#I was suddenly struck by the vision of them dancing together in their living room and if I wasn’t already lying down

[lumiilys]

If we get a season 3… and I get to see Stede and Ed being casually affectionate with each other… I fear I may explode into a million tiny pieces…

[sapphicromanoffxo]

Slow Dance With Me? | n.r. x w.m.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: fluff, smut, blow job, natasha has an enchanted strap on (courtesy of Wanda ofc), breeding kink, pregnancy scare-ish

Word count: 3,782

Summary: this is based on the request "Wanda and Natasha dancing to that Filipino song, Mabagal. Wanda not understanding the lyrics so Natasha whispers her the translation (cus homegirl probably knows a lot of languages)😩🫶😭🤌"

A/N: so uhhh I discovered that I sucked at translation because of this. But I added a little something at the end to somehow compensate for the lack of the end part of your request? @delulu-with-wandanat 👉👈🥺

╰┈➤ Masterlist

It was one of those rare days in the compound when none of them were away on missions. Wanda seized the opportunity to delve into American music, a quest to immerse herself further in the culture of her newfound home. Vision lent a hand in this musical discovery, assisting her in selecting vinyl records and even procuring the necessary equipment. Surprisingly, the android displayed an unexpected knack for online shopping, a talent that Wanda happily exploited, particularly since Vision discreetly charged their purchases to Stark's account. Given Stark's vast wealth, a missing hundred dollars or more would go unnoticed on his financial radar.

"Darling, there's no need to buy every single vinyl for each song you discover. We have Spotify and Apple Music for a reason; they make it easy to have these songs on your phone," Natasha chimed in, observing Wanda arranging her newly acquired records in the cabinet that Sam had thoughtfully purchased and was placed inside their shared room.

Wanda defended her latest online buying spree, "Steve was the one who suggested it. I simply followed his advice, love."

Natasha couldn't help but jest, "You do realise Steve is practically a living fossil. He was born from an era where the concept of downloading music online was unheard of."

"Tasha, please be kind to him. I'm planning to share my new purchases with Steve. They're classics, songs from his time. I'm sure he'll remember them," Wanda explained with sincerity as she contemplated playing one of the records to test it out.

The gentle melodies of the vinyl graced the room, carrying a slow, nostalgic tempo, the perfect soundtrack for an intimate dance between two lovers. Natasha immediately recognized the song and, with a hint of sadness, recalled, "I know this one. Steve used to play this song a lot. It reminds him of Peggy and the life they might have had if he hadn't been frozen in ice."

Wanda's heart sank upon hearing Natasha's words. It suddenly struck her that playing this song for Steve might evoke painful memories. She hesitated, "Maybe I shouldn't play it for him, then. I don't want to see him sad."

"Don't overthink it, baby. You know what, this song reminds of something I heard while I was on a mission in Asia," Natasha paused as she recalled the song. "FRIDAY, could you please play the song we were looking for yesterday?" Natasha requested from the AI, momentarily leaving Wanda perplexed. With a gentle smile, Natasha beckoned her lover closer.

"Come here, Princess. Will you dance with me?"

Wanda's heart swelled with affection as she nodded in agreement, deeply moved by Natasha's romantic gestures. In the two years that they had been together, she had come to understand that Natasha wasn't always one for being romantic through slow dancing. Wanda knows that dancing in general was a hard topic for Natasha especially with her past. But Wanda cherished every opportunity to indulge in Natasha's romantic side.

The sweet, melodic strains of "Mabagal" filled the room, and Natasha led Wanda into a slow, tender dance. Natasha's arms encircled Wanda's waist, while Wanda's found their place around Natasha's neck. As they swayed to the rhythm, the world outside faded away.

"What's the name of this song, Tash? It's in a different language," Wanda inquired, their bodies swaying to the unfamiliar tune.

Natasha smiled, her eyes dancing with fond memories. "It's a Filipino song. I heard it everywhere when I was in the Philippines, so I asked FRIDAY to find it and translate it for me."

"It's absolutely lovely, I adore it. But what's its meaning?" Wanda asked, her curiosity piqued.

Natasha's gaze softened and responded, "Well, the song translates to wanting to slow dance with your lover; however, the song is about taking things slowly and treasuring the current moment within a world that rushes by."

Wanda was deeply moved by the meaning of the song, and how she can relate to it. Starting their relationship had not been without its challenges. They had embarked on a path with little knowledge of what lay ahead, but they persevered, taking each day as it came and learning together. It was a reminder of how they had navigated the early stages of their relationship while the world continued to whirl around them at an unforgiving speed.

Lately, Natasha had been contemplating early retirement, the desire to build a settled life with Wanda growing stronger with each passing day. She reflected on the countless times where she almost lost her life, and the endless sacrifices that they had to make in order to restore peace. Now, she yearned for a peaceful future with the woman she loved, away from the chaos she had fought against for so long. Maybe they could discuss it once the time is right, after all, they are taking things slowly.

Natasha leaned in for a kiss on the lips and down to her neck which made Wanda melt at an instant and gave out a small moan. The spy's hands travelled downwards and firmly gripped Wanda's butt.

"Those vinys aren't only the ones I purchased online, you know?" Wanda said as they parted to catch their breaths.

"Oh yeah? You've got a surprise for me, baby doll?" Natasha continued her assault on Wanda's neck and sucked on her pulse points.

"Ahhh, yes, baby. You're so good to me." Wanda arched her neck, presenting it even more to the other woman. But she can't be distracted with Natasha's ministrations. "Oh god. Love, stop for a moment please"

Natasha indeed stopped and raised her brow at Wanda. "Okay. So what did you buy?"

"I bought a strap on."

Well, that left Natasha speechless and shocked. "What? Did Vision help you on that as well? Does he know about this?" She can't imagine how the android would think of this situation.

"No, no! Vision has no idea about this. I bought this on my own. I swear!" Wanda was quick to defend herself. Plus, she can't bring herself to reveal such information to the android.

"What gave you the idea to buy that toy?" Natasha inquired with her brow raised at Wanda.

"I found one in your closet. It seems you've used it with your other girls before, and I won't allow you to use it on me. And I threw yours away." Her words carried a hint of discomfort and insecurity knowing Natasha's history, it made her uneasy about the prospect of the very same toy being used on her.

"First of all, I don't even plan on using that on you. And secondly, I purchased one myself. It's on the bedside drawer. But I'd rather see what you bought. So show me what you've got."

Wanda hurriedly went to her own side of the closet and retrieved the toy. "I've already washed it and it's ready to be used." The witch said it playfully and Natasha was impressed.

"Very well. We can test it out right now. Remove your clothes and lay on the bed. FRIDAY, keep on playing the song."

Seeing Wanda naked body is gotta be the 8th wonder of the world. Natasha has seen countless of nude women but nothing compares to the beauty that is currently lying on top of her bed. She admired the witch even more through her wandering hands. Flicking the erect nipples which elicited a moan from Wanda.

"Your nipples are so sensitive, baby girl. I want to touch them all the time and make you squirm in desperation." Natasha replaced her hand with her mouth and started sucking on Wanda's breast, constantly biting and nipping the nipple.

"Natasha, please."

"Hmm? What do you want?"

"Please fuck me with your cock." Wanda demanded. She can't stop thinking how Natasha will fuck her using the toy. She had already daydreamed about it, almost forgetting to check out her chosen items that she placed on her online cart.

"Such a desperate kitten. I never peg you to be a cock whore." Natasha continued to taunt the witch but complied with what Wanda wants. She removed her clothes and kneeled on the bed to secure the harness on her waist and adjusted the 7-inch dildo that was hanging proudly in her crotch.

"Why don't you suck my cock first before I fuck you, huh? Come on, Princess."

Wanda's mouth waters at Natasha's command and kneeled in front of the woman, with her ass in the air. She gave Natasha a playful wink before taking the dildo in her mouth slowly.

Natasha gasped the moment Wanda's tongue touched the head of the dildo, she could almost feel how warm Wanda's mouth was on the faux cock. She can't determine whether she's comfortable with this new found sensation or not. "Fucking hell, detka. What have you done?"

"I put a spell on it, baby. It will feel like a real cock is attached to you. Can you feel my tongue swirling around at the tip of your cock, Daddy?" Wanda looked up with her tongue out, teasing the pulsing head.

"Oh God. Yes." The spy groaned at the sight below her. Wanda is taking the whole length in her mouth expertly and she even hollowed her cheek in order to fully accommodate the member. Natasha can hear the obscene slurping sound of Wanda's wet and warm mouth as she sucked her cock, bobbing her head up and down. "Fuck, fuck! Wanda! Slow down!"

Wanda did not slow down her movements at all and aggressively sucked the cock like a starved animal. Natasha can already feel the tightening in her stomach. She grabbed a handful of Wanda's hair and started thrusting her hips. The head touched deep within Wanda's throat which made her gagged and drooled all over the toy. But Natasha didn't care, she continued her thrusts and then blurted out a series of russian curse words as she tried to control the overwhelming sensation in her groin. "Yes, yes! Just like that, Wanda. God, you're so good with that mouth of yours."

The room is filled with grunts coming from the widow and she leaned forward a bit to spank Wanda's ass. "Jesus Christ, baby. You're going to be the death of me. I'm going to cum in your mouth. Wanda!"

Within the next seconds, Wanda whimpered as the widow unloaded her cum inside of Wanda's throat which she happily swallowed.

"Did you like it, Natasha?" The witch surely looked so smug and so proud of herself at the moment. She was able to put Natasha in this blissed out state and she can't wait to do it over and over again.

"You and that magic of yours is something else, baby." This will definitely put their sex life on a whole different level and you will never find Natasha complaining. Some of Natasha's cum leaked from Wanda's mouth and she pushed them back in using her thumb. "Hmm. Lay back, let me take care of you now."

Natasha didn't even waste a second and devoured Wanda's breasts with fervent need. There's nothing she loves more than burying her face on Wanda's tits.

The sounds that Wanda are making are music to Natasha's ears which made her more eager in pleasing the witch. At this point, Wanda is more than ready to be fucked by the faux cock but Natasha want to prolong the foreplay.

"Daddy, please, please, please! I need you to fuck me." Natasha can hear the desperation on Wanda's voice and smirked at her lover's pent up state.

"Patience my love. I want to play with your pussy first." Two fingers dance around Wanda's slippery pussy, throbbing everytime Natasha touches her clit ever so lightly.

"Natasha! Stop teasing me, please!"

"Since you've been a good girl, I'll give you what you want." The widow lined up her cock on Wanda's dripping entrance. She made sure to tease Wanda's clit and to also lubricate the tip of the cock before entering her pussy slowly and gently.

"Ahhhhh. Yes, Daddy. You feel so good inside me." Wanda purred as she felt the fullness of Natasha's cock, almost kissing her cervix. "Please go faster."

Natasha's breath hitched when she felt Wanda's velvety walls around her and how it gripped her length in the most delicious way. She'll make sure to please Wanda in every way possible for creating such a spell for this toy. What an experience this is, her girlfriend is probably the most powerful avenger out there but she's here, casting spells to further spice up their sex lives.

Natasha can't get enough of the sight before her. Wanda's tits are bouncing and moaning from her powerful thrusts. "Baby, you feel so around me. I will ruin your pussy. You hear me?"

"Yes, daddy!"

The bed was squeaking due to Natasha's brutal pounding, making Wanda's eyes roll back at her head. Wanda's back is arching and Natasha had to gripped her waist to hold her down and to seat a perfect rythm.

Natasha then gathered both Wanda legs and put them on each side of her shoulder that way, she can penetrate deeper. "Wanda, baby. You're clenching around me so much. I love it."

This new position is reaching places she thought never existed inside her and damn, she can feel the coil in her stomach, ready to snap at any moment. "My love, I'm going to cum! Plase fuck me harder!"

Ofcourse Natasha obliged Wanda's demands as she can also feel herself being close. "I'm going to cum inside you, okay? You'll be my little cumrag. Would you like that, huh?

"Do whatever you want with me, Daddy! Ahhh! I'm cumm— nghh!"

"Shit, shit. Wanda!'

Both women shared their orgasm in perfect unison, panting heavily after their release. Natasha had to pull out so she could lay down beside Wanda.

"Natasha, you're amazing. Oh my god." Wanda immediately wrapped her arm around Natasha and gave her so many kisses on the face.

"No, baby. You're amazing! Wherever did you learn how to enchant your toy, huh?" Natasha teased Wanda. She was curious as well on how her little witch learned such a thing. As far as she knows, she's been visiting Dr. Strange in order for her to fully grasp and wield her power.

"A lady never tells." Wanda giggled and hid her face at the crook of Natasha's neck.

Natasha sighed and did not push the brunette further. "Alright, keep your secrets then."

"Can you fuck me while you're wearing your suit, love?" Wanda challenged the other woman with a grin on her face.

"You became a demanding vixen now, huh? On your fours, you slut."

***

About a month had passed, and Tony Stark found himself sinking into a state of boredom. It might sound unbelievable, but he had exhausted every possible task. He recalibrated Sam's wings to ensure more efficient flying, boosted the power of Natasha's widow bites, and completed the design for Wanda's suit.

In search of a diversion, he decided to dive into the Avengers' financial history. To his relief, most of them were responsible with their expenses, except for Natasha, who had a penchant for acquiring motorcycle parts for her upgrades. Tony didn't mind their spending habits as long as they remained within legal boundaries.

However, his curiosity was piqued when he came across a recent payment in Wanda's records. It was a charge to the New York hospital, amounting to $200 for an obstetrician's services and an additional $100 for an ultrasound. Tony's mind began to race with questions. Was Wanda pregnant? And if so, how could that be possible when Natasha is her partner? Could they have both sought a donor and undergone in vitro fertilization? A thorough investigation of Wanda's financial records yielded no clues about any pregnancy-related procedures, leaving Tony utterly perplexed.

Determined to get to the bottom of this mystery, he summoned Vision to his lab. The android, he noticed, had taken to wearing regular clothes, abandoning his traditional cape, after Wanda playfully chided him for it. She believed that dressing like a human would make him blend in better, and Vision had taken her advice to heart.

"You called for me, Mister Stark?" Vision inquired, his attire emphasising his commitment to appearing more human.

"Have you noticed anything unusual about Wanda recently, like experiencing occasional nausea or when she doesn't like certain smells?"

"I'm not quite sure what you mean, Sir. Wanda appears to be in good health. She maintains a nutritious diet, and her training with Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff is progressing smoothly." Tony realised that questioning the android about human behavior might not be very productive.

"Well, I did some digging into her financial records, and it turns out she had an ultrasound. Our witch might be preggo."

Vision, curious but still learning about human reproduction, responded, "I've familiarised myself with human anatomy, but how could this be possible when Natasha is her partner? Two women can't naturally conceive a child, can they?"

Tony contemplated the situation and decided on a course of action. "One way to get answers is to speak to the person responsible for this pregnancy. FRIDAY, can you locate Natasha for us?"

"Agent Romanoff is currently in the common area with Miss Belova."

"Perfect. Let's head down there and question Romanoff." Tony and Vision made their way to the common area, determined to uncover the truth about Wanda.

***

After a demanding training session, the two widows had relocated from the common area to the kitchen to whip up a snack and refuel.

"Training with Captain Tight-ass is a lot more fun than with you, sestra," Yelena teased Natasha, her sister's training regimen being famously gruelling and somewhat inhumane, without even granting her a break after an exhausting hand-to-hand combat sequence.

"Admit that I beat you out there; you're getting soft and—"

Natasha's retort was abruptly cut short as Tony and Vision made their unannounced entrance.

"There she is, our soon-to-be mother. Oh! Are you preparing Wanda's cravings?" Tony asked, his tone laced with curiosity and a hint of exasperation

With one hand on her hip, the other clutching a wooden spoon, Natasha gave a puzzled look and responded, "What on Earth are you talking about, Stark?"

"Well, I'm just asking about the bun in Wanda's oven," Tony bluntly stated, clearly not one to beat around the bush.

Yelena stood up, a mix of shock and disbelief on her face. "What the fuck, Natasha! Is Wanda pregnant?"

Natasha, growing increasingly impatient, demanded, "Both of you, shut up! How could Wanda be pregnant?" She didn't even know it was possible unless Wanda's recent spell could manifest this somehow?

Tony couldn't help but relish the unfolding drama. "Wow, Mommy Natasha is completely unaware that her girlfriend might be pregnant. This is getting better and better by the second!"

Vision, attempting to contribute his observations, raised a finger and started, "I have overheard Wanda's cries at night, and it seems like she and Natasha are—"

Natasha issued a stern warning to Vision, her patience wearing thin. "I swear to God, Vision, say one more word, and you'll find yourself disassembled!"

"FRIDAY, please request Wanda's presence in the kitchen." Yelena prompted the AI. The day was quickly spiralling into chaos, and Natasha needed to know whether Wanda was truly pregnant or not.

A few minutes had passed when Wanda finally arrived, her senses instantly tingling with the weird atmosphere in the kitchen. "Uhm, what's happening here?" she inquired, her curiosity piqued.

Natasha, wasting no time, approached Wanda directly and cut right to the chase, "Are you pregnant?"

Wanda, taken aback, responded with confusion, "What? Where did you get that idea?"

Tony took it upon himself to answer Wanda's question. "I did some digging into everyone's financial history, and I noticed a payment made at the New York hospital just three days ago. It was for an obstetrician and an ultrasound. Care to explain that?"

Wanda sighed deeply, a gesture that left Natasha on edge. They were all too aware that the full extent of Wanda's powers remained a mystery, and the possibility of her using magic to become pregnant was entirely possible.

"I helped a lady at the hospital because her card was declined and she needed to pay her bills. So I volunteered to pay for her expenses," Wanda began, recounting the events of that fateful day. The distressed lady had faced an issue with her payment, and Wanda, with her compassionate nature, had stepped in to assist. She locked eyes with Natasha and emphasised, "I am not pregnant, okay?"

A collective sigh of relief swept through the kitchen's occupants, their tension dissipating.

Natasha, her hand resting on her chest, couldn't help but react as she approached Wanda, "You almost gave me a heart attack there, baby. Jesus Christ." The idea of motherhood had always been a daunting prospect for her especially with her past but this incident sparked the possibility of discussing the notion of starting a family together.

"I'm sorry for the scare, Nat," Wanda said, a sly grin spreading across her face. Natasha couldn't help but wish she could wipe the smirk off her lover's face.

Just as the tension in the kitchen seemed to be easing, Steve and Sam entered the scene, catching wind of the situation. Steve, always the inquisitive one, inquired, "What's going on here, guys?"

Tony, quick to provide an update, responded, "We thought our witchy was pregnant, but it turned out she's not. End of story."

Steve, with a mischievous glint in his eye, decided to tease Natasha further, "Natasha, can you be more responsible?"

In response, Natasha shot back, "Mind your own business, Rogers," her retort laden with a playful yet slightly exasperated tone.

After a while, the boys decided to also prepare their respective snacks, and when Natasha was plating their food, Wanda leaned in and whispered to Natasha, "I discovered a song today. I like it so much. I want to share it with you."

"Oh yeah? What is it?" Natasha asked with genuine curiosity and the curiosity indeed killed the cat right after Wanda ordered the AI to play the said song.

The sound system came to life, filling the room with a playful, infectious beat. Natasha was just getting comfortable and was even bobbing her head, but her relaxation was cut off immediately. The lyrics of the song struck her like a lightning bolt, almost giving her the second heart attack of the day when Wanda began rapping them. "Oh God, no."

"Yeah, you fucking with some wet ass pussy

Bring a bucket and a mop for this wet ass pussy

Give me everything you got for this wet ass pussy!"

[themculibrary]

Teen And Up Rated Fics Masterlist

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Alternatively: How Peter Parker effectively fucks over Bucky Barnes, and also totally saves him.

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or: the one where tony was dusted instead of peter, so he and pepper try to figure out the whole ‘family’ thing together.

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Tony Stark: Appliance Whisperer - Alex51324 T, 12k

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[articlemedia]

A love Story at Ballymagarvey Village (Fictonial)

Emma stood before the full-length mirror, her fingers trembling slightly as she smoothed down the front of her ivory gown. The soft lace caught the morning light streaming through the window of the bridal suite at Ballymagarvey Village. Outside, birds chirped merrily in the lush gardens, as if nature itself was celebrating this day.

"You look absolutely breathtaking," her mother whispered, eyes glistening with unshed tears as she fastened the last pearl button at the nape of Emma's neck.

Emma's heart fluttered with a mixture of nerves and excitement. In just a few short hours, she would be walking down the aisle to marry James, her best friend and soulmate. Their journey had led them here, to this enchanting 18th-century manor house nestled in the Irish countryside of County Meath.

As her bridesmaids bustled around the room in a flurry of pastel chiffon and laughter, Emma's mind drifted back to the day James had proposed. It had been right here at Ballymagarvey Village, during a weekend getaway to celebrate their third anniversary. They had been strolling through the walled garden, hand in hand, when James suddenly dropped to one knee amidst a sea of blooming roses. The ring he presented sparkled almost as brightly as the tears in his eyes as he asked her to spend the rest of their lives together.

There had been no question where they would hold their wedding. Ballymagarvey Village had captured their hearts from the moment they first visited. The blend of rustic charm and elegant refinement perfectly mirrored their own relationship - grounded yet aspirational, timeless yet filled with youthful energy.

A gentle knock at the door snapped Emma back to the present. Her father peeked his head in, his face a mixture of pride and wistfulness. "It's time, sweetheart," he said softly.

With a deep breath, Emma took her father's arm and stepped into the hallway. The rich scent of polished wood and fresh flowers enveloped her as they made their way downstairs. Through the windows, she caught glimpses of guests being seated in the picturesque courtyard where the ceremony would take place.

As they paused at the entrance to the courtyard, the string quartet began to play. Emma's bridesmaids proceeded down the aisle, a vision in soft blue. And then, all eyes turned to her.

The world seemed to slow as Emma took her first steps towards James. He stood waiting for her beneath an arch twined with roses and ivy, looking dashing in his tailored suit. But it was the expression of pure love and awe on his face that nearly took her breath away.

Their vows were personal and heartfelt, eliciting both laughter and tears from their gathered loved ones. As they sealed their union with a kiss, cheers erupted and rose petals showered down upon them. In that moment, surrounded by the beauty of Ballymagarvey Village and the warmth of their family and friends, Emma and James felt truly blessed.

The celebration continued into the converted barn, its soaring beamed ceiling strung with twinkling fairy lights. During the reception, glasses clinked and laughter rang out as guests enjoyed a sumptuous feast of local Irish cuisine. The band struck up a lively tune, and soon the dance floor was filled with revelers of all ages.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow across the grounds, Emma and James slipped away for a quiet moment together. They wandered hand in hand through the walled garden where their journey as an engaged couple had begun. The air was heavy with the scent of roses and the promise of new beginnings.

"I can't believe we're actually married," Emma marveled, leaning her head against James's shoulder.

He squeezed her hand and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Believe it, Mrs. O'Connor. You're stuck with me now."

They shared a laugh, both feeling a sense of contentment and rightness that they had never experienced before. As they stood there in the fading light, the distant sounds of their wedding celebration drifting on the breeze, they knew that they had found their forever home in each other.

The party continued long into the night, with guests dancing and mingling beneath the stars. The historic stone walls of Ballymagarvey Village seemed to glow with warmth and joy, as if absorbing the love and happiness of the day to be preserved for generations to come.

As the celebration wound down in the early hours of the morning, Emma and James bid farewell to their guests and retired to the bridal suite. Exhausted but elated, they collapsed onto the plush bed, still in their wedding finery.

"Thank you for making me the happiest man alive," James murmured, pulling Emma close.

She smiled up at him, her heart full to bursting. "Thank you for choosing me to spend forever with."

As they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, the first light of dawn began to creep across the sky. It was the dawn of a new day, and the beginning of their new life together. And there, in the tranquil beauty of Ballymagarvey Village, Emma and James's love story had written its most beautiful chapter yet.

In the years to come, they would return to Ballymagarvey Village to celebrate anniversaries and milestones. Each visit would bring back the magic of their wedding day, reminding them of the vows they made and the love that continued to grow stronger with each passing year. And perhaps one day, they would watch their own children exchange vows beneath the same rose-covered arch, adding new chapters to the timeless romance of Ballymagarvey Village.

[spacexcowgirl]

Hate To Think About You With Somebody Else - F.W.

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Fred and Y/N used to be friends with benefits, but that arrangement ended in heartbreak. Can Fred handle seeing her out with somebody else?

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: 18+ NSFW. MINORS DNI. Mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood, small bit of violence/fight scene (the reader and Fred are not injured), possessive talk, fingering, degradation, bondage, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, a bit angsty with a happy ending. Please let me know if I’ve forgotten anything!

A/N: For @theweasleytwinsgirl​ who asked for the reader teasing Fred, leading to her being tied up! I added a bit of plot to it, because I cannot help it. Obviously, this fic is lightly inspired by “Somebody Else” by The 1975. I am not very confident in my smut writing abilities, so any feedback would be appreciated! I also feel I should thank @lumosandnoxwriting for giving me advice and reassurance throughout writing this. Pictures are from Pinterest.

I have not included all of my general taglist, because I do not know who is 18+ or who wants to be tagged in smut.

Fred, George, Angelina, and Alicia sat leisurely around the twins’ shared living room, laughing and giggling over drinks. The past few weeks had been hell at the shop, so the boys felt they needed a much deserved night to just relax. Previously, Fred would have liked nothing more than to relieve his tension with Y/N, but unfortunately, that was no longer an option. 

“Have you heard about Y/N and Pucey?” Angelina prodded with a giggle, her eyes alit with mischief. 

Fred’s jaw immediately clenched at the sound of her name, his grip on his glass tightening. He most certainly hadn’t heard about her in a few weeks, and he hadn’t expected to have such a visceral reaction at the mere mention of her name. Regaining his composure, he forced himself to relax a bit and quirk a brow, feigning both confusion and interest.

“No? They shagging?” George questioned, sitting forward in his seat.

“Apparently, but I guess it’s becoming a bit more serious than just that.” Angelina shrugged, turning her gaze to Alicia beside her for confirmation. When the second girl nodded, Fred downed another gulp of his drink.

That can’t be right, he thought. It hadn’t even been a month since the last time they had been together, Y/N pinned beneath him as breathy moans escaped her lips. In the dim light of his bedroom, she had whispered to him that her pussy was his, that she was his, and now, apparently, she was with someone else. Some part of him knew that he had no right to be upset, because truthfully, it was his choice to end their little arrangement. But she had left him no choice after breaking their number one rule.

Y/N and Fred had ventured past friendly acquaintanceship about a year before, after a few too many firewhiskys at an infamous Weasley twins’ party. The morning after, they had tiptoed around each other, clearly uncomfortable by the change in dynamic. But it didn’t take long for it to happen again, and again, and again. Before either of them had really realized it, they had become much more than friends but much less than really together, and Fred wanted to keep it that way. He wanted them to remain in that middle ground.

As far as he knew, Y/N was more than fine with where they stood with each other. Until one day, she wasn’t. He remembered clearly how she had bit her lip and gazed at him, only moments after finishing him off with her mouth. He had looked at her curiously, wondering where her usual, joking, post-coital self had gone. 

“Have you ever thought of me as more than, you know, just an easy fuck?”

Her words had shocked him, because they certainly weren’t the turn of phrase he would have used. He didn’t think of her as ‘an easy fuck,’ he thought of her as a friend. Someone he cared deeply for. But as he gazed into her desperate eyes, he was struck with the realization that he didn’t care for her the way she hoped. He had swallowed deeply, preparing his words in his mind, before shattering her heart.

Now, he wasn’t sure why he cared. Sure, he had thought about her a lot in the weeks they’d been apart, but he was always so sure that he had made the right choice. Relationships were messy, and he was young, so he had no intention to be tied down so soon. Still, the thought of her with Adrian Pucey made his blood boil, and he wished desperately that he could put an explanation to the feeling.

“Fred?” 

The sound of his name tore him from his thoughts of Y/N, and he quickly plastered on his signature goofy grin before sitting forward and re-immersing himself in the conversation. Still, in the back of his mind, images of Y/N and Adrian played on repeat, fueling a fire that he hadn’t realized was a lit within him.

-

A week later, Fred found himself at a party at Oliver Wood’s flat, celebrating a win for Puddlemere United. There was an array of different people there, ranging from his old Hogwarts team, to groupies, to people who had just showed up at the mention of a party. Fred had planned on getting drunk that night, but after seeing George and Lee sloppily grinding on a few witches in an intoxicated bliss, he decided maybe—for once—he would be the responsible one.

Fred had gone nearly an hour, just barely nursing a glass of firewhisky and chatting with old friends jovially, before his eyes landed on a familiar face entering the party. 

Fred was frozen at the eye contact they held, his first time seeing her in weeks. Y/N held the gaze for a moment, before turning to grip Adrian’s wrist behind her and drag him further into the party. If Fred thought he had a strong reaction to hearing about their relationship, it was nothing compared to actually seeing it. Fred slammed his drink down and walked away from the poor girl he had been chatting with without so much as an explanation.

“Let’s get out of here.” Fred clapped a hand down on George’s shoulder the moment he reached him, pulling his attention away from the girl dancing against him.

“Now?” George questioned incredulously, his brows raising. He gestured to the girl in his arms before returning a pleading look to his brother. “Come on, mate. This isn’t a great time.”

Fred knew he could convince his brother to leave if he explained, but his mouth felt entirely too dry. He couldn’t seem to formulate the words as to why he needed to get out of there. So, instead, he sighed and offered his brother a nod before retreating back to the outskirts of the people dancing.

Normally, Fred was the life of the party. By this point in the night, he’d usually be plastered and singing or dancing with no remorse. But seeing Y/N with a bloke like Pucey caused him to have an entire demeanor change, leaving him scowling leaned against the wall.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to find Y/N amongst those dancing, pressed closely to Pucey behind her. She was dancing provocatively, even turning in the man’s grasp every little bit to kiss him sloppily. At first, Fred had been almost certain that she was doing it on purpose. The way she was right in his line of vision, acting completely out of character in her open demeanor, it all felt like too much for him to handle. 

Then, she made eye contact with him, and held it, and he just knew. She was doing it on purpose. All of her actions had been a way to get him worked up, to see if he would get jealous, and dammit it was working. Fred chewed on the inside of his cheek, holding her gaze as she grinded her bum against Pucey. She held his gaze as she slowly craned her neck and pulled Adrian into a searing kiss, her eyes back on Fred the moment the two pulled apart.

That was the final straw for Fred. He wasn’t going to stand idly by while she taunted him so openly, showing him everything he was missing. So, he pushed through the crowd of people and found his way to the two of them, ignoring the small smirk that had risen on her face. 

“Y/N,” He breathed out, just loud enough for her to hear over the music. Suddenly, he was entirely unsure of his next move, but he desperately wanted to regain control over the situation. So, he said the first thing that came to mind. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Oi, what the hell, Weasley?” Adrian paused his dancing, although his hands remained gripped on Y/N’s waist. “Can’t you see we’re a little busy here?”

Fred completely ignored the man at first, his eyes never leaving Y/N. He could see by the look on her face that he had played exactly into what she wanted, but with the jealousy coursing through him, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. She smirked slightly at Fred before craning her neck to look back at Adrian, almost as if she were challenging him to fight for her further. 

“I can see,” Fred seethed, finally looking up at Adrian. “I can see a poor girl not having a very good time. So, I’m offering her a better option. Why don’t you let her decide?”

Adrian scoffed, taking a small step back from Y/N but keeping one hand on her hip. He looked down at her, waiting expectantly for her to deny any desire to go off with Fred. When she simply glanced between the two of them, Adrian’s brows furrowed and a look of offense overtook his features.

“Come on, Y/N.” He pleaded. “Tell him.”

Y/N bit down on her lip, the action only infuriating Adrian further. He looked at her incredulously before scoffing and turning his head away.

“Should’ve known a desperate little slut like you couldn’t be loyal.”

In an instant, Fred pushed Y/N out of the way and landed a hard blow to Adrian’s jaw. Y/N was dazed, everything seeming to move in slow motion as all eyes turned on them. Adrian had faltered only for a moment, cupping his jaw in his hand before straightening up and lunging towards Fred.

Luckily, George and Lee were there after a moment, tearing Adrian away and threatening to pummel him as they marched him towards the door. Y/N knew Fred wouldn’t need their help in a fight, but she was still grateful that a full out brawl hadn’t occurred because of her. Y/N rushed to Fred, cradling his fist in her hand and glancing up at his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Her voice was soft, but the music had stopped, so he could hear her.

“‘m fine.” He answered curtly, glancing between the way she held his hand and her eyes. “So, can we get out of here?”

Y/N’s lips formed into a tight line, so as to conceal the smirk that desperately wanted to break through. She offered him a quick nod, and in an instant he was dragging her out the door and apparating her back to his flat.

The moment that they were in Fred’s room and the door shut, his lips were on hers. Her back was pressed up against his door, desperate little moans leaving her mouth as she reveled in the feeling of having him against her once more. Fred took the opportunity to push his tongue into her mouth when her lips parted, taking full control of the situation.

Y/N was more than content to let him take over, having missed him in their time apart more than she would ever like to admit. Of course, the feelings she still held for him lingered strongly, but she tried not to think about that as Fred pressed himself further against her. Adrian had been nothing more than a distraction, a feeble hope that she had held onto as a way to get over the tall red head, but it clearly hadn’t worked. She felt a bit bad, because she knew Adrian cared about her far more deeply than she did him, but she also knew she had made it clear she didn’t want a relationship. The irony was sickening.

“That was quite a show you were putting on tonight.” Fred pulled away from her breathlessly, his eyes tracking up and down her body.

“Yeah?” Y/N cocked her head to the side, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you mean, I was just having a bit of fun.”

A low growl crawled out of his throat as he pressed his lips to hers once more, using more force than previously. Y/N squeaked at the intensity, but quickly melted into him. His hands trailed up and down her sides as she rested her own around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

Fred’s hands finally made their way to the hem of her shirt, his fingers ghosting over the skin of her stomach and sending a shockwave throughout her. Slowly, he trailed his fingers up, raising her shirt up in his wake. Y/N was quick to oblige, breaking away from him to allow him to tear the garment off completely. 

For a moment, Fred’s eyes trailed over her slightly revealed form, drinking in the way she looked half-naked. He hadn’t realized how much he missed seeing her like this, and he found that his breath hitched at even the littlest bit of exposure.

As his eyes met her pleading ones, he quickly recovered. Their passion resumed in an instant as he pressed his lips to hers once more, spinning her away from the door and walking her backwards towards his bed. Y/N allowed him to lightly push her back onto it, her heart fluttering at the sudden gentleness of his actions. She’d always loved the dominance he held over her, but something about what was happening between them now felt different. But, as he draped his body over her own, all of her hopes of actual romance melted away and her mind was entirely clouded with just the appeal of him.

Y/N arched herself against Fred, giving him the space to unclasp her bra. He slid the straps down her arms slowly, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her jaw and neck, until he finally met the tops of her breasts. He cast her bra aside, shooting her one last look before taking a pebbled nipple into his mouth. Y/N moaned at the contact, her fingers immediately threading themselves through his flaming hair. As his teeth gently grazed her nipple she gave his hair a tug, causing him to moan against her.

Fred continued his trail downward, planting kisses down her torso until he made it to the band of her leggings. Y/N lifted her hips and Fred held eye contact with her as he slowly pulled them down her legs. Y/N realized that he seemed to be drawing all of this out, pushing her to the point of pure desperation to make her pay for teasing him all night. Still, she bit her tongue and held back any thoughts of pleading with him, she couldn’t give in that easy.

When she was left in nothing but her panties, Fred sat back on his knees and leisurely unbuttoned his shirt. Y/N watched him intently, her frustration increasing significantly, until she could no longer contain it. She let out a desperate whine, pleading with the man with her eyes alone.

“Something wrong, love?” Fred cocked his head to the side and smirked.

“Freddie,” Y/N whined, the nickname feeling foreign yet fitting on her tongue.

Fred discarded his shirt before circling his hand around on of her ankles and hitching it up on his shoulder. He placed a soft kiss to the inside of her ankle before slowly trailing kisses back up her leg towards her thigh. Y/N shuttered as his lips ghosted over her clothed pussy, her eyes squeezing shut.

“Please.”

Fred looped one finger under the hem of her lace panties, but made no effort to pull them down. When a low chuckle escaped his lips, Y/N knew she was in trouble. Her eyes flew open once more, immediately meeting his darkened, lust-filled ones.

“Did you really think I’d give in that easy?” Fred mocked, punctuating his question by snapping the band of her underwear. “You tease me all night, putting on a show for me, acting like a desperate little slut.” He paused to wet his lips, drinking in the soft moan that escaped from her lips. “That is what you are, isn’t it?”

“Only for you, Freddie.” 

“Really?” Fred scoffed, sitting back up to begin fiddling with his belt. Y/N raised herself up on her forearms, desperation and arousal pooling in her core. “Because it didn’t seem that way tonight.” Fred’s tongue darted out of his mouth, swiping over his bottom lip as he gazed at her hungrily. “Think maybe I might need to remind you whose slut you are. What do you think?”

She whimpered, but managed a feeble nod. In their previous times together, her and Fred were nothing if not adventurous in the bedroom. Still, as he waved his wand and bound her wrists to his headboard, she couldn’t help but gasp and lightly fight against the restraints. Fred held a devilish smirk at her plight as he stood from the bed and sat his wand back down.

Fred crawled back over her, his intense dominance faltering for just a moment as he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Still remember the safe word, yeah?”

“Yes, Freddie.” She managed to speak, although it was difficult. Fred leaned back and searched her eyes for a moment before leaning in and placing a soft kiss to her lips. After that, any sense of gentleness faded.

Fred’s lips sucked and bit at her neck hungrily, one of his large hands trailing down to rub her through her panties while the other massaged her breast. Y/N’s thighs clamped around his hand, which quickly earned her a light swat to her hip.

“Stay still, or I’ll have no problem tying your legs up too.” Fred growled against her neck.

Y/N quickly obliged, spreading her legs further open. While previously she may have been more inclined to push Fred a bit, her mind was too clouded with lust to do anything but obey him. After weeks of mediocre sex with Adrian, she was ready to completely give herself over to Fred, and let him have her in anyway he wanted.

Fred’s hand pushed the fabric of her panties aside, allowing one finger to drag through her wet folds. She was already soaking wet for him, despite the fact he’d hardly touched her. Without a warning, he plunged one finger into her, lightly moaning at the way she constricted around him. Y/N’s back arched ever so slightly against him, tugging futilely against her bound wrists. He set a steady pace, thrusting his finger in and out of her before adding another and scissoring the two. He changed pace after a moment, beginning to curl his fingers up into her as his thumb rubbed circles against her waiting clit. The pressure in her core grew quickly from that, and she couldn’t help the way she loudly moaned out.

“Right there, yes, oh god…”

Fred was now smirking as he pulled away from her neck, significantly satisfied with the many markings he’d left as well as how quickly he could bring her to this point. He knew her body like the back of his hand, he knew her signs for when she was close, and it made it so much easier to enact his plan.

Just as Y/N was teetering on the edge, desperate whines and random babbles leaving her lips, Fred pulled his hand away. She let out a frustrated and confused groan, her eyes flying open as she felt the build up slowly slip away. Fred just grinned at her, before getting off the bed and ridding himself of his trousers and boxers. He lazily stroked himself as he took her in, chest heaving and covered in a light sheen of sweat, completely at his mercy. She had stopped her attempts at fighting her restraints, looking at him like she were almost defeated. In her mind, she’d begun to fear the very real possibility that Fred wouldn’t let her cum at all.

“You seem frustrated.” Fred cooed mockingly, coming to lean back over her and gently brush her cheek. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Fred.” Y/N spoke firmly, though her eyes portrayed her fears. “You’ve got to let me finish.”

“Hm.” Fred seemed to ponder that, leaning back to slowly pull her panties down her legs. “I don’t think I have to do anything. In fact, I could just leave you here all tied up and needy.”

“Please,” Y/N whined, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. “I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

“It’s a start.” Fred tutted, finally discarding her panties aside. He leaned down near her ear once more, his warm breath sending a chill down her spine. “What I’d really like, though, is to hear how much you need me. Wanna hear you say it.”

“Please, Freddie, I need your cock so bad. Need you to ruin me.” Y/N cried out, losing all sense of dignity as her sex-addled brain took over. Fred had intended to tease her much longer, but her desperate pleas were going straight to his cock, and he couldn’t hold out any longer.

“That’s all you had to say, love.”

Fred hitched her leg around his hip, gripping his cock in his free hand. He teased the head through her wet folds, shivering at the moan she let out from just the smallest contact. Then, he pushed his hips forward, not stopping until he was completely buried in her. Their low moans mixed together in the quiet of the room, Fred being careful not to move until he was sure she had adjusted to his size.

“Fuck, I forgot how fucking good you feel.” He groaned, burying his face in her neck.

“Move… Please.”

He needed no further encouragement. Fred pulled out about halfway before snapping his hips back forward, setting a brutal but steady pace. Y/N’s loud moans and Fred’s grunts mixed together, accompanied only by the sound of their skin on skin contact. Y/N could feel her orgasm building again as his dick hit her g-spot with every thrust, and she was almost embarrassed by how quickly he could bring her to this point. 

“‘m so close, Freddie.” Y/N breathed out, knowing it would only infuriate him further if she came without his permission.

“Already?” Fred scoffed, although he knew he wasn’t far behind. 

Still, he wasn’t ready for things to end so soon, so he pulled out completely, ignoring the desperate whine that left her throat. He pulled both of her legs together and pushed her knees up against her chest, holding her ankles together with one hand before thrusting back into her desperate cunt. The new position allowed him to hit deeper within her as he thrust downward, causing Y/N to scream out. The pain was delicious, it was everything she had longed for in their time apart.

“You really think you deserve to cum?” Fred grunted, landing a particularly hard thrust into her. “After everything you pulled tonight?”

“Please.” Y/N whined. She was so close, she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle it if he stole another orgasm from her.

“Answer the question, slut.” Fred demanded, his pace quickening ever so slightly. “That’s what you are, isn’t it? A desperate little cum slut.”

“Yes.” Y/N cried out. “But only for you, Freddie. Just a slut for you.”

“That’s right.” Fred’s rhythm had begun to falter, approaching his own orgasm quickly. Still, he was unsure if he’d let her finish or not. “You’re my little slut. Only I get to call you that, right?”

“Yes, Freddie.” Y/N whined, beginning to tug again on her restraints. She wanted nothing more than to scrape her nails down his back, but being completely at his mercy turned her on endlessly.

“Good.” Fred was close, so fucking close, but he had made his decision. So he had to hold off. “Cum for me, then. You’ve earned it.”

That was all the encouragement she needed, and as Fred hit one more thrust into her g-spot she was tumbling over the edge. Electricity seemed to shoot all throughout her body as she loudly moaned out his name. Her legs were shaking and she was certain she’d be sore tomorrow, but she had little time to care about that as he continued to pound into her.

Y/N knew Fred well, just as well as he knew her, so she knew he was close. Her mind felt almost entirely blank and she wasn’t sure she had much energy for anything, but she wanted to bring him to his release badly. So, she clenched around him, a moan leaving her lips when he stuttered and groaned. His thrusts were faltering significantly, and after a few moments he was crying out her name as he finished in her. 

Fred pulled out and dropped her legs before crashing down next to her. He knew that he needed to untie her, but they also both just needed a moment to breathe. All that could be heard was the sounds of their mixed pants as they both came down from their highs. Once he was significantly more relaxed, he gripped his wand and swished it lazily, effectively removing the restraints she was held in.

Y/N hands dropped down and she quickly went to rub at her wrists, but Fred was quick to bat her hands away and do it himself. He examined both wrist closely, seeming to want to ensure that they were okay.

“They weren’t too tight, were they?” Fred implored after a moment. His genuine concern made her heart flutter, and she couldn’t help herself as she leaned in and placed a soft kiss to his lips.

“No, they were perfect—all of it was perfect.” She sighed as she pulled away from him. Her general cognition was beginning to return, and with it her fears of all of the pain she had gone through in the past etched their way through.

Sure, Fred had clearly gotten jealous at the party. Then, he had gotten possessive and claimed her in the bedroom. But that didn’t necessarily mean that he harbored the same feelings for her that she had for him. The fear nearly paralyzed her, and she wasn’t sure if she should quickly redress and flee the room or implore what this all meant. Luckily, he answered her internal questioning before she even had to ask.

“I don’t want to see you out with Pucey.” Fred sighed, his eyes not meeting hers. “Which is a total prat thing to say, but it’s true. I don’t want to see you out with any bloke, really.”

“Fred…” Y/N spoke tentatively, her eyes begging him to speak further.

“I want you, Y/N. Like, really.” Fred finally met her gaze. “Not just in my bed.”

“What, do you want me on the couch too?” Y/N tried to joke, hoping it would cover up her nervous tone. But it didn’t. So, her voice became soft. “Don’t get my hopes up, Freddie.”

“I’m being serious.” He shook his head. “I want to take you out on fancy dates, or watch movies with you on my couch. Bloody hell, I want to bring you to my parent’s house for Sunday dinners. I don’t know, I’m not good at this. Whatever it is that couples do.”

“Fred Weasley,” A small smile had begun to grow on Y/N’s face. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“Yes.” Fred answered earnestly. “That is, only if you’re going to say yes. Otherwise, this was all just a joke—”

Y/N shut him up by pressing her lips to his, her mouth still curled upwards in a smile. It was impossible to hide the genuine happiness that his words brought her.

“Yes.” She answered softly as she pulled away.

A similar smile began to grow on Fred’s face as he completely registered her words, and he couldn’t help but dive back in for another kiss. Y/N was his, completely. Something he’d probably wanted for so long, but had simply been too daft to realize it. Now, as he held her in his arms, he promised himself he’d never make such a mistake again.

Tagging a few 18+ mutuals from my usual taglist: @wand3ringr0s3 @gcdric @theweasleysredhair 

[shadowsinger11]

Insomniacs In Love

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Description: Wrote this ficlet for @wand3ringr0s3 's writing challenge. Congrats on your milestone, Haley!! I'm so proud of ya and ily so much girl💕💕

Warnings: Brief descriptions of war

Tags: @spilled-prose @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hufflexpuff @neovannii @jenniweasley @theweasleysredhair @elf-punk @heart-of-tempered-steel @itseatyourdamnapples @aaannabbanana @l0ttadreamz @potter-redheads

Message me to be added!

Masterlist

The white ceiling was staring right back at you.

Your tired eyes had no strength to fight back the hot trail of bitter tears rolling down your cheeks and falling on your pillow. The heavy, cold sheets, tangled between your legs, shrivelled even more under you as you struggled to ease your anxious mind into sleep, but every blink would bring images of explosions and unmoving bodies. The intrusive smell of blood and rotting flesh had been ingrained into your brain for years; the earsplitting, violent screams of terror had become nothing more than a background noise.

Adults and children were fighting side by side, desperately holding onto whatever hope for a future they might have had. The fresh summer soil was soaked in blood, old and young; with a burning passion, you prayed to whoever could hear you, that you wouldn't spot the faces of your loved ones in the sea of corpses that stretched out far into the distance.

There was chaos, and in between - grim visions of morning light.

You couldn't fall asleep, not when you could still vividly picture that night as though it had just been yesterday. Years later, the memory didn't fail to turn you into its slave every time you'd close your eyes.

The moon was wide awake. The air seemed to not be enough for you and the buzzing silence had nearly driven you to the point of insanity when you finally jumped out of your bed. The sharp moonlight caused your silhouette to dance as you walked barefoot out of your bedroom.

It was eerily unsettling to be strolling down the hallway of Fred and George's apartment without being bombarded by cheerful laughter and occasional explosions - there was only creaking of wooden stairs as you walked down to the kitchen. You poured yourself a full glass of cold water and immediately downed it entirely, hoping it would shake off the anxiety bubbling in your stomach.

You took a refill for just in case and sat beside the small kitchen table. You let out a deep breath and rested your head in your palms, shoulders heavy as if the carried the world.

A gentle voice nearly caused you to knock over the glass.

"Trouble sleeping?"

You looked up from your lap to see George standing by the doorway, hands in the pockets of his pajamas. His spiky hair and sleepy gaze let you know he had just woken up, but his expression immediately softened when he noticed your tearful eyes.

You smiled as best as you could, "You have no idea."

George approached you and sat beside you. He moved closer to try to take a better look at your distressed face; he didn't miss the stiffness of your body and the puffiness of your bloodshot eyes. The sight sent an electric shock through him and his heart began to ache.

"You're pretty shaken up, darling. What's wrong?" He asked just above a whisper, as though he was afraid he'd scare you away. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and you leaned into his touch, seeking some kind of warmth.

How could you explain to him you were still being haunted by the past? It had been years, why were you still chained by sorrow? You hated yourself for letting it settle in your bones, for not being able to return to the person you once used to be.

George was unharmed and so was his family. You were too. There was no logical reason for you to be thinking about it. Nevertheless, your nightmares were the reason you'd wake up every night in cold sweat, limbs of lead. Yet George didn't know a thing.

"It's nothing to worry about," you assured him despite your stomach twisting at the lie you had just spat out. "Just bad dreams."

"You seem to get a lot of those lately," George stated sympathetically; he could always read you so effortlessly. The sudden vulnerability caused you to shrink further into your chair, a fresh tear rolling down your cheek.

Your friend wiped it away with the pad of his thumb and hummed.

"That's alright. So do I."

"How do you know this about me?" you questioned, more confused rather than embarrassed.

His lips curled up in a tiny, sad smile, "You're not the only one wandering the house at night, sweetheart."

"I didn't know you still dream of… of it," you let out in a moment of realization. You didn't have to say what exactly you were referring to - you shared the same tragic memory.

"Yes, I do," he murmured. "Every night."

Your eyes met his dark brown ones and your heart sank; they were just as tortured as yours, and lacked the spark they once possessed. Never had you believed George would have to feign joy in his lifetime, he was the source of joy to everyone around him. But how could you expect flowers to bloom in a garden that's been burned to the ground?

Silence fell over you. Your eyes burned again.

"You should try to get some sleep," George advised, attempting to mask his hoarse voice, shaking ever so slightly. Your face fell. "I know it might be hard, but you can't risk getting a headache in the morning, you know."

The moon was still shining brightly through the window, illuminating his concerned face and the tears that had already formed in his eyes.

You swallowed hard.

"You're right. But I don't really want to go. It's just…" you sighed. Your hands were trembling. "It feels kinda lonely up there."

George nodded in understanding; there was no judgement in the way he observed you. He himself had spent way too many cold, sleepless nights. Fighting the same demons as you. 

It hurt him beyond measure to know you too were being held hostage by the weight of the past; the past which was robbing you both of your future. But what hurt him more was his inability to help you. He desperately yearned to heal you of your misery and hear your laughter, the laughter that had made him fall for you long before he even knew what love was.

The redhead was suddenly struck by an idea and his shoulders relaxed, a small smile causing his dimple to appear.

"I can go to bed with you, if that's okay with you, of course. Only until you fall asleep, that is. Then I'll go back to my room."

Your instinctive reaction was to refuse, but you stopped yourself before you could respond. Surely it wouldn't be so bad to have company, would it? It didn't seem like George was only doing it out of pity either; he genuinely cared about you and had your best interest in mind.

"You can say no, it's fine," said George when he didn't receive a reply. "I don't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"It's okay with me, I promise," you mirrored his smile. "Shall we go?"

You rose to your feet and headed towards your bedroom upstairs, George following closely behind. He couldn't recall a previous time when he had been in there, and he was pleasantly surprised to see how you had changed the design to your liking after you had moved in to live with the twins. The room looked cozy and truly felt like... you.

You were the first to climb into the bed and scooted over to make room for George's long legs. The mattress sank under his weight and he pulled the covers over the two of you, making sure he didn't take too much of them. George then rolled over to the opposite side, not wishing to invade your personal space.

Despite being taken aback by his action, you did the same - if that was the closest you'd get to being together with him, so be it.

You pulled the blanket over your shoulder and closed your eyes, but alas, your lungs constricted with anxiety. The intrusive silence let your mind wander back to memories you had been trying so hard to push away. The empty space behind your back was cold.

Less than an hour later, you were still as awake as you could be. Your friend was a quiet sleeper and thus you had no idea if he was asleep yet or if he was about to drift off. Nevertheless, you still felt guilty for whispering.

"Georgie?"

Rustling in the bedsheets.

"Hm?"

You wettened your lips and timidly asked, "Can I hold your hand?... For just a bit?"

George turned around and you expected to see him scowl for being woken up like that, especially for a thing as silly as your request. But you were met with such a fond expression, immense care swimming in his eyes.

Any sleepiness was nonexistent on his features; he couldn't fall asleep either.

"Of course," he smiled and lifted your hand to press a tender kiss to your wrist. His soft lips stayed there, pulse racing madly underneath, and the warmth lingered on the skin long after George pulled away and placed your hand on his chest. You let out a quiet gasp when you felt his own heart hammering against his ribs.

His other hand slid down to your waist and pulled you closer. You buried your face in his neck.

You could finally breathe.

He began tracing lazy patterns on your lower back. "Better?"

"Better."

George's fingers lightly grazed your skin, slow and gentle touch never once stopping its loving path. Drowsiness welcomed you much sooner than you had expected and your eyes fluttered closed. The last thing you remembered was George's lips on your eyelids.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep your demons at bay at least for just one night. George gave into slumber as well, both of you engulfed by divine serenity until the bright moon hid behind the horizon.

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

[sunlightwoo]

maybe in another life

☀︎ pairing: soulmate!jeonghan x g.n reader x soulmate!wonwoo

☀︎ genre: soulmate au, best friends to lovers au, there is some hints of fluff, but there is like really heavy angst cause of warning major character death,,, but there is hints of a love triangle going on, and twinge of slow burn in terms of lovers to exes to also strangers to lovers

☀︎ wc: 7.1k

☀︎ plot: you think that it’s strange that your soulmate bond is based on the colors that you are able to see. the more that you’re with them, the more present the colors are said to be. however you notice that the color in your life drains more and more away your life and know that it only happens when someone is falling out of love with the other. could that be the reason why you stopped seeing color with him when you thought that you were soulmates? 

☀︎ a/n: hey guys!! i know i said that money talks was gonna be my last svt work but i decided to post this cause i was honestly interested in seeing what you guys would think in the seventeen version of this :) but the original version was posted on my birthday with my ults and you can read it right here if you want!!

[ gina is listening to : pinwheel by seventeen ]

“He still hasn’t picked you up yet?” 

Your head whipped over to look at Jihoon, your coworker that was finishing up wiping down the last of the tables of the restaurant and you gave him a small smile as you shook your head in response. It had been over an hour since your shift had ended, and usually on days that you’ve had a long shift like today, your boyfriend Jeonghan would have picked up since the busses would not be running that late at night. 

“It’s Saturday, he’s probably running a little late at the dance studio today with practice and stuff.” You whisper softly and continue to glance outside the window to see that the rain didn’t want to stop at the fast race it was pouring at.

It wasn’t the first time that your soulmate had been running late from picking you up at work, but you couldn’t blame him. He had been practicing a new choreography that he had been creating with his friends these days and you knew that he was a perfectionist, one that was willing to practice until all of his limbs fell off to make sure that he had gotten all of the moves down in one go. 

That was how you met him in the first place, since a mutual friend of yours had introduced you both to one another. It didn’t take long for you both to realize that you were each other’s soulmates until you noticed that your soulmate mark was color, since your life had always been monochrome until you spent more and more time with him. He was the one person that had brought the vibrant colors into your life, and you knew that you were soulmates. 

Even though he had often been busy at the dance studio that he was often found at, he always made time for you to go on the little, but meaningful, dates that you always treasured. You remember falling in love with Jeonghan slowly, but surely, as he had been nothing but caring and acting as though you were close to one another long before you had realized that you were soulmates. 

And you loved him. 

The sound of a car going off brought you back to reality as you notice the car headlights shining past the window and you recognize it to be Jeonghan’s car. After bidding your goodbyes to Jihoon and grabbing your stuff, you tried to outrun the rain that poured as you had gotten inside the car to see Jeonghan holding a bouquet of flowers in front of himself towards where you were looking at him with a surprised and curious expression. 

“What’s the occasion, Yoon?” You teased as you took the bouquet into your own hands, raising your eyebrows at him while he was already giving you a playful look on his face. 

“I can’t spoil you once in a while?” He playfully retorts and you jokingly shake your head in response, just as he lets out a quiet laugh and held your hands into his before gently kissing your knuckles, “I just wanted to get them for you, because I know we haven’t been spending, much time together even if we are under the same roof.”

He wasn’t wrong; these last few weeks have been more off than you had felt it where it was days like today that made you think about how distant you were with Jeonghan, compared to when you first started dating. You remember the vibrant colors that flew in when you first met him, remembering that the colors of the sky when it rained were gloomy, but still more colorful than you had imagined with monochrome, and since then you remember all of your colors being more and more full of love and illuminance.

“I love you, Jeonghan.” You say with a small smile on your face, hand still in his as he started to drive once again while you were on your way back home and the three words that were reciprocated from his own lips made you feel full of love. 

“I love you, too.”

Or it should’ve, as you weren’t sure what to think of it as you drove home in comfortable silence with your hand being held in his on the gear shift and your other holding the bouquet of flowers. However, what you didn’t notice until that night was that the starry sky looked a little dimmer as you looked out the car window, the moonlight that you had grown loving for its brightness became more dull than what you remembered seeing at night.

You were currently sitting on your couch with your phone in one of your hands, humming to yourself as the other was brushing through the soft locks of Jeonghan’s hair in your lap. The two of you had decided on a lazy day and were currently waiting for your takeout that you had earlier to arrive as today was one of the few weekends that both of your schedules had synched up for a date night at home, and you were excited for it. 

Despite the fact that you had thought about the idea of the color draining from the night weeks ago from the sky when you looked outside, all of the remaining colors of your life remained vibrant as you weren’t as worried as you thought it to be. You continue to go through your phone and hum when suddenly a giggle erupts from Jeonghan that you look at him confusedly for a moment, when his eyes locked onto yours in a split second as a small smile paints his face.

“Is there something on my face?” He muses and makes a weird expression that made him look too exaggerated to you as you playfully hit his chest in retaliation, shaking your head in response as you smiled back at him. 

But he had never giggled around you like that, not in a while and you were confused as to what might’ve initiated it now. 

“No, but I’m guessing one of your friends texted something funny to you that you giggled?” 

You watched as his face reddens for a moment at your words, and you were even more curious at what he might’ve been looking at on his phone that made you wonder what he might’ve been giggling about. However, it seems as though he might’ve caught onto your thoughts when he shakes his head in response and suddenly shows you a picture of who you recognized as some of his friends, Wonwoo and Mingyu from the stories that you’ve heard, messing around at the studio they danced at. 

“They’re just being dumb again,” He chuckles and sits up for a moment just as he mentions the both of their mere existences, “Reminds me, Wonwoo is actually coming over to give back the spare clothes that he borrowed the other day because he tore one of his other clothes the other day.”

For almost a split second you were nervous; you had never met any of Jeonghan’s friends except for Jihoon since you worked together, but in the three years that you had dated and been soulmates with him, you had never met all of his friends that he’s mentioned before. You were pretty sure that they knew of you, considering there were moments that he had come home playfully complaining about how they teased him about your existence, but you were also amused and confused at the very thought of never introducing you to his friends. 

Was he embarrassed of having you as his soulmate?

Just as you were about to speak up, the sound of the doorbell rings as you close your lips shut, watching Jeonghan leave from his spot on the couch to grab the front door as it leaves you with your thoughts once more. It drowned out the loud chatter that came from the duo that must’ve been at the door and the more that you had thought about him never introducing you to his friends, the more you wondered how much of your relationship was actually real considering the fact that these last few months, or almost an entire year, you had been having dates in your own home when you were able to have the time to.

“Prove it that your soulmate is real, Jeonghan.” You hear someone say at the door, and you could only assume that it must’ve been Wonwoo, when suddenly the view of the two entering your living room is present in your line of vision. 

You smile at the new individual that you had yet to introduce to and let out a small wave, when you notice how he had stood there with a nervous, but also an unknown expression on his face. On the other side of the spectrum stood Wonwoo with his mind suddenly in places that should not be in the areas that they were in. 

When he had first heard about his best friend having a soulmate of three years, he wasn’t sure if they were even real because even though they had been friends since high school, never had Wonwoo once seen a picture, or even met the said soulmate that Jeonghan speaks so highly of. However, now that he was standing in your living room seeing that you were real, he feels like he had been struck with cupid’s love arrow mixed in with all the possibilities of soulmates even existing. 

All because his mark of the red string was tied to your pinky finger, even though you were already someone else’s soulmate. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Wonwoo, I’ve heard a lot about you.” You softly say and he nods in response, just when he hands over the bag that was slung over his shoulder over to Jeonghan, before turning back towards where you both were standing.

“I’ve heard a lot about you too. Y/N, right?” He reiterates, making you nod in response and think about how you feel just a twinge of guilt from the fact that maybe you overthinking it all earlier and doubt Jeonghan shouldn’t have been there in the first place. 

“I shall take my leave, since I am assuming you guys are having a night to yourselves, but don’t let me stop you.” He chuckles awkwardly, turning to greet his friend goodbye and leaves out of your apartment before you could even let out a goodbye, however you thought that maybe you should get to know him more considering that both him and Jeonghan were well friends.

It was one of your goals that you plan on accomplishing and you could only hope that maybe you could understand why the color that was draining from your life was becoming more and more evident. 

“Hey, where are you heading out to?”

The sound of Jeonghan’s voice ringing out from behind you makes you turn around from where you were standing at the front door and you noticed how the colors that were in your vision were duller as his neon pink hair that you knew he had recently dyed became more monochrome. You didn’t want to jump to any more conclusions since the last time that you did had ended up where you both didn’t talk for almost a week and it was because you were scared of what was yet to come. 

“I’m just going to grab some lunch with Wonwoo. I thought you had to help Hoshi with the choreography today?” You ask as there was a small hum that escaped his lips when he closed the water bottle in his hand with its cap and you wondered why the small glance that he was giving you sent chills down your spine. 

“I was going to get ready, but you’re going to hang out with Wonwoo again?” He replies to your question, and you nod in response just as you stood your ground from where you were still standing at the door. 

For the past several weeks, you had been hanging out with Wonwoo on the days that you knew Jeonghan would be busy on your free days as you wanted to be friends with him, given the fact that he was Jeonghan’s best friend. However, with the price of somehow spending time with Wonwoo apparently had the cost of the other being more distant, as you found him staying at the dance studio longer than he usually would stay, even if it was later into the night. 

Along with the distance that was created between you and Jeonghan, the colors that you once adored while being with him continuously became duller and you knew what it was. You could tell that something was wrong with your soulmate bond with him, and you didn’t want to make the same conclusions that you made the last fight you both had, but who were you to judge when all the color in your life was slowly draining out?

The sound of a car horn brings you out of your stare down with Jeonghan and you watch as he disappears back into the kitchen without another word, leaving a small pang in your heart that left you unsettled just as you decided to walk out the front door. You notice how Wonwoo was giving you a small smile by the time that you had reached his car and mumbles for you to seatbelt just as he starts up the car again. 

From Wonwoo’s end, he knows that you were soulmates since he could never ignore the red string that was connecting his pinky to yours. However, he also feels guilty knowing that you were oblivious to that information, along with the fact that you were also somebody else’s, his best friend’s. He doesn’t know when he would ever confess to you that you were soulmates, because he knows that you would probably pick Jeonghan anyways because of how long you’ve been together as a fated pair. 

He never would’ve wished it upon himself to be the person to break a soulmate bond, even if it was for his own selfish needs. 

Until then, the red string felt like a burning reminder that he almost could’ve had a happy ending, if he had met you sooner. The thoughts of him constantly practicing how to tell you that your soulmates haunted him, as he could never find the right words to say them, which was why his first resort was to ignore and push you out of his life, if you weren’t so insistent on wanting to be friends in the first place. 

That was something that he had regretfully, but also selfishly took upon himself. He didn’t want to get close to you because he’s scared of the heartache that comes with being rejected by a soulmate. He knows that those heartaches are known to be deadly to people that yearned for a soulmate, like him, and there were ways for him to get rid of his bond before it was too late, but he also knew that it was unfair to both you and him if he were to sever the red string, being warned that he would never have a soulmate again if he cuts it. 

Which was why he chose the selfish way out and continued to get closer to you just as friends, knowing that you were Jeonghan’s soulmate and not his as the two of you were currently grabbing some lunch at a nearby burger and boba joint. 

The two of you had planned to come here for days, since the minute that you both heard that it opened closeby to where you worked. Despite the fact that it was raining outside again, you still made sure that today was the day that you got lunch together, because it was the only other time that you knew that you were free before you were swamped with life responsibilities once more.

“The boba is really good here, I think I have a new favorite place now,” You smiled as the cold cup in your hand filled your taste buds with a delicious sweet flavor from the drink in your hands, “You didn’t have to pay for today though. I’ll have to owe you for next time.” 

Wonwoo shakes his head at your words with a smile on his face just as he puts down the burger that was in his hands, taking a moment to finish chewing before he could speak again. If anybody were to look at you both from the way that you were unknowingly looking at the other, they might assume that the two of you were on a date, and you couldn’t help but think about Jeonghan again as there was a flash of a frown that appears on your face until you remember that you weren’t out with him right now. 

“It’s fine, Y/N. You don’t have to pay me back, today’s my treat, remember?” 

You do remember, as the last time you guys talked about grabbing lunch was the day that you and Jeonghan fought as he walked out the front door to cool off. That night you had called Wonwoo to see if the latter had arrived at his best friend’s apartment, in which he did, making you relieved as he had asked you for your side of the story when Jeonghan had fallen asleep in his guest room. You had fallen asleep to reassuring words from him that the two of you would figure it out in the meantime, but you couldn’t help but wonder why Wonwoo’s words left a warmer feeling in your chest more than usual knowing he still has yet to meet his soulmate.

Was it normal?

“Wonwoo, what’s your soulmate bond, if you don’t mind me asking?” You say while crossing your arms on top of the table, curious as to what the latter’s bond was because he had never once mentioned it in your presence whenever you two had met. 

“It’s the red string.” He replies, suddenly growing nervous at how you were already asking about his bond, unsure of how he was going to go at it now that he was caught off guard at your sudden question about it. 

“By any chance, do you know where they might be?” You ask, now even more curious about the possibility of him finding his soulmate pretty soon if he was connected to his soulmate by a string that is known to appear if they’re closeby, however Wonwoo knows that he shouldn’t bluntly say it. 

“I do know where they are, but I found out too late, because they already found their soulmate that isn’t me.” He grimaces, noticing how the sudden curiosity that was in your eyes reduces to now an expression that left questions in both your minds as the two of you now sat in complete silence.

And maybe the both of you realized something that you shouldn’t have known, because the rain outside that was downpouring became louder than the ringing that was in your ears from your pounding. 

Maybe this was a mistake.

You were now living in constant fear, but not for the reasons that you had thought it would be because of. It was another rainy day, but this time in mid-August as the colors of your life around you almost matched the grey and gloomy clouds that were storming above you. The sound of your heart constantly pounding in your chest was making you nervous every time that you woke up next to Jeonghan, unsure of whether or not the breaking point of your relationship will actually end. 

You couldn’t even remember when you had last exchanged I love yous.

Your stomach churns at the mere thought of an empty feeling that used to be so filled with love and care, but now all you could ever feel around Jeonghan was the constant worry of whether or not he still loved you. Did he even still love you, you think to yourself as the reasons why the colors draining from your vision erupted in your mind. 

They would only leave if one of you had lost the love for the other, but you didn’t want to think that Jeonghan didn’t love you anymore. You knew that he always loved everyone, platonically and romantically in your case, with his entire being to the point where he would always be willing to put their needs before his own. Could it be any different that he stopped loving you as the distance between you both grew deeper and farther?

The sound of the front door being opened and slammed shut makes you look away from where you were working on a new menu for the cafe, only to see an upset Jeonghan walk straight past you and into the kitchen as you were suddenly confused at the sudden act. 

“Is everything okay, Jeonghan?” You called out to him quietly and just as the words had left your lips, he reappeared from the kitchen with an exhausted look on his face before speaking up. 

“Can we seriously not do this tonight? I’m really not in the mood to argue or talk about it all.” He snaps and you felt taken aback from the sudden anger that was clearly evident in his words and at the tip of his tongue as you crossed your arms in front of him to stand your own ground.

“What’s your problem-”

“You, you’re my problem and I hate it.”

The three words that left his mouth leaves a heavy feeling into the atmosphere as the feeling of your heart grew heavier by the minute. There were definitely words that were waiting to be said as the two of you stared at the other, one with frustration in their eyes and tears filling the other. However, you weren’t sure what else to say, because you had never thought that you would suddenly hear him say that you were a problem to the burdens in his life. 

“What problem am I to you, then, if all I’ve been doing is try to save the dying relationship that we’ve been avoiding?” You press, already hearing the rising tone of your voice from the fact that you were growing hurt from what he was saying, unsure where all of his thoughts had come from but you were also almost sure of where it was going to go, and you wanted to wait for the right moment to ask him.

“Everyday when I wake up next to you, the colors from my life start to drain and I know that it’s the living guilt that I created for the both of us-”

“Then when did you stop loving me, Yoon Jeonghan?”

It’s silent again as his throat suddenly becomes dry at your question, his frustrated expression from earlier suddenly falling short as his eyes were now starting to avoid your pained ones. He knows he had started the fire this time around, not knowing how to deal with the almost monochrome vision that he had been experiencing the last few months, but he couldn’t let it go if he were to lie to you about when he had first stopped loving you, because that night was when he felt it that you also stopped loving him as well.

“The first downpour, when I gave you those flowers.”

Neither of you talked as you felt your heart pound even louder than it was earlier in your chest, but you weren’t even sure what else to say when you suddenly think of all of the fights that have piled up and climaxed to this exact point. The signs were all there, and you felt as though you were foolish enough to not realize that it wasn’t even healthy to stay knowing that there was something wrong in the first place when you first noticed the first wave of colors vanish. 

Rather than saying anything, you grabbed your phone from where it was sitting on the couch and put on your shoes before leaving past the front door with a slam behind you. Despite the fact that there was a heavy rain outside, you didn’t care as you felt like you were being suffocated if you were to stay in that room with him any longer, and you allowed for your legs to let you run to wherever they wanted you to take you to.

That place somehow ended up being Wonwoo’s apartment after running in the rain for almost half an hour. 

Your hand was raised to knock on the door, the thought of him possibly being busy past your mind as he opens the door with a confused look on his face, until he realizes that you were shivering drenched from head to toe. After dragging you inside, he takes it upon himself to grab some extra clothing and blankets so that you could dry off, but he was concerned at the way that you had stood in the middle of his living room with no words leaving your lips to explain why you had run in the pouring rain. 

“I think me and Jeonghan just broke our soulmate bond.”

With those words hanging in the atmosphere of Wonwoo’s living room, there was a broken sob that already slipped past your lips as your knees buckled from beneath you, making you kneel with your head low crying with your arms hugging yourself. You were definitely feeling the immense pain that came with the slight sever of your soulmate bond and you weren’t sure what was even worse, the fact that you might never have another soulmate again or the actual heartbreak itself.

“I-”

“Can I wash up in your bathroom, Wonwoo? I don’t want to get sick in your own home.” You mutter almost inaudibly, not wanting to talk about it with him when you notice how he nods just slightly, before handing you an extra towel and the spare clothes that he had earlier for you to wear.

By the time that you were alone in the bathroom with your thoughts in the shower, you could feel the tears from earlier still stream down your face, but there was nothing else except for a numbing pain that came with them as you washed up. You hated the feeling of the heartache that came along with the fact that the person you had thought was your soulmate wasn’t the person, and now you weren’t sure what else to do. 

It was when you finally dried yourself off and got dressed that the little bit of color that you once still had suddenly became monochrome and your heart sank into your stomach. A life that was once filled with color, that you were so used to in the past few years was now so easily gone as you were now greeted with the shades of blacks, whites and greys again, and you thought that maybe it was finally concluded that your relationship from fate was finished.

You walk out of the bathroom and head back to the living room to where you last saw Wonwoo, but it sounded as though he was in the middle of a call with someone, making you wonder who might’ve been calling since it was close to midnight. It wasn’t until you had gotten closer that he finished up the call and made eye contact with you, however there was a solemn look on his face that made you feel uneasy, since you had never once seen him in this scenario where he had looked like he was hit with bad news.

And it was.

“Hoshi called from the hospital,” He whispers quietly as you noticed that there were tears in his eyes this time around, his phone clutched tightly in his hand and you could feel a lump in your throat with newly fresh tears that were already threatening to leave your eyes once again. 

“Jeonghan passed away in a car accident.”

A little over a week passes by. 

You were currently collecting your thoughts and leaving the funeral home where Jeonghan’s funeral was being held, heart feeling heavy as you were slowly walking back to your car in silence. There were many things that you wanted to say to his family, ones that made you want to apologize a million times for not being enough for him, but you also have heard his side of the story from Hoshi the night that it all happened, because he was on the phone with Jeonghan seconds before the accident. 

There was something that made you feel sick as you sat in the passenger seat of your car, waiting for Wonwoo as you noticed something out of the corner of your eye; a speck of color. You weren’t sure how it could’ve gotten there as you were pretty convinced that the universe wouldn’t be able to give you another soulmate so soon, and why would they when you had lost touch of all color as soon as Jeonghan passed?

The sound of a car closing beside you makes you turn to see Wonwoo, who had the keys in his hand, in which he was already looking back at you with a curious, but also concerned look.

“Are you okay?”

Those three words felt heavy like a lump in your throat as you wondered whether or not you should answer it with the utmost sarcasm that you can spare, or the truth. In the last week of mourning, Wonwoo had always been the one to check up on you despite the fact that he had also been mourning in his own time, the loss of his best friend feeling unbearable, but he didn’t want to go through the pain alone. 

It was cruel of the universe to take him away from you, Wonwoo thinks as he remembers holding onto your shaking figure the day that Hoshi had broken the news to him and his heart aches at the memory of you looking helpless. He hated how much you were in pain for the last few days, where it was hard for him to get you to eat meals and sleep during proper hours when you weren’t crying, but he knew that you also felt bad for having him around; yet somehow he didn’t mind it. 

“I can see a bit of color today,” You whisper quietly, turning away to look out the window of the car and it stops, just in time as there was a slight hue of red that you were able to see from the traffic light that makes you not want to meet his eyes. 

Wonwoo’s heart was now pounding in his chest and there was a feeling of dryness that was suddenly in his throat, words caught up in it as he wasn’t sure where he could even step in to tell you what he had been dying to tell you the last few months. The red string on his finger felt like it was tightening by every second that he was with you, but he wasn’t sure how you would feel about it, especially after the events of today. 

However, it was you who had started to connect the dots, seeing as though the more that you have been spending time with him, the more hues of warmer and eventually cooler colors start to show up again in your vision. The only thing was that you knew about the various types of bonds, where the same person would not get the same bonds twice for different people, making you question what the actual bond might be. 

“Wonwoo, I want you to tell me the truth… Are you also my soulmate?”

The light turns green and Wonwoo drives again, this time the tension that was between you both growing heavy as you were waiting for his response, when all he wanted was to buy some more time. He didn’t want to tell you the truth now, not like this as you were regaining color into your sight again, but it was almost like when you had asked him that question, his pinky had burned from the string that made him almost flinch at the pain it had inflicted onto him, which was why he had pulled over to the side of the road so that you can talk, without any other distractions towards any of you. 

“Are you able to see where my red string ends?” He whispers to you quietly, in which you shake your head in response, wishing that you could in order to ease your stumbling thoughts, but there was nothing as he takes a couple moments to collect his thoughts and takes a deep breath to himself.

“I’m sorry for not telling you the truth when we first talked about it, Y/N.”

There was a small smile on your face, one that was on your face that expressed both pain and almost relief that his soulmate was nearby and that you weren’t going to be soulmate-less. You remember the one day that you had lunch with him when he mentioned who his soulmate was, but you didn’t think that it would be you, making your stomach churn at how guilty you felt knowing that you actually had two soulmates that existed right in front of your eyes. 

“Wonwoo, you don’t have to be sorry, it’s not your fault that all of this happened. If it was meant to be, then I guess everything leading up to now was meant to happen…” You breathed out, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes when he suddenly reached over to hold your own hands into his, “But I’m going to need some time to just let this sink in. I want to be sure that it’s you, okay?” 

He nods in response, feeling almost as if a weight had lifted off of his shoulders and there was the urge that he was holding back to just hold you into his arms right then and there in his arms. Time, he thinks to himself as he knew that it was also a big block as to whether or not your possible relationship could continue to blossom into something more, which was why when he had started the car back up and started driving again, he can only think of the best thinking to make sure that you two could keep going with what you had, and to him it was to bring laughter and teases to make you at least feel better for the time being.  

“Wonwoo, what if we did this-“

“We say that we’re soulmates right now and kiss.” He teases, making you look at him with an amused look but shake your head in response with your hand still in his as you wonder where the sudden burst of energy had come from despite the moment that you had earlier.

“Wonwoo, no-“

“We officially become soulmates eventually,” He jokes and watches how there is a glint of sparkle in your eyes that he hadn’t noticed present before when he glances over to look at you, but he doesn’t push it as he decides to just keep your distance temporarily, “You’re not saying no, love, you have to say something.”

You thought about it for a moment, thinking that maybe playing the long game with him wouldn’t be too bad as you knew that maybe this was a sign that could test to see if he was actually your soulmate. Colors may be one thing, but would you also eventually see the red rope that he has been seeing the past few years of dealing with it?

“How about we play the long game?” You propose, looking at him with a small smile as he raises an eyebrow at your words of waiting a bit with him, “We see how the next year or so goes, and if more color appears on my end, then we’re soulmates. If not, then we can just overthrow the universe and see what happens then.”

“So it’s not a rejection then?” He whispers hopefully, suddenly feeling nervous at the fact that you weren’t opposed to the idea of him being your soulmate and feels his heart pound louder in his chest as he watches you nod in response.

“I think I knew back then that I was connected to you at some point, Wonwoo, with or without the red string visible to my eye.” 

There was a shaky breath that left your lips as you finally felt a sudden weight lifted off your chest, seeing as though you were somehow finding your own way to move on from Jeonghan’s passing. It wasn’t ideal, considering it was by testing the waters to see if Wonwoo was actually your soulmate, or if it wasn’t real since you weren’t even sure of what was happening in the moment, but you knew something was there. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks almost teasingly, and there was a smile that coats your lips, one that you haven’t been able to express in the past few days but somehow with him it almost came naturally because of how calming his aura came to be around you. 

“Maybe during another downpour, we’ll see what happens.”

��Hey Y/N, thanks for letting me head out early it means a lot.” 

You look up from where you were currently cleaning up behind the counter of the glass case that was once filled with delicious sweets, giving Jihoon a small smile in response as you waved him off. 

“It’s not a problem, Jihoon. Besides, you better not be nervous because anybody who says no to marrying you will regret it.” You teased, watching the male stand at the closest table to the counter of your co-owned cafe blush a bit at your words. 

“Yeah but… it’s raining hard out there tonight. Will you be able to get home dry?” He asks in which you nod in response, just as another individual has entered right on cue like it was meant to happen. 

“He’s here to take me home, just go propose to your soulmate already.” You grinned, watching as Jihoon gives you a soft smile and leaves before he can get caught in the rain tonight. 

With an amused look on the latter’s face, your eyes met with Wonwoo’s, who had been standing against the counter that you were currently cleaning. There was an umbrella in his hand, along with a familiar jacket that you must’ve forgotten to take with you, but he brought it anyway because he knew that you would’ve gotten cold from the rain. 

“You could’ve gotten sick, you know. That wouldn’t be good on any of us.” He teases and you give him a playful look, not wanting to be bothered with the jacket when in a split second, you felt his arms wrap around your waist swiftly, chin on your shoulder as he was swaying both of your bodies side to side. 

Two years have passed since you remember talking about the effects of a downpour with him, the sight of it making you feel various emotions as you stared at the red string tied at the end of your pinky of your left hand that was almost parallel to the ring on your ring finger on your right. After opening up your new co-owned cafe with Jihoon months after you and Wonwoo decided to play the long game, the rush of colors came along with that new success as you knew that it was for all the times that you have spent with him.

Every downpour and daylight that led to the very moment made you feel grateful that you made the decision to play the long game, because the promise ring that came with the downpour the night you both kissed felt like sparks. You probably would never forget how realizing that he was your soulmate felt, because it was the same electricity and love that overwhelmed you like you had when you first found out about Jeonghan. 

“Okay, let’s go home you big baby.” You giggled, shaking your head at his playful banter and took the jacket from his hands over your shoulders, before grabbing your keys to lock up the cafe for the night. 

The two walk into the city with peace on your mind, the gentle downpour highlighted perfectly the illuminated city buildings that were around you both as you walked to your shared home together, and you wouldn’t want to have it either way. Whether it was a day with rain or sunshine, you knew that it couldn’t be too bad as long as you had someone with you with their hand in yours.

“Do you think he’s watching us, from up there?” Wonwoo suddenly mumbles softly, your hand in his as the sound of the soft drops of the rain hitting your umbrella resonates from on top of you guys and you hummed in response, nodding as you smiled and kissed his hand gently. 

“I think he’d be happy that his best friend is the one to save me from being soulmate-less for the rest of my life, instead of someone that I could be with that might hurt me.” 

“I don’t think I could ever want to intentionally hurt you, Y/N, or in any other life. You know that, right?” He says, joking slightly to relieve the small tension that was starting to rise, but you knew it was both of your worries that were talking and you couldn’t blame him. 

The tomorrow is unpredictable and you weren’t sure what could happen to any of you by then. 

“I know Wonwoo, and I know that you love me, like I love you.” You reply and suddenly you are pulled into his arms, hands cupping your cheeks as he places a soft kiss on your lips as you kiss him back and smile against his own. 

There were small bursts of giggles that came from you at the flustered feeling of him spontaneously kissing you, but the shimmer in his eyes said otherwise as you knew that even though the entire universe was held in them, they were only meant for you to see. A galaxy that was meant to be lost in, but somehow you knew right where you were as you were both standing underneath a shared umbrella on a night of downpour, but this time it was flushed with colors and vibrant illuminations that made you feel ignited especially with him. 

“I love you too, Y/N.”

[sir-crocodile-smile]

Can We Just Be Happy Now?

Hello everyone! Once again my brain has decided to write content no one asked for... Surprise! It’s a mini songfic (cringe is dead and I’m killing it) for none other than the big sweet mochi man himself, Charlotte Katakuri! The song is CWJBHN by Jake Scott & Josie Dunne. This one is mostly fluff, with a dash of hurt/comfort for flavor. Enjoy! (look at his eyelashes UGH he’s so pretty)

Katakuri x gender neutral reader

    “Not too much farther now,” you called over your shoulder to the Sweet Commander as you lead him through the forest and up the mountainside. Despite how easy it would be for the tall man to keep up with you, Katakuri hung a few steps back. Being close to you brought something soft out of him, something he desperately wanted to hide from his family. He never let his guard down in front of others, but there were moments where your bright eyes and easy smile made his breath catch in his throat. He couldn’t let himself get close to you.

    In fact, he shouldn’t even be here right now, trudging through the forest with you. He should have turned you down when you asked him to accompany you, he really should have. But you said you wanted to show him your favorite place in the world, a secret place you had never told anyone else about. The way your eyes sparkled, how you nibbled on your bottom lip as you waited patiently for his response…

    How can I say no when you look at me like that? 

    So here he was, following where you lead. He was tempted to take a peek into the future, just to make sure it was safe for both of you, but it felt wrong. This was your special place. He wasn’t going to invade it, even if it was just in his mind’s eye. You mattered too much to him for that. You mattered to him, and that was something he was afraid to even think of. Even the silence of a thought was too loud. 

    But my heart is begging my head not to get in the way.

    “Finally! We’re here,” you smiled triumphantly as Katakuri reached the plateau behind you. Carved into the mountainside was a shallow cave, shielded from the wind and rain by a few planks of wood sloppily nailed together. You moved the makeshift door aside. “I remember that door being a lot heavier when I was little. Guess I really have gotten stronger!” Inside was a pile of old blankets and a bed made of straw that started decomposing years ago. The walls had a child’s drawings on them, and there was even a tattered Jolly Roger plastered to the wall with glue that was probably as solid as cement by now. You sat down on a rock off to the side with a wistful smile, the cave being far too small for either one of you to fit inside. 

    “What… is this place?” Katakuri asked gently, trying to resist the temptation to look in the future for your answer. 

    “Home. Well, kind of. I grew up here,” you explained, eyes scanning over the cave with bittersweet nostalgia. “There used to be a village on this island, but I didn’t spend much time there. I lived here, for the most part.”

    “Alone?” He asked, eyebrows popping up in surprise. You nodded your head, eyes downcast.

    “I never had any family, and the townspeople… well, there was hardly enough food to go around already. No one wanted to pick up a stray.” These words hit him like a knife in his heart. Even when he was a child, he always had his brothers and sisters. He couldn’t even imagine a life without them, and didn’t want to. And to hear you call yourself a stray? That hurt him in ways he couldn’t describe.

    “I’m… I’m sorry,” was all he could manage to say, though he wished he could say so much more. But before he could think of anything else, you met his gaze with a wide smile. 

    “Don’t be, Katakuri!” You grinned before turning to gaze out across the little plateau. The sun had just dipped to touch the ocean, sending brilliant oranges and pinks streaking across the water. His piercing ruby eyes didn’t stray from you as you spoke. “I brought you here because I wanted to thank you.”

    “Thank me? Why?” 

    “Because… I know it’s you that keeps sneaking my favorite sweets into my room.” Katakuri felt his face grow red hot under his scarf. How… how did you know? He always used his future sight to make sure he wouldn’t get caught! But you didn’t stop there. “I know that you vouch for me to your siblings when I’m not around. You look out for me, and compliment my baking even though I know it’s not as good as you say!” His cheeks could not be any redder. All this time he thought he was being sly, thinking he could keep his affection secret, so that you would never know and no one could see his softness. He wanted to turn into a ball of mochi and tumble off the cliff, he was so mortified. You continued talking, though, so despite his embarrassment killing him, he stayed.

    “I grew up not knowing if anyone would ever care about me,” you explained as your voice grew a little shakier. You brought your knees to your chest. “So… thank you for caring about me. I care about you too.” Tears started to prick at the corners of your eyes, but you held your chin up as you watched the sun set. There was a vortex of feelings in your chest; your sadness from your childhood, your happiness from the way Katakuri cared for you, but most of all, how you loved him for it. You wanted to be so much more than friends.

    Walls were falling down all around his heart as Katakuri watched the sunlight dance on your face, in this moment where vulnerability had struck you both like lightning. Was there a chance… that you felt the same way about him that he felt about you? With every crumbling brick there was hope and fear rising in his chest. Could you even be together if you wanted it?  What about his image as the perfect commander? His responsibilities? Would it paint a target on your back to be with him? What if Mama didn’t allow it? Or worse, if she approves and it doesn’t work out? Would it even make sense for you to be with a monster like him? Would you love him until you saw what he hid under his scarf? What if he disgusted you? What if you hate him for hiding it? What if-

    His spiraling stopped the moment he saw a tear roll down your cheek. Suddenly his insecurities meant nothing to him, they evaporated in the face of his love for you. In a blink, he wrapped you up in his strong embrace, accidentally burying your face in his scarf.

    “I care about you, [y/n]. More than words can say. I thought I could hide it, but,” he whispered to you as he held you tight. “I should have known I couldn’t fool you.” You pushed yourself out of the fluff that was obscuring your vision with a sniffle. You looked up at Katakuri, his normally sharp eyes soft and warm as they stared at you. He lifted a gloved hand to wipe away what was left of a tear on your cheek, cradling your face like you were porcelain. 

    “Kata…?” you stammered, struggling to process what was happening.

    “You’ll never have to be alone again, my sweetheart,” he reassured, leaning down to press his forehead to yours in an intimate gesture that took your breath away. “I’ll be here for you, taking care of you, no matter what. If… if you’ll have me.” You gasped, then immediately threw your arms around his neck and buried your face in his scarf. You were laughing, crying, and telling him yes over and over and over again.

    When both of your heartbeats calmed, Katakuri lifted you effortlessly and sat you down in his lap. The warmth of his arms soaked into you as you both watched the last of the sunset dip into the ocean. For a moment, his insecurities bubbled up, but he quieted them with a glance down at you in his arms.

    Can I just be happy? Even if it doesn’t work out, even if it doesn’t make sense, or even if it all burns down one day, can I just be happy for now?

    Can we just be happy now?

[redeadepression]

Men, Not Books | John Marston x Abigail Roberts Marston

~~~~

Relationships: John Marston x Abigail Roberts Marston Characters: John Marston, Abigail Roberts Marston Words: 6037 Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Past Prostitution Warnings: Heavy angst, mentions of past child abuse

Summery: Abigail can read John like an open book. But on this particular night there is something in his eyes that she can't understand and it scares her.

~ Basically just an excuse to get all my feels about John being emotionally fragile but never showing it, out on paper. This story is separate to all of my other John/Abi works. I consider the characters in this story to probably be as close to canon as I've ever written. So enjoy!

The fact that John is so ‘expressive’ was inspired by this post and I would like to thank this post for bringing John’s erratic stride to my attention.

~~~~

Abigail Roberts could not read.

It was a well-known fact that was established early on in her time with the Van der Linde gang.

Letters and symbols bounced around the page in front of her eyes and no amount of tutelage had ever improved her grasp.

She had learned to live with it. Deciding that she didn’t need to know what the words said as long as she could look through the pictures.

The books that had pictures anyway.

She often borrowed books from Hosea. Flipping through them and spending ages staring at the pages despite not understanding them. It was a nice distraction from the goings on of the camp.

Abigail sighed languidly, leaning back against the wall atop her bed at Shady Belle. The jagged hole in the wall behind her snatching at the hair of her bun and causing her to growl in protest.

She placed the book she had been looking at on the bed beside her and twisted awkwardly to untangle herself from the broken wood. Sighing in exasperation as she removed the ribbon holding her hair in place and let it fall around her shoulders.

She raked her fingers through is carefully, trying to remove the knots without needing to get up and find a brush.

Jack was sleeping peacefully on the floor beside her and she’d prefer not to disturb him if she could help it.

She felt her ears prick as footsteps on the stairs caught her attention. Heavy boots that she knew belonged to one of the three men sleeping in the top story of the old house alongside her.

She knew it was John from the sound of his footsteps. Spurs jiggling as he stepped hard against the floor without care for anyone that might be sleeping below.

Dutch had a strong gait and Arthur was a bulky man that found it hard to be quiet. But no one else walked quite like John. The way he put his hips into his stride. Feet landing purposefully but barely picking up again as his heel scraped each stair with his step.

For a fleeting moment she thought about feigning sleep. Not really in the mood to speak with him and unable to put her finger on why.

She decided against it. Instead brushing out the crinkles in her nightshirt before pulling her hair back into a loose pony tail and waiting patiently for John’s heavy steps to make their way passed her. The old door creaking as he pushed it opened, stepping inside and catching her eye as she looked to him with disinterest.

He stared at her for a second, seeming shocked to find her there.

Abigail frowned at the look on his face. He should not have been surprised to find her in bed at this hour.

Something was wrong.

She opened her mouth to speak and was alarmed when he started to move towards her. Stepping carefully over Jack and settling himself on the edge of the bed in front of her.

He stared at the hem of her nightshirt, not making eye contact as Abigail pushed herself into her knees and inched towards him.

Frightened.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, concern in her tone at the look in his eyes.

He was silent. Her anxiety increasing exponentially with every second of silence.

John slowly reached out, taking her hand in his and resting them together in her lap without speaking. Abigail swallowed audibly, her frayed nerves screaming for him to talk.

“John?” She asked eventually, urgent. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He answered with a small shrug, exhaling shakily as he continued to stare at the loose threads on the hem of her shirt.

The furrow of Abigail’s brows deepened as she squeezed his hand tightly in hers and waited for him to say more. Her heartrate dropping slightly as she let go of her breath.

No one was dead at least.

She realised as she looked him up and down. John was a man of few words. He was straightforward when it came to giving bad news. Short and to the point. No dancing around the truth if he knew it to be absolutely correct.

Still, she was concerned.

It wasn’t like him to want to be this close to her. Usually, he could barely stand the sight of her. It was only recently that he had moved herself and Jack back into his living quarters and even then, they hardly said a word to one another.

“What’s wrong?” She asked again, softer. Her free hand coming up to tenderly push the messy hair out of his face. He didn’t flinch away as she expected him to. Her tender touch rousing something inside him as he leaned toward it with enthusiasm.

She let her hand fall to his forehead, subconsciously feeling for a fever as he rested against her palm.

Perhaps he wasn’t feeling well.

He wasn’t usually one to show his vulnerability if he could help it. But he did have a certain childish quality to him when he’d been struck down by sickness.  

He didn’t feel any warmer than normal.

Slowly she removed her touch and let her hand fall back to her lap. Surprised when John leant forwards. Resting his forehead on her shoulder and sighing deeply as he closed his eyes.

Abigail wasn’t sure what to do. He hadn’t embraced her in months. Not that she’d have let him if he’d tried. She was still pissed off about being treated like a burden.

“John?” She asked in quiet exasperation as he changed his position to nuzzle at her neck. “What is this?” She asked, tone gentle as he paused his ministrations and she felt him sigh deeply against her pulse point.

“I don’t know.” He whispered, his free hand slowly slipping around her waist as he inched closer once more. “I don’t know…” He repeated softly, eyelashes fluttering against her jawline as he inhaled sharply.

He let go of her hand suddenly and she felt it brush past her cheek before it joined his other hand, locking her into a hug just below her chest. He buried his face in her shoulder abruptly, eyes closed against the fabric.

John sniffed softly, a sound she had heard a thousand times before but never truly in this context. She licked her lips, tongue sucking silently on her teeth before she dared to glance to her side.

She couldn’t see much of John from her angle. A dirty mop of black hair obscured her vision. Hiding his face from her and rendering her useless at understanding what exactly was going through his mind.

Abigail may not be able to read literature, but she could read John like the back of her hand. He had always been an open book to her. Showing what he was thinking plainly on his face without ever having to speak. Keeping his emotions locked up deep inside despite the situation. Fearing if people found out that he felt things, he would be labelled weak.

But that had never stopped her from understanding. The way his eyes sparkled when he knew he was about to best someone or the way his lips quirked ever so lightly when he thought someone was being an idiot. A simple scrunch of the nose telling her his real feelings on the food he was consuming.

She could read his mood from across the camp if she had to. Knowing full well exactly how he was going to respond at any given moment by the different ways he cocked his brows.

But this was unique. Something was off and it scared her that she couldn’t read him immediately when he’d entered the room. The look in his eyes was close to fear. Hence her strong reaction to his silence.

She’d seen true fear in him once before. As he’d been searching for Jack at Clemen’s Point. He had told her he was sure it was fine. The panic in his eyes screaming to her that he didn’t believe that. The way his lips had been a thin line before he’d told her that they would find him. Eyes flicking ever so briefly out over the miles of lake they were camped next to.

The small swallow that he had thought he’d concealed. The way his Adam’s apple bobbed ever so slightly as he’d taken a moment to breathe.

The shake in his exhale.

She had known from the second she’d seen his face that he believed the boy was dead.

Drowned or taken by coyotes.

He had never needed to speak a word to strike such white-hot terror into her heart.

Abigail was brought back to reality abruptly as John’s hand curled in her shirt. His knuckles scraping lightly against the small of her back as he pulled the fabric taught. Unmoving otherwise and causing another thorn of worry to settle in the pit of her stomach.

It hadn’t been fear that she’d seen in his eyes. But something close to fear.

Perhaps sadness. She mused as she moved her hands to stroke lightly up and down his sides.

He shifted under her touch, breath hitching momentarily before he managed to return to a normal rhythm.

Abigail smiled to herself, knowing he could not see. She knew that sound well, although it had been a long time since she had heard it.

John always had some measure of sadness in his eyes. It was the first thing she’d noticed about him when they’d met. The way he looked at her, with wide, expressive eyes filled with sadness. He reminded her of a kicked pup.

At the time she’d found it endearing.

But she had soon learned where all that sadness had stemmed from. Mostly filled in by other camp members and a little from John himself after a few drinks. He’d had it rough, same as her. But he never could quite shake the sorrow that was tied to abusive childhood like she’d managed to. It followed him into adulthood and lorded over every happy moment of his life.

He never spoke of it. Never intentionally brought attention to the way he felt.

He had his feelings under lock and key. Not even the drink could fully open him up to his grief.

Abigail’s hands wandered slowly up his sides and around to his back. Petting him softly with delicate strokes up and down his spine and around his shoulder blades.

She felt him loosen under her touch. Not realising how ridged he had previously been as she felt him start to sink lower. Melting against her like a candy on a hot day.

“You okay?” She asked, deciding to try one more time to gently prod it out of him. She felt him shrug once more and she resigned herself to never knowing what had gotten into him. Leaning her head against his head perched on her shoulder, as she heard him whisper his response.

“Lodnhly.” He mumbled, barely a word as she frowned, trying to understand what he’d said.

“What?” She asked candidly, hands pausing as she felt him sigh heavily under them. This time speaking a little louder as he answered.

“Just… Lonely.” He said quietly, sounding strained by the admission.

“Oh…” Abigail breathed softly. Unsure what to do with the information she had so desperately wanted. John didn’t seem like the kind of man to feel lonesome. Despite his sad eyes he spent most of his time laughing by the fire with the other men in camp. Always heavy on the drink as he stumbled back to his bedroll at some ungodly hour.

She felt John begin to tense again in her arms and felt she needed to say something more. Opening her mouth to speak but closing it again after a while when she realised that for the first time in a long while, he had stumped her.

She’d truly had no idea what he’d been feeling and if she’d had to guess, she would have even put constipated several spaces above lonely.

John let go of her shirt abruptly, pulling away and breaking out of her arms with ease as he shuffled slightly away so they were completely separate once more. Head bowed as he shifted uncomfortably under her gaze and waited for her to speak.

He had never opened himself up to her like that in his life. Never opened up to anyone like that at all, and he knew that she was acutely aware of that fact.

He twisted his hands against the mattress, feeling shame bubbling up inside of him as Abigail continued to stay silent. He’d considered that she might not know what to say and he’d been prepared to reassure her that she didn’t need to say anything. Nothing she could say would make him feel better anyway.

But in the moment he felt sick at the thought of her not replying. Both sitting there in silence until one of them plucked up the courage to leave the situation. He needed her to speak. He was desperate for her to say something.

Anything.

His heart raced.

Just speak.

He silently begged her, heart in his throat.

“Why?” Abigail asked clumsily, making him exhale the breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding.

She watched nervously as he tensed at the question. Seeming to relax a little after a moment. His hands fisting in the bedsheets loosened while her own wrang nervously in her lap.

“I don’t know.” He answered dishonestly. Feeling a lump in his throat that impeded his ability to speak evenly. He had his reasons for the way he felt. But she would never understand them.

Abigail nodded, more to herself than John as he was not looking at her. His long hair still obscuring his face from his place in front of her.

She certainly knew what it was like to feel lonely in life. She felt it more often than not before she’d joined the gang. But since finding them it was few and far between. She still had her bad days, where she felt as though she didn’t fit in. Watching from across the camp as the other women giggled and gossiped. It irritated her to know she would never truly be one of them. She wasn’t a contributing member of the gang. Not in the same way they were. Sure she could cook, sew and occasionally she was asked to do the laundry. But she didn’t run cons or scout out for intel like they did. She wasn��t one of them. She was just John’s wife.

“Well…” Abigail said slowly, unsure if relating to John’s plight would help or hinder their conversation. “I know a thing or two about feeling that way.”

John sniffed softly, not saying anything as he slowly lifted his head to look at her for the first time since he had entered the room.

Abigail held back a gasp. Unable to stop the shock from registered on her face as her eyes flicked over his tear-stained cheeks. She hadn’t realised he’d been crying. For all the times she’d given him a once over and knew exactly what he was feeling, she couldn’t believe she’d been so slack as to miss something as significant as this when it was right in front of her.

She tore her eyes away from him, hand grabbing at the shoulder of her shirt as she pulled it taught and inspected the place where he’d laid his head. The fabric was damp and she was stunned by the realisation. He had been so silent. Showing emotion she had never seen in him right by her face without her even noticing.

She felt sick at the thought. Wondering now if perhaps she had seen him this vulnerable in the past and didn’t recognise it.

Arthur had once told her that John never cried.

Something she found hard to believe. Everyone cried. It was a fact of life. But as the years rolled on and her time with John stretched farther than any other significant relationship she’d ever had she had started to wonder if Arthur was right.

‘If he did, you would never know about it’.

Arthur had stated cryptically.

The words mulling over in Abigail’s mind for years to come. Every time she was sure this would be the moment John finally broke his stoic exterior she was once again proven wrong.

The words echoed in her mind now as she looked over the usually aloof man before her. The pain in his tired eyes spread bare for her to see.

Only her.

She realised as she inched towards him once more. Her hand finding his thigh and squeezing it gently as he collapsed against her rather suddenly. He laid against her chest, his shoulder resting just under her bosom. He rubbed his cheek against her breasts before burying his face in them. His arms crossing over his own chest as hers wrapped around his shoulders to hold him tight against her.

“John…” She whispered breathily. Burning behind her eyes making her blink rapidly as she struggled to hold back her own tears.

He didn’t respond, his uneven breathing the only sign that there was even anything wrong.

A disinterested onlooker would think him asleep in his wife’s embrace.

She supposed that is what he wanted.

“It’s alright…” She cooed, unable to form any other words as her mind raced around this new development.

How many times in the past had he silently wept without her knowledge? Even now, sharing the same room; they didn’t share a bed. John refused, letting her have the mattress while he broke his back on the hardwood floor.

She couldn’t tell if he was still crying. The silence in the room was deafening despite the people flittering through the halls downstairs and the lively party happening at the fire outside. Every now and then John would take a laboured breath and she would run a hand through his hair, stroking him as if she were calming an animal.

Abigail was always a mess when she cried. Loud, wracking sobs that tore at her throat and ripped her breath from her lungs. There wasn’t a hankie large enough to contain the fluids that ran down her face as she howled. Everyone knew when Abigail was crying. There wasn’t a sole within 50ft the didn’t feel her pain as well.

But John…

“Hey?” She asked quietly, her voice broken despite managing to compose herself against her own tears. “Hey?” She asked again, gently tugging at John’s hair until he finally pulled his face away from her chest and looked up at her with red rimmed eyes. “It’s okay.” She assured, cupping his cheek with her hand and using her thumb to swipe away fresh tears.

She leaned down slowly, giving him time to pull away if he wanted to before gently placing a chaste kiss on his cracked lips. He didn’t kiss back, feeling too overwhelmed to respond as she pulled away and smiled at him sadly.

She didn’t take it to heart. She hadn’t really intended anything but comfort with her kiss, but she also understood her own tendency to turn things sexual when she was uncomfortable. Kissing away pain instead of talking it out. Fucking to avoid an awkward conversation.

It was a short-coming of her own that she knew she needed to fix. He needed more from her right now than sex.

John stared at her with heavy lidded eyes. Blinking tiredly before settling himself back against her chest. This time just resting his cheek against her breast and staring at the wall in front of him as he tried to sort out what he was feeling.

“Fuck.” He whispered, voice croaky. He trembled slightly as he pushed himself away from her. Breaking out of her arms again and sitting up on his own once more. His hands finding his face as he rested it in his palms. “Fuck…” He exhaled shakily. Unable to form a coherent thought as the reality of exposing himself to her came crashing down on him.

He had needed the comfort.

Had needed to be held.

There was a large part of him that wished he was still being held. Not wanting to give up the warmth. The all-encompassing sense of calm he felt in her arms.

The safety.

But he had already shown too much of himself and right now he felt a suffocating need to run. To lock up whatever it was that he was feeling and get the fuck away from anyone that had seen him unmasked.

Abigail could sense his impending departure. Feeling it necessary to say something meaningful and assuring him that she didn’t judge him for his emotions.

“Anyway…” John said softly, swallowing hard as he pulled his face from his hands and wiped the tears from his chin with his palm. “I should…” He mumbled, trailing off as he gestured at his bedroll across the room.

“Stay.” Abigail said suddenly, her hand shooting out to hold him in place as he made to stand. He looked at her quizzically. Eyes flicking between her and his bed. His tongue swiped hesitantly over his dry lips as he thought. Weighing the options in front of him and landing at a decision with ease.

“Okay…” He said timidly. Averting his eyes and staring at their joined hands. Maybe just this once he could ignore the screaming in the back of his mind and let himself be soothed.

John wondered absently if she could read his mind. He never had understood how she managed to know just what he was thinking at any given time. Always ready with a counter to his argument or a consoling word on a subject he hadn’t even broached yet.

He was in awe of her ability to understand just what he needed. Irritated at the fact that mostly she ignored it. Knowing full well he wanted to be left alone but following him around regardless and nagging him to no end.

But comforted by the fact that she seemed to care enough to put in the effort of knowing him.

He could not really say the same of anyone else. His own Father had neglected him for years before the old bastard had gotten himself killed. The women at the orphanage he had been moved to shortly after that had been no kinder. Dismissive and noncommittal when it came to calming his anxieties. Lying to his face and repeating the same mantra of ‘You’ll find a family soon’.

After that he had been alone again. Escaping the orphanage and scavenging to survive. He had found out quickly what exactly happened to whiny little street kids that couldn’t hide their sorrows.

Abigail slid herself back against wall of the room, wincing at the feel of her ponytail catching on the broken wood once more. She ignored it, pulling John’s hand as she moved and encouraging him to join her. He followed without thinking about it. Too busy in his past to analyse what was happening in front of his eyes.

Abigail pulled her hair from the wall sharply, deciding it might be nicer to lie down. She slipped herself down and underneath the covers. Waiting for a long second before pulling him to her when she realised he wasn’t going to move on his own accord. His glazed over eyes told her he was stuck somewhere in the past and what he needed from her right now was silence so he could find his way back.

She moved the covers out of the way as he moved to lie against her side. One strong arm being slung over her belly as he nuzzled into her shoulder. She smiled sadly, holding out her arm so he could rest on it. His head fitting snuggly into the crook of her arm as she brushed her soft fingers against his wet cheek.

John remembered his first week with the gang vividly. He had been quietly terrified of these huge brawny men that had rescued him from certain death. Knowing too well at the age of 12 that sometimes people helped you not because they were good people but because you could be of use to them.

He had wondered what they wanted with a scrawny thing like himself. Too small and weak to fight and too big and pigheaded to be worth feeding if he could not be of real use.

Dutch had instilled in him early on that his place in the gang was conditional. He’d never said the words outright, but John had gotten the hint fast when he’s refused to do a ‘women’s chore’ and been very passively threatened with eviction.

‘Well son, I’m just not sure there’ll be enough food for you here if the men don’t have clean clothes by sundown. You may have to find other arrangements that better suit your leisurely lifestyle.’

The words had played over and over in his head for the last 15 years. Every time he found himself feeling that something was unfair. He had remembered those words and the way Dutch had spoken them. Something about that sentence not sitting right with him even now. The gentle reminder that he was expendable.

It Stung.

It had kept him quiet for almost as long as he could remember now. Even as a fully fledged adult that had earned his place in the gang by sheer effort and determination. Behind every compliment or kind word he could feel that lingering threat that if he did not continue to live up to Dutch’s standards he would be out before he could blink.

John inhaled sharply, feeling a sting in the corner of his eyes and closing them against it. He had been warned early on to hide his weakness. His little body sometimes unable to contain the big emotions that came from living in a word that didn’t want him.

He hadn’t needed to be told twice. Just the look in the eyes of the other men as he laid himself bare was enough to shut himself off from ever speaking about his misery again. Bessie had tried to console him but he had been too wary of her intensions to let her.

Terrified that she was just an agent of Dutch. Tasked with finding out his deepest concerns and reporting back to him with how and why John should be punished or evicted.

He regretted that a lot now. Knowing the kind of person she had turned out to be. So kind and full of affection.

He wished now, day in and day out that he had someone he could confide in. Someone that wouldn’t look at him with pity or contempt but the kind of compassion and understanding that Bessie had offered and he had shirked.

He had never pegged Abigail to be that person. Always assuming from her icy demeanour that she would be as cold as the other men. Disgusted even by his lack of self-control.

This wasn’t the first time he’d come to her, pleading for reassurance. But he doubted she knew that as she moved her hand softly from his cheek to drag her sharp nails over his scalp. Making him shiver.

He had tried a few times before. Most recently when they’d been settled at Horseshoe overlook. His insecurities niggling at him after seeing the fresh scars on his face for the first time. Anxiety nipping at the back of his mind until the gentle mumbles of self-doubt and loathing turned to angry shouting that he couldn’t ignore any longer.

He had gone to her in her lean-to. Sitting beside her without speaking and giving her a chance to ask since she alleged to know him so well.

She had not.

Arguing with him instead about his involvement with Jack. As if he needed another reminder of his dubious paternity at such a fragile time in his life.

He silently hoped that the kid wasn’t his anyway. It was the one kindness he could wish on the boy. To not grow up to be the spitting image of his own disgusting face.

He had felt such hatred for her in that moment. Either she didn’t know him as well as she claimed to or she did and she’d ignored his silent pleas for comfort.

He wasn’t sure what was worse.

He had silenced her with a rough kiss that quickly turned into heated touching. Their bodies closer than they had been in months. Arousal getting the best of them both as they rutted together urgently before Abigail had come to her senses and gently pushed him away. Staring into his expressive eyes for a long while before taking his hand and leading him away from all the prying eyes and making him feel better in the only way she really knew how.

The best sex John had ever had, lasting approximately two minutes and finishing as unceremoniously as it had begun in the scrub just shy of Pearson’s wagon.

They hadn’t spoken of it again. Straightening their clothes and parting ways with uneven breaths and ruffled hair.

He hadn’t tried to speak to her about his insecurities again after that. Feeling somewhat consoled by the fact that she’d still found him attractive enough to fuck.

Not that he was sure that meant too much in the grand scheme of things considering her past. She had spent a lot nights with a lot of men considerably uglier than John.

But it comforted him none the less.

John opened his eyes slowly, looking up to her and catching her eyeing him before she looked away quickly. Staring at the ceiling as she petted him distractedly.

“You can come to me you know?” She asked quietly, not looking away from the ceiling as she spoke. He wondered if that was because she felt the need to give him privacy in his response or because she couldn’t stand the sight of him.

He tensed his jaw as he thought. Gritting his teeth together tightly before finally responding.

“Hmm.” He hummed in a noncommittal way. His response able to be taken as either a yay or nay depending on the other person’s perspective.

“When you’re… lonely… I mean.” Abigail hesitated, still staring above her with neutral features.

John didn’t reply, knowing full well that she was wrong but unable to voice that in the moment. Afraid of losing his place by her side as he closed his eyes again and breathed in her sumptuous scent.

He hadn’t intended to come to her in the first place. Walking quickly away from the fire; his back against some playful ribbing from the other men. He couldn’t even remember what it had been about. The teasing hadn’t been what had bothered him anyway. It was the way that Arthur had looked at him when he had opened his mouth to speak that had tripped him up. Made him choke on his words and look like a fumbling idiot in front of the others before he exited the conversation in an effort save what was left of his dignity.

They used to be so damn close.

Closer to brothers than friends. A relationship John cherished above all others he had experienced in his life.

Until he had left and fucked it all up.

He’d known Arthur would be pissed off at him. But to be honest he’d never imagined that he would still be filled with such animosity toward him a whole two years later.

Arthur loathed him. Barely tolerated his presence for years now. It was only just recently that he felt maybe they were starting to reconcile.

But then the other man had looked to him with such disdain. A piercing glare that radiated revulsion that stemmed from his very core.

He’d never really regained his friendship with anyone in the gang and he’d struggled to get to know the newer members.

His saving grace was his relationship with Abigail but even that had been in tatters for longer than it had ever been good.

He was so isolated.

Alone.

In a living space that consisted of over twenty people. Most nights he felt as though he may as well be sitting at an empty fire pit by his lonesome.

Sipping turning in to swigging as he relied on alcohol to dull the pain and loosen his tongue. Making him funny. Turning the miserable cynic that he was into a desirable companion.

John had stared back at Arthur after he had spoken. The other men already beginning to chuckle at his expense while his brother simply smirked at the fractured look on his face. Content with the fact he had made John Marston look as stupid as he always liked to say he was.

It was such a small gesture. But the straw that broke the camel’s back was always light and airy.

John couldn’t take it anymore. His heart breaking as he walked away from the fire to find a place to hide.

He had assumed Abigail would be asleep due to the late hour. Planning to sneak in and out of their room without detection. Grabbing some whiskey from his private stash and taking it somewhere more secluded to reflect on why exactly he felt the way he did.

But he had been wrong. Walking straight in and making eye contact with her before he could retreat. She’d known something was wrong immediately, he could tell. So he’d swallowed his pride and taken the opportunity to try one last time to help her understand him fully. That one small part of himself that she didn’t already just know like she seemed to with all the rest of him.

He wasn’t sure exactly if he was successful or not. Perhaps her understanding and comfort was conditional as everything seemed to be in this world.

Maybe when they awoke in the morning, she would physically push him away as she had so many times before.

Or perhaps he was the one that would push her.

Embarrassment settling in and causing him to withdraw without a word before she awakened. Never speaking of his vulnerability again. At least until the next time unkind words seeped their way into his heart. Blackening it a little bit with every stab.

Abigail let her eyes flutter closed. Her hand falling to rest gently against John’s temple as she took a deep calming breath. He subconsciously followed her lead, his own breathing evening out as he matched her pace. Feeling the rise and fall of her belly under his arm.

He felt calm.

Peaceful.

He realised as he lamented the fact that it would end eventually.

Never one to enjoy a moment as it was happening. Always looking to the future and bemoaning the fact that it would end.

He’d missed her. He had realised it months ago. The bickering before Blackwater had been suffocating to not just the two of them but Jack and the other gang members as well.

But when he’d been up on that mountain, freezing half to death and in more pain than he’d imagined possible he’d longed for her. Wanting nothing more than to be rescued and returned to her arms but knowing deep down that even if he was rescued, he would be returned to the cold embrace of a lonely bed.

Maybe now things would be different.

He dared to hope. Squeezing her waist with a trembling hand as he nuzzled closer to her. Abigail returning the hug without contention.

“I love you.” John finally managed to speak. The words grinding against his throat as he fought to force them out.

Abigail startled as he spoke, turning to him and frowning in question as if she wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly.

Their noses rubbed together lightly as she looked into his eyes. A smile spreading across her gorgeous features as she read the look in his eyes.

“I love you too, you silly man.” She whispered, leaning in once more to kiss him softly. This time he kissed back, hand curling in her nightshirt as things began to get heated.

End.

 ~~~

I hope you guys liked this one! I would love to hear if you did. There's not many John/Abi shippers out there anymore so it's always amazing to hear from the people that take the time to read my works of them. ❤

[eclecticmiasma]

Loveless (Yandere!Giorno x Reader)

🌠Commissioned Fic!🌠

SFW

“We finally have the life we always dreamed of...yet you scorn me at every turn.”  

[Warnings: general yandere scariness, captivity]

Art credit:  荒巻ミカ on Pixiv

Another gilded trinket lays scattered across the floor. Thick silence hangs in the air like an asphyxiant, snuffing out all words before they even leave your throat. Your eyes pierce his own, defiant, enraged to be in this position once again. By now, he should have accepted that this will always be the outcome of his attempts to purchase your love and affection. But the nearly imperceptible signs of hurt that tug at his features tell you that he hasn’t.

All you had wanted was to speak with him. After months of swimming in deep depression, isolated and terrified, you finally worked up the courage to appeal to the kind young boy you know is walled deep inside of your captor. Everything about his appearance has changed, but the love and passion in his liquid blue eyes is the same. You were there when he first set foot in Italy, after all.

Not as Don Giorno Giovanna, but as Haruno.

When he saw you in the doorway of his study, he lit up like you hadn’t seen in years. He had dreamed of the day you would come to him of your own accord. He promptly ushered his guards from the fire-lit room and took your trembling hand in his own. It really was Haruno, you thought, as he smiled that familiar sheepish grin. The realization put you at ease.

“I…wanted to see you,” You lied, swallowing your fear. The warmth that radiated from Giorno was nearly palpable. His lithe arms pulled you into a gentle embrace, and for the first time you felt him relax. He buried his nose in your hair and squeezed you tight- almost like he was afraid to let go. You couldn’t bring yourself to hold him back, “…t-to talk to you.”

When he pulled away, he looked you up and down. He was positively beaming with pride.

“Anything you want, tesora, it’s yours.”

You bit your lip as he led you to a plush sofa next to the fireplace. Its warmth grounded you to reality. Giorno asked if you wanted something to drink, but you knew you couldn’t stomach even an ounce of liquid. Even water made you nauseous as of late.

Minutes passed before you found your voice. Giorno simply watched the shadows of your features dance in the light of the flames. He looked so sweet in that moment, so genuinely happy. Part of you wondered if you’d misunderstood him, that maybe he truly hadn’t meant to hurt you. Without thinking, you squeezed his hand with real affection.

“You…sent me another gift,” You started, pulling a rose gold locket from your dress. It was inlaid with tiny diamonds that spelled your name, and undeniably beautiful- but the sight of it made bile rise in your throat. It was the final straw. Before Giorno could respond, you turned his hand and pressed it against his palm, “I came here to give it back.”

His expression faded like ashes scattered by the wind. His brows knitted together as he slowly put the pieces together. You weren’t there to finally return his affection, you weren’t there to proclaim yourself as his own- you came to change his heart. A feat no one had ever achieved. His head nodded and a small, resigned smile appeared. It was like he hadn’t even heard you.

“I know it isn’t much, but think of it as a token of my love,” He replied, looking past your exasperated stare and holding the locket up to your neck. Something inside of you snapped and you yanked the glittering necklace from his fingertips.

“This is not love!” You shrieked, throwing the jewelry with all of your might. It broke and speckled the marbled floor.

And now you’re here. Sitting in the wake of your combined decisions. Drowning in the air around you. The fire, once comforting, feels like it’s burning you alive. Tears streak your face as despair sets in. When the silence is finally broken, you hear the crack in Giorno’s voice.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” He suddenly stands, stepping over the shards of jewelry to stand before the fireplace. His shadow looms over the entire study, “For years, I’ve done nothing but vie for your affection, but use everything within my power to protect you. We finally have the life we always dreamed of…Yet you scorn me at every turn.”

“The life we dreamed of?” Despite your trepidation, you find yourself moving to your feet, temper rising, “We used to dream of packing our little bags and building a giant tree house to live in, not this! You grew that tree in the alley behind my place that we would always sit in and pretend we were finally adults…that we were finally free-”

“We were children,” He interrupted, still refusing to face you, “We knew nothing.”

“Haruno knew that it’s wrong to take people as your prisoner. Haruno knew he didn’t want to follow in his parents’ footsteps,” Giorno finally whips around to face you, incredulous, but you continue your rant unabated, “Haruno hated people like you, Haruno would have understood that you abuse me and then buy my affection just like your father did to your mother. I refuse to be bought, Haruno-”

Blinding pain radiates up the left side of your face. It takes a second to register that you’ve been struck. Even Giorno stares at his open palm, shocked. You clutch your cheek and clench your teeth through fresh tears. He swallows hard, and his expression turns to stone.

“Haruno was a scared little boy that had no agency, beaten and broken into silence,” He takes a step forward, and you take a step back.

“Haruno didn’t understand that some people in this world are born evil, that nothing can ever fix them,” Your right leg catches the wooden coffee table and you tumble to the floor.

“Haruno had to grow up and learn that the only way you can protect that which you love is to hold on to it for dear life,” His voice raises to a fever pitch. Your arms rush to cover your face in anticipation of being struck once again.

But it never comes.

When the moment passes, you dare to peek through blurry eyes. The room around you is lush with greenery, an explosion of flowers and vines. A thick oak tree had grown where the sofa was, branches nearly reaching the ceiling. You lower your arms and gaze around the study in a mixture of wonder and fear. Giorno stands above your cowering form, back hunched, sobbing.

“Haruno is dead!” He shouts, collapsing at your feet. The tree breathes and stretches with life, puncturing holes in the roof above. Bits of dust and debris tumble down around you, but Giorno seems to not notice. You watch, entranced, as he cries.

“G-Giorno…” You mutter, afraid to reach out to him but resigned that you must. As much as he has hurt you, you just can’t bring yourself to run away.

Giorno remembers the last time he cried. Flashes of his own body impaled on the Colosseum gates, of blood dripping, of Narancia’s limp body as he lay it to rest on a bed of flowers- he remembers it well. It wrenches his heart, twists it so he can’t breathe. Nearly everyone who has ever been important to him has been ripped away by the cruelest of fates.

Except for you.

“I’m sorry,” He chokes, clutching himself tight. For some reason, fate has left you alone. Despite his immense love for you, your body continues to live and breathe just as he does. But you’ve made it abundantly clear that fate doesn’t have to intervene to remove you from his life. If something doesn’t change, he could lose you all the same, “I’m so sorry…”

You tentatively reach out and touch his shoulder. He shakes his head, but makes no move to stop you. Even as your other hand gently strokes his hair, fingertips gliding along his disheveled golden locks, you remain silent. As much as you want to comfort him, you won’t lie to him any longer. His apology remains unaccepted.

“If you’re sorry, if you truly love me like you say you do, you have to let me go…” Giorno’s tear-filled eyes meet yours. He looks terrified. A vision of Haruno weeping as you checked his face for bruises briefly replaces him. Your hands unconsciously slide to cup his reddened cheeks, just like back then, “I love you Giorno, I always have. But this has to be on my own terms. Don’t you see?”

The fear in his eyes dims slightly. His own hands cover yours. They’re larger than they used to be, and more calloused, but comforting all the same. He swallows hard and forces himself to smile softly.

“I understand,” He croaks, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. Relief flows through you as you release your breath. Perhaps Haruno truly is gone, and you’ll never reclaim the memories you have with him. But that doesn’t mean Giorno can’t change, that you can’t rebuild your relationship into something just as beautiful as you once had. For the first time in months, you feel a sliver of optimism.

As elation overtakes you, you throw your arms around Giorno, “I knew that I could reach you,” You smile into his neck, tears staining his shoulders. Hesitantly, he holds you back. The last time you touched him voluntarily was a distant memory. As his hand rubs circles into the small of your back, he can’t help but smile himself.

“I understand…” He assures you again, sighing against you. Some of the fauna that covers the room morphs back into furniture as his emotions settle. The burgeoning tree works its way back into a sofa. Giorno holds you tight against him, and for once you don’t mind. You hardly even notice the changes around you, content in your hope that one day Giorno will be himself again. You don’t even notice the thin vine that coils itself up your leg and around your waist.

Up your abdomen.

Over your ribs.

By the time you’re aware of it, it’s reducing your airflow by squeezing tight like a boa constrictor. Puzzled, you open your mouth to speak. Pink flower petals fall out from where your tongue once was. Giorno strokes your hair behind your ears, shushing the panicked noises that escape your throat.

“I understand.”

*all original work is my intellectual property. do not edit or re-upload.

[moevie]

This is what you get when I hear a song and it inspires me and I stay up way to late because I can’t get it out of my head until I finish the story in thought. 🤦🏻‍♀️ And it’s warm spring weather and I’m ready for spring break.

So here, have a short Drabble. All rules apply. Not my characters but my ideas. Hope you enjoy.

….............................................................................................

The first time Patrick had heard it, the melody had wafted in from another open window across the way. They had been working together in another difficult birth. Earth Angel giving the labouring mother a small boost of energy that it took to bring baby into the world. She sang the lyrics as she held baby close to her breast.

He has caught Sister Bernadette’s eye and she offered him a rare grin in return. It had struck Patrick then how blue her eyes were and he found himself grinning in return

The next time had been in the Parish hall. One of the nurses had turned on the wireless during clean up. Walking across the floor he watched the gaiety of their youth. Patrick hadn’t been watching where he was going and had almost knocked over the small nun.

“Oh! I’m sorry I wasn’t watching where I was going.” He held out his hands to help stabilize first Sister Bernadette, then the tray of equipment she had been carrying over to sanitize.

“Would you believe I wasn’t either?” Sister Bernadette had questioned. She gave a small smile and looked up at him.

“Will you be mine. My darling dear love you all the time.” The wireless sang.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He said softly after awhile. His hands bracing her arms.

“Quite.” She had said, but didn’t move.

“I’m just a fool, a fool in love with you.” Continued to croon the wireless.

The spell of the moment suddenly over when the laughter of the other nurses reached them. The two broke apart awkwardly. Sister Bernadette blushing as the couple quickly looked at where the laughter was coming from. The nurses had got carried away and were all on the floor laughing. Realizing that the nurses laughter had nothing to do with them and nobody had noticed the exchange between Doctor and Nurse, they looked back at each other before getting back to cleaning.

“The Vision of your loveliness.” Patrick had caught himself singing along to the wireless in their living room. Timothy had turned it on while working on his homework.

“Dad? Will you post this letter to Sister Bernadette? She’s been writing back to me.”

“Earth Angel, please be mine. Love you forever and ever more....” sang the singers

“She has?”

It was one of the happiest days of his life. Hand in hand with the woman he loved. The notes of the music wafted up to him once again. They were on their way out, to start their honeymoon.

“My darling dear, love you for all time.” With the music he stopped them in the doorway, stooped down and kissed her to the cheer of their family and friends. Patrick winked at the crowd and pulled Shelagh out the door.

All this runs through Patrick’s head as the first strains of Earth Angel can be heard on their wireless. Shelagh is tucked into the sofa sewing for one of their children. He had been reading the paper. It was an old song at this point and he didn’t know why the station would still be playing it, but it didn’t matter. Patrick stood up.

“May I have this dance?” Patrick asked as he held out his and to his wife.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Shelagh said as she took his offered hand and started to sway with him.

[yeochikin]

what is music to you? | k. hongjoong

a/n: when i’m telling you that i’m almost crying as i work this fic, i’m really almost crying. this is one of the softest fics i ever worked on dfjhd also hehe this was requested by @closer-stars, love u bb. dont scream at me later hehe mwaH 😘✨💖

word count: 2.1k!

main focus: hongjoong x fem. reader

warning(s): do ignore any inaccuracies if there are any, and please forgive me for any mistakes in this as this has not been proofread!

“joong?” your soft voice called out into the studio room as your head peeked into the room.

further into the room, sat a blue haired boy, almost resembling a blueberry, on the couch situated in the middle of the room. his back was hunched over the coffee table in front of him as your ears could pick up the faint sounds of the tip of a pen scratching against a paper’s surface in a hasty manner along with his low mumbles and humming. no doubt he is either jotting down a newly found lyric that popped into his mind while working on the many buttons and instruments of his many equipment that were provided for him. or, he was merely polishing some of the lyrics he was satisfied with. 

either way, he was clearly in his own world once again. 

a low chortle rumbled out of your lips at the sight of the ever so busy man in front of you who had failed to recognise your presence in the room. but then again, you are just literally standing with your head peeking into the room instead of actually walking in. and walked in was what you did, gently closing the door behind you. upon walking further into the room, your eyes caught sight of the earphones plugged into his ears before your lips parted into a small ‘o’ out of realisation. it was no wonder he seemed so engrossed in his work. 

placing the boxed lunch you had made for him earlier during the day, it had seemed that the sudden placement was what made hongjoong halt his writing, half lidded eyes staring at the food then finally widening once he dragged his tired eyes away from it, wondering who suddenly came into the room. pulling his earphones out of his ears, the corner of hongjoong’s lips stretched out into a wide beam as he got up on his feet, bounding his way over you with his arms outstretched to pull you into a tight embrace. you couldn’t help but to release the light chuckle at his realisation, encircling your own arms around his torso. your eyes closed momentarily as soon as the scent of his cologne that made you intoxicated every single time wafted into your nose, a sigh of contentedness leaving both of your lips. 

“when did you get here?” you heard your blue haired lover ask you, though his voice a little muffled with how he buried his face against your hair, feeling him relax in your hold as your fingers ran up and down along his back out of habit. 

“mm, only a few minutes ago. though i called you earlier, but i guess you didn’t hear me the first time.” you replied, pulling away just enough for the two of you to examine each other’s faces.

hongjoong simply gave you a sheepish smile of his, a clear act of his as if silently saying that he didn’t mean to do so. of course, you had to understand. this is what he loved doing, the one thing that managed to ignite the burning flame of passion inside of him. of course, at times, you had to remind him that it was okay to take it easy at times. too much passion in you could only make you burn out so easily later on. 

“i’m sorry, my muse. but i just stumbled upon a new song today and i couldn’t help but to feel inspired by it.” your lover said, gently holding your hand into his as if it was the most fragile thing in the world, then guided you to sit down on the couch where he was previously sitting on. 

settling yourself down next to him, you watched hongjoong’s hands swiftly reached out for his notebook in front of him and opened up the page where his pen was idly sitting on, fingers itching to reach out for the object and continue his work in the first place. motioning for you to come take a closer look, the both of you looked down on the open notebook to hear what your lover had already come up with his brilliant mind. shoulder leaning against shoulder, you listened to every word that hongjoong uttered with intent eyes, even to the point of listening to him sing a certain verse to show you what he meant with a certain tone. 

sometimes, the question of how the both of you ended up together would linger in your minds. you two seemed so different. two people with different background stories and lives. but at the end of the day of wondering such a question, the both of you had your answer almost every time of asking said question.

music was the one thing that kept the both of you close.

to you, music was the one thing in your life that made your body to express itself in such a vague yet at the same time, filled with millions of words in them. the way music would fill itself in a dance studio you had for yourself for a day, or even in your own living room of your shared apartment, you let your body and mind lose itself to the beat of the song playing in your ears. from a joyful and upbeat songs playing in your playlist to the unspoken and filled with hidden meanings behind the lyrics was all expressed by the way you let music take its place in controlling you. you would be too deep in your emotions to even notice the tears that would cascade down your cheeks, visioning yourself in every second a beat would be played out. you resonate when you hear music, every bone in your body would be filled with excitement when the right frequency is struck. your skin would feel a burning tingle of wanting to move to the beat.

to you, music is also the one thing that keeps the bond between you and hongjoong close, having no signs of snapping anytime soon, or even later in the future. it was the way hongjoong’s hands on your frame as he took you in his arms while the both of you moved along the beat of a song, no matter what sort of song it was blaring through the speakers of a dance studio or your home speaker. and with such familiar music that played out from his group, the way he would openly teach you the choreography would make his chest swell with happiness and pride at how willing you were to learn their dances. 

now, to hongjoong, he would answer the same. however, his own perspective would sound completely different from your own, yet at the same time, still similar. 

to hongjoong, music was the one thing to make him express the words he couldn’t fully express and show towards his loved ones, especially to you. hongjoong believes that music is a type of voice that could speak to people in such different ways, and that it could help him express in a way he didn’t know would even exist. every time he spent his time listening to a song playing through his earphones, he felt as if his body was being carried out by the instrumentals while the words being expressed were enough to ignite the fire of inspiration in him to immediately get up on his feet to produce his very own song, whether it was a cover in his own style or his mixtape where the closest ones were able to have a privilege of the only ones being able to listen to it. 

to hongjoong, music was the one thing that kept the both of you filled with inspiration. it was the way the both of you would sit next to each other as you helped him in writing a song that made him feel that he was filled with so much love, being surrounded by the passion he grew to love from a young age with the person who has the same view of what music truly meant to them in their lives. the way you would even take the extra mile in staying up with him in order to help him whenever he was facing a creator’s block from time to time by suggesting your own words, would make his eyes filled with adoration at the passionate ton laced in your voice as you spoke while you pointed out whether an instrumental sounded off or the lyric behind it would mean something else. 

simply put, music was the one tying the both of you down in a relationship filled with inspiration and creativity, whether it was a song filling the room from your speakers or a simple dance routine being taught by one another, music was just as important as love in your relationship that you two shared. 

“y/n?” hongjoong’s voice managed to make you snap back into reality, immediately looking up at his face to let him know that he has you in full attention as you sat straight in your seat.

“do you want to listen to the piece that i’ve been working on lately?” he asked, a shy simper playing over his lips.

your eyes widened ever so slightly. no matter how many times he had asked if you wanted to listen to a snippet of his creations, it never fails to make you feel a little flattered that you would be the first one to have a listen to it. hongjoong, once he saw your reaction, laughed lightly and motioned you to give him a little moment to get up from his place then walked over to his computer. 

it was quiet for a bit, save for the few clicks, though it wasn’t anything uncomfortable. the silence the both of you shared during these certain moments were always filled with comfort instead. while he was busy, you distracted yourself by looking around the room, noting how there were a few crumpled up papers in his mini dustbin just next to his worktable until you heard footsteps coming up to where you were sitting. 

suddenly, you heard it. the beat of the song he was so busy working on the past few days played in your ears. you let your shoulders slump in relaxation once the gentle notes of a piano mixed in with a violin dance in your ears, your fingers tapping against your knee to the beat. 

an outstretched hand made its way into your line of vision, making you look up at the blue haired boy in question. his lips twitched up as his eyebrow quirked up, silently asking you to take his hand. without even objecting to his request, you took the offer and stood up from your seat. a soft gasp was emitted from your lips when you were pulled against hongjoong almost instantly. the both of you stared into each other’s eyes, both filled with the familiar adoration and fondness swirling in your irises before hongjoong lifted his hand that was not holding yours, to lightly graze his knuckles against the side of your face, you responding almost immediately to his touch by leaning against his hand. you reached your other hand to rest itself on his shoulder, now starting to sway side by side to the song playing in the background subconsciously. 

though there wasn’t any voice singing along to the song, it was enough to let the both of you succumb into your own little world. nothing mattered at the moment, all you could focus on was each other. as the music seemed to pick up, hongjoong moved back ever so slightly and twirled you around, watching as the way your eyes twinkled with such giddiness in them along with the gentle titter you let out that reminded of him during the time when he first shared this moment with you a couple of years ago. 

the song was nearing its end, and the both of you found yourselves just absentmindedly swaying to the last few beats, hongjoong leaning in to rest his forehead against your own. your eyes fluttered shut, and a small beam played over the both of your lips. you could feel his arm tugging you close against his chest as he called out your name softly, voice barely above a whisper. you merely hummed in response.

“thank you for being the source of my inspiration, my muse.” 

and with those words said, his hand that was on your waist reached up to lightly tip your face up to meet with his by gingerly grabbing onto your chin with his thumb and index finger. slowly leaning in, hongjoong whispered those three words against your lips, finally pressing a kiss on your lips. you reached a hand up to rest itself on top of his nape as you moved your lips together as if it was a dance that only the two of you could share.

music was different in how the both of you would resonate with it. but no matter how different it was, the both of you knew that it would never cease to bring the both of you close.

[baby-grayson]

Sweet Enigma: Part 1

The year is 2023.

The date is January 1, 2023.

Kathleen Walker is sitting at her desk, in her lab. She is biting the nail of her right thumb while scrolling through a massive spreadsheet of data with her left hand. Above her, fifty-year-old fluorescent lights beam down with a gentle hum. She is alone, working through the New Year’s holiday to wrap up a project that will eventually change her career.

Behind her, mounted in the corner of the room, is a small box TV—maybe 13 inches wide at maximum. That TV was usually reserved for either mundane things, like the weather report, or extremely special occasions, like presidential inaugurations. On that night, Kate had flipped it to a random channel, E!News, providing her some comforting background noise in the dark and eerie laboratory. She grunts softly to herself, feeling as though she is thinking in circles.

The black of night had just fallen on the skyline of LA. Outside her small window, Kate could hear the consistent drumming of rain beating against the pavement. Kate despised the amount of rain LA got in the winter; it was a meek imitation of the wonderful snowfall in her beloved Philadelphia. The pouring rain only adds to her negative feelings about working through the night.

Her bad mood only worsened when the next E!News segment came on. Usually, when something crossed her path about Grayson Dolan, Kate was quick to change the channel or shut off her phone. Not because she harbored negative feelings towards Grayson, but because it wasn’t fair to hear about the life of her ex-boyfriend from third-party news sources, without an avenue to ask him herself or tell him about her new life. When the Dolan Twins would get themselves involved in the rare scandal or controversy, Kate would silently support them, remembering in her heart that they were good people.

And that’s all Grayson Dolan was, a memory. The kind of memory that Kate sometimes wondered if she was glamorizing in her mind, or if Grayson was truly as dreamy as she remembered him.

But Kate’s frustrations only grew when the peppy host on E!News started her latest segment from the small box TV.  

“It has been two weeks since Grayson Dolan announced his engagement to fitness designer and model Sherry Maddox—”  this is usually when Kate would roughly grab the remote and change the channel before any of the report’s words traveled to her brain. However, this time Kate slowly spun in her desk chair to see what Grayson’s new fiancé looked like.

Kate is greeted with the image of curvy, busty, blonde who looks something like a cross between Marilyn Monroe and a Disney Princess. She had bouncy blonde curls and a beauty mark on her upper lip. The TV showed a clip of her hanging onto Grayson’s arm at some event. Kate is struck by Grayson’s image: he really is as every bit of gorgeous as she remembered him. 

Kate brusquely turned around—disinterested, a bit bitter, and ready to get back to her work. She quickly grabbed the remote and muted the TV after hearing the words, “Grayson Dolan is scheduled to celebrate his new engagement to fitness designer and model Sherry Maddox tonight. The pair are reported to be planning their wedding in Califor—” Kate stopped the sound before the reporter could continue.

Kate took a deep breath before returning to her computer. She tried to get back to work. She sincerely tried to grab her calculator and punch in some numbers. Her own brain betrayed her. She dropped the calculator on the surface of her desk and sighed. She huffed and puffed, unsatisfied with her own performance that night.

Her head lifted when she heard a drumming noise coming from the hallway. She thought she was the only person working late on New Years’ day.

Before she can stand from her chair to investigate, a man barrels through the door. She freezes in fear, suddenly acutely aware of the dangers that working alone harbors. In an instant, her pulse quickens to a dangerous rhythm. If she were calm, she would grab her work phone and quickly dial campus police. She is too frozen in fear to move. But her fear fades into awe as she recognizes the sharp jawline of his face and the gold flecks in his eyes—he looked as if he was pulled straight out of her memories from Summer 2020.

Grayson’s eyes hold a veil of panic as he stares back at Kate. He lost his breath for a moment.

This gives Kate the opportunity to peer down and see Grayson dressed in button down shirt and printed, velvet suit pants. A much more formal outfit than anything she had ever seen him in.

Grayson’s mind finds an air bubble of clarity as he drowns in Kate’s big brown eyes, plush round mouth, and the wisps of hair escaping from her ponytail to frame her face. “I’m sorry,” his voice sounded as frantic as that moment felt, “I didn’t know what to do, “He ran his fingers through his hair, clearly disturbing his hair sprayed droop. He took in a hard breath and licked his lips, “I don’t know what I’m doing. But I know what I’m doing,” he nodded softly with wide eyes, “I needed to see you. Now. With everything that’s happening. I needed to see you. To see you like here to like in person. Sherry’s been going crazy since…well she flew her sister Coral out for tonight and was mad when I gave my mom the guest room and not Coral, even though she’s pregnant,  and my mom kept complaining that our colors were dark for an engagement party and we needed more flowers but Sherry doesn’t like any of the florists in LA and Ethan kept telling me to hold it together this is just the energy of the moment but it’s not the energy of the moment it’s the energy of everyday and this is going to be the everyday for the rest of my life and I—well I—” Grayson was breathing as if he had just run a marathon.

“Gray—son” Kate finished, not being comfortable using his nickname when he was basically a stranger. “What are you doing here?” Grayson inhaled deeply and looked down at her. He met her eyes. His gaze lost its wild veil for a moment as he said surely, “Two and a half years ago, I said goodbye to you because I knew I wasn’t ready for the kind of love you brought into my life. Well today, I’m ready for that kind of love but I’m engaged to someone who reminds that I will never get back everything I lost when I gave you up.”

“What are you talking about?” Kate gaped, looking from Grayson’s shoes and back to his face, as if she could find the answer on his body. Grayson took in a few ragged breaths while she folded her face in confusion. A million questions ran through Kate’s mind in that moment, but the one that made its way to her lips was “How did you even find me?”

Grayson licked his lips, which were dry from hoarding hot breaths “The school was closer than your apartment,” he strategically avoiding noting that his memories placed Kate’s apartment on the more hostile side of LA, “Google gave me your office number,” he exhaled and held his palms out, “I just hoped you were here.”

“What would you have done if I wasn’t?” Kate’s brown eyes looked up wide, her voice was low and grounded.

Grayson closed his mouth into a tight line, “I—I don’t know.”

Kate had a valid question. If Grayson hadn’t found her working late on New Year’s Day, would he have returned to his engagement part, and his life with Sherry? Truthfully, he really didn’t know the answer. In choosing to escape from his ensnared life, he let his heart make decisions over his mind. His heart didn’t think things through, it only sought out the last person to make him truly happy: Kate.

Kate broke their silence first. “What do you want to do now?”

“I don’t know.” Grayson’s voice was more breath than sound.

Kate’s eyes locked on Grayson’s, for the first time in two and a half years they shared each other’s gaze. Kate’s heart dove into her body, suddenly remembering the feeling of Grayson’s fingertips tracing her naked skin on Sunday mornings, his lips finding comfort on hers for the first time in his van, and the vision of the sunlight dancing off of his bone structure in the early morning on the beach. The emotional unrest of the moment took hold in her mind. No matter where he had been, Grayson was once the other half of her heart: he was clearly hurting, and she wanted to fix it.

Kate stood up and abruptly started shoving her computer and things into her backpack, “Where are you parked?” She held a sense of urgency in her voice.

Grayson shook his head quickly, “I ran.” Kate stopped packing to look up at him, bewildered, “You ran?”

Grayson nodded, “Yeah I ran,” he passed a hand from his forehead to his hair. It was then that Kate noticed the his damp hair, and the drops of water falling from the collar of his button down shirt. Kate wanted to ask how far he had come but decided that his disshelved look was enough of an answer. She opened her desk drawer to grab her keys and told him, “We’ll take my car” Grayson’s eyes held a sort of innocent uncertainty, “Where are we going?”

Kate looked at the ground, her backpack slung around one shoulder and her keys in her palm. She sucked her lips in quickly, and exhaled. That was a great question, where were they going?  Where would they go? Where do an exhausted PhD student and her wayward, engaged, famous ex-boyfriend belong?

They stood there for a moment, in silence and contemplating what the best next move was. Across town, Grayson’s family and fiancé would tell him that the best place for him would be at his extravagant engagement party; Grayson’s heart knew that any place was better than that party. Kate’s senses told her to drop him off at home; but something about being with Grayson lit a fire deep in her. They stood there: shells of two people who were once in love but had been worn and changed by the courses of the individual lives.

Kate looked up at Grayson. He looked so much like what she remembered but decorated in the strokes of a forlorn man: messy hair frizzing at the edges, a heaving chest, wide eyes, swollen lips. Kate gulped hard, recognizing that the last time she had seen Grayson like this, was the last time she had seen Grayson at all.

Grayson sucked in a breath, wondering if he had brought Kate back to reality. He rocked on his heels subtly, wondering if he was testing her kindness by asking her to give comfort to his aching heart. At that moment, his brain realized that Kate might not have even known about his engagement. He closed his eyes quickly, becoming acutely aware of how much he was expecting out of her when, in the current moment, she was only a kind stranger.

Kate exhaled when Grayson closed his eyes. The tension of her heart strings wanted to tether him to her, until he looked like a capable man again. “My place” she announced, “We’ll go to my place.”

The car ride to Kate’s apartment was eerily silent. Kate’s mind was as full of questions for Grayson as Grayson’s was with questions for Kate. What had happened after they broke up? Had they both been okay? What did okay mean anymore? Did you think about me after we ended things? Do you still think about me now? The answer to that last one was obvious to Kate, Grayson had to still be grasping onto some piece of them to come to her on the night of his engagement party, professing his love for the woman he hadn’t seen in years.

The rain pounded on Kate’s windshield, filling the car with a consistent drumming noise. The sound of the rain highlighted the lack of sound coming from the pair.

Kate still lived in the same apartment she had when she first moved to LA. Grayson noticed how much homier it seemed then, two and a half years later. Kate’s space was still filled with IKEA furniture, but it had been decorated in throw blankets, house plants, and polaroids with her new friends. It was having been a cozy apartment, had it not been filled with the memories of the tainted spaces from that faithful summer.

When they approached her front door, Grayson was caught by the memory of standing on the other side of the door while Kate was stranded in her own bathroom. When Kate inserted her key and turned the deadbolt, Grayson was washed by the sensation of kissing Kate the first night he apologized to her, feeling her towel slip off and hit the ground as they moved toward her bed. When he stepped in the doorway, he was hit by the feelings crawling out of Kate’s apartment after ruining their morning by placing terms and conditions on their relationship.

Kate moved forward, unaware of the conglomeration of thoughts and emotions bombarding Grayson’s brain. She dropped her backpack under the table, laid a hand on its surface and leaned on it. Her mouth went dry when she tried to speak, “Do you want a change of clothes? Or something?” Grayson looked down at himself, now suddenly aware of the wet mess he looked like. His black velvet pants were soaked and ruined, and his shirt was so wet that it clung to his body like a wet shirt at the beach. Any other day, Grayson would have been slightly proud of the bulge of his muscles under the thin fabric. Today, it made him look like the kind of mess he felt. He opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by the sound of a key turning in the front door. Grayson looked confused. He turned to Kate, wondering if she had gotten a roommate in the time since he had last visited.

Kate’s head whipped around to face the front door; her eyes went wide. The person on the other side of the door fumbled with their key in the lock.

“Shit,” she muttered.

“What is—” Grayson didn’t finish his question because Kate grabbed his arm and quickly ushered him into the bathroom. She shoved him threw the bathroom door and sent him hurdling toward the back wall.

“Just—just wait here,” she took in harsh breaths and closed the door on him, trapping him in the bathroom.

Frantically, she tried to position herself in a way that looked as close to normal—as if that night was anything normal. She leaned against her dining room table, laying a gentle hand on the corner. She picked up a banana, in hopes trying to appear as if she belonged in the scene—of her own apartment.

As the lock on Kate’s front door opened, a tall young man with a bright smiled walked through the door. He kept his hair trimmed tight, even though it held a close curl to his head. He had a wide nose and kind eyes. Wesley was objectively good looking: not the Greek God that Grayson Dolan was, but still an attractive man.

Wesley slipped in the doorway with a smile, none the wiser to the soaking Dolan being hidden in Kate’s bathroom. “Hey Katie,” he smiled and walked over to kiss her cheek, “didn’t think you’d be here tonight.”

Wesley Brooks was a medical student, hoping to become a neurosurgeon. He met Kate at a party last summer, about six months ago. He had instantly fallen for her big brown eyes and joyful laughter.

Wesley had quickly become a staple in Kate’s life: he would run coffee to her when she was working late, cover for her when she slept in too late, and give her his containers of duck sauce when they ordered Chinese food because he knew how much she loved it.

As a couple, Wesley and Kate made sense. They were both beautiful, brilliant, driven, and young. Kate sometimes felt out of place at school, where most of her peers came from wealthy families and privileged backgrounds: Wesley was one of the few people who could relate to her. He had grown up in rural Georgia and went to college on a generous, philanthropic scholarship.

Kate gave Wesley the key to her apartment about four months ago, when classes had started up again. Wesley regularly stopped by to start making dinner while Kate cleaned up her lab, or to water her plants when he knew she was having a busy week. That night, Wesley stopped by to pick up his gym bag, that he left in her coat closet, before he headed off for a late-night cardio session.

He walked into the room with a graceful step. He kissed her cheek quickly. Kate threw her shoulders back and stiffened her jaw. “You doing alright Katie?” Wesley’s voice was warm and sweet, triggering Kate’s stomach to start lurching.

She nodded quickly as Wesley walked over to the coat closet to grab his bag, “Yeah, just stress. I’m still finishing that project,” her voice wavered no less than three times over the course of that sentence.

Wesley threw the duffel bag around his shoulder and looked back at her, “I’m surprised you’re home honestly, I thought you’d be pulling another all-nighter. Make sure you eat dinner and get some sleep tonight, okay?” He smiled at her from the corner of the room. Kate nodded erratically, “I will,” she threw him a half-hearted smile. “Love you Katie,” Wesley said with his hand on the doorknob. He walked out of the room as she muttered a meek, “Love you too”.

Grayson slowly crept out of his clandestine hiding place in the bathroom. He had heard every word while dripping water onto Kate’s bathmats.

“You have a boyfriend?” Grayson’s question was more of a statement.

Kate exhaled and closed her eyes, hoping that the tension of the moment would disappear if she pretended it wasn’t there.

“I’m sorry,” Grayson started, “I’m so so sorry.” His lips curled. “I should have never left the party, I should have---I could have---I—” “It’s alright Grayson,” Kate’s voice was sure and confident in her answer.

She took in a deep breath, “Let’s go, let’s not—be here anymore.” She hated herself for fearing another intrusion from Wesley.

That Malibu beach remained the same since the last time they visited: embracing on a towel after declaring their love for each other for the first time. Neither one of them was sure who suggested they take refuge on its shores, but it was the perfect place for Grayson and Kate to be alone on that January night.

The rain soaked into the sand, muffling out the drumming noise. The dark sky was not suitable for a midnight walk, so the pair found shelter under a large boulder. They sat down, each not wearing anything that was acceptable for a beach. Sand sneaked its way into Grayson’s dress shoes. Kate’s leggings were being soaked by the wet terrain.

She moved first, looking at him as the wind whipped her dark locks around her head. Her voice was earnest and sincere, “What happened Grayson?”  

“After we broke up, I—I didn’t exactly know what to do. I thought about you all the time, nearly every day. But I knew that wouldn’t do my any good.” Grayson thumb at a where the sand met his wet pants. He exhaled roughly.

He spoke the next part with a vigorous sureness in his voice for the first time that night “I didn’t know—At first, I threw myself into my work: I took up some directing projects, poured energy into Wake heart projects-- I worked with Ethan to design a clothing label. We wanted to remind people to stay positive and keep smiles on their faces.”  

He took a deep breath and nearly mumbled his next few words, “It’s ironic, smiles were so much emptier without you.”

“Eventually, I-I shook myself out of it and started seeing some ….people, started trying to work on all those things that I stupidly did to you back in the day.” He wiped sand from his hands and turned his eyes to the ground, not wanting to have Kate, even in his peripheral vision as he continued.

“I met Sherry about a year and a half ago; she went to an event as someone’s plus one. We started dating like right away. She understood. Not-Not understood me in the way that you do-- did of course, only Ethan comes close to that. But she really understood what kind of pressure was on me with all the businesses and the attention. She always wanted a family, she said that on our first date. I proposed at Thanksgiving, I figured there was no reason not to be with a woman who not only understood my lifestyle but wanted to start a family like me.”

He shook his upper body, as if trying to shake off the raindrops from his messy figure. He looked up from the ground to meet Kate’s gaze as the wind whipped her hair around her face. It was an enchanting image: the sight of her on a beach at midnight; the kind of image that would come to him in his most feverish, rare dreams. She was everything feminine and sweet, with eyes that could offer him comfort after any plight: so different from everything else in his world: his sweet enigma. He swallowed hard and licked his lips, his voice took on a breathy, desperate tone.

“But there is a reason. And that reason is you, Kate.”

[innately-pretentious]

Let’s go out. (Klaus Hargreeves x Reader)

Request: Heyaa hope ur ok! You write Klaus so well and was wondering if I could request one where the reader and him get ready for a night out? I love ur blog! 💛

A/N: Ahh thank you so much! This is lowkey not proof read so forgive any mistakes, hope this is alright for you! ❤️✨

It was supposed to be a quiet night in, spending some much needed alone time together. Work had been hectic, and although you loved it, you unfortunately had to work late for the majority of nights this week, much to Klaus’ dismay.

Shrugging off your coat and kicking off your shoes, throwing your keys onto the table next to the door, you let out a sigh as you welcomed the familiar view of you apartment. The two of you had only been living together for a brief time, but despite only having this place for two months, you both have made it feel like a home. The first week had mainly consisted of running around various second-hand shops looking for mismatched furniture to buy. Being kicked out of IKEA for playing hide and seek or jumping across the sofas, he insisted that this was a vital test for such a large investment. Despite all this he definitely had an eye for design, you trusted him with the interior decor. You swear you even caught him making a Pinterest board once.

You slowly make your way into the apartment, hearing the faint sound of music coming from the kitchen. Cracking open the door slightly, you can’t help but smile at what you see. He is sloppily dressed, a pair of skinny jeans with no shoes, hair slightly scruffy, yesterdays eyeliner still slightly smeared across his lids, and your colourful robe loosely draped over his shoulders, hardly doing anything to hide the fact he has no shirt on. He glides around the kitchen with drink in one hand and a large spoon in the other, eyes shut as he dances to the music. Even when he is dancing alone, he always manages to seem elegant. Swaying and spinning around the kitchen, your robe flowing behind him as he continues working on dinner.

It’s at this point you decide to make yourself known, pushing the door open a little further and entering the room.

“Y/N! Didn’t hear you come in!” He said, putting his drink and utensils down to engulf you in a hug.

“I didn’t want to disturb your cooking, I missed you,” you replied, leaning up to press a soft kiss onto his lips.

“Please, if anything distract me more, you’ve been working late all week. I’m starting to feel like a housewife waiting for her husband to return,” he said sarcastically.

“You’re the best trophy wife I could ever ask for,” you joked.

He chuckled and pulled you closer to him, encouraging you to join with his dancing. Taking both your arms and swaying you back and forth, laughing and holding his arm above you for you to spin under. You try to do the same for him, but his tall stature has him bending slightly backwards to make it under the arch your arm has created. You two slowed down as the music faded, unlinking from each other and going to grab some food. Klaus was by no means a professional chef, but he was competent enough to make a good pasta. You both head out to the balcony to watch the sunset as you eat.

“Let’s go out” He said, finishing his dinner and taking a drag from his cigarette, gazing at you hopefully.

“I don’t know Klaus, it’s getting late” You replied.

“Come on Y/N, you’ve been slaving away all week and I have been the perfect little domestic goddess and cooked you a delicious meal. The weekend has just begun and we have nowhere to be tomorrow!” He argued, you were about to say no, but you saw the excitement in his eyes. He loved nothing more than seeing where the night took you both, getting lost on stupid adventures was a well rehearsed hobby of his.

“Fine! But only because you asked so nicely.” You said.

And just like that he was beaming, he smiled a genuine smile, putting out his cig and yanking you towards your bedroom. He gently pushed you into the chair next to the dressing table, pulling out boxes full of makeup and accessories. You could tell he was itching to get his hands on you, probably coming up with some baroque-esque look for the two of you. You were always slightly envious of his clothing and makeup collection.

“I’m thinking…” He begins, putting his thumb and index fingers in the shape of a rectangle, as if he is trying to see what vision he has for you, “I’m thinking vintage with an edge, but make it fashion?” He asks, cocking his head to the side, asking subtly for your approval.

“Surprise me,” You say with a smile, “I am your canvas.”

He gleams once more and turns to your shared wardrobe. You both had such a habit of borrowing each others clothes, you thought it would be more practical to just share one. Klaus has never been one to shy away from stereotypically ‘feminine’ clothing, you often found him wearing your stuff. He grabs handfuls of different fabrics, holding them up seemingly inspecting them.

He gently took your chin in large hand, smiling and telling you to shut your eyes as he came closer with some black eyeliner. Peeking through your lashes you could see the concentration on his face. The way his eyes furrow gently, teeth holding his lower lip as he focuses on his masterpiece.

“What got you into all of this stuff in the first place?” You ask, “Fashion, dressing up, the avant-garde style?”

He pulls away as he puts the lid back on the pencil. “I’m not gonna lie, I did do my fair share of raiding Allison’s wardrobe growing up, stealing a few of her magazines from her dresser etcetera. Guess I wanted the interior to mach the exterior, my personality definitely matches my appearance, now open your eyes?”

You do and look once again at him, his eyes are scanning your face for any imperfections he may come across. Finally deciding that his work was complete, he lets you turn to the mirror to see for yourself. You gaze at your reflection, it was subtle. Well, at least more subtle than you were expecting. Just some purple glitter on your eyes, slightly leading up towards your temples. It was the kind that was almost invisible in the dark, but would shimmer when the light hit it in the right angle. Perfect. You turned back to Klaus, his head resting in his hands as he studied your face for any disapproving looks.

“It’s perfect” you said,

“C’est magnifique.”

He stands up and hands you a bunch of clothes he has carefully selected. Urging you to put them on, he seemed almost as excited as a child playing dress up. The thought struck a nerve with you, remembering his less than ideal childhood, he probably never had the chance to experience this. Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, you gathered the clothes in your arms and headed to the bathroom to change.

“Oh so you’re shy now? I promised I wouldn’t have peaked.” He says with a wink.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his playful flirting, shutting the door behind you to inspect what outrageous outfit he had chosen this time. Flicking through the clothes you decide to just put them on, trusting his judgement on what he feels would look best. A pair of his wide legged black trousers and a pair of combat boots, matched with a sheer black button up shirt and on of his signature long necklaces. This outfit was definitely out of your comfort zone, however, you didn’t hate it at all. Fluffing up your hair to make it look slightly lived in, you open the door to your boyfriend to let him take in the view of his creation.

He turned around as soon as he heard the door open. His face softened into a genuine smile, he stood up to see you fully. Taking in your appearance, he couldn’t help but admire you. The way his trousers hugged your waist with the shirt elegantly draped over your shoulders was stunning. He stepped forwards to add some finishing touches, tucking in the shirt and undoing the top three buttons. He stopped at the third and gave you a suggestive smirk, you batted his hands away with a small chuckle.

“So give us a spin,” he smirked, which you reluctantly did, suddenly feeling slightly embarrassed as he shamelessly looked up and down your body. He noticed your hesitation and pulled you towards him by your waist.

“If you don’t like it you can take it off, you know that right?” A worried look now grazing his features, in fear he made you uncomfortable. You just smiled at his concern for you.

“I know, but your clothes just look so much better on me.”

“Brilliant” He said stifling a laugh, he began coaxing you to the door, holding out his classic black coat for you to put on. Checking one last time for your keys, phone and wallet, the two of you were ready to leave.

“M’lady…” He said, opening the door ahead and dramatically gesturing for you to go through. You head out to see where the night takes you both, arms linked together as you traverse the city, looking for excitement.

[leiainhoth]

Summery: Luke and Din wake up on their first day in Mos Pelgo, but a disturbing vision forces the Marshal to make a decision … Luke woke with a start, his heart racing. The blankets were twisted about the bed, and he was startled, lost and confused. Where was he? He fell back against the headboard with his head in his hands as he tried to catch his breath. The room he was in was strange to him, but as he blinked and settled, it came back to him in a wave. He was on Tatooine; his ship was still on Tython. Maker, he was stuck here. Stuck without a comm, without any way out. They had two more days until the caravan left for Mos Eisley. This wasn’t a sticky or even unpleasant situation to find himself in, comparatively, but still. It was Tatooine! He thought he’d never come back here again. He knew that they wouldn’t be for long; with any luck, he and the Mandalorian would be able to hire a transport of some kind when they returned to civilization and then they’d leave this dustbowl for good. Luke flushed suddenly, strangely, as his mind unhelpfully provided a possessive pronoun as he considered his companion. The Mandalorian was good company; after so long being recognized in the rebel alliance, being anonymous on his homeworld was… strangely welcome. Whatever the Mandalorian had done other than killing a krayt dragon to gain the respect of these people was unknown to him. Luke had surmised that the curious and unprecedented treaty between Mos Pelgo and the Sand People had been negotiated by both the Marshal and Mando. But it rested steadily, on firm ground. The day before, Luke had watched the town carefully, using both the force and his intuition to ascertain the mood of Mos Pelgo. He wasn’t surprised exactly to find it perfectly amicable, friendly, even. Luke had never seen the massiffs of the Sand People, but they were in town, sniffing at the feet of their masters as they moved through the street. Children petted their reptilian hides, and Luke watched carefully, nonetheless, aware of his personal experiences with the Sand People clouding his judgement. He had no qualms with them, not really. But he had been raised to see their kind as an enemy, and it was hard to move past his instinctual fear of the unknown to accept them as they were. The light from the slit beneath his door was dark; it must be very early. Luke had risen with the sunrise and slipped out the door to meditate before his companions woke. The horizon was indigo and azure, and the world was still. Luke was barefoot, and he walked slowly, mindful of the cool stone and sand, the sound his heels made as they struck the earth. It was early enough that even the miners of Mos Pelgo remained in their beds, and Luke took a deep breath, trying to stay mindful and calm in the early morning hour. Luke often meditated in the morning; even when he was living on Chandrila, he had risen with the sun, often losing track of time as he calmed his thoughts for the day ahead. There was much to consider, so many paths that he could take. The universe was open to him, now. So far as he knew, he was the last and indeed the only Jedi master left in the galaxy. What others had done in the past, their mistakes and triumphs were his alone to bear. Luke was their legacy; whatever it was to be a Jedi would be told through his eyes. Much of his time was spent looking for Jedi artifacts, scouring what little remained in the Coruscant archives, hunting rumour after rumour at the promise of surviving force-sensitives across the galaxy. What did it mean to be a Jedi? How did one come to be a master? How could Luke remain faithful to the Jedi legacy while addressing the bigotry and close-mindedness of the past? He often conferred with Obi-Wan and Yoda’s force ghosts, usually in the late evening or early morning. Their advice grew stale with time, both reminiscent of the Jedi order’s greatness when they were young. They warned Luke to not fall prey to his feelings, lest they lead him into the darkness. As he grew older, Luke found it harder and harder to justify absolutes. There could be no absolute darkness, no absolute light. There were always cracks in the glass, slivers of joy and peace and contentment, even if one’s heart had soured with the ways of the world. Could a Jedi truly have no attachments? Possessiveness, Luke could understand. A lover or a friend is not an object one can covet exclusively, hold in the air against one’s will. Love is reciprocated, love is open hands; love is the realization that another’s happiness is equal to your own. Love was not love when it was exclusive. Love is what Luke saw when he saw the child and his father. Luke couldn’t claim to know or understand what his companion thought or felt. He was stoic and silent, speaking only when necessary, and then most often to his child. Love flowed out of him like a flood, bursting forth without thought or restraint. He loved the child desperately, with a heartwarming affection that stemmed from loss. Luke knew better than to press; whatever he had witnessed on Tython was a desperate thing. His companion had been of the heart and mind that he would lose the child forever if Luke took him. It had shocked and deeply disturbed him. What had happened to make the Mandalorian think that Luke, a perfect stranger, take a child away from his father with no hope of return. It was devastating, and that was before Luke knew the child. Grogu’s love for his father was profound, deeper perhaps than any love Luke had ever known. Grogu loved unconditionally, desperately; his whole soul was wrapped around that of his father. And it was reciprocated. Din protected the child, and the child loved him; they were tied in the force; together. Even if he was able to, even if Luke wanted to, he’d never be able to breach it. What the Mandalorian and his child had, Din had never seen anything like it. They were family together or parted. Bound together in ways Luke could never understand. He had had his aunt and uncle, and later Leia and Han. But a mother, a father; Luke would never have what the child did. He might be a Jedi Master, a general, a grown man , but a part of him would always be an orphan on Tatooine, unsure of who he could be. Unaware that great things were awaiting him. But Grogu didn’t need greatness; he already possessed it. The child’s strength in the force was extraordinary; he would be a Jedi knight if he wanted to be. And he was so pure, so young, his force signature was bright , dancing on the edge of his consciousness like the light of the setting suns. Luke wanted to train him, wanted to see how they could learn from one another. Grogu had told Luke about his time in the Jedi temple on Coruscant, about the masters and padawans before Order 66. That part of the child’s consciousness was clouded, murky. It was clear to Luke that the child had been forced to hide his abilities; even now, he restrained himself. Meditating made it easier for Luke to feel the child and understand his past to progress into the future. And his father, holy Hoth, Luke didn’t know what to think of Grogu’s buir. He was intimidating, tall, bound in impenetrable armour. He rarely spoke, but the child had told Luke about him through their force bond, telling Luke about their ship, their time in the market, the frogs he had eaten playing with his friend Winta by the ponds. He told Luke about his bantha toy, his fish and his durasteel knob his buir had given him. Luke remembered the joy in the child’s eyes the night before when Grogu showed Luke his new tunic. It was made of red fabric, and even though Grogu hadn’t fully understood what ad meant (which was fair, considering Luke hadn’t either), he understood the significance. This meant something to his buir, and Grogu was honoured to have been trusted with it. The tunic was carefully sewn, its seams even and straight, and Luke thanked the child both verbally and mentally for telling him. Luke had begun constructing the first tenuous threads of their force-bond, connecting Grogu to him in the way that Obi-Wan and Yoda had taught him all those years ago. As he meditated on it, Luke couldn’t help the feeling something already established was a bond that he couldn’t explain. It felt… strong , reciprocated. The Mandalorian had told him that he wasn’t force-sensitive, but Luke was starting to think that it wasn’t true. There was a thread connecting father and son, a force bond that couldn’t exist without communication coming from both sides. Maybe the Mandalorian didn’t know; it was possible. Some force-sensitive beings had hidden their abilities, or more often still, had no way of comprehending that which they had. Luke suspected that Grogu’s father fell into the latter category. It was strange, but not unheard of, for Mandalorians to have the abilities of the Jedi. Luke wondered if his companion knew. But he had to, Luke reasoned with himself. He was smart enough to have realized that something strange was happening. There was something extraordinary in their bond between the boy and his father. Grogu was delighted, and Luke smiled, thinking about how much joy and happiness the child exuded when his father was nearby. Luke took a deep breath, sitting cross-legged in the sand beside the house. The Jedi meditated for any number of reasons, but as Luke closed his eyes and steadied his breathing, he could feel it. The force sang to him, whispered about him like an early morning breeze. It tangled itself in the sand below his body, in the wispy clouds far above him. The force dipped and swirled across every grain of sand, every house, every person. Luke let his hands fall to his knees and just breathed, becoming one with all that was around him. The early morning air was cool but warming with each passing second. Luke took a breath and imagined all his thoughts lining up in a row and dismissed them one by one. His missing X-wing, his lost droid. The worries of his sister and friends on Chandrila and his inability to contact them. He took another breath and continued down the list. Jedi do not covet; Jedi do not possess. Thoughts are vapour and memory, and Jedi are above them. Jedi are above the common and unbroken; Jedi are the peacekeepers of the galaxy. But what it meant to be a Jedi was up to him, now. This path was his to take alone. He thought of Boba Fett, the bounty hunter Han had tossed into the sarlaac pit by accident all those years ago. He thought of his ship, the strange gyroscopic interior, the worry of the Mandalorian hanging thick in the air. He thought of the rocks and the sand, the air and the binary suns of Tatooine, and slowly, he let them go. Feeling them fade to mist and vapour and float into the air. Luke felt warmth on his eyelids and blinked his weary eyes open. The suns were rising, the lesser first, but the latter was rosy on the sandy horizon. It had been months since Luke had allowed himself the luxury of watching the suns rise. There was something peaceful in their inevitability; time never stopped, it never stood still. Until the suns burst into supernovas and faded from the sky, they would rise, peak and set. Not even the Jedi could prevent the inevitable. Luke heard a disturbance behind him and lowered himself back to the ground, feeling his feet dip into the warming sand as he landed. The Mandalorian must be up, Luke thought with a small smile. The child must be wanting breakfast. The eager and soft force imprint of the child danced around the doorway, and Luke grinned fully at the sight of the child cooing in his father’s arms. The Mandalorian held the baby securely, not surprised to see Luke as he entered the house. “Good morning,” Luke said pleasantly, walking over to the caf machine. The Mandalorian acknowledged him and nodded, settling the child on a chair before rising. “Did you sleep well?” “Yes,” the Mandalorian said, walking over to the icebox. Luke never had been one for idle chatter; words lost their meaning when used in excess. He appreciated the direct nature of his companion, even if the silence could be confusing at times. Luke punched in the code for a singular cup of caf before turning to his companion, gesturing to the rumbling machine. “Would you care for a cup?” “No, thank you,” the Mandalorian said stiffly, retrieving the bowls of stew and vegetables and feeding them into the heating element. Luke nodded, not exactly perturbed, but dancing on a knife-edge of curiosity. He tried to tune out the child’s repetitious calls for sweets, one he wasn’t sure his companion had noticed if his stiff posture was anything to go by. Luke hesitated in calming the child with their fledgling force bond, mindful of how invasive an unexpected presence could be. The child cooed and babbled to himself, his thoughts fluttering quickly from one to another. The pendant Luke had noticed the day before was around the child’s neck, the cord taut on the back of his tunic as he gummed on the Mythosaur’s tusks. He was so small, so innocent. So deserving of attentive care, so worthy of a father who loved him. Grogu caught his father’s gaze, and his force signature was sunshine, bright golden beams that illuminated the world around him. Luke let himself be swept away in the flood of warmth the child offered his father, unsure if the man could feel it, wondering if his companion could sense how much the child loved him. “Here,” the Mandalorian said softly, a plate of warmed leftovers placed in front of Luke. He turned to look at his companion, a smile dancing on the edge of his lips. “Eat, I need to speak to Vanth,” “Vanth?” Luke inquired, watching the baby cuddle closer to his father. “Yes,” the Mandalorian said. “The Marshal. Can you take the little one?” “Yes,” Luke said, reaching up for the baby, smiling as the child relaxed into Luke’s arms. The Mandalorian ran a hand over the child’s head and left without a word. Luke adjusted the child in his arms, looking down at the meal the Mandalorian had prepared for him. It was the same meal as the day before, but Luke was touched, just the same. A bowl full to the brim of bantha milk pudding sat beside his plate, and Luke raised a spoon with a surge of happiness. It had been years since he’d had it; certainly, there were better things to eat, and not many in the core worlds enjoyed it. Bantha milk had been a staple of his childhood, a cheap and plentiful thing that had been at every breakfast of his younger years. It was plain but sweet and filling. Luke had struggled to contain his excitement the night prior when he noticed it, and his companion must have noticed. The last scrapings of the bowl were on the table, neatly divided into two bowls. He took a bite, letting the familiar taste warm him up. The baby giggled, one clawed hand dipping into his bowl and lifting it to his mouth. “Do you like it, Grogu?” The baby grinned a toothy grin, and Luke felt an influx of images. His father, the plush toy he had cuddled with the night before, a woman in armour he didn’t recognize. He felt joy, contentment. Without words, the child had communicated a clear message, whatever it was that Luke was to this family of two, he was becoming a part of it. The child shared his life with Luke, his joy, happiness, and the love he shared with his buir. Luke took another bite but dropped the spoon before it reached his mouth, his mind swimming with an abrupt influx of information. A man with a blaster and a masked face broke through a door, the sunlight harsh and jarring in the dark space. A woman was below him, also heavily armed, looking down at a pale blue Twi'lek woman, struggling against chains. The woman shot the bracers away and nodded as the Twi'lek fled, her torn manacles rushing against the stoned floor. Luke watched, askance, as the man turned his attention to the bulbous Twi'lek on the throne. He heard the man’s nervous welcome to the masked figure and watched with horror as he was shot where he sat, pushed away from the throne. It wasn’t until the man sat that Luke recognized him. The paint was new, but the armour was painfully familiar. Boba Fett had retaken the syndicate on Tatooine. Luke gasped, pulling himself from the vision with difficulty. His breath came hot and fast, and he scooped up the baby and ran towards the door. continued

[muddyhippy]

Night Terrors, Chapter 8: Lying in the Dark (11k)

As always gorgeous artwork done by @smolghostings

Lying in the Dark 

Jonny wasn’t in his room.  

It was late, well, it felt late but he wasn’t in his room. That was rare, he was normally easy to find. Only sometimes he was doing something else. But still, she’d had a bad dream and she wanted him to tell her it was alright. He was very good at it, when he said things were alright she believed him. He gave really good cuddles too. She liked sleeping in with him when she got really scared, he made her feel safe and he kept the bad dreams away for the rest of the night.  

It hadn’t been a  horribly  bad dream, or at least, not as horrible as they were back on the ship but it was still a  bad  one, one with screaming and blood and accusations. She wanted him. Wanted to know that it was just her brain telling her lies again. The bad ones couldn’t hurt her anymore and they weren’t hiding on the ship anywhere and her people weren’t cross with her for leaving them behind to live with the Mechanisms. Jonny knew a liar when he saw one he said, he knew a lie when he heard it too so he could tell her that it was just a bad dream and nothing more.  

Nothing to be scared of.  

Lily hummed unhappily, trying to think of where to look. She could wait for him, but she didn’t want to be on her own that long. If she was looking for him then she was doing something to fix it herself.  

She carried on humming, the corridor was quiet but hummed a little bit in response.  

Lily didn’t really notice the change in pitch of it as she wandered along, too preoccupied with a lurking nightmare and looking in each and every door along the way.  

She was so busy investigating the doors to the side she didn’t notice the access panel open at the end of the corridor, when she emerged from the latest room she just assumed it was another open door. Lily wandered in, her search for Jonny far too important to worry about the possibility of getting lost.  

Aurora knew exactly what she was doing. She recognised the child’s humming and responded in kind. The little one was sad, sad and scared and missing someone. Missing Jonny.  

Lily had woken up after tossing and turning and crying out.  

Aurora often watched over the little one, making sure she had someone looking in on her. She often pinged Jonny’s communicator to warn him if it looked like Lily was having a particularly bad one. They’d been increasing in number recently. More crying and screaming from the child which was something Aurora hated to see.  

She liked Lily, the child was bright and made her crew smile, bringing some sort of lightness with her when she laughed and smiled and danced. It made the darkness of her dreams all that more stark.  

Aurora had got into the habit of alerting Jonny whenever he was  awake  and he would always go to comfort the child wholeheartedly without a single  hesitation,  but she drew the line of when he was sleeping.  

She knew her love worried about the first mate, the fact that until Lily he’d been slowly getting colder and harder and wilder. More trigger happy, heavier drinking and going for weeks without sleep. She was worried his descent into extended self-destruction would be irreparable but each time she’d tried to broach the subject she’d been rebuffed as though he had no idea what she’d been talking about even if this had been going on, bit by bit, for centuries.  

With Lily joining the crew it had forced Jonny into altering his behaviour pretty drastically, and to a lesser extent had forced the entire crew too. They were now trying to avoid murdering each other outright, violence in general had dropped to a bare minimum because no one wanted to make Lily cry the way she had on her first night with them. That had been horrific, and whilst they may all be bastards of the highest order, they may be entertained by war and death but they weren’t complete monsters and they didn’t enjoy listening to or worse, being the cause of a child who obviously adored them sobbing her little heart out.  

Lily, latching on to Jonny as she had, had thrown real, serious and immediate responsibility into his lap. But instead of bolting or imploding like almost the whole crew had expected him to, he rose to the challenge. Nastya and Aurora however had hoped the child would have this affect on him, she’d seen Jonny long before the others had been forcibly added to the crew. She knew far more of how he worked, how much he cared.  

Lily  gave Jonny intrinsic permission to care, loudly and openly without a shred of derision or the threat of punishment for caring. She was a little girl who needed love and reassurance and surety. And Jonny provided it, unconsciously most of the time, she was a priority to him and so he gave her his attention and did what he could to make sure she was alright.  

It had pleased Aurora and Nastya no end to see how much Lily reciprocated that even without truly understanding the extent of it.  

Jonny even had somewhat of a routine now, he was forced to talk instead of shooting his way out or he could just leave the room without blowing up if things were too much. He was starting to practice sharing his real thoughts and feelings, both ship and engineer were deeply amused that such an accomplished liar found it impossible to really lie to Lily, omitting some truths until she was older excepting, he answered honestly to any question she asked. Then again, so did the rest of the crew when she had a question, no one had really learned to withstand the eyes yet.  

He put her to bed at night and often woke in the morning to her snuggled against him. He’d eased off on his drinking for the most part, wanting to be semi-sober to deal with any bad nightmares and he’d slept more in the last four and half months than he had in the last four years.  

Aurora was pleased to see that when Lily joined the first mate in his bunk both occupants slept more easily and peacefully.  

Which was why Aurora was loath ever to wake him.  

This time however, Jonny was not asleep.  

Aurora happened to know exactly where he was, he’d got swept up into a spirited argument with about something that was long overdue and needed settling whilst the ceasefire was in place. Aurora would be tempted to eject them both into space if they attempted to hash this out with their usual methods, she nearly had done the last time this was broached several centuries ago. That time Brian and Ivy had killed them both before they got dangerously destructive.    

They needed to actually argue and resolve things without murdering each other for once so she steered Lily away from that cathartic nonsense and guided her instead down to her love who’d been a little despondent of late and could probably use the affection Lily gave freely to anyone who wanted it.  

Lily wandered guilessly down into the depths of the starship, humming along in tune unbeknownstly with Aurora.  

She was just beginning to get worried that she was really very lost when she heard some familiar muttering up ahead.  

“Nastya?”  

The muttering stopped.  

“Nastya?” She called again, a little louder this time.  

“ Маленький ?”    

“What?”  

There was more muttering which quickly flipped to English.  

“Lily?”  

“Nastya? Where are you?”  

The engineer appeared from the other side of a service hatch.  

“What are you doing down here?” She looked about for an accompanying Jonny, surprised that Lily appeared to be on her own, “You should be in bed.”  

Lily suddenly remembered why she was here in the first place.  

“Had a bad dream, wanted Jonny but I couldn’t find him.” The child sniffed, rubbing at her eye with her sleeve.  

Sometimes it struck Nastya all over again just how young Lily was. When she was up and bouncing with the crew it was almost easy to forget, she was so full of life and smiles, bringing out what could arguably be described as the best of them that it was very easy to equate them all together, like she just belonged and fitted in as if she’d always been there.  

Especially since they’d all tried hard to curb their more violent instincts around her.  

Right  now,  Nastya was painfully reminded of her own young self.  

The engineer was never entirely sure exactly how to handle Lily, her own childhood was so very different what Lily had experienced so far both on her own ship and with them. She was free with her affection and care with them all which was surprisingly pleasant after a fashion.  

It had taken Nastya a while to get used to Lily’s exuberant love for the crew, for their lives and especially for her own love, Aurora. Lily had accepted the two of them without a single qualm, only asking Nastya how she communicated and if she could learn to say hello too.  

That, that had stilled her.  

Jonny had learned enough to interpret Aurora’s clearer messages, as had Brian to an extent given he was her pilot and they needed to work together, Ivy and Raphaella, the latter pair inspired by curiosity. Tim too, knew some of her simpler sounds, mainly due to his first few weeks conscious it took him a while to get used to his new multileveled-vision. He kept his eyes closed when he was too overwhelmed. Aurora had hummed to him in the darkness of those confusing weeks because he was nearly as young as her Nastya and Jonny, another boy gone to war too soon and seen too much.  

Brian had an understanding because he felt something of a kinship with her, sentience encased in steel and brass and Jonny because he’d been there the longest, Aurora had done her best to help him when it was just him, when he’d won her from the soldiers but before he and Carmilla had brought on board her love when he was actually, truly, young and lost, scared and very betrayed. She’d hidden him when she could and he’d learned which of her noises meant that she was pleased, annoyed or was offering comfort.  

Aurora had told Nastya that she had composed a lullaby for each of the crew but only a few of them actually noticed. She was still working on one for Lily whilst Nastya had an entire anthology dedicated to her composed over centuries, each created to show her love for her engineer.  

Lily had asked in her second week about Aurora, found out they were in love and beamed. Then asked about talking to her. Lily was still learning, it took a while to get past the basics of different sounds and she wasn’t confident talking to Aurora on her own truly. Nastya had explained that it didn’t matter that she couldn’t understand Aurora’s replies and that she could talk to her anyway. Lily had argued that that felt rude to just talk at someone and not be able to listen properly and be equal.  

Nastya had made the mistake of saying she should sing to her instead then.  

Lily had taken this to mean sing-everything-you-want-to-say-to-Aurora-instead-of-speaking-it.  

It was unbearably cute sometimes.  

Not that she would admit to deeming anything ‘cute’ to anyone but Aurora.  

Aurora had cooed to Nastya about it for three full weeks when it first began, telling her of the stories Lily sang to her in her room. Lily sang to her telling Aurora all about the tea parties with the Toy Soldier, listening to Marius play, reading with Ivy and shooting with Tim all to tunes of her own devising. She sang of science experiments with Raphaella, star charting with Brian, cataloguing and card games with Ashes, all the story telling and cuddling and nightmares she shared with Jonny and mending things with Nastya all rendered with the same piping little voice that showed definite promise. Aurora was delighted to be told things rather than it be assumed she knew anyway, Lily was aware Aurora was the ship and she was alive but whilst she knew Aurora could see everything theoretically, for Lily she was a person who just wasn’t in the room rather than  actually  being  the room.  So,  wanted to tell her about her adventures.  

It made Aurora hum with happiness. And it pleased Nastya to see her love so included.  

Lily sniffed again, “can, can I help please?”      

Nastya was well-versed enough in Lily-speak to know what she was really asking but didn’t want to be demanding.  

“Come on then, I need another pair of hands with this panel.”  

Within moments Lily was stationed on Nastya’s lap small spanner in hand carefully unscrewing the more delicate bolts.  

This went on peacefully for another 10 minutes until the tell-tale wiggling started.  

The movements were slight, reigned in heavily but Nastya knew all about repressed movements, it was her childhood in the palace. Hiding her playfulness and then her constriction under polite curtsies and porcelain smiles.  

Lily was a born dancer, she had grace enough to find a home amongst the ballet and ballroom steps of the cold and haughty parties Nastya had been forced to attend, groomed into the perfect wind-up doll to be presentable at parties.  

But Lily had no place there.  

Lily was a child who was encouraged by them all to feel and share and sing.  

Aurora had shown Nastya footage of Lily with the others, waltzing with Tim, Brian and TS as they sang ‘Hatter and Hare’ to her, learning how to classically ballroom with Marius who might not be a real Baron but certainly knew the steps well enough to pass but beamed the entire time whilst teaching her. Jonny had even been teaching her some square dancing, far away from the others on nights when she was too tired to scream and charge about with her rage but to angry to settle back into sleep, they stomped and swirled and dosy-doed with a vengeance.  

It warmed her cold, quicksilver-fuelled heart.  

So she was an expert in knowing when Lily wanted to say something but wasn’t sure. She found she felt sad that Lily was still unsure of her four and half months into her living with them.  

But then again, she saw her less than the others did, more comfortable in the core of the engine decks than the main living areas it was usually Jonny or Aurora herself who guided Lily down to see her when it wasn’t a meal time. Nastya didn’t always make it up for a group meal but she did now make a concerted effort to join them all at least once every few days, especially when if she hadn’t made an appearance for a while Lily would appear with Jonny in tow bringing a lovingly made sandwich which Nastya dutifully ate ignoring the smirking Jonny who stood behind the beaming Lily, happy at having done her self-appointed job of making sure the crew was fed regularly.  

She saw a lot of herself in Lily and she didn’t know what to do with that.  

The child she herself might have been if protocol and duty hadn’t been forced down her throat the moment she could walk and talk.  

It was one of the reasons Nastya didn’t resent teaching Lily anything she asked to learn about. Everything in her formative years had been prescriptive, the least she could do now was contribute properly to Lily’s eclectic education, encouraging any interest no matter how varied or how ‘unladylike’. Nastya’s lip curled, the term still made her thrum with a raging quiet of fury.  

Nastya was fairly certain she, Jonny, Tim and the Toy Soldier were the only four that had any form of formal education, for her and Tim at least certainly past the age of 12. TS was mainly taught etiquette and the others either had no memory of it or were not keen to share.  

Jonny she knew because he’d confided in her one day when she’d found him hiding from Carmilla’s wrath, her beration ringing through the corridors that she was going to make ‘a backwater dolt like you learn to be a competent assistant even if it takes  centuries ’  

Nastya had silently dried his tears, used her cool hands to sooth his fresh bruises and assured him he wasn’t stupid.  

He’d had to drop out of school at 12 in order to pick up more work to support his mother as his father drank more and more of the household income and hadn’t been confident in his reading, writing or arithmetic.  

She’d started helping him get a hang of the basics when they hid together, enough to avoid the more violent repercussions of ‘failing’ the good doctor.  

Jonny still wasn’t a fan of anything that sparked.  

Still, he, like the others all had useful skills to share.  

Ashes was in a similar situation, the orphanage forced the children in their care into nominal education but they’d learned their most important lessons on the street and then with the Sevens.  

Jonny and Nastya had done their level best to protect the newly mechanised Ashes from Carmilla’s wrath, ensuring their new crew mate’s literacy was up to scratch. As it was, Ashes with their Quartermaster’s mind took to the particular order and meaning of words and numbers Carmilla expected like a match to gasoline.  

All the others were accepted as was.  

Lily was eager to learn to as much as possible, she was interested in everything and it seemed to please all the crew that she wanted to listen to them and valued their skills enough to want to emulate them.  

Which is why she knew how to carefully undo panel bolts and rewire the smaller plugs and transistors under supervision.  

But Lily didn’t come down here to help.  

It was 1:30am.  

She was up and out of bed and clearly upset.  

Nastya wondered where her useless lump of a brother was and how hard she could kill him for leaving her to deal with a sad Lily. Maybe she could take her to Brian or Marius? They were good at this, certainly better at emotions than she was and—  

“Nastya?”  

Nasyta cursed extensively and creatively in her own head.  

“Yes  сладости ?” “Have you killed anyone?”  Fuck everything and its goddamn siblings.  “Why are you asking me that?” “Because everyone else has here.” That was surprisingly matter of fact, for a moment Nastya felt a pang of regret that they had been rubbing off on her. But then again, the child was no stranger to death.   “Yes I have.” She answered just as matter-of-factly.      

“Do they stay in your head?”  

Now THAT was a question. Why was Jonny not here again, the one time she really needed the bastard to be useful and he’d fucked off beyond the seeking of an eight year old. She was going to murder him, he’d got (surprising everyone but her) very good at dealing with Lily’s questions about things like this.  

“No, not anymore.” She paused, that wasn’t entirely true. “Well, the first person I killed did stay for years.”  

“Oh.”  

“Why?”  

“I killed people too.”  

“No, you killed Jonny, that doesn’t count.”  

“It does!”  

“He got back up again though.”  

“The others didn’t.”  

This was something new. Was Lily saying she killed others on her ship? There was no way it was any of the raiders she killed, if she had her nightmares would be different. From what the others had said, almost all of her nightmares were about her fear of those raiders coming back and attacking the Aurora. So obviously she still feared them and hadn’t killed any of them to take that power from them.  

So.  

Had she had to mercy kill her own people? Could she? There was a core of steel in this child. Enough that Jonny had feared when she first joined them that she would be lost to vengeance.  

But Lily had been naught but condensed sunshine during the day and was clearly working through her nightmares during the night, mostly with Jonny and sometimes the others but they’d all been along the same theme.  

Why now did it have to be different? She was absolutely going to murder Jonny and throw him out of the airlock, consequences be damned.  

“What others?”  

“The ones of my ship.” Explained the child.  

“You didn’t kill them Lily.” Stated Nastya as firmly as she could.  

“I did.”  

“No—”  

“I didn’t help them.” Pressed the increasingly upset little girl, “They said so.”  

Nastya swallowed.  

“It’s my fault.”  

Oh not a chance.  

Nastya physically turned Lily in her lap to face her.  

“What did you say?”  

“I said it was my fault.” Came Lily’s surprisingly defiant response.  

That sparked an unexpected jolt in the engineer. “How? How is it your fault?”  

“I didn’t help.” Lily declared firmly, “I hid and stayed quiet and they died. They all died. They all died horribly. Screaming and crying and all I did was hide. I stuffed my sleeve in my mouth so they wouldn’t hear me and hid. I let them all die, all the gunshots and tears and fires.”  

Lily’s eyes welled with her own tears once again.  

“I didn’t come out until they’d been gone a long time and everything was dark and quiet.”  

Her voice was beginning to wobble.  

Nastya was unwillingly dragged back to the palace. The roars of the mob, the sound of shattering glass and crackling wood as the fire began to greedily consume her home, everything was sharp and petrichor, the tang of copper heavy on her tongue.  

She knew what that child had faced, at least, she knew a flavour and she’d been over double Lily’s age when it had happened. She had fought back but only after the fact, after being mortally wounded, terror forcing her blood out of her louder and faster with every desperate beat of her gasping heart. If only she’d  known  it was the last  time   she   know  the feel of true warmth.  

Maybe she would have tried to say no to Carmilla.  

As if that would have stopped her.  

Still, there had been Jonny who held her those first nights, Jonny who’d found her her coat (and kept it in good repair for her despite all his protestations to the contrary) and gave her the first sense of warmth and safety she felt in those confusing and agonising first weeks.  

Whether it was the pain of her body, slowly acclimatising to the quicksilver or the wrenching pain of loss and guilt, feeling that she should have died with them all, that she should have tried to protect them she was wracked with it for months. Or maybe years. It was hard to tell in those early times.  

Jonny had introduced her to whiskey and got her drunk on it in a well-meant effort to help her cope and make her feel warm inside. She appreciated the warmth but not the hangover that made her wish she could truly die. She drank in moderation after that. It still helped ward off the sense of cold and misery to an extent, but sleeping in the vents, wrapped up in her coat and Jonny’s arms as they hid eased her the most. She’d never been all that close with her blooded brothers and now, well, her blood and his heart were a match, they adopted each other wordlessly and without ceremony.  

Nastya paused, it was funny in a way, that Jonny, of all of them, was the one that could and did provide comfort when it was desperately needed.  Oh  he was much younger when it was just the two of them, he was far more the frightened boy to her frightened girl, gone to space too young and become immortal without the understanding what that truly meant than he was now, bitter and jaded and calloused to the universe but he’d still been  there  and he’d protected her when he had no reason to. He could have tried to direct  all of  Carmilla’s attention on to her, the new plaything and spare himself. But he didn’t. He cared and he  protected  and he loved even if he didn’t admit it. He built up quite the guard over the centuries when more and more people kept being added and hurt and he couldn’t stop it. He tried anyway. He was still the first on the scene to console each new addition to the crew when that had generally been appreciated. Apart from Tim.  

But he became colder and harder and more indifferent on the surface and seethed inside with each passing year and each new addition.  

She knew it was by sheer luck that it was Jonny Lily had shot, she probably would have launched herself at whomever she’d killed and then sat back up and Nastya wasn’t sure that Jonny would have been anywhere near as accepting if it wasn’t him she attached herself to, more for Lily’s sake than anything else. She wasn’t an annoying child so no real risk of her being shot but still, Jonny probably would have fought harder to leave her somewhere safe with decent people and not them. She was a good kid after all. But he’d got attached the second he failed to shoot her and she’d clung on. He still, despite everything, couldn’t refuse a hug when it was sorely needed. Even if he never admitted or telegraphed it.  

Lily probably had no real idea how lucky she was, having Jonny on side was like having an admittedly annoying but ferocious and lethal guard dog to protect you. Anyone he deemed as ‘his’ was under that protection. He could mess with those people as much as he wanted but the second there was a real threat, an actual, credible danger to ‘his’ people and Jonny could turn all his violent chaotic bastardry into pure, vengeful murder.  

But also, Lily apparently gave him permission to show that secret softness he hid pretty well most days to the point it had just become accepted that Jonny had a gentle side that he could and did use with Lily. It was nice to see again after so long.  

She’d missed this side of him being as apparent. He saved his real smiles for her which she cherished but still, it was few and far between. Lily had been good for everyone, even if Nastya wasn’t sure exactly how to interact with her. They had such a lot in common in some ways and in others? Completely alien.  

Maybe it was better to focus on their shared love of the first mate, (Never Captain, that was Carmilla and no one should ever be associated with her reign no matter how much he protested.) rather than their entries into orphanhood.  

But first. Lily was upset and it was an upset she unfortunately knew far too well.  

“ Сладости , Lily, look at me.”  

The child reluctantly raised her eyes to meet Nastya’s.  

“We have talked about this before, what you did, hiding in the vents was not only good but it was the right thing to do, your parents put you there for a reason, they wanted you to survive.”  

“But, but—”  

��No, no if’s or buts.” Interupted Nastya in her best, ‘Jonny-I-am-not-accepting-a-single-word-of-your-nonsense-right-now’ voice, “Knowing what you know now about guns and ballistics from Tim do you think you could have stopped them?”  

“No.” Lily conceded, wilting a little.  

“Do you think, knowing what you do now about piloting, angles and speeds from Brian you or anyone on your crew could have got the ship away from the raiders in time?”  

“No.” she shrank a little further.  

“Do you think, knowing what you know now about hull integrity from Aurora and I that could have found a way of stopping them before they breached your ship?”  

“No.” She curled up closer to Nastya as the facts rolled over her. Nastya found herself rubbing the child’s back consolingly, being told you’re wrong is always hard, even if it’s for your own good in the long run and she was still small and Nastya wasn’t beyond giving comfort when it was needed.    

“So I don’t see what the problem is Lily, there was nothing you could have done. It took a lot of courage just to stay alive in the aftermath long enough for us to find you. You were incredibly brave.”  

“But they don’t believe me.” Lily all but whispered.  

“Who don’t?”  

“My crew, my old crew, they’re in my nightmares, they blame me for not helping, that I shouldn’t have left them. That I’ve betrayed them by coming to live with you all.”  

A stream of creative Cyberian cursing torrented across her brain. Nastya took a deep breath and continued to curse Jonny for not being here with her for this. She didn’t want to talk about this, had avoided it for a very long time.  

“I felt the same way.” She admitted in as firm a voice as she could manage.  

Lily perked up immediately, sitting up to face Nastya, “You did?”  

“Yes. Where I am from, there was an uprising. My, my father was not a kind man and he had responsibility over a lot of people. He didn’t treat them well and eventually they realised there were more of them than the people in charge. They attacked our home, they wanted to kill us all. I saw them murder my brothers, my mother and my father and all the people who’d surrounded me since birth. I was older than you, I was 19 at the time but I was so scared Lily, I ran, I got attacked by someone who I thought cared about me. I killed him in self-defence but it broke my heart, he wounded me very badly. After Jonny rescued me I saw their faces in my dreams night after night, accusing me of being a coward, that I should have died with my family.”  

Nastya paused trying to gather the right words to try and get across in the simplest terms she could.  

“And you know what?” she continued.  

“What?”  

“That was my mind lying to me.” And oh, didn’t that feel good to say out loud?  Nasyta  hadn’t realised she needed this for herself even after centuries and continued with more emphasis.  

“My mind was lying to me,” she expanded, “it was the guilt talking, nothing more. Guilt is a natural emotion in events like these, you want to help people you care about but sometimes there is absolutely nothing you can do, no matter how much you wish it. You can tie yourself up in knots about it, you can tear yourself apart over it but it doesn’t matter. You won’t change what happened.”  

Nastya raised a hand carefully and after hesitating a moment, carded her hand gently through Lily’s wild and sleep-mussed hair. It was approaching her shoulders now, as she’d pointed out proudly every so often because she was trying to grow it as long as Raphaella’s.  

“Lily, I need you to listen very carefully to me.” The little girl fixed Nastya with her huge blue eyes. “Those things you see in your dreams, they’re not your friends, they’re not your family. They are lies. You feel guilty and that’s normal, that’s alright, but you can’t let it rule you, you can’t let their lies in. Your mother and father wanted you to live, they wanted you to live with every fibre of their beings because if they didn’t they would have held you close when the raiders came. You need to understand the hardest thing a parent can do is to push away their child to protect them. They knew how dangerous the situation was, they knew they might not survive and to increases your chances of survival the best thing they could do would be to put you out of harm’s way to and hope it was enough.”  

Lily shuffled, looking down as she sniffed. Nastya gave her a moment then tilted her little face back up to hers, she needed to take this all in.    

“And it was.” Stated Nastya.  

“Because you were clever and you were brave, you stayed still and silent and stayed alive. You gave them no cause to search the vents. You did want your parents wanted. You survived.”  

The engineer gently wiped away some of the escaping tears.  

“You survived long enough for us to find you. Do you really think your parents would want you to stay on your ship when you could leave with us?”  

Lily sniffed again, thinking about the cold, dark awfulness of her ship that slowly been smelling worse and worse and bit by bit falling apart.  

“No.” She realised, “No they’d want me safe and warm and with nice, kind people like you all.”  

Nastya didn’t think she’d ever get used to hearing herself and her crew described as ‘nice’ or ‘kind’ without a shred of sarcasm.  

“Exactly. You made the right choice in coming with us.” Actually, thinking about it, Lily didn’t so much as have a choice as ‘clung to Jonny and didn’t let go when he carried her onto Aurora’ Hmm. Well, semantics at this point.  

Nastya paused to look at Lily, really look at her, doubt creeping in because they’d assumed a lot with Lily and she’d seemingly just rolled with it, “Are you happy with us Lily?”  

Genuine shock bloomed across the child’s face as her eyes grew round in consternation, “What? Happy?  Of COURSE  I’m happy with you! You’re all so nice and kind and cuddly and you look after me and don’t ever tell me I’m small or silly and you let me do big important things! I’ve got a proper job here! I cook for you and you all spend time with me and teach me things and play with me and listen to me and there’s no fighting over things like food and you always make sure I’ve got enough. More than enough.”  

Well fuck.  

She was going to have to feed this all back to Jonny wasn’t she?  

Nastya privately was rather pleased Lily’s crew had no further claim on her, they were ill-prepared, ill-equipped, and obviously ill-suited to manage the prospect of a pioneer mission when it came to their most precious consignments. Maybe not her parents but still. From between her own and Ivy’s observations from the ship and the black box they would never have made it to their chosen destination. There were other ships as part of the  mission  but the black box recorded having lost them years previously, their engines had been damaged and they fell behind and never caught up.  

And Lily had clearly been given the impression she was bother, she was tiresome and she was constantly in the way by the other adults in her life.  

Never would Nastya have thought that the Mechanisms would make better care-givers than literally any other sentient being but apparently the universe was still full of surprises.  

“That’s good, I’m very glad to hear it. Do you understand why I asked you that?”  

Lily thought it over. “Because,  because,  I needed to think about all the good things here. About how happy you all make me and how sad I’d be if I stayed behind.”  

Thank fuck she was an intelligent and perceptive child.  

“And what do you think your mother and father would want for you?” pressed Nastya, determined to get this concept across to Lily, she didn’t deserve to have that sort of unwarranted guilt resting on her small shoulders.  

“To be happy. And safe. And feel like I belong.” She stated immediately with absolutely surety.  

The words sunk in.  

“Oh.”  

“Exactly. They would be very pleased you’ve found yourself a group of people who care about your well-being.” She took a deep breath, she wasn’t given to sharing her emotions freely with anyone but Aurora, and Jonny if really needed but Lily was a special case. “And we do Lily, very much so, you’re very important to all of us. We want you to be safe and well with us, even if we’re not always sure what to do or say, we do care about you.”  

Lily gazed at Nastya with all the sincerity of an eight year old.  

“I know. From the first night and you all hugged me even though Marius and Tim came back and some of you don’t really like hugs but you hugged me anyway because I was scared and I was sad and you didn’t have to. Thank you.”  

“You’re very welcome  Сладости .”  

“Can I hug you now please?”  

“Yes.”  

Lily carefully wrapped her arms around the engineer, taking in her scent of oil, grease and delicate musk. She didn’t get to hug Nastya often so she cherished it. “I knew you were kind, you cuddle even when it’s not your favourite thing.”  

“Well I know what it’s like to feel alone, I didn’t want you to feel like that.”  

“But you have the crew and Aurora?”  

“Not when I first joined, it was just Jonny and I.” Nastya was trying to edge carefully along the level detail she could share, they’d not talked to her about their mechanisms yet, or how they’d come to all be together on Aurora. It wasn’t her story to tell alone. That would be an all or nothing tale she felt.  

“And Aurora?”  

“And Aurora,” the engineer latched eagerly onto that as a conversation avenue, “it took me a while to learn how to listen to her before we could truly understand one another.”  

“I think I hear her singing to me sometimes, it sounds different to when she’s talking to me.”  

“That’s because you’re a clever girl and you listen well. Yes, Aurora is singing to you.”  

“She always sounds so pretty.”  

“Yes she does, she’s beautiful.”  

“Have you always been in love with her?”  

Wasn’t that a question, of course Nastya loved Aurora, she had for the longest time, her hums were comforting, warming her to her core. Being Cyberian and Aurora being a cyberian ship she could speak with Aurora from the first days, translating for Jonny when he  asked  or it was particularly pertinent. She and Aurora understood each other far deeper than words anyway, she was what filled her thoughts, gave her purpose and flooded her soul with warmth. “For a very long time, yes. She was very kind and comforting when I was first on board, I was very scared and lost even with Jonny to keep me company.”  

“He’s good at that.”  

“Yes he is.”  

“But Aurora loved you? Right at the beginning? Was it love at first sight? Like in my books?”  

It was sweet that Lily still thought like that when the universe was rarely so forgiving or amenable, “Not quite at first sight, I think love is something that builds up over time, but I believe we mutually fell in love, I with her kindness, her warmth and her spectacular grandeur.”  

“And Aurora?” The child looked up at the panelling.  

There was a deep and resonant humming that broke out around them.  

Nastya allowed her fondest smile to spread over her face, “Thank you my love, she said that she fell involve with my music, with my hands and how I use them work my violin and my tools to keep her in good repair, she says she loves how I listen, how I touch and how I care about things.”  

Lily was enraptured, “I bet she thinks you’re just as beautiful as you think she is.”  

Silver flushed Nastya’s cheeks, “That’s very kind of you.”  

“It’s true, you have such nice eyes that really smile when you see something you like or Aurora says something secret to you.”  

Aurora hummed in agreement.  

“See! I know that means she thinks I’m right!” The little girl beamed.  

It was something Nastya was very grateful for that the child was just willing to accept things, for Lily, Aurora was another adult to listen to and very much a person in her own right. It was refreshing to just be accepted without shred of confusion.  

“Quite right indeed.”  

“Does Aurora sing a lot to you?”  

“Yes she does, she has a beautiful set of sounds.”  

“Would she sing now?”  

“You’d have to ask her.”  

“Aurora? Would you sing a song please? You always sound so pretty.”  

Well how could she refuse a request like that?  

Aurora began to sing, this time a favourite of her love, soft and gentle, reverberating sonorously through her wiring and her metalwork.  

Lily was mesmerised. She leaned back against Nastya chest, soothed by both the song and the rhythmic sound of the engineer’s heartbeat.  

The weight against Nastya’s chest grew heavier and heavier until the sound of tiny snoring emanated from her ribcage.  

She sighed internally, she should have known this, Raphaella had told her how quickly Lily could fall asleep and now she couldn’t move for fear of waking her. Still, it wasn’t too bad, Lily was a little radiator and it was strangely peaceful to be the source of comfort for such a vulnerable being, a little girl that despite everything they seemed to be managing to raise to an acceptable standard. The child was happy, was building up her strength and general health now she had a proper balanced diet and obviously felt comfortable enough with all of them to come to them when needing comfort and reassurance as much as when she wanted to play or help with something. And that she’d managed to comfort Lily when it was clearly something serious bothering her was something Nastya was quietly proud of and more than a little relieved that it had obviously worked. She was rarely counselled for advice beyond Jonny and that was because he didn’t mind sharing his vulnerable side to her, she’d seen him sobbing and bloody and terrified enough to not be deterred by his defensive walls. Nor did he really try. But to help Lily? To reason well with a child? It was very new territory but one, on reflection, she found she didn’t dislike.  

Now she’d calmed down herself, soothed by the sleeping breaths of the child she remembered to be furious with Jonny for leaving her in this situation in the first place.  

Aurora noticed the hitch in her love’s breath and the flaring of her nostrils.  

She interpreted correctly, humming a question.  

Nastya Nodded.  

Aurora pinged a message to Jonny, now that the situation he was in had been resolved, to come and collect Lily.    

Jonny waltzed in roughly twenty minutes later reeking more pungently of whiskey than normal, a sloppy, sappy smile plastered across his face that spread even wider at the sight of his sister gently rocking the sleeping form of the child he was more than a little fond of.    

The engineer on seeing him went from peaceful to furious in roughly half a second.  

“Just where the fuck have you been?!” Hissed Nastya, “Lily has been having breakdown over her nightmares conjuring her dead parents and crew mates to chastise her for leaving them and having the audacity to survive.”  

All the drunkenness drained out of Jonny along with his colouring.  

“FUCK.” Sobriety hit him like a particularly colourful train, “Is she okay? She’s not had an accusing nightmare for a while.”  

“ Oh  you knew about these?” if anything Nastya’s fury deepened.  

Jonny was aware of the danger in her voice but ploughed on regardless, “I mean, yes, she tells me all her nightmares most of them are just banging noises in the dark.”  

“But sometimes she nightmares about her dead parents blaming her for their deaths?”  

“Sometimes?” Now Jonny thought about it, had it been more frequent, more recently?  

“You BASTARD.” It was impressive how much fury Nastya could convey in a whisper, “Why haven’t you told the rest of us?”  

Jonny immediately puffed up his chest in defence, “Because it’s her nightmares, not mine to share and it’s personal.” He hissed back.  

“Jonny she is EIGHT. This is serious stuff that does need sharing. And to dump it on the rest of us un-warned isn’t fair.”  

“I’ve told you the important stuff, she deserves her privacy as much as the rest of us.”  

“Jonny she is eight, not an adult, whilst it is commendable you respect her privacy there are some things that need to be shared with the rest of us, important things. Like this. THIS is important!”  

“It’s just a progression, Marius says—”  

“Fuck what Marius says, this was important and she needs to be reassured properly not just have me wing it and hope for the best.”  

Jonny grinned ruefully, “Welcome to my world, it’s a bitch isn’t it?”  

“No, I, she deserves better than that,” the engineer trailed off.  

Jonny paused to really look at Nastya, realisation dawned, taking in the paler-than-usual complexion and gentle, almost imperceptive trembling, “what’s wrong?”  

“I, she, the palace, it’s similar enough, it, brought up some memories I’d rather forget.”  

Everything clicked into place, Jonny looked horrified, immediately contrite, this was a BIG deal for Nastya after all and she hated being reminded of that time, “Fuck I’m sorry I should have—”  

Nastya was touched at his concern, it helped to calm her enough to start to regain her composure, “Actually, it was quite helpful really, I realised a few things I needed to put to bed and I think I was the voice I needed to hear when Lily’s situation was as fresh for me.”  

Jonny reached out and gently squeezed her hand in sympathy.  

“Are, are you both alright? For now?”  

“I believe so. I managed to convince Lily the words and the people who spoke them were just manifestation of guilt. Nothing more. That she did the right thing in joining us.”  

“She was questioning that?!”  

“Subconsciously. I think because she is growing more at ease here. More comfortable and settled.”  

“That’s good right?”  

“Yes, but it comes with consequences, namely questioning her loyalties to those she’s known all her life and those whom she’s only known for the past four and a half months  

“Well her people are dead, there’s not much choice there.”  

Nasyta closed her eyes, “Please tell me you’ve not put it to her like that.”  

“Of course I fucking haven’t what do you take me for?” Jonny paused, his eyes narrowing, “Do not answer that. I just tell her that her brain is lying to her because brains don’t always get things right.”  

“Huh, I said something similar.”  

He grinned at their similarities, there was reason people assumed they were siblings more often as not.  

She shared the smiled, pleased to have settled the matter and felt more at peace with herself than she had for a while, “Anyway, where have you been all evening that Aurora led her to me?”  

Jonny immediately shifted, looking awkward and closed off, “Oh, uh, nowhere.”  

Nastya cocked a single eyebrow, “Jonny. For an excellent liar this is a piss poor effort.”  

“Fine I was having a discussion.”  

“With?” she prompted, apparently he was determined to be difficult.  

“With Tim.”  

“If you have broken any more of her panelling I will gut you right here.”  

“No, it was civilised thank you very much.”  

“I do not believe it.”  

“Well we did. Go look for yourself.”  

“What could you have possibly been discussing that was reasonable?”  

“I, well, he, we—”  

“Spit it out.”  

“Fine we were discussing how he came to join the crew and the misunderstandings about it. Happy?”  

Nastya froze. That was something that Jonny had tried to do not too long after Tim had joined them and got the hang of his new vision. It had not gone well. As it was Brian and Ivy had killed the pair of them and locked them in their respective bedrooms till they calmed down. Things had escalated. Badly. Threatening-an-actual-hull-breach badly.  

Nastya hadn’t spoken to Jonny for a month.  

Then he’d come stomping down to find her to give her as much of an apology he could give her and then proceeded to rant and rave until she’d slapped him silent. Nastya was not given to laying hands on people, she didn’t like it. But Jonny had been revving up again and that was not explaining the situation.  

As it was it shocked him enough to explain himself properly. He was devastated that Tim blamed him, that he’d tried (albeit very clumsily, Jonny, for all he was a gifted wordsmith for stories struggled when orating things related to him and his own, more complex emotions) to explain that none of what happened was his choice. He wanted Tim to have his ending. That Carmilla hadn’t listened, had killed him and locked him away. By the Jonny broke out it was too late.  

Carmilla had her accident not long after.  

“Are you alright?”  

The bluntness had the effect as the slap several centuries ago and shocked the truth out of him once again.  

“Better than I thought I’d be.”    

“What happened?”  

Jonny took a breath, wanting,  needing  to share it.  

The evening had been normal, less murder-filled since it was getting close to 1am and that was prime Lily nightmare-time. They’d been making cracks at how Lily kept Jonny in better time than their music, a complete lie but intentionally teasing.  

Then someone made a crack about  newfound  responsibility.  

And Jonny had responded that he always was  responsible,  but he just wasn’t appreciated.  

Tim had commented that he was only responsible when it suited him with more bite than had been in his voice previously.  

Jonny rose to it, snapping that he was always keeping an eye out for the crew.  

Tim bit back about only looking out for  this  crew.  

The others went quiet, poised for violence.  

Jonny immediately hit back at who the fuck else was he supposed to look out for?  

Too late the first mate realised what Tim was getting at, too late he realised that Tim had been cleaning Bertie’s gun, which he only did when he was specifically thinking about the Lunar war and what had happened.  

Building the fort with Lily had clearly stirred up memories.  

Tim promptly erupted, getting right up in Jonny’s face.  

Spewing the words he’d obviously been festering for centuries.  

“You only care when it directly relates to  you   selfish  bastard! If Lily had latched on to anyone  else  you’d have been the first to say we dump her! It’s only when you have a benefit out of it!  So  don’t you dare try to pretend you  actually give  a fuck about any of us, it’s just that we all can’t really leave, not permanently, so we have to endure each other!”  

“Don’t you DARE talk about Lily like that, she’s as much your kid as she is mine or anyone else’s! It was you she spent the best part of the last four days building a fort with, not fucking me!  So  don’t you dare! I care about all of you ungrateful bastards, I  have to ! You’re MY crew.”  

Tim punched him square in the jaw.  

The Mechanisms didn’t usually resort to physical violence, usually it was just gunshot, immolation or whatever Raphaella had concocted that week.  

As such it caught Jonny off guard, forcing him to stagger backwards.  

“There! You see! YOUR crew! It’s all about you!  We’re our own people. We’re not beholden to you and you’re lying to yourself like always if you think anything different!”  

Jonny spat out blood and snarled at Tim through gory teeth, “I don’t mean it like that you wanker! And you know it! I’m not HER!”  

“But you helped her!”  

The room dropped about 10 degrees.  

“What did you say?” Jonny’s voice had gone dangerously quiet. Everyone else in the room tensed to leap into intervene, the last time these two got like this they filled the room with so much gun fire it nearly penetrated the outer hull.  

Tim didn’t back down in the face of Jonny’s icy fury, “I said, You. Helped. Her.”  

Jonny was suddenly on Tim, fists in his coat and slammed him against the wall, hard enough to make the gunner’s teeth rattle. Jonny might be shorter than Tim but he was strong.  

“You take that back you piece of shit.”  

“No.” Spat Tim.  

Jonny slammed him against the wall again before he held Tim with one hand and the other snatched for his six- shooter . Then he remembered the proximity to Lily-horror-hours and visibly tried to calm down and withdrew his hand from his holster.  

Tim followed his movement and stopped in his tracking to do the same. Couldn’t be shooting and waking Lily, kid needed her sleep after all, she’d worked hard building all day.  

“Because it’s the truth isn’t it?” He continued, glaring at Jonny, faces barely 6 inches apart, “It wasn’t enough to fuck with me on the moon—”  

“I tried to stop him! You KNOW I did!” Exploded Jonny, “I couldn’t get to the grenade in time, I TRIED to out-run him but he was faster and I was still regenerating from the lasers!”  

“You should have told us!”  

The words knocked the rage right out of him, he let go of Tim, backing away, “Yes.” He conceded, sincerity pouring into his words, “I should have. I’m sorry.”  

Tim stared dumbly as Jonny spoke the words he’d wanted to say for over three centuries. Apparently soothing Lily almost every night had given him some practice at actually communicating some emotions.    

“I didn’t want Bertie to die.” Now Jonny had said those words he’d apparently broken some sort of dam and the words kept coming, “I didn’t want you to die. I wanted you both to survive the fucking war and go home. You two were the nearest thing I’d had to real friends for CENTURIES. I wanted you both to have a fucking happy ever after for once.”  

“Then WHY?!” Tim all but screamed.    

“Why did I help her make you into one of us?” Jonny glared at Tim, if there was a sheen to his eyes then he’d deny it for eternity.  

“I didn’t.” He let the words hang there for effect before ploughing on.  

“I never wanted this for anyone, not one of you fuckers. No one deserves this. No one. I begged her, I fought her, I fought against the bio-programming to try and stop her. She shot me. She shot me so much I woke up locked in a store cupboard a week later and when I finally broke out it was too fucking late.” Jonny sighed, finding himself sadder that he’d allowed himself to feel for a long time, “I’m sorry Tim, really, I never wanted this for you.”  

He ran a hand over his face suddenly feeling every single year he’d lived weighing down on him.  

The others, having frozen in place, poised to haul them away from each other like they had to do over three centuries ago relaxed, now they’d clearly calmed down a bit, that they’d not drawn weapons and that Jonny fucking  apologised .  

Well.  

Things were obviously going to get all  feelingsy  and out of a sense of decorum for some and not being drunk enough to deal with another outpouring of emotions for others the crew that had been present quietly left, ignored by the first mate and master-at-arms.  

“So that’s it, carry on fucking hating me, that’s fine, don’t break the habit of centuries, it doesn’t matter anyway but don’t you fucking  dare think I helped her or had anything to do with it. None of us did. She plucked you from space when she was scooping me and TS up from the debris. Decided to ‘fix’ you up like she did the rest of us poor fuckers. I tried to stop her, tried to deflect, to convince her to let you die but she realised I cared about you. So she did exactly what she wanted. I'm sorry she used you, sorrier than you'll ever fucking know.”  

The first mate straightened his back to cover a sniff, “Now if you’re done, I’m going to go check on Lily because I do, in fact, care about her like I care about the rest of you bastards.”  

He made to move away. Jonny got three paces before a slender hand gripped his shoulder.  

“Jonny.”  

The first mate wheeled around.  

“What?!”  

“I, I didn’t know.” Tim was looking worryingly sincere.  

“Clearly.” Jonny didn’t really know what to do with Tim looking like that, like a grown-up version of Lily’s sad-eyes, eyes that were his natural colour, not focused on anything but him.  

“I wish I did know.”  

Oh fuck, Jonny was really not prepared for more emotion right now, “Well you do now.”  

“I mean sooner.” Pressed Tim.  

Jonny huffed, the resignation stealing most of the bite from his  words, “I  tried to tell you. I tried to tell you when you first made it out of the lab just after Carmilla had her accident.”  

Tim did a genuine double take, “That was you telling me?!”  

That riled him, “Fuck off Tim!” He snapped, “I tried! You started yelling, I started yelling, we started shooting, next thing I remember waking up locked in my bunk.”  

“Me too.” Surprisingly Tim didn’t rise to the heat in Jonny’s explosion instead  he looked  like he might be feeling a stab of regret.  

“I also remember you shooting me in the face for the next five years whenever you saw me.”  Emphasised  the first mate.  

“I did.” Tim agreed  

“And?” Prompted Jonny, his heartbeat beginning to pound in his ears, hoping he’d not mis-judged this, he was still  angry  and he was damn well going to voice  it  but he did want this to be resolved. He liked Tim despite all the relentless violence. He liked their competitions. He’d not taken to someone so quickly since Nastya and Tim (and Bertie for that matter) had been mortal. He’d liked them both. He had wanted them to be alright. If he was honest with  himself  he wanted to have that tunnels friendship again, he’d wanted a brother growing up almost as much as a sister and privately he wouldn’t have minded if that brother had been someone like Tim. It was fine if their relationship was going to stay the way it was, it had been that way for three and half centuries, it didn’t need to change, didn’t have to. But it would be nice if it could.  

Tim sighed, then fixed his stare on Jonny, utterly serious even if it looked like it was paining him to admit, “And if I’d known then I wouldn’t have.”  

That was as good as an apology he’d ever expected from Tim, “Alright then.”  

“Jonny—”  

“What Tim? What?” This was far more emotion that Jonny was really able to deal with in one evening, “I’ve said my piece, I should have said it years ago, I should have tried again before now, I didn’t. I’m sorry for that but I don’t know what else you want from me.”  

“Thank you.” It looked both painful and alien for the words to cross his lips but the master-at-arms  said  them all the same. “I’m, I’m, I’m sorry I thought you’d been involved.” For the first time in years Tim actually looked awkward.  

“Good.” Jonny had no framework of reference for this, the last time they’d been this honest and open was in the tunnels before Bertie died and most of that was now a purposely hazy memory.  “I, er, I’m sorry I gave you that impression.” He offered, hoping that was the right thing to say.  

“Do you—” Tim hesitated.  

“Do I what?” Jonny have never quite understood the phrase walking on eggshells until that exact moment thought it was more like breathing around eggshells. He felt horribly powerless that the next thing out of Tim’s mouth might dictate how they interacted for the next ever.  

“Do you want to get very drunk and accept that this happened and we’re alright but we never have to talk about it again?”  

Jonny breathed a huge sigh of relief, “Fucking YES.” He began to grin before a thought caught him, “Wait, Lily, I’ve got to—”  

A screen descended from the ceiling.  

  ‘If you are seeking Lily  Jonny, she is safe with Nastya next to the engine room. They’re both in deep conversation and are fine, I will notify you when you need to take her to bed.’

Well it was nice that Aurora acknowledged that there was no way Lily was moving off from Nastya once there, the child was like a limpet and once comforted it was like she had an off switch that just flicked the second she was feeling safe and secure again.  

He felt bad he’d missed her getting  up  but this really needed to be said and he was glad they’d had the chance to finally clear things up between them. It had only been several centuries in the reckoning.  

Still, if she was still talking to Nastya then that gave him and Tim at least an hour. No point disturbing her when she’d just fallen asleep after all. Plus, it was good she was talking to Nastya, she needed to talk to the engineer more, Lily spent the least amount of time with Nastya so it was nice she was there. And he really wanted to drink with Tim, it had been a long time when it was just them and the air actually felt clear. Ironically it was in the gas-filled tunnels.  

The two men read the notice and shared a look.  

“Whiskey?”  

“Whiskey.”  

He was grateful that whilst he wasn’t drinking to his previous capacity he could still drink Tim under the table.  

Which was why when Aurora summoned him later into the night he still had enough nouse about him to be able to ease Tim back against the sofa and cover him with his great coat that he’d shucked earlier and make his way down to where his sister and charge were waiting without too much stumbling.  

“So you and Tim have made up?”  

Jonny grimaced, “Don’t say it like that.”  

“Like what?”  

“Like we’ve had some sort of lover’s tiff.”  

“Well…”  

Jonny’s face morphed in a deep scowl, “Fuck off Nastya. You two are the only couple here and you know this needed sorting for years.”  

The engineer sombered, she did in fact know, knew how much it had eaten at Jonny over the years on top of everything else till he grew cold and indifferent, thinking it one last curse from Carmilla to endure.  

“It did, you’re right, and I’m glad. Really. For you and Tim. And Aurora that there’ll be less damage inflicted by the pair of you.”  

“I make no promises.”  

“You will not like the consequences.” promised the engineer.  

Jonny smirked, “No but I enjoy the challenge.”  

“You are such a bastard.”  

“Always,” he agreed easily, “you love me anyway.”  

Nastya rolled her eyes and huffed, looking thoroughly unimpressed, “You are a blight on my life and I despise everything you stand for.”  

His smirk deepened, “I know, I know,” before he allowed the soft smile he saved for Nastya and more recently Lily to bloom across his face instead as he stepped carefully into Nastya’s space and pressed a gentle kiss to her head, leaning against her wrapping his arms around her, lending yet more warmth to her.  

“Thanks for looking after her.” He mumbled against her hair.  

“Well, she’s as much my responsibility as yours to care for.” Admitted Nastya, allowing the affection she felt for Lily flow through her, feeling far more connected now than she ever had before.  She squeezed his hand, enjoying the tenderness. It was still quite rare between them, especially in the last few centuries, and it had been an emotional night for them all.  

Aurora continued to sing, low and warm and loving as the siblings and their child just breathed together and were.