

“Why would you say something like that? How is that better?” Toph argued. 

“Because you don’t need me here anyways? How could you want me around after hearing what Aang learned at school. Mind you, up until ten minutes ago, I believed every one of those things to be true!” Y/N stood up and paced around the cave, no longer able to be sitting still. Their campfire threw wild shadows of her form on the walls. 

Y/N was beginning to feel like her outburst was due to more than just learning about Fire Nation propaganda but she couldn’t stop her mouth from moving. She stopped in front of them all for a second. “Tell me exactly what purpose do I serve on this mission?” 

She took their silence for an answer. “Exactly,” Y/N growled. 

Sokka stood up with her. “Not everything needs an exact purpose! You just fit with us!”

“But I don’t!” Y/N shouted. Her eyes and nose were stinging with unshed tears. Y/N rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands to keep the tears at bay for just a second longer. “I need a reason. I need a purpose. I have to have one! I don’t know how to describe this feeling. I’m just... lost. And–and I don’t even know how to explain it to you. How do I try and explain that my life has no meaning when I have no one to serve? I sit here with you guys and I’m wondering how you even wanted me to come when there was no reason for me to be here? I can’t even be your Fire Nation guide because I’ve never even seen most of the cities and apparently, I don’t even know my own history!”

Y/N looked at Katara. She blinked and twin tears traced down her cheeks. “I told you. I’m weak. I care about someone who wants me dead so badly she made me a wanted person. And all I want is to make her better so I can go home and I just can’t get past it all.”

Y/N put her head in her hands and sobbed. She felt two arms wrap around her waist and a head lay on her shoulder. Two more arms wrapped around the both of them. And pretty soon all five of them stood huddled in the cave in a group hug. 

Y/N sniffled. “Why are you all comforting me like you’re my friends?”

“You are our friend,” Katara murmured into Y/N’s shoulder. “Don’t you want to be friends with us?”

Y/N whimpered. “I really do. I guess I just needed to hear you say it.”

“If it makes you feel better. I have no problem bossing you around.” Toph’s voice was muffled from the pile they were in. 

Y/N smiled through her tears. “Thanks, Toph.”

---

A/N: listen, I don’t care if I made you cry, because I cried while writing that scene more than once and that’s all that matters. 

Taglist: @myexgirlfriendisthemoon​ @reclusive-chicken-nugget​ @astroninaaa​ @aangsupremacy​ @beifongsss​ @crownofcryptids @welovediaaxx​ @littlefluu​ @lozzybowe​ @thebluelcdy​ @ohjustlookalive @sugarmoongey​ @fanficdepot​ @teenbiology​ @13-09-01​ @riespage​ @davnwillcome​ @naanlianid​ @creation-magician​ @lunariasilver​ @vintagerose1014516 @bcifcng​ @rockinearthbending-marauders​ @francesciak​ @thia-aep​ @aphrcditeee​ @milk-n-cheese​ @solarsuki​ @sendnuwudes @humbleseame​ @my--shitty--art​ @lovingcupcake51002​ @loganrwebb​ @celia-not-cecilia​ @treestarrrrrrrr​ @p--e--a--c--h--e--s​@velveteencurls @izzieserra​ @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak​

[thenocturnalmushroom]

A Cozy Night - Touyuki - CCS

Tags: Fluff; Domestic; Domestic Fluff; Self-Indulgent; Established Relationship

Read on AO3

It was almost eleven at night and Yukito still having no desire to go to sleep. He was comfortably sitting under his kotatsu, accompanied by a good show on his laptop, a tin of cookies and some delicious hot tea – a perfect combo to a winter night. His plan was to finish watching the said show that same night, even if he had to stay up until dawn; it was a Friday night and he had no class nor job the next morning so he had no worries regarded his bedtime. Besides, the show was worth the loss of some sleep hours.

The silver-haired boy was completely immersed into the story, anxiously nibbling at a sugar cookie and barely noticing how his body was slowly leaning toward the laptop while his almost unblinking eyes refused to go away from the screen. The first real confront of the main character and the true villain was finally happening, and it was intense. Yukito had been waiting for it for the last seven episodes and he didn’t want to miss even the smallest detail; he was sure that everything about that scene would be important later in the story. His focus was completely stolen by the show and everything else was forgotten for some long, long minutes.

And that was why the boy nearly jumped out of his skin when the bell of his house rang, letting the half-eaten cookie slip from between his fingers.

It took him only a second to recover from the startle. He quickly paused the video and retrieved the cookie from the table, throwing it into his mouth, before heading to the front door, still chewing on the sweet. Being a little past eleven now, Yukito could only think about one single person who would come to visit him this late at night - and it made his heart singing inside his chest.

He hurried to open the door, and there was no surprise when he found Touya waiting outside, his hands shoved into the pockets of his heavy coat and a soft smile touching his lips.

“Hey!”, his boyfriend greeted him so casually, as if he wasn’t clearly freezing in that cold night.

“Touya!”, Yukito exclaimed his name for both the pleasure of saying it and as slight scold. He gave a step aside. “Hurry inside or you’ll end up getting sick!”

Touya wasted no time and complied. While Yukito closed and locked the door again, Touya carefully landed his backpack on the floor right before taking off his shoes, placing them besides his boyfriend’s ones.

“What are you doing here?”, the silver-haired boy asked while helping the other to take out his coat, which was slightly wet from the light snow that was falling outside. “I thought your shift at the restaurant would only end around midnight.”

“Things were too slow today, so my boss decided to close earlier.”, Touya casually passed his hands through his damped hair, shaking it softly. He had strongly regraded not having brought with him an umbrella or at least a bonnet.

Yukito quickly run to the cupboard to fetch a towel for him.

“If you have some spare time, you should have gone home and rested. You’ve been working harder than the usual this week.”, he said, handing the towel to Touya. It wasn't like he wasn't happy to see the other boy. Not at all. The week had been so busy that they had barely had time to meet outside the few classes they share together. However, Yukito couldn’t help but worry about Touya and his health; he would gladly sacrifice some of their time together if that meant that Touya was getting a proper time to rest, recovering all the energy he had spent between classes and all his numerous part-time jobs. He knew his boyfriend was strong, but he was still human.

“I think I can rest here pretty well, can’t I?”, Touya put the towel round his neck and gave a step forward to close even more the already short distance between them. Gently, he touched Yukito’s face, a cold hand on a warm skin, giving to both of them a pleasant shiver. Looking unbothered by the coolness of his boyfriend’s hand, Yukito covered it with his own hand, rubbing his cheek against Touya’s palm as if to lend it some warmth in a tender, affectionate gesture. As tender and affectionate as the smile they both wore on his lips. “Besides, I am home.”

Yukito’s eyes widened for a moment, his face feeling suddenly hot; he wasn’t waiting for a response like that. He felt a bubbling sensation being born inside his stomach and rise through his throat, taking the shape of a soft, cheerful giggle. “Tou-ya, you’re such a sappy!”

“Who are you calling sappy?”, Touya frowned, using the hand he was resting on the other boy’s face to pinch his cheek lightly. He looked annoyed, but Yukito knew it was only a facade; he could see all the softness around his boyfriend’s dark eyes, at the tips of his thin lips, almost imperceptibly turned upwards. And it only made him laugh even more.

Seeing Yukito like this made Touya’s frown melted into the fondest of the smiles. The urge of kissing the silver-haired boy he always feels whenever he sees his face – or thinks about him – only intensified at the that moment and Touya decided to just go for it. He leaned forward, now with both of his hand gingerly cupping Yukito’s face, bringing him closer and closer and closer, so ready to taste his lips once again, always so soft and sweet.

But the kiss never came.

“No! No! No! Rest first, kisses second!”, Yukito declared and ,with an unexpected quick movement, he turned his boyfriend around before putting his hand on his back to gently lead him to the living room.

“Yuki, what the…”

“You go rest and I’ll make some sandwiches and pour some tea for us. You can kiss me as much as you want later.”

“Fine.”, Touya agreed in defeat. It wasn’t exactly what he had planned, but it sounded good enough for him.

--

Touya took a place at the kotatsu, finishing drying his hair while listening Yukito in the kitchen preparing their snacks. He thought about offering some help to his boyfriend, but he quickly dismissed the idea; Yukito had insisted so much to him to take a rest that the boy would, for sure, kicked him out of the kitchen in no time. Without much to do, he stared at the laptop over the table, finding a paused image of what looked like an intense fight scene on its screen, and started trying to guess what this show was about.

It didn’t take much time for Touya to start feeling bored. He started darting looks at the open door, as if doing so Yukito would hurry up and come back to keep him company. He had been craving his boyfriend presence during that entire hectic week; they had had so little time to spend together these past days and Touya was eager to compensate for the lost time, for all the hugs and kisses and smiles they wasn’t able to share throughout the week.

A few more minutes had passed and Touya decided that being scolded and kicked out of the kitchen by Yukito would worth it.

However, none of it came to him.

“Ah, Toya! Great timing!”, exclaimed Yukito, his hands holding a tray piled up with half dozen  sandwiches. Resting over the sink top, another tray was waiting to be picked up, this one carrying two mugs and a steaming teapot. The sweet essence of the tea was hanging on the air, hitting Toya’s noise with the fresh smell of peaches and mint. “Can you pick the other tray, please?”

Carrying a tray each, Touya and Yukito came back to the living room and, without any waste of time, they set the table for their almost-midnight snack, sitting shoulder to shoulder under the heat of the kotatsu. Touya asked about the movie on the laptop screen and Yukito gladly talked all about it while they were eating, making sure to avoid any greater spoilers.

“That show sounds pretty cool.”, Touya said, between a bite and another. If he were being honest, he wasn’t sure if the plot of the show actually sounded that great or if it was Yukito’s enthusiasm about it that picked up his interest on it.

“If you want to, we can watch it together! I wouldn’t mind rewatching the previous episodes with you.”, his smile was so warm, so cozy when he made the offer that Touya found himself completely unable to answer anything but yes.

“Sure! Do you wanna start right now?” and the silver-haired boy didn’t need any other word to draw his laptop closer and click back on the very first episode of the series.

Rewatching the show was still pretty fun, but having Touya by his side was the best part of it. And it wasn’t only because now he had someone to share his thoughts about it. Having Touya’s arm around him, involving his body with his warmth, his scent, his strong but gentle presence, filled Yukito’s heart with the coziest of the feelings.

He felt whole. He felt safe.

He felt at home.

The same could be told about Touya. The boy could feel all the tiredness of the week melting away, leaving his shoulders lighter and his chest full of warmness and the sweetest peace. He nestled his boyfriend comfortably into his arms and rested his cheek on the top of his head, breathing slowly, absorbing Yukito’s presence and letting it impregnate his lungs, his heart, his whole being.

It was like magic; something fantastic and hard to describe, but so easy to feel – to get immerse in.

Yukito was his safe place and Touya always does his best to be the same to Yukito.

In their small, quiet world, Touya could finally feel truly relaxed, leaving all the stress and exhaustion from that long, long week behind and embrace the serenity of the moment. He allowed his body to go limp and his eyelids to get heavier and heavier, giving in to a sweet sleepiness state.

“I think we should go sleep.”, Yukito suggested, a hint of laughter in his voice. “We can watch the rest of the show tomorrow.”

Touya yawned. “Good idea.”

The taller boyfriend unwrapped his arms from around the other to stretch his body a bit, letting the silver-haired boy free to lean toward and close his laptop. But, before he could do anything else, such as get up and start cleaning up the table, Touya enlaced his waist once again, keeping him close to himself.

“Hey, don’t think I forgot about the kisses you’ve promised me!”, Touya smiled and cupped Yukito’s face with one of his hands, his thumb tenderly stroking his boyfriend’s cheek.

Yukito’s eyes lighted up like a moon finally appearing from behind a thick layer of clouds; so bright, so beautiful, so powerful against the darkness. Toya nearly lost his breath when he smiled back at him, the same smile that made him fall in love so many years ago. Sweet and vibrant. So sincere and genuine, coming from his core and growing until it blossom into his lips.

Those warm, soft lips that Touya was dying to kiss. So, that was what he did it.

Toya leaned forward and kissed Yukito exactly the way he was waiting for the whole day: slowly and affectionate, enjoying every single second of it. There was no hurry; they had all the time in the world - their private world. They could just allowed themselves to get lost in each other’s touch, to dive in each other’s warmth, in the sweetness of the other’s mouth. To Yukito, Touya’s lips had always tasted like peaches, but, somehow, they tasted especially sweet that night; he wondered if the tea they had had earlier would have something to do with that. Coincidentally, Touya found Yukito’s lips softer than ever, more tempting than ever.

“Satisfied?”, Yukito asked with a soft giggle when their lips parted. Even with their mouths parted, they kept their faces close, forehead to forehead, the tip of their noses softly brushing to the other in a loving gesture, while their bodies followed the example and still tangled in an embrace so tight that one could feel the other’s heart beating fast against their own.

“Not quite. I could have a dozen more of it, but I’m so tired right now that I think I’ll save them for tomorrow.”, as to emphasize his words, Touya closed his eyes and let his head slowly slip until it found the curve of Yukito’s neck, resting there with a content sigh. He could feel his boyfriend’s body shaking in a quiet laughter.

Yukito landed a gentle kiss on the top of Touya’s head, whispering against his dark strands: “They will be waiting for you in the morning.”

Hearing those words, Touya smiled and released the weight of his tired body over Yukito’s. Caught by surprise, the silver-haired boy’s body easily gave in with the sudden extra weight and lay down on his back with his boyfriend on his top, making both boys laugh.

Touya rested his head on Yukito’s chest and hugged his wait, while Yukito wrapped his arms around his shoulder, using one of his hands to stroke Touya’s hair in the most tender way, giving his boyfriend some pleasant goosebumps.

“We should go to bed, you know? Or we’re gonna catch a cold.”, Yukito said, but made no effort to get up or made his boyfriend to do so.

“We’ll be fine. We have the kotatsu and each other to keep ourselves warm the whole night.”, Touya’s voice was heavy with sleep, getting lower and lower with every word he said. Yukito only answer was a soft giggle and another kiss on his head.

They both felt so comfortable, so in peace resting in each other’s arms. They let the pounding of the other’s heart be their lullaby, leading them to a sweet slumber.

“Tou-ya~!”, Yukito called him with what was left of his consciousness.

“Hm?”

“Love you.”

Touya smiled to himself. “I love you, too.”

[jeromesxreader16]

Such a Joker (53)

Part 52 Here!

~o0o~

I pack two sandwiches in my purse and proceed to cover my hair with the large silk scarf. "Where are you sneaking off to?" Babs asks walking past me and downing a drink. "Secret date? I figured you would get sick of the pale faced clown." I smile at my hands. I could never tire of my boy. I'm as crazy as him, maybe more, but he would never turn me away, and I could never leave him.

"I'm married." "Even better." I narrow my eyes at her. "Babs, I'm going to see my dad." She widens her eyes. "Now you're asking for a death wish." I walk out the door, my heels clicking every step. "If you say so."

I walk into the GCPD and can sense the chaos and tension thickly canned in the air. Not seconds later two individuals start brawling over bread. "Hey! Break it up!" My father pushes them back. "For all the new people here... everyone is welcome in Haven, but there are rules. And one of them is we leave the fighting outside. Government already thinks we don't deserve help. We have to show otherwise. Gangs want to tear themselves apart outside, that's their business. In here, in Haven... we help each other survive."  I hum with a slick smile as the two dispute the issue and the tension falls. Saved for another day.

I walk up to him nudging his arm. "Nice speech. I think it worked." He turns to me and gasps, but recovers quickly. "(Y/n). You're so big. No... Just-" "Pregnant, dad." He nods smiling. "So what happens when they find out the government abandoned them?" He sighs, shaking his head. I pat his back. "Come on paper man. You need some real food." I pull him into his office and remove the disguise. "Italian sub for you, and tuna for me." "You hate tuna." I smile sitting down. "They don't." I pat my swollen tummy. "So there are two of them?" I nod smiling.

"And you're happy? He treats you well?" I nod again smiling at him. "Of course he does. He's not a monster, dad." He grabs my hand over the desk and squeezes it. "I don't... like him. You know this. He destroyed the damn city for christ's sake, but he is the father of my grandchildren, and the husband of my only daughter, so I can promise you... I will never kill him." I kiss his hand and smile. "Who knew that'd be so comforting to hear."

~

I walk into the elevator with the smile ghosted over my lips. Crackling from the speaker erupts my mind causing me to shake and grab the wall in fright. "Aw, honey, I'm sorry." Ecco's voice pipes up from the speaker. I wave my hand in front of the camera with a smile. "No worries. All good here." I laugh placing a hand on my stomach. "Where is Jerimiah?" "Working down below. Would you like me to get him?" I smile up at the camera. "Let me go down."

"Uh... Miss, I think we should wait. He doesn't want you around the-" I press the button to the bottom floor faster than light. "Oops," I smirk up to Ecco as the elevator skips the main floor and descends below.

The two doors slide open revealing a steamed room with the funk of hard labor. I step on the uneven ground and see Jerimiah fanning himself as he watches his workers. I rest my hands on his shoulders and kiss his cheek. "You're working hard." He spins around with a glare. "And you're not supposed to be here." He grips my hips pulling me towards him.

"I missed you." I nuzzle into his chest. He hums as we rock back and forth. "I missed you, my love. Come on. No lady should be exposed to this heat." He places his hand on the small of my back leading me to the elevator.

Holding me the entire way up and then carrying me to our bed, never letting us go. "Are my darlings all suggled up?" He asks resting my head on his chest. The icy colored flesh proving wrong to the touch of fire on my fingers. "Yes, Jer." I mumble feeling my eyes draw to a close. "Never will I go a day without my family... even your father." He kisses my head before I can ask the question.

~

Jeremiah POV:

My workers work endlessly day and night to break the walls of the under the earth. Slowing down each day, getting on my nerves in the end. You're pushing my men way too hard. "We're not gonna break through for at least a couple more days. There is absolutely no way to make it on schedule." The leader of the pack of sweat cogs comes in.

My wife doesn't need to be kept in this filth any longer. How dare he disrespect my future.  "Well, not with that attitude, you're not." I slice the man's throat, as he falls to the ground, blood flowing on the dirt.

"Now... everyone... let's reach inside and dig... a little deeper, shall we? 'Cause that's the only way you're all making it out of this hole." I hum watching their fear thicken.

Two taps on my shoulder break my gaze from the project. "Oh, Echo. Are these all the recruits?" Skinny, no brains, slim Whitted. These are my soldiers?

"Well, I thought you would want quality over quantity. Not everybody can pass a .38 caliber test of faith." I smirk thinking of the trials and tests they've suffered.  "Yes... you certainly have set a very high bar for devotion."

"Oh. Almost forgot. Bruce Wayne and his sidekick Curls... Or is he the sidekick? Anyway, they tried to infiltrate our little operation here."

"Oh?" " Oh. And Curls can walk, really well, especially... for a paraplegic. Ah. And she wants to kill you." I glare at her with a snarl. This doesn't help that my wife is being cared for in the same building.

"A lot, FYI. If I see her, I'll give you a shout. Oh... and kill her." I nod rolling my eyes. Finish the job and move on for the better of my wife and children.

~

I walk into the GCPD questioning room with my scarf wrapped around my head, and my belly protruding out. Quite the look I must say. I open the door to see Victor Zsasz pushed on to the table by Harvey.

"Ow. This is a really nice table." I snicker and take my glasses off. "You do realize her thrives on the pain." The three pairs of eyes look at me.  "We got a dozen witnesses that saw you walk out of that building before it went kabooey."

"Yeah. I heard some gangs had taken over." Zsasz says turning his eyes to me.  "Figured, with you guys occupied, I might help myself to some of your supplies. Hey, do you guys have any canned peaches? Man, I'd trade an arm and a leg for that right now. Not mine, somebody else's. Maybe little baby Maniax's." He laughs reaching for my stomach before Jim swats his arm down.

"If you're innocent, why shoot up a city block full of cops?"

"Because it was full of cops." Zsasz and I say at the same time.

"Who were also trying to shoot me. And, guys, those were warning shots. I mean, if I really

wanted to kill you... you'd be dead. You got a pen? I want to write this guy a thank-you letter. Do the math. If I blew up a building full of people, I would have covered

every inch of my body in sweet, sweet scars. Mrs. Valeska...  want to do a strip search?" He winks before my father punches him. "She's married, pig."

I lock arms with my dad and walk through the station. "Got Lucius on the horn for you, Cap."

"Lucius, talk to me." I grab the phone holding it close enough for the both of us to hear. "Haven wasn't destroyed by a bomb. It was an RPG, like the one that took down the chopper."

"You sure?"

I'm holding what's left of it in my hand right now. We found pieces of it in the rubble. It was fired through the basement window, detonated the fuel oil tank. And we're still trying to figure out exactly which rooftop it was fired from.

"Rooftop?"

"Yes."

"Dad, the only angle you could hit this place from is above. Zsasz was on the ground. Looks like you need a new suspect. I think we need to-"

"Jim! Ah. I know the wheels of justice turn slowly, so I'm here to provide- a modicum of grease."

Rushing up towards the front, Oswald, the Mayor of fallen Gotham, stands tall and proud.

"You need to leave right now."

"Still claiming he's innocent, is he?"

"Yes. And as much as I hate to admit it, the evidence is backing him up."

Harvey busts out, "What the hell's going on?" "Harvey, according to Lucius, Zsasz couldn't have done it."

Oswald huffs with a smile. "I did not expect you to go soft, Jim. Actually, I did. Behind a grandpa and all must've changed your ways. Which is why I didn't come alone." Several gunmen come out armed and ready to fire. My father huddles me close and shields me from the view of guns.

"Bring me Victor Zsasz!"

"Leave, (Y/n). Go home!" Jim pushes me away towards the doors.

~

Jeremiah POV:

I wave my hat fanning my pale skin placed upon the crippling bones. It's so damp and hot in here, but I'm freezing. My heart has gone cold without her scent around. Not a touch, not a wiff, not a glace for days it seems. Where is my angel with my bundles of joy?

"You see, a river cuts through rock not because of its power, but because of its persistence. So what do we do when we feel like giving up? Dig a little deeper. And what do we do when we can't possibly go on any longer? Dig a little deeper. And what do we..." A sharp blade stabs into my side crippling my speech. I look down seeing the masked figure in the striped coat. I gasp feeling my footing slide as the attacker shoves the blade into my stomach further.

"Deep enough?" The individual removes the mask revealing the little pussy of them all. "Well, Selina, I must say..." She pulls the blade out plunging it back in sharply.

"Don't say anything." Over and over again the blade is shoved into my side. The light dimming, the hot steam hitting my brow, the devilish laughter of my brother. This is near my end? Maybe so...

"Selina!" The rat is stripped away from me causing me to fall to the ground barely clinging to the life of happiness I have.

"Selina!" Bruce Wayne holds the fierce kitty back. "Stop. It's done! It's over."

~

The building is quiet. The entire place is quiet... Not one swing of an ax hitting limestone, making a light clink sound. Not the ring of my husbands voice calling to his men. Not even Echo meeting me at the door with my slippers and milkshake. Something is not right.

"Jeremiah?" I call out as if he could hear me from below. If not him then someone. One of the members at least, but no one came. I proceeded to enter the elevator only to see blood on the buttons and floor. They were having the graduation today, not everyone makes it.

The doors  open to the pool room and I could almost drop to my knees at the smell. Thick scent of blood coating the walls. I walk out of the elevator and down into the pool counting the dead. No Echo or Jeremiah. Good so far.

I make my way down to the tunnels where silence has taken over. Just a simple lone man sitting in a chair. "Where is Jermiah?" I panic pulling my jacket closer. Could he have left me?

"Mrs. Valaska!" "Where is my husband?" "He's off in the tunnels. He's got injured. I'm supposed to take you to him." "Well, go on!" He shuffles his feet in a pace of nervousness, tripping over rocks and pickaxes. "How did he get hurt?" "Someone came in and just stabbed the boss. She was taken away by Bruce Wayne." I feel fire ignite in my blood. Selina and Bruce. What a treat. Trying to kill my husband in my own home.

Down the tunnels I hear him. Groaning in pain as Echo stitches him up. "How could you let this happen?" I shout at her. "She was fast." "And you're supposed to be faster." I glare at her as she cowers at my words.

"Don't stress, darling. It's not good for the babies."

"Jeremiah." I kneel down next to him grabbing his face. "Are you alright?" He places his hands over mine, kissing them each. "I'm still alive. One thing I've still got on my brother. How are you, my love? I'm sorry. You must've been wrecked with worry." Jeremiah pulls me into his lap. I nod with my bottom lip out. "Yes, I was. I was so scared, Jer." He pulls me to him. "Aw my darling. I know. I know."

I shift my weight slightly causing him to jet in a sharp inhale. "Oh, honey. Stitches still sore?" He nods. "Never would have happened if you wore that armor I prepared." Echo hums, causing me to roll my eyes. "That bullet makes you sentimental of the wrong things." I huff out pushing her out of the view.

"Why would you not check who was working? You always do. You're always prepared." Jeremiah places his hand on my cheek again. "I had to let Selina thrust the knife into my flesh at least once. Verisimilitude trumps precaution, you see." "They think you're dead." I think putting everything together.

Echo stands to the side bouncing with information. "What is it?" She giggles jumping on her heels. "All systems go." Jeremiah lifts himself, placing a hand on the small of my back and leading us along behind Echo.

"You could've died." I whisper looking at the dirt. "I didn't." "But you could have, Jeremiah. That's my point. You have two children growing, and soon they'll be out in this world. They need their father. You've kept me safely away, but that won't mean shit if you're not around to protect your children." I move ahead of him in a fit of fire.

A hand grabs my shoulder spinning me around. Jerehimah dips me and pushes our lips together. His grip on my arm and hip so tight, keeping me pulled to him with no fight. He pulls away only an inch, looking at my eyes, looking into the soul. "Now, you may not understand everything I do, but I do it for you and these two kids. I think and I plan for hours. You sit up in the bed resting your feet like I tell you. When you start questioning if I'm going to make it, that's when this will fall apart. You're my darling. You've been mine for thousands of years. Never doubt me, (Y/n)." He places his hands on my stomach and pecks my forehead. "Come along now. We have things to do."

Leading me through the tunnels I start to see less of the dirt and more solid grey rock already formed into tunnels. "Where are we?" Jeremiah giggles pulling me alongside.

"Doctor. I'm hearing good things." Jeremiah says holding in laughter.

What is he up to?

The Doctor nods. "The bandages are ready to come off. Your assistant thought you'd like to see the results." Echo shakes her head in praise like a dog while Jer nods his head. "Indeed, I would."

He turns to me. "You won't want to miss this, (y/n)."

The Doctor unravels the bandages on the individuals faces revealing a profile built from professional lifestyle and diets. This is Thomas and Martha Wayne before my eyes... ALIVE!

"Oh, you two look beautiful." I smile looking down at her pearl necklace. "Down to the very detail with you." Jeremiah kisses my cheek. "I love family reunions, don't you?" "More than Christmas!" I cheer and giggle.

[curious-shadow-cat]

GHOSTS PG1

It was raining outside. Princess Peach was sitting in her chair in front of a fireplace while drinking tea and eating cookies shaped like stars. She was reading a book about romance and adventure. She sighed dreamily and thought about the days where she used to have all the time in the world to go on adventures with Princess Daisy when they were younger. They were like sisters, Daisy seems busy now a days. But so is she. She frowned at the thought of not having much time to have fun with Daisy or the Mario brothers. What was Daisy so busy with? For Peach, it was Bowser and a few other creatures causing so much trouble in the Kingdom. She's asked if Daisy had any problems like this in her Kingdom but she always tells her not to worry about it. 

Same for poor Luigi. He's told her that she see's him more as a friend. It's kind of a surprise to Peach since Daisy seemed to like him so much, but also she could understand why she left him. Not that he was bad or anything, he's great to her but he didn't exactly seem like her type. He's afraid of everything while Daisy wouldn't hesitate to go on a dangerous adventure if she was given the chance to. Peach knows about Luigi going on some dangerous adventures like fighting King Boo but he only does it when he has to save his friends or his brother Mario. She took another cookie off the plate and started eating it. Peach hoped that wouldn't happen to her and Mario. She loves spending time with him. She hoped one day she could get him and Bowser to stop fighting so much then maybe they'd have more time to spend with each other and have fun. Luigi can be there as well. She tapped her chin with the cookie as she pondered what she could do to have them spend time together. She's tried calling Daisy and see if she could get her to come over for games, she mostly comes around for tennis and other sports most of the time. Maybe she's going on her own dangerous adventures. Peach leaned back further in her chair and closed the book. If that was true, then lucky her. She must be having fun. She couldn't help but wonder why she never--She shook her head. Now hold on, she thought to herself, she's not sure whether or not that's true. She's probably just busy taking care of the kingdom. Why wouldn't she tell her all about her adventures if that was true? She used to always tell her amazing stories when she was off on her own. Peach put her book down next to the plate of cookies beside her and stood up. Perhaps tomorrow she could call the brothers and Daisy over to have fun. That would be--

The door flew open. "Princess! Princess Peach!" Toadsworth rushed in with a panicked look on his face. He stopped and tried to catch his breath.

Peach:"Toadsworth? What's wrong? What happened?" She rushed over to see if he was alright.

Toadsworth:"Mario, Luigi and King Boo are here!"

Peach:"W...what??" She took a step back. Why was he here? Especially now of all days. She was a little mad but more concerned about the brothers. Were they alright? Did he do something to them?? She rushed out into the hallway and made her way towards the entrance. Toadsworth called out to her but she didn't listen. She had to make sure they were alright. When she finally made it, she couldn't believe what she saw; Luigi looked hurt. Bad. Mario didn't seem too hurt, he was helping his brother carry King Boo on his back. Something was different about him. He looked...smaller. For a moment she thought he was close to death. But he was already a ghost, so that couldn't be possible....could it? She snapped out of her thoughts and rushed over to them. Luigi looked up at her.

Luigi:"Hi Princess...I know this looks bad but--"

Peach:"Here, let me help you." She said quickly. She took his crown off his head. When she did, that uneasy feeling in the air was gone and he looked less threatening. His eyes were no longer dark and he moved slightly. He was still weak and couldn't move on his own. She helped the brothers carry him to the guest room. He was laying in bed, the lights were off except the lamp next to him. It wasn't too bright. He moaned in pain and barely stayed awake. She turned to the brothers."What happened to you three?" She asked calmly. Luigi was sitting in a wooden chair next to the bed while Mario stood by Peach. Luigi spoke up first.

Luigi:"It's a long story. One I'm not sure how to explain..." He took his hat off and itched his head. They were soaking wet so Peach had the toads bring them towels and new clothes. Mario had a towel wrapped around his head to dry his hair.

Mario:"I'm just glad I was able to find you two in time." He looked at Peach."Sorry to bother ya so late, Princess. We didn't know where else to go." She shook her head.

Peach:"No, no, that's alright." She looked at Boo. He was shaking. She couldn't help but place her hand gently on his head. Mario gave her a warm smile. Sweet as a Peach, he thought. She's so caring to everyone it makes him love her even more. Peach gently took Boo's hand in hers and held it for a moment. "Boo? Can you hear me? You're safe now. It's just me...Peachy." He gently squeezed her hand. Luigi kept his eyes on him making sure he didn't try any tricks. She looked at Luigi."Can you tell me how he got hurt?" She asked in an almost serious tone."Any of you?" Almost as if she was a little mad. Luigi leaned back in the wooden chair.

Luigi:"Well, where do I start?" He itched his chin."I remember going in the forest, King Boo was there, we fought for a little bit until he got caught in someone's trap. I think that trap was meant for ghosts but I don't know who built the thing! There was another one that nearly took me out but luckily Mario was close by and saved us both!" Mario looked proud of himself.

Mario:"I was on my way to get some pizza for dinner when I heard these two screaming in the forest. I thought at first Boo here finally took him down until saw that they were both caught in the traps. I insisted we left Boo there but Luigi felt bad for him."

Luigi:"We could also see if he knows anything about these darn traps. They're too dangerous to leave carelessly around the place! I could've died!" Mario took the towel off his head.

Mario:"They were pretty close to your kingdom, Peach. Do you know who's been laying out these traps?" He asked with a worried look on his face. She shook her head.

Peach:"I had no idea about this. We need to find out whoever's been making such horrible traps and have them get rid of them at once before someone else get's hurt!" She looked at King Boo who was holding her hand to his head. He seemed to be half sleeping. She didn't want to push but she had to know if he knew anything about these traps. She looked back at the brothers and noticed they looked tired and hungry. She gently pulled her hand out of Boo's and walked past them."Why don't we get you three something to eat. I'm sure you're all very hungry." Mario licked his lips.

Mario:"You just made my night, Princess!" He smiled brightly. Luigi smiled a little.

Luigi:"Thank you very much, that would be nice." He glanced at King Boo who didn't move much. Mario followed Peach out the door. She looked back.

Peach:"Are you coming?" She asked.

Luigi:"Hm? Oh, um...sure." He took one last look at King Boo. He didn't move much still but at least he wasn't shaking so much anymore. He closed the door behind him. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea leaving Boo alone.

"Bark! Bark!" He jumped and yelped a little. He spun around and saw his good ol' pal Polterpup wagging his tail and panting. He smiled and gave him a hug.

Luigi:"Hey buddy! Boy, am I glad to see you." He itched the ghostly dog's head and he kicked his leg happily. He ran in a circle excitedly before sitting down in front of him."Listen, I need you to do me a big favor okay?" The dog cocked his head to the side."Can you stay with King Boo? I don't think he should be left alone in there." He leaned close and whispered."Just in case, you know, he's up to no good." The dog licked his face and he quickly stood up straight wiping the drool off his face. He chuckled and pat his head."Good boy, I'll bring you both dinner." The dog ran in a circle around Luigi happily before running through the door into the guest room. Luigi felt a little more at ease now and walked down the stairs to join Mario and Peach.

Mario and Peach spoke for a little while. Luigi spoke to some of the Toads for a little bit before they rushed off to hear what Mario and Peach were talking about. Luigi smiled at them. They looked like they were having fun. He frowned when Toadsworth rushed towards Princess Peach. He was saying something but Luigi couldn't hear him from where he was sitting. Peach sighed. She looked at Mario and frowned. He frowned and they looked at Luigi. He stood up and quickly made his way to them.

Luigi:"Something happen?" He asked with a worried look on his face.

Peach:"Well....it seems like Bowser wants to have a little talk with us..." She looked at Mario. He itched his head.

Mario:"....Right. Um, we need you to stay here and keep an eye on that ghost while we're gone...can you do that on your own, bro?" He swallowed.

Luigi:"Uhh...alright! Yeah! No problem...." He said with a smile but it went away when he looked down at his feet. He didn't want to stay by himself while they were out to meet Bowser. He really wanted to help them instead in case he tried anything. Peach gently touched his shoulder and he snapped out of his thoughts. He looked her in the eyes.

Peach:"Don't worry Luigi, if he gives you any trouble, you can borrow my vacuum, it's just as powerful as the one Professor E. Gadd uses." She said half jokingly. He chuckled and grinned at her.

Luigi:"I'll be fine. Really!" He said with a grin. She smiled brightly.

Peach:"We know you will. We believe in you." Mario smiled.

Mario:"Yeah! You can take care of that ghost no problem if he gives you any trouble!" He gently punched his brothers arm.

Luigi:"Haha, yeah I can." He picked up two plates, one with cake and cookies, and the other steak."You two becareful, alright? If you need me--"

Mario:"We'll be fine, don't worry about it!" He waved.

Peach:"I'll make sure Mario doesn't get hurt, Luigi." She winked. Mario laughed and held her hand as they walked out the door with Toadsworth. Luigi was left alone. He took in a deep breath and sighed.

Luigi:"Right then..."

Luigi walked up the stairs towards the guest room."Little buddy hasn't showed up yet, so I guess he's fine? I hope." He spoke quietly to himself. "I really hope I didn't make the wrong choice in bringing him here..." He swallowed. He made it to the door and gently knocked.

Luigi:"King Boo? You awake? Don't kill me or nothin' I...I uh, brought you dinner. Peach made it." He opened the door slowly and looked around the dark room. Everything was quiet. He looked towards the bed and gasped. He dropped the plates. King Boo was gone! And so was his ghostly dog friend!"OH-NO!" He yelled."W-where did they go?? Hello??" He ran around the room searching top to bottom for them."If this is a game of hide-and-seek, now's not the time!" He ran out of the room."Oh great!" He ran down the hallway and started searching the rooms for King Boo and his dog."King Boo? Little buddy? Where did you go??" He called out to them. He ran downstairs and tripped over his own foot. He hit the floor and moaned in pain. He was seeing stars. He quickly got up and started looking for the vacuum Peach was talking about in all the rooms. "I knew I shouldn't have left them alone!" He ran back up the stairs almost falling down again and searched through all the rooms until he finally found the vacuum in Peach's room in her closet."There it is!" It was pink with peaches on it. He left the room and started looking for them. Just then his dog appeared out from the ceiling and started barking. He wagged his tail when he stopped in front of Luigi. He smiled and sighed relieved to see his little buddy alright."Boy am I glad to see you." He said and itched his head. The dog barked and grabbed the vacuum. For some reason he tried to take it away from Luigi!"Hey! Drop it! Oh-no! Did he hypnotize you or something? Let go!" The dog did and he fell on his butt. He barked and flew away from him."Wait!" He started chasing after him. It seemed like the dog wanted him to follow though. He chased him to the roof. It wasn't raining much anymore. It was still wet so he was careful to climb up. He looked around and saw his ghostly dog wagging his tail and spinning around happily. He started jumping on the clouds and made it to the biggest one over the castle. He could see a familiar round shape sitting on top of the cloud with his dog. King Boo! He thought. He sighed and looked at the vacuum. He gasped and saw that the dog chewed it up. He swallowed."What now...?" He asked himself quietly. He took in a deep breath and sighed. He dropped the vacuum and started jumping from one cloud to another until he finally reached the top. King Boo wasn't looking at him. He was still small, almost as small as his Boo's. He still looked injured but not as bad as it looked before. Polterpup was sitting next him and wagging his tail. Boo reached his hand out and started gently petting the dog's head. Luigi blinked a dozen times before rubbing them. He wasn't sure if what he was seeing was real or if he was just seeing things. He slowly walked over to them and sat next to the dog.

King Boo:"....So....nice weather we're having, huh?" He chuckled a little. Luigi stared at him. He wasn't looking at him. His eyes were blue. Not what he was used to seeing. They were usually purple and black.

Luigi:"Uh....yeah. I guess you could....say that." He shrugged. The dog was wagging his tail still while looking back and forth at them. Everything was quiet and the dog stopped. He whined a little before taking off in the air and flying around playfully jumping from one cloud to another.

King Boo:"...So, uhm, Peachy and that plumber boy of hers left, huh?" He quickly looked at Boo and swallowed.

Luigi:"Uhh...." He tugged at his collar."I guess you could say that..." The ghost sighed now frustraited and looked at him.

King Boo:"Look, I'm not dumb, I heard them talking. I was invisible in the next room." Luigi flinched when he raised his voice. He growled a little and looked away. He wasn't too scared of Boo right now, seeing that he didn't have that gem on his head made him feel a little less worried. It was strange that he wasn't trying to attack him though. He didn't have the vacuum with him, this was his chance to take him out! So why wasn't he...? Luigi looked off into the distance to try and find what he was looking at. He saw Peach's ship sailing and they were heading off."Heh.....there she goes again." He said a little quietly. Luigi looked at him."So Peachy's got a new boyfriend I see. Right?" Luigi shrugged.

Luigi:"I honestly don't know. They seem like really good friends and do seem like a couple...but I'm not sure. He hasn't told me exactly." Why was he telling him this?? He should be trying to get him back to the guest room....but he seemed calm right now...? He saw the King Boo was slowly sinking into the cloud until he was lower than Luigi. He seemed to be upset about something. He mumbled something under his breath but he couldn't hear. They were quiet for a moment."...King Boo?" The ghost looked at him."Uhh...I don't mean to change the subject but do you know anything about those traps in the forest?" His eyes widened and he rose up a bit.

King Boo:"You mean you didn't know?? That can't be--surely you're just playing tricks on me!" He said a bit angrily. Luigi quickly sat back and started shaking his hands and his head.

Luigi:"NO! No, no, no, no! Really! I don't! Even Peach and Mario don't know about them! Honest! Why would I even get stuck in one myself if I knew about them??"

King Boo:"Because you're clumsy half the time." He said as if it was obvious. Luigi frowned.

Luigi:"Oh..." He said flatly. King Boo rolled his eyes and looked away again.

King Boo:"Anyways, I can only assume those traps belong to that stupid old man you work with....but that is a little strange he would just throw them around the place carelessly like that..." He touched his chin as he thought about it."I didn't get a good look at them, I just noticed some of my Boo's going missing." Luigi stood up."Those things are dangerous to ghosts! They hurt until we can't move anymore! I actually felt like I had a body! I'm not sure what that shock did but it's making it hard for me to heal faster." Luigi nodded when he looked at the marks on his body. Polterpup came back and sat next to Boo. He wagged his tail while panting. The ghost pat the little dog's head. Luigi couldn't help but smile a little. He was glad that he didn't hurt his little buddy while he was out. The ghost looked at him."I thought maybe you were helping that old man when I saw you wandering around the forest." Luigi frowned.

Luigi:"No, I actually haven't seen him in a while." He fixed his green shirt."If these are his traps why would he be placing them around like that? Especially without telling the Princess?" They thought about it for a little while. King Boo shrugged.

King Boo:"He's probably finally going out of his mind. Trying to make quick money off from selling ghosts trapped in paintings." He said with a disgusted look on his face. Luigi glared at him

Luigi:"You tried putting us in paintings!" He said with a bit of anger in his voice.

King Boo:"I didn't start this fight, HE did." He sneered."But I will end it if I have to. I'm sick and tired of that old man kidnapping my Boo's!" He growled. Luigi put his hands up. He didn't want to upset the ghost and end up stuck in a painting. He has to think about this. Luigi relaxed a little.

Luigi:"Well...how about we figure something out." King Boo narrowed his eyes."Let's find out who's been placing these traps all over the kingdom and make sure no one get's hurt. And make them clean up their mess so this doesn't happen again...and find your Boo's! How's that sound? Deal?" He held out his hand to the ghost's. He hesitated at first. He looked at the dog was smiling at him. He sighed.

King Boo:"Alright. I guess....but no tricks!" He took his hand. Yeah same to you pal, Luigi thought to himself. He looked back at the water and the ship was gone."....How long do you think they're gonna be gone?"

Luigi:"Huh? Oh, I dunno. They're meeting Bowser I think. Mario's with her though so I'm not too worried." King Boo gave him a look and raised a brow. Luigi blinked."What? It's Bowser! He won't be too hard for Mario to take care of. I'm sure of it!" He nodded while putting his hands on his hips.

King Boo:"Right..." He laid back down on the cloud. Polterpup did the same. Luigi sat down on the cloud."Well this'll be interesting won't it? Enemies working together until we figure out who's been causing trouble around Peachy's kingdom."

Luigi:"I guess so." He smiled a little."But I bet we'll get to be friends by the end of this!" The ghost went quiet. Then he laughed.

King Boo:"In your dreams nerd!" He grinned."When this is all over, we're going back to paintings and vacuums." Luigi frowned.

Luigi:"Ohh..." He didn't like the sound of that. Boo laughed again.

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

Uhhh....might continue on this. I didn’t expect it to go like this but oh well! Would’ve felt too quick just to jump into it so will probably work on the next page! I’m having a bit of an art block for my own work at the moment. So here’s some King Boo/Luigi fanfic! I hope this page doesn’t look weird or anything. I tried fixing it before but I guess it messed it up.

[littlefreya]

The Way to Hell - Part 9

MANY Thanks to @raspberrydreamclouds who designed this cover as a gift! ☝

Summary: Post Mi6, Alternate Canon. August escapes Ethan Hunt with his face intact and is currently the most dangerous man alive. Unwilling to back down from his murderous agenda, he plots to continue where he stopped, unaware of the trained assassin who is sent to bring him down.

Chapters: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10| Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Completed.

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Lacey)

Word count: 8.3k

Warnings: Dark themes, smut, fluff and angst. Unprotected sex, hints of stalking, violence, swearing, sexual mentions, slight gore, choking, death.   

A/N: Okay, this chapter is long, it was hard to write, you guys may never speak to me again after this. So I’ll just post it now, and turn off my phone and hide beneath the blanket with excessive anxiety. Thanks @agniavateira for editing my work and being my muse.💖 

As always, comments and feedback are more than welcome 💖💕

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of the source material and claiming it as your own*

Title: Lacey

~*~

Have you paid the ferryman?

~*~

The cool light of fluorescent doesn’t do the honeyed gold of her hair justice. 

Doe eyes meet him, a striking green. Pure, like freshly-cut grass on a spring morning. The navy-coloured suit she wears counters the sunny shade of her slightly curly hair. She sports mid-length tassels, cut neatly just above her shoulders. She looks like she had it done this morning by the looks of it . 

“Hartmann, Lacey.”

Sitting at his desk with a pen pressed to his lips, the CIA agent observes her while ignoring the small hand in front of him. A tall, fit man in his late 20’s, face clean-shaven, hair like pure chocolate, combed neatly to the side but for a large rogue curl that falls on his brow. He collects it between his fingers and attempts to tuck it back in place.

“I don’t do partners, sweetcheeks.” he retorts after a short glance and turns away from the young agent, returning to his computer to browse a file he was just reading before she interrupted him.

An amused sigh passes through her plump lips as she shakes her head with sheer disbelief. “Do you have it any more cliche than that?” 

“I might, depending how long you are going to loom over there, princess.” August shoots back and slightly adjusts the tie around his shirt collar, not bothering to face the young woman again. It’s obvious what this is: a muzzler, or rather a babysitter in the form of a really good-looking girl. 

He fights the temptation to take another gander at the way her hair frames the apples of her rosy cheeks. 

“But since you’re already here, how about you fulfil your purpose in life and get me a cup of coffee? Double espresso, no sugar.”

August shoots her a look, observing her immediate reaction. Lacey’s green eyes widen, her mouth slightly opens. She rubs her knuckle between the soft pads of her fingers while thinking of what could be a suitable response to his disrespectful request.

I guess Erica didn’t bother prepping her.

Sloane, the heartless lioness. She leered at him with that sour look on her face since the day he stepped into the building. He swears the woman must have slices of lemons hidden in her panties. There is not even a drop of respect in those dark eyes whenever he sits in her office. Nor does she harbour any trust in his performance on the field. 

It all just worsened thanks to Ukraine. 

The explosion in the old Soviet power plant killed dozens of innocent lives at the cost of one. Though that man was responsible for the death of thousands, if not more. 

If you want to tear down a building, you better use a fucking hammer.

That cunt should thank him and promote him. 

“Nothing but daddy’s boy.” That’s what she sees in him. He might as well be another dead CIA agent like his father, then. Erased from memory, his great achievements discredited. At least he doesn’t have a family to throw to the dogs so they can rip them to shreds.

Oh Sloane, if only you knew half of the shit that goes beneath that stuck-up nose of yours.

Releasing another deep sigh, Lacey slumps to the seat in front of him, crossing her long legs together and leaning back in her chair while grabbing the folder on her desk. Her lips clamp together tightly, trying to hide the saltiness on her face. Long lashes curtain her eyes which pretend to read through the file. August rolls his eyes with annoyance, trying to ignore her existence and continue working his way through a case he’s been reading before she interrupted him. 

Yet every now and then his storm-touched eyes peer at the naive-looking woman, observing her and trying to determine how long will she last.

~*~

Is this hell?

~*~

That dusting of freckles on her nose and the fresh shimmer in her eyes give out much softness, yet she is anything but weak. Lacey Hartmann is a shield-maiden of some sort. For 2 months she withstood August’s “boot camp,” meaning she appeared unaffected by his cold demeanour.

At times there is even a hint of a smile hiding beneath that peach shade lipstick when August challenges her with an obscene dark joke. A hint of amusement tints the green of her irises, but she never dares to admit it. 

Too coy, almost chaste, yet iron-willed. 

August finds her behaviour borderline masochistic as he continues to prize her with nothing but arctic affection. Even so, she always listens when he speaks, her eyes open with pure intent, a fertile green field in her glance. 

Something spikes at the marrow of his bones, intrigue or so. Trivial thoughts find themselves latching into the tunnels of his complicated mind. His CIA brain begins to note her morning routine. A glacial stare registers the vanilla latte she drinks almost religiously every morning at 9, with two teaspoons of sugar. Lacey has a sweet tooth, it seems. She never misses dessert at the cantine and he once caught her bending the rules and sneaking candies back from their previous mission at eastern Europe.

He also noticed how when she is nervous, she twirls a finger in her hair with agitation and chews her plump lips. 

Blue is another point of interest. The colour seems to be dominant in her attire and accessories for some cryptic reason, though. not obsessively. She wears black or grey but then ties a silk scarf the shade of the sky around her delicate throat. When she is having a bad hair day, it’s the red pencil suit that draws attention to her body instead. The combination is horrifying when she sits in front of him holding her favourite mug which is glittery cerulean. 

He begins to wonder about her life outside of the headquarters. Her file rested in his apartment for weeks yet only recently he found himself bored enough to peek inside and read about her personal life. No husband is listed under her marital state, yet he wonders if a woman as attractive as Lacey has a man waiting for her at home. Someone kind, he imagines, and pitiful. She looks like a woman lacking a strong man in her life. 

“Are you going to finish that?” 

August’s brows furrow as she cuts into his adventurous trails of thought. His glassy eyes pierce at her as she sits in front of him at the cantine, sharing a lunch table. He hardly speaks during lunch anyway, and only listens to her musings with the usual sulk on his face. 

Lacey appears slightly frightened when she sees his menacing expression, yet her fright melts into a soft blush and a coy grin, in an attempt to pacify him. He nudges the plate with a slice of chocolate cake in her direction. 

“No, go ahead.” he watches as she digs her fork into it with excitement, her eyes shutting with near orgasmic pleasure as the chocolate melts on her tongue.  

His mind continues to wander, offering him possible imaginary visions of her personal life while she mumbles something in the background about the cake being outrageous. 

Her home address would be in that file too. 

It’s nothing but idle curiosity, after all.

~*~

You don’t believe in hell.

~*~

It’s been over 6 months of enduring her by his side. August imagined she’d run off crying to Sloane 2 days after being forced into this partnership, but she keeps a vow of secrecy, even when he bends a guideline or two during missions or violates nearly every HR policy. At first, she would warn him about his behaviour, but now she just calls it “The Walker Way”. 

It almost feels like he has a partner in crime. 

They arrived in Sicily a night ago, their mission is to locate and capture a millionaire-turned-terrorist and bring him in for questioning. It’s a  high profile target, which means the CIA spared no expense providing them with the finest hotel suites and fancy attire to attend a gallery opening. An informant suggested the suspect might be doing his bidding at the same mansion. 

Lacey meets August at the hotel’s main parking lot, wearing a cornflower blue mermaid-cut gown. Threads of silver adorn the outlines of her cleavage and little pieces of sparkling glitter draw his attention to her bust. He doesn’t attempt to hide the way his eyes fixate on her breasts. Beaming at the pale pink fat of her bosom before his gaze finally wanders to meet her face, giving her his regular cocky stance.

Is she wearing a bra underneath?

“You look handsome,” Lacey compliments, swallowing a complaint about the obvious way he objectified her. “We look as if we’ve matched colours.” The royal blue three-piece suit brings out the ocean in his eyes and she allows herself to dwell in the calm water as she glances back, offering him a smile.

Stoic, he ignores her praises, studying her face quietly. The shade on her lips is not the usual one; it’s darker, making her look more vamping. He doesn’t like it, her natural appearance is sweet and supple, and this colour clashes with her complexion and the concept of her in his mind.

The unnerving silence between them greatly challenges her. The need to crack the autumn evening air with some sort of dialogue pans in her chest. 

“Are you…” Lacey begins speaking when her eyes squint at the region of his mouth. “...growing a moustache?” Bold fingers reach up, ghosting over his upper lip where a few days’ stubble seems to grow longer than the rest on his jaw. August cocks his eyebrow as the tips of her fingers almost touch his mouth. She notices his disapproval and pulls her hand away apologetically.

“For the mission, I thought it might make me look older.” 

An amused smile cracks on her face, her cheeks rounding up to perfect blushing circles. “The real Mrs. Walker would be mortified.”  

August scoffs, rolling his eyes at the notion before turning away to watch the cars that pass by. His hand rests on his chest, straightening the vest underneath his suit and stretches the muscles of his back. A timid-blowing zephyr caresses his face; his Adam apple rises and drops dryly in his throat.

“Is there a…”

“Oh c’mon, Hartmann! You know the answer to the question, don’t act stupid and play small talk with me, it’s not your style.” 

Lacey’s lips press shut together, her green eyes dropping to the floor. She knows the only Mrs. Walker is his mother, and Madeleine has been gone for a couple of years now. Everything is in his file, allowing her to learn about the “mundane life” August Walker leads, or at least the ones he allows her to see through her CIA spectacles. 

It was an obligation to do the same with her. His old man once told him to learn who he’s dealing with before opening his “goddamn mouth.” That’s all there is to it, and his curiosity if he has to admit it.

Lacey Hartmann lives alone with her cat, Sir Podrick, on Hampshire St 457 on flat number 45. A magazine two-room apartment, picture-perfect, tidy to the point of OCD. She has an older sister but they rarely see each other. On her free weekends, she loves to watch romantic comedies while drinking hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows. 

He often wonders if her sweet tooth is compensating for something missing in her life. Yet there is never a man in her apartment.

Sometimes she dances in front of the window, especially after a hard day at the office. He can’t tell which music is playing in her headphones, but the way she moves her body makes him believe it’s something upbeat and cheerful. 

The images of her bedroom window vanish as a slightly irritating thought peaks in his mind at her comment. Mrs. Walker. A hiss of violent air shoots from his nostrils. 

Relationships were not something he cared to pursue. Life had other offerings. 

Besides, the women he liked were too tender and he was too rough. So, his conquests never lasted more than a night. 

Agitated, he pulls his sleeve to look at his Rolex, muttering something obscene under his breath which makes Lacey shift uncomfortably on her feet. The driver should have arrived by now. Every car that parks at the pebbled road bears disappointment, dropping off more honeymooners and rich, older married couples. 

A soft smile breaks on Lacey’s painted lips while she stares at August who’s facing the driveway with his fists clenched at the sides of his body.

“Well, since we’re stuck here waiting for a ride, you better entertain me.” Lacey speaks with grace, not a hint of nervousness or fright in her voice. She learnt how to deal with August and his tantrums by now. 

August remains silent, his sight never breaking from the driveway and the alley of palm trees that pave the path. 

“Or I guess we can stare at the big full moon,” she says to herself, lifting her eyes to the clear sky.

August stares back at the golden-haired woman, her long lashes fluttering gently as she counts the stars in her mind. A naive glint sparks her eyes as she’s captivated by her own fascination. The pale blue of the moon reflects on her milky skin, making her look like a siren in her beautiful dress.

“Yeah, it’s lovely,” he says in his deep voice. 

*~*

And even if it existed, hell wouldn’t have you.

*~*

The expo is held at a royal mansion of some sort. A large Sicilian palace that is owned by an ageing millionaire. Golden floral embellishments spread across the azure velvet walls, shimmering at the lights of the crystal chandeliers which dangle in the halls.   

Various ancient trinkets are placed in glass cubes. Crudely-made bows and arrows that were carved from cheap wood by a half-brain neanderthal are offered for the price of 200,000,000 Euros.    

Ridiculous.

Keen on finding their target, both August and Lacey decide to split up upon their arrival, planning their strategy ahead by protocol. August is the striking image of professionalism tonight, stretching his gaze around the large hallway. He has been this way for the last several missions, working by the book, making sure to perform as clean as possible, whatever that means in CIA terms. 

He even managed to win a word of praise from Sloane, who still can’t stand the very sight of his face. But at least she ceased from eating his head at the conclusion of every mission. 

And Lacey seems to appreciate it, too. 

The brooding man spends the night pretending to be enthralled by the exhibition and its boring guests who continually attempt to strike pointless conversations with him. As part of his task, he only speaks with those who seem to be an asset and brushes others away by answering in fluent Italian, pretending to not understand a word in English while smiling at them politely. 

Blending in, the young agent stands by one of the bars, leaning onto the marble counter and enjoying some type of strawberries-in-cream dessert which was offered to him by a tall,  abnormally attractive waitress who’s been walking around with a silver tray. 

Lacey would love this fruit-pudding thingy, he muses as his fingers brush through the mid-length stubble above his lip. His eyes carefully scan the room for any group of men in their late 30s for a clue or a sign. 

The sound of a woman’s laughter chips away his attention like a siren’s call.

So that’s how she sounds like when she laughs. 

Grabbing a glass of champagne, he steps forward on the black carpeted floor, following the cheerful voice as it rolls delightfully in his ears. Storm clouds gather in his eyes. The siren is behaving unprofessionally to the point of being offensive. A tall glass of half-empty Lambrusco hangs between her slender fingers while her head falls back; her hand rests on her chest, trying to contain her laughter. 

She is the centre of attention to a group of famished men. 

August frowns with disapproval. She’s supposed to act drunk, not get buzzed. Standing at the large pathway, he watches how she smiles widely, mouth gaping, small dimples peeking at the corner of her lips. The honey of her hair makes her stand out in a room of dark beauties, the shade of her dress an anchor for any travelling eyes.

He takes an irritated sip from his champagne, swallowing the sparkly liquid, trying to ignore the bells of laughter which begin to sound like an insult, meant to provoke him. His piercing eyes search for the target in the room, focusing on the task on hand and being the professional his father urged him to be. 

Yet as if magnetized, his glare returns to her.  

For a moment there he nearly forgets that she is a CIA agent. The men around her flirt nearly barbarically, their mouths salivating with predatory hunger. Is she too pure to understand their intentions? The vultures are waiting to tear her limb by limb. Possibly hoping she will be drunk enough to be dragged by one of them.

The storm inside him rages. Thoughts of her being tainted by one of these hideous men enter his mind and poison bubbles in his throat, drowning him in anger.

He puts his champagne flute on the tray of one of the hostesses who passes by. He fixes his tie over his neck and swallows hard. His strides are confident and charismatic as he marches into their circle abruptly, reaching an arm over to Lacey. 

“Sweetheart, here you are. Come see this piece, you’re going to love it.” hee speaks with contained anger, his baritone loud and clear, roaring through his puffed chest and squared shoulders.

Lacey turns to smile at him as he latches his fingers around her forearm, rescuing her by pulling her away from the predators with as much elegance he can muster at his current aggravated mood.

“Are you fucking drunk, Hartmann? What’s wrong with you?! We have a dangerous man to catch.” He whispers angry and low in her ear, carrying her toward an open terrace where they can discuss and re-strategize the mission.

The cool breeze caresses their faces, tenderly running through their hair as they approach the open air. The young woman continues to giggle as August’s fingers tickle beneath her armpit while he takes her to stand next to the large renaissance modules that hide them from the guests of the event. He lets go of her forearm, looking down at her with a scowl.

“Relax, I was trying to make it look convincing with these decadent, empty idiots.” she attempts to pacify him, looking up into his eyes, her head reaching just beneath his square chin. 

“Isn’t it ridiculous?”

“What is?”

“The way they sell these artefacts on such a high price when it was created by a primitive creature who ate his own fleas,” she mocks with a mischievous smile. “This is the end of human culture, this capitalistic point of view.”

A cold shiver crawls at August’s spine as he hears her speaking of his ideals. He had never seen her this way before. 

So opinionated, so bold. 

Has she been reading my mind?

They have never been this physically close, he can smell the lupines on her skin and the Lambrusco on her breath. Lacey’s amused grin begins to relax somewhat, her eyes now staring at something with stark fascination.

“You have a brown spot in one of your eyes.”

August brow furrows even deeper, dark lines forming between his thick eyebrows as the woman ogles him in a bizarre way. His blood thickens as the pleasant wind brushes at his face.

“Sectoral heterochromia, I was born with it.”

“It’s beautiful,” she answers with an enchanted glare, batting her lashes and moving further to study the shape of his flaw. Her feet arch to the tip of her toes, reaching higher to his face. August remains still, watching as if within a haze when her lips crash onto his. 

Chills spiral through his nerves, his eyes wide open as her soft lips press into his in a long, chaste kiss. There is a small hum in her voice, painted lashes look like black curved trails as her eyes shut with an enchantment. For a second he can feel her body press into his, her breasts grinding at his broad chest. She slowly detaches from him, opening her eyes and falling flat on her feet.

Alarm spills onto her face, her hand covering her mouth with guilt as panic surges. August stares back without a sign of emotion on his arctic face.

“I’m so sorry!” She calls out in utter embarrassment, moving away from him by a step.

His breath grows rigid, his mind a war. In an instant, he pulls her wrist away from her face and claims her into his grasp, kissing her earnestly, even violently. Lacey’s moans melt into his mouth, her body crashing into his, writhing as her lips gape, accepting his insidious tongue. 

She tastes like sugar.

August slams her against the wall, growling as her hands roam down his body and messing his outfit. A fervent stir tingles at his groin and the way she squeezes the muscles of his behind and tries to shove her hands under his trousers does nothing to relax his racing heart. Depraved, his hand pushes between her legs, trying to cup her heat through the tight dress, yet it cages her legs too tightly. 

“I want you out of this fucking dress.” August growls, breaking the passionate kiss to breath hot and heavy in her ear. 

“Then take me back to the hotel.” she retorts breathlessly, grinding her pelvis into the growing hardness in his groin.

“We can’t, the mission.”

Lacey emits a frustrated huff, sounding as if she’s meaning to beg as her body constantly pushes into his in a snakelike dance. “Forget about him, he’s not here, we’ll do it the Walker way.”

There is nothing in this world strong enough to convince him otherwise as those big doe eyes peer at him with admiration and a sense of need he never received from any woman before. It wasn’t like the women who begged him to fuck them as he tormented and delayed their release.

For the first time in his life, he felt purely wanted.

~*~

The ride back to the hotel is the most dreadful experience he had to endure in his life. Both Lacey and he sit at each side of the car, avoiding eye contact whilst their organs throb with aching need. She keeps her fingers laced together while the driver listens to some old Italian love song and sings along the tunes on the radio. August attempts to avoid drowning into his thoughts but the idea of having her tonight makes the blood pool hot in his loins.

They hardly make it into her room. Exploiting every moment left in solitude to make out like horny teenagers. Whenever a hotel staff member or a guest passes by, they break away from one another in the most obvious manner.

As they finally arrive at the suite, August kicks the door shut with his foot and preys at her, his talons reaching for her face, his thumb wiping off whatever remains of her lipstick before kissing her again. 

“I don’t like this, it isn’t you.” he states in between invigorated kisses while Lacey battles to take off his clothes, pushing the blazer off his shoulders and then working the buttons of his vest and shirt with lust guiding her fingers. She ignores his remark, answering with another breathless kiss instead while moving to fumble with his belt.

Their feet kick at one another as August leads them toward the king-size bed, fondling the curves of her body through the terrible prison that is her dress. His long legs nearly lose their balance as she successfully unzips his trousers and finds him fully erect and pulsating in her small hand. 

Logic turns to steam at the manipulation of her hands. His gasps resonate through the length of his throat, giving in to the whispers of his heart. How long yearned for her, wanting to keep her in the birdcage of his vision. 

Lacey, so bold yet so sweet.   

With the swiftness of his hands, he turns her around, tugging at the zipper of her dress while dotting her collarbone with possessive nibbles. Her naked figure unveils to him as a flower opens to the sunlight of spring.

Left in nothing but her baby-blue lace underwear, she steps out of her dress and moves to face the large naked man, pacing back as he sneaks toward her like a direwolf. The look on her face is admirable. Drenched of fear and desire at once, feeding his natural dominance.

“August…” she whispers his name. Her lips quiver at the sight of his broad form, appreciating every sinew, every muscle. August reaches to hold his cock as the blood stirs into it with rage, wanting to be inside this angel, to taint her and mark every piece of skin. 

“I don’t have a condom.” he warns, licking his lips as she slides her underwear down her long, creamy legs. Her mound is completely waxed, just the way he wants it. Pure.  

“I’m clean and protected.”

Inviting him into her mysteries, Lacey offers him a devoted stare and reaches her delicate hand toward him. No clarity is left in his mind; desire clouds every rational thought, every self-preservation instinct. He ignores her hand and lunges at her like a predator.

They fall into a sea of silken sheets together, August covering her body with his, giving no care of how his weight crushes her. His hands hold her wrists pinned to the mattress as he pushes her smooth thighs apart with his knees.

Lacey’s moans are mesmerizing as he sinks himself into her wonders. Singing her pleasure at him like a true siren. An overwhelmed groan breaks from his own lips as the wetness of her flesh encloses around his cock, sucking him from within with an embrace of lust. Soft and delicate, she writhes against his crude, rugged body and he thrusts inside her with teetering grunts, taking her with sheer, primal dominance. 

She feels different, like no other woman he ever had before. Completely submissive to his darkest desires. Her body opens to him, like a precious, heavenly nymph and he takes what he wants. Deeper and deeper, drowning into her womb, never wanting to stop, invigorated by the way her hands clutch at his body with the same desperation that is in his chest.

For three days, they never leave the suite. Lost in a carnal euphoria that makes both of them forget the existence of the outer world.

~*~

Oh, hell indeed exists, it’s on the earth you walked your entire life.

~*~

The delicious aroma of crispy, caramelized bacon and fluffy pancakes tickles his senses to wake up. Salty and sweet, the scent draws him to sit upon the bed that’s slightly too small for his wide frame. A drowsy smirk crawls onto his face. This scent is his second favourite thing to wake up to.  

Locating his cobalt trunks on the floor, he hauls himself out of her bed, pulls them on and tries to tame the messy bundle of curls on his head while he walks to find her in the kitchen. The bacon sizzles on the pan as Lacey stands next to the stove in his buttoned-up shirt. She is flipping an impossible quantity of pancakes and frying strips of bacon in another pan. 

Her rounded ass peeks at him with every shift her body makes.

August sneaks behind her with the skill of a CIA agent, looming closer and wrapping his arms around her torso, his chin resting on the top of her head, while his hungry eyes feast on the pancakes and amber bacon.

Lacey flinches in his grip, he can feel her heart jump for a moment before she relaxes into his embrace, lips melting into a wide smirk as August rocks her from side to side.

“Morning,” she hums delightfully. “Go sit, there is freshly brewed coffee waiting for you.”

August drops a kiss on the top of her head, a low growl of serenity climbing up his throat. “You’re a dream, princess.”

And you’re all mine. 

With a wisp of unwillingness, he detaches from her and walks to the table, where Lacey’s favourite mug of coffee awaits him with steam rising from within. His eyes are a calm sea sparkling at the sunrise as he looks at her with admiration. 

Everything about her tips him across the edges of sanity; the way she smiles at his horrible dark jokes, the way she listens to everything he says with devotion and appeal, the way she speaks about her ideals and sees him like no person ever did before.

Lacey turns her head and sneaks a small glance at him, giving a smile and a wink before returning to the stove.

It took 5 months to admit to himself that he likes this, that he enjoyed being here, with her and her stupid cat, or in every distant location in the world. It didn’t matter if they were in Afghanistan or Paris, as long as he got to listen to her breathing in her slumber. That night in Sicily wasn’t just mindless sex. It was a union of two souls. They spent the night talking and while he was reluctant to open up-as he still is-he was stunned to find out just how much this woman shared similar points of views.

Though she never says it specifically, Lacey wants to watch the world burn. 

He hasn't even told her about his idea, not yet. It’s probably too soon anyway as he only started formulating his intention a couple of months ago. A part of him still fears how she may react if she finds out he’s been selling CIA secrets and dealing weapons right beneath Sloane’s nose. 

“I hope you’re hungry,”

Lacey calls out as she places two large plates of pancakes and bacon on the table and walks quickly to get the maple syrup from the counter. Sir Podrick jumps on the table as she puts the syrup next to the plates. Aggravated, August shoos the cat away and reaches to grab the woman's forearm, forcing her into his lap possessively.

“You know I am, princess.” he murmurs as he kisses her shoulder and then her lips, before grabbing a piece of pancake and some bacon with his fork and nibbling it deliciously. Lacey remains on his lap, grabbing a stripe of bacon from his plate and chewing on it with a pleasant moan before directing her gaze to August.

“How long do you think we can keep this a secret?” she asks, slight concern appearing on her face. August swallows the remaining pancake in his mouth and sips some coffee to clear his throat. His fingers thread through the gold of her hair, combing the large waves repeatedly.

“I don’t want them to take you away from me.”

His voice is nearly that of a child.

The agency’s protocol won’t allow partners to be in a relationship due to an incredible conflict of interest. “Sloane would lose her shit if she’d find out this entire time we’ve been doing this.” He chuckles dryly and shoves another piece of pancake into his mouth while still looking at Lacey. The first morning rays shine through the wide-open window, basking her face with a shimmering summer glow. 

“We can run away,” she teases. “Buy a yacht, tell Erica to go fuck herself and sail the sea.”

August smirks, his hand descending to the small of her back as images of embarking to the great unknown with her fill his chest with euphoric bliss. 

A daydream, perhaps in the future, after mankind is free.  

“I think she’s beginning to warm up to me though.” 

“Well, she did start calling you The Hammer after the last mission.” Lacey answers and grabs the mug from August’s side, stealing a mischievous sip. “If only they knew it has a different meaning to some of us.”

August crooks his eyebrow up at Lacey and wipes his moustache clean. His hands reach to tickle the sides of her belly, causing her to let go of the mug before he snatches it back. Her giggles make his heart feel at ease, something he’ll never dare to tell or show her. 

Asserting his dominance by only giving as much. 

“Why did you join the agency in the first place? You never told me.” she wraps her arms around his shoulders, the green of her eyes appearing yellow at the ray of sunlight that beams on her face.

His gaze falls upon the table, staring at the remnants of the pancakes while licking his teeth. Thoughts of his past begin to echo in the chasm of his mind. 

The day his mom fell to her knees and let out a banshee-like howl of agony at the empty ceiling as two agents came into their house.

He was 13, and from that moment on, he was all alone in a cold, ravenous world. 

“I wanted to die for the government, just like my father.” he spits out, thinking of how his life turned over one autumn morning. A tall, lanky boy who couldn’t even comfort his mother as she tore off tufts of her hair. 

August didn’t even cry, not since then.  

The curious look on Lacey’s face fades into sadness, compassion welling on her now golden-green irises. “You never told me how he died.” 

A muscle twitches in his cheek, his eyebrows knitting together as anger begins to slightly boil his blood. “Like all heroes, forgotten. I don’t know how, it was during a mission in Moscow. Nothing in his files but a mention on an accident, no details other than that.” 

“Is that why you have such small faith in the government?” Lacey asks innocently, referring to their pillow-talk. The ones they have while she presses her soft cheek to his chest and draws invisible circles onto his chest.  

The lump in his throat dries as he remembers the weeks that followed after his father was gone. They were thrown to the dogs to be gnawed at. No compensation, no financial support, and no one to comfort young August. 

His mother couldn’t even look at him anymore. Those blue soulful eyes, the cleft of his chin, and even the shape of his nose were inherited from his father. 

The most pain August has ever endured was when someone he loved was unable to look at him anymore.  

Madeleine was a loyal housewife from the midwest who never took a real job. Arthur provided for them. While he wasn’t the warmest father, he kept his family close, taking them with him on his trips, unless they were too dangerous. 

By the time August was seven, he’s already been to all continents. 

After his father’s death, both the money and his mother withered away. Having no experience in anything but waiting tables, Madeleine couldn't support her own child and perhaps she didn’t want to. The boy was a painful memory of what she lost. 

The last he remembers of her, she dragged him with her to church and went on her knees as August sat on the bench. She prayed and cried out to God until her knees bled and her eyes rimmed red from the tears she wept.

But God never answered.

That week, social services arrived at their door. He never saw her since that day and needless to say, no one wanted a hostile 13-year-old boy. 

August turns his face to stare at Lacey, examining her round, freckled face and her plump, pink lips. They make her look like a renaissance painting of an angel. At times, he’s afraid that his rage will tarnish her, swallow the light of her spirit. Yet he can never hold back, fucking her so roughly, she hurts for days. His instincts drive him to spill all his fury into her cavities. To offer all the spite and hurt that poisoned his soul, as if it will cleanse him. 

And for a few seconds, he is sanctified. Coming inside her makes him feel complete in every sense of the word.   

The soft purring of Lacey’s cat grounds him to reality. The chubby ginger cat rubs around his leg affectionately, his yellow diamond eyes staring at August. 

“Let’s not talk about it, anymore,” he replies in a somewhat final tone.

Lacey nods at him, giving him a look full of understanding. Her fingers reach behind his ear, stroking the soft chocolate curls and tucking them back. “Okay, Aug. But we really need to talk about that!” 

Her fingers move to point at his thick moustache, her eyes narrowing with disdain. 

August strokes his moustache with his thumb and index finger and lets them slide down the stubble of his square chin. “You don’t like it?”

Lacey shakes her head with protest, trying her best to appear irritated. “No.”  

Princess is so cute when she pretends to be angry.

August offers her a smug smirk in return, grabbing the last remaining piece of bacon from his plate and sliding it whole into his mouth. “Too bad, it stays.” he answers with his mouth full, grease smearing on the corners of his lips. “It makes me look dangerous and you love it.”

“No, you look like pornstar.”

“I’d fuck you like one.” he answers with a dark glint in his eyes. In a sudden movement, he places both hands on Lacey’s waist and stands up with her in his grip. The woman squeals with surprise as he flings her over his shoulder with little to no effort and stings her ass with a sharp slap.

“Do you want it here, sweetheart, or in the bedroom?” he asks and bites the fat of her behind. Lacey cries out in pain, her legs kicking the air.

He loves to hear her laugh, just as much as he loves to hear her scream.

*~*

If hell is on earth, then what does it make you?

*~*

Like a creature dwelling in the darkness, he sits in the bleak hours of the night, fingers stroking the keys as if he’s a composer, conducting his symphony of destruction. The flesh of his lips chafe at the lack of sleep and insufficient fluids, yet he gives no care. 

This will be his legacy, his gift to the world, his gift to her.

The pale teal light of the screen flickers lightly on his weary corneas. It’s nothing but pixels, black on white, five blocks of paragraphs for now, but the raw power in words proceeds beyond any other weapon known to mankind. So pure, so cataclysmic. 

Just like an atomic reaction.

She will see through his eyes soon. The potential, the greater good. All her words of breaking the system, about dreaming of a better world. A sweet, naive girl with a mind fed with agenda. It was as if they were threaded into one another’s life, destined to be. 

The paving of a new world has already begun. They call themselves the apostles, a group of no more than 12 people, men and women of science and power. Their identities are unknown among one another. It matters very little, the seeds have been sown into the earth. Small acts of terror, biological and chemical incidents around selected locations around the globe, just enough to test the waters. 

Greatness from small beginnings.

It will take time, yet he is patient, and his little angel of destruction will be by his side once the time is right. All mankind will be reunited in peace after the earth will shudder beneath their feet.

~*~

Does it make you a monster?

~*~

Something sharp prods his mind to wake up. A nightmare, whispering toxic words in the darkness. He hears a vague ruffle in the webbed darkness of the night and he blindly reaches his palm to stroke her and finds himself abandoned. There is a knot in his gut and a storm brewing in his mind. Carefully and silently, he reaches for the loaded gun in his nightstand and slips out of bed. 

Pale blue and humming, a soft light invites him to follow to the office next to his bedroom. His heart drums heavily in his chest, his face falling as his vision becomes clear. Bright pink winks through the molten mixture of shadow and light. She hovers over his open computer, spreading files and paper plans over the surface of his desk, all the while holding her digital camera, violating his secrets.

Whatever is in his chest shrieks and bleeds with misery.

“Would be more efficient if you’d switch the light on.”

The woman jumps as she hears his voice and a heavy flood of bright light showers her crimes as August flicks the switch on. She straightens up, as stiff as a frozen tree. Unable to face him right away, her face remains hidden from him. August can see the spasm of her legs beneath her nightdress.

“What are you doing?” August asks, his voice low and menacing, eyes travelling from the Nikon camera that hangs from her hand to his secret scribbles as they lay on his desk, right next to his open manifest. 

“Look at me.” he demands, stern and composed as he can. 

Lacey turns slowly to peer at him, her lips aquiver, eyes shining with guilt. The only sound from her is the shudder of her breath that rushes through her heaving chest. 

The hurt must have blinded his thoughts. He doesn’t remember aiming his gun at her head, it’s only when he sees the woman’s surrendering gesture does he register his actions.

Taking a deep breath, he lowers his gun and places it carefully on the floor. His hands splay in the air, disarmed, offering a truce as he stretches to stand straight. 

“Was I…” he swallows the dryness in his throat and licks his lips. 

It would take a real fool to be so blind to see what was in front of him the whole time. 

“I was your mission?”

Lacey remains quiet, her eyes refusing to meet his. Tears glide down the apples of her rosy cheeks. 

“Tell me the truth Lacey, please. I just want to understand.” The threat in his voice turns soft, becoming nearly a plea as he takes one step forward, watching the woman flinch and step back, her behind colliding with the desk.

The woman weeping in front of him is a trained CIA agent, yet the despair in her eyes shows no signs of panning struggle. The only way out of this room is through him, a man who is nearly twice her size and knows her every move.

“Erica suspected you’re the one who is leaking secrets, so she sent me…”

That’s why she inquired so much, wanted to hear his thoughts, to sleep at his home despite his reluctance. He agreed for the first time tonight, unaware of her insidious intentions. 

Did you really think you deserve this?

August scoffs, his heart clenching painfully in his battered lungs. 

He was wrong. There is something more painful than having someone you love never look back at you. 

“Did she tell you to sleep with me?”

Lacey’s gaze drops to the floor in silence; her answer is nothing but a pathetic sniffle as she pinches her nose.

Bile rises in his throat as he sees shame on her face, so obvious, so obscene. Her purity was false. 

There was nothing sweet or innocent about her, she was nothing but a whore.

“Answer me!!!” he rumbles, more beast than man. 

Lacey jumps and sobs with panic, nodding her head at him with her confession.  “Ye..Yes… any means possible.”

Running his palm through his face and groaning with frustration, the young CIA agent exhales hoarsely. He takes another small step towards her, gradually closing the distance between them, watching his shadow loom on her porcelain skin.

Lacey’s eyes widen with panic. Her ankles kick back the wooden legs of the desk, her hands scattering August’s belongings. White sheets of paper fly down to the floor, ink smudged by tears.

“Stay away,” she warns.

“Does she know? Did you tell her or anyone else at the agency?” he ignores her pathetic threats, taking another step closer. Her floral scent fills his nostrils, nearly triggering his instinct to claim her lips. His gaze softens with an ocean of mercy as she shakes in front of him so violently, breaking into tears of grief. 

Delicate fingers cup her jaw, sliding across the slick moistness of her tears as he tilts her chin up. “Please, tell me the truth.” 

Lacey lifts her gaze to meet his, her eyes puffy and red, her plump lips swollen. She wipes her nose with the back of her palm. “I had nothing to report, until now.”

His grasp tightens around her chin, forcing her head back to look at the text flickering on the monitor. “All this talk about a better world, I thought this is what you wanted.”

She snaps her head back to glare at him, eyes narrowing with disgust and anxiety. “You thought I’d like this?! This is sick!”

August’s nostrils flare yet he gives a gentle nod of understanding and hushes her sudden surge of stress. His hand caresses her round, damp face. The thick pads of his thumbs wipe the salty tears away from her skin and his body presses into hers. 

Even a tremoring mess, she is still so soft and warm. 

“Did you ever love me?” 

His lips are merely an inch from her temples as he whispers. His large hand slides down her cheek, stroking down her jaw and descending further below her chin.  

Unable to muster another lie, she remains silent, aware of the fact that the sand in the hourglass has all but diminished, along with her chances of survival.

Words are unnecessary. The truth speaks loudly in her eyes, the poisonous infidelity was always there all along. Struck by her angelic beauty he was too blind to see, leeching onto false heaven, a childish fantasy of love that never existed.

Small spots of blood begin to form in her wide-open eyes as his long fingers lock around her thin neck, squeezing with intensifying force. Tighter, harder. His name remains caged in her throat as she fights for the air she thinks she deserves. 

“No, you didn’t.” August whispers, his vision beginning to blur. “You never did.”

Strangled yips of pain wheeze through her mouth. Struggling frantically while August hardly even bats an eyelid, staring at her with no emotion on his face. Desperate arms reach out to both heaven and hell, her body squirms and her eyes plead for August to let go. 

Begging for her life.

Something breaks inside her throat. Her last breath follows, a short gasp, frozen in her body for eternity as both her heart and her eyes become still. 

August glances at her pale skin, her gaping lips stained violet, her bloodied eyes glassy, returning his broken reflection.

Sorrowful tears roll down the lines of his face as his heart pumps with pain black as tar. A loud gasp of agony rips from him, shuddering across his entire existence as the very base of his soul chars in his chest. Broken, he falls to his knees with Lacey cradled in his arms, his hand stroking her dull hair and her blue cheeks while husky cries of anguish come through his throat.

All emotions end. An empty abyss claims the spot where his soul once laid. The only thing left to him now is pure, undistilled hatred.

~*~

I am the one who reigns in hell.

~*~

Black cold liquid seeps into weary lungs. Skeletal hands caress his face unkindly, the thin bones, so hard and frozen as they travel down his grey cheeks. No grace is given to him, no redemption. This was nothing but a dream of a life. 

As tar oozes from his throat, her voice continues to call for him. 

His last memories are of Erica, sitting on her throne of lies, swallowing his accusations while peering at him through her dark eyes. Face filled with guilt, oh, she didn't have a clue. Everyone believed Lacey Hartmann was the double agent this entire time. Angelic eyes hiding dark secrets. He planted the evidence in her house, in her computer, sparing his manifest of course. Just enough to tarnish her name forever. 

A painful wheeze splits his throat. Iron tinged his tongue. 

The promotion was won right after the body was cremated. A fine medal given for having his life put at risk.  

Glory and fame won over the woman you loved.

I never loved her. She was a lying whore, she betrayed me.

But you did love me, August. 

Blood spills through his mouth as he coughs. His blue eyes shoot open, peering at a great hole in the ceiling and the dust that floats calmly in the chill air of night. The pain sears his shoulder, throbbing furiously to remind him there is still blood running through his veins. He grunts as he clutches at the gaping wound, trying to hold onto the blood that still remains in his wretched heart. 

Run and hide, little Ingvild

I am no one but Lucifer himself. 

I will have my vengeance.  

__________________________________________________

Disclaimer: I don’t own Mission Impossible franchise or August Walker

[bunny-bts]

Never Want To Hurt You Pt II

Author: Idk how long or short this part will be to be honest lol

Warnings: same as previous chapter part I , add injury and accident, coma, polygamy?, Cheating

Pairings: I think this has taken a turn for future Jimkook x reader

It had been weeks since you had came back and since your birthday at dinner you and Taeyhung hadn't spoken much. You've known each other for your entire lives so there was nothing of you haven't been through, and yes you have been pissed at each other before but this was different. You had been walking around giving each other cold shoulders, certain everyone noticed. He had tried to speak to you and talk it out once he noticed you had gone out several times with Jimin and JK and was noticing things heat up between the three of you more and more. You shared a bedroom with him, again, something you had done more than enough to be used to and didn't mind. Only now the two of you weren't snuggled up like any other time, you were sleeping back to back and sharing a bed with Taeyhung with him not protectively holding you was not something you liked. You hadn't paid attention but the two makneas didn't like it either, that you weren't sleeping with them, or that they would be relieved to know you slept so distantly.

"I'm going to go potty, I'll meet you out there," you laugh as you walk out of the theater screening room with the maknaes and turn toward the restroom as they buy slices of pizza and drinks at concession then go outside. Today you decided to all match each other and wear print tops that you had found while window shopping, it was fun and so cute you thought.

They go out and find a table up against a fence to sit while you all eat and they wait on you. You weren't there right now so they could drop a facade they had going on as of late. Jimin, with a friendly smile although faker than tits in California as it was, throws a elbow on Jungkook's shoulder, "back off," he forces a chuckle. "Why? Why don't you make me?" Jungkook returns the same smile. "It's been six weeks, it's time one of us made a move, don't you think?" "I agree," the youngest smirks. "We can't just race over and bombard her, she will get nervous. How should we do it?" He adds. "Hmm, good point....it seems little Kookie is growing up," Jimin teases. "I'm a grown man, I assure you," Jungkook growls through gritted teeth and a toothy smile. "Are you now? You have a ponytail-" "she will need something to hang onto," Jungkook winks, "she's coming, be cool." He smiles at you and waves to show you where they are. "Oh it's funny because of irony-," Jimin starts as he waves and smiles at you too. "Yes, I know it is asking a lot Jimin, but please try your best," Jungkook straightens out his jean jacket as you approach. "oh and Jimin..." "Yeah?" "Don't fall" "What?" Jimin asks before being pushed off of the table he sat on top of. Before he is able to retaliate you're there and giggling.

"Jimin, poor thing," you giggle and offer him a hand up. "You're always falling, sit on the seat," you advise as you sit on the seat attached to the table and lean your back on the table itself, grabbing the soda they had gotten you from it and taking a sip.

"Y/N, ya~, sit on my lap. Seat is uncomfortable," Jungkook grabs your waist and sits you on his lap. He wasn't wrong, it was one of the picnic tables you see at playgrounds, metal with bar patterns. "Aww, so sweet thankyou Kook, haha~ people will think we are together" "maybe~," he laughs and sends Jimin a glance as he places a hand on your thigh and starts rubbing your leg. Jimin is still smiling but you can't see or hear him really growl behind his lips, he casually moves Jungkook's hand and places his on your thigh. "We really like you Jagi," he says sweetly, leaning in a bit. "I really like you both too, I have two thighs," you giggle and glance down, the youngest man easily takes the hint and places his hand on your other. "Oh, she is naughty," Jimin laughs as they both with their thumbs. The three of you definitely look really touchy, maybe like a polygamous couple. This was different, you hadn't had anyone fawn over you the way these two did and shit did you like it. It is quiet for some moments, you all just eat and relax. At some point you start playing with their fingers.

"Jagi~, what are you doing Aien?" You feel Jungkook's breath against your ear.

"Do you like our hands?" Jimin's is against your other.

"Yes," you say simply, probably blushing and trying to play it off with a smirk, "you have really pretty fingers," you stop abruptly and stand. "We should go, it's getting late"

"Yeah, hold our hands princess," they both reach out and grab one of your hands and the journey home begins. At some point you all have to cross the street so you have to let go and run but a rogue out of control car spins around and hits you.

"Y/N!!"

The time couldn't pass any slower for the two of them when you're brought to the hospital. You're in critical condition so they aren't allowed to see you and are left waiting on the others to come.

"What. Happened?" They find themselves slammed against the walls with Taeyhung having a firm grip on thier throats and unable to breathe as they are pretty sure that with the way Tae's nose is flaring there may as well be smoke.

"Tae! Let them go! You're going to kill them," Namjoon and Jin rush behind him and fight to pull him off.

"I WANT ANSWERS"

"You're going to get them, let them....regain color...," Namjoon soothes one friend as he looks to the other two. "What happened guys?"

The two youngest explain and Taeyhung excuses everyone else to go after several hours pass. Reluctantly they go and tell Taeyhung, Jimin and Jungkook to keep them updated. Which they do, they find themselves there for three days once you get admitted into the hospital, they all stay by your side and the other guys pop in time to time to visit as well but JK and Jimin weren't allowed to stay overnight. Taeyhung was literally the only thing you had remotely close to family by the hospital's definition since your aunt was no longer around.

"Now may I speak?" He asks you, he was alone with you at the moment and you had been in a coma. "I have been trying to explain....," He pulls a chair by your bed and strokes your baby hairs, "I know that you're mad about our birthday......I know you told me that you liked me and I know I hurt your feelings.....I did it because.....I never want to hurt you....," He leans in and kisses your forehead. "Please wake up soon.....you have changed. So much....," He glances at your fine 'baby hairs', "I remember when you looked like a peach," he giggles.

"You hurt her feelings so you wouldn't hurt her?" Jungkook says from the door.

"You wouldn't understand, Jungkook."

"Try me."

"Why are you back already?" Tae gets up and goes over to the other side of the room. "What's that?" He points with his head to Jungkook's hand. "Squish mellow....," Jungkook replies and takes the seat that his friend had just had.

"I promised I would never hurt her again"

Jungkook simply looks at him with a raised brow, "you know.....you know why she and I get along so well? Everyone treats us like children, and we aren't. Taeyhung, when she wakes up, I am going to ask her to be my girl and I would like your blessing....," He receives no answer, only Taeyhung standing and walking out. Maybe that was his way of avoiding giving a answer, or maybe he was just telling Jungkook to watch you for a while because he hadn't been able to sleep. He goes to the hotel room he had gotten basically across the street from the hospital, the room he had specifically requested was directly across from yours.

Flopping on the bad he closes his eyes.

"Taeyhung, sit down baby. This is Y/N," his mother smiles at him, holding a blanket in her arms with a baby inside it. "Want to hold her baby?" "Yes," he giggles. "Okay, you have to sit down and be very still first," his mom instructs, smiling back over her shoulder at your parents. He hops into a chair and sits as still and motionless as he can and your dad is trying his very best to hold back laughter. You cry before his mom can hand him over to you, only to stop when your aunt steps forward and takes you. He laughs and soon your aunt is handing you to him and showing him how to be gentle and hold your head. He holds you just fine for a moment, then you stretch and he accidentally drops you. His mom dives to the floor just barely catching you. "She's alright," she announces.

Tae shoots up, sitting bolt right again unable to sleep. He realizes that he is pouring sweat then looks around before getting up and walking past the giant window. He stops and moves the blinds, seeing you, in the bed at the hospital across from him and still in a coma. He sighs and takes a shower before trying sleep again.

"Y/N? What are you doing?" He stops short. You were peering around a corner into the kitchen where your dad sat sobbing. He comes up behind you to watch, "why is he crying?" "I don't know.....Oppa...," You step out so your dad can see you. "Y/N.....come here," your dad calls you over. You look to Tae who shrugs before going over to him. It was almost three in the morning, why was your dad like this? "Nae salang...." "Yes?" He watches the man smile at you, holding your waist. "You are twelve now, you're going to be trying many new things in just a few years, listen closely." You nod. "Your mother and I are no more-" "Why?" "Because I don't want to hurt you nae salang, understand?" You shake your head no. "You will be living with your aunty, here, for the time being," he kisses your forehead and gets up, he kisses your aunt on the lips by the door on the way out. Leaving you standing there very confused and Tae who is a little older and more versed on the world wide eyed in shock.

He finds himself tossing around and punches the pillow.

"Tae!! Tae!! Tae!!" He turns to see you running towards him outside of the school grounds. You jump into his arms, and he catches you. You had been gone the last eight months to stay with your mom in the states but it was finally summer which means you had months to be together. "Tae, I heard there is going to be a dance?" "Yeah, tommorow night, why?" "Well~," you swing his hand and bite your lip and he sees that happy twinkle in your eye. "Well?" "Ask me~, fine~, Kim Taeyhung, please go with me to the dance?" ".........No," that was it, that was the moment. "No?" "No, the dance is for a girl that you like and you're my sister basically so no," he lies because he remembers the night your dad was crying and he now being about to graduate understood your dad's reasoning. He didn't want to show feelings for you to someday accidentally hurt you, he had remembered what happened when you were born.

He couldn't do it, sleep was out of the question. He walks to the window to see that you still hadn't woken up. He leans his head on the glass and bangs his fist on it. Jungkook was holding the stuffed animal and leaning in, saying something to you then he smiles and uses the animal like a pillow, lying down next to you. Tae slides to the floor unable to stop the tears, "I....I never want to hurt you!"

Meanwhile in your room, JK was leaning over, "I got you a Squish mellow....ladies like those, right? But I'm going to use it like a pillow first, okay?" He giggles and lays down beside you.

"Still hasn't woken up?" Jimin strolls in, to be answered with the shake of a head. He comes to sit by the bed. "Why did you have to get her one of those?" He responds to Jungkook's confused expression by pulling another Squishmellow from inside his trench coat and tucking it under your arm, kissing your forehead. "I was thinking......you can ask her to be your girl....."

"I was thinking too......." "Yeah?" "Why don't we both ask her?" "Wouldn't that make you and I-" "Not necessarily, it would just mean that we would both protect her. If we had just kept holding her hands, she wouldn't be here....," Jimin nods in agreement. "So, we are going to ask her to be our girl"

"We should ask Taeyhung first"

"I did?"

"and?"

"I don't know, he didn't say anything,....Jimin..."

"Hmm?" Jimin glances over at him, he had been looking to his feet. One was tapping anxiously.

"I miss her...."

"Me too...."

[evermorehaikyuu]

Day 9

Title: The King of the Castle

Note: No warnings here either, no one dies, unfortunately because that would’ve made the angst better. Anyways, here it is, the Kageyama angst! I have a plan for Hinata’s tomorrow, I’m so excited for it. Enjoy. 

˜”*°•.˜”*°•.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

In this world, you weren’t allowed to have your pride get in the way of someone asking if you needed help. It was obviously seen as rude and sometimes reputation-threatening. Or, in Kageyama Tobio’s case, loveless and seen as an outcast. He became better and better with each set and play, but stepped on people as he rose to the top. That was the behavior of a king, earning his nickname.

Through middle school, he stayed away from other people. Actually, other people stayed away from him just because of the aura around him. It was not inviting at all.

Even with all of this and the warnings, Y/N decided to give him a chance. It may have been the best decision of her life at that moment, but soon she’d come to realize that it was Kageyama himself that helped her see who were the people she could actually be around.

In the meantime, she started hanging around Kageyama, going after him. He would’ve been blind to not see her bouncing around him. One day, he couldn’t take it. “What do you want from me?”

“Well, I just want to be around you, is that so wrong?” Y/N said, huffing as she crossed her arms. “Listen, you don’t hang out with anyone, you’re always alone and besides that, you’re always sleeping in class, which, by the way, does not help your grade at all. You’ll have to keep them up if you want to continue playing volleyball.”

Every single one of these sentences pierced him like an arrow. It was the cold and harsh truth but he preferred not to say it out loud out of fear that the reality would hit him in the face. So he stuck to what he knew. “How do you even know I play volleyball?”

“You’re the prodigy, aren’t you? That’s why you’re alone, you’re the King of the Court, Kageyama Tobio.” Y/N tapped her chin with her fingers, grinning up at him. 

Kageyama didn’t say anything but that nickname made him grimace every time he heard it. He didn’t like it and yet it fit him. It would follow him around like a chain and ball shackled to his ankle. There was no way to break it. “I’m alone because no one can keep up with me.”

“Which is your problem, you need to slow down! Not everyone can be like you, King.” She stuck her tongue out at him and he was strongly reminded of his old mentor, Oikawa Tooru. 

“What’s your name?” Good, stick to the basics. Maybe she’ll leave. Or maybe….she’ll stay. He found himself wanting her to still be around him. Maybe it was fondness from his heart but something about her was alluring enough for him to want her to stay around him and not be like the rest of the people in the hallways. 

“I’m Hinata Y/N!” 

And thus, the king had found his princess, but the question was how long would he be able to keep her? Would she leave out of her own accord? Or would it be his fault that she left him? He shook his head, trying to get those thoughts out of his head with no avail. Pushing them away for another day, he looked down at the girl who was talking about something.

“….My brother plays volleyball but he’s the only one on his team that actually knows what he’s doing. Everyone else tries their best, of course, but I think he’d be better on a team where the others can challenge him to be better.”

So her brother plays volleyball. Maybe she plays volleyball as well. 

With this thought in mind, they kept walking along, her talking and him nodding from time to time.

~

“You’re failing math, aren’t you?” Y/N rubbed her forehead. Already in their third year of junior high, they were close to graduating and heading to the next phase in their lives. Kageyama and Y/N had been good friends for two years, but his nature had not changed much. He was still called the King of the Court and it was a wonder as to how Y/N could even be around him.

Kageyama grunted, sipping at his milk. Y/N slumped her head onto his desk, sighing deeply. “Look, we need to fix that grade or they’re kicking you off of the volleyball team.”

“We have another test coming up–” His eyes widened as he recalled the date of the test that would make or break his volleyball reputation. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?! Oh God, we’ll never make it, you’re gonna fail, Tobio. I love you a lot, but give it up, you’re gonna fail.” Y/N groaned.

Kageyama sighed in frustration, knowing that there was no way he could pass in such a short amount of time. Unless… “Y/N, why don’t you tutor me? I’ll be able to pass with you as my tutor, I know it.”

Y/N tilts her head, staring at him. “Okay, fine, I give in, let’s do it.”

~

Kageyama had passed his test and he was still on the volleyball team, but the problem with his mentality arose again after losing his tournament. He had a dark shadow over his face as Kindaichi said, “It was just one loss, we can fix–”

“No! We can’t fix it, why aren’t any of you faster, my sets are so easy to spike! You have to move faster, jump higher, anything, just make sure to HIT THAT BALL!” His voice rose higher with those last three words before being taken aback at what he said. 

Y/N had arrived and dragged him out of his team’s vicinity. She crossed her arms and stared at him. “Are you hearing yourself? You’re getting back at your king tendencies, I thought we got over this.”

“Yeah, but none of them move faster, if it wasn’t for them, we would’ve won, Y/N!” He tried to get it through her head, but unlike the brother he’d soon meet, Y/N was incredibly stubborn and ruthless when it came to her thoughts. 

“Have you ever thought about the fact that your team is trying their best and maybe you’re going too harsh on them?”

“I am not! I’m being perfectly precise with them and–”

“NO. No, Tobio, that’s not how a team works! You have to communicate and that’s not the only thing you have to do! Practice can only take you so far, it’s how you get along with your team that will help you in your games! This is why they call you the king of the court, you can hardly control your temper and you expect everyone else to do things for you, when you can barely do simple things yourself!”

That was the last straw. Every single bit of anger rushed out of him and was poured into every single one of his next words. “What would you know about any of this? You don’t have anyone else, if it wasn’t for me, you’d be alone. You shouldn’t be talking about being alone, that’s hypocrisy.”

“Oh, so now you’re being smart? Use your head, Tobio.” She clenched her fists, trying to control herself. “Listen, we don’t have to go further with this–”

“No. You think that I care about any of them. They’re just there to help me. You? You were never a part of me, you never changed anything about me so don’t think you have the right to go around, parading about how you changed me.”

“I wasn’t going to! Tobio, I did all of that because I care about you!” Her voice cracked with the last word. Her heart started hurting. Here she was, fighting with her best friend about something so quizzical and he was fighting back, unleashing all of his rage towards her. She could say that he didn’t mean it, but deep down, she knew he meant every word. 

“I don’t care about you. No one does.” He spat, the words now irreversible and hanging between them. It was as if the world around them had paused and not in a good way. The look in Y/N’s eyes made him wish he could take back his words and he regretted it.

Swallowing dryly, Y/N’s voice shook as she started speaking. “I was scared of this happening. I shouldn’t have believed you could’ve changed. You’re just another tyrant.”

“Wait, Y/N–” He reached out for her, but she turned away from him. 

“Don’t. Please. I’m not another one of your victims, I don’t want to be one of them.” He could hear the tiniest sniffle as she wiped her eyes and started walking away from him.

It was that easy to lose your best friend. He could hear himself screaming in his head, pleading for him to go after her and tell her that she was everything to him, that he was terrified of being anywhere without her. But his feet stayed glued to the floor, the feeling of helplessness getting worse and worse as he watched her receding back. Looking down at his hands, he gulped, trying not to break. The last time he felt pain like this was when his grandfather died. 

The internal oath he had made about not hurting her, void. She was just a shadow at first to him before becoming someone he trusted wholeheartedly. He wanted to love her, but could barely understand anything outside of volleyball. What he did understand is that loss affected him gravely. Irreversible. Worthless. All of that chided him as he hung his head, silent tears coming out of his eyes and pooling onto the floor.

How many more people could he afford to lose?

~

Taglist: @skyguy-peach​ @jovialnoise​ @versatilewindow​ @tsukiibaka​ @jaegersblogh​ @kodzuken-pie​ @sugusho​ @kara-grayson04​ @erialexerz​ @attixca​ @volleybloop​ @selca11​

[cornfarm]

isjeishwish plz tell us more about anzai-chi

like her relationship with the another characters

also ur drawingstyle is 🥺🥺🥺

OMG i'm so happy you asked!!! i'm so happy people care abt her, and thank you!!!! :DD

i'll give some fun facts about her and then talk a bit abt her relationships! i wrote a LOT so i put most of it under a cut! i'll give anyone who reads it all a cookie lol

--

her planets name is mezpria! she calls herself a mezprian.

anzai is usually seen carrying around a mop. she usually has it slung across her shoulders carrying bags. shes very skilled in spearsmanship, so she sometimes swings around her mop for fun, and people with keen eyes for fighting recognize her precision with her strokes.

that being said, she does have a spear! i mentioned that she could channel thunder to strike, this spear is what allows her to do so. when she swings it and a certain speed, it creates a line of static, and lightning will strike whatever connects, or is closest to that line. because of how dangerous it is to be put in the wrong hands, she keeps it under her bed in her apartment.

her extensive use of it during the war is what caused her hearing problems. she's not entirely deaf, but she does miss things if people speak too quietly. she does know sign language! she teaches the yorozuya some so they can gossip about people across the room.

this does mean though, that she fights frequently with simply a mop. it's a similar gag to gintoki's wooden sword, but when people say she's holding a mop, she just tilts her head and says "this is a spear?".

this is her and her spear:

sougo thinks she's funny because hijikata HATES her. he's always pissed off about how she's skirting perfectly around the law, and manages to avoid being arrested. he even hates her more because he really likes a certain type of cigarette she sells. she sells them in packs of 20, and they're made from a type of fermented, then dried wheat from her home planet.

he'll come into the shop yelling about he's "gonna arrest her and she better watch out" while buying cigarettes. the only quality he'll ever admit to liking about her is that she never comments on his hypocrisy, and that she doesn't (outwardly) judge him for his food choices.

other than hijikata, the rest of the shinsengumi is relatively neutral about her. sougo does find her antics very amusing. he definitely comes to her shop like "miss anzai will you please teach me how to roll cigarettes <3" and then puts cyanide in one for hijikata. then when it's the one she picks up to smoke he punches her so that she doesn't. maybe he hangs around because he can sense how mischevous she is.

she's always eager to teach people things about her culture and how she runs her shop! as much as she's eager to teach sougo, she also ends up teaching shinpachi and kagura lots of stuff as well. she would never say she's maternal, or a mother figure, but there's something about the way she explains things, and brings them food, and gives advice that get a "thanks mom".

sometimes she gets it from gintoki too, but when he says it she looks at him very sadly. she HATES being called mom and scolds them for it.

speaking of gintoki, i'm tired of a harem, so he likes her! it's entirely unclear to everyone if she reciprocates. she shows just enough interest to suggest she might have feelings, but she's so distant it's hard to tell. even though his kids tease him by saying shit like "please don't lower your standards to someone as low as him," to her, theyre all secretly rooting for him.

she initially met them because she needed some people to help her move and decorate her shop. they asked her why she didn't hire a moving company instead. she says there wasn't a particular reason, but she had been lingering outside their shop for a solid week before talking to them. they definitely noticed and were like "whats with this chick", especially cause she would just stand there and stare up at the sign trying to muster the courage. she really wanted to meet people and try to make some friends!

she pays them so well they actually do an okay job! anzai thanks them, and tells them they're allowed to come by anytime, and she'll give them a discount for anything they'd like. they come by very often, gintoki particularly likes the alcohol she sells, as a lot of it is very sweet, so they frequently drink together at night.

she also brings them food often. it's an easy way for her to express gratitude and affection. she's pretty poor at cooking japanese food at first, but she learns quickly!

her and gintoki have a lot in common, the biggest aspect of their relationship being their sense of humor! she's always amused by the things he says, and it's very reciprocated. he likes that her humor is so similar- they end up bonding really quick. they do banter a bit, but a lot of their interactions are enabling each other. he teases her a lot.

kagura and shinpachi don't like the way they talk to each other. kagura says their weirdness rubs off on each other too much, whereas shinpachi is simply baffled about how there's someone who can match his energy so well.

heres a silly comic i made:

anzai does give him these judgemental looks sometimes, but they're done playfully. when he does cross a line and piss her off, she just disappears, always managing to be away when he looks for her. when they fight it's miserable to watch because gintoki's too stubborn to talk to her, and she's too freaked out by emotional confrontation.

they're all very thankful anzai is a little bit responsible and always makes up with them. gintoki frequents her shop and is like, "hey, i'm not here for you. give me 5 of those little bread things, three of them strawberry and the other two peach. that's what i'm here for, not for you. are you free later?" and then lingers around way too long.

she tries to give otae cooking lessons, masked by a "let me teach you how to make a classic mezprian dish ^__^" in an attempt to alleviate shinpachi from his despair. she manages to screw up even simple recipes so she just shrugs at him.

one time katsura's ronin try to assassinate her because they heard crazy rumors about her war crimes and exploits and she just looks at him like "can you stop trying to kill me please." eventually he's like "my bad lol we heard a bunch of crazy rumors about you" and she's like "those are all true :)"

she gets very silly and happy when drunk, so her and gintoki have a lot of fun drinking together. although sometimes she tries to tackle him, she doesn't have the arm strength when she's drunk, so he always ends up just swinging her around. she's definitely gotten a concussion at some point.

she also tends to crash with him, so when shinpachi sees her sneaking out in the early morning she always gaslights him into thinking he was seeing things.

hasegawa, gintoki, and her gamble often! she's pretty well off so she's not too worried about money, so she just thinks its fun. when they tell her to start stripping so they can continue gambling something away and she's like "absolutely not" and then takes her apron off.

i feel like i've spoken really only highly of her, but despite how she's generally liked and beloved by many, she's painfully distant. she's always a few steps out of reach from everyone, and because of that she feels like an outsider. heres another drawing of her:

most people call her anzai(-san), but otae and hasegawa call her yae, while kagura calls her yae-chan. sougo commonly calls her boss, and gintoki calls her a slew of shitty nicknames, most commonly with her lastname, since it uses the kanji for "toki". she calls almost everyone by their first name with no honorifics.

AND THATS IT!!! i can definitely think of a hundred more scenarios with her and different cast members but i've already written so much ;__;

if you've read this far i'm giving u ur cookie of choice

[goldenretriever-nicknelson]

Blurbmas ~ Day 8 (P.P)

A/n: Day 8 and yes it’s a Hogwarts AU blurb! this doesn’t tie in with the AU I’m writing I just had the idea and really wanted to write it. I made it house neutral so you can decide yours and Peter’s own Hogwarts houses in this one (even though he’s hufflepuff imo).

WC: 1.3k 

Warnings: none :)

Peter’s hands shook as they straightened out his dress robes for the 5th time that evening. He was staring at himself in the mirror, wondering to himself how he had got here. He was about to take the girl of his dreams to the school dance and not just any school dance; the Yule Ball. 

The Yule Ball was a tradition at whichever school was hosting the Triwizard tournament; a dangerous competition that pitted magical schools against each other to fight for the Triwizard cup. Peter purposefully hadn’t signed himself up, it was dangerous and stupid and even though he had powers that didn’t mean he should use them. 

But going to the Yule Ball was something that Peter had been looking forward to. As much as he hated school dances, this time he actually had someone in mind to go with. He’d spent weeks brainstorming with Ned about how to ask you since you had been his crush since 4th Year. Every idea didn’t seem good enough and every plan he had failed spectacularly.

It was exactly one week before the dance after his head of house had just given them dancing lessons that he felt brave enough to do it. He didn’t plan it, didn’t have some grand idea, he just asked the question as it slipped from his lips in Potions class.

You turned to him in surprise. You’d only just asked Peter to pass you an ingredient so you could finish your potion and he’d said those 8 words that you had spent all term thinking about. Peter was sweating and it had little to do with the heat of the cauldron as it boiled beneath him. 

“Yes, I’d love to.” You whispered and rested your hand over his with a large smile. Peter returned your smile as he grinned from ear to ear and jumped a little on the spot which earned a look from Snape. 

“That’s great.” Peter smiled and went back to helping you with the potion. The smile never left either of your faces for the rest of the lesson. 

And now here he was ready to head downstairs and meet you. He gave one last look in the mirror before Ned pulled him in the direction of the door and left the common room. 

The school’s halls were really decked. There was a christmas decoration on every wall and corner, even the moving staircase railings were wrapped in sparkly tinsel. Peter smiled as he headed downstairs, a pit of nerves building in his stomach the closer he got yet he couldn’t feel more excited. 

Ned almost tripped down the stairs as he rushed towards Betty who looked pretty in a simple pink dress. She was standing with MJ and a few other girls from their year including you. The moment Peter saw you his jaw dropped.

You were like a dream in a perfect long dress that matched the colour of your Hogwarts house. Your hair was just as beautiful as the dress, done up in a simple updo with a few strands of hair framing your face. 

Peter could hear his heart picking up pace, feel his hands clamming up and sweating as much as his curls were and he swore for a moment that you had literally taken his breath away. Ned looked back at him and furrowed his brow. 

“Dude are you okay?”

Peter nodded sheepishly and blushed darkly as he realised his gaze had been fixed on you. He made the rest of the way downstairs and walked towards you, hoping you wouldn’t notice as he wiped his hand on his dress robes. 

“H-hi Y/n, you look beautiful.” 

You blushed and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, smiling wide. “You don’t look too bad yourself Parker.” Your comment made you both laugh and Peter felt the nerves start to slowly leave his system. It was just you and Peter was comfortable with you, probably more so than anyone else. 

Peter took your hand in his and kissed the back of it sweetly. You giggled and blushed hard, gazing back at him in a lovingly way. It wasn’t long before the doors opened and everyone start filing in, the champions waiting until last so they could lead the dance. 

Peter had never been more thankful not to be a champion than in that moment. He watched them dance across the floor, some stumbling more than others as the music played. It was only then that a thought hit Peter. He was going to have to dance with Y/n. 

It wasn’t that Peter was terrible at dancing but he’d stepped on too many toes over the years to claim to be good at it. Even with his powers Peter just looked awkward when he danced, much like a struggling fish out of water. 

Before he knew it the professors and more students had made their way onto the dance floor, spinning and twirling around to the song. Peter felt his palms sweat again and you must have noticed because you turned to him and kissed his red cheek.

“We don’t have to dance Pete.” 

Peter looked at you sweetly and smiled, considering his options. He could just go and get drinks with you and talk but he could see how much you wanted to be out there on the floor with your friends and tonight was about making you happy so Peter made up his mind. He led you onto the dance floor and started dancing with you. 

You giggled happily and danced around with him, both of you deciding not to take it too serious and instead choosing to be a little crazy. Peter had never had more fun dancing than he did with you. Both of you laughed and smiled all through the night, sugar filling your system from the punch bowl and snacks. 

Eventually Peter and you decided to get some fresh air away from the crowd. You led Peter outside, being able to tell that it was getting a little much for him with all the different sounds and senses going off. 

Peter smiled at your thoughtfulness and walked with you through the snow. You didn’t even seem to care that you were in heels and a dress as you walked hand in hand. You swung your hands together as you walked past the beautiful scenery that was Hogwarts in the snow and past hormonal teenagers making out in the back of carriages or behind school walls. 

You and Peter giggled before stopping at an overlook point. You could see the great lake and the quidditch pitch from here, all of it looked almost unreal in the snow. 

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” You noted, your eyes transfixed on the glorious view. Little did you realise that Peter’s eyes weren’t looking where yours were anymore but instead at you. To him you were the only view he needed in that moment. 

Your hair was slightly littered with snowflakes, making it look even prettier. Your smile was twice as wide as when the night had started and sparkled more than the ice that shone on the great lake. You were perfect. 

“Yeah it is.” Peter sighed happily and squeezed your hand in his, kissing your cheek so gently that it felt like the touch of a feather. You blushed and smiled wide before turning to face Peter who’s cheeks were just as red as yours. 

Just then as if by magic, something twinkled above you and a sparkle caught your eye. You both looked up and giggled.

“Mistletoe.” Peter whispered and looked back at you, his hand shaking a little from the nerves that had once again reared their head. You bit your lip and nodded, still smiling at the nervous boy in front of you who looked who you felt on the inside. 

Now or Never, Peter thought and started to lean in closer to you. He took a deep breath as you leaned into and he knew that this was it. You both met in the middle, your lips meeting in a perfect harmony as the snow fell around you and the mistletoe sparkled above in the archway. The kiss made you both feel warm and fuzzy despite the cold air outside. 

When you finally both pulled away, you giggled and smiled goofily at each other, Peter held you close in his arms, his cold hands cupping your rosy cheeks.

“That was-” You took a breath and smiled, your warm breath visible in the cold air. You tried to find the right words but none came to mind, you were speechless as you gazed at Peter.

He knew it was cheesy but there was only one way to describe the kiss.

“Magical.” He finished for you, pecking your lips again and sighing happily as he kissed you again. 

Even though you could hear the music playing from the Great Hall and all the sounds of the castle, it felt like there was no one else in the world but you as your lips met again. 

~~~~~~

Taglist

Permanent - @eeyore101247​ @geminiparkers​ @darlingspidey​ @ameelia​ @calltothewild​ @parkerpeter24​ @rebekkah4766​ @peaches-parker​​ @tom-hlover​ @parker-hollandx​ @call-me-baby-gir1​ @cosmicvibecheck​ @outshineallthestars​ @theliterarymess​

Peter Parker ~ @teen--marvel​ @musicalkeys​ @spideyspeaches​​ @kickingn-ames​ @shakespeareanqueer​

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Erase All The Downsides - FOUR

Word count: 1,665

Tags: Anxiety; subspace; emotional hurt/comfort

Intro ; ONE ; TWO ; THREE

It ruins him.

Seeing her absolutely ruins him.

She lives behind his eyes. She takes up full residence in his dreams, unyielding on his brain. He finds himself driving by the shelter more times than he cares to admit, trying to catch a glimpse of her, if only for a second. It makes his skin itch when he doesn't. There's a pack of Peach gum sitting in his center console but he doesn't know which brand she gets, so they all smell slightly off. His brain hasn't been this mangled since those first few months.

When she told him that she couldn't handle being alone anymore, he didn't know what to do. He had been defensive where he should have been reassuring, he was cold where he should have been accepting, he was hurt where he should have been comforting. He was too stubborn to fight when she ended it. She was right. He knows that now. He left her messages unread for weeks before calling her when the need hit him. It wasn't fair, it was her holding their relationship together for those last few weeks.

When she was gone, the itch in his skin got so bad he was physically scratching at his arms. He couldn't leave the house without having a panic attack, he spent the entire next tour cooped up in his hotel room, trying to replicate the reassuring weight of her body with anything he could find. Most nights, Benny had to lay with him until he fell asleep otherwise he'd stay up all night scratching and crying. It was two weeks into his tour when he slept with someone else. He drank until he forgot why he was so sad, and when he woke up the world crashed down a little harder. He locked himself in the bathroom and sat in the shower for hours until the girl was gone and the hotel staff let Benny and Charlie into his room. After that, it felt impossible to call her.

Having her so far out of reach grates on his nerves for days. He refuses to touch Lisa and he snaps at everyone, it feels like backtracking.

He breaks when he shoves Sam. They were arguing over something or another, he can't even remember what. He was being combative because he could barely see in front of him with how blurry the anxiety was making his vision. Sam said something and Dean pushed him. He barely had time to register what he did before Benny was pulling him away.

"Dude, what the hell is going on?" Despite his language, his voice is soft and concerned. Dean shakes his head, his knees shaking. There was so much emotion crawling through his brain that he almost felt numb. Benny called his name over and over as he got into his car. He shouldn't be driving, he's too on edge, but it's all muscle memory at this point, and he can't stop once he has started.

It feels like a longshot, and if he is wrong he just might crack completely, but he pulls into the apartment complex with practiced ease. His feet carry him in a shuffle down the path, his fingers twitching on their own accord. He knocks on the door with rushed fervor, and nearly falls to his knees when it swings open and she's standing there, in front of him.

"Dean?" Castiel's voice is so soft and reassuring that it finally does send him to his knees. The contact with the ground hurts, but he barely feels it behind the relief that washes over him. This feels pathetic, utterly and truly pathetic, but he can't find it in himself to care because he feels lost and Cas is staring down at him.

"I'm sorry. I know it's been years and- and I don't even know if you're seeing someone, and I'm seeing someone, but I can't.... I can't... Please," he's crying and he can't stop.

"Come here, come inside," she lifts him from the ground and supports him as he stumbles forward.

"I'm having too much anxiety and I can't control it, I can't stop it!" He can't breathe.

"Alright, sweetheart, I hear you," she shushes him gently as she guides him over to the couch. "You sit and I'll be right back." He wants to whine and refuse, but most of all, he wants to be good. He sits down on her sofa, plush beneath him, and relaxed against it as best he can while she leaves the room. His stomach jumps like it wants to follow her, but he sits still. She is only gone for less than a minute before she is walking back into the room with a familiar looking weighted blanket. She set it on the couch, moved one of the pillows onto the floor, and gestured him down.

"On your knees, honey," Dean wants to roll his eyes back with a mix of pleasure and relief, but he settles for a tiny whimper as he slips down to the floor, settling his knees on the pillow. He looks up at her with wide eyes, waiting for her next instruction. She sits down in front of him, spreading her legs around him. The weighted blanket goes over his shoulders, draping down around him in a constant weight that works to ground him. Castiel sits back on the couch, her eyes trained on him.

"Lie down, honey," she pats her thigh and the strings are cut. He drops his head onto her thigh, his breath leaving him in one solid exhale. "You just sit there and breathe for me, okay? There is absolutely nothing else you need to do except sit here and be my good boy," her hands were in his hair, scratching gently at his scalp. A soft whine leaves him before he can stop it, he wiggles a bit to get comfortable, then his eyes close and it's easy to focus on her touch. The smell of citrus and firewood wraps around him almost as heavy and comforting as the blanket.

He doesn't remember falling asleep but when he opens his eyes, it's dark outside. Castiel is still sitting there, her hands still in his hair, her gaze focused on the tv. He shifts slowly, trying not to think about how numb his legs feel.

"You back with me?" She asks softly, all of her attention back on him. He blinks a few times, his head heavy. "Come up here, stretch your legs out," she scoots forward on the couch, moving the blanket off of him so it's easier to help him up. He wobbles a bit, unsteady, but her hands guide him down to the couch. She makes him bend his legs up and down, gently massaging them.

"Thank you," his voice is wrecked from sleep.

"Of course," she takes her hands off of him and he tries not to look too desperate when he reaches for her again. She takes his hand and allows him to link their fingers together as he slumps slightly, regaining his bearings.

"Cas," saying her name sends a warm thrill through his gut. "I'm really trying not to want you but It's getting really hard. I need you to tell me if you want me to leave or you don't want me too, because if you don't, I'll figure something out. I just can't keep pretending that I don't need you, that I don't miss you. I'll understand if it's been too long, or if you have someone else, I just have to try or I think I'll explode," he's rambling and he can't stop, the jitter is back in his bones.

"Dean, of course I want you. I've always wanted you, I just needed you to be as involved as I was. But, honey, it's you that has someone, not me," she said with a little, sympathetic, tilt of her head.

"I can't be with Lisa regardless of whether you take me back or not," he sighed, tilting his head down a bit. "she needs something that I can't give her and I need something she can't give me. It's too hard."

"I understand. I'll be here, Dean, whenever you're ready," she ran her thumb over the back of his hand and he fell boneless into the couch at her words.

"I'm so sorry, Cas, I shouldn't have neglected our relationship like I did. I was distracted and arrogant, and I stupidly thought that you'd always be there. You were always there for me and I was never there for you," he whispered, meeting her thumb with his own, gently pressing them together.

"That's not true, Dean," Cas said, sliding the smallest bit towards him on the couch. "You helped me through a lot of my depression, you were with me through all of my family drama, I wouldn't have made it out of that as unscathed without you there. It was just those last few months, when the paranoia of having a rockstar boyfriend doing God knows what, God knows where, with God knows who, started to creep up. I trusted you 100% but it's hard not to think about the possibilities," she said.

"I know, I want you to know that I never did anything with anyone while we were together. I wouldn't do that," Dean assured.

"I know," Cas nodded with a soft smile. "It was the perfect storm of distance, time, and arguments. I don't think either of us are to blame, but I still tear myself apart every once in a while for ending it so rash," she said.

"It's okay now," Dean whispered, looking down at their hands. "It'll be okay now." Cas leaned over their hands and pressed her forehead to his shoulder. She wouldn't do anything while Dean was still in a relationship, and he knew that. So, he settled for resting his temple on her head, closing his eyes as she breathed against his arm.