#I WAS SO PROUD THAT I COULD SEE THE PROBLEM AFTER ONLY A SECOND'S GLANCE

[hotchfiles]

— help me hold onto you • aaron hotchner

fem!reader, unprotected vaginal sex, a bit of angst.

      He knew he would be in trouble whenever he turned those keys. What he wasn’t expecting was how big the trouble would be. He had no idea he would open the door to three bags full of clothes and other things he left at your place as the months passed, waiting for him.

      “Darling? What–What are these?” He asks even though he knows the answer, hoping you want to at least talk about it before making any harsh decisions. You’ve been in a relationship for almost a year now and it works. It always worked.

      Normally you wouldn’t drink before an argument, still when he gets to the kitchen he sees you calmly sipping on a tall glass of wine, fingers tapping on the table, hair up, face clean but red, you were in your pajamas already, nothing like you probably looked hours before.

      “What’s the only thing I asked of you, Aaron?” You don’t move, don’t glance up at him, eyes focused solely on how the purplish red liquid moved in your glass, taking a big sip right after.

      Aaron sighs in frustration, he didn’t want this to become a fight. He was so tired. “I know, I’m sorry–”

      “Answer the question, please.”

      “Don’t make promises I can’t keep.” He takes his tie off quickly, suddenly feeling suffocated by the fabric surrounding his neck. That’s why your relationship worked, you knew he was busy and his schedule was unpredictable, so very early on you accepted it as it was, saying you wouldn’t be mad at him as long as he didn’t break any promises. If you’re not sure, don’t promise me you will be able to make it.

      First months he wouldn’t promise you anything, too afraid to break it, to disappoint you.

      He watches as you take the wine in a mouthful and refills the glass, the bottle now empty and starts getting frustrated, you’re a loud drunk and you’re surely already getting tipsy.

      This was the first time he slipped up, it didn’t need to be such a big deal, it didn’t avail to having his things right at the door as if he was getting kicked out. All the other times he promised he could take time off, he did it. Just–Teens were getting kidnapped, the team needed him.

      “We saved two girls today.” Low blow. But it was true, he wasn’t back in time because of that, he got on the jet instead of staying back to do that. To save two thirteen year old girls. Not some futile reason. It had to count for something.

      “I’m proud of you for that, Aaron. Are you proud of me? For the promotion we were supposed to celebrate with my boss? Or are our accomplishments only worth it when it’s about saving someone?” You raise your voice only slightly, the alcohol from the sweet wine getting to you slowly and then all at once.

      You always tried your best to keep your voice down when arguing with him, simply because he never raised his, and it could be an endearing feature if it didn’t look like he did it to look like the rational one, the right one.

      “That’s not what i said–”

      “I know what you said. You want to make the fact you let me down okay because you did a wonderful thing someplace else. That’s not how it works.” You open the second bottle of wine of the night, feeling his eyes on your back. “I want you to leave.”

      “You know this is ridiculous, you’re acting like a child.” Sore spot. You were a few years younger and that had never been a problem. But he couldn’t go back now, he could see the anger darkening your eyes, your knuckles turning white by the strength you’re using to grip on the edge of the table.

      “How am I a child?” You begin slowly and keeping your voice down, you get up finally from the chair you had been sitting, facing him directly, his instincts make him try to touch your arms, but you dodge it quickly. “We had an agreement. You broke it. Am I a child for not giving you permission to hurt me again?”

      He knows you’re about to snap, your chest coming up and down in rapid breaths, and he doesn’t feel particularly in the right, he knows he screwed up and he’s sorry, but your reaction is out of proportion to him, an exaggeration made to make him feel more guilty than he already does. “I said you’re acting like a child. The one time things don’t go your way and you’re packing me out?” Aaron almost feels the sharpness of a slap but he’s quick enough to grab your wrist. “See? proving my point.”

      “How many times do I have to accept you screwing up so I can be seen as mature?” You yank your arm out of his grip and go back to your drink, “Same times as Haley? How many times did she forgive you so you could go around and do it all again?”

      Lower blow.

      Hotch feels it right in his core and he’s angry at you for bringing up but more so angry at himself because you were right. Still, it is anger nonetheless that guides his next actions, quickly and firmly walking up to you, caging you against the table in sudden movements.

      Your breath hitches from the surprise, and your attempt to move is stopped by his roughed hands on your chin, firm but never close to hurting. “I’m not leaving.” You wince, not in fear of him, but of how easy he can make your mind go blank when he’s that close.

      His eyes go from your eyes to your lips, he notices your failed attempt to conceal the way you licked your lips, he glances at your chest, heavy breathing under your thin pajama shirt, nipples hardening against the fabric.

      Damn you for choosing wine.

      Hotch reads your mind almost, but his smirk doesn’t last too long displayed on his lips, your hands pulling him by the neck, a low groan followed by a “Fuck this” leaving your wine tasting lips just mere seconds before gluing to his.

      Eager to get your forgiveness, he is quick to follow your lead, both hands sneaking under your clothes, one down the waistband of your shorts, grabbing hard on the flesh of your ass, the other drawing soft circles on your nipple.

      You melt into the kiss, his lips, his hands, his scent, him. And you have no time to feel bad about it, pulled up to sit on the table, legs around his waist, you can feel how hard he is against your wetness.

      A pained whimper leaves his lips when you use the new position to grind onto him, needing something, anything against your clit at this point.

      Aaron sinks his teeth into your bottom lip to get your full attention, earning a loud moan in response, his hands travel your thighs and you pull his shirt out his pants so you can feel his skin under your fingertips, not bothering to unbutton them and working with what you got under it.

      His lips travel your neck and your collarbone, “I love you, so, so much”. His declaration comes in between kisses and the sucking of your skin, “Please don’t make me leave after this.” It comes in a whisper now, but he doesn’t stop, pushing your shorts down and sliding it down till it drops to the floor with your help.

      “Just shut up and take your pants off.”

  ��   “You know I can only do one of those.” It makes you laugh and you sink your nails to the bit of fat on his side, the tiniest bit of annoyance at how easy he had you in the palm of his hand and how he didn’t even seem to know it truly.

      On the edge of the table sliding his hard cock into your folds was an easy feat, pants, shoes and his boxers long gone, his socks stayed on almost making him lose balance as he feels just how wet you are. He drops his head, forehead on your shoulder

      “Fuck—Oh my god, you are so wet, you’re always so wet for me.” It isn’t arrogant, it’s appreciative almost, you move his head so you can look at him, hot, sweaty already, cheeks so red as his eyes were glassy, the mix of lust and love and regret clear in his dark caramel irises.

      You kiss him once more, sweet, forgiving and he takes this as his sign to continue, pushing you down the table, Hotch holds your thighs for support, plunging his cock into your wet cunt with ease, bottoming out at the first thrust. You enjoyed the stretching pain and you never had the patience to wait.

      Lower lips between your teeth, you slide one of your hands to your clit, two fingers working your arousal, quickly replaced by Aaron’s calloused fingers. You arch your back and moan loudly, “Fuck, yes, and move.”

      It feels like an order and for Hotch it is one, he is delighted to oblige, maintaining the same finger moves on your clit and beginning to fuck your pussy, strong, firm and precise at first.

      “Honey, fuck—Please…” His begging is meant to warn you that if you keep clenching around him he won’t be able to control himself, you almost don’t listen, fingers working on your own nipples enjoying the high he is always able to get you in.

      “Aaron—I’m… Fuck, don’t stop, you’re so good.”

      The praising, the guidance, the reassurance, it makes the moans leaving his lips seem like whining, he enjoys it too much.

      “Yeah? Like this?” The way your hands try to grab him is enough answer to him, along with how tight your pussy is throbbing against him, you’re almost there, he can feel it.

      His movements on your clit get sloppier, the sight and sound of your wetness against his digits making him go insane. Your back arches once more and your whole body begin to squirm, the tight coil in your lower belly finally ripping, “Yes, fuck—“ You’re breathless, weak, but you still have it in you to edge him in, “Aaron, baby, cum for me, please.”

      He would be crazy to do anything but, so quickly you ask him and his hands are hoisting both your legs over his shoulders, getting a new, deeper position, it doesn’t take long for you to feel him filling you up, “I can’t live without you, you’re so, so good for me” His lasts broken words before letting himself go.

      You don’t move and neither does he, his dick softening inside you, his hands caging you in the table and his head dropped to his chest, both just trying to recover.

      “Aaron?”

      “Yes, sweetheart?”

      “You can stay.” He looks at you with nothing but love and happiness and gratitude, “But if you screw up again do not try fucking me into forgiving you, I’ll chop your dick off.”

      “You like it too much to do that.” His grin is sincere, feeling finally free to joke around you, he gets out of you and you whine at the loss. “See?”

      “Bite me.”

      “Gladly.”

[strawberrychampayne]

i guess you aren't oblivious anymore?

bradley bradshaw x fem!reader

warnings: some swearing

word count: 2393 (I'm so proud lol)

summary: bradley wants her to forgive him but she's not letting go so easily. good thing he remembers something he told her a few months prior that might just win her over

ring ring ring

Glancing over at her phone she clicked the stop alarm button. Rolling over her shoulders slumped as she thought the past 2 days over in her mind. Bradley showing up the night before wasn’t something she was expecting. Had he really meant what he had said or was he just trying to get her to talk to him? 

As easy as it would be to maul over the previous night she had a job. One that took years of training she might add.

As she stood up she decided that she’d have enough time to go for a run before work. Something she did to clear her mind. The breeze that would sweep across her neck and shoulders would distract her from her problems even if it was only a half hour. Grabbing her purple sports bra and sweats she climbed into them, almost tripping and falling. Snatching her keys, phone and headphones she stepped out of her house. Narrowly missing the pink tulips that laid on the ground beside her feet. She missed them completely, not even sending them an accidental glance and took off. 

After running three and a half miles, sweat dripping down her body, Y/N returned home. As she walked up the door she glanced down and saw the flowers awaiting her. Freezing, she paused trying to unlock her door. She turned her head around to see if she could spot the sender. Was it Bradley? Did he actually remember her favorite flower? Did this mean-

Absolutely not. She was still mad at him. He was a dickhead when he wanted to be. Wrapping her hand around the stems, her hand felt wet. The morning dew coating the flowers and giving them a shine. I guess it was a start to an apology. Not that she cared about one, right? 

The water running down her sore body encased her in warmth. Pooling at the bottom of her shower and sliding down her drain. Washing away heaps of sweat and regret. She hated how showers made her reflect on things. Maybe it was because they warmed her up or maybe because they made her feel rejuvenated when she finished. She wondered if she had been too cold to Bradley. Maybe she could’ve heard him out. She didn’t want to stress herself out, she had work to do today. Turning up the soft music playing in the background she sighed. My Girl filled her ears. Typical. 

—---------------------------------------------------

Rooster could feel the stares of the people around him. Everyone was looking at him, judging him. It was in fact only Hangman and Phoenix but their stares felt like everyone. They were judging him as he walked up.

“So, how’d it go loverboy?” he heard Hangman remark as soon as he was in earshot.

“Looking at his expression that resembles a kicked puppy I’d say not good.” Phoenix added, a look of pity on her face. 

Rooster gave them both a pointed look. His lips in a tight, thin line for a moment as he thought of what to say. He could downplay the whole thing and avoid the teasing remarks of Hangman or he could be honest and get helpful advice from Phoenix.

He stupidly chose his first option.

“I don’t think that's any of your business. It went fine, not perfect, but fine.” Rooster replied, a grimace apparent on his face. Glancing over his shoulder he watched as Magnet walked up to the doors. Was she moving in slow motion? He excused himself and all but ran to the door. Wrapping his hand around the cool metal he pulled it open. 

“Magnet.” he whispered as she walked through the door. “I just want to apologize again, I-”

He closed his mouth quickly as he saw the look she gave him. Had he not known that Magnet was a sweetheart who could barely kill a fly he might’ve even been intimidated. He watched the sway of her hair (and her hips, he can’t lie) as she walked away from him. Not even sparing a second glance to him.

His head hung in shame and embarrassment he walked back over to Hangman and Phoenix. 

“And here I thought you said “it went fine”, correct me if I’m wrong but that didn’t look fine to me.” Hangman said, cockyness but also a sense of pity coming off of him. 

“Shut it, Hangman” Phoenix said, slapping his torso with the back of her hand. 

—---------------------------------------------------

It had been 4 excruciating hours of work. Y/N walked to the lunch room, her packed lunch in hand. It didn’t help that she couldn’t get Bradleys stupidly gorgeous face out of her mind. It was like her heart wouldn’t listen to her mind when she was begging for images of his face to leave her mind. 

Glancing around the room she found Phoenix in their normal spot. In the beginning of training the two of them claimed the table as their own, not even letting the rest of the daggers sit with them. It was a girl debriefing table as they called it. Somewhere they could share their feelings without the judgment of the sassiest group of men to ever walk the Earth. 

Before she made her way she quickly glanced around the room for Rooster. She had figured it was time she’d start calling him that again, but not Roos. He’d lost that privilege. She scanned the tables full of people eating and laughing with each other, not seeing him anywhere. Weird. 

—---------------------------------------------------

While Magnet didn’t see him, he saw her. He was waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in. As he watched her make her way to her usual table he sped walked towards it. He saw as Phoenix’s eyes widened as they raced, unbeknownst to Magnet. She could see Rooster was gaining on her. Her face turned into a grimace as he got to the table quicker and pulled out Y/N’s normal chair. Rooster watched as Mag stopped in her tracks. Glancing towards the exit he thought maybe she’d make a run for it and leave. With a sigh of relief he watched as she finished the inner battle she was having and walked the distance separating them. He watched as she gracefully sat down and he pushed her chair in. 

“Thank you.” was quietly mumbled, so quiet that Rooster could barely hear it.

“I’m sorry, come again?” Rooster said, genuine confusion in his voice. 

“I said, thank you, Rooster.” Y/N replied, annoyance evident in her voice. 

“Well I see we are back to you calling me by my callsign. Y/N please just let me apologize for-” Rooster began. 

“Don’t push it Bradley. This is the girls table. Thanks for the chair thing but you need to go. Goodbye Rooster.” Y/N said, cutting him off. 

“Right. I will see you later Mags.” Rooster said, his face turning slightly red from embarrassment. He turned and began walking back to his normal table.

“That was tough to watch, Rooster” he heard Hangman remark.

“Yeah Rooster, that was the shutdown of the century.” Payback added. 

Although they all teased him for his setback he couldn’t help but notice the looks of pity from around the table. 

—---------------------------------------------------

“That was sweet of him. Don’t you think Mags?” Phoenix started, giving her a look.

Y/N wasn’t paying attention to Phoenix. She was too busy in her head replaying the interaction that had just taken place. It was sweet of him to do but did he seriously think that would win her over?

“Mags?” Phoenix repeated.

“Huh?” Y/N said, glancing up from the plate of food that she was moving around with her fork. 

“I said that it was sweet of Rooster. Don’t you think so?” Phoenix repeated. 

“Yeah, um I didn’t think he was going to do all that.” Mags replied 

“Mags, you do know you can talk to me, right?” Phoenix asked, her voice sincere.

“Yeah, I um, yes I do.” Mags said, her voice thick from the urge to start crying. 

“Y/N? What's wrong?” Nat asked, reaching over to grab the woman's hand. 

“Do you want to go talk in the bathroom?” 

With just a nod from the other woman, she stood up while grabbing her arm and directed them both to the bathroom. 

“Tell me what's wrong.” Phoenix said, her voice stern. 

“I just don’t know what to do. I want to forgive Bradley so badly. I just can’t. I can’t get the image of his face when he called me a friend. And I know that I can’t be mad at someone for not wanting me back but that's just the thing, he said he liked me too. He confessed it to me but I just can’t get past those words coming out of his mouth. I want to so badly Nat, I promise I do.” Y/N said, she was crying now. 

“Oh honey, I promise it’s going to be okay.” Nat said, pulling the girl into a hug. 

“I need to go, I have so much work to do.” Y/N said, pulling away from the woman. 

“Okay. I promise it’s all going to work out Mags.”

“I hope so.”

To: Rooster

You need to fix this.

  Read 12:33

I know.

Read 12:35

—---------------------------------------------------

“Come on Mags, just come to the hard deck I promise it’ll be fun” Hangman all but whined at her

“Hangman, I really don’t want to come. I want to go home, get on my pjs, eat some ice cream and cry to a Disney movie.” Y/N said, a hand on her hip as she looked at the man.

“That can be done tomorrow.” Hangman said pulling her up, “You are going and thats final.”

“Alright alright Mom. Let me just get my stuff.” Mags said, giving Hangman a look. 

—---------------------------------------------------

To: Bagman

Did you get her to come?

          Read 4:00

You really owe me. 

Read 4:06

     I know.

            Sent 4:12

—---------------------------------------------------

Pulling up to the Hard Deck, Y/N sighed.

“Do I really have to go?” Y/N said, trying to give her best puppy dog eyes. 

“Yes. Now let's go.” Hangman said, stepping out of the car with Phoenix and Y/N. 

An ughhh was heard from behind them. Phoenix letting out a chuckle at Mags antics. The three of them walked up to the doors. Y/N took a deep breath and stepped in behind the duo. Glancing around the bar she took notice of who was here and who wasn’t. Payback, Bob, Fanboy and the others. No Rooster. She didn’t know if she liked that fact or not. 

“He’s not here yet.” she heard Hangman whisper in her ear. 

“I wasn’t even looking for Rooster.” she said, attitude evident.

“Never specified who.” Hangman said with a shrug of his shoulders as he walked away. 

“Asshole.” Y/N muttered, rolling her eyes. 

With a huff she made her way over to the bar. Sending Penny a little wave she watched as the older woman made her way over. 

“How are you doing, sweetheart?” Penny asked

“I’ve been better but I’m okay. Can I just get a beer please?” Y/N replied.

“Coming right up.” the other woman said going to get the drink. 

As Mags glanced around the room she swore she heard a familiar tune. It couldn’t be. 

—---------------------------------------------------

“Well we all know my favorite song but what about you Mags?” Rooster asked.

“I can’t tell you my favorite as I am gatekeeping but I can tell you my favorite love song.” Y/N said with a small smile on her face. 

“Well then, your favorite love song.”

“My Girl by the Temptations.” Y/N replied.

“My Girl?”

“My Girl.” Y/N affirmed.

—---------------------------------------------------

She could hear the song being played on the piano. As much as she wanted to get her beer, curiosity got the best of her as she slowly walked over. Her eyes widened as she saw who was playing. Roos. 

There he was playing her favorite love song and looking so good as he did it. When he looked up from the keys and saw her a smile spread across his face. His face was glistening with a thin layer of sweat as the Hard Deck was always hot with so many people. His fingers glided gracefully over the keys as he played them. He looked so in his element, so perfect. Rooster kept his eyes on her, like nobody else was in the room. Like it was just her and him. She felt her feet moving before she could even register it. She came to a stop right in front of the piano and just watched him with a sparkle in his eye. Listening as he sang along with the melody. 

As the song came to an end people around them started cheering. Some came over to clap Rooster on the back and say how cool it was. If this had been any other day Rooster might have basked in the attention but now he only had one person on his mind. 

“Mags, please just let me explain.” Rooster all but begged.

“Okay Rooster.” she said quietly.

He quickly grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the side door. Glancing left and right he made sure that nobody else was outside.

“Y/N you’ve got to understand that I truly didn’t know. If I had noticed that you even wanted me I would’ve dropped everything to ask you out. But, baby, I really didn’t. I promise you I didn’t. I would do anything to have another chance. Please, I am begging you baby.”

“I’m sorry too, Rooster. I was immature and should’ve just talked to you. I was just upset but I truly shouldn’t have been because I understand that I had no reason to be. But, I guess you aren’t oblivious anymore, huh?” Y/N asked

“No, I am not oblivious anymore. Can I please take you on a date?” Rooster questioned.

“Yeah Roos, you can.” Mags said with a laugh. Leaning in to finally doing what she's always wanted too. “Can I please kiss you?”

“Baby, you never had to ask.”

—---------------------------------------------------

“I’m telling you, that's going to be his wife.” Hangman said.

“No way you just stole my line.” Phoenix said, turning to look at him with a annoyed look.

part 3 is finally here!! I hope you all enjoy it! I was thinking about mini stories involving Magnet and Rooster if anyone would be interested? feel free to send in requests relating to them!!

stay hydrated, stay healthy, stay perfect!

-strawberry🍓

[cottonlemonade]

Crush At First Sight

word count: 811 || avg. reading time: 2 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Tendou x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: spoilers

synopsis: you are on vacation and go visit a praline-making demonstration

Part of the Parisian tourist experience for a chocolate connoisseur such as yourself you simply had to go to a praline-making demonstration. Prim and proper you sat in the first row of the small room with the high ceiling windows, waiting (im)patiently for the chocolatier to step behind the detached metal counter on which a large basin sat that smelled heavenly of chocolate.

Utensils, molds, and a large flat thing you recognized as a scraper lay neatly on the clean surface.

People to your left and right were chatting in different languages and taking pictures of the setup. A few minutes passed until the door behind the counter opened and a young man stepped out. Your first thought was that he looked excited, the second, he was really quite handsome in a chaotic sort of way. He wore a white uniform, the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows.

“Bonjour à tous! English or Français?”

General mumblings of “English” simmered up from the crowd and he nodded.

“Bear with me, please. My English is only so-so.”, he said heavily accented. It sounded a bit French and a bit of something else.

“My name is Satori, I’m from Japan but came to study … chocolate in Paris.”

The audience chuckled and the young chocolatier straightened his previously slouched shoulders a little, apparently relieved to have broken the ice so easily.

Tendou had done these demonstrations dozens of times before. The chocolate academy sent out their protégés regularly to these tourist demonstrations and usually, he had up to six a day.

He scanned the crowd, proud of such a good turnout, and silently wondered if he had prepared enough tasty treats for everyone to have a bite afterward and then spotted you. Oh no, you were way too cute. This could be a problem. He’d be too preoccupied trying to show off, what if he dropped the filled molds or accidentally used too much force scraping off excess chocolate and sent some flying in your direction? As he stirred the molten chocolate in the basin he stole a second glance in your direction. You sat and watched expectantly, clearly genuinely curious about his upcoming explanations. He decided to ignore you for now, to not spare you another look. For his own mental state. But when his little workshop began and he held up his different instruments asking for participation in naming them and your hand shot up he knew he was in trouble.

Of course, you knew all the utensils, and of freaking course, you knew how to define what a praline was in its essence. Gorgeous and as excited about his work as he was - if it were up to him he would have sent everyone packing and given you a private show, ending with lifting you onto the counter and feeding you one delicious creation of his after another. He tried not to imagine his fingers dipping into your generous sides or standing between your plush thighs, pushing praline after praline past your lips. He held up one of the older molds they used to pour chocolate into in the 1850s and said, “As you can see, these were made of iron. I, of course, could bend them easily because I’m very strong but the new polycarbonate ones are bendable for everyone else as well.”

His heart tumbled down at least two long sets of stairs when he watched you laugh at his joke.

Bravely, he soldiered through his demonstration, disappointed when someone snatched up a reply to a question you obviously knew the answer to. Somewhere towards the end you had stopped raising your hand, undoubtedly uncomfortable about some whispers and looks from people next to you. He adored your eagerness, tried not to coo at how you chewed your lips when suppressing an answer and by the time he hit the mold with finished, set pralines on the counter to get them out he was already thinking of a way to ask for your number.

He did an over-the-top bow at the end, thanking people for their attention, and began cleaning the counter while the audience filed out of the room. You stayed back a bit much to his delight, sorting through your bag. Finally, you carefully picked up one of the pralines as if it was the most precious thing ever and not something he literally threw together in half an hour.

“This was great, thank you.”, you said and Tendou melted like the chocolate in the bain-marie.

“You’re very welcome.”, he replied, watching with bated breath as you lifted the treat to your lips.

“Oh wow… incredible.”

Tendou beamed.

“You know, this particular one goes great with coffee. Fancy a cup? The next group won’t be here for another 30 minutes.”

You looked surprised, which dialed his cute aggression up to 100.

“I’d love that.”

a/n: I’m currently on vacation in Brussels and went to the Chocolate Museum yesterday which was so incredibly interesting 😱 After watching a demonstration by a young cocky chocolatier I knew I had to write something like it for Tendou! Originally, it was supposed to be a drabble. Oh well.

[wheres-mylove]

silent love song | sihtric kjartansson x fem!reader

Summary: A pretty lady is convinced that Sihtric hates her, a pretty warrior is terrified of confessing his feelings more than fighting the most dangerous enemy, and the pretty boys simply have to spring into action, because you can't be more oblivious than these two.

Disclaimer: English isn’t my first language!

Word count: 2.5k

Hope in her heart extinguished as quickly as it had ignited. 

Sihtric Kjartansson ran away from her once again. 

The cool air was a welcome change after hours spent in a stuffy and stinky hall, overflowing with joyful men. Though drunken would be a more fitting description. The wind tousled (Y/N)'s hair as she quietly left the room to take a break from the chaos that only a band of celebrating warriors could create. She turned her head at the sound of approaching footsteps. In the dimly lit vestibule, she recognized Sihtric's figure. He stood there for a few seconds. Then, he spun on his heel and returned to his companions. 

(Y/N) let out a heavy sigh. Since she had never noticed the boy's flushed cheeks and how nervously he gulped, trying to find the courage to talk to her, she once again came to the following conclusion - Sihtric Kjartansson did not like her. From the very beginning. 

Poor girl rested her head against the wooden railing and closed her eyes in frustration. She didn’t even know what his problem was!

“What a cheerful mood,” commented Finan, nudging her with his elbow. “Is the lady planning to stand here in this abyss of despair or will she come back to us?” 

“Why don’t you go away and bother someone else?”

“My other friends have ugly faces. It takes away my drinking joy.” 

(Y/N) laughed and shook her head. 

“Are ya okay? Ale’s too strong?” he asked, then smiled playfully. “Sihtric is worried.”

The girl glanced at him and furrowed her brow in contemplation. She hoped Finan would keep it discreet after she said what she had intended to say. 

“I'm asking you, because you're an honest man,” she began, smoothing the material of her skirts just to occupy her hands. She had to know. “Sometimes even recklessly straightforward.”

“Thank ya,” he replied with a proud smile. Then he processed the second part of her statement and grimaced. “I guess.” 

“Why does Sihtric hate me?” she asked, her tone almost pleading. “I don't mean that he has to like me, but he doesn't utter a word to me, while he talks to everyone else. He runs away at the sight of me! Even today. Is my company that unbearable, or did I do something to offend him? If it's the latter, I will apologize, for heaven's sake!” 

Finan stood there with raised eyebrows for a while. Then he let out a belly laugh. (Y/N) waited with hands placed on her hips until the Irishman stopped wheezing. 

“That's what you get when you ask a drunkard anything,” she retorted, about to walk away, but Finan held her arm.

“No, wait, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” he exclaimed, wiping tears from his eyes. “You've amused me so. Wait! Wait, woman.”

“You're making fun of my problems. If you told me that girls run away at the sight of you, I would at least explain why. Sometimes you're a real piece of shit.”

“Girls go crazy when they see me,” he protested, to which (Y/N) rolled her eyes. “But ya make Danish warriors weak in the knees, so you have nothing to complain about! Sihtric worships the ground ya walk on, I'm serious now.” Finan straightened up and smiled, but this time more gently. “He's cute, but he's already wearing us all out with his tales about your beauty, so if you could just help us out…” 

“You're making fun of me,” (Y/N) replied uncertainly, searching his face for signs of deception. 

“For someone so wise, you're more blind than my grandmother in her final days,” Finan muttered, crossing his arms. “Think for a moment. He doesn't have to say anything. It's just that ya seem to have your eyes up your arse.”

“I should drown you in that barrel of ale. I'm going to sleep, and I suggest you do the same.” The girl jumped off the steps without looking back. 

“He bows when he sees ya approaching, even if miles separate ya,” the Irishman continued. (Y/N) reluctantly stopped, though her stubbornness still prevented her from turning around. “He stands near your tent at night, and believe me, no one dares to enter. Who do ya think takes care of your horse? The servants, to put it mildly, have been dismissed.” (Y/N) slowly faced Finan. “When trouble or danger arises, who magically appears in front of ya? Coincidence, right? And when we set up camp a week ago, I hope ya know that no one conjured those extra furs; they were from him.”

The girl looked down and sighed softly. 

“And the flowers by the entrance of my tent, I presume?”

“Aye, ya should see how enthusiastically he picks them! That beast has gone a bit mad for ya. Anything else, my lady?”

“When I said I have no means to defend myself…”

“A sudden surge of wisdom!”

“Be quiet,” she murmured with a smile, waving him goodbye.

“That's a nice dagger ya have!”

Because it’s Sihtric's.

A complete, humiliating, crippling defeat.

“Did you shit your breeches?” Uhtred yelled loud and clear, even before Sihtric could return defeated to their table.

“Come on, give him a break, lord.” Osferth threw Sihtric a comforting look and a tight-lipped smile. Sihtric messed up his hair and slumped heavily on the bench.

“I can't handle it, I just can't,” he admitted with considerable embarrassment. “If only she were a little less beautiful, everything would look different.”

“Close your eyes then,” Beocca advised from above his bowl of stew.

“God's wisdom knows no bounds,” Osferth commented in a voice devoid of emotion and glanced at Sihtric, who, in his misery, decided to down his ale in one go. 

“I don't understand you, I simply don't understand you,” Uhtred sighed. “A brave warrior, slaying enemies with a sword, an axe, even with bare hands. And he's afraid to simply talk to a lady.” 

“Uhtred, feelings have overwhelmed people more than once. The heart is not inclined to listen to rational explanations. It follows its own rules,” Beocca spoke up, folding his hands on the table. “Don't lose faith, Sihtric. Everything will work out.”

“He doesn't need faith, just some balls,” Uhtred protested, to which the priest and the baby monk gave him disapproving looks. 

“What? Nothing but the truth.”

“She wouldn't want me anyway,” the young warrior spoke, staring into the bottom of his mug. “She is a lady, and what am I? What can I offer her? What can I give her? It's pathetic. It's enough for me to admire her from a distance and know that she's safe; the rest is just a stupid dream.”

“He's entered the wailing phase,” Uhtred groaned. Leaning back, he looked towards the entrance. “Finan went to her. He probably annoyed her. Oh, he definitely annoyed her. Maybe she was already irritated that you messed up once again and exploded.”

“Whatever do you mean?” 

“Gods, Sihtric, she was looking at you all evening. She went outside alone, so you had a perfect excuse to approach her, you fool.”

“It's not that simple-”

“My lady, what a beautiful evening it is today. You suddenly disappeared, and I wanted to make sure everything is okay. It is? Great. I wanted to be certain. And ask if you would like to sleep in my tent tonight.”

“Uhtred!”

“What now?”

“The savage speaks through you,” Beocca scolded him. Meanwhile, Finan returned and leaned conspiratorially over his dark-haired friend. 

“(Y/N) asked about ya, little runt.” 

“About me?” Sihtric raised his head so quickly that he almost broke his friend's nose. “What exactly did she say?” 

“Ya would know if ya had gone there and asked her yourself,” Finan replied with a wicked smile and darted back towards the exit. 

“Finan!” Sihtric shouted after him, immediately getting up from his seat. “What did she say? Finan!”

“If things continue to look like this, the opportunity will slip right past him,” Uhtred concluded, watching with amusement as Sihtric chased after the Irishman. “We need to corner him.”

“But how, my lord?” Osferth asked uncertainly. “He gets very nervous in her presence. I doubt we can…”

 “Anger is a bit stronger than fear. And I have an idea.”

 “Oh God, watch over us.”

Something was off. Aethelwold had never sat so close. And Sihtric's eyes had never gleamed with such fury. 

“That's exactly how it happened, my lady. I'm not telling this story to boast, oh no,” the royal nephew spoke, gesturing animatedly.

(Y/N) had hoped for a peaceful afternoon and a bit of quiet in the shade of the sprawling oak tree. She had some things to think about. She had to think about Sihtric. About Finan's words. And about things she hadn't noticed before. Perhaps she had indeed surpassed the Irishman's grandmother in her blindness. 

Barely had she settled under the tree with an apple in her hand and a tangle of thoughts in her head when Sihtric appeared nearby. He must have had a lot to do in that area.

She lifted her gaze when she felt him looking at her. He blushed to the tips of his ears and bowed deeply. She smiled and was about to get up and approach him. (Y/N) had prepared a perfect excuse. The dagger desperately needed sharpening. Maybe Sihtric would confess that he had given it to her. But all dreams and plans were ruined by Aethelwold, emerging out of nowhere with an innocent smile. 

“My lady,” he began and sat down next to her without waiting for an invitation. “If it's not a bother, I'll keep you company for a while. I see it's not. We haven't had a chance to get to know each other better, don't you think?” 

(Y/N) wasn't quite sure what this arrogant man was getting at, but she decided to listen to his utterly fascinating stories for a while so as not to appear rude. 

Sihtric was seething. He thought Osferth was lying because Uhtred ordered him to. The young monk had told him in great secrecy that he overheard a conversation between Aethelwold and (Y/N)'s brother. The topic of discussion was an initial marriage agreement. Of course, Sihtric didn’t believe him. 

But now, before Sihtric's eyes, that pile of dung was cozying up to his lady. He was probably telling outrageous things just to brag. 

Sihtric Kjartansson sharpened his sword, carefully observing every move of Aethelwold. That poor fool felt beads of sweat on his forehead when their eyes met. 

“Lord, if you'll allow me, I'm very tired,” (Y/N) gently interrupted his never-ending story and got up, dusting off her dress. Aethelwold stood up with her and grabbed her wrist firmly, holding her in place. 

Big mistake. 

One pleading look from (Y/N) later, the man, royal or not, landed on his backside with a loud thud, forcefully pushed away. 

“The lady leaves when she wishes to leave, and you keep your hands to yourself,” the young Dane growled, to which Aethelwold raised his hands in a defensive gesture. 

“Yes, I apologize,” he quickly stammered, gathering himself from the ground and rushing off to an appointed place. 

“Never again, he looked at me like he were the devil himself,” Aethelwold said in a high-pitched voice. He extended his hand, on which Uhtred sprinkled a few silver coins. “I demand a barrel of ale added to my payment. He was sharpening his sword!”

“We saw. Someone got maaad,” chuckled Finan, trying to get a better look from behind the twigs.

“Important thing is, it worked. That justifies my lie, doesn't it, lord?” Osferth asked for a confirmation, pushing past Finan.

“God will forgive you,” Uhtred promised. “But you won't get the ale, Aethelwold. There was supposed to be a kiss too.”

“Of course! So he could kill me!”

Unaware of the trap set for him, Sihtric was seething with jealousy and a sense of injustice. She couldn't marry that scoundrel. 

“Thank you, I thought I'd never get rid of him,” (Y/N) smiled and bowed her head slightly. 

“Can I say something?” Sihtric asked with desperate fervor.

“You certainly should, it's rare,” the girl laughed, but her expression grew serious at the sight of his face. 

“Don't marry him. Don't do this to me and to yourself.”

“Sihtric? I'm not…”

“Aethelwold doesn't deserve you. Honestly, I doubt anyone ever will. He's a coward and you, (Y/N), need something more. Someone who will pledge you a sword along with their heart. And give you that whole heart until it becomes one with yours. Make you a part of their world in its very core. They'll dream of you because you're someone worth dreaming of. Worth of devotion and tenderness. They'll see in you not only the beauty that weakens me, but also the strength and courage that are evident in every move you make-”

(Y/N) looked at him for a while, her gaze wandering over his face. 

“Weaken you?”

“What?” Sihtric stumbled, suddenly realizing the weight of his slip of the tongue.

“Why were you silent for so long if you speak like this?” (Y/N) sighed before rising on her tiptoes and planting a sweet kiss on his lips. Sihtric didn't open his eyes, afraid it was all a dream. 

“My lady? I... I apologize if it's too much at once…”

“Someone recently talked some sense into me, so now I know you've been telling me this all along, little by little,” (Y/N) confessed, cupping his face in her hands. “You spoke through your actions, Sihtric. I'm sorry for averting my gaze.”

The mighty warrior fixed his gaze on the tree, embarrassed to meet the girl's eyes.

“Did you at least like the flowers?”

“Very much. Where do you pick them?”

“It's a secret.”

“We can go pick them together sometime. And roll in the grass.” 

Sihtric burst into laughter and kissed her more passionately. The realization hit him that now he could. 

“Wait,” (Y/N) suddenly said, holding him back by the arm. “Where did the idea that I'm getting married come from?”

“Osferth told me,” he said, furrowing his brow. “And the person that told you-”

“Finan,” (Y/N) quickly interrupted. 

“One could have guessed.”

“No. Well, yes. But now I mean that Finan is standing over there and waving at us.” 

Sihtric turned around abruptly. Now not only Finan, but also the rest of the party left their hiding spot. The boys looked very pleased with themselves. 

“Right, Uhtred all along,” (Y/N) looked at Sihtric. “You frightened the poor man and he was just doing your lord's bidding.”

“He deserved it,” he whispered in her ear. They heard a cough behind them. Father Beocca also decided to grace them with his presence. 

“Is anyone else hiding in the bushes?” Sihtric muttered, rolling his eyes. 

“I only came to inquire about when we're setting the date for the wedding.”

“Whose wedding? It's easy to get confused,” (Y/N) chuckled. 

“Yours, lady. With Sihtric, of course,” Beocca replied nonchalantly, pointing with his finger at the Dane still embracing her tightly. “Uhtred told me.”

[akairawrites]

Curiosity killed The Cat | Damian Wayne Imagine

Taglist

@ella-fella-bo-bella @ayoitsurfavdesigurl @luvvvjada @harleycao @aiq39

You were just 14 years old when you first encountered the infamous Damian Wayne. He strode through Gotham Metro Academy as if he owned the place, and with his father being the wealthiest man in Gotham City, it wasn't surprising. What made it even more intriguing was that you seemed to share almost every class with him.

"Why are you trailing me?" He inquired, standing tall beside your desk as you retrieved your class materials from your backpack. You glanced up, meeting his fierce green eyes without flinching. "Excuse me?" you retorted.

"You've been following me around, why?" he pressed, his tone dripping with curiosity. You scoffed and sized him up. "Ever been to a school before? If it were up to me, I'd be nowhere near you."

Damian clicked his tongue in annoyance. "How did you even get into this school? You don't seem like you can afford—" Before he could finish his sentence, you cut him off with a swift, hard punch to his face. You didn't care about his status as Bruce Wayne's son; whatever he was going to say deserved a punch.

The entire class stared at you in disbelief as Damian held his face where your punch had landed. If he hadn't looked furious before, he certainly did now. He restrained himself from retaliating, aware of the prohibition against hitting females, a double standard he found frustrating.

⋆

"This is her second time punching a student, Ms. Kyle. I'm afraid that if this happens again, we will have no choice but to expel [Y/n]," the principal expressed with a concerned tone.

The principal's worried look held firm as Selina, your mother, fixed you with a glare that felt like it could burn holes through your head. This wasn't the first time she'd been summoned to the school, and it seemed like it wouldn't be the last. After a discussion with the principal, it was decided that you would receive two weeks of detention. It was definitely worth silencing that arrogant son of a bitch.

"We need to address your anger management," Selina said as both of you walked down the empty hallway. "I don't have anger issues," you retorted bluntly, even though deep down, you knew it was a problem you'd inherited from your late father. When you got into these moods, Selina knew precisely how to help you feel better.

"Since it's the weekend, how about we have a girls' night out?" Selina suggested. You looked up at her, and she gave you a knowing smile. The smirk that crossed your face was all the confirmation she needed.

⋆

The moon hung full in the night sky as you and your mother, Selina, dashed through the streets of Gotham. When Selina halted, so did you. You peered down at the pristine glass that showcased exquisite diamond jewelry. Selina crouched over the glass ceiling, her cat-like nails making quick work of creating a large enough opening for both of you to slip through.

She gracefully entered the opening and gestured for you to follow. Drawing upon what Selina had taught you, you descended with a feline-like agility, landing on your feet without a sound. It was a moment that made Selina proud, despite the unconventional circumstances. She knew that involving her 14-year-old in a heist wasn't ideal, but she wanted to bond with you, and this was the only way she knew how.

"Help yourself to whatever you want, sweetheart," Selina encouraged as she admired the jewels in a glass casing. While she did that, you explored the room, not as captivated by the treasures as your mother was. In the corner of your eye, you glimpsed something that stopped you in your tracks—a beautiful green necklace sealed in a small glass case, nestled in a black pendant box. It seemed to call your name, drawing you closer until a loud shattering of glass snapped you out of your trance.

You turned quickly to see Batman and Robin approaching your mother, who had wandered farther from you than you realized. They hadn't even noticed your presence in the room.

"Well, if it isn't the Bat, and this must be Robin," Selina greeted, eyeing him while he maintained his glare.

"Catwoman," Batman acknowledged in his deep voice. This was your first time seeing Batman in person, a day your mother had been preparing you for.

You hid behind a jewelry display, watching through the glass. Your mother surveyed the room discreetly, likely looking for you, then returned her attention to the masked hero. She placed her hands on her hips, drawing closer to them. Her finger trailed up his shoulder and over his neck, likely sending shivers down his spine.

"Why so formal? You can address me by my name, Bruce," she whispered into his ear, causing him to visibly tense. Your mother always had a way with words, especially in getting herself out of tight spots, even more so now with her secret weapon.

As Selina approached Robin, she ruffled his hair, prompting him to slap her hand away and glare at her intensely. She chuckled to herself. "You know, I have a sidekick myself."

The moment those words left her lips, you sprang from your hiding place. Before he could react, you attacked Robin with a quick blow to the face and a kick to the stomach, sending him flying across the room, crashing into a jewelry display.

While your mother was distracted with Batman, you made a beeline for the necklace. You attempted to grab it but were tackled to the ground by Robin, who recovered quickly. You kicked him off and reached for the necklace. The moment your hand touched the glass, he threw a Batarang, slicing your hand open. You grunted in pain, clutching your bleeding hand as crimson pooled on the floor.

With no time to process what had just happened, Robin advanced on you. In a moment of quick thinking, you grabbed the necklace and crawled between his legs to avoid a confrontation. You dashed towards your mother as she secured her bag of jewels, and together, you swiftly escaped from the scene

Part 2 out now!

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[itsmeyaspider]

Catched in a dragon's cave~

Yandere Aegon II x female thief reader x Yandere Aemond part 2

Trigger warning: rape, violence, blood, yandere themes, toxic behavior, I don't think that any of this behavior is fine!!! I don't justify any of this! It's just a made up yandere story so be aware!

Part 1:

Pain, that is the only thing you feel when Aegon starts to penetrate you. Tears run down your cheek, your whole body flinches at every trust he does. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction, you didn't want him to see how much you suffer under him. Abruptly, you close your (e/c) eyes, inwardly you pray to the gods that it will be soon over. Aegons is satisfied in every way he could imagine, your cute (b/t) body is trembling under him, a wide satisfying smile could be seen on his lips. You were tight, what he really loved. Especially on woman who looked so fragile and helpless under him. It was a good idea to make you his personal whore.

"You like it whore? Hmm, taking my cock so well. You can count yourself lucky that you got such a task." He pushes further into you, nothing escapes his evil, violet eyes, all your oh so sweet reactions make him even harder. He likes it when they fight back, and he liked it even more when they trying to fight him. Fuck, you really drive him crazy. He strokes your cheek almost in a gentle way, for a small amount of time you thought he is finished, but suddenly you hear a loud noise in his chamber. Your cheek start to glow red, as another pain runs through your body and you almost scream. Aegon seems to be satisfied again.

"Did I give you permission to close your eyes?" His voice sounds angry, a second ago he was completely different and now you wish that he would be happy again. "Open your fucking eyes when I fuck you or do you want me to take them out?" You open immediately your (e/c) eyes as they sparkle with fear. "I-I'm sorry M-mylord...I-it won't happen again" you stutter out. Your voice is music in his ears, your body who is shaking because of him, and your eyes who are filled with great fear.

You are his little whore, no one else will ever dare to touch you. If someone is stupid enough to do that, he would make sure that his head would hang on the wall.

-------

You lie on the far too big bed, crying over and over again. The feeling of dirt and filth running through your whole body, this is a living nightmare. 'I should have preferred torture, at least I would have died with proud' Slowly you get up from the bed, clutching your stomach, you close your eyes as you start to pray again to the gods that you will never get pregnant from him. You glance at yourself in the mirror, only now you notice all the hickeys and bite marks. Your whole body is covered in it. God, why are you so weak? Where was your strength? You were raised by the streets and you saw many horrible things, and still you couldn't do anything about your new situation.

You would loved to cry again, but with all your rest strength you force yourself to not do it again. 'Stay strong...you will survive' you tell yourself as you decide to take a warm bath. Maybe that would at least make you feel a little bit better. After you finished, you look in the closet that Aegon has filled with dresses and jewelry for you. Many beautiful things catching your eyes, expensive things you could have never wear before. But you really didn't feel like wearing anything glamorous right now, after all what happened you think it would be better to not cause any other problems. You hand reaches for a green dress with a simpler dark green pattern. Nevertheless, it is overflowing with golden hem.

With a small sigh, you decide to take a short walk around the castle. You didn't see to much from it the first time. Your (e/c) eyes didn't know where to look first. Everything was beautiful, the decoration, the pictures on the wall, even the ground was different. You slowly start to float in your fantasy when you suddenly bump into someone.

"Watch out" Says a rough voice. You immediately look up as you notice a purple eye. 'Shit.' You hastily bow as you can't get rid of the feeling of being stared at. Someone is staring in your soul. "E-Excuse me, Mylord," your voice shakes again as you take a glance at the ground. The intensity of the gaze puts your body into a trance like state, it is as if you were trapped in a cage, and in front of you is a large lion who is waiting to eat you. Aemond is clearly amused from the woman infornt of her, he likes how much influence he already had over you.

"What's your name?" He asks without any emotion in his voice. You are very suprised that the prince is actually interested in you, but it's not in your power to question this. It would be better if you keep your head low, you already got the King's attention, you don't need the Prince too. The story's about Aemond Targaryen were as cruel as those about his brother. "My name is (Y/n)." A small smile spreads on his face, something in it made you really uncomfortable. The Targaryen looks at you for one last time, as he disappeares. 'Strange....the Targaryens are all fucked up' you think to yourself, today wasn't your day.

-----------

The day passes by, as you continue to wander like a ghost trough the huge castle. Even now you only seen half of it, with a small sigh you go towards you chamber, secretly hoping that Aegon isn't waiting there. 'Be strong...' On the way back you suddenly get a very bad feeling, only now you notice that you being watched. This time you decide to listen to your feelings and so you follow a different direction. You take a deep breath as somebody suddenly grabs your hand, pressing you against a cold stone wall.

"Where do you go at such a late hour? Shouldn't you be back to your chambers where my brother waits?" Aemonds voice sounds almost gentle, but you still can't shake the feeling that he is mocking you. His fingers glide over your red cheeks, you could feel bis warm breath on your necks. Your body starts to tremble, the uncomfortable feeling gets worse and worse. 'I-I'm on my way to h-him...Mylord" you stutter with the last remaining strength, the gods must have a lot of fun watching you suffer, there was no other way to explain why the other Targaryen was interested in you now too. Aegon is already enough but now also Aemond? Was this some kind of game you couldn't understand or just a joke to make your life worse?

The prince's finger slides now towards your lips, his eye sparks with malice. Something about him immediately screams to run, run as fast as you can. But you couldn't, you're trapped and your body won't listen to you anyways. "Is that so? Answer me this whore, are you having fun pleasing my brother?" Now a small smirk forms on his lips. "M-Mylord I-" but before you can continue to speak, the Targaryen presses you even harder against the wall, his lips crashing with yours. You open your (e/c) eyes in shock, everything gets crazier and crazier. You feel his tongue circling in your mouth, he obviously wants to show you how superior he is to you and where your place is. Underneath him.

You thought it would never end, you could already feel how close you are to cry again. That couldn't be true...was this the punishment for robbing other people? Suddenly a loud, angry voice echoes through the corridor, footsteps can be heard and Aemond immediately let you go out of his grip. "Leave her alone. She is mine. I'm warning you Aemond....if you dare to come near her ever again, I will take your second eye." The king's face turns red as his eyes are now on you. Another shiver runs down your spine, as you could tell how upset he is. You never saw him so angry. "And you...did I give you permission to walk around here freely? Do you think you can do whatever you want without any consequences? Do I have to chain you up until you learn who you belong to?"

The tension is sharp, sharp as a blade who cut someone's throat. You don't dare to contradict him, it's not the right time and moment for it. Aemond stares at his brother for a moment, his smirk never leaves his lips. "Really brother? You think this whore deserve your attention? You would give up our family just for her? Why don't you throw her in a cellar where only we have access to. No one would ever know, not our sister, not our mother and no one else in this castle. It's our little secret under brother's and besides I think our little thief needs to be punished for thinking she can just walk around this castle freely.~"

[alonetimelover]

Action! - tolerate it - 2020

Pairings: Harry Styles x Director!Reader

Summary: YN sees how much Harry is distancing himself from her and their relationship. She decides to confront him, not realising the cascade of events about to happen and the feelings she had buried within herself.

Warnings: angst! swearing, mention of unfaithfulness

Word count: ~3,0k

A/N: Another one based on a song, like the title says: tolerate it by Taylor Swift. Hope you enjoy it! x

requested by @abbeyroad069 I hope it meets your expectations 💗

part 2 - champagne problems

series masterlist let's talk about action!universe

20th of June was, like any day in California, warm and sultry.

Sun high above illuminating his face through the dimmed windows. Book that she recommended to him in his hands, flipping pages from time to time, annotating it. Scribbling in his notebook after having found a noteworthy quote. His hair falling into place like dominoes, the pink hair-slide having been forgotten from the gym the other day. Rolled up sleeves, showing his multiple tattoos and shorts, short enough to give her a peak of his Brazil one. 

She was sitting opposite him watching. Observing his head hanging low, reading the book she loved so much. His chest was rhythmically lifting with each of the deep and calm breath. His left hand, folding down the pages he’d already read. The right one fiddling with the pencil. 

She noticed everything he did and didn’t do. 

She sat and watched him. 

“I can feel your eyes on me, baby,” Harry spoke without sparing her a glance. “You’re staring.”

“I’m admiring.” Scrutinising. 

Harry closed the book and turned to her, “are you?”

“Yeah.”

“Not now, at least. Also that plant hasn’t changed since the day we bought it,” he noted, noticing her eyes watching the flower. 

He was wrong. Not for the first and probably last time. That plant was the fourth she brought to their shared house. The first one, that Harry was alluding to, was overwatered, because before it, YN hadn’t known much about plants and had thought they needed water like people, every day. But it was succulent. YN replaced it within two weeks. 

The second plant, a completely different one - a fuchsia, didn’t last longer. This one being unfortunately knocked over by a dog of YN’s friend, and chewed on, leaving just two flowers. Nothing she could’ve done with them, she searched it up. 

The third one lasted the longest - almost three months. She only needed to replace it, having learned she was allergic to ficus. After weeks of a runny nose, sneezing whenever in a living room and lacrimation, she went to a doctor, did allergic tests and wallowed over her proud achievement that a living plant was. However, she gave it to her best friend, knowing it would be in good hands. 

Harry didn’t notice any change. It couldn’t have been easy for him though. Today was the first day in five months that he decided to actually spend time with YN. During those months he was meeting up with his new costars (of a movie YN was a director of), his management (discussing newest album), his bandmates (talking over new tour dates). All of that after having begged YN for moving in with him in LA, due to worldwide quarantine. 

“You know it’s an orchid?” She asked after some time. 

“Sure.”

“And the one we bought together was a crassula.”

“You threw away our Farquad?” He asked, exaggerating the hurt.  

 “Three months - no, wait - almost four months ago. I overwatered it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s not even the funniest part,” YN started to sound sarcastic. “I then bought a totally different plant that Doger knocked over and ate. Then another one that I - how it turned out - am allergic to. This one is the fourth plant here. I bought it two weeks ago. Isn’t it hilarious?”

“You’re being sarcastic. And I don’t even know what for, YN.” Harry reached for his book, attempting to restart the chapter. 

YN was very much surprised by how quickly and drastically the person she loved could change. One talkative person who wanted to discuss the slightest and smallest problem with his partner was not here. One caring person, who was hurt whenever his loved one was, felt absent. One gentle man, who looked after his partner trying to be the best for her lost the title.

“You understand it’s not about plants?” 

“It sounds like it is,” he said dismissively, staring at the book. 

“But it isn’t. It’s about you, about us, Harry.” She emphasised the pronoun.  

“YN,” he sighed, closing the book once again. “You’re starting this pointless argument for the third time this month.”

Fifth, she thought. It was the fifth time she tried to talk it over with Harry. Perhaps, she felt, she was misreading everything. Perhaps, the neglect she felt wasn't real. She must have been exaggerating the situation. Nothing changed. He loved her as much as yesterday or two years ago. It was pointless after all.

She was waiting by the door just like she was just a kid. Waiting, having laid the table with a ‘fancy shit’ as Harry called the tableware that he’d got from his mother. It was their anniversary. YN wanted to celebrate it simply, a cosy dinner with his favourite dish, Harry’s best wine and Phil Collins playing in the background. Nothing over the top. Just them, solemnising their third year together. 

He was late. Two and half hours late. 

Was she mad? She should have been, but was hopeful. Always putting so much faith in him. 

“What are you doing still up, love?” He asked tiptoeing into the house, five hours later.

“Happy anniversary!” 

She smiled from one ear to the other, holding up the cake she had baked by herself that morning. Even though, deep down she was sad and disappointed, celebrating this milestone was more important. They’d forget about this tardiness tomorrow, only remembering what was worth it.

“Oh! Indeed, happy anniversary, babe.” His eyes not knowing where to look. He forgot.

She hated being called babe. 

“Did you have dinner?”

“Yeah, I’m full.” He patted his stomach, simultaneously taking off his black trainers. “We went to this new sushi restaurant I’d talked to you about. It was amazing! The chef was so nice, giving me a tip on how to chop the spring onions correctly.” Oh, how eager he was about it. 

“Exciting. So you won’t be eating any tacos I made?” She asked hopefully. 

“‘M sorry, YN. I’m so tired, I'm just gonna shower and head to bed. Tomorrow’s morning I’m meeting up with Olivia to talk over the few scenes we’ve got together,” Harry said, yawning and already going up the stairs. 

Harry’s and Olivia’s characters didn’t have any scenes where they would talk with each other. 

“It’s not an argument. I want to kindly and calmly talk with you. When was the last time we actually discussed our relationship?” 

“Is there anything to discuss? We’re fine.”

“Harry,” YN sat up straight, giving Harry a pointer that he’d better listen. “You don’t only discuss your relationship when something’s wrong. And,” she paused, pondering about the next question, “you really think we’re fine?”

“Yes!” He lifted up his voice, becoming edgy. “Day after day you’re insinuating something. Just say it fucking straight, whatever that is on your heart, lay it on me.” 

If she did as he had said, would it mean the end? The confrontation was the last thing she wanted. Especially when Harry already was wired. But at the same time, when would be a better moment?

“I don’t think we’re fine. We’re growing apart,” she admitted. 

“It’s your opinion.”

“Yes, it is! Thank you for noticing, Harry,” YN expressed sarcastically. “Don’t you see how much you’ve distanced yourself from this -” She pointed between them. “This relationship?”

“Distanced? I’m working, YN. I’m trying to write an album. I’m working on three films. I’m managing a relationship with you.”

“Managing?” Her voice smaller, the weight of his words landing on her.

“Of course, it’s the only fucking thing you’ve heard. Of course.” He scoffed, shaking his head.

Harry stood up from the armchair, throwing his book on an oaken coffee table. His hands brushing over his hair and then beard, he’d grown over the quarantine. 

“It’s not. You’re working, Harry. I understand that. I see you writing music and preparing for your roles. I’m here. Just like you wanted me to be. How you begged me to be.” She tried staying as calm as possible. “I am here and you’re not.”

“What do you want me to do, YN? Hmm? I can’t be at the two places at the same time. I can’t give you as much attention as you crave. I can’t.” He was throwing his hands up and down, talking with them as well. 

“Is it craving attention by just wishing your partner was there for you?”

“You think I’m not?”

“Stop asking stupid questions, Harry!” She broke her calmness, all her feelings finally having space to leave her body. “You’re not here. Not at home, not in this relationship.”

“I just said, I can’t give you all the attention you crave, “ he repeated. 

“Love?”

“What?”

“What about love? Can you give it to me?”

“Oh, now you’re sounding ridiculous. I’m done with this conversation, YN.”

He moved swiftly over the table and rushed towards the stairs. 

“I love you, Harry. Can you say it?”

He can’t, she said in her mind, observing how his shoulders tensed, halting his movements. Then, her eyes started getting teary. But she wasn’t going to cry in front of him. No. She’d wait and just like over the last two weeks, she’d wait for him to go to sleep, then she’d sit down in the downstairs bathroom and sob. Sob for minutes or hours. Shaking with all the emotions trapped inside, hurting every inch of her body.

She knew her love should have been celebrated. 

“If it’s all in my head just tell me now,” she whispered, knowing he could hear her. “Tell me I’ve got it wrong somehow. Tell me that for the last five months you haven’t lied about where you were going. Tell me that you really didn’t forget about our anniversary. Tell me that she’s not the one you’re going to every day. Tell me I’m wrong. I beg you,” she whimpered. 

Pathetic, she thought. 

He still hadn’t moved. Maybe he was preparing his apology, or a break up discourse, where YN’s thoughts. 

“YN,” Harry sighed, still not looking in her direction. 

“Tell me I’m wrong.” She pressed him. 

“I - I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if I’m wrong or you don’t know what to say?”

“I didn’t cheat on you.” His voice was low, like it wasn’t really his. 

Many would laugh but she had never thought about it. She trusted him too much to even consider it. From day one of their relationship to this day, she’d never believed any rumour, any post on social media, any article, any fan, any ‘friend’. She believed him, she believed his ‘I love you’s, his ‘I care about you’s, his ‘you’re the love of my life’, his ‘you’re the only one for me’. No doubt there. 

What she thought and worried about was him falling out of love.

And there were more and more signs it had already happened.

“I know. It never crossed my mind.”

Harry’s mood was changing constantly for the last 20 minutes. From very relaxed, to riled up, then annoyed and eventually scared. His mind was full of enigmas he couldn’t solve. Mixed emotions and feelings, messing with him. 

“Then what are you accusing me of?”

“Assuming I - we - are fine.”

“YN-”

“Harry. Be genuine. If not with me, then - then just with yourself.” The least she could do was make him realise it.

“I am. I - I am genuine. I -” he gulped. “I love you.” 

It was like a dagger stabbing her in the heart. The sentence, echoing in her brain, quizzical voices talking over each other, ragging on her. 

Where was that man who’d throw blankets over her barbed wire? She made him her temple, her mural, her sky. Temple, she went to ask for advice, direction, forgiveness and adoration. Mural, she appreciated all over and watched being appreciated by so many. Sky, she couldn’t imagine living without, looking up to it, thanking it for its presence. 

“I love you.” 

But this one was full of it, full of actual love. It could say everything just by the way she expressed it, all feelings inside it. No more to add, nothing to cut. Just three words. Three sincere words. 

“Please,” he begged, knowing what was awaiting him. “Can we go to sleep? We’ll talk about it tomorrow, I promise.”

Letting it slide would mean not talking about it until the moment she’d grow some confidence. She couldn’t do it. As much as it hurt her, what was coming, she needed to be strong. She needed to hear it. No matter the heartbreak. 

“You’ll break that promise. Promises about coming home on time, meeting me up for lunch, going with me to that new sushi restaurant, showing me your newest idea for a song. Promises you break, one after the other since February.” She stood up, walking up to him. “Promises about missing me-”

“Stop.”

“Promises about caring about me.”

“I said stop, YN.” His voice slowly gaining power. 

“Promises about loving me-”

“I said stop!” He shouted, making her flinch. “Stop it, YN! The way you feel doesn’t give you a reason to put it on me, making me feel like a monster, like the one responsible for everything.”

“But you promised all those things, not meeting them at the end.”

“So what?”

She begged her brain to play with her. He didn't just say it. 

“Harry, you lied so many times that I don’t know what’s true anymore. Last month, you talked about meeting Jeff for coffee and the next day there were photos of you with Olivia all over the internet. Few days ago you mentioned the trip with Chris and Gemma, but the same day the trip is going to be, are the days Gemma is spending at her parent’s farm and Chris is visiting our house. Today you said you loved me and - and -,” she couldn’t say it. 

This conversation felt like running up to the finish line of the run, you didn’t want to participate in. One that wouldn’t bring you fulfilment. One that would leave you sore all over, but mostly hurting your poor heart. One that the winner - you - would be an actual loser. 

He stood silently, looking down at his white socks. He couldn’t bring himself to look in her eyes. She made him aware of his feelings. Or the lack of them. This whole conversation not only angered or annoyed him but mostly made him think. Why did he lie so many times? Why couldn’t he stop? What was he thinking then and now? When did it all start? When did he lose it? Where was he, not realising he was hurting one person he promised not to lay a finger on? Why wasn't there any guilt? If so, why couldn’t he look into her eyes?

“When was the last time you asked anything about my life? Do you remember what show I’m working on? Do you remember the date we scheduled to fly to London? Do you remember anything?” She started listing everything that was bothering her.

“I told you about that new show,” she started answering for him. “Stranger Things. I wrote that one character, a guy who loves music, is an outcast. Character that is so close to my heart. One, I’m proudest of. Do you remember talking about it? Or rather me telling you about it?”

Silence. 

“What about that one conversation about going upstate to my cabin? We’re supposed to leave in three days. Or are you meeting up with Olivia to discuss scenes that you do not have together?” 

Perhaps she was jealous. And perhaps, deep down, she thought about the possibility. The infidelity. She was so stunned with the love he made her used to be, trust he provided, that the concept of him being unfaithful was buried within other problems. 

“I’ll pack some stuff and leave for a few days.” It was all he said, before moving upstairs, leaving her flabbergasted. 

Like in a trance, all feelings leaving her body, she walked to the couch and sat down. Thoughts were swirling in her mind, making her numb. She looked across the room, finding the photo of her and Harry from their first visit at Anne’s, laughing maniacally because Gemma had said something funny. It was the first time she met his family properly (in real life, not on FaceTime), seven months into the relationship. It was crazy how now she considered them her family too. Even more than her own.

Was it all going to collapse now? 

“Now, lovebirds, big smiles for the family album!” Anne shouted over Christmas music playing loudly. 

The warmth coming from the fireplace behind her, and the one provided by Harry, made her cheeks feel hot. Matching sweater she had bought for her and Harry, tickling her neck, big woollen socks she got from Gemma tucking her. They were right after the big dinner, carols singing and gifts exchanging. It all felt like Christmas portrayed in movies. 

“It’s an honour, you know,” Harry whispered. 

“What d’you mean?” She looked up at him. 

“Mum has a big album with only a few photos from each year ending up there. I think it’s the last vacant space for 2018, love.” Harry squeezed her closer to himself, cuddling her. “Now say cheese or gimme a kiss.”

“I’m not kissing you in front of your mum!” she protested with a teasing smile. 

“Don’t be a prude,” he joked. “One, little kiss?” 

“Nope.” She popped the ‘p’. 

“Don’t make me beg.” Harry pouted, stepping on the dangerous territory. His pointing finger holding her chin, making her look at him once again. 

He smirked, “you look even more beautiful today, my love.” Smirk turning into his winning smile. 

“You are unbelievable,” she shook her head, slightly puckering her lips. 

“Okay, that’s enough flirting!” Gemma yelled. “Mum snap a photo before you become grandma.”

They laughed in embarrassment but underneath feeling peaceful.

With a Gucci suitcase in hand, Harry appeared in a corner of her eye, almost swimming to the front door. 

“I’ll be back in a few days. I - I need to think about it all. I lo - I’ll see you then, YNN.” 

Just that. 

The door closed, soon being followed by the sound of the engine starting and slowly withering. 

She knew her love should’ve been celebrated. But he tolerated it.

And she did nothing.

She sat and watched him. 

[cottoncandy-cult]

New World, New Life

Smoker x Wife! Reader

Smoker sat in silence as he watched his wife sleep, the swaying of the boat had her sleeping rather deeply on this night. But right now, sleep eluded the silver fox, he had woken up a half hour before this moment and after laying there he determined he would do some of the paperwork he had put off til tomorrow. Unfortunately, he couldn't focus, he didn't know what it was that stood in his way of sleeping but it was starting to bug him.

With a sigh he turned back to his desk, fixing himself two cigars as he tried once more to read the monochrome pages. That didn't last long though, two thin arms curling around his neck as he felt someone rest their head on his. He didn't need to see the stray strands of (H/c) to tell him it was his wife; she was the only one bold enough to touch him without permission. She was the only one with that right. She didn't see a high ranking a marine, she just saw a man who needed someone to keep him grounded. "Did the light from the candles wake you?" His voice was gruff, having sat in silence since waking his voice was slightly deeper than usual.

"No, I couldn't get comfortable without you." He turned to face her, she released him and backed up only to be tugged into his lap. She didn't spare a second before she snuggled up to him, he may not have seemed like an affectionate man but if his angel wanted love, he'd never deny her. He was a proud man; he took pride in his love for this woman and was secure enough that he had no problem telling people where to go. Though they were both mature enough to refrain from hard core PDA, she was a military wife and understood his duties.

He muttered a low apology, using his free hand to move her hair from her face and stroke her cheek. "I woke and couldn't sleep, I thought I'd get some work done..." She giggled as he glanced back at the shuffled papers, pressing a soft kiss to his exposed chest. He was sleeping in a pair of loose black pants; she was in one of his shirts and her underwear. The weather of the area they were in was rather nice even at night, so they were able to sleep pretty comfortably. "You know our anniversary is coming up... We'll have been married 5 years in a week." She spoke softly, giving him a sweet smile.

He chuckled a bit as he looked down to his wife, he had been thinking a lot and found that the life of a marine has left him wanting. He has seen the hypocrisy of those around him, he could see the corruption and false justice that had begun growing and the toxicity that been there from the start. He begun to question what he was doing at this point, if he was really one of the good guys at this point. Especially since it's becoming more common that he comes across Marines abusing their power, he had yet to tell her. But he was considering resigning, the thought of taking her away to beautiful little island had begun growing more and more appealing. They could start a family; he'd make sure their home was safe. Even if it meant running off anyone who tried to cause trouble on the island.

"Yeah, I know, I think you'll like the gift I have..." The longer he gazed into her eyes the more solid his idea became; he'd make sure they had a true home by the time of their anniversary. He also planned to make sure he gave her the family she wanted; he'd give her everything she had been denied because of his wasted dedication to a failing system. (Can you feel my disdain for the world government yet?)

[telvess]

Hello Tess🫂❤️❤️ if it's not too much (and if you have time, of course)...can I ask for Hajun, Susanoo and Hermes headcanons with a painter reader? Especially if the reader likes to sketch them or paint them often...a little painter simp!

If you don't want to do it or don't feel like it, that's totally fine!❤️

Love ya!☀️🌻

Don’t I want to do this? I COULDN’T WAIT TO DO THIS! my first Susanoo request, I’m so excited!

I know you asked for headcanons, but I ended up writing scenarios as well, and they, hm… got out of hand. And so you know… before I fell for Thor, I had a weakness for Hermes, and now thanks to you it came back to me!😭😭😭

Anyway I hope you’re feeling better today, Sunny🌞

RoR: Painter!Reader (Hajun, Susanoo, Hermes) 🔞

Hajun

Let’s not pretend this is kind of person who would stop to look at a beautiful view.

Before he met you, he didn’t give an art second thought. After he met you? He thinks it's pointless, but there are works you show him that make his eyes widen for a split second. Hajun then goes back to pretending that it bores him to death…

If you really want to catch his attention, use bright colors and don't paint something boring.

You always make such a mess with the paints… He likes it.

Oh, you want to teach him to draw? Problems start with his I-don’t-care attitude, then you have to deal with countless broken pencils because he grips them too hard, and of top of that refuses to follow your instructions. Surprisingly Hajun isn’t the first who loses patience.

He's usually unaware that you're drawing him. It's nothing new that you're staring at him.

He doesn't ask what you're drawing, he has to look after his image, but when he thinks you're not looking, he takes a quick peek. Tease him and he will be offended.

Whenever you sketched Hajun, you always used as many thick lines as possible, to better reflect his demonic nature. This time wasn’t different. You sat down near his training ground - that is, simply any place that could have been damaged - and sketched him from the distance. You weren’t usually this obvious, but Hajun was too focused on himself to notice anyway… — Why do you keep peeking? — he asked right after you looked again. You looked at him over your sketchbook. — I’m sketching you — you explained simply, almost indifferently. Hajun stared at you with a dull expression, making you almost lose your cool. — Show me — he demanded, stepping closer to you. You did as he said. — It still needs some improvements, but generally I’m quite contented with… — That’s me? — Hajun interrupted you. Now you were the one with the dull expression on your face. Hajun sounded so serious that you took another look at your unfinished work. You saw very well reproduced facial features, proper body proportions, decent shadows and a good capture of his arrogant expression, something you were most proud of. Apart from the lack of horns and blood, it was impossible to understand how he couldn't see the striking resemblance. — Ouch! — you giggled — It resembled you! — you shouted, almost angry. — I don’t have such face — was his reply. You clearly don’t have a mirror either… you though, but didn’t dare say it out loud. — And my arms should be bigger — he added, pointing a dirty finger at your sketch. — Well, you aren’t tightening them now, are you? — you said, slightly annoyed at this point. You both stared at each other for a moment, until a strange tension began to build around you. You quickly glanced at your sketch and then at Hajun again. — Maybe… they’re not big enough — you admitted slowly — But I can fix it, if only you provide a right source. Hajun remained calm, almost too calm after your obvious provocation. — You may not know how to draw me properly, but you definitely know how to talk to me, little harlot — his calm voice irritated the hell out of you, but hearing that nickname gave you chills. — Come, you'll have to take a closer look — he grabbed your arm and led you towards the field. The sketchbook fell from your hand and landed on the ground. — My sketchbook, wait! — You don’t need it — Hajun didn't let you break free from his grip.

Susanoo

He would show interest in your art. Not necessarily a lot of interest. He may give the impression that he is indifferent to art, but he can actually appreciate beautiful works of art.

You can’t expect Susanoo to talk about art tho. It’s just not his thing. He may ask you questions about details, different methods of painting or the inspiration behind each work, but he will not take an active part in the conversation. He just tries to show you he cares (not about art, but you).

If you prefer to prepare your paints yourself, asks him for a help. He may be a little grumpy about it, but he wouldn't say no to you.

Of all your works, Susanoo likes motion painting the most. There’s something special about them. This frozen moment, captured in time. The more creative you can get, the better.

If you paint him, remember to be sure to properly convey all his grandeur and capture his majesty in all its splendour. Take it seriously, after all he isn’t some small fry.

You were chilling on a couch, practising in your sketchbook. Susanoo was expected to meet the other gods about Ragnarok in an hour, so you were all by yourself. So the timing was perfect to complete one of the hidden projects. Nobody could interrupt you or look over your shoulder, or at least that's what you thought… — Oho, that’s how you like me, girl? — you heard Susanoo’s husky voice right behind you and jumped up with a loud scream. The pencil fell out of your hand. Susanoo laughed out loud at your reaction. — It’s just a sketch… — you muttered. At this point hiding sketchbook or pretending you didn’t draw his exposed… things was pointless. Susanoo sat down next to you, his arm rested on the back of the couch. — Let me see… — he tried to take sketchbook from you, but your grip tightened — Don’t be shy — said Susanoo, and so you gave up. Susanoo looked at your unfinished work and studied it for a moment. His impassive face gave you no hint of what was going through his mind. — You could sketch me in any position, but I can clearly see what was your priority here. You giggled, trying to ignore your warm cheeks. But what you couldn’t ignore was his hand appearing on your thigh. His other arm, which had been resting on the back of the couch, now happened to be wrapped around you as Susanoo pulled you closer to him. The sketchbook fell to the floor, but you didn't think much of it because you were too busy kissing his hungry lips. Whenever Susanoo kissed you, he always gave his all. His tongue explored your mouth, his firm grip on your back, he liked to feel your body pressed against his, your warmth and the trembling he made you feel. It always put him in the right mood. While he played with your mouth, you caressed his crotch. It wasn't long before you felt a growing bulge under your fingers. Susanoo’s hand untied your obi and slowly slipped between the flaps of your yukata. The feel of his warm fingers on your breasts sent shivers down your spine. Before lust could completely consume you, you mumbled: — Aren’t you supposed to have a meeting with other gods soon? Susanoo opened his eyes between kisses, you knew you had angered him. — I don’t understand why you dragged them into this — he replied dryly and pulled you even closer so that you were sitting on his lap. — You will be late! — Yes — he kissed your chin, then moved to your bare neck — And I don’t see a problem with it. — You and your stubbornness — you whispered, feeling yourself slowly fall under his spell as his tongue licked your skin. Just as Susanoo thought as he squeezed your buttocks hard. Maybe a little too hard. You moaned, but the slight pain jolted your senses awake. You stopped a kiss, pushing Susanoo away. He watched in surprise as you covered your breasts and reached for your sketchbook. — You’re late — you announced, sitting up straight next to him — And I have to finish my sketch — you pointed at your sketch of him. — No, no, girl — Susanoo said in a voice that brooked no objections — You have to finish me. The real one, over here — he took your sketchbook and threw it away. You huffed at his demanding tone, but didn’t oppose when Susanoo pulled you to him once again.

Hermes

Since the beginning, you two always talk about art. Hermes was known for his musical abilities basically throughout the universe. You two have a special place for art in hearts.

Hermes likes to talk to you about painting, but he is quite demanding. Art is subjective, but don’t you think he wouldn’t notice if you get sloppy painting some particular part you don’t like. Oh, yes, Oh, yes, he’s gonna point that out.

If you don’t paint for some time, he notices it and asks you about the reason behind it. He encourages you for keep trying, especially if you feel stuck and lack motivation.

I feel like if you try hard enough, you could convince him to draw with you. Hermes would expect some kind of tutorial from you, but after his first work it turns out that he has experience and was just playing along.

Hermes doesn’t have favourite type of painting, because he believes that everything can positively surprise him, but he really enjoy seeing first raw sketch of your work and then its final version, for comparisons.

Sketch it as much as you want, at any moment and how you see fit. Hermes doesn’t mind being watched, in fact he really likes feeling your eyes on him.

Your favourite place to relax was the garden at Olympus in the morning, when everyone was busy with their duties or hadn't even started their day yet. You sat on a bench surrounded by perfectly trimmed hedges and trees, and the silence disturbed only by chirping of birds and the occasional wind whistling. You turned yourself off. Perhaps you shouldn’t. Otherwise, you would have notice earlier that someone appeared next to you. — That looks good — said Hermes in his flawless butler uniform. — I-I-I was just-! It’s… — you hid your sketchbook behind your back, feeling how you cheeks got warm. — A very good sketch of naked me — Hermes finished the sentence for you with a playful smile. You gave in to that smile, and burst out laughing. — Okay, you got me — you tucked your hair behind your ear — I was just practising silhouettes, and then I thought about you and… — you shrugged, embarrassed. — Well I supposed it’s my fault. I've been very absent lately, haven't I? Hermes sat down next to you. — You… aren’t you busy now? — you asked, a bit surprised, because you didn't remember the last morning you spent together. — I’m, but who would I be if I couldn't manage dozen or so minutes for you, y/n? — he smiled again, but this time it was a rare kind of smile that Hermes almost never presented. A genuine smile that wasn't the result of politeness or manners. — May I see the rest of it? — he asked. Without thinking, you handed over sketchbook to Hermes. It’s foolish of you to assume that he only wanted to see your unfinished work. — D-don’t! — you said, but it was too late. Hermes started to leaf through every sketch you had ever drew, including the inappropriate ones. And there was a whole lot of him there. You’ve shown him some of them before, but not every single one. After all, you didn’t want him to know this side of you… too well. It wasn’t lady like. — Well… — Hermes’ voice sounded as polite as always — It seems I’ve neglected you very much. Your cheeks burned to the core and Hermes clearly enjoyed that sight. His red eyes sparkled with joy, and if you weren’t so embarrassed you might have hit him for it. — I think you did… — you found yourself saying. You bit your lower lip. — Eh, what can I say? It’s all your fault! You’re such a good model — you shrugged, trying not to smile too broadly — My hands just want to draw you! Hermes stared at you for a moment. If you didn’t know him, you’d probably assume he was thinking of some sort of riposte, but years of being together had taught you that the only thing that could match his practiced politeness was his sharp mind. To your surprise, Hermes took your hand and started massaging it gently, the fabric of his glove was warm and soft. He caressed your fingers, touched your wrist, even checked your pulse for a moment. There was something very relaxing and natural about his moves, because for a moment you forgot how busy he was and that he would have to return to his duties soon. — Have I mentioned that my favourite part of your body are hands? — he asked you after a long silence. You shook your head in denial, which encouraged him to expand his thoughts — It’s not just the matter of these graceful fingers. Nor is it a matter of what you can create with them. I feel I adore them so, because whenever I’m bored with duties, I find solace in fantasizing about how these hands will take care of me later. Your eyes met again and you could have sworn you saw something rare in his pupils, but it was quickly hidden behind Hermes' playful nature. He stood up. — Well, I should get back to my duties now — he adjusted the flaps of his jacket — Please, dear, keep these sketches to yourself, because they’re very accurate — he winked.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Life Cycles

Read on Ao3 Masterlist

*banging pots and pans together* WAKE UP ASSHOLES ETHAN WINTERS IS BACK IN ALL HIS MOLDED GLORY AND YES WE ARE HERE FOR IT TO BE OUR PROBLEMS (special shout out to @justanormiewhoreads and @gigi-the-bear because yes this is sort of for you two specifically ^-^)

Eveline is back because i love her and she deserves to be

Chris Leon Rose and Ethan are about to become the world's most awkward family of BOWs and anti-BOW operatives and I'm about to make that your problem

(mia's not in this one sorry but she'll have her time too i promise)

((also for further down the pipeline i need you all to start getting excited about the Winters roasting the absolute SHIT out of Resident Edgelord Albert Wesker bc I had this image of Rose calling him a Matrix reject to his face and couldn't stop laughing for about an hour so i need you guys to laugh with me))

Warnings: disarming (hah) bc it's ethan but also bc it's ethan he's fine 2 seconds later

Pairings: implied/hinted winterfield

Word Count: 10,170

The first time he talks to Eveline, really actually talks, is right after he 'dies' from his 'injuries' from the battle with Miranda. Yes, the quotes are necessary, because if he doesn't put them there, he does dangerous things like thinking he's alive and has a body that can get up and go find his daughter and give her a big, huge, actual hug because he's sad, goddammit, that he can't do that because he's not alive.

Anyway. Miranda. 'Dying.' Rose being the best thing in the whole world and a fucking badass and then still being his baby girl, holding his hand to her cheek as the world turned to glowing white motes of light around them.

He remembers being in pain, drained in the way that came from trying to do too much on too little that he's gotten used to after Dulvey. He remembers being happy that he got to see his daughter, even if only for a little bit, and that he could tell her how sorry he was, how much he loved her, how proud she makes him every single day. He remembers watching her fade away, feeling the warmth of her touch grow cold, and closing his eyes. Who knew, if Miranda could die some final death in here, maybe he could too.

Alas, if there was one thing he could count on when the world went to shit, it was that the universe was determined that he wouldn't stay dead. He has a vague memory of some priest telling him that being able to wake up after an awful night was God's way of telling you He loved you and a much less vague memory of thinking that if God really did love him, he'd better not pull that shit anymore. But Ethan's religious days were behind him—quite a long way behind him—and the only God he believes in now doesn't exist.

He drags himself up off the cold, flat plains, grimacing at the slime congealing on his palms. There are not enough towels in this hellscape to make it leave completely, or any towels at all, so he wipes them on his pants as best he can and looks around. He's actually managed to stay manifested, which is not something he'd expected, so maybe there's something worth exploring down here. He picks a direction and starts to walk. Fog roils around him and he suppresses a shudder. Black mold runs along the ground in rivulets like some great beast bleeding out over the plains and he does his best to stick to the drier parts, picking his way along the ground until he comes to a wider river. A quick glance up and down shows not much in the way of a bridge or even a drier spot, and testing his luck with the depth doesn't sound like the smartest idea.

He's about to turn around and try the other direction when he hears a quiet sound coming from just out of sight to his left. He pauses, tilting his head. No, that's—that's definitely someone crying.

His first thought is that Rose got stuck. Maybe she was on her way back to the real world and something went wrong. Maybe he fucked up by giving her his power and tied her here somehow. But even as he starts toward her—fatherly instincts have his body moving before he registers it—he knows that's not true. Rose doesn't sound like that when she cries. He knows it.

But then who else could it be?

The answer comes to him too slowly and too quickly all at once. Eveline. That's Eveline crying. It's the same he heard from up in that recreation of the Beneviento House, after she'd thrown her tantrum at Rose and worn herself out, collapsing on her knees and sobbing that no one loved her. Something in his chest tugs at that—no child, no matter who they were, should ever feel uncertain about being loved.

Granted, this child was a genetically engineered bioweapon that ruined innocent lives and made his life a living hell, but still. Ethan likes to think that he's retained enough of his own sense of self to know that he still believes in silly little things like compassion.

He keeps walking along the riverbank, trying to follow the sound, but it keeps being thrown about in the fog. One second it sounds like it's coming from vaguely in front of him, the next it's behind him, then across the river, then right behind him, then in front of him again. Still, there's a tug in his gut as he keeps moving forward, some invisible tether leading him right to Eveline. He pushes the fear about that particular revelation aside in favor of crying child, find the crying child.

Bleeding heart, get him killed, too soft, too sensitive, blah, blah, blah. He died in 2017, that isn't exactly sticking. He'll take his bleeding heart, thanks.

It's almost anticlimactic when he finds her. Sure enough, she's huddled in a ball on the edge of the river, her waders pulled high up her legs, her hands tangled in her filthy skirts. He stops a good distance away—just because he cares doesn't mean he's not wary, after all—and crouches slightly.

"Eveline?"

Her head whips around. She stares at him with wide eyes, mouth open slightly. He holds out a hand.

"I'm not going to—'

"Back off!"

He winces when a wave of her telekenetic power slams into him, but it's weaker than he remembers. He holds his ground, hand still raised. "I'm not here to hurt you, Eveline."

"Leave me alone! Get away from me!" She grabs a handful of the mold and throws it at him, her power making it splatter across his face. "I hate you!"

Now, the smart thing to do would be to leave. Eveline is telling him in no uncertain terms that she wants to be left alone. He should not be confronting a bioweapon this powerful like this. Everyone he knows, he's sure, Chris, Mia, the rest of Chris's soldiers, hell, even Rose, they would tell him to leave.

But the smart thing to do would also not be to go get his wife in a tiny town in Louisiana off one email after she'd been presumed dead for three years, and that ship sailed years ago. Literally.

So, Ethan Winters does what he does best, and sets his jaw. "I'm not gonna leave you, Eveline."

To his—and her—surprise, she hesitates before she throws the next bit of mold. He stays there, crouched on the ground, just watching her. Her eyes narrow.

"Why? What do you want?"

"You were crying."

"Shut up!" She throws it again, but it's even weaker. "That doesn't matter! You're so dumb, can't you just leave me alone?"

"Why were you crying?"

"Stupid Rose ruined everything! She came in here and made everything worse and now it's all ruined!"

He bites back the instinctive don't call my daughter stupid. "What did she ruin?"

"Everything!"

"The house? The mold? Miranda? I don't understand."

"You're so dumb. You didn't know you were dead, or that you were made of mold. Of course you don't understand."

"Then help me understand." He takes a seat on the cold, damp ground as Eveline eyes him trepidatiously. "What did she ruin, Eveline?"

She glares at him for another few seconds before looking away, eyes on the river of black mold. "She wasn't supposed to come here. I was supposed to go out there."

Cold chills shoot down Ethan's spine. "You…you want to go back?"

"Obviously. It sucks here. I don't want to be trapped here for the rest of my life. I want to go back out there. Miranda always thought she was so smart, that she could just use the mold to make her stupid daughter come back but she was stupid too. That's not how it works. She's not mold, she can't make it do anything."

"And you can?"

Eveline glares at him again. "I'm the smart one. I'm the strong one. I can do anything! My powers are so much better than Rose's. All she can do is shoot and dodge. I can make things just by thinking about them, I can control the mold more than Miranda and Rose ever could. Obviously I can do it better."

Okay. This was fine. This was totally fine. This is a perfectly normal thing to say, there was no reason for him to panic, this is fine.

"…so what did Rose ruin?"

Eveline doesn't say anything. Instead, she stands up and disappears into the ground. Ethan sighs, burying his face in his hands. Great. He's trapped here with the remnant of the child bioweapon responsible for his death and the rest of his misery. And he's just learned she wants to go back.

This is fine.

***

"We don't know what we're going to find," Chris barks as the rest of the team lines up next to the already whirring chopper, "so be prepared for anything. We start at the north end of the village, then work our way—"

"Chris," Leon interrupts, nodding to something over his shoulder. He turns.

Rosemary Winters is striding towards them across the runway. Several agents are staring at her and Chris swallows heavily. She looks pissed. He can't really blame her.

"Rose—"

"I'll fucking break your nose, Redfield." She doesn't even break stride as she marches right past him and onto the chopper. The rest of the squad just moves out of her way.

He doesn't blame them either.

Leon slaps him on the shoulder as they follow her in, strapping in for takeoff. With only a moment's hesitation, he sits right next to her, Leon on her other side. She's staring straight ahead, still glaring, but her fingers are trembling ever so slightly. As soon as they're in the air and he's pretty sure no one except Leon will notice, he takes her hand in his and holds it tight.

If she notices his fingers trembling too, she doesn't say anything.

***

Eveline isn't too fond of it when he figures out he can talk to Rose the same way he could when she was in the upper stratum. It takes a lot of focus. So much so that when he comes out of talking to Rose about her new room decorations—really, he's half convinced if he could harness the outrage at the thought of his daughter being in basically a cell for most of her life, he'd be out of here in no time—he actually has to take a second to register that his hand is missing again.

Then he realizes that his hand is missing again and screams.

"Oh, shut up," comes a grumble to his right and his severed hand hits him in the face, "don't be such a big baby."

He puts his hand back on quickly—and doesn't think about the fact that he can just do that—and glares at Eveline, who doesn't look the least bit repentant. She crosses her arms, tapping her foot. "Why did you do that?"

"You weren't listening to me. I had to get your attention."

"So you cut off my hand?"

She shrugs. "You didn't even feel it and it's not like it matters here. You're fine, see?"

"That's not the point! Don't just cut my hand off!"

"How else am I supposed to get your attention when you're doing your stupid glassy-eyed staring thing?"

"Wait for me to be done? Does that sound reasonable to you?" Eveline just scowls and he sighs. "What did you want?"

She scuffs the toe of her boot along the moldy ground. "You promised to go on a walk with me."

That's right—they'd started going on walks together. Once they established that trying to kill each other wouldn't do anything—they were already both dead and any damage Eveline did to Ethan he'd just heal anyway—they'd started just…walking around. No talking necessary, no actual sense of companionship, but there was only so much to do in the mold flatlands, so…walking it was.

"And you couldn't wait until I was done?"

Eveline's face darkens. "You promised we'd go soon. Then you started doing the dumb staring thing—"

"That 'dumb staring thing' is me talking to my daughter."

"—exactly, the dumb staring thing, and when you do that, you go away for a long time and you promised we'd go soon." She nods her head like she's won a great debate. "So. Now we can go."

He sighs, looking down at his hand. It still moves as good as it ever did, and it's not like he can die of blood loss in here, so he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Next time, just tug on my sleeve or something? Unless that didn't work?"

"I tried that. I tried shouting at you too. You didn't react to anything until I cut off your hand, but I don't think that really worked either. Maybe I should try—"

"Maybe we should figure out a way for you to get my attention without hurting me," he interrupts as they start walking along the river. She scoffs.

"Nothing hurts in here. They're not real bodies. They're just mold."

"I was 'just mold' for years and let me tell you, things definitely still hurt."

"But you were out there—" Eveline waves a hand at the sky— "that's different. That doesn't count."

He ignores that for now. "Things still hurt in here too, Eveline."

"No, they don't." He frowns, before reaching out a hand. She glares at it as it moves closer. "What are you doing?"

"Can I touch you?"

"No. Gross. Why?"

"I want to know if you can feel things."

"Don't be an idiot, of course I can feel things." He stops walking. Eveline huffs and stamps her foot again. "Why are you being extra stupid today?"

"Humor me. Sometimes I have days where I need to be extra stupid. If you help me, I'll stop needing to be extra stupid faster."

"Fine." She stomps back over to him. "What do you want to do, just touch me?"

"Close your eyes."

"Why, so you can stab me?"

"What? No, why would I do that? I think between the two of us, you're the stabbier one."

"You already stabbed me! Then you killed me!"

Oh. Oh, yeah, he…he did do that, didn't he? Granted, it was with a toxin and not a knife, but stabbing most definitely did happen and he was the one that did it.

Eveline scoffs again. "What, don't tell me you forgot how you killed me."

"I…I'm not going to stab you. I want to see if you can tell when I'm touching you, that's all."

"Gross."

"Just hold your hand out, okay?" He holds his out to as a peace offering. "Hold my hand."

"This is stupid." But she does it. "There, I'm holding your hand. I can tell I'm holding your hand. Are you happy now? Can you stop being stupid?"

"Now leave your hand there and close your eyes." She grumbles under her breath as he lets go but keeps her hand there and closes her eyes. "Okay. You can open them again when you feel me grab your hand, okay?"

"I'm not an idiot, I get it."

"Okay, okay."

He waits for a few seconds, just to see if she'll actually listen to him or if she's just going to call him stupid and keep going on their walk. Granted, he's not exactly sure why he's doing this either. He never was the scientist between them, but he does have a bit too much curiosity for his own good. Slowly, he reaches out and takes Eveline's hand in his.

She doesn't move. Doesn't open her eyes.

Her hand is small. Too small. Her fingers are cold, a little sticky, but not from the mold. He has the impulse to rub his thumb along her knuckles to warm her up, so he does. Back and forth, back and forth. He keeps waiting for her eyes to open.

They don't.

Something terribly, terribly sad settles in his chest and for the first time since arriving here, he feels a little bit cold.

"Are you gonna get on with it already?" She shifts her weight. "I'm getting bored."

"Eveline," he says, far too gently.

"What?" She cracks one eye open and sees his hand in hers, his thumb rubbing across her knuckles. Her eyes go wide, her breath comes out in a big rush, and then she rips her hand away from him. "Don't do that again!"

His arm stays outstretched, even as she turns away from him, hunching her shoulders. She takes several deep breaths, each a little shakier than the last.

"I don't want to walk with you today," she declares, and disappears.

His hand tingles with the memory of her cold little fingers in his, aching tenderly.

***

They land on a cliff face high above the wreckage of the village. Leon winces at the bite of the cold air, tugging his jacket closer to himself as Chris barks orders to the rest of the squad. They fan out and start moving. Working with Chris is as seamless as ever, except that there's an unarmed teenager standing by the helicopter still.

"Rose, on me."

"Coming." She trots over and slips in behind them. He moves closer as Chris edges slightly in front. "Sorry. Got distracted."

"Stay focused. This isn't a drill."

"I know."

He sees Chris's hands tense slightly and glances at Rose. He drops back a little more to keep her in between them. She notices and her mouth twitches but she doesn't say anything. They move through the forest, down a snowy slope, into a thicker grove of trees.

"Any idea where we might need to look?"

"Sensors picked up something near the detonation site, not far off from where the Megamycete used to be. Chances are it's nothing, but if—"

"Look out!"

Leon's gun aims at the tree line as a massive cracking sound rips through the air. If Rose had yanked Chris back half a second later, he'd be at the bottom of the gorge that their cliff just collapsed into. They all stand there, panting heavily, until their comms start chirping. Everyone's alright, no one got caught or was injured.

"We'll need to head back. Further along the mountain there's a safer way down."

"No." Rose stares off into the trees for a second. "There's an old bridge over here that will take us to the outskirts of the castle."

"How do you know?"

"The mold's everywhere in the ground here. I can…I can feel it."

Well, that's a great start to anything if you ask Leon. Chris is clearly working through the same issue before he sighs, pats her gently on the shoulder, and motions for her to stay behind him. She does, but there's a furrow in her brow that wasn't there before.

"Hey," he calls quietly, and she turns to him, "stay focused, remember? Need you to help me haul Redfield back from anymore collapsing cliffs."

"I heard that."

***

Eveline doesn't talk to him for—well, he'd say for a few days but time's weird here. It bothers him more than it should. He tries to find her, but she wasn't lying when she said she understood the mold way better than he did, and he might as well be wandering around with a blindfold and earplugs for all the success he has.

Then he has a fight with Rose and he spends hours silently pleading for her to look and see how sorry he is. It takes everything in him to keep those words there, to keep himself aware enough to be there. Everything narrows down to the dusty floorboards, the sound of Rose sobbing, the thump-thump of her heartbeat. Nothing else in the world matters, could matter, nothing except for the part of him he's pushing through the mold to write out i'm sorry rose.

Rose forgives him. He forgives her. Of course he does, she's his daughter. She asks him to stay until she falls asleep and he does, glowing from the floor until her heart rate slows and he finally, finally sinks back into the mold flatlands.

And blinks, because Eveline is sitting there, holding his hand.

"He—"

"You were gone a long time," she says bluntly, "I thought you were really dead."

He swallows. His throat is dry. Is he lying down? "I'm back now."

Her mouth twists. She looks down at their hands. Her fingers are clumsily clutching his, hers too-white against his slimy, slightly moldy ones. The chill still surprises him but he swallows it—with difficultly.

"Thank you for not cutting my hand off."

"I didn't know it hurt you."

"Can—can you feel this?" He squeezes her fingers. "Does that hurt?"

"No, it doesn't hurt." Her mouth twists again. "I know I'm holding your hand, but it—it's like I remember it."

He pushes himself to an elbow, wincing at the strain in his body. He really overdid it this time, not that he's surprised. "You feel cold to me."

"I do?"

"Like a little ice cube."

"I remember being cold," she says, and now she actually sounds like a child, reminiscing about something, "the ship was really cold. The house—the house was nice and warm, though."

"The Baker House?"

"Yeah. D—Jack brought me upstairs and tucked me into bed. It was so soft."

He rubs his thumb over her knuckles before the thinks better of it. Her fingers twitch but she doesn't pull away. He pushes himself up until he's sitting next to her, still holding her hand. "Romania was cold. Really cold. I was worried I was gonna get frostbite."

"The mold wouldn't have let you. You would've just healed from it."

"Oh."

"It's really good at staying in shapes. That's why Miranda was so powerful here and why she could make copies of Rose and the Duke and the dolls."

"And why you and I are here?"

Eveline shifts, bringing her knees up to her chest. "We're—we're different. Rose is different too. They made me from the mold, just like she was made from the mold."

"Uh—" Is he going to have to explain to Eveline how babies are made?

"You were mold already when you made her, stupid."

"But then what does that make me? I wasn't made from the mold, not originally."

Eveline's face pinches, but she doesn't look mad. She squeezes his hand and he squeezes back out of reflex. "You're…complicated."

He can't help but chuckle. "I think that's the first time anyone's ever called me complicated."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I've always been pretty boring. I had a decent childhood, a boring job…I wasn't anything special, just a simple, boring person."

"You're not boring."

"Hey," he says, lightly bumping her shoulder with his elbow, "I think that was almost a compliment."

"Shut up. You're boring sometimes."

He laughs again. They're still holding hands. The black river gurgles next to them. After a while, Eveline looks up at him again. "What?"

"You weren't supposed to come back."

"In Dulvey?"

She nods. "Jack killed you and you were supposed to come back to life, but you weren't supposed to come back."

That's…not what he was expecting to hear. "I thought you brought me there so Mia and I could be your parents. Why do that just to have Jack kill me?"

Her face twists up again and before she can pull away, he grabs her other hand. She flinches a little but settles, refusing to look at him. Her jaw clenches.

"She wanted you," she spits out, "I thought—I thought—never mind. This is stupid."

"It's not stupid, Eveline. If it matters to you—"

"It doesn't!" She rips her hands away and stands up. "It doesn't matter anymore, all of them are gone. You shouldn't spend so much time staring like that, you'll get hurt and then I'll have no one to walk with me. We're walking soon."

She's gone before he can say another word. He sighs, wincing as he gets to his feet. Christ, he feels like he's gone ten rounds with Chris on a bad day, and then some. Maybe he did overdo it this time—okay, okay, he definitely did, but Rose was upset. What was he supposed to do, leave? Not likely.

Okay. So. Rose and Eveline, the same when it comes to the mold. Sort of. On some level. Him, not the same. Complicated. Not supposed to be him, whatever that meant. Something to do with Mia. Doesn't everything at this point come back to that? Not for the first time, he wonders what his life would be like if he hadn't married Mia, and then quickly decides not to pursue that train of thought. Wouldn't lead anywhere good.

Almost unconsciously, he turns to look at the black river, watching it ooze its way along the flat, icy, muddy, moldy ground. He kicks a clump of it over. It sticks to his boot. The faint smell of rotting plants meets his nose. He wonders if that's just a memory from Louisiana, or if it's actually here. If Eveline couldn't feel things, it made sense that maybe he didn't have all of his senses either.

Speaking of complicated…he has no clue when he started to care about Eveline, and he doesn't really know what to do with this knowledge now that he has it. Eveline is a child, yes, but still a bioweapon, still unrepentant about what she did, still would very much ruin his life if she had the chance, probably. But they're both stuck here, and from the looks of it, they're not really going anywhere anytime soon.

And she had…changed.

He looks down at his hand. How long had she been holding it before he came back here? Had she debated cutting it off instead? And if she did think he was really dead, like she said, why was she still sitting there, holding his hand?

The way she talked about the warmth of the Baker house, the way she almost called Jack 'Dad,' the way she talked about being tucked into bed…he has a sudden flash of memory of being tormented in the Beneviento House, chased by the giant baby monster, and nearly breaking down all over the Duke as soon as he was out of there. Because yeah, that thing had been absolutely terrifying, but the worst part was that it was so sad. It reached into some deep part of him, the part that was screaming over carrying his daughter around in flasks, the part the was mourning his wife—or so he thought—and he had the equally terrifying urge to try and comfort it. It was a near thing, not sobbing in front of the Duke, because it seemed so lonely and so scared and so, so sad, and Ethan knew what that felt like.

He looks off toward the river again and pats his pockets. When he goes to meet Eveline for their walk, he holds out a pair of gloves. She eyes them like they're a dead animal.

"What are those for?"

"Your hands. If you get cold."

"I can't feel it, dummy," even as she takes them. She pulls them on and grumbles: "they don't even fit right."

"You don't have to wear them."

She glares at him like he's an idiot and turns on her heel, beginning to walk along the river. He follows, easily catching up. They walk in silence for a while. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches her playing with the empty parts of the too-big fingers. He says nothing about it.

"I'm keeping these," she announces when they've walked far enough that day, "you aren't getting them back."

"You're welcome."

"Shut up," but it's said a little quieter than usual.

***

The ground feels like it's tingling under her boots. She's trying to focus, she really is, but it's hard when it feels like she's walking on a constantly vibrating…thing. Every now and then she has to give herself a shake before Chris or Leon can call her out on it, but she's pretty sure they're noticing anyway.

"Hey," Leon says quietly when Chris responds to someone over comms, "you doing okay?"

"I'm fine. Just…feels weird."

"What does?"

"The ground. It's like it's humming or something."

"Well, if it sounds like it's gonna bust out old show tunes, you give us a heads-up, deal?"

She huffs a laugh. "Not like that. Like it's—okay, you know how those old video game controllers would like, rumble when you got close to stuff in-game?"

"Jeez, kid, you're making me feel like I'm ancient over here."

"We are ancient," Chris grunts, "at least in this game. What about them, Rose?"

"It sort of feels like it's trying to…guide me somewhere."

Both of them stop, turning to look at her. She rolls her eyes.

"Not in a bad way, it doesn't feel like Miranda or anything is doing it on purpose. But it's a living thing, it's…living. It's reacting."

They exchange another one of those glances. "You let us know if it changes in any way, okay?"

"Sure."

"Come on. Umber Eyes says there's a building up ahead where we can rest for a minute."

***

Something weird is happening, and for Ethan, that's saying something. He's started…feeling things. Not like how he and Rose can share feelings if he's talking to her, but he's able to…feel things. It takes him less time than he'd care to admit to bring it up with Eveline.

"You're the main Host now, so it makes sense."

He blinks. And blinks again. "I'm the what?"

She rolls her eyes, looking up from where she's fiddling with the gloves—he tries not to be too proud at how much she likes them. "You're the mold's last body, or last hope of a body. Your thing is being able to heal yourself from pretty much anything, and you weren't actually super destroyed when you set the bomb off. So you're the main Host."

"But I'm…dead."

"Yeah, and? The Black God doesn't care."

"The black what?"

"God, you are stupid. Don't you pay attention?"

"I've had other things to worry about, okay?"

"Yeah, like Rose." She's caught on to the fact that he doesn't like it when she refers to Rose as his 'stupid daughter,' but that doesn't mean she suddenly likes her. "The Black God. The thing that's in charge. The fungal root that ate the bodies of the people in the village. It wants to live, obviously, but it's weak now because you and Rose killed Miranda so well, so now it's trying to get out."

"Through…me?" Eveline shrugs. "Wait, wait, but does that mean that it could steal my body? Is this what you meant by saying I wasn't supposed to come back?"

"I don't know everything," she snaps, "I just know more than you. I don't know what it wants, it's not like I can ask it. I can just feel it moving. Is that what you're feeling?"

"Not really. It's more—it's more like I can feel a bunch of things moving. Like there are bugs crawling on me but they don't feel like bugs."

Eveline goes quiet for a moment, staring off into space. One of the gloves falls into her lap with a low smacking sound.

"What is it?"

"Bugs," she says under her breath, "she liked the bugs."

Ah. Right. Marguerite Baker's 'gift' from Eveline, also known as why Ethan has a personal relationship with many pesticides now. He stays quiet, though, watching Eveline think. After a while, he gently prompts her: "did you choose what gifts to give them?"

Eveline shrugs. "They sort of…took it for themselves."

"How do you mean?"

"The mold is weird. It wants you but it wants you to want it too, so it…tries to give you want you want. Sort of. Jack got to be strong to protect his family."

"Why did Marguerite get bugs, then?"

"I don't know. I don't know what she wanted. Just like I don't know what Rose wants." She sneaks a glance up at him. "Or what you want."

Ethan falls quiet. He thinks about Louisiana, about finding Mia, about losing her all over again in Romania, about Rose, about dying again and again and again. He looks down at Eveline, still watching him expectantly.

"I wanted to live," he says, as quiet as the black river.

"…oh." After a moment, she shuffles close enough to press against his side. "That's not a stupid thing to want."

"I'm glad you think so."

She's cold, pressed up against him. She's still playing with the gloves. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, looking at the river. They're sitting on one of the less moldy parts of the bank, watching the flow of it through the fog. It's almost warm in the weird, grey, not-sunlight.

"What did you mean, when you said they felt like bugs but not bugs?"

"Bugs skitter. These sort of feel like they're…walking."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Like—like people walking?"

"Sometimes. Normally not, though. They're too small."

"But like—do you feel like the ground?"

"Huh?"

"The ground. Like if a bunch of things were walking on you at once, and you could feel all of them."

He thinks. Then he thinks some more. Then he nudges her shoulder with his. "Look at you, smarty-pants."

"I told you I was smart," she preens, and he laughs and she grins. Then he holds out his hand, palm up, and she stops smiling. "What?"

"Wanna help me figure out what's going on with me?"

"Really?"

He shrugs. "Unless you just wanna go on walks forever."

She looks at the river, then at his hand. She drops one of the gloves into her lap and reaches back. Her hand is still cold, but she squeezes. "What should we do first?"

"Well," he sighs as he looks around, "we should probably figure out a bit more about where exactly we are. I know we can get to different strata, and we can manifest stuff if we're strong enough, but how far does that go? Can we just…make anything? Is there anyone else here?"

"You have so many questions," she accuses, "how 'm I supposed to know?"

"Our questions now. We're in this together."

Eveline looks at him for a long second before she's yanking him up and away from the river. He gives a small shout of surprise when his arm is nearly torn out of his socket, but he follows her until they reach a flatter part of the plains and she drops it.

"Make something."

"What?"

"Make something." She folds her arms. "Go on. You need to get a better grasp of how the mold works? Make something with it."

You're as bad as Chris, he thinks but doesn't say, and closes his eyes. Concentrates. Pictures something in his hands and when he opens them, there's Rose's little stuffed monkey, right there in front of him. For a moment it's almost like he's in their house, in Romania, he's holding Rose in one arm and playing with the monkey in the other—

"Why'd you make that?"

Eveline's voice jolts him from his reverie. He sighs, cradling the little plush thing in his hands. "It's the thing I think about the most."

"The monkey? Or Rose?"

"Both, I guess. This was…" he has to pause to swallow, "this was the last moment where I thought everything was gonna be okay. Something was wrong with Mia, Rose was—she'd just read this creepy story, and all I wanted to do was hold onto Rose and—"

He sighs.

"No use thinking about that now, I suppose," he says quietly and the monkey fades from view right before his eyes. "Sorry. I'll, uh, I'll make something else."

Eveline's suspiciously quiet. She doesn't even call him stupid. She just kicks some of the frozen mud and waits. He pauses, brow furrowing, before deciding this is something he can ask her about later. He strays away from the guns, the first aid bottles, the white sage, trying for something else, something from him, something that might help him understand the mold better…

…and when he opens his eyes, he's holding a tiny notebook.

"What's that for?"

"When I was a kid, my mom used to get me little notebooks and drawing pads for me to keep in my pockets. Apparently, I had a problem with daydreaming and stuff, so she thought that if I had a place to put all of them, they wouldn't stay in my head so much and I could…I dunno, focus or whatever." He snorts. "I remember I used to write down stories or draw made-up creatures and refuse to show them to anyone."

"Like having a diary?"

"Sort of." He flips it over and to his surprise, there's his writing. His horrible, scratchy, imperfect writing, but this isn't a story he would've written when he was that young. No, this is…this is…

Eveline edges closer. "What's wrong? You look upset."

"It's…it's what I would've done," he mumbles, eyes still transfixed by the story on the too-small pages, "when I was upset, I'd write…I'd write how I wish it would've gone. This is—it's the story I would've told myself if this happened to me when I was a kid."

"I told you," she says, "it wants you to want it, so it tries to give you what it thinks you want. Do…do you want that story?"

There's a hesitance in her voice that makes him look up. She's not meeting his gaze anymore. He looks back at the pages. "I don't think so."

"Really? Isn't it better than what actually happened?"

"Yeah, but it's not—it's not me."

"What do you mean, it's not you? Aren't you the simple boring guy?"

"Hey," he says, lightly shoving her. She barely reacts. "It's—oh, god, how do I put this? That story would be nice, yeah, but it'd get…me. This version of me from my messed-up story. The version of me that had all the awful stuff happen to me."

"So?"

"So, I wouldn't know what to do. I need to—god, I didn't think I'd ever talk about my marriage problems with you of all people, but I needed to talk about Louisiana." Is he having second thoughts about spilling this information to Eveline? Maybe, but that's a problem for later him. "Mia wanted to pretend like it never happened, and I couldn't do that. So if I got—if I were in that story, where it didn't happen there, I might—I think it'd make me crazy."

He looks down at the notebook and concentrates. After a moment, the pages shimmer and go blank. He holds it up for her to see.

"There, that's better."

"I guess."

He frowns at her sudden lack of enthusiasm, putting the notebook in his pocket—it fits perfectly. "Your turn."

"Me?"

"Yeah. You make something."

"I'm not the one who needs to practice," she says mulishly.

"So show me how it's done."

She glares at the ground—at the ground, not even at him, they've made more progress than he thought—before she holds out her hand and a pencil appears. She thrusts it at him without looking up. "You forgot to make something to write with."

"Thank you."

"Shut up."

"Most people just say 'you're welcome,' but I get what you mean." He laughs when she glares at him. "What else should I be practicing?"

***

They reach the building and duck inside. Chris checks his tablet and the team reports in: nothing yet. Leon's doing the least subtle once-over of Rose he's ever seen the man do and Rose holds out her arms and turns around until he shakes his head with a huff. Chris glances outside and catches sight of what used to be a lycan's arm crushed under a mountain of rubble.

"We need to keep moving."

They get back outside and down into the remnants of a street before Rose suddenly stops.

"Rose? You okay?"

"Rose," Leon calls, shaking her shoulder, "Rose!"

"There's someone over there," she whispers, and both of them immediately close ranks, guns at the ready.

"Where?"

"Up around the corner. I—I don't know what they're doing here."

"Stay behind me, stay quiet."

Out of all the things he was expecting, the truly massive man sitting in the back of a wagon was not one of them.

"Ah, there you are," he says, clapping his hands as though they're old friends coming to dinner, "I was beginning to think you'd lost your way."

"Who the hell are you?"

"Please, call me the Duke."

***

"You're crying."

Ethan blinks. He's been with Rose and Chris again—god, he actually talked to Chris, and Rose, and he's overdone it, he's tired, so tired, but Eveline is sitting next to him—he's lying down, when did he lie down again?—and he's crying?

He swipes at his face with the hand that she's not holding and it comes away wet. "Oh. Huh. Look at that."

His voice is all shaky too. Eveline just keeps squeezing his hand every few seconds, the gesture unpracticed and uncertain, but terribly endearing. He lets out another shuddering breath and makes himself sit up. She grabs onto his shoulder with her other hand.

"Thanks."

"What happened? Is Rose—are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Rose is fine too. She, um…" He puts a hand to his head to try and dull the pain. "Something upsetting happened to her and it went…it went really badly."

"Was she hurt?"

"Sort of. There was this guy that was supposed to help train her and he just ended up making a huge mess…he made Rose really upset and then everyone overreacted—"

"'Cause Rose is a bioweapon."

"…yeah." He decides to leave out the part where the thing that made Rose really angry was the implication that it was Chris's fault he was dead. "I wanted to tell her that it was gonna be okay."

"But she is a bioweapon," Eveline says, and it says something that she's not spitting it or holding it smugly over his head, "she's not…no one's going to like her."

"Chris likes her. The rest of his team like her."

"Well, yeah, but they have to."

He frowns. "They don't have to. I mean—I think they have to 'cause I'm biased, but there's nothing that says they have to like her."

"But you gave Rose to Chris. That means he has to like her."

"I certainly hoped he would—he seemed to like her enough already whenever he came over, but there wasn't—Chris Redfield is a lot of things, but he's stubbornly loyal." He sighs. "I may have…taken advantage of that."

"So he does have to like her."

Thank god she didn't ask more about that, because he has no idea what the fuck he'd say to it. "He was obligated to take care of her, but I think he likes her outside of that too."

"But you don't know."

"I'm pretty sure. Like, 95% sure."

Eveline goes quiet while he focuses on getting himself back in this version of his body. It takes less time than he expects, mainly because he hasn't done this since that first night where he really overdid it, but also because he and Eveline have been practicing more. The pain fades almost immediately but the fatigue sticks around. Ah, well, can't win them all. He settles back more comfortably, bringing Eveline's hand down by his knee, watching the black river.

"Why were you crying?"

"Because I miss them."

"But they're—" she cuts herself off before she can finish. He frowns, squeezing her hand.

"But they're what?"

"They're happy without you. They're fine. They don't need you. Why would you miss them?"

He tilts his head. "She's—Rose is my daughter."

"You keep saying that like it means something."

"It does! She's my—she's my child. I love her, everything I did—I did it for her. I died for her, so many times, and I fought to keep her safe, to make sure she had the best chance at life she could. And yeah, I'm sad that I can't be there for her now when she does need me."

"But she doesn't need you," Eveline insists, the confusion in her voice the only thing keeping his heart from tearing out of his chest, "she has Chris."

He takes a deep breath. "You're right," he says, as much as it pains him, "she might not need me, but she—she wants me in her life still."

"Chris doesn't want you."

"Eveline," he croaks, and she looks away with something like guilt in her expression.

"He doesn't," and her voice is quieter now, "he…he told you that. Why…how can you miss him when he doesn't want or need you?"

He's quiet for a long time, playing the conversation he just had with Chris over and over in his head. Chris—Christopher fucking Redfield muffling his tears in a pillow as Ethan pushed words through it, if he hadn't literally just been there, he's not sure he would've believed it himself.

You should be here, Chris had mumbled, not me. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. It should've been me, Ethan, you—god, you deserve so much fucking better.

And he thinks about what it was like after Louisiana, in Romania, and about how there were three things that hurt the most since his life went to hell. One was when Mia cut his hand off with a chainsaw. One was when he discovered he was holding his baby daughter's head in a flask. And one was when Christopher fucking Redfield punched him in the goddamn face.

"I needed him," he says eventually, "there was a time where I really…really needed him. And he wasn't—he didn't—what I needed him to be and what he was capable of being weren't the same thing."

He's crying again. Eveline shuffles closer after a pause, pressing against his side. She's squeezing his hand tightly now, not saying a word. He sniffles, wipes his nose and wipes his hand on his pants. He's not going to think about this now. Not while he's still a mess from talking with Rose and Chris, not when he's coming the closest to talking about whatever the fuck happened with that whole mess with Eveline, of all people. You don't dump that sort of shit on a kid, not if you're Ethan Winters.

"I'm sorry for crying."

"Don't be sorry for crying, that's stupid."

"Yeah, I guess it is."

"I wish…" She trails off for a moment, then her head touches his shoulder. "I wish they could've been who you needed them to be and who you wanted them to be."

He thinks about it for a moment before letting his head rest on hers. "Yeah. I wish that were true too. Do you want to go for a walk?"

"No. I want to sit here."

The with you goes unsaid, but it warms his chest all the same. They sit in the quiet for a long while, watching the black river go by.

"Do you think I could do the same thing you can?"

"What's that?"

"Reach them. Up there."

He lets out a long breath. "I don't know. I still don't really know what part of my powers are letting me do that. I'm sure you could figure it out, smarty-pants—" here he feels her smile, just a little— "but I don't know. Are you—you're in the mold through you, right?"

She twists to look up at him with a frown. "What do you mean?"

"Well—Miranda was copied by the Black God, right? Then she made the Masked Duke and all that, the dude who lured Rose in to begin with. But you—are you here because of you?"

Eveline looks back down, frowning. She reaches out with her other hand and touches the frozen mold-mud. She slowly shakes her head back and forth. "It's…it's messy."

"How is it messy?"

"Feel it."

He reaches down to touch it too. It's slimy, yeah, but it feels the same way all the other mold feels. Just sort of gross. "I don't get it."

"I'm not connected here, not really. You pointed it out, I don't really feel things. I'm not—this isn't my mold."

Right. That's right. Eveline's mold was in Louisiana. This mold, Miranda's mold, is whatever the Connections based their stuff off of. Similar, but not the same. "Wait—then how are you here?"

Because if Eveline isn't here because of this mold, that means she's somehow here through her mold. But that wouldn't make sense, unless the mold from the Connections could reach all the way back to before they synthesized whatever made Eveline and her mold in Louisiana, which seemed…unlikely, even though they are talking about mold gods and not much seems unlikely when you start talking about mold gods. There has to be something, then, something else connecting the two molds, something allowing Eveline to manifest here…

…shit.

"Is it…me?"

"What?"

"Me," Ethan says quietly, "you—your mold brought me back first. Then when I came here, I connected with the Megamycete here, and…"

"…and then I showed up," Eveline finishes, "I'm here because of you."

It's not the revelation either of them wanted, but it is the one they needed.

"Does that mean that I could—that I could do the same thing you do? Could I talk to Rose?"

"I don't know, Eveline."

"…can I try?"

He looks down at her, at their hands wrapped around each other.

"Be careful," he says, and he's not too sure which one of them the caution's for.

He really shouldn't be thinking about stuff like this too hard, should he?

***

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Ah, Agent Kennedy." The Duke clasps his hands. "Consider this an aspect of our first-class customer service."

"How do you know who I am?"

"I make it my business to know everything about my customers, but in your case, I believe you became quite well acquainted with a personal friend of mine in Spain."

Of fucking course they know each other. Of course they do. He shakes his head. "That doesn't answer my question: what the hell are you doing here?"

The Duke's smiling expression dims slightly and his gaze turns to Rose. He sees Chris shift in front of her ever so slightly as the Duke bows his head. "Ms. Winters. A pleasure and an honor to greet you face to face."

"I've seen you before."

"Yes, and I imagine not all of them were pleasant. You have my apologies for the actions undertaken my others carrying my visage."

He glances at Chris, who looks just as clueless as he is, and decides that's not something he's gonna worry about right now.

"Is he here?"

"Yes, and I can help you find him."

Rose is about to jump at the chance when Chris holds out his arm. "What's the catch?"

"Ethan Winters is a man who has suffered an inordinate amount of pain in his life. A great many powers have tried and failed to impede him." The Duke fixes both him and Chris with a stern look. "I would not see either of you join their ranks."

"You're—you're threatening us over being nice to him?"

"Both of you represent organizations with vested interests in destroying beings like him. I cannot in good conscience guide you to him were I not certain it would be to help, not to harm."

"I trust them," Rose says, stepping in front of Chris, "if you don't take their word, take mine."

The Duke's expression softens as he looks at Rose. "On that, Ms. Winters, I have never wavered. Far be it from me to keep you from your father."

He reaches behind him and places a small token in her hand. Both him and Chris crane their necks to see it, but it doesn't look like much of anything, just a small part of…a plant? A moment later, though, Rose's veins glow white and she gasps.

"Safe travels," the Duke says, back to the sunny man he was at the beginning, "and do give Mr. Winters my best."

***

Ethan finds Eveline on the ground with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and tears on her cheeks.

"Hey, hey," he calls softly, dropping to his knees next to her, "what's wrong? Are you okay? What's going on?"

Eveline sobs and all but throws herself at his chest, all knees and elbows freezing cold. He's knocked almost onto his back, catching himself at the last minute and wrapping his arms around her. She buries her ice cube of a nose in his neck and he hisses.

"Hey," he murmurs again, rubbing up and down her back, "talk to me, what's happened?"

She just shakes her head and sobs again. He scrambles for something to do—she likes being held, or at least she indicated that she wanted to be held, so he rubs firmly up and down her back even though he knows she can't feel it. Well, wait a minute. If she's here through him, and he's the one holding her, maybe he can do something about that.

He closes his eyes and concentrates. On the feeling of having a child in his arms, a crying child at that, of having them sitting in his lap, their head under his chin. On the warmth of his breath on their head, of the weight of his arms around them. The slow movement of his chest as he encourages them to take deep breaths, the pass of his hand up and down, up and down.

Eveline shudders so hard he thinks he might drop her, a gasp tearing itself from her throat as she starts to shiver terribly, whimpering as she tries to push herself into his chest. He holds her tightly, so tightly, murmuring reassurance in her ear.

"You're okay," he says gently, "you're safe, I've got you. You're gonna be okay. Everything's gonna be okay."

He's glad the blanket is soft. To be honest, he's a little surprised Eveline was capable of making it, perhaps she pulled from the memory of the Baker house. Although, this one looks awfully familiar…

The realization slams into him. Rose has been having nightmares. Nightmares about Eveline. And this blanket looks like the one he used to wrap Rose in when he put her down on the couch.

Rose gave Eveline this blanket, he thinks with no small amount of glee, Rose was here. Rose gave Eveline something soft that she could feel.

"You're gonna be warm," he whispers next, rocking her back and forth, "you're gonna get to be all soft and warm and safe, Eveline, it's gonna be so nice. You're gonna be so warm."

God, and now it's slamming him in the face. Ethan was able to manifest here because of Rose, and with him came all their memories of family, of how much he wanted to be her dad. Ethan can still talk to Rose, and Chris, and Mia, because more than anything he wanted to live. And Eveline was alone, so alone, because no one who was supposed to love her did and she's been cold, so cold, and lonely, because she's just a kid.

She's still just a kid.

"Ethan," he hears her whimper, "Ethan, what's—what's going on?"

"I'm hugging you. You're in my lap, Eveline, I've got you. Rose gave you this nice, soft, warm blanket and I'm hugging you to help warm you up. You've been so cold, haven't you?" He runs his fingers through her hair—god, when was the last time someone touched Eveline softly?— "it's okay, I'm here now, I'm right here. I've got you."

"I'm—I'm scared, Ethan."

"Shh, it's okay. I've got you. I'm not going anywhere."

It's a long night—he assumes it's night, he always assumes it's night when he can feel Rose asleep. He holds Eveline as she cries herself out. Not to sleep, they don't really sleep, but she wears herself out enough that she just sort of goes limp in his arms, breathing softly. He keeps rocking her back and forth, smoothing his hand over her hair.

Fuck, he thinks idly, I think I'm attached to this kid.

In true Ethan Winters fashion, of course, he notices it when he's in way too deep to do anything about it, but he doesn't mind. Too much.

"Please don't leave me."

"Hm?"

"You want to go back," Eveline mumbles, the blanket still slung over her shoulders like a cape as she plays with the gloves, "you…you can go back. But I don't…I don't want to be alone again."

"Hey," he says, giving her a gentle shake, "you're here because of me, remember? Maybe you'll come with me when I leave."

"I'm gonna have a body again?"

"I don't know about that. Do you want to have a body again?"

"…not really. I don't…" She hunches in on herself. "People really hate me when I have a body. Maybe I should just be words and feelings like you are for Rose."

"Don't you leave me either, okay? I need someone to tell me when I'm being stupid."

"You're always being stupid."

"See?" He pulls her back in for another hug, making sure she can feel it. "I told you, I'm not leaving you. I promise."

"…okay."

***

She can feel him. She can feel him. She's going to vibrate out of her skin.

She can hear Chris and Leon calling for her to slow down, to be careful, to wait for them, but her heart is pounding and her powers are buzzing right under her fingertips and he's so close. She can feel him.

She gets to the top of a small hill and looks down into the valley below. Something is moving.

With a cry, she barrels toward it.

***

The sun feels weird after so long. That's the first thing he thinks. Granted, he did just dig himself out of the ground, but still. Ambient warmth is gonna take some getting used to again.

Eveline shifts just under his skin. She's not here here, just something he can feel if he focuses. He keeps his promises, after all, and he wasn't about to leave her in that flat hellscape alone. He manages to get himself all the way above ground, panting slightly as he looks around. Yep, this is very much a destroyed version of the village he spent a day and a half—was that how long it was?—roaming around, trying to get his daughter back. Fewer lycans than he remembers. Good.

Ethan Winters, very bad at staying dead.

He hears a cry from up above him. He looks up—

There she is.

There she is, in all her glory, blonde hair and baseball cap and his jacket, looking like an angel.

He almost can't believe it. Shaking, he holds out his arms.

With a cry, she bolts down the hill towards him and throws herself into his arms. She smells like gunpowder and that horrible industrial shampoo the bases and labs always used and she's crushing his leg and sobbing all over his shoulder and it's Rose, his Rosemary, he's got his daughter in his arms again.

"Rose," he sniffles, "oh, sweetie, oh, I missed you so much."

"Dad, you're alive, you're actually alive, I—" she pulls back just enough to scream back up the hill— "Chris! Leon! I found him! He's alive!"

He manages to tear his face out of her shoulder enough to blink up into the sun—yeah, definitely gonna take some getting used to—and sure enough, two more figures crest the hill.

"Oh, god," he hears, before Chris is skidding down the hill and wrapping his arms around both of them, choking on his words, "oh, god."

"Not God," he rasps, "just me."

"Ethan, holy fuck, you—Ethan."

"Well, shit, Winters," he hears Leon say, as he crouches down next to them, "guess your streak continues, huh?"

"Think this makes me three for three."

"Shut up," Rose mumbles and it's…perfect.

Yeah, he thinks as Leon gets dragged into the hug on the muddy, icy, snow-covered ground as the sun shines down on them, pretty fucking perfect.

[jellyfishzebracat]

Snippet of an rwrb fanfic I’m writing it’s a/b/o and Alex is a 29 year old law professor who meets 21 year old Henry after Henry is forcefully moved to America to study law by his grandmother.

It’s this Alex

And this Henry

Alex hadn’t always wanted to be a law professor, he’d kind of just, fallen into it.

He’d studied law at NYU and shortly after gotten a job as a paralegal but that got , stale.

So during a late night rant to his mother she’d suggested he do some more study and look into teaching as a professor.

So Alex studied and then applied for a job at the university his mother was the head of.

Alex wasn’t proud of using the nepotism card but he did anyway.

So fast forward a few years and Alex is 29 years old teaching as a law professor, now finally on his own for the second year after teaching as a TA under Zarah Bankston and old friend of his moms and now a dean at the university.

Alex doesn’t expect anything to go wrong this year however that all changes when Henry fox walks into his lecture hall.

He’s pretty, blonde and everything Alex wants in an omega.

Alex class is small only 100 students so Henry already stuck out, however when he opens his mouth and speaks with that pretty English accent Alex is gone.

Which is bad, really bad because Henry is his student.

Everything goes well for a few weeks until one night Alex has finished his 6 pm lecture and is in the Chinese restaurant across from the campus when Henry walks in.

Henry walks up to the counter and Alex watches as Henry places his order, when he goes to pay however his card declines, once, twice, three times. Henry opens his mouth most likely to cancel his order when Alex blurts out “I’ll pay” and is swiping his American express.

“I .. thankyou.. you didn’t have to do that, professor ” Henry glances up at him

“It’s no problem and please don’t call me professor, it’s Alex“ Alex replies, leaning one arm on the shop counter.

Henry’s phone pings and he sees Henry’s face twist before he’s huffing out a breath and his scent sours.

“everything ok” Alex attempts to calm Henry but the agitation doesn’t leave Henry’s face.

“My bloody roommate just kicked me out of my dorm for the night, apparently he’s found some girl to shag” Henry spits out

“Shag” the word feels foreign in Alex’s mouth

“ it means fuck, Alex” Henry’s rolling his eyes but grinning up at him and Alex can’t help but return the smile.

“Um maybe we could eat together at my place” the words are out of Alex’s mouth before he can even process how much of a boundary that crosses and how bad of an idea that is, Henry beams “That sounds wonderful Alex”

Soon the cashier is calling out that their food is done and Henry is following Alex out to his car.

Henry sinks into the leather passenger seat of Alex’s Lexus and sighs “ Christ, I forgot how nice leather car seats were”.

Alex shoots Henry a questioning look and Henry looks down at his feet.

“My family’s quite well off however since my grandmother shipped me over here with barley any money, I’ve been missing out on the luxury’s I used to enjoy”

“I hope I’m not over stepping but why’d she send you here” Alex questions.

“Apparently it’s unbecoming for a member of our family to be an omega and to want to study literature, I was at Oxford on a scholarship in my last year and then she pulled me out to study law here in America” Henry’s answer is pained, Alex can’t imagine what it would be like to have your whole life up ended like that.

The rest of the drive continues on a happier note as Alex and Henry sing along to some of the songs on Alex playlist until they arrive at Alex’s brownstone.

As they step into the house Alex sees Henry looking around, his head tilted upward, was he scenting?

Alex chooses to ignore it for his own sanity and leads Henry to the couch and excuses himself to change out of his teaching clothes and into something more comfortable.

Alex now in a t-shirt and sweats joins Henry on the couch, Alex thinking of something to watch while they eat, asks Henry if he’s a Star Wars fan, Henry’s face lights up and he gleefully explains that he loves return of the Jedi, Alex scoffs and has to correct Henry “ the best star wars movie is clearly the empire strikes back” Henry flashes Alex a gummy smile and rolls his eyes “ I suppose I could endure watching empire”.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM HITMAN: WORLD OF ASSASSINATION *  assorted dialogue from the video game, adjust as necessary

majestic, isn't it?

someone knows about us.

we received your message. loud and clear, might i add.

i dare say the possibilities are endless.

the situation... it's complicated.

this could be dangerous, and i thought you deserved to know. so... now you know.

in his own special way, he cares about you... and vice versa.

i didn't catch your name.

that's for you. keep it on you at all times.

i have seen the consequences. i have felt the cost. that's what defines me.

none of you are safe anymore.

someone's been meddling in our affairs.

that's why we're hiring you to take him down.

if it seems like a conspiracy, it probably isn't.

i hope you know what you just did.

does it matter? i was told there'd be no second chances.

anyone can kill.

get out of my sight.

they sent me here to spy on him.

don't believe everything you hear.

very well. it's your show.

look, i'm not an asshole. of course i'm concerned.

so what happens now?

you do catch on fast.

i want us to meet. your room.

all right. consider it done.

i think technology hates me.

you can't be trusted.

i have found that whoever wields the sword decides who holds the pen.

smile, [name]. your reputation is safe.

there are no second chances. not here.

maybe i'm not the only one being tested.

i read your case file. impressive work.

do you realize what kind of world you've been shaping?

i'm [name], i'll take you to your quarters.

someone likes to keep secrets.

they kept you alive because they needed you and now they don't.

that part is my job.

when we need you, we will contact you.

i don't care which of you does it. it's mandatory.

he did not, however, factor me into the equation.

you're not a superhero. they don't exist.

for sure. i'll keep an eye out.

you did well, [name], i'm proud of you.

i followed you from italy.

that... is your target.

powerful men have fallen by your hand. but by the same token, others have risen.

knowing your enemy is only half the victory.

secrets are our stock-in-trade.

shit. still no answer.

i think we could help each other.

i think i'm in. but i want to be clear on a few details.

from what i hear, you have a few of your own.

i'm not like you, in case you're wondering.

if they can bend the rules, then so can i.

that's not a name.

you know the expression "know your enemy?"

tell me. what did it feel like, taking lives?

is that why you came here? why you let us test you?

i should leave you to prepare.

are you sure about this?

i don't believe it. i took every precaution.

all agents have weak spots.

give me a chance, [name].

our team found no records of any kind. no name, nothing.

are you still determined?

may i inquire why?

at first glance, an impossible task. then again, i do know how you love a challenge.

we will be watching.

how is this our problem?

i wish i had been informed.

people die, [name]. it happens all the time, even to us.

there is no sign of forced entry. no alarms. nothing.

in the meantime, keep him under close watch.

perhaps i see possibility where others see limitation.

now you will do the same.

i play dirty. that's how you defeat a stronger opponent. you strike from behind.

well, this is just fabulous, isn't it?

good. i'll be upstairs.

this was no coincidence.

i should tell you, the trail went dead after romania.

you're making us look bad.

this is the universe's way of telling you to quit, to get out of the game while you still can.

can i offer you a drink?

i thought they were a myth.

someone's playing a game, [name]. the question is... against whom?

we can't allow ourselves to be manipulated.

so... what are we actually doing here?

i just pulled some strings.

i thought that was the point?

i will take full responsibility.

vary your strategy. improvise.

i can't believe we beat him at his own game.

his death will not be investigated.

i know you don't care about politics.

i guess when you're invisible, you stop looking over your shoulder.

[topguncortez]

Pieces - N. Trace

pairing: Natasha "Phoenix" Trace x Female!Reader word count: 2.3k warnings: cursing, cheating, fighting, crying, mentions of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell", mentions of sexuality, religious themes, breakups, angst angst angst angst, did I mention angst?

It was Bob who noticed you first. You weren’t sure what you were thinking, picking the bar that you knew they always came to as a date location. Maybe part of you was hoping that seeing you with someone new would make her jealous, or maybe part of you was hoping that one of the other aviators would come save you from this terrible date. It wasn’t that Ethan was a bad guy, it was that he wasn’t Natasha. No one would ever be Natasha. 

“Hey birdbrain,” Rooster said, a smirk on his face as he looked over the position of the pool balls on the table, “Is that Y/N I see over there? With a man?” 

Natasha glanced over to where you were, and then looked back at Bradley, “That’s her boyfriend,” She shrugged, “Are we going to gossip like whores or play the game?” 

Bob frowned at his pilot’s tone of voice. He looked back over at you, the smile on your face was bright and it made Bob smile too. He was wondering if the light had come back to you yet. If you stopped blaming yourself for what happened between you and Nat. That’s what Bob found the most heartbreaking about the whole thing, you took the blame because you thought you did something wrong. 

“Whatever happened between you and her?” Payback asked and Phoenix shot him a glare. 

“Didn’t see eye to eye,” Phoenix said and took her shot and sunk in her striped ball, “I’m taking a break.” 

There was only one, well technically two people who knew what happened between you and Natashsa. One was Bob, who had helped you go look for Nat when she didn’t show up for a date and wasn’t answering her phone. The other was Hangman, who helped break your heart into pieces. 

It was nearing your one year anniversary, and you wanted to do something special. You never felt the need to hide who you were. You were out and very proud of that. Your family accepted you, and supported you through and through. When you first started dating Natasha, she wanted to keep everything private, and you understood it. The military hadn’t always been so accepting of same sex couples, and even though ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ had ended over a decade ago, there were still plenty of officers in the ranks that still believed in it. 

But, after a year of being introduced as her “friend”, being snuck into her barracks room, not meeting her parents (even though she had met yours tons of times), and being hidden, you had had enough. A person could only take so much of it, and while you wanted to stay quiet to protect Natasha, you were starting to think that this went past just what the Navy thought. 

Natasha had told you briefly that her parents would never understand their relationship. Her mother and father were both successful lawyers in California. They were strict and had a very one sided view on things. They had a plan for Natasha, she was to get married to a man, go to law school, and carry-out the family practice. But when she came home and told them she had enlisted into the service, her mother nearly had a heart attack. They still weren’t keen on the whole military thing, but they had slowly started to accept it. Natasha was not about to throw at them that she was dating a woman. 

You didn’t think that the instagram post was a big deal. Over the year you had posted various pictures of you and Natasha and other members of the dagger squad, and she never had a problem. But she did with the single photo post of you and her out to dinner with the caption: “one trip around the sun.” You had never seen Natasha so mad, and you understood where she got the callsign ‘Phoenix’ from. The second her phone dinged with a text message from a friend from back home and a screenshot of your post, she was livid. 

--- --- ---

“How could you be so stupid and post something like that!” She yelled as she paced in front of the fireplace. You felt like a child getting yelled at by your parents. You sat with your hands in your lap and tears running down your face. 

“I didn’t think-” 

“That’s the fucking problem right there, you didn’t think! This could ruin my fucking career!” 

“No it won’t!” You shouted back and stood up from the couch. Natasha was taken aback by your outburst, you never yelled, “I asked Bob and he said that there is no longer a law that says they can kick you out of the navy for being-” 

“Don’t fucking say it,” Natasha seethed pointing her finger at you. 

This conversation had happened before. The conversation about Natasha’s sexuality. She hadn’t one hundred percent come to terms with it yet, and you were okay with it. You knew from a young age that you liked both men and women. You also knew that sometimes it wasn’t easy to find yourself and be comfortable with it. You had helped Natasha a lot over the year, but she still questioned herself. 

“Natasha, I’m sorry about the post,” You said, “But I am also not sorry for it,” You took a step closer to her and grabbed her hand, “I love you, and I want to show you off. I want to post you on social media and boast about your awards and how much of a badass you are. I want to go to those awards balls and be the loudest one in there cheering for you. Natasha, please, stop hiding me. I-I don’t think I can take it much longer.” 

Nat felt her heart breaking as she looked at you. You had been stronger than any soldier she had met dealing with her this past year. She knew you were the type who loved to brag about your friends and partners accomplishments, you shared almost every single post about your middle school aged brother’s basketball games on FaceBook. But Natasha pushed away all those feelings and pulled her hand from yours. 

“I need some time to think,” Natasha, no, Phoenix said. The woman in front of you was the cold hearted pilot. She wasn’t the loving girlfriend who surprises you with flowers and chocolates during your cycle. 

“Don’t leave,” You cried and Phoenix walked right past you out the door. It took all the strength you had to not crumble to the floor right then and there. 

--- --- ---

You were hardly listening to whatever story Ethan was telling you, when you heard that all too familiar accent on the other side of the bar. It felt like a knife going into your back, and you lifted your head up quickly to catch his green eyes looking at you. He froze, and for a second you think you saw a flash of guilt in his eyes. You could feel the heat rising in your eyes and the overwhelming feeling of crying. You looked down at your drink and then back up at Jake, who gave you a sad smile and a small wave. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Ethan asked, touching your arm gently. 

“Huh? Oh,” You cleared your throat and looked back at your drink, “Yeah.” 

Ethan looked at you, “We can leave, if you’re not comfortable here.” 

God, why did he have to be so nice to me!? You thought. 

You felt like you didn’t deserve Ethan’s nicety when you were still in love with the woman who broke your heart. Ethan knew some of what happened with your last relationship. You had met him on his first day of work, which just so happened to be after the worst night of your life. You completely forget about the new guy starting across the aisle from you and you nearly bit his head off when he asked you which printer printed in color. You felt awful and apologized immensely, but all Ethan did was ask if you were okay and if you wanted to split his chocolate bar with him. 

From then on, a relationship started between the two of you. Ethan did everything and more than what you wanted. He didn’t hide you, he took you home to meet his parents, he held your hand in public, and would post you nonstop on his social media. He also told you he loved you almost every single day. Something you never heard from Natasha. 

You looked back up and noticed that Jake was gone, probably gone back to the corner of the bar by the pool table. You didn’t want to risk running into any more of them, so you looked back at Ethan and smiled. 

“Let’s get out of here,” You said and finished your drink, “I’ll be outside. Need some air.” 

“I’ll settle up,” Ethan said and you kissed his cheek before heading out the front door of the bar. 

When you stepped out of the bar, you didn’t expect to see Natasha standing there. She was alone, which was a rare sight to be had. Usually Bob or Rooster were around her. Natasha always had an aura about her. She always gave off a larger than life vibe, standing like a strong man in a storm. But seeing her now, she looked like she was afraid of her own shadow. You didn’t think you’d ever use the word “small” to describe Natasha Phoenix Trace. 

Every fiber in your being told you to just walk away, to not acknowledge her or say anything. Part of you was still mad at her for what she did, but the other part forgave her and that’s the thing you hated most. 

“You look happy,” Natasha said, her voice flat but also filled with so much emotion. 

“I am,” You said, softly, “Ethan is a good guy, he loves me.” 

Natasha scoffed, “I loved you too.” 

Now it was your turn to scoff, “No, Phoenix, you didn’t.” Natasha winced at the sound of her callsign coming from your lips with such venom behind it, “If you did, you would’ve never done what you did.” 

Natasha turned to look at you. She could see that same fire in your eyes that she had fallen in love with. For the most part, you looked the same, but she could see that your eyes looked tired and your hair didn’t seem as healthy as it was. 

“Why?” You asked, “Why did you do it? Why did you sleep with Hangman?” 

The air felt thick between the two of you as Natasha looked down at her shoes. She wished she had a good reason for why she found her way into Hangman’s bed that night, but she didn’t. Maybe it was out of fear, maybe it was out of anger, maybe it was out of lust. But for whatever reason, Natasha didn’t know why. 

Jake hadn’t known about you, and if he did, he wouldn’t have agreed to sleeping with Phoenix that night. Jake was a lot of things, but an adulterer was not one of them. He had grown up seeing and hearing the fights between his parents after one caught the other with a mistress or a paramour. He never wanted to be the reason a couple or family was split up. When you walked into Jake’s room that night and found Natasha on top of him, he had never felt such immediate guilt in his life. He didn’t even know you then, but he knew that Natasha had fucked up. The look in your eye said everything Jake needed to know. 

“I don’t know,” Natasha said, calmly and slowly. It pissed you off. 

“Bullshit, Natasha,” You sneered, “You know why you fucking did it! You know exactly why!” Natasha flinched as you yelled at her. She turned away, putting your back to you, which pissed you off even more.  You marched up to her and grabbed her arm, spinning her to make her look at you, “Look at me when I talk to you! Why did you do it!? Why did you break me into pieces!?” 

“Because you needed it!” Natasha yelled back. She watched as your body cowered at the sound of her voice. She sighed and ran a hand over her face, “You needed a fucking wake up call. You had been living in dreamland for a year and I was sick of it. I wasn’t exclusively yours and you needed to be reminded of that.” 

You shook your head, “No. I refuse to believe-” 

“Well fucking believe it, sweetheart,” Natasha spat, “I fucked Hangman, get over it. It was nearly a year ago. You clearly moved on.” 

“I moved on to someone who isn’t afraid to love me,” You said and Natasha had to stop herself from looking up at you because if she did, she would’ve told you that she did love you. That everything she just said was a total lie. That the reason she fucked hangman was because she was scared of loving you. 

“I-” 

“Tell me, Phoenix, were you in love with me or the idea of me? Did you want me or did you just want someone to warm your bed while you were away?” Phoenix didn’t know how to answer. She opened her mouth to say something, when the door to the Hard Deck opened, and Ethan stepped out. He looked between you and Phoenix, not saying a word but understanding everything.

“Take care, Nix,” You whispered, and walked away from her, Ethan quickly pulling you in for a tight hug. 

Tears were running down your face and hit his navy blue button up. Natasha couldn’t help but watch the interaction between the two of you, as if it were a car crash scene. Ethan whispered sweet nothings into your ear and rubbed your back. You pulled away from him and nodded as he held your face in both of his hands. He leaned forward and kissed your forehead, before grabbing your hand and leading you away from the Hard Deck. 

Natasha took a deep breath and looked back at the dark ocean.

[kjcreed]

The Jewel of Seven Stars | Chapter 3

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Series Masterlist Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Warnings: profanity; illegal transportation (again); shotgun

Pronouns: they/them

Summary: The year is 1954. 9 years after the Second World War ended. Most people in the blooming city of New York should be living pretty peacefully by now. And most of them really are... Well, except for you... And your brother Tony for that matter. Your father was an archaeologist working to uncover the truth about the legend of Queen Nefret and the prophecy that has been engraved on the walls of her tomb which your father discovered with his team. The only problem is that he went missing and now it's your job to find him. But what if you unintentionally become a part of said prophecy? And what if you meet a persistent librarian and her extravagant brother along the way?

Disclaimer: This story is inspired by the 1999 film The Mummy, partly inspired by the book The Jewel of Seven Stars by Bram Stoker and a little by the life of Queen Hatshepsut.

-

“So… do we know what the first thing we’re going after is?” You heard the voice of the younger twin beside you and when you looked towards her, you watched as she matched her step with yours as the four of you walked through the streets of the port city on the small island.

“Tony and I think it’s probably a talisman of some sort.” You shrugged your shoulders a little. “You do know about the legend of Queen Nefret, right?” You inquired as you glanced at the woman beside you again. She looked strangely enchanting with the colours of the sunset reflecting on her skin. For some reason, you felt like you never wanted to take your eyes off of her.

“Yes… yes, I do.” She nodded in confirmation and looked back up at you. She really wasn’t bad to look at at all. “Well, I think that the talisman could actually be a tyet amulet…” You continue explaining your theory as you look at Pietro and Tony walking in front of you, talking about god knows what.

“The knot of Isis?” Wanda asked and you smiled to yourself at the fact that she actually knew what you meant. When you tried to explain your theory to Tony, he looked at you as if you were crazy for thinking he knew what a tyet amulet was and why it was even relevant.

“Yeah… According to the legend, Nefret was a sorceress. It would make sense for her to use objects associated with Isis… or Aset, if we want to be culturally accurate…” You trail off and look at the girl again. She looked like she was thinking about what you were saying and you could notice the exact moment it clicked for her and you couldn’t help but chuckle a little.

“Because Isis is the goddess of magic, amongst other things.” Wanda said with a proud smile and you nodded in confirmation. “Exactly.” You and Wanda looked at each other for a moment and it reminded you of the first time that you met. You got lost in your own thoughts as you looked at the girl and for Wanda, it was the same.

She felt very intrigued by you. Ever since you almost knocked her over the railing of the ship you were trespassing on. For some unknown reason, she was dying to get to know you better. She knew she was looking at you for too long now, but so were you.

She didn’t want to look away. Something about the mischief in your eyes and your unpredictable behaviour pulled her in. It was only when her brother wrapped his arm around her shoulders with a hearty laugh that she snapped out of her haze.

“Are you two nerdy nerds done nerding? Because Tony and I just found us a boat.” The blonde man said with a grin on his face, motioning to the pier you suddenly appeared to be in front of.

Both you and Wanda look away from each other to look ahead towards the sea but before you do, you think you notice something resembling a blush on the girl’s cheeks.

You notice Tony talking to an older guy who had a tobacco pipe hanging from his lips loosely. You watch them for a little while and decide to walk over to them when you see the man get irritated by what your brother is saying.

“No passengers!” You hear the man exclaim when you walk up to them. You pat your brother on his back when the man makes a shooing motion at the both of you and you drag Tony back to where you were standing with Pietro and Wanda. “What happened?” You turn to your brother with an amused smile.

“He was already heading there anyway so I asked him if he could take us with him but he basically told me to fuck off.” Tony threw his arms up in frustration making you laugh a little which earned you a punch in the arm and a glare.

“Well… You know what that means…” A mischievous grin spreads across your face and Tony shoots you a warning look. “No. No way. I’m not doing that again.” He protested, shaking his head dismissively. “What are they talking about?” Wanda asked your brother with her eyebrows furrowed. “They want to sneak onto the ship.” Tony sighed and Wanda raised her eyebrows at you for confirmation and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Oh, because that worked out so well for you the last time.” Wanda commented sarcastically as she put her hands on her hips just like when you got kicked out of the inn. You couldn’t help but find her attempt at being firm rather amusing. “We made it here, did we not?” You snark back a reply with that stupid smile on your face making Wanda scoff in return.

“I dunno… It could be fun.” Pietro shrugged his shoulders and went to stand next to you, making you nudge him with your elbow as a sign of appreciation for being on your side. Wanda, however, gave him an unamused look.

“No. We’re not doing this.” Tony stood his ground and to be honest, you couldn’t really blame him. It’s not every day that you’re being shot at while swimming for your life towards an unfamiliar island.

You also knew that you didn’t have any other option. While you were walking towards Tony and the man you noticed that his ship was the only one on your side of the port and to your luck he was already headed where you needed to go.

“And what else do you want us to do, Tony?” You cross your arms over your chest and give your brother an irritated look. “I don’t know! Wait for another ship or something?”

You shook your head at your brother’s words. “We can’t waste any more time. Did you forget that our father is missing?” The determined look on your face told Tony that there was no way he would convince you otherwise so he just sighed in defeat. “Fine.” He also knew you were kind of right, but he would never admit that to your face.

“What?!” Wanda looked at the three of you bewildered that this was actually going to be your plan. “You cannot be serious-” “Sorry, Wands. Three against one.” Pietro interrupted his sister’s protests and Wanda shot you a glare in return. You gave her a playful smile before focusing your attention on her brother who leaned towards you. “So... how are we gonna do this?”

-

“Woah. What was that?” Wanda gripped her brother's clothes as the wooden floor under your feet shook a little. “That means we’re off.” You say with an excited smile and look around the small storage room you managed to sneak into while the owner wasn’t around.

You waited there for about an hour before the man finally set sail and now the four of you were crammed inside what you were sure to be the smallest room on the ship. If you could even call the man’s vehicle a ship. It was something between a ship and a boat really…

“Get comfortable because this is going to take a couple of hours…” You say, the smile not leaving your face and Wanda and Tony let out small groans of dissatisfaction.

Earlier when you got to the storage room, it was pitch black in there. Luckily you managed to find two small candles and Tony always carried a lighter in his pocket. It wasn’t much, but the dim light that illuminated the room just added to the atmosphere.

The four of you sat on the ground, surrounding the only source of light you had. You used the time you had to get to know each other a little bit better. You found out that Pietro and Wanda were originally from a small country in Central Europe called Sokovia but moved to America with their parents when they were little kids. You and Tony told them about your father and his research along with a few anecdotes from your childhood.

Tony and Pietro were engaged in a conversation about Tony’s projects and how he was working to be an electronic engineer and you were just pondering about the journey ahead of you when Wanda sat a little closer to you and pulled your dad’s book out of her satchel.

“I forgot to give you this back…” She handed you the book and you looked at it before looking back up at her. “So you’re not mad at me anymore?” Your teasing smile made Wanda annoyed a little bit but she still had to hold in a giggle threatening to escape her lips.

“I am…” She replied but you could see in her eyes that she didn’t really mean it. Annoyed? Yes. But mad? Very unlikely. “But I’m not a thief.” She tilted her chin upwards a little and you were amused, to say the least. You looked at the book before pushing it slightly away from you.

“You can hold onto it if you want.” You say and give her a more sincere smile this time. She was a little taken aback by your offer but accepted it nonetheless. “Thank you.” Her voice was quieter than before and she looked away from you a small smile grazing her lips.

You noticed she had a really nice smile. The girl was very pretty overall but her smile might be your favourite feature of hers yet. You got lost in the way the light from the candle reflected in her greenish eyes and it took you a moment to reply to her. “It’s no problem. I have the whole thing pretty much memorised…” You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. “Wow… I didn’t know you were such a nerd about dad’s stuff.” You heard the teasing voice of your brother making you groan a little.

“I’m not! I was just bored in the house sometimes…” You tried to defend yourself even though you knew your brother wasn’t really buying it. “Oh dad would’ve loved to see this.” Tony nudges you and you roll your eyes. “Shut up, Tony.” Your cheeks were starting to have a faint red tint to them and you could feel it. That’s why you tried to change the subject as quickly as you could. Wanda thought it was amusing and kind of adorable.

“Can I look at the map from the book real quick?” The fond smile that was playing on Wanda’s lips fell as soon as those words left your mouth. You notice the girl exchange a worried look with her brother and it makes you furrow your eyebrows while you look between the two of them. “What?” You quirked your eyebrow at the twins.

“Well… Uh… We…” Pietro’s stammering induced an unpleasant feeling in the pit of your stomach. “We… kinda burned it.” You and Tony looked at each other with wide eyes before you turned to the twins with unbelieving looks. “You what?!” Your voice was a couple of octaves higher than normal and you stood up from your spot on the ground.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” You couldn’t believe what you just heard. The only thing that could actually lead you to your lost father was gone. Burned to a crisp. Just like that. Sure… You somewhat remembered the locations that were marked on the map… But what if you’re wrong? And this whole thing goes to shit?

“Y/N… You need to calm down…” The voice of your brother stopped you from spiralling for a moment. “Calm down?” You snap back at your brother and Wanda and Pietro exchange worried glances. “Just sit down before-” Your brother was cut off by the sound of the door opening and a shotgun being loaded. You froze in place and slowly turned around only to be faced with the owner of the boat pointing a shotgun at your stomach. “Fuck…”

-

“Easy there, cowboy.” You say with your hands up as the man shoves you forward with his shotgun. “You want to get shot in head?” He said with a foreign accent, probably Spanish if you had to guess, as he raised the weapon at you.

You feel someone step on your foot making you wince and when you look to your side you see Tony giving you a pointed look. “Sorry, sorry.” You tell the man quickly and look back at him.

“I say no passengers. You not speak English?” You and your companions were huddled together with your arms raised, the man holding you at gunpoint on the deck of his ship.

“We’re really sorry, but we needed to get to Isla de Los Despiertos. We’re looking for my father and we had no other choice.” You explain. Your voice is a little shaky from nervousness since you could be shot dead any second.

The man slowly lowers his weapon and tilts his head at you. “So you not tourists?” He inquires. You and your companions exchange confused glances at the question. When you don’t reply, the man raises the shotgun again, making you become alarmed once again. “No! No, no. We’re not tourists!” You respond quickly and the man squints his eyes at the four of you, scanning you from head to toe.

You breathe out a sigh of relief when the man lowers his gun with a grumble. “I hate tourists.” Wanda and Pietro look at each other in amusement as they hear him exclaim. The man puts his gun down and crosses his arms over his chest as he looks at you again.

“Why you want to go to Isla de Los Despiertos?” He quirked an eyebrow at the four of you. It was Wanda who spoke up this time. “We are searching for an amulet… it should be somewhere in the ruins of Amfazar.” She explained, remembering the name on that little piece of the burned map. You were a little surprised by how confident her tone of voice was. You liked this side of her.

The man stared at her for a long moment before he suddenly burst out laughing. And it lasted for a while. He only stopped once he noticed that the rest of you weren’t as amused as he was. He looked back at you and his eyes widened slightly.

“Oh… You serious?”

-

Author's Note

Heyo! Back at it again with another chapter I hope you enjoy. Thank you so much for the likes, reblogs and positive comments on this series, dear reader! Isla de Los Despiertos is supposed to translate to Isle of The Awakened from Spanish, just to clear things up... You'll hopefully find out what that means in the next chapter :)

Thank you for reading and see you again soon!

Series Masterlist Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2

[pricescigar]

Familiarity

Summary: After Harper accidentally used her powers against her parents and loosing her memories due to the psychic blast she unleashed. A familair face finally found her after so long.

Tw: Abuse

1945, Westchester, New York, 

April 20th

Harper's parents were arguing, which was no surprise to young Harper. They've been arguing a lot recently, so much for coming here for a better life. It seemed to be getting worse. Freddie Hugo never really liked Harper much, first and foremost she wasn't his child. Secondly, Harper never really listened to him anyway. She'd always told him she wasn't his dad, which was true but it still pissed him off. Thirdly… Freddie always found Harper weird regardless, he'd always say to Harriet;

“I swear it's as if that kid can hear our thoughts.” 

Harper was already having problems in her life which no child should have, her mutation was already becoming visible. At first glance unknowingly, Harper’s parents found it funny and interesting that she was saying all of these things. Saying what they were thinking, what her grandparents were thinking too. However the grandparents knew what was happening, they could feel it.

But the more it kept on happening, the more Freddie was beginning to hate everything around him. 

Freddie Hugo always hated himself– Detached with his own being almost, his grandparents were mutants. His father could teleport wherever he wished. His mother could manipulate fire to her own will to see fit. But Freddie? He was the unfortunate case of him being a simple human, no visible form of the X Gene. Harper's mother on the other hand possessed the X-Gene yet it didn't manifest, so it lay dormant in her own psyche. 

Harriet had a little history she didn't dare to tell Freddie, especially when it came to Harper. In her younger years she knew Sebastian Shaw, the two got together and married. Harriet became pregnant and gave birth to Harper, a birth that almost killed her but Sebastian was happy nonetheless.

Shaw was happy to be a dad, despite his antics. He showed unconditional love, support and was always proud of his daughter. He could see the potential in her. It wasn't until in 1940 that Harriet and Harper disappeared, he devoted his life to finding Harper again and other mutants too.

The memory of her real father was still visible in Harper's memory, she would always know who her real dad would be. Harper always asked her mother to see him again, but she never really listened.

Harper's grandparents were out for the day in New York, and so the only residents in the house were her parents and Harper herself. It was the day after Harper turned thirteen years old, she was in her bedroom reading her book before she heard her parents arguing once again.

Harriet went downstairs cautiously, standing by the living room door not making herself known. But watching to see everything unfold…

“This isn't the life I wanted Harriet, I want a family. An actual family where I have a child of my own blood. Not having some… Freak who has a different father than myself.” Freddie's tone was firm, with a hint of coldness.

Harriet suddenly slapped him around the face. “Don't you dare speak about my daughter like that.” She pointed a finger at him.  “She can't help how she is, and her father was a lost cause.” 

Freddie chuckled and shook his head. “I don't care, you either send her away now or I'll leave.”  He gave her a final choice. 

Harriet's facial expression dropped, then anger surged through her. An anger like no other.

“I will not. Send my daughter away, you selfish bastard.” She pushed him away, yet Freddie didn't do anything back to her. He remained stubborn as a mule.

Harper watched it all unfold, how her mother was punching, screaming at him. She didn't know what to do. But she was scared.

“Mum please stop…” Harper tried to speak, but her voice was a whisper.

Yet the situation seemed to be getting worse each second, both of them started to fight each other now. Harper closed her eyes, her brain was going into overdrive. Her emotions rising, she then opened her eyes.

“I told you both to stop!” She yelled, staring at both of them.

That's when everything went all fuzzy.

Harper blinked a couple of times, she felt herself come back to reality. She looked around the living room for a moment, everything seemed perfectly normal. Until eyes fell onto the floor, seeing her parents laying on the floor not moving. She tried to wake them up but nothing was working. 

Sebastian Shaw managed to track down Harper after 5 years, he found himself at a house in Westchester. Could this be where Harper was? He found the door to be unlocked, but he didn't think much about that. He stepped in the home.

“Harper?” Shaw called out. “It's me.” He didn't even need to announce himself, knowing she would recognise him.

Harper heard someone calling her, the voice sounded familiar to her but she couldn't place her finger on it. She stood up when she heard footsteps entering the living room, and there was Shaw standing before her.

“Hey kid.” Shaw smiled softly, he then saw the bodies on the ground. Feeling a different minute of emotions, but he remained composed. He had an idea on what had happened.

“It's okay.” He reassured her. “I'm here… You're dad's here.”

Harper stared at him for a moment, the lingering feeling of familiarity kept gnawing at her. But with her mind in overdrive, and her memories all over the place. She didn't know what to say… She looked back to her parents, her vulnerability was clear.

“I don't remember what happened… They were arguing, and now they're lying on the ground not moving.” Harper admitted, she then stayed silent looking back at Shaw.

“It's okay.” Shaw approached Harper cautiously, not wanting to startle her more than she already is. He could feel the telepathic energy seething out of her own mind, he knew his mind would be at risk too if he wasn't careful. He put his hand on her shoulder gently.

“I can help you, I can teach you how to control it.” Shaw said.

Harper stayed silent staring at Shaw. “I don't want to leave them.” She quietly admitted to him, talking about her parents who were now dead.

Shaw was patient about this situation, of course deep down he was sad to see his Harriet meet such a fate. But… The potential Harper had already, He was so proud of her.

“Oh… Don't worry about them.” Shaw replied. “All that matters now is you, think of all the things you could do.” He said, practically convincing her to go with him. He could see the confusion on her face, he the sudden manifestation of her powers took a toll on her

“Come. If you'll stay with your ol’ pa.. You'll be able to do things you've never thought you'd be able to do.” He said. 

Harper stayed silent for a moment before nodding to his words, which made Shaw smile at that. His hand remaining on her shoulder, he guided her out of the house. 

It all seemed to be going to plan until her grandparents made an unexpected appearance.

“What are you doing here?” Harper's grandfather quickly approached Shaw, a stern look on his face.

“Taking back what's rightfully mine, you know… It pained me to see her leave for that pathetic man.” Shaw spoke, clearly talking about Harriet and Freddie. “I'm just here to pick up my daughter.” 

“Over my damn dead body you will.” Harper's grandfather almost spat at him. “Leave my property, or I'll make you.” He said.

Harper stayed silent watching the situation unfold, feeling herself getting overwhelmed again. She could easily head the thoughts in their heads, doing her best to keep herself grounded.

Shaw chuckled at what he said. Oh he could've easily killed them, if he wanted to. But he wanted to take a different approach towards this. “Oh really? You think you want to mess with me?”

“Leave Shaw, she's fine here with us.” Her grandmother, despite both of them being much older, still had some fight left within them

Her grandmother formed a fireball in her hand before shooting it over to Shaw, to which he quickly moved away with Harper still close to him. He quickly absorbed the energy.

Her grandparents stood there in silence watching him, Shaw gave them a disapproving look.

“Now, that wasn't so nice. Was it?” Shaw said neatening his suit, his eyes stared at both of her grandparents.

Watching her grandfather rush towards him, Shaw quickly grabbed his arms practically twisting it.

“I've played this game before, old man, and I won't stop.” His tone was firm.

Harper felt her stress rising, her control was beginning to slip.

“Stop you're scaring me!” She said, she sent a large wave of telepathic energy on them, but it wasn't as bad as the one unleashed on her parents.

Harper's grandparents backed away as Harper said that. Shaw felt the mental energy, almost holding his head. He couldn't help but laugh. He knew he had to play the waiting game… So be it. Harper was remarkable. HIS daughter was powerful.

“One day you'll come to regret keeping her here, in this home like a bird in a cage.” He spoke, before looking down to Harper, placing a hand behind her head. 

“Be a good kid, never hide who you are.” He whispered the last part to Harper, giving her a small kiss on her head before leaving them in peace.

It was then her grandparents rushed to her and asked if she was okay, her grandmother especially. Hugging her closely, Harper watched Shaw leave until his figure disappeared from her sight.

[pajarinwrites]

The Perfect Set 02

➳ fem!reader x Jacob

➳ wc: 4.9k

➳ TAGS: volleyball player!jacob, college!au, best friends to lovers

➳ WARNINGS: drinking, cob busts his lip and has to get it stitches, piv sex, cunnilingus (it's all not very elaborately described tho

➳ AN: i initially meant to only continue posting this series once i have all rough drafts finished but then i got too impatient and here we are, also i have been obsessed with jacob again, i'll get back to continuing chapter four now (i'm in a writers block with this story TT)

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Jacob watched you from the audience, the way your eyes were so zeroed in on your opponent, following their words with every ounce of your attention. Jacob knows the other girl slipped up when he sees the minuscule twitch of the corner of your mouth. I’ve got you, now. It seems to say. He’s seen it countless times in your practice debates, and in quite a few of your rows with him, too. Sure enough, your turn for a reply comes around and you take your opponents entire argument apart with a few well placed jabs. She gets increasingly hectic and starts stumbling over her words. Jacob almost feels bad for her. But when the jury leaves to discuss your debate any empathy evaporates. Your face lights up as you turn around to your team mates, who all give you thumbs up. He’s quite sure everyone in the hall can tell that you had the upper hand in that debate.

Once the results are officially announced and you and your team have advanced to the next round, you sprint over to the seats. He catches you in his arms and whirls you around.

“I told you, you could do it!”

“I could have been more concise in my second argument, and I totally forgot to respond to one of the aspects she mentioned, but overall it went quite well.” Your smile is blinding and he’s having a deja vu.

“You should take more time to celebrate your achievements.” You stick your tongue out at him but before he can reiterate how proud he is of you, a familiar pair of arms wraps around you from behind.

“You did so great,” Juyeon whispers into your ear, kissing your cheek. You blush furiously and Jacob feels sick.

“You wouldn’t even be able to tell the difference,” you tease him. And momentarily, the weird feeling alleviates. Even if you’ve gone on a few dates with Juyeon, Jacob is the one who always makes time for you, who goes to your debate team meetings, does research with you until late at night. He’s the one that is always there for you, that has always been there for you since you were children. So it’s only natural that your open affection with Juyeon would trigger an adverse reaction. He knew his team mate was a good guy, but he wasn’t sure if he was good enough for you. And on top of that, “could you guys not make out right in front of me? I’m gonna have to throw up.” You chuckle, detaching yourself from Juyeon in favour of simply holding his hand.

“It was just a peck, hyung.” Juyeon says, as if the exact manner of physical affection that you display makes any difference to Jacob.

“Either way, it’s weird because we’re like siblings.”

You look at him quizzically before shrugging. “No problem, we’ll just go over to that dark corner over there and continue. See you later!” You wave, pulling Juyeon along with you, while Jacob is left behind with the exceedingly unwelcome picture of you and Juyeon making out in a dark corner seared into his brain.

You seem to generally be busy with his teammate because Jacob sees less and less of you over the next few weeks. Juyeon also shows up increasingly late for training, often sporting suspicious marks on his neck or swollen lips. Upon the snickering glances of the younger teammates, he only grins and pulls his neckline a little lower. As much as Jacob wants you to be happy, Juyeon’s faltering morale starts to affect the whole team soon, dragging everyone’s motivation and teamwork down. After two weeks, Jacob has enough and asks Juyeon to stay behind after practice.

The taller man slinks up to him with all the time in the world and a self-satisfied expression on his face. “What’s up, cap?” He asks.

Jacob decides not to beat around the bush, “I’ve noticed over the past training sessions that you seem kind of distracted and demotivated…” Juyeon shows no reaction, forcing Jacob to continue explaining himself. “I’m definitely not the only one who noticed, and at this point your spotty attendance and lack of commitment are starting to affect the whole team.”

“But, hyung, I’m only ever a few minutes late. How am I at fault if everyone starts slacking off?”

“We’re a team, Juyeon. Everyone is responsible for everyone, to a certain degree. On top of that, you’re one of the older members, so the freshmen look up to you for guidance and motivation. Your attitude is having a negative effect on the whole team, and I need you to start taking this seriously again.”

“Or what?” Juyeon asks, his eyes boring into Jacob’s in a way that makes him squirm. He’s always hated confrontation, the fact that Juyeon is one of his close friends isn’t making this easier in the slightest. “Or nothing. This isn’t a threat, Juyeon.”

“So you’re asking me nicely? As your friend?”

“No, I’m telling you nicely. As your captain.”

“That still sounds kinda threatening, though.”

“I can’t help that. We’ve got a big roster of players and if you’re attitude and behaviour affect our results negatively, you’ll be swapped out. It’s as simply as that. I’m not doing this to antagonise you.”

“‘Course you aren’t.” Juyeon replies, his eyes fiery. He snatches his satchel off the bench and stares down at Jacob, who feels increasingly lost. “So you’re going to put me on the bench just because I’m fooling around with your girl.”

That’s an odd way to phrase it, Jacob thinks. It’s also a way that makes it sound way worse than it is.

“She’s not my girl, Juyeon. She is her own person, and this has nothing to do with her. Except that she seems to distract you from what’s really important.”

“No offence, captain. But if you think volleyball is what’s really important, you’ve never gotten your dick properly wet.” Jacob feels like he’s been slapped in the face and he doesn’t know if it’s his hurt pride or the vulgarity of the statement or the fact that he feels like he needs to defend your honour once more. He stares at Juyeon, taking rapid but deep breaths and doing his most to not loose grip of his amicable disposition.

“I don’t think she’d appreciate knowing that that’s all she means to you.”

“What’s it to you? Whatever we do with each other is none of your business. You just said she’s her own person.”

“It is absolutely my business if you’re hurting her.”

“Fuck you! You really think I’d ever do that?”

“Well if you can’t even—“

“Stop!” Juyeon suddenly screams. He’s fuming; Jacob isn’t even sure what he did to incur his friend’s sudden wrath, “don’t pretend like you know what we need from our relationship! If you don’t trust me, ask her whether she’s happy or not.”

Jacob presses his lips together, meeting Juyeon’s burning gaze with the same intensity.

“This isn’t even about her,” he reiterates because it feels like his grip on this conversation is slipping, “this is about volleyball.”

“I have a feeling that this is exactly about her.”

“That’s probably because you need to get your head and your priorities on straight.”

“Oh, sorry, that the relationships with the people I care about are more important to me than some stupid sport. Most importantly herright now.”

“We’ve got different priorities, then.” Jacob says coldly.

“Clearly.” Juyeon replies in a similar tone, “I quit.”

That takes Jacob by surprise, despite everything, and the words only register once Juyeon has crossed the gym and slammed the door shut behind himself.

Jacob stands, staring at the door in disbelief. Inside he’s still fuming, and it’s a feeling he doesn’t truly appreciate. He tried his hardest to keep the conversation civil but he still seems to have triggered Juyeon. Jacob decides to give him space to cool down, knowing that he himself needs it before he can face his friend again. In the face of overflowing emotions, Jacob always takes the same path. So he decides to do what he always does when he is feeling upset. It doesn’t hurt to get some more targeted practice in anyway, he’d been meaning to dedicate more time to his jump serves anyway.

He rolls the ball cage over the end of the court and starts practicing. Some serves, he imagines the ball is Juyeon’s face smirking at him. But most of them he’s looking at himself and feeling increasingly bad. Jacob is so engrossed in his serves that he doesn’t notice the door to the gym open and close again. Neither does he realise that you’ve sat down on the benches next to the court, watching him smash ball after ball precisely into the corners of the opponents half of the field. You watch as your best friend over-exerts himself, well aware that sometimes this is what he needs to turn off the incessant stream of doubt that runs his mind some days.

The first time you found him like this was the first week of your second year of middle school. He had just found out that he wouldn’t make the regular line-up for games this year either. Despite him sacrificing the better part of his free time to volleyball and never missing a practice, no matter how sick he was, his coach chose a different line-up. Of course Jacob didn’t say anything, ever the pacifist. And without his soothing reassurance, you would’ve stormed up to the coach in his stead to demand fairness.

“Nepotism,” you had huffed as you sat on the bench, watching your best friend try jump serve after jump serve. He was breathing heavily, his bangs sticking to his forehead at that point.

“Maybe you should take a break?” You suggested, earning yourself nothing but a burning glare. “My serves still suck. I can’t even land them in the court half the time,” he gritted as if that was enough explanation, and you had learned to keep your mouth shut. Eventually he would tire himself out, so much that he could barely lift his arms. Then he’d start collecting the countless volleyballs he had shot across the gym in hours before. You’d help him, wordlessly. And, finally, he would crash down on the floor in exhaustion, looking up at you with a sheepish grin, as if he should be apologising to you for burning himself out like that. 

So today you sit there again, waiting for Jacob to tire himself out, as you’ve done countless times. He’s still going strong after half an hour and you’re starting to worry when he suddenly flops down onto the floor.

“Spent?” You call over. His head lolls back up, staring over at you in surprise. He just looks for a few seconds as if he hasn’t yet decided on an appropriate reaction. Slowly, a smile breaks out on his lips. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he says, which is the first time for him to ever say this. So it’s little surprising that it takes you aback so.

“Sure, whatever. You’re crazy,” you say, getting up and walking over. You hand Jacob his water bottle and start collecting balls all on your own. He starts helping you after a few minutes and together you clean and lock up. He takes a hurried shower, trying not to let you wait too long. The two of you are halfway to your dorms when you finally dare to breach the subject.

“So… do you wanna talk about what happened with Juyeon?” The frown on Jacob’s face manifests immediately.

“Not… really.”

“Ok, no problem. We don’t have to talk about it.”

“Did you talk to him about it?” His voice is quiet, nearly a whisper, so low that you can’t hear him over the sound of distant traffic. Only the campus’ eerie silence allows you to hear him. You haven’t heard him this insecure since the infamous middle school roster disaster. He’s staring at his feet while walking, as if he’s expecting to find a treasure on the floor any moment now.

“I mean, he talked to me about it… But don’t worry, I’m impartial.”

Jacob huffs. “I’ve never known a person to be less impartial than you,” he smiles.

You stew in silence until you make it to your dorm and you can’t quite decide whether or not it’s uncomfortable. “Do you wanna come in for a second? I still have that chai mix you love.” Your best friend lifts his eyes and there’s still a little hope in them.

“Sure,” he says, much to your relief. As he follows you up, you can hear from the heavy fall of his footsteps that the training exhausted him more than he likes to admit. Hence, it’s no surprise that you tell him to get comfy on your bed while you prepare the chai with the electric kettle in your room.

You hand him one mug, the one with the beagle saying ‘good morning’ on it, his favourite. When you sit down next to him, you decide not to prompt Jacob, instead giving him a chance to start talking in his own time. It takes few minutes and some sips from your drink before he takes a deep breath and looks at you.

“What did Juyeon say?”

“The usual.. you’ve got a stick up your ass when it comes to volleyball, you should care more about your friends, etcetera…

“Oh, he also asked me if I was happy. Which was… a little weird, just ‘cuz it was unprompted, you know?” Jacob looks up at you in surprise. “Are you?” He asks, “Happy, I mean.”

“Sure,” you say, unsure of where this is supposed to be heading, “I mean university is stressful especially with the exams coming up in a couple months. But other than that I’m pretty happy… Can’t say the same for you or Juyeon, though.”

Jacob nods sagely. “It’s just been a little rough between us lately and I don’t even fully know why.”

“Maybe it’s just tensions with the quarter finals coming up?”

“That’s probably a contributing factor.”

“All the more reason to make up with him,” you whisper, not sure if you’re breaching the subject too soon. But judging by Jacob’s heavy sigh, this is the pivotal point that his brain had been circling the whole time too.

“I know you’re right but… he said a few things. And I know, from experience, that he needs a little time to calm down.”

“He seemed just as confused as you, to be honest. Maybe give him a few days before talking to him. And maybe get him back on the team? How cool would it be if our university actually won this year’s volleyball championships?” Jacob laughs. Finally, you think, relieved at the way his face finally lights up, even if it’s just for a split second.

“So your motivations are entirely selfless?”

You rest on hand on your heart, “of course! They always are. I am a good samaritan.” Jacob smirks, falling back into silence, except this time you’re sure it’s a comfortable one. 

What he doesn’t want to tell you is that he still feels like his argument with Juyeon was only marginally about volleyball. He was worried his friend might have told you that he thinks volleyball is more important to himself than you. (Which isn’t even true, of course. He’s pretty certain you’d know either way that you have always been and will always be his trop priority.) But he is relieved that Juyeon was right, you are happy in whatever situationship you have going on with him. And the mixed feelings he had about that were only due to his momentarily strained relationship with Juyeon. As long as he knows that Juyeon’s treating you right, he has no reason to not be delighted about you being in a loving relationship. He worries. That’s all.

After twenty years of friendship, you can easily spot when Jacob goes into a funk. So when he stares absentmindedly into his empty cup of chai, you know he hasn’t entirely gotten over his dismay about the fight. On top of that, you can see his eyelids dropping in real time. For not entirely unselfish reasons (it’s been ages since the two of you had a sleepover), you offer him to crash at your place tonight. He accepts, with a soft, sleepy smile that warms your heart.

You give him a spare toothbrush and oversized t-shirt so he can comfortably squeeze into your twin-size dorm bed beside you. You wrap one arm around him and he mirrors you while pulling you close. He’s so close you can make out the faint scar on his upper lip. It takes more than a little effort to push the memories of that night out of your head. Especially since it’s the first time he’s sleeping over since that accident.

“Don’t fall out,” you whisper.

“I’ll try my very best.” He whispers back, “good night, sunshine.”

“We have to go!” You squeal, “it’s team-bonding!”

Jacob rolls his eyes at you, “you’re just happy to be invited to a big house party within your first month of uni.”

“So what? Something can be more than one thing at once.”

“Yeah, except this time it’s not.”

You’re sat on the floor in front of Jacob, legs crossed, while he was on your dorm bed. He had come over in order to watch a cute animated movie with you, the way the usually did after he played and won a match with his team. Except this time he barely made it through your door before you started bombarding him with questions about the after-game party that apparently was a tradition for your university’s volleyball team.

Jacob was hard-pressed to tell you ‘no’, especially with your puppy-dog eyes and the way your oversized shirt had ridden up your thighs when you had planted yourself in front of him.

“Why do you never want to go to parties with me?” You whine, pulling on his arm lightly, while pouting. He sighs deeply, already resigning himself to giving into your whim.

“We didn’t even tell them we’d be coming!”

“Oh, please, Jake! As if anyone cares about that. I bet you half a dozen random strangers will show up and no one will care!”

“We’ll be late.”

“No one will be bothered by that except for you.”

He groans, dropping dramatically back onto you bed. You crawl up beside, leaning over him with a smirk. His heart starts racing but he decides to ignore it. “So… is that a yes?”

“Yes, yes, fine whatever.” He says, but he knows you can see the smile etching itself onto his face.

“You’re the best!” You squeal, pressing a kiss to his cheek that leaves his face burning. Before he can even react you’ve jumped back up, throwing dress after dress on top of him. “Hey,” he tries to protest, sitting up but promptly getting hit in the face again.

“What should I wear?” You ask, already out of your t-shirt. You’re standing in front of him in nothing but a bra and your high school sport shorts. It’s not like he hasn’t seen you in less before but with how out of sorts his heart has been acting this night he’s starting to think he’s going to have a problem tonight. “I don’t know, any of them look good.” 

Rolling your eyes, your sigh, “You’re not very helpful, you know that?” 

You pull on a cute red dress and Jacob is about to compliment you when you frown and pull it back over your head. As you continue to rummage through your closet, he starts looking through the dresses you had haphazardly tossed onto your bed and, by extension, on him. There’s a short black one that sparkles lightly if he holds it up to the light just right. He holds it out for you to see to inquire about your opinion. The way your face lights up let’s him know that he hit the mark.

“It’s perfect!” You exclaim after trying it on and spinning in front of your mirror. He wants to tell you that it’s not perfect after all, that the hem is definitively much too short. But he keeps quiet because he’s not your keeper and he’s never had it in him to deny you something you wanted before. Jacob waits patiently as you put on your makeup and do your hair, and is fascinated again by how much work goes into looking like you put no work into your appearance.

Finally you finish and make it to Sangyeon’s apartment two hours late. A stranger ushers you in. Jacob thinks it’s Sangyeon’s roommate, who he’s only met one singular occasion that left him with antipathy for the man, and the feeling is only exacerbated when said roommate’s inebriated.

“Dude, thought you wouldn’t show, cool you made it!” He greets Jacob, even though his eyes are still on you, blatantly looking you up and down. All that’s missing is him licking his lips, Jacob thinks. To his horror, you seem into it, winking at the player. Jacob's hand wraps around your arm, softly but decisively, and he pulls you into the kitchen to get some drinks. The communal space is full of his team mates. Most don’t pay any attention to your late arrival but a few stare at your ass as the two of you walk by. He’ll definitely need some alcohol to survive the night, he thinks. So that’s exactly what he does, he gets himself and you some alcohol, making sure to make yours mostly juice with only a spritz of vodka. Your reaction isn’t favourable but there really isn’t anything you can do about it now. Jacob would like to stick right by your side the entire evening but you’re almost immediately whisked away by no one lesser than his team’s co-captain. Unfortunately for Jacob he’s heard you gush about Sangyeon’s ‘bulging biceps’ on more than one occasion and he hates that the older man seems to have taken a liking to you too. 

Jacob tries to distract himself by watching a different group of players have a go at truth and dare in front of the couch but he’s constantly distracted. Even more unfortunately, once he gets up from the game fifteen minutes later, you (and Sangyeon) have disappeared. So, really, he thinks it’s understandable that he drinks a little more than he initially planned.

After a few too many cups Jaehyun finds him in the kitchen only to announce that they’ve set up a keg in the courtyard downstairs. In his woozy state, Jacob thinks that sounds like a grand idea. Also, if there’s partying happening outside, you might’ve simply gone there and that was why he didn’t find you earlier. Jaehyun is elated at the fact that his party-averse junior is following him easily and the both of them are greeted with cheers when they emerge from the apartment building. Jacob spots neither you nor Sangyeon but he’s so busy scanning the area that he doesn’t even fully realise when Sangyeon’s infamous roommate sidles up to him, “Dude,” he whispers, “it’d be so rad if you did a keg-stand right now.”

“Uh uh,” Jacob replies and he’s been led all the way to the keg and is already halfway into a handstand before he fully realises what he just agreed to. Whatever, he thinks, might as well. So he let’s Jaehyun and the roommate hold him up while the tries to chuck as much beer as possible. The only problem was that Sangyeon and you decided to arrive outside at that exact moment. Jaehyun spots you and immediately screams your and Sangyeon’s name.

“Weren’t you two gone for a while? How’s the dick?” 

Sangyeon and you throw up a simultaneous middle finger in response but Jacob can’t see that. He only hears Jaehyun’s comment and is momentarily so distracted that his hand slips.

There’s a few ways that this evening could have gone differently. For one, Jacob could have chosen to have a normal reaction to the person that is nothing but his best friend going off to fool around with his teammate. He could have drunken a normal amount of alcohol. He could have refused to go outside or he could have refused to do a keg-stand while being half a beer away from shit-faced. But he didn’t do any of those things. So when his hand slips it isn’t really surprising to anyone that he doesn’t manage to catch himself and instead slams face first into the keg.

It takes several stitches to sew up his lip. The same can’t be said for his chipped tooth. But the doctor’s verdict is generally favourable. “It could’ve gone much worse, young man.” He says at he shows Jacob out of the emergency room. Sangyeon, who had been sober, as it turns out, is waiting for him. He doesn’t have a comment as he leads Jacob to his car and drives him back to his apartment. He pulls up to the curb and Jacob is about get out when Sangyeon rests a hand on his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he says, leaving Jacob confused, especially because he still feels a considerable degree of tipsy, despite everything that had transpired over the last half hour. “For what?” He asks.

Sangyeon lets out a deep sigh,”I should’ve been there. It was my place, my invitation. I should’ve been responsible. And I wasn’t there.” For the first time Jacob sees his co-captain, usually a steady presence in the team, defeated. His shoulders are hunched over and Jacob realises the pressure that must rest on Sangyeon’s shoulders. He cares a lot, he’s a great co-captain, more responsible than their actual captain, to be honest.

“It’s not like you can be everywhere at once,” Jacob says, even though his insides feel like they're on flames when he thinks about where Sangyeon had disappeared to and with whom. Still, he’s great when he can tease a small smile from the older man’s lips.

“Thank you, Jacob. You’d make a great captain someday.” The man in question is more than a little taken aback.

“Because I showed such a great tendency for responsibility tonight?”

Sangyeon laughs, “No. Because you care, and you can read people very well. You’ll grow into it, don’t worry.” He smiles as if he has insight into the future in a way that Jacob doesn’t. “I’ll take better care of you from now on. But right now…” He looks out the passenger side window, past Jacob. “I think someone’s waiting for you.”

Jacob turns around, seeing you cowered on the steps to his dorm, your arms wrapped around yourself protectively.

Jacob waves Sangyeon off as his car drives off. He sits down next to you, bathing in the silence until the car lights have long faded away. When you still remain motionless next to him, he takes your hand in his softly and tugs you up the stairs to his dorm. He’s never been so happy that he has a solo dorm as when you wrap your arms around him fiercely the second his room door slams shut. He huffs as you press all the air out of his lungs.

“Are you okay?” You whisper into the side of his neck and he nods. You look up, your eyes big and shiny from tears that you must’ve cried before he arrived. He cradles your cheek to wipe the lingering traces of them away, but before he has the chance you close the distance between the two of you.

The press of your lips is light as a feather, unsure whether or not you’ve made the right decision. Jacob blames it on the alcohol, in hindsight. Otherwise there is no way he would’ve been ready to throw twenty years of friendship out the window. He moves his lips against yours, hungrily, because he’s afraid you might change your mind. But instead you wrap your arms around him more closely, trailing them up his back and his whole skin brakes out in goosebumps. One of your hands tangles in his hair, much more forceful now he’s given you permission. His hands wander as much as yours, he’s trying to commit every curve, every expanse of your skin to his drunken memory in the worry that this is some near-death-experience-induced hallucination.

But it’s still real when his hands sneak under your shirt, it’s still real when you take of his and start kissing across his chest. It’s still real when he strips you of your clothes and puts his mouth to your soaked core, it’s still real when you beg for more, your whimpers burned into his brain forever. It’s so so real when he enters you and when he feels you constrict around him until he’s releasing into the condom. You’re still real when you’re lying next to him in his tiny, messy dorm room, falling asleep curled into his side.

Unfortunately, it’s still real when he wakes up in the morning to your horrified expression. It’s real when both of you scramble out of bed, putting your clothes on backwards in the hurry and mumbling embarrassed ‘I’m sorry’s to each other. And it is all too real when you basically sprint out of his room only to send him a single text later that day, saying that, for the sake of your friendship, you’d be more than ready to just forget this ever happened.