#I wish I had garden or balcony so I could smoke things...

[silkspiderrr]

Smoked chicken and hummus is very high on my list of low effort snacks

[rainybubbles]

10 A.M- Ghost x plus size reader

-Summary : Every day on leave Ghost watches his neighbor at 10AM during his smoke break. Will it lead to more ? (yes, especially with Johnny involed.)

-(Sorry in advance, English is not my first language, so sorry if it's bad or OOC. And I've posted it on ao3 months ago, so it's normal if you feel like a déjà vu)

-10 am. The ballet was starting.

-A foot missing a step, a groan of pain, clothes thrown on the ground, and an apple bitten into hastily. Breakfast was beginning, and the curtain rose, giving Simon the perfect view of his neighbor's daily spectacle across the landing.

-Eyes so sunken they rivaled his own, hands with nails cut short—Simon wondered why so short, perhaps their job? A habit? And their body, all curves.

-That's what had caught his attention in the hallway the first time.

-Such a ominous building welcoming such a pure ray of sunshine like them, Simon couldn't help but bask in their warmth from the shadows.

-A glint in a corridor had eventually become a routine. When Simon smoked on his balcony, they would open their curtains, and slowly, without knowing it, their routines became intertwined at certain hours of the day, briefly filling Simon's respites with a bit of humanity.

-"What are ye lookin’ at?"

-"Nothing that concerns you, Johnny."

-"L.T, come on." Johnny, curious, stepped onto the balcony, but they were already gone.

-"I’ve put up with you enough, stop pokin’ your nose in."

-"Ye volunteered when Price asked who could help me with my cast during our leave. Because Gaz was with his fiancée and Price with his sister. That's friendship."

-"Pity," Ghost corrected him.

-"It still means I make ye feel things, L.T."

-"Yes, and it's exasperation."

-"Seriously, what were ye starin’ at? I mean, apart from the poor garden, there's nothin’."

-Simon ignored him. One word and he knew what Johnny would say.

-"Talk to them. You have nothing to lose."

-Worse, the Scotsman might set up a situation where he'd end up stuck in an elevator with them. The explosives expert knew much more about physics and math than he let on.

-"By th’ way, have ye ever had someone in yer life, L.T.?"

-“…”

-"I see, we're playin’ neither yes nor no?"

-"We're playin’ 'no personal questions.'"

-"I'll tak’ that as a yes. Ah wonder whit yer type is? Redhead? Blonde? Brunette? Tall? Short? Or maybe brown, green, blue, gray eyes?"

-"People who don't ask questions."

-"Damn, rejected like that."

-"That's enough, Johnny."

-"Okay, I… would ye introduce me if ye ever had someone in yer life, no?"

-"No."

-"What?! Come on, I'm adorable!"

-"And invasive."

-"I left a sock lyin’ around one time." Soap remembered the incident.

-"In a frying pan."

-"It was an accident."

-Ghost sighed. His gaze shifted to the window; damn, he wished he could catch a glimpse of them for a moment, to gain some strength. As if his prayer had been heard, the window opened, their head appeared, watering their plants.

-"I see, so it wasn't just a cigarette," Johnny said with a smug smile.

-Unfortunately, that also meant they'd just watered trouble for Ghost.

-"Johnny."

-"I'm just saying they’re beautiful, that's all."

-"Not a word."

-"So… the curves?"

-"Johnny," Simon repeated, annoyed.

-"Okay, not a word."

-A silence fell, but Simon couldn't stand Soap's trembling leg.

-"One question." He eventually gave in.

-"How long?"

-"None."

-"What?"

-"We're not dating."

-"So a crush, huh?"

-"We're not in high school anymore."

-"But ye have a crush on yer neighbor like a teenager."

-"Johnny," Simon warned him.

-Soap backed off before grinning smugly.

-"I get it, I'd be the same if they were my neighbor, they seem cute," he added

-"Johnny, damn it," Ghost sighed, his cheeks slightly tinged with red.

-Soap laughed.

-"It's cute. I guess ye won't talk tae them?"

-"No. Not with our profession, not with my personality. they deserve better."

-"Even fur one night?"

-"I don't want a one-night stand, not with them."

-"I see, condemned to yearn, a wee bit sad."

-Simon didn't reply; it was his routine. Observe, analyze, and act. His strategy had been clear from the start: do nothing.

-So he finished his cigarette, hoping it would be 10 am again soon to relive this peaceful anticipation. The sun set, and it all began again.

-5 am, wake up. 6 am, jogging. 7 am, back, ready to take a shower and face Johnny.

-"Oh, sorry."

-But sometimes routines break. Simon watched his neighbor, struggling to move a too-heavy piece of furniture up the stairs.

-"Can I help you?"

-"I… I don't want to bother you, especially since you just came back from exercising—"

-"It's nothing."

-He carried what looked like a wardrobe to their landing.

-"Thanks again. I… I don't know if you knew, but we're neighbors. My name's y/n, I moved in there after Matilda. I know they wasn't… well-liked?"

-"We could say that."

-"No need to downplay it; I know they threw tomatoes at all the doors, ripped up their garbage on all the landings, and dismantled a door by mistake."

-"Hm."

-"I mean, at 80, it's impressive," y/n laughed.

-"For sure," he chuckled.

-"So, you're Smith, right?"

-Oh yes, the fake name on his mailbox.

-"Yeah."

-"Well, thank you, Mr. Smith. Honestly, I don't know how I would've managed without you. I told my roommate that having such a big wardrobe was pointless, but they never listens to me."

-"Roommate?"

-"Yeah, she lives with me. their name's Léa, maybe you've met her? Tall, blonde."

-"Hm."

-"She always wakes up late, and I wake up early, so we kind of live in the dark in the apartment, like real vampires. Perhaps you know her ?"

-"Thank you, Léa," Simon thought. Without her, he'd never catch sight of y/n on their balcony.

-"No, I don't think so."

-"I see. Do you have a roommate too?"

-"At the moment, yes, but it's temporary."

-"Oh, I see, a friend crashing. Happens."

-"Actually, he takes care o’ me," a voice said.

-If Simon could slow down his reaction, he'd be sure to see panic. Johnny, smiling, approached and introduced himself.

-"John, nice tae meet ye. This big guy keeps an ee on me, wi’ ma broken arm."

-"Oh, I see, that's not easy. Nice to meet you."

-"Ye ken, I was plannin’ tae make some muffins; I thought if ye like them, we could maybe give ye some since this guy doesnae like sweet stuff."

-"Johnny."

-"What, you don't like them?" y/n asked, surprised.

-"I… it's not my thing, that's all."

-"I see," y/n smiled. "Why not, okay, well, I mean don't poison us, but okay."

-"I'm no’ sure that would convince anyone no’ tae poison ye," John replied.

-"Maybe, but does it work on you?"

-"Aye," Johnny laughed.

-y/n thanked them and closed their door. Soap, with a victorious smile, looked at Simon.

-"Don't start."

-"We're makin’ progress, L.T, recon mission wit’ introduction."

-"This isn't a mission."

-"Of course, it is. Gaz agrees wi’ me."

-"Gaz knows?!"

-"It's the 21st century, L.T, phones are magical."

-"No."

-"By the way, if they ask for yer number, ye'll have to give them one that's not disposable…"

-"There won't be a number."

-"I bet there will be; they seem nice."

-"They thanked me for a favor; it's just politeness."

-"If ye say so."

-"Nothing's going to happen, Johnny."

-"We'll see."

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

-"I was thinking we should exchange numbers! It's always handy, for dog sitting, plant watering, breakdowns, broken showers, or anything else."

-Soap looked at him triumphantly. Certainly, it wasn't y/n asking, but Léa, after accepting their muffins and inviting them inside. But Soap saw the papers with the two different numbers, indicating that y/n's was included.

-"For sure, but isn't a roommate kind o’ a hassle? I mean, I remember wi’ other folk’s boyfriends an’ girlfriends, it can get awkward," Soap asked.

-"For that, there would have to be some," Simon replied.

-"What dae ye mean?" "Well, I'm not interested, and y/n… they…"

-Léa seemed hesitant.

-"New acquaintances aren't really their thing, with social anxiety, you know."

-Simon raised an eyebrow. they had seemed so calm. He was also accustomed to social avoidance, so y/n's reaction to him surprised him, unless they had grown accustomed to his presence before. But that would mean he was a familiar face to them. Which would imply…

-That at 10 am, he wasn't the only one watching.

-A warm feeling filled his heart.

-"Why are ye smiling?" Soap murmured as they returned to his apartment. "It's bad news if they's as bad as you at talking, you'll be together when Price runs out of beanies to wear."

-"Hm, if you say so."

-"L.T, tell me, I ken ye ken something."

-"Soap, it's none of your business."

-"The code name, really?"

- "Johnny."

- "Simon."

-Neither broke eye contact; Johnny eventually sighed and raised his only free hand in surrender. Ghost nodded.

-He looked forward to the next 10 am.

________________________________

-At 10 am, with a cigarette in his mouth, they were there. their eyes on their hands. He smiled. Target acquired. How could he have missed it?

-Using his hands, he executed a slight sign of recognition. they jumped, surprised he had noticed them; he smirked. they responded with a hand waving back. He signaled for them to open the window.

-"Nice view?" he asked.

-"On such a shabby garden, no," they replied, ignoring his implication.

-"I meant the neighborhood.”

-"Well, not everyone can have a balcony."

-"Or a pretty neighbor."

-"I—"

-"Have a good day, y/n." He went back inside.

-Nothing will happen, my ass, Soap muttered as he watched him.

_______________________________

-Slowly, it became his game. Spotting y/n, signaling to them, and lightly flirting.

-It was nothing. Just a game of cat and mouse, that's all. It wouldn't lead to anything, he kept telling himself. But every day he waited for them.

-Praying that Price wouldn't call him. But apparently this time his thoughts weren't heard; Soap was sent to the base under someone else's watch, and Price called him for a mission. 10 a.m. should wait.

____________________

-"Mr. Smith?"

-Tired. Covered in mud, smelling of powder. Simon was back after three months, his eyes empty, his face covered, only his eyes remained. y/n stood in the hall, in pajamas, letters in hand, probably looking for their mail at... 1 a.m.? Who would do that?

-"y/n.”

-“ Everything alright? You're soaked. You know if you have a dryer problem, we have one."

-"Everything's fine."

-"I see. I... I got worried because I didn't see you around, I wondered if something happened to you."

-His cowardly heart quickened at this concern.

-"It was nothing, just work."

-"I see, you travel a lot then."

-"Yeah, you could say that."

-"Must be tiring, never... feeling at home, right?"

-Simon couldn't get a word in. He had never thought about it, in his childhood home, his sanctuary, he had never thought about it as his home, so as he grew up, he had no attachment to a place.

-"Not really."

-"Not a homebody?"

-"Yeah, but just a bit."

-"I... sorry, I'm asking questions while you're exhausted, I'm really sorry."

-"No need to apologize, such a pretty face coming home erases all fatigue."

-they frowned their eyebrows..

-"Do you mean that or is it for Léa?"

-Simon was surprised by the sharper tone.

-"Léa?"

-"If you want to get closer to Léa, please don't use me. I... honestly, all this flirting is confusing, if it's her, then don't use me."

-"I don't want Léa."

-"Oh." y/n paused, “then why?"

-"I don't know, why do people flirt, y/n?"

-"You."

-"Me."

-"So all this time..."

-"I'm eagerly waiting for 10 a.m., y/n."

-"I-, I'm sorry, I just thought you really liked Léa, I let my insecurities take over without even thinking about that, and I apologize for that."

-"No worries, now everything is clear. Goodnight y/n and see you tomorrow morning."

-"See you tomorrow morning, Mr. Smith."

-"Simon."

-"Hm?"

-"Call me Simon."

-Maybe Soap was right; he knew from the beginning that this wouldn't just be a flirt.

______________________________

-At 10 a.m., Simon noticed a blanket on his balcony. Hand-knitted with a post-it.

-"I'm not there today, but you seemed cold in the morning, so welcome back and have a good day."

-Slowly, he took the soft fabric. Draping it over his shoulders, he closed his eyes, letting the nicotine escape from his mouth.

-He knew he shouldn't. A part of him screamed not to trust, to flee. But he was so tired. He, too, wanted to go home and have that smile.

-Suddenly, the blanket felt too cold, the nicotine too bitter, and the balcony too narrow.

-What was he doing dreaming of a normal life?

-Simon was officially dead, flesh living for a task force. He shouldn't even think of the hope of surviving long. He had given up on that. Slowly, he placed the blanket back on the balcony. The window was closing. He decided that maybe the 10 a.m. breaks weren't a good idea.

___________________________

-"You ken, it's no’ Pokémon, L.T."

-"Johnny," Ghost calibrated his rifle as the car swerved through the bends.

-"What's he talking about?" Gaz, in uniform beside them, ready for the mission, asked.

-"Our dear L.T. fled like a Pokémon facin’ its neighbor."

-"My life is none of your business."

-"Ye're missin’ something extraordinary, obviously. They just told ye it's mutual, an’ there ye are, runnin’ away. Imagine what ye’re sayin’ tae them."

-"It's better for them."

-"Coward."

-Simon looked away. It was better this way. Proof was, he was off again to risk his life for two months. No one wanted a life like this.

-y/n didn't know about Ghost, didn't know about the PTSD, about Tommy, about Joseph. He was just the slightly mysterious neighbor from the balcony.

-"They know nothing, it's better this way."

-"Maybe he's right, Soap. Some people aren't meant to be with soldiers," Gaz tried to reason.

-"He's just using runnin’ away as a defense mechanism, Gaz."

-Simon ignored the rest. The voices were blurring. He had to stay away from y/n; their warmth could burn him if he got too close.

_______________________

-Dead.

-He held the dead girl's body in his arms.

-Riddled with bullets, their poor little hands weakly holding onto Ghost's uniform in a last hope for life.

-The blood on his hands wouldn't go away. He washed, scrubbed, scraped, over and over.

-The blood remained on his hands.

-He had to save them.

-He had failed.

-The mission was a success.

-But everyone was dead.

-The coldness of the body wouldn't go away.

-The shower didn't help; no matter how hard he scrubbed, increasing the heat, nothing could rid him of the horror.

-His breathing wouldn't calm, his vision darkening, his legs trembling.

-He knew what was happening.

-Slowly he sat on the floor, the sound of water deafening, his ears ringing, the hot and cold alternating in his body, sweat increasing. A panic attack.

-"One, two, three." He repeated. Trying to calm himself, he began counting again. One, two, three.

-But the numbers tangled, and the memories seemed so real. The girl's body seemed to be at his feet. He knew it was impossible; he was in a shower, in a terrible apartment, not on the battlefield. But nothing could be done about it.

-"Mr. Smith?"

-Everything shattered. His bubble burst, and suddenly reality hit him. Getting up, staggering, he grabbed a towel and walked to his front door out of habit.

-"Yes?" he managed to say, his hoarse voice scratching his throat.

-"I'm sorry to interrupt, but our shower exploded, and I was wondering if you knew about it or if you could let me borrow yours because I... I'm a bit covered in ink."

-He opened his door completely, and...

-y/n, hands covered in blue ink, even their nose staring at him wide-eyed. Remembering his attire consisting only of a towel, he closed the door.

-"I'll get dressed and be right there."

-"Yes, I- sorry again, I didn't know you were in the shower."

-He didn't reply. Damn it, he had promised not to let their into his life.

-Putting on a hoodie and sweatpants, he opened his door.

-"On the left at the back." He indicated in a slightly dry tone. His thoughts still roughed up after his panic attack.

-Noticing that y/n wasn't moving, he frowned.

-"I wanted to know if I offended you? I don't know if I'm imagining something, but it looks like you're avoiding me?"

-Not as discreet as he thought.

-"I was busy."

-"I see. If I offended you anyway, I apologize."

-"It's not your fault, y/n."

-"Oh."

-"Just... shitty job."

-"PTSD?"

-Simon stopped.

-"The walls are thin, you can hear the girl from the fifth floor sneezing, so you can imagine that your screams at night..." She added.

-"I see."

-"My father had it too, if you ever need help, well not psychological help, that's more for a therapist, but support, I can." y/n said anxiously.

-He blew air out of his nose.

-"Military father?"

-"Cop," they replied.

-Simon noticed the underlying tension.

-"Not on good terms?"

-"Few people get along with their father, right?"

-"Some do."

-"Do you?"

-"No."

-They smiled.

-"To rotten fathers, then.

-“To rotten fathers. Now I suppose you should hurry if you don't want the ink to dry on your hands."*

- "Oh shit, yeah."

-Y/n rushed into the shower. When they returned a few moments later, Simon watched them.

-"Any reason for this ink explosion?"

-"It's ridiculous,”they said, but Simon motioned for them to sit down.

-"Go ahead."

- "I like... tattooing. I don't have the talent, but I like to try tattooing fake skins in my spare time, but my blue ink exploded so I tried to use the shower but it looks like we have a plumbing problem."

-"Tattooing?"

-"Yeah, but it's nothing crazy, just a hobby."

-He nodded.

-"Well, I'll get going." they murmured.

-Ghost wanted to hold their back. His hand reaching out reflexively, he thought better of it.

_______________________________

-"So?"

-"So what? Didn't you listen to Price during the briefing?" Ghost replied to Soap.

-"Ah’m nae talkin’ about that, but the GIL mission."

-"Gil?"

-"Ghost in love."

-"I'm not in love."

-"Hmm, so nae progress wi’ the neighbor?"

-"Soap."

-The Scot stopped. Feeling the blue-eyed gaze not leaving him for a moment, Ghost sighed.

-"We talked again."

-"Ah!"

-“Shower problem, they needed one."

-"Is that it?"

-"We're neighbors."

-"That's disappointin’."

-"Thanks, Johnny." Ghost replied sarcastically.

-Simon spared the details. It wasn't just a shower, but a shower during the two weeks of leave he had had.

-With the plumber unable to find the problem, y/n and Léa had somewhat cohabited with Simon for that brief moment. Maybe... he had shared more teas with y/n than he admitted.

-Even if he wanted to flee, to shut himself off, to reject y/n, he crawled for a crumb of their attention.

_____________

-Returning from his mission, Simon walked through the hall when he heard it. Cries echoing in the corridor.

-His landing.

-Knowing that Madeline, the other neighbor on the landing, couldn't cry due to death, it was either Léa or y/n.

-Approaching, he noticed a silhouette sitting on the doormat. y/n. they seemed to be trying to pick up debris from the floor, their hands bleeding.

-Worried at the sight of the red liquid, he walked towards them without thinking, examining their wounds. Pieces of metal and glass were in their hand.

-"Simon," they managed to articulate between sobs.

-"What happened?"

-"It's stupid, honestly, I'm ridiculous crying over this, but... a box fell and broke my tattoo machine. I know I could buy a new one, but that... it broke me?"

-Ghost was relieved it wasn't anything serious. He nodded.

-"It's not a big deal, it's your passion."

-"I know, but an artist doesn't cry when they run out of lead with their pencil."

-"Well, then they should invest in tons of tissues," Simon joked.

-They laughed through the tears.

-"It's just... everything, I guess. I'm tired, I have a shitty job, I thought I'd finally make it with my fake skins, and now my machine breaks like a sign."

-"Not a sign," Simon said. "Don't give up. Now let me look at this; we'd want to avoid infection and stitches."

-They nodded and followed Simon into his apartment. Ghost's expert hands treating theirs.

-"The tattoo," Simon began. "It's not just a passion, is it?"

-"I... it was my dream for a while."

-"'Was'?"

-"My parents wanted something safe, I didn't know anatomy, people drew better than me. At 13, I was the artist of the class, the little prodigy, at 18 I was just an artist like everyone else. I had nothing... extraordinary, so I gave up."

-Simon nodded.

-"I don't think so," he finally added, finishing their bandage.

-"What?"

-"That you gave up. You may think so, but practicing so hard, continuing to do it every day, it seems like you've always held on."

-"I... never saw it like that."

-"Plus, who wouldn't dream of being tattooed by an angel?"

-"Simon!"

-He smiled.

-"I missed... our exchanges," they whispered.

-He stopped.

-"Me too."

-"Okay, so are we starting fresh? No more running away?"

-"I can't promise that."

-"Oh."

-"I was talking about constant exchange, I've been... an asshole thinking I was doing the right thing, but it seems obvious that no matter my efforts, our paths intersect."

-"So you'll stop running?" y/n asked, their eyes meeting his.

-"For now," Simon finally said.

-"I see, cool," y/n said.

-"Cool," he repeated, squeezing their hand.

-They got up and left. Simon let his eyes wander over their curves.

-Fuck.

_____________

- "Not a word, Johnny," Ghost said, putting his things down.

-"I didnae say anythin’!" the Scotsman complained, entering the briefing room.

-"I know what you were going to ask, and no."

-"So it's progressin’."

-"Johnny."

-"Okay. Just... ye're allowed tae be happy, L.T."

-"Hm."

-Simon avoided his gaze, his attention on Price. The captain questioned Simon with his eyes, Simon indicated with the same look that he would explain later.

________________

-“Ten o'clock breaks are nicer on a balcony."

-"Really? I thought you preferred waking up in the dark and stumbling around looking for your window," Ghost joked.

-y/n laughed. "Mean. It's cool to see the other side," they said, blowing on the tea Ghost had made.

-Sitting across from him, Simon could get used to it. A morning shared together, a breakfast enjoyed. The sun bathing their face, their hair tousled from waking up...

-"Hm, better than spying?"

-"You're the one who was stalking me."

-"You were doing the same."

-"But I wasn't looking at the other with a murderous look, I thought you hated me at first."

-"Really?"

-"Yes. I mean, I'm not the sexiest view in the world, so I thought you hated seeing me when you smoked. I even tried to shift my hours so you wouldn't see me."

-He laughed. "You're the sexiest view there is, y/n."

-"Wrong, there's Megan thee Stallion."

-"Hm, second view then."

-His phone beeped. Simon sighed.

-"Is it work?"

-"Yes."

-"You're leaving?"

-"In two days."

-"I guess you can't tell me where."

-"No."

-"Or how long."

-"Hm."

-"So, two months."

-"What?"

-"Well, if you can't say anything, I can imagine it, right? Like your mask, I never knew why, so I imagined you had vampire teeth."

-"Vampire teeth?" Simon mocked.

-"You never went out except at night, you came back late, your blinds were always closed, and your pale skin, what else could I think?"

-"Ill?"

-"..."

-"Hypochondriac? Scars?"

-"Okay, my theory was dumb, no need to twist the knife, Simon."

-He snorted.

-"You're beautiful without it," y/n finally added.

-"I know."

-"Fuck you, Simon, I'm trying to flirt."

-"Hm, 'trying' is the right word."

-"Simon."

-"Fine, 'thank you, y/n', is that better?"

-"Yes."

-Simon winked at them, y/n rolled their eyes.

-"By the way, I have a package arriving on Friday," Simon said.

-"And?"

-"It's for you."

-"A gift? But I didn't do anything."

-"That's the point of a gift, y/n. Plus, I know your birthday is coming soon."

-"Léa?"

-"Your ID."

-"How did you get it?"

-"I needed to check who you were," Simon lied.

-"...Léa," he eventually admitted.

-"I thought so."

-"Happy early birthday."

-"Thank you, Simon."

-And there, Simon wanted to engrave this image of their smile.

__________________

-Alone, lost in the forest, waiting for the target, Simon wondered what y/n was doing. Was they sleeping? Had they opened their gift? Did they like it?

-His thoughts stopped, focused on the mission, with a new desire. The desire to go home.

-To go home. To y/n.

_________________

-"Simon!"

-Tired, jet lag leaving his body heavy, but his eyes squinted at the sight of them.

-"y/n."

-"I..."

-They seemed hesitant to hug him, not quite sure what to do. Simon wanted it.

-"Oh damn, hugging y/n, melting into their warmth, leaving his hands on their curves, their thighs so soft, their hair."

-"Hug okay?" they asked.

-"More than okay."

-"Sure? I know it's not your thing, so it's not obligatory."

-"y/n, I'm sure."

-they nodded and hugged him. their scent filling his nostrils, Simon let go of his bag, letting his arms wrap around them. An embrace comforting him, finally stopping this fatigue. Ghost could leave to let Simon come home.

-"Welcome back," y/n murmured into the embrace.

-"I'm back," he whispered back.

-"I missed you. I... thank you for your gift. I... you're crazy to have spent so much, a machine of this quality..."

-"I intend to let my second sleeve be done by you."

-y/n backed away, surprised.

-"Simon, you don't even know my tattoo style."

-"And?"

-"Imagine if I'm into kawaii? Or a cute colorful Hello Kitty watercolor?"

-"Then I'll have a magnificent Hello Kitty," Simon replied.

-they laughed.

-"That would suit you well."

-"Without a doubt."

-"I might do that when I get my certification."

-"Wait, certification?"

-"I passed the hygiene certification. It's time I stop putting myself down. If I'm a failed artist, well, at least I'll be an artist."

-Simon smiled.

-"I'll be your first fan."

-"Léa is already there."

-"I already have to fight for you, damn."

-"I'm popular, you'll have to get used to it."

-He smiled.

-"Well, I'll let you go home. Good night, I suppose." y/n smiled and went home.

-He nodded and went into his apartment. However, he stopped.

-"y/n?"

-"Hm?"

-The words didn't come. Ask them to stay for what? Tea? Talk? He felt so pathetic.

-But y/n seemed to read him and took his hand, leading him into his apartment. Guiding him to his bed, they lay down beside him. Their bodies still clothed under the sheets drew closer.

-"I didn't imagine the first time in your bed like this."

-"Really?"

-"Hm, yes. I imagined a bit more warmth."

-"The heating is there."

-"Oh, shut up, Simon, you know that's not what I meant," y/n said, laughing.

-He nodded. His hands finding their place on y/n's body, embracing them.

-"My thighs aren't stress balls, Simon."

-"No, they're perfection incarnate. So soft, trembling, they're perfect."

-"It's fat."

-"Exactly."

-y/n chuckled and relaxed into his arms.

-"Does this mean something, us?" they murmured.

-"Yes."

-Not another question, and Simon fell into a deep sleep.

-Waking up, y/n in his arms, Simon decided he didn't want to wake up without their anymore. Enjoying the brief moments of peace, he let his thumbs trace circles on their back.

-"Hey," they murmured.

-"Hey."

-"Did you sleep well?"

-"Yes."

-"Simon, you have to let me go if we're going to get up."

-"Why get up?"

-"To eat?"

-His stomach answered for him. Simon sighed and got up.

______________________________

-"L.T., how dare ye?"

-"Soap."

-"Why?!"

-"Why what?" Simon asked, irritated, looking up from his reports.

-"Ye slept wi’ them!"

-"How do you know that?"

-"Ye smell good."

-Simon frowned.

-"So, I don't smell good usually?"

-"Na, ye smell like aftershave, but now it's soft."

-"Yes, I slept with them. Need details?"

-"AYE!"

-"Well, you won't get any. It was platonic, nothing sexual."

-"...so a nap."

-"Yes, McTavish, a nap."

-"...damn it, L.T., that's disappointin’."

-"I don't care."

-"Invite me tae the weddin’ in a century then."

-"You won't be invited."

-"You love me too much for that, L.T.!"

-"In your dreams, McTavish."

______________________

-"So, a lovebird in your life?"

-"Not you too, Cap."

-"I'm just curious, Simon. I know how closed off you are."

-"They're the one, sir."

-"Nice?"

-"They understand PTSD and all that shit."

-"Hm, so one to keep."

-"To marry."

-"Good luck, Simon."

-"Thanks, Cap."

----

-"Simon?"

-Blood. y/n, dead. Simon standing over their body.

-Gasping, he stood at his door, needing to know, to touch them, to prove they were alive.

-He hugged their, checking their pulse. It wasn't an illusion; they were there.

-"Simon, five things you see," y/n murmured, understanding he was there without being there.

-"You, my hands, your doormat, your coat, and your slippers," Simon eventually articulated.

-"Four things you touch."

-"y/n."

-"Simon, focus."

-"Your hair, your neck, your hips, your shoulders, your cheek."

-"Three things you hear."

-"Your pulse, my pulse, your voice."

-"Two things you smell."

-"My sweat, your perfume."

-"One thing you taste."

-"My blood."

-y/n nodded, and Simon opened his mouth, his teeth so tight he had bitten his tongue. His breath, still shaky, was calming.

-"I'm there," y/n murmured, not moving from his embrace.

-"Do you want to talk about it?" they asked.

-"No."

-"Let's sit on my couch, better than standing at the entrance of the apartment, okay?"

-Simon didn't let go of them for a moment.

-Hours passed, nothing could calm his paranoia.

-"You haven't shaved," y/n murmured.

-Simon couldn't articulate, he just nodded.

-"Can I do it for you? I know under your mask, it must feel better when you're clean-shaven."

-He nodded again. Slowly they guided him into their tiny bathroom, shaving him precisely, calmly, in a soothing silence. His eyes never leaving their face, Simon wanted to scream, cry, shake them, show them he was broken, reject them, make them run away but...

--they were there. Not forcing him to talk, letting him slowly come back down, anchoring him to reality.

-"You know, sunscreen and moisturizer would help your skin a lot," they murmured as they applied the lotions to his face slowly.

-"Especially with your chalky complexion," they added, chuckling.

-That sound, so soft, calmed his heart.

-"Okay," he managed to say.

-"I'll buy you some."

-"...Thank you."

-"Thank you for everything, for the crisis, for the beard, for the lotions, for not asking questions, for welcoming me into your life."

-"You're welcome," they replied, understanding the implication.

__________________________

-"I got rejected," y/n murmured.

-It was 10 a.m., they were on their balcony, the rain falling, they were sheltered.

-"None?"

-"No tattoo parlor accepted me for apprenticeship. Maybe I'm not good enough."

-"Or they're just blind."

-"Simon."

-"You'll make it, y/n," Simon murmured, taking their hand.

-"Maybe, but I... don't feel legitimate to continue."

-"Van Gogh was considered worthless all his life."

-"I hope to have recognition before death, Si'," y/n said, laughing.

-"And there it is, the smile suits you better."

-"Thank you, Si'."

-"Always there."

-they nodded.

___________________________

-"Si'."

-Late at night, in front of a cheap show, they were on their couch.

-"Hm?"

-"Are you... attracted to me?"

-"y/n."

-"I don't want big words, it's just... I don't want to be with someone who loves my personality and accepts my body out of pity. Not feeling desired, I know what that's like, feeling like a second option too, and I've never... addressed the subject with you. Being with a fat person is something different, the looks of others... it's something. And I don't want to be a secret or a shame."

-Simon observed them.

-"So I've been shitty."

-"What?"

-"Because every step, every breath, every part of you ignites a burning desire in me, y/n. I've been shitty at showing it if you think for a moment that every inch of you, every roll, every stretch mark isn't something I love about you."

-their breath caught for a moment.

-"I want to touch you, taste you, let your plump thighs around my head as I kiss you, I want to feel that belly with every bounce when we make love, I want to kiss this body."

-"I- I just wanted a yes, Simon," y/n replied, their voice rising in pitch, their gaze shifting away from the sudden warmth in the room.

-"Well, you have it," Simon added, a predatory look in his eyes.

-"Yes."

-The silence stretched.

-"Aren't you going to do anything, y/n?"

-y/n leaned in.

-"Yes."

-they kissed him.

_____________________

-"L.T., thanks again for coming."

-"No one wanted to miss this, McTavish," Price added.

-"A Scottish Hello Kitty tattoo, that's not to be missed, that's for sure," Gaz said as he entered the small salon.

-The place was peaceful, comfortable. A young woman greeted them and guided them to the artist's station.

-The men settled. Soap in the chair, the others on the chairs to support him.

-"Hello everyone."

-Price and Gaz greeted the tattoo artist, but Soap spoke up.

-"YOU BASTARD! YE DIDN'T TELL ME!"

-"Soap, what's-" Price began.

-"I don't need help, Johnny, I told you."

-"Ye didnae tell me, it's horrible, I was waitin’ and ye two, ye... how long?" he asked y/n.

-"Six months."

-"SIX MONTHS?!"

-"Wait, you're..."

-"y/n, meet Gaz Kyle Garrick and John Price. This is y/n, my lover."

-"Pleased to meet you," Price said, shaking their hand. "I'm surprised this big guy managed to find someone as lovely as you."

-"Thank you."

-"Six months," Soap repeated.

-"I wanted to tell you, but we wanted to take our time and with all my paperwork to find an apprenticeship and a place, I didn't realize how time passed," y/n admitted.

-"Wait, ye’re an apprentice?" Soap asked, terrified.

-"Yes, but don't worry, I'm not doing your tattoo today. I'm just preparing the equipment," y/n joked.

-"Oh, nae that I dinnae trust ye but-"

-"Don't worry."

-At 10 a.m., lost in a tattoo parlor watching Johnny get a Scottish Hello Kitty, y/n by his side, and Gaz and Price smiling.

-Ghost had finally found a new meaning to home, and he wouldn't leave it for anything in the world.

[sil-te-plait-tue-moi]

Lovers' fevers.

Quick summary: Rust tries to overcome the night you spent together.

Word count: 655 words

Warnings: Mentions of smut; don't chain-smoke???

A/N: Last drabble before I actually commit to a longer story. Read context for this (and eventually that) here!

***

To remove himself from his tendency to think and think and think, Rust smoked, slumped over the wiry railing of the upper balcony outside his place. His first instinct had been to drink, of course—but, once he had opened the fridge, he was consumed by the image of your fingers curled pretty over the neck of the Corona he really shouldn’t have given you. 

So far, he had made his way through half a pack, sucking down smoke as if he’d be nearly as lucky enough to be granted his silent death wish. At least, then, his skin would stop buzzing like a halogen bulb, give way to true silence. 

It was evil, really: if there existed a God, He sure loved violence. Rust would’ve loved to blame it on external possession: it had not been him reduced to an animal, really, but something other, and that something had touched and been touched and had indulged in that pointless hunger. Selfish. 

He shuddered quietly at the memory, which pulsed thickly, rhythmically, just behind his eyes, an all-consuming vibration. Half-convinced that there was something supernatural about your touch, Rust hastily lit another cigarette, crushing the previous beneath his matted work shoes, counting on the habit to numb this inconvenient distraction. His skin was thick. So thick, in fact, that there were times where Rust felt it was really a suit, some aspect he could step out of and inspect for maintenance. No sensation, no pain, could ever compare to the fact-based knowledge that everything happens in the head. Manage the mind; manage the self. The mind outlasted the self. Nostrils burning, eyes blown wide, Rust would tell that to Crash before receding, so that his brain would not leak from his ears. It usually worked. Here, he felt acutely aware of every temperature shift, every varying texture upon his skin, writhing secretly with near overstimulation.

Still, you remained, like a ghost. He dragged a hand across his face, like he might manually remove the anguish there. 

He should’ve liked to blame you. Temptress, Eve in the garden. Only, in what world would that ever be fair? Rust only existed to deliver what was fair, what was just. He refused to align with the supposed blameless. Marty considered himself blameless, and some unmanaged part of Rust loathed him for it, itched to apprehend him.

Rust was not blameless – far from it. Every bad thing that happened to him, he knew he deserved. Call it karma. Nature carried out its dues – why shouldn’t he?

You had smelled so fresh. 

You were trying to quit – he had almost felt guilty, smoking so openly in front of you. Then too, it had been a last-line defence against the craving that only grew every time he allowed himself to look at you, that gnawed and tore at his gut when your tired voice had quietened to a low drawl. You: threat to his realm, soft, wanting. When you had opened yourself to him, took him in deep, you were close and warm and wet – Rust would have liked to have blamed it on his programming, the way he responded. He knew, though, that it was just him.

He would not sleep tonight, he understood. He would not even approach his bed. The whole place still smelled like you, even though the linens had been to the laundromat’s, even though he had had the windows cracked open to Louisiana’s summer heat every night since. 

Maybe Rust would drive to a bar. Maybe he would stop at a gas station, stock up on Camel Blues. Then, he would shower. In the morning, he would shower again, knowing that, in any proximity at work, he could risk weakening your resilience to quit with the cigarette smoke that seemed infused into his very being. Or perhaps he would let you be tempted by this – perhaps you would then understand what was happening to him. 

[thefanficmonster]

Tell Me It’s Not Too Late

(Sequel to Switchblade)

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Heartbreak, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: When is it considered ‘too late’ when it comes to expressing feelings? Is there even a time limit? Is the chance only momentary - is it a second that passes you by with no possibility of returning? All Corpse can do is hope that’s not the case. Cause if it is.....he’d rather not think about that.

Requested - sort of, but not in a typical way. Thank you to all the readers of ‘Switchblade’ that wanted to see the story have an ending that’d lead to a new start. Here it is, guys! Hope it lives up to what you expected. Love you all to the moon and back. 💖💖💖

I end my stream after almost three hours of constant scares. I sigh, slipping the headset off my ears so it’s hanging around my neck. I don’t feel that fulfilling feeling that I’m always met with upon ending a stream. I look at the countless scratches and little holes on the surface of my desk - evidence of the fear and frustration I experience while playing certain games. Not all of them are caused by that, however - Coming home after possibly the most humiliating night of my life, that desk and a few other pieces of furniture suffered my wrath and are now decorated with stab wounds that were a result of uncontrollable rage, hurt, self-hatred and self-pity. It took me a while to put an end to my hazardous, switchblade wielding rampage throughout my house, but the tears didn’t stop until the early morning hours.

I didn’t care that my feelings weren’t reciprocated. That was and is the least of my troubles. The most amount of hurt comes from the fact that I ruined something wonderful for myself. Corpse is the only person I’ve felt this close to all my life and now, due to my own poor decision making, I no longer have him. He no longer wants to be a part of the shit-show that is my life. Especially not now that he knows how messy things get when I show my forever-hidden feelings. I can’t blame him. I know I’d be running for the hills if I were him. He deserves a person who knows what’s going on in their life. Who has themselves and their surroundings figured out. Not someone who has an irregular streaming schedule and catches feelings for her best friend, ruining the friendship altogether in the process.

As I stand up from my chair, accidentally hitting the handle of the switchblade on the edge of my desk. I look down at it and how tightly I’m holding it. I seem to not be able to let go of it. Almost like I see it as my last bit of link to Corpse. The remnants of the connection I felt between us.

Maybe I should return it.

No, that’d be weird. I’d either have to go over there and give it back or send it via mail which is worse. It just feels like a harsh gesture - mailing something so meaningful as though it’s as worthless as the bills people get in the mail. I can’t send it through others, I don’t want anyone else getting involved. The more people know, the more real it is.

I’m aware I’m being both overdramatic and irrational, but you have to understand how much pain I’m in. I can’t guarantee the pain will go away or even lessen if I let this switchblade go, but it’s the only thing I haven’t tried.

Only problem is - I can’t let it go. I can’t find it in me to destroy it or throw it away. A part of me is willing to take the suffering of keeping it just cause it wants to hold on to that little connection it resembles. It’s evidence it existed to begin with. I believe it’s worth the pain. The hurt will go away eventually, but the memories are forever. I’ll look back at the time I had an amazing person such as Corpse to call ‘best friend’ and I’ll have something to prove to myself that it wasn’t a fever dream.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.“ I mumble as I finally uncurl my fingers from around the damn thing and put in down on my desk.

I take the headset off and proceed to head out onto the balcony to light what I call a ‘stress cigarette’. I’m not a regular smoker, but when everything just caves, I prefer to resort to a quick puff rather than grabbing a drink. I can say no to a second cigarette but not to a second drink. That second will then turn into a third and so on. And I don’t trust myself when drunk. I don’t personally know, but I’ve been told I’m rather unpredictable.

For the first few seconds while I’m standing there I don’t notice the pouring rain by some strange miracle. I can only focus on the chill of the breeze and the fresh breath that’s finally entering my lungs. I take a moment to breathe in the cool air before I start mixing it with the cigarette smoke. 

With my eyes closed, I hear more than I feel the rain on me. Storm noises always distract me from the actual storm, they calm me down. However, the sudden loud thunder causes me to open my eyes in a matter of milliseconds. I frown, slightly upset that I didn’t catch glimpse of the lightning that the thunder probably followed.

I’m not upset for too long, though. A lightning flashes right opposite me, creating the most mesmerizing of pattern you can see in the night sky during a storm. It’s so bright, it allows me to see my whole, usually unlit garden perfectly in that second or two it graces the sky. 

Wait

My balcony has a clear view of my entire front yard and all it takes a glance to the left to be able to see the front doorstep. 

Don’t freak yourself out, it’s just a trick of the light

I stay quiet and as still as a statue as I await another flash of lightning, my heart speeding past the point of a healthy pulse and into the realm of a near heart attack. The storm seems to be on my side because maybe a minute later another lightning bolt cuts through the black of the night. 

Sure enough, there’s a person standing outside my front door.

Fuck, what do I do?!

The person doesn’t appear to be moving. They are standing just as still as I am, facing towards the house.

I thank the universe the lights inside the house are off. I turned them off cause I wanted the ultimate scary experience playing that game. The only light is the faint glow of my computer screen which is, thankfully, barely visible. I slowly start backing up towards the sliding glass door, never taking my eyes off the figure that I can just barely make out now that my surroundings have fallen into darkness again. If it weren’t for the lightning I would’ve never been able to see them.

I manage to get back inside, soaked as though I just got out of a pool, without making a single sound. Just to be safe, I shut my monitor off. I grab my phone to use as a flashlight in one hand and the switchblade just finds its way into the other, my fingers curling around it tightly, more on instinct than to use as a weapon. I know I probably won’t be able to stab whoever’s out there.

I tiptoe my way down the stairs where all the lights are also off. I flick the blade out as I hesitantly and shakily make my way to the door to look through the peephole. I let out an unsteady exhale as I look at the the figure who is now standing further away and seems to have one arm in the air, curled at the elbow.

Just as I’m about to pull away from the door to dial 911 another flash of lightning illuminates the yard, the figure along with it. 

Can we go back to it being an intruder?

It’s no intruder, surprisingly - to my dismay. 

I turn my phone’s flash off and reach for the switch next to the door, flicking the light on before opening the door and walking out. 

“I NEARLY STABBED YOU WITH YOUR OWN BLADE!“ I yell in a desperate attempt to be heard over the waterfall of rain.

I can finally see him properly thanks to the light in my hallway. He looks like he hasn’t slept in years. He has his hood up but his black locks are sticking out in every direction from under the soaked material, not being protected from the droplets whatsoever. I read the shock in his eyes, almost like he didn’t know I lived there. He doesn’t make an attempt to approach or walk away from me so we just stand there, in the rain, staring at each other as though it’s the first time we’ve seen one another.

I snap out of the trance he has put me in, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of the situation as I step towards him, grabbing onto his wrist, “Come on, we look like drowned rats.” I don’t give him time to react as I drag him inside, closing the door once we enter. “OK, from the top now: Why were you embracing your inner serial killer on my front porch?” I keep blabbering, diverting my gaze to anything but him. “Fucking hell, I could’ve stabbed you! You could’ve gotten really badly hurt! I -...”

“You know, I wish you stabbed me.“ He finally puts an end to my sorry excuse for frustration, I’m aware I look and sound miserable. His voice drags my eyes straight to his, fixing them there. “I know you can’t kill a cockroach on your own, and I know you most definitely wouldn’t even scratch a person, but I wish you had hurt me. Inflict fifty stab wounds on me and you still won’t hurt me as much as I hurt you.“ His hand swiftly pushes the hood off his head, grabbing onto his drenched locks as an expression of pain paints itself on his face. He’s the one diverting his gaze now, “I know what you mistook my silence for and I want you to get that out of your head.“

I wince at the pang in my chest, barely restraining my hand from flying up to rest over my heart, “Don’t humor me, Corpse! I’m not a child and this is not a game!”

“I’m not humoring you. I’m telling you...“ he makes a step towards me, grabbing hold of my ice cold hands, “I’m telling you I’m an asshole that freezes up when it’s least acceptable. I’m telling you I’m the worst at expressing how I feel. I’m telling you I can’t open foil. But you already knew all that. And you still liked me.“ He breaths in, refilling his lungs before continuing his rant, “I know you can be very chaotic. A real handful. A fucking tornado. But I love you. I love you as every natural disaster you represent. And if you could humor me...“ One of his hands releases mine, coming up to push a strand of hair away from my face, resting his hand on my cheek. “...by giving me one more chance. You always let me try multiple times when I stumble over what I’m trying to say. Can you do that, for me? For us?“

I let out a dramatic sigh, rolling my eyes. “If I say yes will you stop showing up like that on my doorstep?“ Of course, my primal instinct is to act tough and cool when my heart rate is once again going at the speed from back at the balcony. The skin of face and neck is red and burning hot. My eyes are rimmed with tears, I hope he doesn’t notice.

“Yeah. I’ll start coming in through the chimney instead.“ He visibly relaxes, a smile dancing at the corner of his lips. He lifts the hand that’s still holding the switchblade, prying it out of my grasp. “No sharp objects, please.”

He drops it in the pocket of his hoodie, finally leaning down to erase any last bit of doubt I have left. This kiss teaches me a lot of things.

Love isn’t linear - nothing about it is linear. Not falling in nor falling out of it. Feelings aren’t digital or binary - it’s not always as black and white as we might want to believe. Feelings don’t just come and go. They are always present, but it depends on us weather they’re suppressed or expressed. We fear the latter cause we fear vulnerability and change. But we also crave the positive outcome we have a 50% chance of getting. It’s a fifty-fifty game, but here’s the thing: if you never express your feelings it’s a zero-a hundred chance that you won’t receive the outcome you’d like.

I took the fifty over the zero chance and regretted it for a day or two. It gave me closure if nothing more. It let me stand under the spotlight and carry my pride on my shoulders despite the tears in my eyes.

My feelings being reciprocated is just another benefit. But no longer being able to call Corpse ‘best friend’ cause he’s now got a bigger and better title is the positive outcome I have been dreaming of. 

He makes it all worth it. He is worth all of it. 

And if I had to go through all that again, you can bet your ass I would.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis

[mandoalorian]

Happiness [Maxwell Lorenzano x f!Reader]

Author’s note: Please heed warnings before you read. This is angst. There’s a little fluff and a few spicy moments, but at its core, this is a pretty angsty read. It’s a different interpretation of Maxwell, post WW84. Reblogs are so appreciated. I worked really hard on this and it’s not showing up in tags so if you could reblog it... it would literally mean the world to me :( <3

Summary: After the dreamstone debacle, Maxwell Lord loses custody of his son, his home, his job and all his wealth. He has nothing, and what was once the simple task of ‘living’, is suddenly proving to be extremely difficult. Until a beacon of light enters his life. He can only hope that you don’t find out who he really is.

Word count: 4000+

Rating: 18+

Warnings: depression/suicidal thoughts, PSTD/trauma implications, poverty, starvation, binge eating, allusions to sex, male masturbation, food and drink mention.

Masterlist

Max is usually pretty good at keeping himself to himself, but when he hears the commotion from outside his small shanty apartment, he cautiously stalks towards the front door and leans into the wood, gazing out the peephole. He spots you, struggling to unlock the door located on the far side of the hall. Your arms are filled with brown paper bags and an abundance of cardboard boxes circle around your feet. He hears you curse as you drop one of the paper bags. It rips, and groceries spill onto the floor with a clatter. He swallows thickly, feeling his tummy grumble at the sight of fresh fruit and colourful veg. Max hadn’t eaten a single meal this week.

He spends a few more seconds watching you struggle, before the guilt swarms over him and he feels like a creep. He does wonder if he should leave his apartment and help you out though, but eventually he decides on turning his heel and walks back to the torn leather sofa. He just knows he’ll be some kind of intrusion on you. If Max has learned one thing, it’s that he needs to stay away from other people. Otherwise, he’d just hurt them. Even if hurting them was the last thing he intended to do.

Still, he finds himself marvelling over you. He wants to go over and introduce himself. He thinks you’re absolutely stunning. Maybe it’s just because he hasn’t seen a woman (other than his ex-wife) in just short of a year, or maybe it’s something more genuine -- like the way you wear your hair or that glimmer in your eye. Once upon a time, Maxwell would’ve strolled on over to your apartment with the utmost confidence and charm, with the sole intention of winning you over and taking you back to his place. He wouldn’t dare do that now.

He stares at the wall clock, and watches as the minute leg ticks. It’s painfully slow. It’s 5:52pm, and Maxwell is just waiting until 6pm, because he knows at 6pm he can call his son, Alistair. If he tries calling a second earlier though, he is certain his ex-wife will throw a rage, claiming that he’s breaking court order. Maxwell had never been one to follow rules, but now, he didn’t have much of a choice. As he waits for the leg to strike 6, all he can really do is think about you. Truth be told, he hates that he’s thinking about you this much. He doesn't even know you.

But you’re so pretty. Your features are soft and delicate. Your clothes fit you perfectly and hug your body in all the right places. He can’t help but think what you sound like. He wonders if you’re from around here. He wonders why you moved into this particular neighbourhood, out of all the other neighbourhoods in rural D.C. He should go over and say hello at least. It would be the polite thing to do. He considers bringing over a bottle of wine to make a peace offering, but then he remembers all he has in his refrigerator is a stick of butter and a bottle of milk that has grown old and fermented. He assumes that you probably wouldn’t care for such housewarming gifts.

Maxwell calls Alistair as soon as the clock turns six. As always, Alistair is more than excited to speak to his dad, beaming brightly down the line. Alistair tells Maxwell about his step-father, and how he’d built a pool in their back garden for Ali and his mom. Max’s lips curl into a frown when he realises that his ex’s new husband is giving Alistair everything Max couldn’t. And once again, Maxwell feels like he has failed as a father.

For a short while, Alistair babbles about his day at school and how he got full marks on a pop quiz. Maxwell is as proud as punch. He has no doubt that success will one day find Alistair, he just hopes Alistair has an easier time handling it. Max can hear a faint yelling in the background of the phone call and eventually Alistair is interrupted.

“Oh-- mommy is calling me to eat dinner.” Alistair says softly, his voice suddenly growing oddly timid. Max’s stomach grumbles again at the mention of dinner.

“But we still have ten minutes left of our phone call.” Max replies matter-of-factly. He hopes Alistair can’t hear the disappointment in his voice. This isn’t his fault. He hears his ex yell again and Max can’t help but feel his face harden with disdain.

“I know, I’m sorry daddy, but I have to go.” The croak in Alistair’s voice is enough to break Maxwell’s heart. He wishes this could’ve been different. It should’ve been different.

Max knows he can’t argue though. It’s only futile. So he accepts the fact that Alistair has to leave the phone call early -- at least he was getting something to eat. Maxwell remembers when he was Alistair’s age. His mom always struggled to put food on the table because his dad would spend all the money on drinks at the local bar. Maxwell is just grateful his son isn’t starving.

“Okay, it’s okay,” Maxwell reassures before taking a shaky exhale. “I love y--”

But then, the line went dead. Max assumes that Alistair’s mom has ripped the phone from his hand and hung up. Sighing, Maxwell forces himself to stand up and walk on over to his bedroom. The bed is unmade and there are several piles of dirty laundry all over the floor. He jams open the sticky window and climbs onto the balcony, inhaling the cool evening air and lighting a cigarette. Smoking was a habit he’d gotten himself into when he was much younger, but he’d grown out of it when he’d hit limelight. Now though, it was growing back in to be a shameful addiction that he just couldn’t shake. It helped him stop feeling hunger, though.

As he flicks the orange lit ash over the edge of the balcony, his eyes catch on you again. You are standing on the street, talking to some guy. You’re laughing, and it looks like this mystery man’s hand is caressing your arm. It’s probably your boyfriend; Maxwell assumes, and the pang of jealousy in his chest turns into unadulterated sadness as he realises he was probably never going to find love again. He peers over the edge of the balcony once more as he takes a final drag of the cigarette, and he wonders if the jump would kill him.

Maxwell’s eyes begin to sting, and he climbs back into his bedroom, knocking his head on the window pane in the process.

He can’t sleep that night, and he tosses and turns in his three quarter sized bed. He could feel every spring in his mattress. What he would give to just sleep one more night in the soft, plush king sized bed he used to take for granted. He switched on his amber tinged bedside lamp and swatted away a moth that flew towards it. Maxwell stared at the ceiling and wondered if the damp had gotten worse. Even if it had, it wasn’t like Max had the courage to bring it up with the landlord.

He finds himself thinking about you again. He lived to see the way you smiled when you spoke to that guy, or the way your hair blew ever so slightly in the evening breeze. Max wraps his hand around his semi-hard cock and begins to jerk himself off. To nobody’s surprise though, he doesn’t finish -- the overwhelming feeling of revolt consuming him. He thinks he’s disgusting, and that nobody would ever want to touch him. He can’t even stand touching himself.

He falls asleep not long after that.

Max once had a pretty decent sleep schedule, going to bed at 10 and waking up at 6. But now he was up until the early hours of the morning, overthinking and hating himself. He wakes up three or four times a night from the same recurring nightmare. It’s a replay from the clear night of July ‘84, when he took over everyone’s TV screens. His doctor prescribed him therapy for it, which would probably help, but Maxwell just can’t afford it.

He wakes up to the sound of a bang on his front door. Max scrambles to his feet in a panic, checking the time on his alarm clock. It’s 2pm. And the person at the door could easily be his landlord, finally having enough and kicking him out. Max’s rent is two months overdue.

But it’s not his unforgiving landlord. It’s you. And you’re holding a fruit basket.

“Hey neighbour!” you smile pleasantly before introducing yourself to him. “I just moved in across the hall. I wasn’t sure what you’d like… but I figured everyone likes fruit!”

Maxwell stays quiet, standing there in complete disbelief. No one has shown him this amount of kindness in so long…

The prolonged silence makes you feel a little strange. He still hasn’t accepted the fruit basket, nor had he said anything. He was just… staring at you. It wasn’t a slimy gawk. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what his dark eyes were trying to tell you.

“—I’m sorry,” you continue eventually when he doesn’t speak, dropping the fruit basket by your side and turning away. “I uh— would you like me to get you something else?”

Maxwell’s eyes widen and he quickly shakes his head. “No!” he exclaims, opening his front door wider and taking the fruit basket from you. “I’m sorry,” he apologises. “I uh— I love fruit.”

You smile at his fluster, and you swear you notice a rosy pink blush cross his cheeks. It’s adorable.

“Oh okay, that’s good then.”

Maxwell prays you can’t hear his stomach grumble at the sight of the fresh fruit. He’s so excited to eat it all. “How can I repay you?”

You raise your eyebrows at his proposition and chuckle awkwardly. “Repay me? No no,” you laugh. “It’s just a fruit basket,”

It wasn’t just a fruit basket though. It was the only food Max had.

“I mean, you could tell me your name.”

Maxwell curses, realising he hasn’t even introduced himself. Gods— he wonders when exactly he’d lost his charm.

“Right, I’m sorry. I’m Max.” He extends his arm and offers you a handshake. You giggle, but accept.

He feels a bolt of electricity run up his arm when your fingers interlink with his, and he wonders if you can feel it too.

“Very formal Max,” you acknowledge with a smile.

Maxwell genuinely hasn’t communicated with anyone since July 1984. It’s probably about time he ditches the businessman persona, although he doesn’t realise he still uses it from time to time. Old habits die hard.

“I must say, I feel like I recognise you from somewhere.”

“No. You don’t.” Maxwell quickly snaps back and you’re afraid you struck a nerve.

There’s a longer silence and you find yourself wondering about your neighbour. He’s right in front of you and yet you can’t help but feel as though he’s some kind of enigma. Maybe it’s the crinkles in the corner of his eyes or his wry smile.

“Um…” you mumble, your gaze trailing behind him as you try and peer into his apartment. You can’t see much though. From where you stand it looks very empty… and brown. “If you weren’t busy tonight maybe you could come over and we could get to know each other. I uh-- don’t have many friends yet.” you explain shyly, nervously biting your lip.

You didn’t usually get nervous talking to new people, but there was just something about Maxwell that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. His presence made butterflies flutter in your tummy and your hands feel clammy with excitement… or maybe anticipation. He stares at you blankly before clearing his throat.

“I uh-- yeah I mean-- maybe,” Maxwell shrugs cooly. “If I’m not busy.”

Pft, busy. Max hasn’t been busy since the dreamstone debacle.

“Of course,” you nod your head and smile. “Well, you’re welcome to come on over anytime.”

And then, without thinking, Maxwell replies. “And you’re welcome to come over here anytime too.”

You feel your smile grow into a grin and you reach out, placing your hand on Max’s arm. “Okay, well, it was nice meeting you.” you bite your lip.

Max’s heart stops when you touch him, and for the first time, he doesn’t flinch away. You’re holding his bicep and… he likes it. It’s not sending him into a spur of anxiety, in fact, he feels better just for finally plucking the courage to talk to you. And now you’re touching him. You’re not repulsed or disgusted… in fact, you’re smiling. You look happy, and maybe Max is happy too. Maybe. Max doesn’t even realise the small smile that’s crept upon his lips.

“Nice meeting you too.” He swallows and you wave goodbye.

He watches you walk back into your apartment, drinking in your appearance. You were wearing jeans and a sweatshirt today. It was casual… but he liked it.

Even when he finally gets back into his apartment and slumps against his front door, he’s still smiling. This feeling is so unfamiliar.

Maxwell finds himself pondering whether or not he should visit you tonight. He so desperately wanted to see you again-- see your pretty face and sparkling eyes and that perfect smile. Maybe Max could have a friend. That would be nice.

But he quickly gets scared again. He knows immediately that you’re too good for him, and that he’ll only end up hurting you. And then he’ll be left alone again. Max doesn’t know if he can survive another heartbreak.

Once again, he lights a cigarette and sits on the balcony, and wonders if the jump will kill him.

Then he realises he suddenly doesn’t want to die. At least, not yet. He wants to see you again first.

Max doesn’t even bother finishing the cigarette. He taps away the ash and climbs back inside, stripping himself of his clothes and turning on the shower. If he was going to see you tonight, he’d at least make the effort.

The soap he uses is from Dollar Tree, and it doesn’t really have a scent. It made a change from his favourite Jo Malone pomegranate fragranced soap, that’s for sure. He gets annoyed trying to squirt out the very little remenints of his shampoo bottle. Although he doesn’t have much, he’s satisfied when he comes out of the shower. He feels clean and fresh.

Maxwell rakes through his tiny collapsing wardrobe, trying to find an outfit that will make him appear somewhat presentable. He’s probably overthinking this whole thing -- after all, it isn’t exactly a date. But he still feels the strong inclination to impress you. He so desperately wants to be liked by you.

Most of his everyday wear is stained or ripped or very aged. But then he spots the small duffel bag at the bottom of his closet and he remembers he packed some of his old business wear when he moved out of his manor and into this apartment. He hadn’t looked in the duffel bag once since moving though, afraid that seeing the clothes would unleash some kind of trauma on him.

Max crosses his legs and hesitantly unzips the black bag. Inside, he finds a few fitted shirts, a few tailored pants, and one suit jacket. He even spots a belt and two patterned ties. He’s a little upset though when he can’t find the suspenders he used to wear. They were always his favourite part of his outfit.

Maxwell can’t bring himself to dress in the whole get up, but he does pick out a white button down shirt and grey pants. He tucks the shirt in, and wraps the belt through the loops in his pants, clicking it into place. Opting to look slightly more casual, Max leaves the first two buttons of his shirt undone and rolls the sleeves up to his elbows.

And for the first time in a long time, Max likes the way he looks. He wishes he had some cologne to spray, and he could definitely do with a haircut, but this is good enough.

He doesn’t want to seem desperate, so he does wait (albeit impatiently) until 8:30pm to see you. In the meantime, he eats over half of the fruit basket. He tells himself he’ll stop after an apple and an orange, but strangely enough. He can’t. He can’t stop. It just tastes so good and he’s so hungry -- so he eats until he feels sick. He wants to lie down because he really doesn’t feel too good at all, but he’s not going to pass up this opportunity to see you for anything. He feels a little cold, so he throws on his suit jacket which is grey in colour and matches the tailored pants. Max chokes down a glass of water, straightens up his posture, and knocks on your door.

He’s not waiting for long, and he’s delighted when he sees you answer the door. Your lips are painted a ruby red colour and you’re wearing your hair differently. Not only that, but you’d changed out of your sweater and jeans, and now you’re doting a knee length flowy dress. Your feet are slipped into some fuzzy looking slippers though, and Max admires the small diamond stud earrings that you don. They really bring out the colour of your eyes.

“I was hoping you’d come.” you reveal nervously, opening the door wider and looking your neighbour up and down. He looks so incredibly handsome in his change of outfit. Max feels himself blush under your gaze and he smiles.

“I just couldn’t pass this up.” he laughs nervously.

You move out the way and gesture for him to enter your apartment. Max notes that it’s roughly the same size as his, but it’s already filled with more furniture. Judging from the plentiful cardboard boxes in every corner, you hadn’t finished unpacking either. You find yourself watching Max as he takes in your front room. You take his jacket and hang it on your coat peg which stands by your front door. You definitely do recognise him from somewhere, especially seeing him in that shirt and those pants…

You shrug off your curiosity temporarily though, and take his hand, pulling him into your kitchen. Max loves the way your hand fits so perfectly into his. He doesn’t want you to pull away. And you don’t, until you reach the refrigerator.

“I have cranberry juice, tea, coffee-- no milk though, uh…” you trail off and check the cupboards. You beam when you see the bottle of champagne that your friend had gifted you. It was to celebrate moving out. You present him with it and grin. “Would you care to have a glass with me?”

Max remembers the distinct taste of the bubbles on his lips and he nods in agreement. You don’t have any fancy glasses, let alone flutes, so you pour the pale yellow liquid into two plastic tumblers. You hand one to Max and cradle your own in both of your hands.

“You should propose a toast.” you laugh jokingly.

Luckily, Maxwell has always been able to handle being put on the spot. He only takes a few seconds to come up with something.

“To new friends.” he announces with a charming smile, and clinks his cup against yours.

Max hasn’t had a drink in a long time, so it doesn’t take long for it to reside in his system and he begins to feel a bit tipsy. It’s not bad though. Maxwell is relaxed, and he’s comfortable. You bounce off each other and make each other laugh right up until the early hours of the morning. You bring out Monopoly and you’re surprised at how good he is at it. He gives you advice on buying properties and investments and it truly sounds like he knows what he’s talking about. You wonder what he does for a living.

“I didn’t say this earlier,” Max says as you pour out the last of the champagne. The alcohol has him buzzing with confidence. “But you look breathtaking, really. That dress and those earrings and your lips…”

And you don’t know what it is, but Max just makes you feel so good. “My lips?” you repeat breathlessly, gazing into his honeyed brown eyes.

Max nods wordlessly when you climb into his lap and straddle his hips. You place the palms of your hands flat against his chest and nudge your nose against his, giggling playfully. Max feels scared -- he’d never been this close to anyone in so long, let alone a beautiful woman like yourself.

Gods, he’s so handsome too. A small piece of his hair has fallen out of place and it crosses his forehead. You’re quick to brush it out of his face with your finger, and one of your hands cup his cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into the warmth of your touch, humming in contentment. When he opens his eyes again, they’re noticeably shades darker.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his voice low like it had dropped a few octaves.

You nod desperately and your lips crash against his.

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the adrenaline but he’s an amazing kisser -- perhaps the best you’ve ever had. You roll your hips over his lap and he moans, but doesn’t break the kiss once. His large hands roam around your back and squeeze at the soft flesh of your thighs. The Monopoly game has been long discarded now, leaving only you and Max revelling in each other’s touch.

You want more. You want him. You dip your hand in between your bodies and find his belt, trying your best to undo the buckle so you can get him out of his pants. You’re certain you can feel his erection pressing against the inside of your thigh, and you’d be right in thinking he wants this too.

But what he wants the most, is to not ruin things between you both, and Max feels like that maybe this is all happening a bit too fast. He doesn’t want to reject you, and he’s afraid of hurting you, but he’s also afraid of you getting so close to him -- that you find out who he truly is, and the things he does. He doesn’t want to lose you because you make him feel so happy. For the first time in potentially years, Maxwell feels genuine happiness. He doesn’t want to fuck up, not when he’s been doing so well.

So he pulls away from you breathlessly and moves your hands away from him. He holds them though, brushing his thumbs in comforting circles against your soft skin.

“I really like you,” he smiles. “And tonight has been… great. You have no idea how much I’ve enjoyed myself. But I-- I really want to see you again. And do this again. And have a good time with you. I just don’t think we should-- you know--” Maxwell tries to explain. He feels bad for rejecting you. “It’s not that I don’t want to. Because trust me,” he sighs, closing his brown eyes. “I really really do. But--”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” you smile, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. “I understand, and honestly, I think you’re probably right. I’ve had a good time too though.”

Maxwell can’t help but beam knowing that there’s no hard feelings between you both.

“So we can do this again?” he asks hopefully.

“Yes.” you reply, pressing a chaste yet sweet kiss to his lips.

You wiggle off his lap and Maxwell stands up. “I should head back home then,” he says. “It’s late. But maybe we can do something tomorrow?”

“I’d like that a lot.” you agree.

Max gives you one final kiss and part of you wants to ask him if he’d be willing to stay the night. You shake away the temptation and tell yourself there’d be plenty more opportunities for him to stay over. Before he leaves, you see him abruptly spin around on his heel and point his index finger towards you.

And your heart drops.

You freeze.

You think you can feel your blood run cold and the colour drain out of your face.

Because in that moment, when he points his finger at you, you recognise him.

You remember him.

You know who he is.

“I almost forgot my jacket.” Max laughs, sliding past you.

You feel like you can’t move though.

This was the man who single handedly almost destroyed the entire planet.

But how -- how could it be Maxwell Lord? He was so sweet and kind and funny. How could the man you just made out with, the man you shared a bottle of champagne with -- your own neighbour…

How could it be Maxwell Lord?

How hadn’t you noticed sooner. Hell, his name was literally Max Lorenzano.

“Goodnight.” Max tells you.

You try and force yourself to say it back but no words come out. Your throat feels dry and you’re panicking.

Max doesn’t even notice though. He’s too busy beaming with happiness when he leaves.

You aren’t sure if you’re going to see him again.

When Maxwell gets back home, he can’t rid himself of the grin that’s plastered across his lips. He sits out on the balcony and lights a cigarette, but this time, when he looks at the ground beneath you, he doesn’t wonder if the jump will kill him.

His eyebrows furrow together when he notices the florist across the road, and he wonders how much a bouquet of flowers will cost him. He wants to get you something; as a thank you for giving him a good time.

He simply can’t wait to see you again.

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[oikirstein]

𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 | 𝐫.𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐚

PAIRING: suna x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: It was a quiet night you were to have—until Suna came knocking on your door at 11 PM. 

CONTAINS: angst, drugs (weed), suggestive content, tw: kissing, shotgunning, suna’s mom’s honda odyssey 

WORD COUNT: 3,097

A/N: this bad boy is dedicated to my sussy little baka @hikariakaashi​ giggles (derogatory). you’ve been going through a suna brain rot recently and when i told you my fantasy about shotgunning with suna, you encouraged me to write it, so here it is chuckles immensely. i hope u like it ily :biteslip: 

big thank you to @kyotarou​ for beta reading and giving me mini heart attacks & to @hajigumi​ for making my header after saying it was ugly (/j) <3 

The silence of your room was peaceful. The stars shone brightly outside your balcony window, moonlight glistening through the translucent curtains. It wasn’t absurd for you to be all by lonesome, it was only natural for the daughter of a CEO to find herself busy with things that didn’t concern the family. They were raising you to be an heir after all, a feat that required independence to be a shining skill. Still, standing in an empty room, it was a lonely situation to be living in. You were grateful to have such a future practically placed in the palms of your hands, but you wished there was something more. You wanted to experience what it was like to break free from the shackles of responsibility and keeping up appearances. A lot of your time was spent wondering if things would’ve been different had you been given a choice, but unfortunately, life did not give you the option to change the past.

That’s why you were so thankful to have heard the light knock that originated from the wood of your balcony door. A light flinch overtook your body at the sound, like you were anticipating his presence. You tiptoed your way over to the door, your warm hand radiating heat onto cool metal of the doorknob. With your ear pressed to the wood, a soft giggle fell from your lips.

“Who is it?” you teased, knowing full well who was on your terrace at this late hour.

“Why don’t you open up the door and see for yourself?” You could practically see the smirk that played on his face.

Without hesitation, you swung the door open so fast the hinges didn’t have the chance to creak. You jumped into his arms at first glance, him carrying you with ease. “Rintaro! What are you doing here?”

He placed you back down on your feet before taking your hand in his and bringing it up to his lips, “It’s a beautiful night, is it not?”

You blushed at the contact of his soft lips on your skin, anxiety washing over you as you scanned the perimeter.

“What if someone sees us?”

“Well, no one’s gonna catch us if we aren’t here for them to catch,” he whispered, jerking his head to the side as if to insinuate they were going to leave the property.

If someone had caught you with a boy—the boy being Suna, no less—you surely would’ve been reprimanded by your father. On the other hand, the past couldn’t be changed, and the consequences of the future were for a different you to worry about. What was life without a little risk anyway?

“You mean like...sneaking out?” You warily looked around as you shut the door, the click of the knob sealing your fate.

He lightly grabbed hold of your hand and started his way down the stairs of your parapet. “Well how else would we spend today?”

You followed him, hand in hand, through all the twists and turns that presented themselves in your garden, until you reached the outermost edge of the estate.

Suna promptly released your grip, intertwining his own fingers to hoist you over the wall, “After you.”

You held onto his shoulder as you stepped onto him, “Such a gentleman,” and climbed over the wall with ease.

Rintaro swiftly followed you, using his upper body to lift himself above the marble. After dusting his hands off on his jeans, he led you to the street just beyond the backyard.

As you approached the vehicle, he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry it’s nothing fancy. All I had was my mom’s old Honda,” you gave him an apologetic smile to reassure him that trivial things such as car brands didn’t matter. He stepped in front you to open the passenger door, waiting for you to be all settled in before winking. “But don’t worry, she won’t be back home until next month,” then he shut the door.

Your eyes followed him as he walked around the front of the minivan to get to the driver’s side, “What? What do you mean? Sunarin! Why does it matter if she’s not home!”

All he could do was laugh as he opened his own door. Hopping into the car and resting his wrist on the steering wheel, his eyes made a quick glance at the center console before putting his seatbelt on and starting the ignition. “Like I said, princess, it’s a beautiful night.”

The silence of the drive was peaceful. It was a comforting kind of silence, the kind that enveloped you in warmth. Everything felt okay in this abyss of quiet because you were in this abyss together.

You leaned your head against the window, feeling the cold air of night permeating through the glass before you sighed. “Say, how long until we reach our destination?”

Rintaro shifted in his seat, placing his right elbow on the armrest of the door and placing his head in his palm. He darted his eyes to you and back to the road with a smile, “Be patient. Good things come to those who wait.”

Sitting up straight, you crossed your arms over your chest and imitated a child’s pout. “Well can you at least tell me what we’re gonna do?”

He looked at you, then to the center console, then back at you before shrugging his shoulders. It was like giving a dog a bone. You squinted your eyes at him before untangling your arms and snaking your finger over to the medium and clicking it open. In the corner of your vision, you could see Suna trying to stifle a laugh. Curiosity getting the best of you, you leaned over to look into it, and your eyes widened at the sight.

“Seriously?” you rolled your eyes at him.

As you pulled into what seemed like a forest, he threw his head back in a guffaw.

“What? There’s no better way to celebrate, baby.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and gave you a kiss on your temple before pulling the keys out of the ignition. “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?” You mimicked his actions and took your seatbelt off.

“Look up.”

You questioned his statement for a second before looking up through the panoramic sunroof of his mom’s Honda Odyssey.

“Oh my god. It’s beautiful.” Your eyes were full of wonder, much like a child, as you stared at the dazzling pink moon above you. “How did you find this place?”

He looked up for a moment, pretending to be lost in thought. “I dunno. Just came across it I guess.”

“Who would’ve thought I’d be alive to witness such a phenomenon!” You giggled, gazing at the sky once more. Turning to Suna, who was staring at you, you commented, “For real, it’s so pretty.”

“Not as pretty as you though.”

He was so suave sometimes it made you itch. Scoffing at him, you chose to ignore what he said, instead holding your hand out and saying, “Oh shut up and pass me a lighter.”

Suna dug his hands into the console and once he had everything in his hands, he motioned for you to shut the top. You watched him diligently as he twisted the grinder, once, twice, three times before taking a wrapper out of the packaging and running his tongue on it. He has such nice hands, you thought as the veins flexed against his bones. He laid the paper flat onto the leather and snapped his gaze back at you.

“Hey, pay attention. How’re you gonna do this by yourself if you’re too busy looking at me, hm?” He loved to tease you, loved to see the heat rise to your cheeks when he took advantage of a perfect moment—loved to fluster you speechless. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He took your silence as you admitting defeat, no retort coming to mind. Chuckling at your scrunched eyebrows and focused eyes, he took the wrapper back into his palm and unscrewed the grinder to sprinkle the weed onto the paper. With a steady hand, he placed the container down and rolled up the blunt. Suna tucked the edges of the paper into itself, and taking the lavender lighter that sat on the dashboard, he ran his thumb across the sparkwheel, running the flame across the wrapper.

Once he was done, he held the blunt between his thumb and index finger, taking a look at his proud work. Placing his elbow on the console, he slowly flicked his wrist to your side, ushering you to take the blunt from his fingers. Holding it with your left hand, he placed the lighter in your right. You paused before placing the blunt in between your lips, “I don’t know Rin, I just can’t imagine a world where you don’t roll for me,” you shrugged your shoulders, finally making contact with the paper. As you lit the end of the blunt in the darkness of the car, you couldn’t help but wither at the flame. You never really noticed in the daylight, how fast the light goes out. It was strikingly more apparent in the dark. Before you knew it, your eyes had shut and the flame was out. Perhaps at this moment you could’ve made some cliche anecdote about how life was like a flame, and it would be out before you knew it, so it was best to make the warmth last, but you were just so entirely encapsulated by it’s light that it was gone before you even had time to think about it.

You took a deep inhale, closing your eyes and clearing your thoughts as you let the smoke simmer in your throat, only exhaling when you felt as though you couldn’t breathe anymore.

“That’s my good girl. Seems like you did learn a thing or two from hanging out with a rascal like me.”

You rolled your eyes at him, increasingly getting closer to his body. “As if I had baby lungs before we met.”

A low chuckle erupted from his chest. Watching you take another hit, eyes drunk on the sight of you, he patted lightly on his thighs. You smiled at him, vapor spilling from your teeth, and lifted your body over the middle separation of the car. With you now straddling his legs, he placed his rough palms on your waist, holding onto your skin as if he was afraid to let go. You wrapped your arms loosely around his shoulders and he brought his hand up to brush his thumb against your lip. Gently pulling you in, he settled your soft lips on his, feeling his lungs fill with the smoke from yours. It was slow, the moment feeling everlasting as your bodies moved in sync and your tongues brushed against each other. You pulled apart for a moment, the taste still lingering while Suna turned his head to the side and exhaled.

He looked back up at you with stinging eyes, words could not possibly describe how beautiful you looked under the glowing pink moon. He pulled you in once more, this time more forceful. Teeth clashing and saliva spilling—he couldn’t get enough of you. You held the sides of his face with the heels of your palms, kneeling on the seat below you, desperately wanting to get closer. Suna drew back from your lips with a pop, only to come back and run his tongue all the way down your jawline and neck. Quiet moans ruptured from your throat as he sucked and nipped at the skin. You brought the joint to your lips and sucked on the end until the tip was bright red, only exhaling when Rintaro bit your shoulder.

Playfully smacking his arm, you winced, “Ow!”

He kissed the area as if to soothe the pain, “Sorry, princess, you just taste so good.”

“Yeah right, you smooth piece of shit,” you said, taking the joint in your lips again.

Suna removed himself from you, taking the blunt from your fingers and taking a hit himself. “C’mon, babe, save some for me.”

You cupped his cheek with one hand, the other exploring his chest, while you smooched his cheek and nuzzled your face into his neck, “As if you can’t roll one for yourself,” you purred.

Taking the last few inhales, he placed the remainder of the joint in the ashtray that sat in the cupholder. Rin hooked his index finger under your chin and pressed a quick kiss to your nose, “Where’s the fun in that?” He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, your arms snaking around his waist, and rested his chin on your head. “Y’know, I’m really gonna miss moments like these.”

You sighed against his chest, “You’re talking like we’re splitting up.”

“Well we don’t really have a choice, do we? You’re gonna go study at some prestigious school in France, and I’m…” the strands of your hair flew askew as he exhaled above your head, “...staying here.”

You sat up, straddling his lap once again, bringing yourself eye level to Suna. “I’m coming back, you know that.” You caressed your thumb on his cheek and felt your chest ache when he leaned into your touch, like he was desperate for you to stay. “So don’t talk like we’re never going to see each other again.”

He raised his hand to hold yours and kissed the inside of your wrist tenderly. “Yeah, we’re going to see each other again, but we’re not going to be the same again.”

You didn’t know how to respond. You racked your brain for rebuttals, yet nothing came to mind. All you knew was that you couldn’t lie to him—you didn’t have the heart to. What good would come of lying to the person you loved?

“C’mon, princess, say something. Don’t...don’t let me overthink like this. My head,” you heard him sniffle against your ear. “I keep thinking about all these things—about the future, and, baby, I just can’t see one without you.”

He trembled beneath you, hoping that you didn’t have to see him cry. You didn’t want to look up at him either, afraid that if you let go, you’d never feel his warmth again.

“Rin, please...please don’t say that.” You clutched onto the fabric of his shirt tighter, indulging in the scent of his fabric softener. “You’re making it hard for me to say goodbye,” you pleaded.

He was no better, begging with every word that fell from his lips. “Would it be so selfish of me to want you to stay?”

You lifted your head from his shoulder, wiping your cheeks with your sleeves before taking on the courage to look at his face. His eyes were stained red, bloodshot from the tears that poured. He bit his lip as a last ditch attempt to stop it from quivering—he didn’t want you to see him so...weak.

“Baby…” you whispered, hands finding their way to his face, rubbing away the wetness on his skin. You lowered your head and pressed your foreheads together. Letting out a dry laugh, your breath brushed against the tip of his nose. “Why are you making this so hard for me?”

The rest of the night was a blur of grasps and heartbroken refusals to say farewell.

The silence of the drive was anything but peaceful. Both of you dreaded the moment the rumble of the engine would cease—both of you dreaded the moment you’d have to say your final goodbye. The air was dense, with a sort of sadness that was too heavy to feel all at once. Almost like if one of you had spoken, you’d break down all together. It seemed as if the evening was all jumbled together—the car ride was reminiscent of a limbo you were both stuck in, like the minutes were slowed and rushed at the same time.

Like everything in life, all good things must come to an end. As you watched the image of your home enlarge from the distance, your heart sank to your feet. The moment was inevitable, and yet you hoped it would never come.

The minivan came to a stop in the exact same place it was when he had picked you up. Suna remained unmoving in his seat, hesitant to turn the keys in the ignition to the off position. Once the car stilled, your eyes glanced at the man to your right, tears threatening to spill from your waterline. Your hand wandered down to the lock of your seatbelt, wincing with your eyelids shut at the sound of the click—an action that forced streams to fall down your cheeks. The thick fabric whipped to your side, freeing you from the atmosphere that suffocated you, but you lingered in your spot. There was a ringing in your ears, and you were sure that Rintaro could hear it too. The smooth plastic of the door handle which you reluctantly hooked your fingers around burned against your skin. Everything felt sedated. Reality felt altered. Nothing felt real. The second you tore your eyes away from in front of you, Suna unbuckled his seatbelt and threw it to the side. He grabbed a hold on your wrist, using his other hand to bring your face to his.

Your bodies pressed together, fingers tangling in each other’s hair, clothes, and anything you could grab onto to bring the other closer. Your hearts raced, lips embracing in a delicate hold, breaths leaving your mouths in sync. It was no longer static. Everything felt warm. Everything felt happy. For the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt okay.

One last time, you broke free, instantly feeling colder. Your foreheads rested against each other, unwilling to leave the car and unwilling to let the other go.

You kissed his nose, feeling him smile under your touch. “Whatever happens during these next few years, promise me we’ll find each other again,” you whispered in the dark.

He kissed your cheek, releasing you from his grip and rubbing your shoulder, a gesture that let you know he was ready to say goodbye. “I’ll find you in every lifetime, this one is no different.”

You slowly pulled the door handle and hopped out, leaning over your seat to give him one last kiss. “Don’t forget about me,” you giggled as you shut the car behind you and rushed to make it back to your room before sunrise.

“I love you,” Suna whispered as he watched you fade from view.

© all content [unless stated otherwise] belongs to oikirstein 2021. do not modify or repost.

reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

❥𝓔𝓻𝓸𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓟𝓼𝔂𝓬𝓱𝓮

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐸𝑟𝑜𝑠! 𝐾𝑎𝑛𝑔 𝑌𝑒𝑜𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑔 × 𝑃𝑠𝑦𝑐ℎ𝑒! 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 (𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒)

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡, 𝐿𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑆𝑚𝑢𝑡, 𝐹𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑦/𝐺𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑘 𝑀𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑦 𝐴𝑈.

𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 11.8𝐾

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑦 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝, 𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠, 𝑚𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠/ 𝑑𝑒𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑠𝑢𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑠, 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑢𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒, 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘, 𝑑𝑒𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡.

~"𝑀𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑡.

𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐼 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑔𝑛𝑖𝑧𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢.

𝑌𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑢𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠." - 𝐴𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑎 𝐾𝑟𝑖𝑧𝑧𝑎𝑛.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

"Eros, my darling son.......come here for a minute."

The golden haired goddess gently stroke the dove that was nestled in her embrace, her eyes fixated on the ray of light that shone through the crystal windows of her palace.

She heard the footsteps of her beloved child stop right in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him bend down in obeisance to her, his arm rested across his chest.

"Yes mother?" The snowy white haired deity awaited her instructions.

"I've been rather uneasy lately my love. Very uneasy." She waved her hand and he slowly rose up, eyes meeting hers.

"Why is that?"

The Olympian got up from her seat, sending the little dove flying away to perch itself on one of the trees that decorated the room. Gracefully, she paced around the room, her hands folded in front of her abdomen, fingers tapping against each other as she mused about the current situation.

"There's been....some unsettling rumors being spread in the mortal world and it has reached Olympus..."

Eros waited for her to continue. It must have been something very grievous for her to be so out of sorts, and this was the same goddess who didn't fear the consequences when her long life affair with his father, Ares, was discovered.

She peered down the window, sneering at the city below that was barely visible with all the clouds covering a vast majority of it.

"Apparently one of the daughter's of the King of Athens is said to be remarkably beautiful....."

She paused as she took a deep breath, jaw clenching as she sputtered out the next words.

"So enchanting that they dare compare her to me....Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty itself....

They've even begun to bring gifts and worship her on the day they're supposed to pay respect and praise to me!"

Eros flinched slightly when she hastily turned around and marched past him, tipping over a table that held a tray with a golden tea set. But he didn't stop her, so used to his mother's infantile tantrums, although he was pretty shocked to hear the severity of the issue. To worship a mere mortal, one who was so far below one of the gods, and not just any god, but one of the 12 Olympians themselves, was inconceivable.

Aphrodite clenched and unclenched her fist, trying to control her fury threatening to seek vengeance.

"I need you to go down there and find out who she is. And when you find her.....shoot her." She commanded him.

Eros nodded, understanding what she was asking of him.

"Who would you like me to have her fall for?"

Aphrodite groaned in annoyance.

"Oh! I don't know! Anyone or anything! An old haggard beggar, a toad, have her go mad over a tree stump for all I care! Just make her go insane!" She threw a cluster of grapes across the room, scaring the flock of doves who flew away to different parts of the room.

"As you wish my goddess."

Eros bowed to his mother one last time before retreating out of the hall, and going to his own chambers to prepare his necessary equipment for the journey. He too was curious to find out just how captivating this woman really was.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

The young girl sighed softly as she looked at all the smoke coming out from the temple, the light scent of incense could be made out from her bedroom window. She was well aware and against what was going on in there. It was utterly disrespectful of her father to allow them and even encourage his citizens to offer sacrifices to her in Aphrodite's sacred temple, and on her very own yearly celebration. Had they no fear of a wrath from the gods?

She simply looked away and went to her own little corner where she made a small shrine dedicated to the goddess of beauty, love and fertility. She admired the small marble figurine of the goddess herself, and straightened out the roses and pearls surrounding it. She lit fire to a few myrtles and let them burn in a small ash tray as she murmured one of the many hymns in devotion to the deity. If she wasn't so soft hearted, she would have finished it off with sacrificing one of the best doves that were kept in the stables, but she could never bring herself to do that. She hoped the goddess would understand and forgive her, or at least, try to appease her for all the foolishness her father was causing.

She straightened her nightgown and crawled under the blankets of her grand bed. She was exhausted from the day's festivities and from the guilt and fear eating her alive. She shut her eyes, secretly hoping it was nothing but a bad dream and when she awoke, everything would be fine and back to the ways it was meant to be. She soon was fast asleep, only movements coming out of her body were the rising of her chest, signaling her breathing.

A soft thud landed on her balcony. The being looked behind him, making sure nobody had seen him. Not that it mattered, even if they did, they would tremble away in fear. Pushing the window open, he let himself inside the girl's bedroom, the one they reverenced as Psyche. His eyes scanned the room, landing on the bed which he cautiously approached. His hand reached out to pull away at the drapes covering the sleeping figure.

"Let's see who is it that is said to rival Aphrodite."

Eros pulled the drape away, letting the moonlight behind him shine on the face of the occupant on the bed. His arm fell to his side, slapping slightly against his thigh as he took in the beautiful countenance of the woman sleeping peacefully in front of him. He blinked slowly, trying to decipher if what he was seeing was indeed real. She was absolutely breathtaking, almost ethereal, never had his sight been blessed by such radiant and magnificent beauty, and he'd spent some time around Poseidon's Nereids.

Without realizing it, his hand reached out to caress her face or simply push back a lock of her hair, he himself didn't know what he was doing. But a small shifting of position on her part made him retract his hand, elbow grazing on the leather of the pouch on his back.

That's right. He still had a mission to carry out.

His arm reached back and grabbed an arrow from the pouch. He then proceeded to hover his hand above the tip, humming the soft incantation that would allow him to pierce the girl's heart and render her insane for the first object she saw. As he chanted, she began to stir in her sleep, putting Eros on guard, hoping she wouldn't wake up. He took in how her once peaceful expression, showed now sorrow and pain. It somehow pained him to see such a beautiful girl seem so troubled. He was so lost in her gaze that he didn't realise it until it was too late...

Until he felt the sharp tip of the arrow prick into his palm, even piercing the skin. Eros widened his eyes as he quickly yanked the arrow out, flinging it across the room. He looked at his hand, no blood coming out because he was an immortal, but he still clutched it as he felt an overwhelming pain and flutter course through his entire body. His heart started to pump at a faster pace, and his breathing became heavier. He tried to look away, but his mind forced him to look back at the unsuspecting girl on the bed.

"Oh no......what have I done?" He whispered softly.

Feeling dizzy, he scurried out the window, not caring anymore about being seeing in the dark of night, he just knew he wanted to back in Olympus as soon as possible. He flew back into the heavens, discarding only a few white feathers on his desperate flight back.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Psyche stood in front of the mirror, trying not to gaze at her own reflection, which she thought of as more of a curse than a blessing. She simply let her maids comb and adorn her hair as they wished and wrap a golden belt around her lilac colored tunic.

"My lady would you like breakfast brought to you or would you prefer to go down to the dining room?" One of them inquired.

She shook her head.

"I won't be taking breakfast today thank you."

The maids exchanged a puzzled look between each other but decided not to pry any longer. They simple allowed their mistress to wander off to the castle's pavilion located in the center of the gardens.

She preferred being alone these days, avoiding as many people as possible, but especially her father. Lately he had been rambling and complaining non stop at the lack of suitors coming to propose marriage to her. It'd been almost a year since he put out the announcement that she was of age and ready to be betrothed to any suitable prince or monarch, he had even raised the dowry triple what it was originally worth, but still, no one had come to claim her or propose.

"Perhaps it's just as well." She thought to herself. It wouldn't surprise her if this was how Aphrodite was showing her anger, by making her face the humiliation of being unwedded and childless.

Perhaps the biggest thing bothering her was the fact men just came to admire her beauty, but seemed to never really fall in love with her, and she herself couldn't fall in love either. Was she just a pretty face for people to gawk and fawn over? Was she destined to feel lonely and empty for the rest of her life?

"Little Psyche out here all alone?"

She stiffened when she heard the voice of her eldest sister, Amara, from behind her. Small steps let her know she was entering the pavilion and soon enough, she felt her presence stand right next to her.

"I wanted to be alone. That's all." She explained, although she really didn't feel the need to.

Her sister hummed softly.

"Would one really think that to be such a good idea? Father would be concerned if anything happened to his precious and beautiful Psyche, especially after that incident of the arrow in your room."

She was getting irritated at this point, her hand gripping harshly at the side of her tunic, creasing it slightly.

"That was many months ago Amara.....and I've said before that I don't like the title given to me by my father and the people....."

She took a deep breath before stating firmly:

"My name is Y/N and I shall be referred as such."

Her sister was taken aback by her sharp tone, but paid no attention to it. She opted for plucking some of the little violets that surrounded one of the pillars.

"As you wish....after all, anything you say is practically law. Anything you desire, you'll get." Her voice was laced with envy.

Y/N shook her head.

"Not everything."

Although she was referring to the fact her father refused to listen to her in the matter of Aphrodite's temple, her sister wrongly thought she meant the matter of matrimony.

"Oh don't worry little sister. Father is to go visit the Oracle of Delphi to seek help from Apollo in regards to your.......shameful circumstances."

Y/N couldn't stand it anymore. It's not that she hated her sister, but lately she seemed to enjoy in taking delight of her misery and pain, hurting her with her mock pity and double sided remarks.

"If you'll excuse me Amara, I shall go back inside."

Y/N was barely 4 feet away when her sister dismissed her.

"See you later......Psyche."

Y/N refused to eat during the entire day, worrying her loyal and trustworthy maids.

"But Miss....you must eat at least a little. Whatever shall you do if your beauty fades away?"

'Then I shall be content.'

She only thought those words but didn't say them out loud. She felt bad about her maids attending to her with such tenderness that she forced herself to at least eat some of the grapes in front of her. It seemed to put her maids more at ease and Y/N was happy about it.

"Anything in particular you wish for us to do Miss?"

There was one thing she really wanted. Something everyone around her never seemed to do anymore.

"Could you......could you please call me Y/N?"

The two women looked back and forth at each other, unsure of whether to refer to the princess in such an informal way.

"Please?"

Y/N was just craving to be reminded of who she truly was, be assured about her existence and her true person. Both women smiled fondly at her before curtsying to her.

"Lady Y/N."

She felt her heart full with warmth and felt happier in that moment than she had felt in the last 8 months that had gone by. But that happiness was short lived when her door swung open, her other sister, Melia rushing in, looking out of sorts and with fear in her eyes.

"Melia? What's wrong?"

Y/N stood up, but it was her sister who clutched onto her and sobbed on her neck.

"Oh poor Psyche! Why must this have happened to you? To my dear little sister?"

Y/N didn't know what to make of this, but it must be something dreadful if her usually composed and quiet sibling was hysteric. She pulled her back to take in her countenance.

"Tell me. What is it?" Y/N pleaded.

Melia pursed her lips before recounting what she heard and witnessed.

"Father came back from meeting with Apollo's Oracle......and Psyche, it's dreadful!"

Y/N gulped slightly. Although she was expecting the answer to not be a favorable one, she was not expecting this outburst.

"Tell me Mel.......am I not to get married ever?"

Y/N braced herself for the negative response.

Melia shook her head though.

"No Psyche.....it's much much worse than that."

Y/N felt her heart drop at that. What could there possibly be that was worse than not getting married?

"The Oracle told father that your husband has already been chosen for you. He gave us instructions that we are to deliver you to the top of Mount Lycabettus, dressed in black and to leave you there...."

She sniffled and held her handkerchief to her mouth.

"Will my husband meet us there?" She questioned.

Melia shook her head no.

"Well- then how can we be married?" She was beyond puzzled at this point.

"We don't know Psyche, the Oracle only said to deliver you. One thing is sure Psyche. Your husband is not mortal."

Y/N would have rejoiced at the information would it not have been for the terror in her sister's eyes.

"Melia tell me.....who exactly is my husband?"

Melia seemed troubled to reveal more information to her, but she knew she had to say it.

"We don't know. He refused to tell father. All he mentioned was that he flies through the skies and even the gods are terrified of him.....

"Psyche....I fear you're destined to marry a monster..."

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

The girl watched as her parents, sisters and their husbands disappeared from sight, not even leaving behind their footprints to keep her company. Crouching down, she settled herself onto the ground, her arms wrapping around to hug her knees. She sighed in despair as she thought about what was going to happen to her now. Was her new husband really a monster? It seemed to be the only logical explanation if even gods were afraid of him. The only thing she could think of was....

A titan?

'No it can't be.'

She quickly discarded that thought. All of the titans were locked away in Tartarus. And the world would have definitely known if a titan had gotten out.

She anxiously waited for a sign, a movement of some kind, but nothing ever came. All she had to accompany her besides her solitude was the light breeze that blew some of her hair in front of her face. She shivered slightly, her arms crossing over her chest as she rubbed them with her hands. She faintly noticed that the wind seemed to be getting a little more heavier, and it seemed as though fog started to appear around her. But Y/N couldn't really pay attention to it as she felt herself getting drowsy and tired. She struggled to keep her eyes open, but the feeling was overtaking her. Her eyes ended up closing as she fell back onto the moss underneath her, falling fast asleep without even knowing why.

While asleep, she felt a strange sensation of being lifted up and carried up into the sky, almost as if though she were flying.....but that was surely impossible? But it felt so real. She had a fantastical dream of flying above the peak of mountains, drift through the clouds in the sky and somehow even be close to the stars. She felt as if she were being carried in the arms of some strong entity. And at the end, she could faintly hear a voice assure her:

"Have no fear little one, for you are truly loved."

Awakening hours later, when it was even darker and more deep into the night than before, she sat up and looked around at her surroundings. The green moss from before was no longer accompanying her. Instead, she awoke to find herself placed on an ivory marble resting bench. Beautiful varieties of roses surrounded what she guessed to be a very beautiful and luxurious garden. Her hand reached out to caress one of them, its petals being one of the most soft things she'd ever felt.

Standing up, she followed the stone path that was right in front of her. A tiny river flowed through the garden, a slight trickling sound was the only noise that was heard. She stopped when a grand and extravagant mansion stood before her. It was 10 times more beautiful and seemed more expensive than the very castle she grew up in. Cautiously, she over to the front door, which seemed to be made out of pure gold, pearls adorning the edges of them.

Y/N was about to knock on it, but to her surprise, the doors opened by themselves. She slowly stepped inside, her eyes bulging out as her eyes took in the hall in front of her. Clean and neatly polished marble floor, crimson red silk drapes covering large and vast windows, the furniture looked unlike anything she had ever seen before. Her hand was gliding over the ottoman in the center of it when a voice called out:

"Welcome mistress! We have been expecting you!"

She whipped her head around, then looked at all directions, but found no one standing anywhere near her.

"Who...who are you?" Y/N fearfully looked at the ceiling then at every corner, wondering where the voice was.

"We're your servants mistress." A chorus of at least 5 women rang out, puzzling her even more.

"Where....are you?"

The invisible women giggled amongst themselves.

"We are right here next to you mistress. I'm afraid you just can't see us."

Y/N watched as a silver pitcher was lifted up in the air, pouring what seemed to be wine in a glass cup, which was then hovered right in front of her.

"Wine mistress?"

Y/N hesitantly took the cup, indeed feeling someone's weight let go of it. She took a small sip of the wine, its rich and crisp flavor enticing her to drink more of it.

"Would you care for any fruits?" A platter holding strawberries, grapes, cherries and blueberries were held up in front of her. They looked so fresh and ripe, Y/N couldn't help but reach for one of the grapes, her tastebuds becoming completely engaged at how delicious and juicy they were.

She no longer felt disturbed by the faceless voices talking to her, nor about the objects floating around, carrying articles that were being offered to her, and she did not get startled when she heard music filling the room, playing the most sweet and beautiful melody her ears were blessed to hear. She just let her invisible attendants feed her some exotic foods that she never even knew existed. She also didn't mind them guiding her to a lavatory, where there was a bathtub, the size of a large pond already waiting for her. She nearly slipped into another deep sleep when she stepped inside, the warm water relaxing her muscles while the scent of lavender calmed and eased her mind. After washing her body, her maids oiled and scented her body with vanilla and jasmine while they dried her. She saw as a periwinkle blue robe was extended towards her and Y/N slipped into it, her hands caressing the soft, velvet material, smoothing the folds on her waist and hips.

"Oh mistress! You look so beautiful!" One of them cheerfully exclaimed.

"You're the most beautiful creature we've been honored to serve." Another piped in.

"We're so happy to have you here with us. It shall be a lot more livelier now." She heard someone chuckle.

"I think our job for tonight is done. My lady, please step into the room behind the other door. The master will join you shortly."

Y/N was so filled with bliss and contentment, that she had completely forgotten why she was here in the first place. Recalling her sister words, she begged her maids not to leave her, but they apologized and retreated to who knows where, leaving her by herself once again. Her hand reached for the doorknob, turning it slowly before she stepped into the next room.

Y/N tried to move around in the space, but it was extremely difficult because the room was pitch black. She could barely make out the outlines of the chairs, the bed draped with curtains or the dressers. On the corner, she saw a single window, but the curtains were drawn, and even if it was open, the dark night would hardly help her see any better. Y/N out stretched her arms, grabbing onto the empty void around her to maneuver herself to the bed, where she settled down into, hugging her knees like she did back when her family left her on top of the mountain.

She rocked herself back and forth as many thoughts ran over her mind:

'When will he arrive? Will he be kind or not? What will he look like....

And who was he?'

Y/N rested her hands on her arms that were hugging her knees, her eyes closing, but she wasn't tired at all. She just wished time would speed up faster and someone could explain to her what was going on. She felt a light breeze suddenly pass through the room. Looking up, she saw that the curtains by the window had been moved, pushed slightly open, letting just the dimmest sliver of light pour in, but she still couldn't see anything.

She felt something .....someone else in the room with her. On edge, she quickly sat up from the bed and tried to make way back to the other room.

"You have nothing to fear my dearest Y/N."

She halted at the sound of her name. She was expecting to be called that odious title she was often referred to, but instead, she heard her very own name.

"How....how do you know my name?"

The deep, baritone voice spoke again.

"It wouldn't be fitting for a husband to not know his own wife's name, don't you think?"

Y/N eased slightly at his words but still felt nervous.

"Where...are you?" She took small steps, eyes squinting to see something, anything.

She felt a rush of warmth fill up her body when a gentle hand placed itself on her shoulder.

"I'm right here beside you, where I shall always be."

She didn't tremble at his touch, on the contrary, she relaxed and her fear was suddenly gone. Whoever the stranger was, he slowly turned her around to face him. She could make out a bit of his outline, but still couldn't define any of his features or details.

"Why aren't there any lamps? I can't see you."

Lifting her hand, he placed it on his cheek, his skin feeling as soft as a petal.

"See me with your touch my love."

Her hand delicately traced his features, trying to imagine what he looked like. He had a very sharp jawline, a well defined nose and delicately carved lips that tempted her to reach up and kiss them. She was still confused as to why she couldn't see him though. As if on cue, he spoke:

"I know it must be difficult for you to understand this Y/N. But please don't be afraid of me. I would never hurt you."

Y/N retracted her hand.

"My...my sister said you're a monster."

He chuckled heartedly, his voice full of music and splendor.

"Do I feel like a monster or sound like one?"

Y/N giggled softly, realizing it did seem silly.

"If you're not a monster though......why can't I see you?"

She could feel the man in front of her think about how to answer her. Sighing softly, he took her hand again, holding it with his two hands and running a thumb on the top of it.

"I'm afraid I can't give you the answer to that question yet...."

She felt her heart sink at his words. She lowered her head in disappointment. Not wanting to upset her more, he kissed the palm of her hand and swore:

"Just please trust me Y/N, and I'll promise to love you forever......can you trust me?"

Maybe she was mad or delusional, but in spite of all the mystery surrounding him, she sincerely felt the veracity of his promise and had no doubt in her mind about trusting him. She moved closer to him, accidentally stepping too far and colliding with his firm chest.

"Umph!" Y/N groaned slightly.

He giggled softly at her cute action. He saw as she tried to reach out again to feel him, but instead pulled her hand away.

"You can touch me love."

Her hands once again traced his smooth face, traveling down his neck before resting on his broad shoulders. Although he felt somewhat slim, his body seemed very toned and vigorous. Y/N wanted to drop her hands further but she felt to shy to do it. Once again, he read her mind.

"Y/N....it's ok. We're married." He drew out that last word, more to himself than to her.

Her hands pressed down across his chest. She could tell his tunic was made out of fine linen, even if she couldn't see it. His chest felt strong and sturdy, she bit her lip slightly as she pictured what it would look like in the light, without his garment.

She gasped when she felt him pull her against him, his breath against her lips, just wanting to close the space between them and kiss her. His finger traced the curve of her luscious and plump lips. Although she was content with everything he'd said so far, there was just one more question she had:

"I....... I don't know what to call you."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean....you know my name....but you never told me yours." She pulled away slightly.

He realized she was right. She felt him smile at her as he brought her face close to his again.

"Please call me Yeosang." Her heart fluttered when she heard his name.

Yeosang brushed his lips against hers.

"Trust me my dear. I love you with all my heart."

Y/N melted at his words and before she knew it, she whispered back:

"I love you too....Yeosang."

As soon as she spoke out those words, Yeosang could no longer control himself as he enclosed his lips over hers in a passionate and loving kiss. Y/N blushed at being kissed for the first time in her life, but happily returned the gesture, surprised that she easily could. Even though she couldn't see him, she knew Yeosang was beautiful, ethereal and very kind...

And she was already falling in love with him.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

It had been roughly 4 months into their marriage and Y/N was extremely happy. He'd visit her in the dead of night everyday, as usual, in the pitch black so she couldn't see him, but she had grown accustomed to that. He'd usually leave before she was even awake and before the sun would even start coming out. He'd always leave a red rose by her dresser everyday, attached with a small note filled with terms of endearment and vows of love and adoration for her, always succeeding in making her blush.

Y/N was more than content. Now, whenever she looked in the mirror, she wouldn't turn away nor hate the face she saw. She came to love her appearance now, because there was light and love in it. She was in love, she was loved and there was no greater feeling than that.

During the day, she would either spend time outside in the garden or inside, her maids, or rather, their presence, always keeping her company. She loved listening to their stories about the world she was now a part of, finding them extremely fascinating. They were all so gentle and caring towards her, attending to her every needs and overall staying by her side so she wouldn't get lonely.

"Won't you tell us something about where you are from for once Mistress?"

Y/N was elated, happily telling them all about her home, her family, how she grew up and various other aspects of her life.

"You seem very close to your family Misstress." One of them observed.

"I am. I love them very much, and I have such fondness for my sisters...."

She stopped at the moment. It hit her how she hadn't heard from her family since she got there, nor did they have any idea of her whereabouts or her fate. Her heart suddenly felt sad as she began missing them terribly.

"Mistress is something wrong?"

Y/N quickly plastered a smile back on her face, not wanting them to be concerned at all. Instead suggesting they all play a game together so she wouldn't think about it. But it was futile. Her mind kept thinking back to her family. She missed them more and more. She hardly ate anything else for the rest of the day, instead opting to go to her room rather early, even though it'd be hours before Yeosang got there. She wept silently, her tears staining the pillow underneath her face. She tried to keep a positive and cheerful attitude when he did finally got there, but he could sense that something was troubling his beloved wife.

"What's bothering you my love?"

Y/N sighed softly.

"I miss my family...."

Yeosang tightened his embrace around her, his lips kissing her temple. Y/N nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, drinking in his scent that always calmed and soothed her mind.

"They must be so worried about me. They probably don't even know if I'm alive or not." She continued to pour out her distress.

Yeosang was pensive for a moment, wondering what he could do to help his sweetheart.

"Would you like to write to them? I can have someone give it to them." He offered.

Although Y/N found it kind of him to offer it, more than anything, she wanted to see them.

"I was actually wondering......if maybe they could come see me?" She reluctantly asked.

She very well noticed how Yeosang tensed up. Even in the darkness, she had learned to read his body language and knew he was hesitating about what to respond.

"I......I'm not sure that's a good idea love..."

Yeosang's heart felt when he heard a disappointed sigh escape her lips. It hurt her to see her in such a state. All he wanted was to make her happy. So although there were going to be risks, he agreed.

"They can't meet me. But if you wish, I can have Zephyr bring them here just like he brought you."

Y/N became so happy at the thought of seeing them again. Cupping Yeosang's face, she kissed him fervently, her reaction making Yeosang chuckle.

"Does it really make you that happy?" He questioned as he caressed her face.

Y/N nodded happily.

"So I take it you won't need anything else tonight?"

Well....there was actually one more thing. Y/N bit her lip as she stared up at Yeosang with a sparkle in her eyes.

"Oh.....I see."

Y/N could hear the smugness in his voice, but she didn't care. Not when he lips made her melt, when his hands caressed and fondled her tenderly and especially not when he slid in and out of her in such a passionate and loving way, bringing her into such a euphoric state. Another thing she discovered about Yeosang: he was an amazing lover, she almost felt drunk in his love whenever his body became one with hers.

Yeosang let out a grunt when he spilled himself inside of her, enjoying the feeling of her walls tightening around him as she also reached her own high. Without pulling out, Yeosang bent down to kiss her again, his hand reaching down to press against her stomach.

"I can't wait until you become pregnant with my child. I bet you'll look even more lovely than what you already are."

Y/N felt her face flush at his words. Suddenly feeling confident, she teased him.

"How about we try again? Just in case."

Yeosang sucked in a breath, his hands gripping at her hips.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Y/N's hands clutched at the sheets underneath her, moans slipping out of her lips as Yeosang moved inside of her once again, this time at a more fast and rough pace than before.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Y/N offered more pastries to her sisters. Melia excitedly accepted them, loving how rich and exquisite the foods at her little sister's place were. Amara however refused, her eyes still looking around at the place. She was very put off by how strange Y/N's circumstances were. The weird wind that transported them there, the invisible servants, the fact they could not meet her husband? It was extremely confusing. But most of all, she was insanely jealous of how Y/N was living. Her mansion was 10 times better than hers, the food was of better quality than what was served at her castle and everything was just so much more expensive.

"You seem to be...very happy here." Amara pointed out, her lips pursed tightly.

Y/N couldn't help but smile.

"I'm more than happy. I love it here. And I love my husband."

"Such a shame we couldn't meet him. Do you know when we will get the opportunity?" Melia asked.

"Oh...umm.....the thing is...you can't meet him..." Y/N fumbled with the sash across her dress.

Her two older sisters looked at her incredulously, then they looked at each other with a suspicious look.

"So is it true then? That he's a monster with scaly skin, serpent tongue and sharp teeth?" Melia looked frightened.

Y/N slammed her fist on the table, outraged that they'd dare think such things of Yeosang like that.

"He's not a monster! He's beautiful, absolutely handsome and the most kind being I have ever met!"

Her outburst made them even more curious.

"Then tell me Psyche, what does he look like?" Amara raised an eyebrow.

"It's Y/N! My name is Y/N. And.....I......I don't know! But I just know he's beautiful!"

Melia seemed puzzled.

"You don't know? What does that mean?"

Feeling cornered, Y/N had no choice but to tell them how her husband would only visit her at night, shrouded in darkness and whisper loving words in her ear. That only served to sprout out more questions from her siblings.

"How can you possibly be in love with him if you've never seen him?"

"I just am!" Y/N exclaimed.

"If he doesn't see you during the day, where does he go to?" Amara pressed on.

"I don't know." Y/N answered.

Not wanting to miss the chance to hurt her younger sister, Amara smirked wickedly at her.

"I bet I know where."

It took Y/N a few seconds to comprehend what her sister was implying, but when she did, it only served to further anger her.

" You're wrong. I know What you're thinking and you're wrong. Yeosang loves me!" She was fuming at this point.

Amara however rolled her eyes at her foolishness.

"All right. Let's say he really is as handsome as you say he is. Why must he be so stubborn about not letting you see him nor know where he goes off to?"

Y/ N crossed her arms.

"I don't know. He asked me to trust him and I do".

Melia now seemed concerned for her.

"Psyche... do you not realize that maybe ...... he could be seeing other women while he's away?"

Y/N now froze at what her sister said. Her brain kept telling her not to listen to them, that Yeosang was faithful to her and would never lie to her. But then she remembered how her own sister's husbands behaved and she couldn't help but think if perhaps Yeosang would do anything similar like them.

"No..... it can't be true...."

Amara suspiciously came up behind Y/N, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"If he really did love you.....why would he force you to live with such doubts?"

That was the final drop that made the glass tip over. Y/N had to find out who exactly it was that was sleeping with her every night.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Y/N waited until Yeosang was fast asleep, his breathing calm and serene. Carefully, she peeled herself from his grasp and crept out of the bed and to one of the dressers. She silently took out a candle and match that she had secretly hid inside. Walking as cautiously as she could, she stood by the edge of the bed where Yeosang was. Taking a deep breath, she striked the match and lit up the candle, holding it up so she could finally see him for the very first time.

Her eyes grew wide as she stared into the most beautiful face she had ever seen. He was absolutely glorious. His hair was white like the snow in winter, skin fair like marble ivory, his jawline was chiseled to perfection with a nose that seemed to have been carved to perfection. And he layed there, sleeping soundly with absolutely no clue that she had just betrayed his trust.

"Oh no.....what have I done?"

Y/N was so horrified with herself that she unconsciously tumbled backwards, hitting herself on a piece of furniture. Suddenly Yeosang awoke, his eyes painted with agony once he realized what was happening.

"I.....I can explain!"

But Yeosang simply sat up without a word, already reaching for his tunic. He sighed as he stood up and walked towards the window.

"Please forgive me Yeosang! I beg you!"

Y/N dropped to her knees, tears pouring out her eyes. Yeosang pinched the bridge of his nose, head full of turbulent thoughts that he couldn't place in order.

"Please just say something!" She cried out, desperate to hear his voice.

"I knew it would be a bad idea to let you see your sisters. I knew they'd turn you against me and actually betray me...."

If they were still in the dark, Y/N would have still been able to recognize the hurt and pain in his words.

"I'm sorry Yeosang! I'm sorry for not trusting you! But I kept thinking about their words, they said you were probably visiting other-"

"You could have chosen to not listen to them! No one forced you to believe them! You chose to act on your own accord!".

It was the first time he had ever raised his voice at her, and it boomed all over the room, making her tremble in fear. Yeosang opened the window and stepped out into the balcony.

"No no! Please!"

Y/N ran after him, her hands wrapping around his neck in an attempt to keep him there. Gently, he pried her hands off him, looking somberly at her.

"My mother told me not to trust you. That you were a mortal woman and would never understand me or us, and break my trust. I could never believe that she was right....."

Y/N saw as tears filled on the brim of his eyes.

"But I was too madly in love to listen to her..... I guess I truly did get a taste of my own medicine."

Yeosang made way to leave again, but Y/N held onto him.

"Please don't leave me! I'll die without you! I love you Yeosang!"

Not able to contain his feelings anymore, Yeosang pushed her off him and turned sternly to her.

"Don't.....ever say such lies again...and don't address me so informally you lowly mortal. I am not your equal and I am no longer Yeosang to you..."

Y/N covered her mouth in terror and astonishment when ethereal and shiny wings sprouted from his back, making him look even more heavenly than he already was.

"I am Eros, son of Aphrodite and Ares, the god of love ......... and you......."

He sniffled as tears streamed down his face.

"I can't stay here knowing that I want to hold you..."

Without any other word, speedily flew out of there, disappearing from her sight. Y/N shouted for him, going mad at the thought that she had just lost the love of her life. She was so erratic that she didn't think twice before she flung herself down the balcony, not wanting to live without her love. Unfortunately for her, a large gust of wind stopped her fall, placing her gently on the ground, thwarting her plan.

"Let me die!" Y/N pounded the ground.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that Psyche. Aside from being tasked to bring you here, Eros appointed me to make sure no harm should ever come to you."

Although it was supposed to be calming, Zephyr's voice only angered her.

"So I can't even die?!"

Zephyr sent a small breeze, the only physical way of comfort he could bring her since he was invisible.

"Psyche, we both know you don't actually want to die."

"Yes I do! My heart is broken. My love is gone and it's because of my foolishness. I have nothing else to live for!" She declared.

Zephyr sighed.

"My lady....all hope is not lost. I may perhaps.....know a way of helping you."

Y/N perked her ears at his words.

"But first, allow me to tell you a little story, one you don't know about but in which you were the main protagonist."

Y/N watched as a swirl of clouds formed above her, Zephyr trying to make his presence manifested as he began recounting a story:

"Now...it all began when the people began to worship you instead of Aphrodite. I know, we all do you tried to stop them. We weren't blind to it. But Aphrodite is a jealous goddess. She could not stand someone being compared to her. So she sent Eros to you with the task of making you fall in love with a toad or something similar."

Y/N didn't seem too surprised by that. She knew fully well who Eros was and why he was feared even among gods, because no one was immune to his arrows that made them fall in love.

"He came to you one night while you were sleeping. He was so distracted by your beauty that he ended up pricking himself with his own arrow."

Now it made sense to her what he meant when he said he had gotten a dose of his own medicine. She was shocked that this actually happened.

"Eros had fallen in love with you. Curious isn't it, that while you were the most admired woman in the country, no one proposed. Wanna know why? Because Eros stepped in every time, making any suitor fall in love with someone else so they wouldn't take you away from him."

Y/N remembered all those months where no one approached her. Now it all made sense.

"Poor Eros was also begging his mother to let him marry you. But of course, being as stubborn as she is, Aphrodite refused. It became such a quarrel between them that Eros refused to obey her anymore if she didn't agree. Of course, she couldn't have that, so she allowed him to marry you on one condition: your love had to be put to a test....which....I think you know what it was."

Y/N nodded. He asked her to trust him even if she couldn't see him, but she betrayed him.

"Aphrodite probably isn't surprised. She expected it all along. But Eros......he was so in love with you that he put all his faith and trust in your love. And now.....he's probably back home again, moaning and crying just like when he came back that night he met you."

Now the guilt began to eat her up.

"I don't deserve him. I never did. I deserve to die."

Zephyr sighed once again.

"Now now child. As I said. Not all hope is lost. Listen very carefully to me Psyche. Here's what you're going to do."

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Y/N waited for the goddess to arrive. Her fingers fidgeted nervously, playing with the belt on her tunic. She suddenly felt a gush of wind pass by her. Light started to emanate from the ground. Y/N stared in wonder as a powerful entity appeared before her, looking so radiant and angelic that Y/N froze in place before remembering who was standing in front of her. She fell to the ground in honor and respect for the goddess in front of her.

"My goddess Aphrodite. I am your humble servant who has offered sacrifices at your temple and-"

"Oh stop groveling like a little bitch and get up." The goddess sneered at her.

Y/N slowly got up. Aphrodite stepped closer to her, one of her slender fingers tilting her chin up as she closely scanned her rival's face. Bewilderment took over her features, a scoff coming out of her mouth.

"Impressive. Very extraordinary. ..."

She let go of her and backed away.

"Pity though that your eyes are still red and puffy from weeping like a child. It really does not suit you....nevertheless, even I acknowledge you're beautiful and pleasing...."

She crossed her arms.

"No wonder my son is so smitten with you."

Y/N glanced up at the mention of Yeosang.

"Tell me, how is Yeosang? How is my husband."

Aphrodite lifted a hand.

"First of all, you have no right to call him by his birth name. You shall only address him by his godly name you mortals know. And second, he isn't your husband anymore, not after you broke your end of the marriage."

Being reminded of her acts, Y/N once again felt remorseful and ashamed. But she was not about to give up.

"If there's anything I can do to mend things, I'm prepared to do it."

Aphrodite rolled her eyes.

"Yes yes I know very well you are willing to. Zephyr didn't bring you here just for giggles or a cup of tea. And either way, sooner or later Zeus and Hera would have been on my ass about intervening, not to mention that his father wouldn't leave me alone if he saw the state his son was in."

Y/N beamed with joy at the thought of being able to mend things with her love.

"Thank you oh most merciful goddess!" Y/N resisted the urge to throw her hands around the goddess and hug her.

Aphrodite, however, dismissed her thanks.

"Don't get so happy yet foolish girl. I haven't even told you what the tasks are yet."

Beckoning her to follow, Aphrodite lead her through a meadow and deep into a forest. There, she approached a tall laurel tree and pointed at something on the floor.

"Before your eyes, you see a pile of different types of grains. Your job is simple: separate them all and arrange them into piles."

Y/N's jaw dropped at the task.

"That's impossible! It's not simple!"

Aphrodite merely shrugged. "If you truly love Eros, you'll find a way."

She turned away and began walking back to where she came from, but not before telling her:

"Oh and Psyche? You have until sundown to finish."

Y/N knew the goddess was probably laughing by now, already gloating in her failure and inability to finish such a task. She slumped down on the ground and began picking at the grains. They all looked too similar, there was no way to tell them apart. Y/N flung the grains back in the pile.

"It's hopeless..."

She wasn't offered a second chance, she was merely being humiliated for the own amusement of Aphrodite. Y/N couldn't help but wonder if she deserved this....

Suddenly she felt something crawl up on her hand. Looking down, she saw a tiny ant perched on one of her fingers.

"Hello most beautiful mortal. Please don't cry. Let me assure you that this grain will be sorted before Aphrodite comes back."

If Y/N hadn't already seen so miracles and fantasy sightings since she arrived, she would have seriously thought she was insane for thinking an ant was actually talking to her. She watched as thousands of other ants crawled up and began carrying the grains out of the pile, effectively assorting them into neat and tidy piles.

"How are you..?"

The tiny ant let out a squeaky laugh. "This is our specialty my lady. We do this every year."

"But...why are you helping me?" She couldn't understand why they would help her.

"Don't fret about that right now. Leave this all to us and just worry about being reunited with your loved one."

Y/N was touched by their tremendous kindness, thanking them incessantly as they eagerly finished what seemed to not an impossible task for her. True to their word, before the sun set, it was already finished. 5 piles stood in front of her. The ants bid her farewell and good luck for any upcoming tests Aphrodite was going to put on her.

When the goddess came to inspect the work, her eyes nearly bulged out when she saw it was accomplished. Scoffing, she crossed her arms.

"I see you finished it....very well. Tomorrow I shall take you to do the second task. But trust me, you won't get very far."

The goddess was so sure Y/N would never be able to finish them, but she didn't count on the fact someone was pulling strings behind the scenes to make sure Y/N would be successful. When Y/N was tasked to collect the gold fleece from the magical sun rams, the mystery person asked the reeds growing on the riverbank near her, to tell Y/N to wait until the rams left the pasture to fall asleep in a meadow, then she'd be able to collect fleece that would usually get caught on the brambles where they often played or fought in. On her third task, she had to collect water from a pit that was guarded by a fearsome dragon. Y/N dared not approach the beast, but once again, the hidden figure sent an enormous eagle to help her by flying her down the pit while the dragon slept so she could fill up the bottle Aphrodite gave her. Y/N asked the eagle, like she did the reeds and ants, why were they helping her, but all of them remained silent, not answering her question. They only wished her luck and encouraged her to stay determined to win back her husband.

Aphrodite took the bottle in her hands, fury in her eyes as she flung it across the room in pure outrage.

"I don't know what kind of tricks you've pulled to accomplish these tasks so easily, but I will not stand for it any longer!"

Determined to make sure Y/N would never see her son no matter the cost, she declared her last mission:

"You must go into the Underworld and bring me Queen Persephone's beauty cream, the one she makes herself. I was going to go there myself....but you can do it for me."

Aphrodite's eyes did not hide her malice or her hatred towards the poor girl.

"But....no human can descend into the Underworld and return!" Y/N exclaimed.

"Then I guess you shall have to be the first."

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Y/N touched the ground softly as Zephyr dropped her down.

"Psyche listen to me very carefully. There is a way for mortals to go into the Underworld and return alive. But pay very close attention or you'll never see the light of day."

Out of thing air, Zephyr made 2 coins and a loaf of bread apart before her.

"The coins are for Charon. He's the boatman that will take you to the Underworld and will also bring you back. The bread is for Cerberus."

Y/N gulped at the mention of the dog that guarded the gates of the Underworld.

"You mean.....the one with 50 heads?"

Zephyr laughed.

"You humans sure do like to add charm to stories. No Psyche. Cerberus only has 3 heads. He won't do anything to you while going in, it's when you're getting out that'll be the problem. You see, he's not guarding souls from going in, he guards them from leaving."

Y/N nodded, drinking up all the information he was feeding to her.

"When you're leaving, give a piece to each of the heads, it'll put him to sleep long enough for you to get out of there as fast as you can."

"Got it."

Y/N began walking into the foggy mist, trembling slightly as she realized she was about to be in front of the gates of hell very soon.

"Another thing! Accept no food or drink and do not rest at all! Just go in, take the cream and get out. I'll be waiting here for you."

"Thank you Zephyr."

Y/N wandered through the dense and humid mist that blurred most of her vision. She spotted a light looming out of the water and headed towards it. She stopped when she reached the end of the dock and stood face to face with a dark cloaked figure. Its face was completely hidden by the hood, the only thing she could see were its hands that were holding a staff that was no doubt used to row out boat.

"Are you.....are you Charon?"

The cloaked figure simply nodded very slowly.

"Can you take me to see Queen Persephone?"

Charon did not respond either that time, instead he held his hand out. Y/N now could clearly see that his hand was only bone, absolutely no flesh or skin surrounding it. Although startled, she handed one of the coins to him, which he put into a small purse that he kept tied to his waist. He signalled for her to get in. Y/N had some difficulty getting into the boat, slamming down on it, her bum hardly hitting the wood floor. She was sure if Charon was able to, he'd probably be laughing at her. He waited until she was settled into the boat before he began rowing down the Styx river.

Y/N hugged her knees as her eyes scanned everything. So far only the splashing of water and the silent boatman kept her company. And then a foul and putrid stench filled her nostrils, making her want to gag. As she kept looking around, she noticed what seemed to be people standing by another dock, looking pitiful and some even crying.

"They're the souls of people whose families didn't pay the fee or didn't have a burial upon death." Charon spoke up for the first time, his voice sounded hollow and had somewhat of an echo in it.

She understood what he meant. All people usually put a coin under their deceased loved ones tongue as payment for a ride to the Underworld.

"Will they stay there forever?"

Charon let out a raspy breathe.

"They'll stay there for a hundred years before they're allowed to cross over. Our master is not that cruel as you mortals depict him."

Mention of his master sent Y/N into panic. She was about to meet the actual god of the Underworld and his wife. She shivered as she remembered all she was ever taught about him: her teachers often painted him as a cruel, evil and wrathful god that loved tormenting the souls that were sent to him. The only reason he had a wife was because he kidnapped her, only allowing her to spend time in Olympus for half of the year. Y/N feared seeing him.

"This is the end of your journey."

Y/N saw a colossal black door in front of her. She lifted her hand to knock on it, but wondered if it was even possible for them to hear her. She felt someone or something sneeze by her right side so she turned. First there was only a gigantic dog head that soon turned into three, Y/N almost fainted when it began approaching her. This had to be Cerberus. The hellhound merely scanned her, puzzled as to why an alive human would be there. But he went back to his job and used one of his heads to push open the door for her. Y/N was prepared to see a sea of tormented souls being stirred in fire or some other kind of torture, but instead, she walked in a long and regal corridor, much like the one back home in Athens. Everything was decorated in either black or a deep purple color. At the very end, she saw two thrones side by side, black and made out of hard iron and steel. 2 figures sat by them and when she reached close enough, she was face to face with the rulers of the Underworld.

As per custom, Y/N bowed to them, trembling in the process. The monarchs looked at each other in confusion.

"You are not dead nor dying, what business do you have here?" A male voice inquired.

Y/N swallowed harshly, trying to speak but fear made her paralyzed and unable for recall what she was there to do. Noticing how scared she was, the queen stood up and walked over to her. She gently lifted Y/N up, her hand cupping her chin to look at her. Y/N finally had a glimpse of the Underworld queen and she was mesmerized. She wasn't as beautiful as Aphrodite, but her beauty was so haunting and eerie, unlike anything she'd ever seen before. It made her very unique and therefore more interesting in her eyes. Y/N felt self conscious now. She hadn't properly cleaned up or slept ever since Aphrodite had her do all those tasks, so she probably looked like a mess in front of the beautiful queen.

Persephone merely smiled at her, a genuine and kind smile.

"You're Psyche aren't you?"

Her eyes widened at the mention of her name. The man behind her also became curious at him mention of it.

"How do you know who I am?" But Y/N soon wanted to slap herself for asking that. She was a goddess, of course she'd know.

The lady chuckled. "Not everyday one meets a face that rivals Aphrodite's. I've heard so much about you."

She turned back and Y/N assumed she was going to take her place on the throne, but instead, she shocked her when she opted to sit on her husbands lap, her arms wrapping around his neck. He visibly stiffened, and Y/N was surprised to see him......blush?

"So tell me. Has the mighty goddess of beauty sent you here for another task?"

Persephone looked back to see Y/N with a mouth wide open.

"We know all about your endeavors to win your husband back. News reaches here first before it reaches Olympus. Gives a little entertainment to us and our subjects you know."

She waved her hand and instantly a grey and cloudy figure appeared before her, offering her wine or food from a platter. She didn't want to seem rude, but she remembered what Zephyr said and thus refused any of it. Persephone chuckled softly.

"Very smart." Persephone observed. She above anyone knew what eating food from the Underworld would mean.

"So tell me Psyche. What has she sent you here for?"

Y/N began explaining how the goddess wanted some of her beauty cream. Persephone rolled her eyes, knowing all too well how vain Aphrodite was. Her fingers stroked through her husband's hair, puzzling Y/N more. If she was kidnapped and forced to marry him, how could she be so....in love with him? Persephone only took her attention away from her husband when another grey figure brought out a box to her. Thanking the servant, she held out the box to Y/N.

"Take this to Aphrodite and be reunited with your love."

Y/N thanked the merciful queen and walked back, now more happy at the thought of seeing Yeosang again. Persephone watched her with a motherly gaze, feeling somewhat nostalgic.

"You seem to be very interested in that human." Hades' voice broke her trance.

"She's an extraordinary girl if you ask me. And she's doing everything for love."

She smirked as she cupped her husband's face.

"Reminds me of a certain someone who also went to great lengths to win the person he loved the most."

The Underworld God cleared his throat.

"Love makes us do crazy things sometimes." He justified himself.

Persephone nodded and leaned in.

"I know. That's why am going to vouch for her when Zeus holds the meeting."

Hades looked puzzled. "What meeting?"

The queen let out a hearty laugh before kissing his lips.

"Married life has made you lose some of your sharpness my dear lord." She teased.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Y/N successfully fed the bread to the demon hound and made it back across the Styx with Charon's help.

"Thank you Charon." She handed the other coin to him.

"First time anyone has thanked me to the work I do." Although he tried to be neutral about it, Charon's voice had a lighter and more grateful tone to it.

Y/N crossed the swamp again and came back to the meadow where Zephyr had left her. She called me to him, but he did not answer. Y/N sat on the grass and waited for him, growing tired in the process. It had been 4 very long and tiring days and she was beginning to feel the intensity of them. Her eyes began to flutter, trying to stay awake, but tiredness began to overtake her. Her gaze fell on the box she was holding. Feeling curious, she slowly opened the box to peer into its contents. A sudden burst of light shone right in front of her, the power being too much for her and instantly, she fell unconscious on the floor.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Eros sighed softly to himself, the longing for his wife becoming too unbearable.

"Would you please stop that moaning? It's getting on my nerves." His mother said from the doorway.

"I miss her...." He covered his face with the pillow.

Aphrodite scoffed.

"Seriously this lovesick fool."

Eros ignored his mother, all his thoughts were about Y/N and the last time he saw her. He recalled the harsh words he said to her, regretting them so much, each letter feeling like a stab to his heart. Although it hurt him to have her distrust him, it hurt even more to be separated from her. He wanted her back in his arms, he wanted to kiss her, he was going even more insane than the first time when he pricked himself on his arrow.

Suddenly he heard a commotion coming from the living room, with the way a voice roared like thunder, he knew who had just came in. He got up, ready to intervene in case the two individuals in front of him started getting physical. Not noticing him, they just continued their screaming match.

"I've put up with so many of your antics, but this my dear goddess, is low even for you!"

The anger in his father's voice was unmistakable, but it was even more serious than all the other times he'd quarreled with his mother.

"Oh shut up Ares! I did what I had to do for our dear son."

Aphrodite twirled her hair on her finger, batting her eyelashes at her longtime lover, hoping to seduce him and get his mind off the subject, but this time it didn't.

"No, you did this because you're a selfish, conceited and cruel woman! Putting an innocent girl through so many hardships just for your own amusement! Don't you think Psyche and Eros have been through enough already?"

Now it was Eros' turn to make his presence known.

"What about my wife?"

Both of his parents turned to look at him, one in shock at being discovered and one in sad pity for him and his love. Ares crossed his arms.

"Well? Tell him Aphrodite. Tell him all about the tasks you made Psyche do these past days." He challenged her.

Eros looked at his mother, waiting for her to answer, but she kept her lips shut. Getting fed up, Ares spilled everything to him. Eros immediately got worried.

"Where is she now?"

Ares looked to the goddess in front of him as he did not know what the last task was. Gathering some of the rage he inherited from his father, Eros harshly grabbed his mother and shook her.

"Where is my wife?!"

Aphrodite pushed him off her.

"I sent her to the Hades and Persephone."

Eros wasted no time and grabbed his bow and arrow. The Underworld was dangerous even for a God and he knew he had to go get her before anything happened to her.

"Eros! Don't you dare go after her! She isn't your wife anymore!"

Turning back to his mother, he looked at her in defiance.

"She is my wife. She'll always be my wife. I love her.....and I'm going over to her now."

Spreading his wings, he flew as fast as he could to the swampy forest where she had been hours earlier. He asked the boatman if he had seen her, but Charon only said she had completed her voyage and was headed back home. He breathed a sigh of relief, at least she was alive. He flew back to his mansion, bursting the doors open, alarming the servants who were no longer invisible. He didn't spare a glance at them, he simply ran upstairs to his room. Slamming the door open, he saw as Zephyr, now in his physical form was hovering over an unconscious Psyche.

"No..."

Eros ran over to her side, taking her hand in his.

"The power inside the box her majesty gave her is too much for a mortal to bear. I've tried everything, but she still shows no sign of waking up. Her body has also been weak these past days due to exhaustion. ....and heartache." Zephyr said somberly.

Eros spilled tears when finding out all she had been through and how much suffering he had put her through.

"I'm so sorry my darling."

His arms encapsulated her in a tight embrace, almost crushing her from the intensity. Eros sobbed uncontrollably. Zephyr decided to retreat from the room, giving him the space he needed.

Brushing out some of her hair, he pressed his forehead against hers.

"Please don't leave me.." he whispered before pressing his lips against hers.

He heard as she started breathing slowly, pulling away to check on her. Y/N's eyes slowly opened, thinking she was dreaming when she saw her love's handsome face in front of her.

"Yeo- Yeosang?"

His heart started beating faster when he heard her call him by his name.

"Oh Y/N thank Zeus you're all right!"

Y/N held him tightly, not wanting to let go.

"Yeosang I'm so sorry! I should have listened to you but I was so stupid!"

He hushed her, his hands caressing her arms.

"It's ok. I've forgiven you my darling. I don't care anymore. All I want is for us to be together again."

Y/N hesitated.

"Will we be allowed to?"

Clearing his throat, they both turned their attention to Zephyr who came back.

"Even if Aphrodite won't like it, she'll have no choice but to allow you two to be together after a power greater than her allows it."

Yeosang and Y/N looked at him in confusion. Zephyr once again began explaining:

"I'm sure Y/N..." He smiled when he called her by her real name for the first time.

"You've been curious about why so many creatures helped you while you were performing the tasks for Aphrodite."

Y/N nodded, none of them had told her why they'd help her.

"They were all sent by none other than Zeus, who had been watching all this happen and agreed it was unfair of Aphrodite to put you through such hardships."

The couple couldn't believe their ears. The king of the gods himself intervened on their behalf.

"He looks favorably upon your marriage and has even called a meeting to determine if Y/N should be allowed to become an immortal herself."

Y/N's mouth dropped unable to comprehend his words, but Eros was delighted. He could finally be together with his wife for all eternity, not fearing that one day he'd lose her in death because she was human. He felt so grateful to Zeus.

"It shall be put to a vote and needless to say, your mother won't say yes."

Of course they expected that.

"But fear not. There's already many who are willing to vouch for you. Persephone and Hades for example, Ares, Apollo, Demeter and I'm willing to bet that Dionysus will show up drunk and will agree to anything."

They all let out a chuckle at that.

"I'll let you know what the results are. Zeus agreed it'd be better if you two weren't there. He wants a peaceful meeting without Aphrodite throwing a tantrum."

Leaving them alone, the two lovers stared at each other for a while, unable to believe how lucky they were. Y/N reached up to touch Yeosang.

"It's ok Y/N. I'm real and I promise I won't ever leave you again."

His hand cupped the side of her face, thumb drawing circles on her cheek.

"I love you and I promise to love you my heart......

For all eternity."

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

[dccomicsimagines]

You are in Love - Tim Drake x Reader

Requested by azul23blue  -  Hi! Do you write song fics? If you do could you write a Tim Drake x Reader with the song "You Are In Love" by Taylor Swift?

***

One look, dark room Men just for you Time moved too fast You played it back

Tim sighed, leaning against the wall as the people mingled around the ballroom in front of him. He rolled his shoulders and suppressed a yawn. Galas were never his thing, but since it was a Wayne Foundation fundraiser, he had to attend. He took a drink from a waiter’s passing tray when he saw you.

You were on the dance floor with Dick Grayson. Tim’s eyes widened as he saw Dick was smiling. He spun you around, making you laugh. You were so beautiful when you laughed. Tim’s heart sank. Dick already charmed you.

Tim downed his glass in his misery as the song ended. You and Dick left the dance floor. Tim tensed when he saw you both heading toward him. 

“Hey Timmers, you mind taking care of (Y/N) for me? I got to go mingle with the old money,” Dick said, flashing Tim a knowing smile. Tim frowned, wondering if Dick was up to something. 

“Hi,” you said shyly. Tim’s heart skipped a beat when you gave him a halfhearted wave. 

Realizing he should say something, Tim cleared his throat. “Sure. Hi.” 

Dick chuckled, walking away. You leaned against the wall next to Tim. Tim’s entire body threatened to burst into flames. Damn Dick for doing this to him.

A waiter came by again. Tim put his empty glass on the tray and took another one. He took a sip before he realized he should have taken one for you and quickly grabbed another glass as the waiter left. The drink sloshed dangerously close to the edge. “Here.” He choked, handing it to you without looking at you.

“Thank you.” You laughed. It rang appealingly in his ears. He sneaked a glance at you only to find you looking back at him. You winked, and Tim lost his heart to you all at once.

***

Buttons on a coat Light hearted joke No proof not much But you saw enough

“Look at this place,” you gasped, walking ahead of Tim. “It’s beautiful.” You spun back to look at him. Tim’s heart fluttered at how good you looked in his suit coat. 

“Gotham always is at night. At least from far away.” Tim reached out to take your hand as you both stood next to the railing of the roof. 

You hummed, squeezing his hand. “I only moved here a month ago, and I’ve only went from my apartment to work and back.” Your other hand played with the buttons on his suit coat. “Tonight is the first night I’ve been out.”

“You picked an interesting place for your first night out,” Tim chuckled. Once he got over his nervousness, being with you was easy. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a conversation with someone that wasn’t about patrol or case solving. 

“I had to come for work.” You let go of his hand to lean against the railing, looking out at the view. Tim watched you, awed. “I started to get harassed by Mr. Elliot when Dick asked me to dance.” 

Tim snorted. “I thought you were Dick’s date.” 

Your laughter filled the air as you turned to face him, pulling Tim’s suit coat tighter around you. “No. He was just being nice to me.” Relief washed over Tim. You weren’t interested in Dick. “What do you do for fun?” 

Tim jumped. “Not much.” He bit his lip, torn between wanting to impress you. “I’m working on rebuilding my computer.” It was the bat computer, but he couldn’t tell you that. 

“Ooo, that sounds interesting.” You smirked. “I don’t know much about computers, but I do know not use "beef stew" as a computer password. It's not stroganoff.” You laughed when Tim blinked at you.

“Wow, that’s good.” He chuckled once he pushed aside his surprise. “I could help you sometime if you want?” His heart pounded like a bass drum. 

“I think I’d like that.” You smiled. Tim’s heart skipped a beat. He felt like his life would never be the same.

***

Small talk, he drives Coffee at midnight, the light reflects The chain on your neck He says look up And your shoulders brush No proof, one touch You felt enough

Tim took a sip of his coffee as he drove toward the manor. You were beside him, drinking your own coffee. After helping you with your computer, Tim took you out for dinner. The spark between you hadn’t died, and long after dinner, you both drove around until it was midnight. Even then, neither of you wanted to leave. Tim bought the coffee and decided he’d take you to the manor to show you the gardens. 

The manor came into view. “Wow, so you used to live here?” you gasped.

“Yeah, Bruce adopted me after my dad died. I lived here until I was eighteen, then I moved into the city. Not as long of a drive to work that way.” Tim smiled, putting himself in your shoes to see the manor as you saw it.

“Are you sure Mr. Wayne won’t mind us stopping by at midnight?” You took a long sip of your drink. Your eyes still studying the manor. 

Tim bit his lip to hold back a laugh. “Oh, he’s not home. He’s a night owl.” 

“Kinda like us, huh?” You got out of the car once Tim parked. Tim followed you. 

The two of you only made it halfway to the garden before Alfred mysteriously appeared from around a corner. “Oh, Master Tim, I didn’t expect you here today,” Alfred said, eyeing you. You gave him a sheepishly wave. Tim reached back to take your hand.

“Sorry, I wanted to show (Y/N) the gardens.” He blushed when he saw Alfred eyeing your joined hands. 

“Of course, enjoy yourselves.” Alfred smiled knowingly at Tim before slipping away. “It was nice to meet you, Mx. (Y/N).” 

“It was nice to meet you too.” You blinked in surprise.

“He calls everyone that. It’s just what he does.” Tim chuckled, leading you outside. The garden was beautiful. Tim heard your breath being taken away. He squeezed your hand. 

The two of you wandered the gardens, sipping at your coffees for a long time. Tim stopped you suddenly, nodding up at the sky. “Look up.” 

“Woah, a shooting star,” you laughed in awe. Your shoulder brushed with his. Tim’s entire body jolted as if it was a spark of electricity. He looked at you, making a wish that this was the start of something wonderful where he would never be lonely again.

***

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you You can feel it on the way home, way home, you You can see it with the lights out, lights out You are in love, true love You are in love

Tim smiled, glancing over at you as you slept. He was driving you home from the manor. Part of him wanted to ask you to stay the night, but he knew it was too soon. Besides, he didn’t want your first meeting with Bruce and Damian to be after you spent the night. 

The car was quiet. The only sound was your breathing, slow and even. Tim reached over to take your hand. In your sleep, you squeezed his hand back.

Once he parked outside your apartment building, he gently woke you up. You blinked. “Oh, did I fall asleep? I’m sorry.” You yawned, stretching.

“Yeah, but it’s okay.” Tim knew the smile on his face was dopey, but he didn’t care. “Do you want me to walk you in?” 

You glanced at the building then back at Tim. “Sure.” Tim turned off the car, and got out. He came around to open your door. “Thank you.” You climbed out, yawning again. The two of you walked to the door. You entered your code and lead Tim inside. He wrapped his arm around you as you both entered the elevator.

“This was an amazing night,” Tim whispered. You rested your head on his shoulder. He loved the weight of it, the trust that came with it. 

“It was.” You buried your nose into his shoulder, breathing deeply. “We should do this again.” 

Tim’s heart threatened to burst. “How about the day after tomorrow? Give ourselves a day to see if we can stand each other.” 

You laughed. The elevator doors opened and you both walked down the hall to your door. “Or to see how much we want to see each other again?” You paused outside of your door and took out your key. Unlocking your door, you turned back to Tim. “Call me.” You quickly kissed his lips before disappearing inside.

“Wow.” Tim chuckled, touching his lips with his hands. “I will.” He walked back to the elevator, yet every part of him didn’t want to leave.

***

Morning, his place Burnt toast, Sunday You keep his shirt He keeps his word

“Damn it,” Tim hissed as dark smoke floated out of the toaster. He ripped out the plugin and set the toaster out on the balcony before the fire alarm went off.  “Maybe I should just order breakfast?” he mumbled to himself. He went back inside to grab his phone and opened the uber eats app. 

“Good morning,” you yawned, coming out of Tim’s bedroom in only his shirt. Tim swallowed hard, focusing on his phone before you both ended up in the bedroom again. “What’s burning?” 

“The toast.” Tim bit his lip nervously. “I was making you breakfast, but I failed and now I’m ordering it.” 

You laughed, coming up to hug him from behind. Tim melted into your arms. “Thank you.” You kissed his cheek. “Where are you ordering from?” 

“That one place where we met for lunch last week,” Tim said, turning to kiss your lips. 

“Yum.” You pulled away to get a cup of coffee.

After breakfast, you got ready to leave. “Are you still coming by my place later?” you asked as you grabbed your bag.

“Of course.” Tim kissed you one last time. “How could I not be?” You smiled, kissing him back before disappearing out the door.

It wasn’t until hours later when Tim was looking for his shirt that he realized you were still wearing it when you left. He laughed, loving the idea you were still in his shirt.

***

And for once you let go Of your fears and your ghosts One step, not much, but it said enough

“Two Face is holding up the bank on King Street,” Batman said as the batmobile zoomed toward said bank. It was about two in the afternoon. The batmobile attracted a lot of attention for being in the daylight. “I should have known. The bank just received a rare shipment of double sided coins.” 

Tim’s blood ran cold from the passenger seat. “Oh my god, (Y/N) was supposed to go to that bank. They were setting up an new account.” 

“TT, who cares about your lover, Drake?” Damian snapped from the backseat. 

“Damian.” Bruce growled dangerously. Damian blushed and looked down. 

“Drive faster,” Tim said, his heart in his throat. He took out his phone, texting you to see if you were still at the bank. You didn’t respond. He traced your phone. His stomach dropped to his feet when he saw you were still at the bank. “Shit.” 

Bruce glanced over at Tim. “Your...friend is there?” 

“His whore, you mean?” Damian snapped, snarling. Bruce glared back at him in warning.

“Shut up.” Tim swung back, sticking his finger in Damian’s face. “I love (Y/N) and they are in danger. I don’t need your insults right now.” Tim didn’t realize he just said he loved you. His fear overwhelmed his thoughts.

Damian pushed Tim’s hand away, but stayed quiet. Tim turned back around. “Don’t lose your head,” Bruce said as he parked the batmobile in an alley nearby. “Go through the skylight. Robin and I will enter through the air vents. Take out Two Face’s men quietly and quickly. Leave Two Face himself for me.” 

Tim nodded, jumping out of the car and grappling to the roof of the bank. He rolled to his feet to land right by the skylight. He saw Two Face’s men patrolling the bank with only one group of hostages in the main lobby of the bank. His mask zoomed in on the crowd to find your face, but you were nowhere to be seen. 

In a smooth movement, he slipped inside and grappled silently onto the rafters. One by one, he took out Two Face’s men without detection. Once they were all down, Tim heard Batman swoop in on Two Face. He grunted, only then did he allow himself to trace your phone again as he hid behind a file cabinet. You were a floor below him. Tim frowned. That was where the vaults were. 

“Did you find them?” Damian said, appearing beside him. Tim flinched. 

“I think they’re in the vaults.” Tim growled, getting to his feet. Batman had Two Face down, handcuffing him. Tim marched over to him and kicking Two Face in the side. “Did you lock people in the vaults?!” His voice dark and menacing. If Tim wasn’t so worried about you, he would have be proud of sounding so much like Batman.

“Red Robin.” Batman grabbed Tim’s shoulder. “Calm down. The bank manager is over there. Ask him to open the vaults.” He pulled Two Face away from Tim. Two Face groaned, switching between Harvey and Two Face as they argued with each other. 

It took far too long to get the vaults open. Tim almost lost his mind, calculating how much air you would have left. Eventually as the managers fought over the passwords, Tim just hacked the vaults and ran inside. He instantly went lightheaded, the air was almost gone from inside. Fresh air swarmed in. Tim found you unconscious behind a stack of freshly printed money.

“(Y/N).” Tim collapsed beside you, taking you into his arms. You stirred as fresh air filled the vault. 

“Wha...” You opened your eyes before gasping in panic and grabbing your throat. “I can’t breathe. Get me out of here!” Your entire body shook in his arms.

“You’re okay. Breathe with me,” Tim soothed, surprised by your reaction. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Please. The walls are closing in. Help me.” It hit Tim like a ton of bricks what your issue was.

He hummed, picking you up into his arms. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you out of here. You’re fine.” You buried your face into his neck. Damian met both of you outside the vault. He eyed you. 

“So you told them?” Damian huffed, leading the way back up the stairs to the car. Tim cursed him when you pulled away from his neck in surprise. 

He saw you search his face. The realization dawned in your eyes before your lips slammed into his. Tim grunted, shocked before relaxing into the kiss.

“TT, disgusting.” Damian shook his head and marched off ahead. 

***

You kissed on sidewalks You fight and you talk

“You son of a bitch.” Your hand cracked against Tim’s cheek. He took the hit, stunned. “How dare you just come on in here and make a mess of everything?!” 

“(Y/N), that’s not what I meant.” Tim held his cheek, looking at you bewildered. “I was trying to be nice since you said you were working so much.” You looked around your apartment. Things were in boxes, your furniture all over the place. You were moving in with Tim, but work kept you from packing. 

“How do you think packing my apartment will help me?” Your eyes narrowed dangerously. 

Tim swallowed hard. He looked around your apartment and put himself in your shoes. Yes, if he came home from work to find you packing his things to move, he would also be pissed. “Okay, I screwed up. I get that. I’m sorry.” He held up his hands. 

You sighed. The anger drained out of you. “I’m sorry I freaked, but I just didn’t want to deal with this when I got home.” You sat down on your couch that was pushed up against a wall. “I know we wanted me to move into your place by next week, but work is so crazy.” 

Tim sat down beside you. You moved to lay down with your head in his lap. “Tell me about it,” Tim whispered softly, stroking your cheek. 

The two of you talked for a long time. You went over work stuff while Tim told you about one of his cases. 

When Tim finally went home, you walked him down to the street. You both kissed sweetly on the sidewalk. Someone shouted get a room, but you both ignored them.

***

One night he wakes, strange look on his face Pauses, then says, you're my best friend And you knew what it was, he is in love

Tim jerked awake to find you missing from the bed beside him. His heart skipped a beat. “(Y/N)?”

“Yeah?” you whispered, coming into the bedroom with a cup of water. You crawled back into bed beside him, pressing the water into his hand. “Drink.” Your hand pressed against Tim’s forehead. Tim felt clammy, weak. His hand shook as he took a sip of water. “Your fever is down.” 

Tim blinked, setting the glass on his bedside table. “You’re my best friend.” 

You smiled. “And you’re mine.” You kissed the corner of his mouth and pushed him to lay back down. Your body cuddled into Tim’s side. He relaxed, your presence like a soothing balm. This was what love was.

***

So it goes You two are dancing in a snow globe, go round and round And he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown

Tim spun you around before bringing you back into his arms. You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “This is the happiest day of my life,” Tim whispered into your ear. 

“I know. It’s mine too.” He dipped you as the song ended. People around the two of you clapped. Tim righted you. You kissed him sweetly. 

“Okay, I think I should dance with the bride/groom,” Dick said, tapping you on the shoulder. You and Tim shared a look before laughing. 

“Go ahead.” Tim got pulled away by Wonder Woman. 

You turned to Dick as you began to dance. “I never thought me asking you to dance would get you married to Tim.” Dick spun you around and brought you back to him. 

“What? Thought I’d get married to you instead?” You bit your lip, watching Tim blush at something Diana whispered to him. 

“No, you’re too classy for me.” Dick kissed your cheek. “You make Tim better. Thank you for that.” 

“He makes me better too.” You met Tim’s eye over Dick’s shoulder. Tim’s eyes were wide, his nerves getting the best of him. “You better go save him. I think he’s about to have a nervous breakdown dancing with Wonder Woman.” 

Dick glanced over and laughed. “He’s fine, but I’ll step in. Bruce, you’ll take over, huh?” Before you could react, Dick spun you into Bruce’s arms. 

“Hi.” You laughed.

“Hello yourself.” Bruce danced with you for at least two songs. Eventually, Tim got back to you and refused to let anyone else dance with you for the rest of the night. It was the photo from the last dance of the night where you and Tim were almost asleep on your feet that Tim framed and put on his desk at work.

***

You understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars And why I've spent my whole life try to put it into words

Tim relaxed on the couch, eyeing the kids that were a mix of himself and you as they settled on the floor in front of the TV. You came in with two bowls of popcorn, giving one to the kids and the other to Tim. Tim smiled, kissing your cheek when you sat down beside him. 

“Did we decide on a movie?” you whispered. Your oldest turned on the movie. The other kids munched on the popcorn, watching with big eyes.

“Yeah, I had to talk them out of the horror movie Jason left here.” Tim took some popcorn. “I know he left here on purpose.” 

“Of course he did.” You kissed Tim’s cheek. “Just be glad they didn’t watch it behind our backs.” Your youngest got pushed away from the popcorn, and ran to you for support. “Hi baby.” You pulled them into your lap and they happily munched from Tim’s bowl. 

The movie ended about two hours later. Tim looked at his family to find everyone asleep. You had your head rested on his shoulder with your youngest sprawled out between your and Tim’s laps. The older kids were passed out on the floor. Tim sighed, content. He understood how lucky he was.

Tim kissed the side of your head, and he could hear it in the silence. 

[dottiechan]

Tempest (Pt. 4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |  Part 5  

Read on AO3

Pairing: Ava Du Mortain x f!Detective

Wordcount: 2177

Warnings: mentions of death, smoking

Summary: Ava’s handler has information that will turn her lengthy mission upside down - along with her heart.

Lady Ashbury’s parlour, London, 1898

“You’re ridiculously torpid this afternoon, Ava.”

The hostess’ words ring clear in her ear and she almost flinches - not like the others can hear them. Nate has taken it upon himself to entertain Lady Ashbury’s guests when Ava turned even more sullen and laconic than she usually would in a setting such as this. Afternoon tea wasn’t exactly her scene after all. Nor was being parted from the private detective in such a hurried, unplanned manner as the invitation that simply could not be refused was thrust upon her this morning by a note from Lady Ashbury. Letters such as that hold no importance to her at all normally. She doesn’t socialise. She doesn’t attend parties, or put on a show for the sake of being thought of as ‘pleasant,’ whatever that is supposed to mean these days.

But it would have been impossible to ignore her handler’s request.

“You said it was urgent, Lady Ashbury.” Ava folds her arms almost petulantly as she gazes out the window, refusing to look at the older vampire clad in a divine tea gown of showy green silk and soft cotton frills.

“Had I known this lengthy assignment would make you so surly, I would have invited you to my gatherings more often.” The sentence passes from the socialite’s parted red lips, and the corners of her mouth twitch upward in a way Ava can’t help but feel secretly mocked. “Oh, don’t frown like that! Or else we will all die of your ennui. I have great news, great news indeed! But I see no reason why we shouldn’t have an equally pleasant afternoon to ourselves before we talk business.”

“Half of your guests are not even of the Agency,” murmurs Ava, her disapproving glance sweeping over the almost gaudily overdecorated room. Eventually, her eyes settle on Nate serving tea cakes to some of the ladies, all refined charm and long fingers and even longer smiles, and a pang of guilt runs through her when she realises that her old friend is actually enjoying himself, thriving and basking in the plenitude of attention he is showered with. She’s been so absorbed in her love for the detective that she nearly haven’t had enough time for him as of late.

“All previously settled engagements, of course. I’m sure you understand how rude it would have been of me to entreat them not to come,” Ashbury lies fluidly, yet her brown eyes glint with a mocking light that betrays her immediately and on purpose. She delights in the tensing of the muscles in Ava’s jaw.

“Of course.”

“Now don’t be so uncouth, or else I will be the talk of every party and club for the coming weeks about the questionable company I keep,” Catherine Ashbury shakes her head stubbornly, dark locks bouncing defiantly as she links their arms and tugs Ava away from the window. They walk down the long parlour slowly, close enough to the guests that they feel like they’re part of the occasion, and yet far away for their conversation to remain private.

“You’re already the talk of London, Lady Ashbury,” Ava retaliates, almost suavely wrapping her jest in a cloak of concern. “Thirty years you have been here, and thirty years you haven’t aged a day.”

“Some of us are just lucky in that regard, aren’t we?” the hostess grins at Ava. “Unlike these poor ladies here... Or even your private detective. They’re young now, but they’ll whither away soon like roses in the winter. Such a waste. Just like this whole operation has been, if you pardon my frankness. I understand her protection was part of the deal the Agency made with the Police Commissioner, but such a waste of resources this endeavour has been! Our top agents, wasted on the protection of one human. I’ve always appreciated your practical thinking, so I know you must feel the same way as I do. And to be stuck in it for two whole years...! Well, I’m sure you will be relieved to learn the rumours I’ve been hearing lately.”

Ava awakens from her listless silence when Catherine Ashbury ceases to prate about the question of mortality and baits her into enquiring more about the mysterious little sentence she dropped at the end of her speech. She schools her features into an emotionless mask even as her heart begins to fill with uncertainty and fear, painfully aware of Ashbury’s almost predatory gaze fixed on her at all times. “Do they have to do anything with our mission?”

“Would you be intrigued if I said yes?” Catherine asks, red lips curving into a satisfied smile when she notices her quickening pulse. “Alright then. Mind you, these are only rumours, and you didn’t hear them from me... But it is said that the Agency wants to form permanent working units - much like your partnership with Nathaniel, only in teams of four and with greater autonomy than what is usually granted to field agents. I hear the top squad has already been assembled - and utilised. Here, in London. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“What could possibly be their objective here?” Ava frowns as they walk slowly, Ashbury leading the way to the small balcony facing a lush park of green fenced in by equally posh buildings as the one they’re in right now. “I haven’t been alerted of any major supernatural activity here, save for the rouge dark elf, of course.”

“Ah, there you go, spoiling the surprise,” Catherine sighs, finally giving up her maddening secrecy as she takes a deep breath, the crisp air chilling her lungs in the most effervescent way. Or is it the anticipation radiating off of her agent in waves as great as ocean tides? It is an exhilarating game, reading others, playing with words and watching the body betray the mind as it answers all questions so truthfully. She is only the temporary handler of the two agents, and has been that for two years straight now, but a sudden recognition manifests in her heart - as difficult and disagreeable and perfectly unpleasant Ava can be sometimes (the very opposite of her companion) she will miss her. She thinks her a remarkable entity, a true novelty among the cheap copies upon copies of women who thoughtlessly sacrifice their truest parts on the altar of hypocrisy and vanity, until no vestige remains of their original self. To know Ava is to face a lot of uncomfortable but all the more truthful feelings - one can decide to despise Ava for it, but the wise learn to look within.

Though Lady Ashbury may not look it, she is old. Older than Ava, and certainly older than youthful, handsome Nathaniel. And she feels old too, the debauchery of her long centuries and the dishonest little games that made up her life ageing her soul prematurely. But when Ava speaks...! When Ava speaks, her throat becomes the well, and her words truth, and she shames mankind in the most delicious way. Like that splendid painting by Jean-Léon Gérôme, La Vérité sortant du puits armée de son martinet pour châtier l’humanité. Truth Coming Out of Her Well to Shame Mankind. A painting she wishes she could procure for herself.

And Ava. A woman Catherine wishes she met when she was still herself.

But it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. The demise of the rogue dark elf is only part of the rumours circulating in the Agency about Ava’s involvement during her latest assignment. Or about Ava herself, and her career, for that matter.

“Speak plainly, Catherine,” Ava almost pleads, her diplomatic facade slipping up to reveal a shade of fear in the green of her eyes. Ashbury wishes nothing but to descend upon Ava’s connection to the private detective like a vulture until she realises the rumours have more truth to them than even those who maliciously spread it could imagine. She hasn’t a shred of doubt about Du Mortain’s feelings for the human woman now, her initial doubt obliterated by every sign in Ava’s body language as they stand so close to each other on the small balcony overlooking the beautiful Cornwall Gardens. Ava is a clever woman, capable on jobs, willing to take on risks no one else would dare. And more importantly, she is aware of her strengths too - and thus her self-aware nature marks her as superior to all the other humble little agents. She must know what Catherine is about to tell her - with the task forces forming, and the first such group striking in a place none other than London, she must know that it is only a matter of time before the rogue is dealt with. Before she’d be given an assignment and a position befitting someone of her talents.

And here she stands, this brilliant woman in all her glory, terrified of a promotion that would have put a smile on her stern face two years ago.

“As I said, you didn’t hear this from me,” Lady Ashbury resigns, a little sullen at being robbed of her smug pleasure all of a sudden. “But I know for a fact that your current assignment is drawing to a swift conclusion as we speak. And rumour has it, you are destined for greater things once it is over.”

“Greater things,” Ava echoes, her whole being feeling hollow. Around the detective, she forgot about the world, to be honest. And it seems like she is about to pay the price for her two years of blissful ignorance. She always knew the mission would end, and yet in a strange way she didn’t really believe it. It’s like how people know they are mortal, and yet feel so much entitlement to life that when death comes for them, they have the audacity to appear shocked.

Ava has no illusions. This is a goodbye, not an opportunity. Nate may think that bringing in the private detective is a reasonable step, but Ava will do everything in her power to prevent her from learning who she is, what they are, what the last two years have been about. They were never right for each other. She was never right. And if she leaves now, maybe she can draw that conclusion too.

“My dear, everything you’ve done up to this point is in the past now. And it is best to leave a dead thing in the ground.” Catherine’s plummy honeyed words have an admonitory yet sad edge to them. It is a warning about the detective, and what clinging to her could mean to her career, with an undertone of genuine empathy uncharacteristic to Lady Ashbury. She inspects the woman to her right, a dark speck against the grey sky, and feels honest to god sympathy - and emotion she hasn’t felt in decades. Maybe it is good she will no longer be her handler, Ashbury thinks as she lights a cigarette. She felt too many real things ever since Ava came into her perfectly splendid and dull life, tearing apart the walls of hedonism and debauchery she’s built around herself. But that is a goodbye that can wait.

“Congratulations, Commanding Agent Du Mortain.”

Catherine watches Ava from the balcony still as she purposefully cuts across the Cornwall Gardens, stomping the prized lawn of the old Mr Thomas Broadwood Junior in the process as that sweet Nathaniel treads on her heels ever so loyally. They must be headed for Cromwell Road which will no doubt have available hansoms for them to hail. Not that they need them, but if they are going to Whitechapel, which she is certain of, they need to travel the old fashioned way for appearance’s sake.

The tea gown is too flimsy for her to stay outside for much longer, so she heads inside, cheer and conversation and the wonderfully lukewarm sensation that only pointless small talk can elicit wrapping her in a blanket of comfort instantly. And Lady Ashbury is finally home.

On the other side of London, a woman is losing the only home she’s ever had in centuries. How many lives can she save if she goes along with the Agency’s plans for her? Surely the detective isn’t worth all that. (She is. Her rationale may deny it, but she knows she is worth all that and more to her. And she ignores it anyway.)

Ava will go on loving her in every following decade, in every language she knows, with every breath she takes. She marries duty, and allows death to make a martyr of her lover left behind. Turn her into her very own memento mori.

And in the end, the agent isn’t completely mistaken - something will indeed claim the private detective’s very soul. But it will not be as serene as eternal sleep, as Ava keeps believing. No, it is not death that claims the detective after all.

Even though sometimes even she wishes it were that simple. That peaceful. That freeing.

But there is no rest for the wicked.

[liebegott]

Ya know a lil post war Lieb where you’re married but he’s flirting with you would really water my crops... bonus if he says the word titties hehe ~ twin

Bell Peppers & Balconies. | Joseph Liebgott

(click here to read on wattpad)

REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN!

pairing: liebgott x fem!reader

wc: 1.7k

tw: none except he mentions titties so idk oops!

a/n: ahh i’m so sorry, for some reason, when i wrote this, my eyes completely focused on the titties line instead of the married line! so i accidentally wrote them not married. i’m so sorry 🥺 huge thanks to @vintagelavenderskies who reminded me that stargazing existed!

this is probably my favourite oneshot i’ve ever written, so i hope you enjoy it! thank you all for reading. 💓

tagging: @floydtab @alienoresimagines @order-of-river-phoenix @julianneday1701 @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @wexhappyxfew @rarmiitage @mavysnavy @punkgeekchic @vintagelavenderskies @georgeluzwarmhugs @ray--person @wecomrades @jussipogideonlaufeyson @happyveday @snafus-peckuh @little-babydolly @kathikon

feel free to message me if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

***

Water splashed against your foot, the contents of your watering can spilling onto the balcony under yours. You quietly cursed, stepping aside and rushing to turn off the faucet. It was like any other day, summer just around the corner, and as usual, you tended to your small garden, a couple of planter boxes fastened to the railing of your balcony. 

It was 1945. The war had just ended, and though everything was normal for a while now, the difference soldiers coming home made was striking. You had moved to San Francisco right after most of the men shipped out, so their return made a difference to everyone but you.

With summer rolling in, you worried about your bell peppers that had started sprouting. It was rarely bright and sunny where you lived, but your small apartment faced south, allowing your tiny, makeshift backyard to receive as much sunlight as possible for your vegetables.

You lived in a corner apartment, and the apartment beside yours was empty, so your floor was quiet, noise coming only from the bustle of the streets below. Today was no different. 

Or so you thought.

“You water them any more and they’ll drown,” a voice said to you, and for a moment, you thought you had hallucinated. On the balcony beside yours stood a skinny man, still in his military uniform, leaning on the railing. “I’m serious, that’s way too much water.”

Tilting your watering can, you placed it on a wooden stool, surveying the damage. It was one of your bad habits- getting so lost in thought, staring off into the distance. It was a surprise any of your vegetables had grown at all. 

“Oops,” you said sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck, “They’ll be fine.. I hope.” The man chuckled, the sound of his laugh so clear despite the honking of the traffic on the streets under you. 

He leaned down on the railing on his elbows, taking out a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it in such swift movements. You never liked smoking, hated the smell of cigarettes, but briefly, as you watched him exhale, you loved it. The man saw you eye him from his peripherals and turned to you, throwing you a wink.

“I hope so too,” he mumbled, flicking spent ashes to the ground below, “Can’t have spaghetti without tomatoes can we? Those are tomatoes aren’t they?” 

You shook your head gently. “No, bell peppers. My tomatoes didn’t grow,” a frown appeared on your face and the man clucked his tongue. He moved in his place, resting on his back on the warm metal to face you. “Did you just get back?” You cursed yourself in your head for such a stupid question, as he was in fact, still in his hat.

The man nodded absentmindedly, taking another drag from his cigarette and exhaling before speaking. “Yep, just moved in as well,” he smiled kindly, the smile-lines around his mouth deepening, “Glad my ‘ma chose this apartment.”

Turning back towards the horizon, you sighed happily. “It has the best view,” you replied, “You’re really lucky.”

“I sure am,” the man grinned, but his eyes remained trained on her, “I’ve got a pretty neighbour with bell peppers as well.” You couldn’t fight the blush appearing on your cheeks. 

“Would you like to come over for dinner?” you suddenly blurted out, surprising the both of you, you a little more. He seemed pleased, flicking away his cigarette and watching it drop to the ground. 

Rubbing his hands together, he walked closer to his balcony ledge, a smirk on his face. “That’s a surprise,” he said, your cheeks heating up once more, “I was just about to ask you the same thing. Except, I don’t have any furniture.”

“Ask me then,” you said, unsure where this boldness was coming from. He was a complete stranger, and you had only been speaking for a few minutes. 

The man chuckled again, and you wish he wouldn’t stop this time, the sound sweet in your ears. “What’s your name?” he asked, a twinkle in his eye.

“Y/N.”

He smiled, and you curled a strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, Y/N,” he began, leaning in as close as the gap between your balconies would allow, “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

———

Fidgeting, you gently brought your knuckles to the door and knocked. You heard shuffling inside before he swung the door wide open, a large grin on his face. “You really came,” Joe breathed a sigh of relief, puzzling you.

“Of course I did,” you said matter-of-factly, “I’m literally four steps away.” He ushered you into his bare apartment and looked around, slightly embarrassed. Joe looked different out of his uniform, without a cigarette, and without any furniture.

He looked like a young man, not the confident one he had introduced himself as on his balcony. You weren’t sure which version of him you liked more.

“I made food,” you smiled at him, lifting a warm bowl of pasta, “No tomatoes. It's bell pepper and cream though, if that’s okay with you.” 

He whistled. “You made something too? I swear I was joking about the spaghetti,” Joe laughed, a smile growing on your face as well, “But thank you. I really appreciate it.”

Leading you through the sparse living areas, which only had his suitcase and a mattress on the floor, Joe’s face reddened. “Haven’t gotten the chance to buy furniture,” he gave you a lopsided grin, “But I promise, the next time you come over, I’ll at least have a couch you can sit on.”

Everything he said came out so easily, and yet every word made you blush. Stepping onto the small balcony, your heart skipped yet another beat. 

Joe had placed down blankets and pillows on the metal floor. You looked up at him, your eyes wide. “This is amazing, Joe,” you breathed. And it truly was, despite how simple the whole thing was. 

He settled himself down on a pillow, patting the one beside him for you to sit as well. You placed the bowl down between you, taking out plates and forks. From where you were seated, you could see the whole San Francisco skyline, the sky pink as the sun slowly hid for the evening.

“Well,” he began, a wide grin on his face, “I had a beautiful girl comin’ over. I figured I’d have to impress her even without furniture.”

There he went again, with each word, crawling his way into your heart. “Good job, Sergeant Liebgott,” you winked at him, “You can consider me impressed.”

“Oh boy,” he piped, facing heavenward, “Being called Sergeant has never sounded so good.” You no longer fought back a smile, your heart feeling warm as you scooped up some pasta for him.

The two of you sat there, and once the food was finished, your stomachs both full, you and Joe peeked through the railings to see who could spot the number of cabs that passed by first. Joe eventually got tired of losing, despite you knowing his eyes were far more observant than yours-- you realised later on he was letting you win.

Leaning back down against the glass sliding door, a pillow between the two of you, you both watched the night sky, illuminated by the bright lights of Mainstreet. Joe was easy to talk to, your conversations ranging from his family to before the war. You were apprehensive, skirting around the edges of his actual time in Europe, but learned a thing or two about the men he served with.

“It's always bright here, is it?” he mumbled after a moment of comfortable silence between the two of you. You looked at him to see him gazing towards the darkened sky, his face blank. You nodded, not saying anything. “It was never really ever completely dark in Belgium either.”

You knew of the ‘Battered Bastards of Bastogne,’ almost everyone did. But you never realised the man beside you, so young and so alive, had been one of them. “What was it like?” you asked him, your voice quiet and unsure. 

He turned to look at you and gave you a reassuring smile-- ask me, his eyes seemed to say. “Sometimes it’d be so dark, you wouldn’t be able to see your hands in front of you,” Joe said, extending his arms in front of him to glance at his hands, “And then a light will pierce through the sky. You’d see it through the trees, and hear a high-pitched whistle.” 

You tried to imagine everything he was saying, looking up at the sky and pretending you were surrounded by a canopy of trees. Joe put a hand on your shoulder and shook his head. “Then when it’d come down, you’ll force yourself to think of a reason to stay alive,” he finished, his eyes trained on you, yet looking somewhere else, somewhere far. Belgium.

Cupping his cheek gently, you whispered, “What reasons did you give yourself?”

“My family,” he sighed, shutting his eyes, leaning into your touch, “But also the idea of driving my cab around again. Meeting a girl with soft titties and a smile to die for. All the little Liebgotts we’d make.” Joe said the last sentence with a cheeky smile, no malice, and you pat his cheek gently, pulling away. You eventually learned Joe had the capability to make everything sad happy again. 

Both falling once more in a comfortable silence, the night drew nearer, and you realised you had to go. Standing at the door, your own just a few steps away, a strange feeling of sadness surrounded you. “Thank you for tonight,” you forced a smile.

Joe tapped your nose once. “Don’t frown,” he grinned, and you couldn’t help but grin as well, “We can have dinner again, this time. I’ll cook.”

“I sure hope it isn’t one of the stews you guys had in the forest you were telling me about.”

Joe feigned offence, a hand on his chest. “You’re missing out, I swear,” he scrunched his eyebrows together, “The bones give a real nice crunch.” You let out a laugh, your voice echoing through the quiet hall. You waved him goodnight, taking a few steps to your own apartment, and turning the key. 

“And Y/N,” he called, and you turned to see him, his eyes soft as he leaned on the doorway, “Finally met the girl.” 

You were wrong, sneaking a glance down at your chest. Today was definitely different.

[tina-nightray]

Pandora Hearts SS Gift~!

i-prefer-the-term-antihero My Secret Santa Gift of Pandora Hearts for you my Dear,

Hope you Enjoy it and wish you Happy Holiday, Sweetie.

From: Me~ (Tina Nightray)

To: This Lovely~

twitter: @nightrayuwu 

tumblr: @sassybitch-classyqueen​ 

Archiveofourown: heismysoulmate

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

Pair: Ozbert~

Type: Fluffy and caring.

Summery: 

Gilbert thought of his cheerful young Master while holding his White Rose.

Oz thought of his old servant / friend while walking into the garden holding a single Blue Rose.

And then, their fate started with warmth going through their hearts.

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

Saturday morning, a peaceful calm weekend morning, the sky was clear and the cold breezy morning signified the upcoming winter with its gentle blows.

A fine young man was resting in his chair on his balcony looking up at the sky while smoking quietly. On his free hand was a white rose with few water drips over it ‘I wonder, what should I make for today’s meeting?’ His thoughts were calm as he blew the smoke out and sighed knowing there was no escape from the sweet tooth Break but he also had to make something warm like a pie, a classic cherry pie would be a good choice then.

‘I hope things stay calm as it is and the weather stay clear for tonight’ with another sigh he stood up and walked back inside his room to change into some proper clothes and head to the kitchen ‘good thing they won’t be here for breakfast so I can have my time making that pie with no bunny to disturb my cooking’ he smiled at the picture of Alice trying to taste every ingredient while Oz try to stop her with loud laughs “I better have my breakfast quick then get started on the pie” he said with amusement in his voice as he sped up his steps to the kitchen.

After 30 minutes, he was done with his breakfast and started to make the crust part of the pie when someone unexpected dropped by to say hello coming out of the cupboard and startling the man as always “Hello there, Gil kun~” that was enough to send shock to the other man who was about to lose his pie base “Break! can’t you come from the door like a normal person?!” After that flustered yell he sighed and calmed again not like that was new anyway “Good morning, I thought you'd be with Sharon until the meeting time” he asked quite curiously as he focused back on his pie.

“Well she sent me here to get her some fresh bread knowing that it should've been baked a few minutes ago, but what are you doing here this early, Gil kun~?” The playful man was quite interested as he watched the black haired one place the crust in the oven “I’m making a cherry pie for today’s meeting, it should be ready to offer by noon” he answered while his hands reached out to start the second part of the pie.

“That looks promising, I will be so happy to eat it, Gil kun~” the excited Break danced then took what he came for and left humming a sweet cheerful song on his way back.

“That was.. unexpected,” Gilbert mumbled as he continued. After an hour and half he was done then left the pie to cool down on the counter as he went to check on his reports and the meeting preparation himself. 

He went to the garden and got help from two maidens for flower selection and rearranged it in a beautiful vase in the main room. While he was fixing the flowers angles for a more stunning display his mind went to a memory of his past with Oz as they were hiding from little Ada in hide and seek game.

“Gil, don’t make any sound she will find us easily if she heard you” Oz told him with big smile of his “Y-yes, young master” he nodded and covered his mouth, while waiting there together, Oz was sure to stare his young servant up and down then try to hold a small giggle noticing how fragile he looked and how cute he was while trying to do what he was told as to not make any sound with his eyes fixed on the outside of the closet they hid in.

Gilbert on the other hand, just noticed the soft and smiley eyes of his master that kept looking at him “Ma-master, is there something on my face?” he whispered his question and Oz blinked twice before realizing what he was really doing and blushed slightly and tried to hide his small crush by saying “I just realized that white looks good on you” looking away from him.

the younger boy seemed to take in the words as he slightly blushed and smiled looking at his shirt “You think so, young master?” he asked again looking up at him with sweet smile that always make Oz’s heart beat faster which cause the older boy to nods his head and smile happily at him “Maybe I should get you a suit that matches mine for the upcoming party” he suggested and made the younger boy blush but happy as well and got a nod from him before they got caught by the young girl “Found you two!” she cheered and giggled hugging them both as they whined in defeat.

Gilbert’s cheeks were slightly bright as he remembered that time and giggled quietly, he left to the front door as the time went fast. He then heard the loud sound of horses and cart being stopped by the gate to the mansion and the servants gathered to greet the guests at the HQ.

Gilbert stood outside by the cart and opened the door to have the duo walk out then turn to hug him for more flustering greetings “Good morning, Gil~!” the blondie boy said “Good morning!” Alice said knowing he would make something for their meeting she was so excited “Good morning, how was your trip?” he asked as he patted their shoulders gently “It was nice and quiet” Oz said as he walked to the gate with the two following him inside.

They arrived at the lounge room and rested there until the others got here too so they could start the meeting “Alice do you want to go to the garden for a bit?” Oz asked her and she nodded. They walked out with Gilbert left to get the last of preparation done. 

After a while they heard Break calling for them to come inside as everyone has arrived and ready to start the meeting in the main room. A few hours had passed before the meeting was over and everyone went off to their ways.

Oz, Alice, Break, Sharon, Mr. Oscar and Gilbert were together in one lounge as they enjoyed their small meeting with Gil’s pie and gray tea to warm their hearts. “It’s good~, Gil kun~!” the doll said loud and clearly cheerful as well “I never knew it could eat” Alice said looking at the doll “Nope, it was only me who ate, Alice chan~” with his usual playful tone Break answered as Oz hummed like the rest in satisfaction from the sweet treat the black haired man made.

“Thank you, Gil” they all repeated and he only answered with a nod “You are very welcome” his voice was calmer than usual as the day passed by for lunch and then some nap time for the afternoon, yet Oz was not with Alice.

Gilbert was walking through the corridor when he spotted Oz walking alone through the garden and went after him. 

The young boy sat on a bench there surrounded by flowers and roses, he sighed only to be startled by none other than Gilbert, his old personal servant, dear friend and secret crush “Oh hey Gil, what are you doing here?” the shorter boy asked as he looked at Gil then to the blue rose in his hands upon his lap “Nothing, I just saw you walking here alone and I wanted to ask you if everything is okay?” Gil said calmly, walking to stand three steps away from his master’s seat.

Oz looked up at his crush and smiled but Gilbert felt as if that smile was a bit odd not quite the cheerful one as usual “It’s nothing, Gil. you still worry too much over everything, huh. looks like you’ve never changed from back then. soft and gentle oh but of course you’re more stronger not like the fragile boy you were back then, but still scared of cats” he chuckled at the last one which caused the older male to blush and try to defend himself “They still want to scratch my face off!” he seemed flustered with blush all over his soft cheeks.

Oz smiled at the sight and hummed “You know Gil you’re still as beautiful as you were back then” the words came out naturally that when Oz saw his crush’s face turn red, he blushed slightly himself and looked at his hands “Sorry, that was weird” he tried to dismiss the matter but then “Wait.. um.. you.. Oz.. I..” he stood in his place stunned and unable to finish his words like when he was young and his master looked up at him blinking a few times before a wide smile spread on his lips “What is it, Gilbert? you still hesitate when you want to tell me something about your feelings or thoughts” he tried to tease him only to be met with a shy Gil, the exact same face but in an older version.

“I.. I don’t think you are weird” he mumbled looking down on his feet, the cold breeze blowing a bit stronger this time taking the white rose the taller man was keeping in his jacket to the younger boy’s lap next to the Blue one in his hands “Oh? is that so? and why Gilbert?” Oz decided to hear his thoughts on this matter as he held the other rose in his hand now “Because I..” his words died this time and he couldn't find his voice anymore. 

Oz stood up and walked to stop in front of Gilbert and into his personal space then looked up at him to see how red like tomato the man was now and ready to run off, he held his coat to prevent him from escaping and lightly tug on it to get him to lean in toward his face “Gil, do you like me?” it was a direct shot to the man’s heart causing him to face away from him and sulk in frustration unable to answer him.

Oz showed a smile of sadness and sighed “looks like it’s just me then, huh” he mumbled and let the fabric go only to have a strong and bigger hand to hold his retreating one and rested it on his chest forcing the blood to rise to the younger one’s cheeks in rush to feel those strong heart beats drumming so loud and clear through that always seemingly calm chest.

“I think it’s cold, do you wish to share our bodies’ warmth?” Gil’s words were soft and low barely above whispers “Oh Gil~, that would be so dramatic but of course I would love to” Oz’s words were low too as he moved his arms to wrap around Gilbert’s neck while the other kneeled down closer to wrap his arms around his thin waist too and pulled him into his chest whispering the words softly to his neck “I love you, Oz” the young boy smiled and whispered the same way to his lover’s neck “I love you too, Gil” closed eyes as they shared quiet and peaceful moment before they pulled a part to share a soft and sweet kiss to warm their hearts while sealing their already intertwined fates.

The sun was setting and the night was coming so they decided to get back inside to relax and enjoy their newly found love, with those feelings being finally revealed and spoken of, their lives would be so much happier now despite the hardships, they had each other's backs forever and ever. 

“Will you stand by my side until i’m gone?”.

“Rest assured that I shall never leave you side, no matter what, My Master”.

“I would love to sleep forever in your arms, My Dear Love”.

Fin.

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

Tags :

@phmonth2020​​

@i-prefer-the-term-antihero​​

@maddyisenough

@sassybitch-classyqueen​

[stefciastark]

Vines

Rating: T

Characters/Themes: Tony & Peter (Irondad), Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Nick Fury

Genre: H/C

Words: ~1600 and counting

A/N: Originally made for Day 11 of Webpril (a little late, whoops), I have also published this into a separate fic. If you'd like to stay up to date with how this pans out for chapter 2-3, you'll find that on my AO3 or FFN on the 'Standalone Fic' links below :) x

~Read it on AO3 | Webpril | Standalone Fic

~Read it on FFN | Webpril | Standalone Fic

Peter had never thought he’d be afraid of plants. Alright, maybe poison ivy and rhubarb, but not vines of all things. He also never thought he’d see the day when plants came to life...well okay, plants were already alive, but sentient was a whole other can of worms that Peter wished was never opened.

“Remind me to add a herbicide feature to the suits next time,” Tony chimed in over the comms. Peter couldn’t see his whereabouts, a cloud of smoke barring his view. It seemed like no matter how many explosives or sheer blunt force they sunk into these things, they were getting nowhere.

“New York is struggling with the trees as is, Tony, I don’t think we need you nuking the last patch of grass in Central Park,” Clint fired back.

“Look, can we talk about saving the forests later? I could use some more hands on deck here.” Steve was about a block and a half away from the rest of the team, having appointed himself to ‘perimeter’ duty but had soon been confronted with a writhing mass of vines that sprouted from the ground like heads sprouted from a Hydra.

Steve’s request was met by an enthusiastic “coming!” from Peter, who promptly proceeded to assume the role of a modern George of the Jungle, but instead the jungle was made of concrete, and the vines were...well the vines were vines.

Peter locked on to the small speck of blue weaving in between a forest of green, and proceeded to deploy the four mechanical arms that erupted from the back of the Iron Spider. Each arm seemed to operate on Karen’s schedule, but Peter couldn’t complain; the AI had faster reactions than Peter ever would, and if he thought about that too much it scared him.

As each metal appendage slashed and carved its way through the thick stems, thick sap oozed out like blood, but as soon as the incisions appeared, they were gone, replaced by cell membranes that were multiplying way too fast.

“Uh, guys? This isn’t working…”

“You’re telling me,” Clint grumbled, feeling more useless than ever. It didn’t matter if his arrows were covered in acid, produced flames, or were laced with electricity - the outcome was still the same. As soon as Clint came to that realisation, he had perched himself on the balcony of a nearby highrise, not wanting to risk being caught amongst the chaos. There was many a time he wished he weren’t as human. Moreso, he wished he weren’t as fragile.

“Hold on, I’ve got this.” Tony rounded the corner of the sidestreet nearest to Peter and moments later as the suit brushed past Steve, a long thin pike that exploded out from a Tylenol sized capsule dug into the ground right next to one of the vines besides Peter.

Within less than a second, Peter felt a shudder beneath the ground, followed by a geyser of dirt. The vine writhed for a moment before falling limp with a heavy thud. It suddenly looked so much smaller, no longer resembling a gigantic green tube man from outside the local car dealership.

“Well that wasn’t so bad.”

Peter groaned internally, not needing his Spidey Sense to tell him that those would be Tony’s famous last words.

The vine began convulsing, and Peter was reminded of the nurses from Silent Hill. For a moment he wished they were; then he wouldn’t have to deal with something at least half the size of his apartment building.

Rising once more to its full stature, half a dozen smaller vines broke out from the soil beneath it. Now it really resembled a Hydra.

Tony registered simultaneously the resurrection-including-birth and his position that put him at the epicentre of it all. Firing all repulsors at maximum capacity, he took off aiming vaguely for Hawkeye’s vantage point on the balcony.

That would’ve been the plan.

One of the smaller vines had snaked its way around the suit’s foot, up the ankle, and began to relentlessly squeeze. Sparks were beginning to fly out of Tony’s right foot repulsor before sputtering and going dark, and in that brief window where full-flight momentum had been compromised, the vine arched back.

Peter watched with mild panic as Tony whipped into the ground with the vine still stubbornly attached. He knew the suit could handle a lot, but what he never knew - and he was fairly sure Tony didn’t really know either - was if the suit was going to be able to come back to the workshop in one piece, preferably with Tony in one piece in it. And speaking of the workshop, after the dust cleared Peter’s heart sunk as he took in the scuffs and the scattered uneven plates that normally fit together like a puzzle. Of course, with all of their recent calls to action over the last few days and most of the other suits undergoing major upgrades and testing during an almost two month long quiet period - which turns out was a major oversight - the only suitable suit candidate was already semi out of commission.

Tony’s communications stuttered back online, jarred momentarily by the impact, and a low groan filtered over the comms.

“Tony, you alright?” Steve was almost 300-feet away, jumping back in after spending an frustratingly inordinate amount of time trying to pull an answer out of S.H.I.E.L.D who had sent a few airborne vehicles to try and scan and triangulate.

“Just. Peachy.” Each word was punctuated by a forceful attempt to remove the vine’s grip from the suit. Tony didn’t want to admit it out loud, but the strength at which it was constricting was starting to hurt. A lot. He really didn’t want to think about how much pressure the baby vine had to be exerting for him to feel it beneath the suit. He was suddenly a lot more alarmed about the larger vines.

S.H.I.E.L.D used that moment to broadcast, Nick Fury’s voice filtering over the present team’s radios. “I see we might have a bit of a weed problem. I would’ve thought gardening was a bit below the Avengers’ paygrade.”

“Just tell us how to get rid of these things, they’re giving me the creeps.” Clint broke his silence, his time surveying the convulsing vines of chaos in Central Park not bringing him any answers.

Fury was all business now. “This thing’s set up camp over by the boat house to your north. Scans picked up a large form that looks like a bulb about 32-feet below the surface. Find it, kill it, and we can all go home.”

“Roger that,” Steve replied, shifting his shield to sit more securely. “Tony, are you rea -”

“I’m gonna need a bit. As kinky as being tied up would be in any other situation…” Tony never quite finished his thought, turning off his radio as the vine constricted once more and he gritted his teeth against the crushing pressure. More of the baby vines had seemed to smell the nearby prey and had turned their attention to his figure lying supine on the ground.

Peter winced, hearing the (almost) disguised strain in Tony’s voice. The parent vine didn’t seem to care about his mentor anymore, and if it had eyes, Peter was sure they’d be twinkling in a lazy kind of sadistic pleasure. It had minions to do its dirty work now.

“Alright Queens, you and I have got this.” Steve looked at Peter and nodded. Clint had one arrow left and that method of attack had so far proven incredibly useless. Except…

Peter swung his way up to the balcony Clint was occupying near the East Green section of Central Park. “Hey, can I have your last boom arrow? Maybe it’ll work, but I’ve got a plan.”

Clint raised an eyebrow, loathe to give over his last projectile and cementing how inessential he had begun to feel. Pressing his lips together, he reached behind him and pulled out his last arrow. “Just press this bit in the middle of the arrowhead, okay? After that you’ve got about five seconds before you need to get the hell out.”

“Cool, got it. Arrowhead, five seconds, run. Thanks!” And as soon as Peter had appeared, he had started his commute back towards Steve.

Tony was lying incredibly still. He discovered that if he barely twitched a muscle - which these abominations could somehow tell beneath a layer of armour - the rate at which the squeezing increased slowed down.

“Today would be great.” Tony turned his head towards Steve, who had just shifted his attention to Peter who had arrived with an arrow in hand. Steve at once understood the plan.

“Hold tight, Tony.” Steve’s voice dripped with an authority that Tony found profoundly irritating but Peter found comforting.

“Not going anywhere, Cap.”

Steve took off at a sprint next to Peter, who was using the surrounding trees and lamp posts as targets for his webs. The closer they got to the epicentre of it all, the more concentrated the vines were. What started as sporadically placed vegetation now looked more like a dense jungle.

Peter landed softly on the grass as Steve slowed to a jog. Looking up, they were confronted with a writhing mass that looked more like a Kraken than it did a plant.

As they deliberated their next course of action, Peter’s blood ran cold as over the radio he heard Tony’s agonised scream.

[elaboratedbee]

Bigby x Reader

Pairing: Bigby Wolf x Reader (i changed this to be gender neutral!)

Summary: bigby deals with his rapidly growing feelings for the new Fable that moved into the apartment above his, a nymph. (alternatively, you give bigby flowers)

Rating: E (hella fluff)

Word Count: 4208 (idk how it got long it just did i’m so sorry)

Note: hey guys, this is my second imagine! :) I just love this wolfman rn and I literally cannot wait until s2! i’m a new blog so pls feel free to interact, or request something, bc corona has given me hella free time ;)

You Belong Among The Flowers

You

As you set down the last box in your new apartment, you let a sense of accomplishment wash over you. It hadn’t been easy to save enough money to afford an apartment in the Woodlands, but you worked hard managing your business, growing flowers and owning a florist as well as growing fruit and vegetables which you sold to the grocery stores in Fabletown. When Snow had informed you of the two new apartments that had become available, you couldn’t help but fall in love with the idea. The place you were living before was a little sketchy (read: it was a total shithole, and you were definitely close to getting stabbed on several occasions). 

This way, you would be closer to the allotments you had managed to buy right at the edge of Fabletown, closer to Snow who you had thoroughly enjoyed getting to know during the first couple of months of her deputy mayorship, and it was a hell of a lot safer. The Woodlands had the extra insurance of being the home of the big, bad wolf. Fabletown harboured some pretty stupid criminals, but there weren’t many people stupid enough to target the apartments across the hall from the Sheriff. 

The place needed some life in it, as soon as was possible, however. The stark and empty room made you uncomfortable, and as soon as you set your first fern down on one of the shelves, you immediately felt better. The best part about the place, which really convinced you to part with most of your savings, was the balcony. You couldn’t wait to have it bright with life, a practical jungle on your doorstep. A flower nymph with no flowers was not a happy being, so that was the first thing you got to work on, planting your seeds and setting out your pots. 

It was already falling dark by the time you were done, but you were more than content to spend the night on a mattress in the middle of the floor now that you were surrounded by, at least the beginnings of, a flower garden. 

Bigby

By the time Bigby reached his cramped, little apartment in the evening, it was usually long after darkness had fallen over Fabletown. As he turned the key in the stiff lock, a sigh escaped his lips. He’d been tracking a car thief all day and had not been successful. The detective hated going home with a case hanging over him; there was no way he would be able to get any real sleep while all of his thoughts and theories were racing through his head. 

Bigby opened the door, dim yellow light from the hallway seeping into the room. The lingering smell of smoke from his Huff and Puffs and the scent of whiskey hit his nose even harder once the door was opened, and even he grimaced slightly at the smell. He flicked on the light and took his phone off of the ringer, a habit that he’d developed long ago. It was nice to be enveloped in peace and quiet in the evening. It was the way he liked it, he told himself. Somewhere in the very back of his mind, he knew that he really made himself unavailable because that way he could pretend that being alone was a conscious decision that he made.

Making his way to the small window in his living space, he opened it in an attempt to allow some fresh (well, as fresh as it got for New York city) air into his apartment. Bigby froze as an unexpected scent was the first to hit him, and he inhaled deeply. It was a floral scent, different kinds of mingling together. Some overpowered the less aromatic ones, but Bigby’s sense of smell was heightened enough that he could pick out each individual smell and he traced it to somewhere above him. The pitch-black darkness outside made it a futile goal to find out where it was coming from, so he simply stood and basked in it, sure that it would be gone in the morning. He assumed that someone in a nearby apartment had received a bouquet of flowers and had left it on their windowsill. It was concerning that they had left their window open, he noted, even the Woodland building wasn’t particularly safe. 

A bittersweet pang of homesickness ran through his body like a shiver, pooling in his chest and making his heartache. Mostly, he avoided thinking about the Homelands, as it always resulted in the sad longing that he was feeling now. But with the scent in his nose so reminiscent of the beautiful woodlands and sprawling idyllic spaces that they had once called home, there was no way he could avoid it now. Once the initial sadness passed, he allowed himself to relax into the sense of security and joy that were stronger than any negative feelings when he thought back to their home and all of its splendour. Although the person, or monster, that Bigby had been back then was a source of regret, he could not deny that he’d do almost anything to trade the dirty, concrete cityscape outside of his window for hills and mountains, forests and rivers. 

For the first time that he could remember, he didn’t reach for a cigarette or a tumbler of whiskey when he sat down in his chair to rest at last. Instead, he inhaled deeply, and let the smell of flowers lull him to a restful sleep. 

When he awoke, he was pleased to find that the pleasant smell persisted, which made him considerably more optimistic about the day ahead. There was one lead that he thought to chase up, but he figured that he ought to fill in Snow on the recent happenings before making his way out. She was much busier now, since the Crooked Man. Things weren’t perfect, he didn’t think they would ever be, but they were certainly better. Snow was making changes, just like she had promised to herself and everyone that she would. When Fables came through the door of the business office, their wishes weren’t always granted, but they were always heard.

Bigby thought that was a step in the right direction. 

After showering and getting dressed, he stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the correct floor. The line for the business office was already fairly long, despite the early hour of the morning and he resolved not to take up too much of Snow’s time. Ignoring the eye rolls and general disgruntlement from the Fables in the hallway as he bypassed the line, he made his way into the office. Snow was busying herself with a stack of papers, looking rather stressed at it all. He didn’t like to see her that way, but he did prefer it to the look of frustration and helplessness that he caught glimpses of when she was working as an assistant. 

Opening his mouth to announce his presence, he promptly closed it as something took him by surprise. On Snow’s desk was a vase of flowers, a big and beautiful bouquet. Proud white roses were peppered with baby's breath, all sitting on a luscious green bed of eucalyptus and hydrangeas. It was perfect, it was if it were an incarnation of Snow herself. He looked at it and realised, at that moment, exactly why people gave each other flowers, he had never had a reason to consider it. 

He must have been staring for a lot longer than it felt like because what finally broke him from his reverie was the sound of Snow’s laughter, soft and musical. Frowning at the sight of her mocking him, he flipped her off, which only made her laugh more. “Who’s the secret admirer?” He inquired, “I’ll need their address too, you know, just in case.” 

Snow glared at him.

“I’m kidding.” Bigby placated her, raising his hands in mock surrender. The smell of this bouquet was different from the one coming through his window, telling him that it was a different set of flowers, but surely the giver of these was also the source of the others. It seemed like far too much of a coincidence, otherwise. 

With a pointed look, Snow said, “you already know it. I told you last week that someone new was moving into the Woodlands! Since Crane is gone, we renovated his hideous penthouse into two new apartments.” Even the mention of his name raised Bigby’s hackles and got his blood boiling, so he could only imagine the disgust that his friend must feel whenever he’s brought up. 

“Right,” Bigby agreed, hazily recalling the conversation that he had definitely not paid his full attention to. It was no wonder that Bigby had missed them moving in, considering that he usually leaves the Woodlands in the early hours of the morning and returns in . . . the early hours of the morning. Yikes.

“I told them about the apartment, so they sent me these as a way to say thanks,” Snow explained, gesturing toward the flowers.

He wondered what their connection was to the flowers, whether they just liked them or whether they were a part of their history, their story. Once again, Bigby opened his mouth only to be interrupted by an inpatient sounding knock on the door. Snow jerked her head towards it before throwing an apologetic smile towards the Sheriff. “I’m sorry, Bigby. I have a lot to do. I should probably get going with these meetings.” 

That was his cue to leave, so the wolf nodded at her and made an exit from the office. He was busy, too, and things were never really peaceful in Fabletown, so it was probably for the best that he got going, but he couldn’t help but wish he had asked for a name.  

He was soon to find out, however, only a couple of days later. Taking a long drag from his cigarette, Bigby used his free hand to open his mailbox. It was more of a tradition at this point, considering he couldn’t actually recall the last time he received a letter in the post that wasn’t a bill. 

An out of tune ding announced the arrival of the elevator but Bigby didn’t turn around, not wanting to invite conversation. He had just placed the car thief into custody, and Snow was going to arrange a trial for tomorrow. The system was much fairer now, more democratic and he liked it that way. Being the final authority on the Crooked Man last time was some heavy stuff, and there was no way to make everyone happy. Now, there was a jury, a real trial, fair sentencing. Fabletown was slowly but surely dragging itself off the ground and trying to become a more just place, a more safe place. If Bigby could do anything to make sure of it, he would. 

Finally looking up, he turned his head to see which of his neighbours had joined him at the letterbox. It was you.

He almost choked on the cigarette in his mouth as he regarded you, and when he took it out and crushed it underfoot, he could smell you, too. Without the overpowering scent of smoke under his nose, the floral scent that he had been succumbing to every night since the first overtook him and he felt a strange constriction in his chest.

You were beautiful, ethereal, but in a much different way than he could usually describe. It was the quirk of your mouth as you offered him a grin and the glint behind your eyes that suggested you were laughing at your own joke internally. “Sheriff.” You addressed him by his formal title and Bigby was torn. He wanted to hear you say it again, over and over. Sherriff. You said it with respect, with admiration even. It wasn’t an insult, a sarcasm, unlike when most of the Fables addressed him with his title. But he also wanted to hear you say his name. It was this desire that returned his ability to speak.

“Call me, Bigby.” 

You closed your mailbox, holding your letters in your hand and smiled wider, introducing yourseld in return.

“I’ll see you around, Bigby.” 

You were walking away, and Bigby, for the first time, was struck with the desire to stop you, make you stay, talk just a little longer. 

“I, uh, I like the flowers.” He managed to growl out. You looked a little taken aback at his tone and he cursed himself, but you recovered and offered him yet another smile. He noted how you gave them out like it cost nothing. 

“Oh, Snow’s?” You prompted him for more information. 

“Yeah, and I can,” he made a vague gesture towards his face, “smell the ones you have in the windowsill. From my apartment.” 

Your eyebrows raised a fraction in surprise, and he felt a weird sense of pride. What the fuck is wrong with you? He thought to himself. 

“Really? I’ll keep them there,” you were so sincere, you made such a simple comment sound like a promise. He nodded, unable to think of yet another reason to delay you and altogether confused about why he was freaking out the way that he was. You stepped into the elevator and was gone. 

You

You stepped off of the elevator and into your apartment, placing the letters down onto a table. The place wasn’t huge but you had made the best of it. The walls had a fresh coat of white paint, making the place seem more open and bright, the furniture was simple, mainly second hand, but it fits. Best of all, your beloved balcony. You guessed that’s what the Sheriff had confused for the flowers on your window-sill.

Great, leafy ferns and potted plants adorned your apartment all over, but the balcony was the centre of it all, and it was only just beginning. You had planted all manner of things, and you were only getting started. Due to your being a  flower nymph, they grew faster, strong and healthy, and the seeds that you planted mere days ago were beginning to form buds, and even open up. The scent was sweeter. The plants were happier, but you couldn’t really explain that sort of thing to another Fable. They would laugh at the notion, but you could feel it.

Moving to the city had been hard for you, really hard. The nymphs were the caretakers of the homelands, the trees, rivers, lakes and plants. The animals, too, even if they didn’t always know it. To have it ripped away was more painful than anything else you could have experienced. It wasn’t just a home that had been taken from you, it was a part of yourself that had been left behind. 

Your mind drifted to your recent interaction as you watered them with care, and you felt your heart rate pick up when you thought of the Sheriff. He was tired, you could tell, but he seemed kind enough. It was a common mistake that nymphs only took care of the plants in the forest, when really they guarded the animals, too. It gave you more of a read on the beastially inclined residents, and you could almost feel the weight on Bigby’s shoulders as you stood next to him. 

I like the flowers. 

The compliment played over in your mind. It had taken you by surprise, considering what all of the other residents had told you about the big, bad wolf. You trusted Snow’s word above the others when she told you about him, that he was a man that wanted to change, had changed. He wanted to make this place better, she had told you, just like her. But even Snow had grumbled to you a few times about how stubborn, how hot-headed and how harsh he could be. 

Over the next couple of days, he was stuck on your mind. You paid far more attention to the coming and going of the wolf than before, realising for the first time that he was rarely home at all. Could this really be the same man that everyone complained about downtown? The one that Fables still questioned as to whether or not he really cared at all? Every time you passed him, you sensed his exhaustion, his frustration. His loneliness. But there was something else when you passed him, too. This little spark of joy and excitement. You knew it must be the scent of the flowers, what else could it be? He had already remarked on it.

Deciding enough was enough, you went about making him the perfect bouquet. 

Throughout the week, you worked on your gift. You arranged it untraditionally in a long, thin wooden box which was overflowing with greenery. Succulents and hydrangeas were scattered amongst them like stars in the night sky. Wild berries shone like jewels, clinging to their stems. Most importantly, bright white lily of the valleys hung like bells. You picked them because of their sweet scent, hoping that the wolf would enjoy them. They were common in the homelands, and you wondered if it would remind him of the place. 

Finally satisfied, you picked up the arrangement late one evening and stepped into the elevator. Am I being crazy? You thought to yourself as your grip on the box tightened. You just thought that all of the things the Sheriff did for Fabletown deserved a little recognition. It was the least you could do say thanks, right? 

Arriving at the correct floor, you took a deep breath before knocking on Bigby’s door. It was a little late for a house call, you realised, but he wasn’t home at any other hour. The wolf opened the door, scowling until he saw you. Confusion replaced the general displeasure on his face until he noted what was in your hands. “Oh,” his voice was full of realisation, “I can hand those to Snow if you want, but if you just wait until tomorrow, she’ll be back in her office,” he explained to you. 

What? You realised quickly that he thought the flowers were meant for Snow and you shook your head, a little saddened that he didn’t even think that they could be for him. 

“Actually, Sheriff, they’re for you. For your windowsill.” 

The man’s face went completely blank while he processed the information, which was kind of scary. The guy really didn’t give anything away. 

“For me?” He repeated, sounding almost suspicious as he raised his hand to his mouth and removed his cigarette, seemingly wanting to inhale the flowers instead.

“Yep.” You assured him firmly, “you said you liked the scent of them so I thought you might like some of your own.” With your words, the energy of the wolf changed. The exhaustion and anger faded substantially and he finally seemed warm, almost as happy as your flowers. You seized the opportunity. “You mind if I come in? I can tell you about watering them and stuff.”

Bigby failed to hide his face a little more this time, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I don’t have anything to offer you, and the place is a real shithole.” He warned you. 

“I didn’t come for anything, I just want to bring you these,” you answer and he relents, stepping backwards and opening the door to allow you in. You expected the smell of cigarettes to be worse, but he had an open window that seemed to be helping with that. You set the flowers down on the windowsill and turned to face him. He was closer than you had expected, and a blush broke out onto your cheeks at the proximity of the wolf to you. You are overwhelmed with the desire to step even closer, but you stay put. The man was already freaked out, he didn’t need your crush to make it any worse.

“Why?” He seemed reluctant to ask like he had been trying to answer the question himself but just couldn’t figure out the answer.

“To say thank you. You do a lot for us, especially those of us who live in The Woodlands. I think of how much safer this place is just because you live here. And you said you liked them.”

“I don’t exactly do anything other than be the Big, Bad Wolf.” He points out, and you catch a cutting undertone to his argument.

“Bullshit.” He seems surprised at your choice of words and raises an amused eyebrow at you. “You get up at the crack of dawn and you get home little before then, sometimes not at all. You single-handedly protect all of the Fables in this town. You deserve a hundred flowers.” You pointed this all out casually, shrugging your shoulders but Bigby looks deeply uncomfortable. You wondered why he was so tense as you pointed out all he does. 

You wondered if anybody does.

Bigby

He thought that if you come any closer to him then he won’t be able to stop himself from kissing you. He also thought that he can’t move away. 

The scent of the flowers, your scent, was making him feel almost dizzy. It was hard to believe that you were in his apartment, that you brought him flowers. You brought him flowers, you brought him flowers, you brought him flowers. Ever since they spoke, such a small, meaningless conversation, he hadn’t been able to get you off his mind. Sure that you had forgotten it by the next day, he felt like such an idiot replaying it in his mind before he could fall asleep at night. 

But you hadn’t. You had remembered what he said and brought him flowers. 

“Thank you.” He realised he hadn’t even said that yet, and he turned away to admire them, and so that he didn’t have to look at you anymore. Clenching his jaw, he implored himself not to ruin this already, to just control himself, like he had with Snow once upon a time. But this time, it seemed impossible.

Then, you touched his arm. 

He was so acutely aware of your hand on his skin the whole time that it was there that he could barely hear what you were saying. All of the nice things you were saying about him, falling on deaf ears. God, he felt pathetic. Was that really all it took to turn him stupid? One compliment, one touch.

He hadn’t been touched in a while, though. Not like this. By someone who wasn’t trying to hurt him, or calm him down. Not by someone who just wanted to be close to him. 

Fuck it, he thought, and stepped closer, leaning into your touch. There were inches between you now. 

You

All of a sudden, he was in front of you. His skin was warm to your touch, and his eyes were simmering with something. You think back over the last couple of days. The way you had watched him, the way you’d thought of him. How you had spent hours finding the perfect flowers, arranging them just so. That wasn’t gratitude or friendly admiration and you knew it. You wondered if he knew it.

You looked up and met his eyes, they were almost gold now that you were close, more than brown. That’s the last thing you remember thinking before you weren’t thinking anything, but feeling the wolf’s mouth on yours. His hand comes up to cup your face, holding you close and the other hand moves to your waist. It’s needy, and almost desperate as the both of you simply give in to whatever desire you were pushing back. 

His face was rough, and you delighted in the coarseness of his hands, a shiver running through your body. He invaded all of your senses, occupies all of you for the minutes, or hours that the two of you are interlocked. The sharpness of his teeth on your bottom lip, gone as quickly as it came prompted you to gasp ever so slightly, allowing his tongue passage into your mouth. When you finally pulled away, air a terrible, evil necessity to you now, you dared to open your eyes and reassure yourself that you weren’t dreaming. Bigby was still pressed up against you, his eyes a brighter gold than they had been before and his breathing urgent.

“I like the flowers,” he chokes out, “I really, really like the - “

You cut him off by grabbing him by the tie and pulling him down towards you once again, rolling your eyes slightly at how awkward he was. You’d figure it out. Kissing him breathless, you finally released him and met his eyes. “I like you too, Bigby.” 

The wolf shared a genuine smile with you, one that reached all the way up to his eyes and flashed his sharp incisors. You wanted to see it again, a million times.

You were going to need more flowers. 

[darkpoisonouslove]

“New Warmth to Weave in Your Garden of Shine”

Summary: New year is coming hand in hand with the cold of the season and the responsibilities even a celebration brings for a king and queen. Amidst the chaos and strict decorum it's Erendor and Samara's concern to find the time to welcome each other in their shared future.

I had to write one last fic to send off the year and since this one was the only one that cooperated, you get New Year on Eraklyon. I like the way this turned out as I feel like it is a peaceful (while sufficiently dramatic) ending to a very frantic year and also incorporated some of my wishes for a better next year. Here's to hoping!

Samara's body begrudgingly stumbled after him in his misstep slipping into an unnatural disruption of her graceful and calculated movements. Losing balance not his own would have dragged him down and left him splayed out on the floor if not for her dignified posture becoming the spine holding him above the stream of panicked shame spilling out of him under the pokes of the crown everyone's gazes drove in him like a sheaf of spears. A weakness was only fully fledged if you let it take root. Much like a weed, it was something to pluck out on sight.

"Erendor," Samara's voice emptied the ballroom in his mind to leave them twirling to the sound of her words, "tomorrow morning is already buried under unfavorable circumstances to stack too many glasses on top of it as well." She was ready to eradicate the perceived environment spawning the weeds in her garden even if her grip didn't change in gentleness. It was her teeth that always broke his ego like she were a tiny dragon his gear couldn't protect him from when she was already on the inside. She was the only one who'd witnessed him fighting the battles there was no armor for.

"I've only drunk enough to hold my warmth against the chill that wrapped my bones like vines today." Indulgence had long relented to duty but it had been tradition that had stranded him out in the cold for the better half of the day. Even his attire hadn't saved him from the bite of the weather outside the impenetrable walls of the palace that would fail to protect him too now that the damage was done and the endless heat of her proximity.

"Dancing ought to have taken over that function," Samara leaned closer – for his benefit or for the words' unclear but her hot breath hit his neck in a wave so pleasant it flooded his body with shivers inappropriate for the current venue. "Nobody says we have to put an end to the activity outside the ballroom." It was her own benefit she was after but that had no negative bearing on him without space between them.

"I would love to take this to the bedroom," a murmur had the strength to reach her even over the lively music that could have resonated through the whole kingdom if not for the vicious howl of the winds roaming the land outside like it was their own, "but the celebrations will carry well into the night regardless of the impending countdown." It was the last dance before the minutes left for his voice to segue the end of the year into the booming display of fireworks luring into colorful visions of the upcoming days. "Even a new year only brings the same old issues." They could dance to fill the hours stolen from their night but breakfast wouldn't move down the line because of the demand on their time or the sleep tugging at his body so harshly in contrast to her mellow touch.

"We'll have a whole new year to catch up on what we miss tonight and tomorrow," Samara looked at him as if to hold his gaze off the touch of a smirk to her lips that was almost shy in its presence. Almost probing enough to shoot down his spine a shiver from the cold metal covering her fingers like armor.

"Could I hope it would take you less time to relinquish your dominion over the covers?" She always cocooned herself in the heavy blankets like she wanted to hibernate outside the body heat next to her that wouldn't be there the following night. Coupled with her knack for transforming him into a careful heart within a paralyzed body when she'd wake up from a shift in his breathing, it left him sleeping with a whimsical force like the nature stone and glass strove to keep outside. "Say, once dancing isn't an option for preserving body temperature anymore?" The only difference was that Samara was much more terrifying in the dead silence she could turn her presence into unlike the wailing of the winds banging against the shut-off palace. Yet, she was the one he welcomed willingly by his side to shield him from the void of cold she filled effortlessly.

The smile widened on her lips to welcome her voice into the cool air of publicness around them and him inside the sound soaking his mind to the core. "Just keep your hands on me at all times and you should be fine." She adjusted her hand in his to ground him in the lightness of her softened grip now that she didn't need the gold on her head or fingers to hold her in his arms.

"I wouldn't argue with that but I have to make a toast in the near future. One I hope you will honor with me?" he didn't drop her gaze even for a moment as he dipped her in an end to their dance. The last few minutes of the old year were slipping between their fingers, the last few touches, the last few words they'd get to exchange before responsibility possessed their lives. It could be nothing but bad luck to shatter that by misdirecting his attention to the slap in the face she could deliver with his hands full of her instead of his own protection.

"I will," Samara's answer glided over the puff rushing out of her to reach him as he brought her back up into the proximity of their faces. "You already indulged me."

His gaze slid to the necklace outlining her delicate throat in the lack of her usual high collar and the silky gown that hugged the curve of her breasts tightly only to leave a generous amount of cleavage for the jewelry to contrast with, and, of course, the crown radiating light upon her head to make her the center of attention despite the companion piece he was wearing. It was the gift she'd given him that played in his mind, however.

Gravity pulled on the jewelry box in his pocket with every step as if to weigh him down and slow him on top of the time he'd already lost on changing out of his parade uniform and into his royal attire and stopping by the safe to get her gift. The echo of his hurried step drilled into his mind with the undeniable anxiety he couldn't pin on one easy to dismiss thing. His only chance was to hide behind the shine of the brilliance in his pocket until he could anchor himself in Samara's presence in the queen's chamber and avoid getting carried away by the memories rocking his being.

The history of the monarchy and his own family had been stained with a kidnapping that had cost the kingdom much more than his carefulness with Samara ever could. His mother had been abducted from the palace during his own birthday to leave an imprint on every future celebration. He had never forgiven his father for the helplessness he'd associated their family with in the eyes of the public and his own heart. It had been so easy to take the queen–a living woman and mother of children–let alone the crown meant to lay on his head and poking their affection away.

Every step was like the prickle of the needles he hadn't witnessed starting an embroidery that afternoon that he'd have to recapture in the next mosaic from the Path of Eraklyon. He'd doubled the guard like any other time they were all swallowed in the distractions of an official event but tradition still hadn't been in his favor. Samara had been left with her ladies-in-waiting while he'd been out on the obligatory gemstone hunt.

His dragon only hadn't thrown him off its back due to the long years of training it had undergone while it had been Samara's face in front of his eyes instead of the dragon's reactions to lead him to the largest diamond he could find without infringing on Isis' territorial claim to bring back to her.

She'd endured the ceremony of "capturing" the wild dragons that would be tamed into joining the palace's resources–they had been captured already a couple weeks ago and put through basic training to ensure safety during the official event–even though it prickled her the same way worry did him. Her knuckles had turned white from gripping the railing of the royal balcony so hard it had been visible from the arena below but to anyone without inside information it would have looked like concern for him and the soldiers attending to the dragons. His confidence in his skills and the performative nature of the ceremony left the truth shining from underneath the mask of rouge concealing the burn in her blood.

Taming was a word her dictionary was extremely unreceptive of and the sweet scent of the flowers blooming all over the reins the dragons attempted to melt off could have had bile rising in her throat if it could have reached as high up as the smoke did while the animals thrashed in dramatic attempts to breathe fire through the vegetation suffocating them with every new flare of heat. It was an ancient tradition and one she found quite distasteful as she watched the blossoms that were already doomed to withering away–they'd been plucked and fashioned into elaborate harnesses of winter turned spring by the smallest of sparks–being forced into their most beautiful. The hunt for jewels would have been more her speed but her schedule had been occupied with embroidery of the event he'd picked to mark the year they'd just left in Eraklyon's history. He'd had to leave her to it, alone in the palace with nothing but his planned defense against unexpected events to keep her safe while he was in pursuit of fulfilling a tradition as valuable as the gemstones he found would be without her waiting to receive them.

The wood of her door was hard and cold under his knuckles. It was like knocking on a block of ice, except it wasn't transparent and it left his pulse hammering in his ears to shatter the heavy, tense silence ready to bury him right there outside her bedchamber.

"Enter," Samara's voice was like warm water that unstuck him from the floor and had the frost crunching under his fingers as he pushed the handle and cracked the door open.

The sight streaming through the passage in her chamber he'd opened stopped him dead in his tracks in the doorway as if to plate him like a painting in a golden frame despite the fact that he'd returned to the palace with a ruby bigger than his fist. The bed was strewn with her jewelry, displayed for her to choose from. He'd expected a different chaos in the face of her maids catering to her high standards for her personal appearance and the glimmer of reflected sunset rays coming from her orchard of precious gemstones almost blinded him.

"Harvest time is over." He didn't bother elaborating what she was perfectly capable of deciphering when a diamond wouldn't be able to cut through her mind. Instead, he focused on putting one foot in front of the other and closing the door behind his back to settle in the self-created illusion that he was welcome in this shimmering kingdom obeying her will rather than nature's.

"I'm choosing the plant for next year," Samara confirmed his standing, not employing her energy into a warning glare that he was on thin ice. He was on solid ground and could breathe freely without fear of white crystals bursting his veins to pieces from the inside.

She reached into the sea of sharp splendor in front of her to pluck out a ring and slip it on her finger. The one with the two sapphires–a shade darker and more lasting than the evergreens poking the horizon outside to make space for them–he'd given her on their first anniversary was already on her hand. It was an exception for her not to wear it but it was always good to see it where it belonged. Even if the solid gold drew his attention to the prick in her delicate flesh above the ring's imperviousness.

The wound was so small that it would have disappeared in the expanse of skin around like a missing feather on a peacock but instead, it stood out like a gunshot in the intense red of blood on white marble. She must have pricked herself on a needle while creating the basis of an embroidery, depicting a success history would remember as his even if she had more claim over it than he did. It was her duty to draft on fabric the image he would later have immortalized in stone regardless of how skilled she was at it.

Her mother hadn't bothered to teach her what every girl in the kingdom could do in too common a craft to be considered a talent worthy of a beauty queen. Yet, the queen of Eraklyon was bound to it in tradition and she'd had to learn in the few months before her coronation. He'd watched her unravel as she'd failed to master it as if to use her own threads and make it easier for herself by manipulating her own matter to sew into the fabric. She'd bleed out if all the times she'd prickled herself and had yet to do it again were put together.

"I would've thought that is something you would have taken care of already?" Combining patterns was a second nature unlike creating them and jewelry was a passion she carried around with herself at all times. It was unthinkable that something as simple as a few drops of blood drawn from her could make it slip through her fingers.

"Normally, I would have but this is a little tradition of mine I keep to on the last day of the year," Samara pried his jaws open with strength that had slipped his notice to keep him from eating his own mind and put hers between them instead. It could be another diversion born out of the blood she'd smelled as well.

"What kind of tradition?" He hadn't had the chance to learn the previous years when the privacy of his bedchamber had provided her frame and her honesty but not the environment in which she thrived, hidden in the shade from his gaze.

"I lay out all my jewelry and pick to wear the most valuable pieces the year has provided." He'd seen her put a lot of work in admiring her ever growing collection so that wasn't hard to believe. It didn't much help to comprehend it, though.

"How can you tell which are the most valuable ones?" He'd grown up with both crowns in sight if not straining his sensibilities with their weight and he still couldn't tell their worth upon just looking. The dragons wouldn't be able to pick out the more precious stone between two just by sight. Maybe there truly was something more than just natural beauty to her.

"That was easy back in the day," Samara slipped away from him, diving after the sun that had set the sky on fire. If her life had been a day, he would have never seen a sunset caught in her irises, much less a sunrise. He would have met her in the dark hours preceding midnight to witness her beauty only in unnatural light or under the weak glow of the stars on a dusty sky at most. That was if the clouds hadn't swallowed her whole like she was made of fractured light unable to pierce its way out of their intangible mass. "I just had to remember how unbearable an experience had followed receiving each one of them."

"I don't follow." Not just because he'd drifted off into the void she'd outlined as her past. She'd practically tied her words to the strings of his mind as if she'd been born to do that. Maybe he could rewrite tradition to replace embroidery with tapestry to spare her from ever prickling herself again on anything that wasn't his crown. And that he could always take off himself to remove the last thorn in her way.

"The harder a role you need to play, the more intricate the mask you need to wear. And the more intricate the mask is, the more it demands – both in its making and its usage," Samara's voice was deceptively light as she glided on the surface of whatever depths she avoided broaching in her mind to keep them both dry in the freezing cold of the settling night. "The brightest jewelry I always got at the threat of the mask cracking right when it needed to be as impenetrable as possible." What had her mother put her up against on all of those stages she'd pushed her?

"Why would you need more reminders of that?" It had already gripped his mind, too, from where it had taken root in hers as she'd talked without being there with him. She'd spoken from the distance where she kept her gaze as well to not paint pictures of the past over the present regardless of them still haunting every image her eyes captured.

"I didn't. It was a statement of worth to others not to forget just because the reminders I already had were embedded where no one could see." Considering all the wealth they'd redistributed once she'd stripped her family of it, she'd failed. Her mother hadn't made it worth her troubles with everything she'd still had hoarded. But she didn't need the cold bucket of water on her nerves any more than he did. "It was also an invitation for the next year to bring something better," her hand balled into a fist as she grasped at the chance to run her thumb over the two sapphire beads adorning her finger before her palms slid over the skirt of her gown littered with dark blue gems that could have been cut from the lit sky above the palace as if they couldn't shred her fragile skin. Just scrub off the remains of her maiden name from her being. "But that is no more. Now I have no idea which ones are the most valuable. There are no masks attached to the gems, just pure sentiment." Her voice picked up to keep up with the speed of her gaze running over the precious display on her bed. "It disrupts my process almost to the point of resentment."

He'd need something to steady himself as well if she kept the words crashing into him like waves of rich honey. Only, he wasn't certain he'd make it all the steps to where she'd just clutched at the bedpost before bending over for a closer inspection. He'd fall over and at the foot of the bed if she pulled him a little closer with another almost in a covert confession.

"What do you think?" Her eyes on him snapped his attention back to the material world he'd bought for her but all he could see was the invitation in her insistent gaze to be a part of her future. "Which ones should I wear?" It wasn't something he could normally help with but this time he had an answer. As long as she'd take it.

"Can I ask you to break tradition?" He pulled out the red velvet box under the anticipation in her stance to have her leaving the bed where all her old jewelry rested to come within reach now that he was giving away the weight that had kept him in place.

A whole garden of diamonds was in his hands to hang on her neck and live for as long as she wanted it to, as long as she welcomed it on her skin. The jewels were whiter than the clouds of breath forming in the harsh temperatures outside and small like the grains the kingdom fed on and she didn't eat but still shined like mirrors bathed in the light of her smile.

Samara turned around, urging him silently to clasp it around her neck in a hold even the crown didn't have on her as it could slip off at any moment. Her hand was running over it before he'd even fastened it in place, the motion sending him off balance as it shook him with relief amidst the quietness of her admiration. He had to rest his palms on her shoulders to find his way through the rhythm the day was spinning to.

Samara covered his hand with hers to pull it off and allow herself to face him instead of the mirror. "I wouldn't mind breaking an old tradition for the new year but since you fit right in, there's no need for such drastic measures. It could use some reshaping, though."

He was still stuck on processing the meaning of her words when she leaned in and pressed her lips against his. Just a quick peck that ran through his body like fire as fast as she was out of his reach and settling in front of her vanity. It was just the softness of her naked lips against his and the still palpable warmth of her fingers where she'd held his hand that lingered behind like a gem for him to stash in the depths of his mind where no weight–physical or not–would be able to leave it in angry shards blazing with fire.

"Didn't you switch to a new lipstick just a couple of weeks ago?" he asked once she was already applying the burgundy over her lips, his brain taking longer to react while collecting the memories she was weaving the last day of the year into.

Samara paused to return the effort he'd put in paying her the due attention even though it had only been natural to note the different shade of the marks her kisses left behind. "Yes, I did. But I always open a new make-up kit on New Year's Eve." And she'd already applied all the rest of her beauty products before he'd arrived. Almost as if she'd been waiting for his visit or at least hoping for it. Either that, or she'd just wanted to keep the lipstick as fresh as possible before heading to the ballroom for the long night ahead. Yet, there was no trace of the silence she used to distance herself in contrast to the quiet life of a kiss between them.

"Another tradition?" That was clear but he needed an excuse for her lips to breathe more color into their conversation.

"Don't you have some?" she shot back at him but her intonation wasn't sharp enough to point to exasperation, even if she was too quick for his scattered attention that was in more pieces than there were on her bed.

Did he?

"I pick gifts for my wife."

Another pause as Samara's lips parted to a frozen moment–she must have caught herself from licking off the lipstick–before she spoke. "That is not a New Year's Eve tradition if you do it throughout the rest of the year as well."

"Then I suppose I'm boring." He was lucky to have come up with an answer at all while transfixed with the shimmer of her eyes not warped even in reflection. It'd be a crime not to give her jewels to put next to it for them to pale in comparison with the real beauty she'd grown in the dark.

"Consistent, I would say." Her gaze slid over the room in the mirror and he followed it, unable to turn to the real one if it meant letting her out of his sight. It was still clear as day where her mind treaded even in the shadows creeping around the room with each second they remained too preoccupied with each other to get the lights.

All the leftover illumination from the day and the shine of the space bodies just coming into view was captured by the jewelry he'd given her to turn each piece into a lighthouse of its own in the waves of silk on her bed. He'd gifted her quite a high number in the couple of years they'd been married but they still weren't enough to replace electricity or even the glow of fire.

It was him that was doing the impossible – counting jewelry instead of coins when the monarchy was as stable as Samara's taste for precious gemstones and noble metals. Nothing was shaking under his feet or threatening to crumble on his head in the quietness of her bedchamber. Not even the weight of the earrings dangling from his palm could throw him off balance as he brought the long stemmed calla lilies to her attention and she let him add their tender white and gold to her look.

The music ended just as Erendor found his footing in the dance with exhaustion. He didn't let go of Samara's waist for another couple of seconds until he could steady himself outside the rhythm of her body swaying with his. There were just minutes still from the year they were leaving behind their backs and he had to let go of her on the precipice and risk separation in the name of an obligatory speech and toast. It was so trivial it would have brought out tears if he allowed it but she was queen because he was king and his only choice was to obey the law that had brought them together.

He held her hand until the armrest of his throne was within reach to numb the emptiness of letting go. His reluctant fingers almost retreated from the coolness of the glass with champagne when he would much prefer her company over that of the alcohol sloshing around in its confinement without grace. Especially when the smooth coldness of the glass reminded him of his chase of hard gems outside in the freezing weather and made him feel like the first idiot but the diamonds shining on her neck and the metal warmed up by her skin that had been pressed in his fingers not long ago burned the thought away. They brought the speech to his lips when it had been her touch weaving it in his mind all year in a way that he'd never been able to before. In a way she'd never been able to before with the heavy jewelry dragging her heart and hands into the depths to drown her grace in the spillage of her own blood.

There was nothing but her own decision holding her tongue now to free her from the image of the dragons harnessed for someone else's purposes. And he could tell the story of their monarchy now that they'd pried it free from everyone else's control. It was theirs so there was nothing stopping him from leaning towards her during the cheer of the guests and the thumping of his own heart in unheard applause for her kept promise to meet the new year together with him.

"What a shame to see such waste of lipstick on your glass." She'd barely sipped enough to leave the shape of her lips on the glass and his mind rendering him incapable of noticing anything else.

"I have plenty of lipstick left to spare, remember?" Her tradition made a lot more sense now. "And there is not a force in this kingdom greater than us that could take away our first kiss of the year." He could count on her promise regardless of how long it would take them to keep it.

"Happy New Year," he took her hand again to feel a warmth even the dragons didn't have to offer.

"Happy New Year." She smiled again to blind him to anything the world could serve them next – even the sun crashing on their heads.

The fireworks exploded outside the windows to change the pattern of the light streaming through but even in the lack of consistency, his brain recognized one heat signature like it was the center of the universe.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Protea (Part 2)

It hurts. It hurts terribly. Agonizingly. She sinks deeper and deeper and the water around her seems to bubble and boil. She sees a face and then several of them and then many more. They all watch her.

They are all around her but her gaze is still fixed on the first one. It is quite lovely. Lovely and terrifying in synchrony. Like an erupting volcano it is intense, splendid, and promising of demise. That face fades into the background and the others circle around her.

For a moment her vision is obscured by a thick cloud of bubbles. They flit and flick about like moth-wasps. She thinks that she can hear them buzzing. When they clear the faces are all scowling at her. They are twisted and ugly. Evil.

They want something.

They all swarm closer. Closer… Closer…

She bolts upright and shakes her head. It doesn’t matter how much or how hard she shakes it, the dream never leaves her head. It is always there replaying in different variations and tones. But those faces, they are always there. Always watching. Sometimes she feels them watching her well into waking. She shudders. It is still dark out, she ought to roll on over and get back to sleep. Especially now that she has a new job. She smiles to herself, Mohi will be proud if she can make this one work. Especially since she hasn’t really been able to hold a job; if it wasn’t tardiness it was getting mouthy with her employer. If it wasn’t snark and wits it was brawling on the job. And sometimes that wasn’t even her fault, sometimes they just came to her. She thinks that this is why Mohi moved from Hira’a to the Capital. Something about a fresh start and no enemies.

She sits still for some time, staring at the moonrays that spill through the cracked window. The draft that comes through it is cool on her face, refreshingly so after so many sweltering Fire Nation nights.

She stretches her arms and pulls herself out of bed. Ultimately she has no desire to plunge back into the waters of her nightmare. Slipping out of the house isn’t so difficult, Mohi and her sons sleep heavy. She wishes that she could do the same but she supposes that being up so early has its perks. Namely she can slink about the city and swipe a few goods from mostly unmonitored food carts and trinket stalls. And when she isn’t in a swiping sort of mood she can jump from roof to roof, swing from railing to balcony, leap over walls and on top of stacks of crates. It is a hobby but it keeps her both fit and entertained. It gives her something to feel special about when Zenyul and Kaz overzealously dance around with their flames.

She takes a step into the cracked city streets. They are littered with trash, mostly discarded posters, broken glass, and piles of excess coal that the factories were too lazy to carry out of the city. Apparently the outskirts worked just as well, out of sight out of mind; really there was no harm, the outskirts of Capital City are already dirty.

The wind carries the scent of sulfur and factory waste as it smacks against her face. She bunches her nose and gives a little cough, she hates windy days. This doesn’t really matter either, she will be in the inner city soon enough and the offensive odors will transition into more pleasurable scents like sizzling skewers, poignant spices, and upper class perfumes.

She finds herself a building to scale. Find might not be the best way to put it, she has found this building quite some time ago and it had quickly become her favorite with its rickety and rusty ladder and its crumbling smoke stacks. On the first week it had been something of a playground to her and she is still discovering little quirks and treasures within; new places to climb up or crawl into. Height, or lack there of gives her the ability to slip into all of those tight places. All the while it makes it harder for her to reach certain places, she has yet to reach the top of the tallest smoke stack. She has climbed it from the inside but it had eventually grown too tight even for her. From the outside, she can never quite stretch her arm far enough to reach a possible handhold. She promises herself that she will make it up there one day. For now she settles for climbing as high as she can.

From her new vantage point, she feels free. Free and above people she otherwise never would be. The inner city skyline glistens like gold or sunshine or something pretty and poetic, she never really has the right words for it. But it is splendid, a goal even higher and less reachable than getting to the top of the smokestack. Most opulantly of all is the palace palace. She spies it’s gleaming multi-tiered roof. Even without the sunlight to cast it in the most flattering light, it still sparkles and glints and outshines the rest of the city.

By the time she shimmies her way down the smokestack her hands and clothes are as dirty and smudged as the palace is pristine. Her feet meet the floor with a dust-kicking thud. She wipes her hands on her pants and climbs back over the fence. She ought to make her way into the inner city before the sun can rise and spoil her fun.

She makes it there with the ease and quickness that only familiarity and routine can provide. It still takes a good hour or so, but she has leaned the quick routes and the ones that take her past the street gangs and their drug trades.

This is the trip that finally wears a hole in her shoe, just one more tatter among many. She guesses that that’s what her new job will get her first. The vendors almost never leave shoes, clothes, and jewelry unsurveyed.

She ought not with her shoes growing battered, but she can’t resist scrambling up a pile of crates and discarded boards. She balances upon a beam that has yet to be thrown out. With luck, they will drop it off at the old industrial factory so that she can have more discarded war machines and parts to enjoy. She leaps from the beam to a balcony. It is always a risk to use the inner city balconies, sometimes they spot her. Granted she is too quick for them to catch her so she doesn’t fret it too much.

She worries over other things. And she can’t seem to outpace them no matter how many buildings she weaves in and out of. The thoughts follow her and the more she thinks on it, the less she feels she is suited for this new job. It had been such an impulse volunteering. She’s no good for it and the woman running the shop didn’t seem particularly enthusiastic to have an assistant. She can’t imagine that she’d be particularly hurt if she didn’t show.

.oOo.

Mai inhales deeply. She shouldn’t be surprised that the woman hasn’t shown up. It was a joke or an attempt to blend in until whoever had it out for her had come to pass. Mai thinks that it is mostly her own fault for humoring the woman and then getting her hopes up. For putting her faith in someone who clearly takes few things seriously. But she has quite stupidly brought an excess of flowers under the impression that she’d be having help.

She turns around and lifts the first few flower pots to be arranged and scoffs when she finds that one of them has broken, spilling dirt everywhere. She hears the shuffle of feet on cobblestone. “I’m not open yet.” She grumbles without averting her gaze from the mess.

“‘S fine, I’m not here to buy anything. But I can clean that up for you, my hands are already dirty.”

“I didn’t think that you were going to show up.”

“Me neither.” She shrugs. She stoops down and begins pushing the dirt into a neat pile.

“I have a broom.”

“And I have hands that work just fine.”

Mai rolls her eyes, “If that’s how you want to do it.” She shrugs.

“It’s already done.” The woman declares.

Mai looks at the woman’s dirty hands and sighs. “You’re going to have to clean them…”

The woman quirks a brow, rubs her hands on her pants, and lifts them up.

“Close enough.” Mai grumbles. “Help me set this up.” She gestures to the flower pots.

The woman nods. “I’m pretty good at arranging things.”

“I usually put the poppy and violets in the front and…”

The woman is already arranging them in her own way. “I think that these yellow ones look nice by these orange ones. Pinks also go nice with them. Like a sunset, ya know? And we should put the bright ones in front because they’ll draw more attention.” She moves a few deeply colored violets and poppy and switches them out for the dahlia, marigold, and fire lily.

“Ugg, the bright ones make me nauseous.”

“But they make your customers notice the stall. See.” She points to a couple wandering near.

“I guess.” Mai shrugs before turning to her customers. For some time they mutter between themselves occasionally pointing at one flower or another. The woman seems to watch them with much more intensity than she ought.

“I don’t know…” Says the man as he strokes his chin. His companion shuffles on her feet and shrugs. “Well what do you think she’d like?” He asks.

His companion gives another shrug. “She’s your sister.”

Mai drums her fingers upon the counter, she wishes that people would decide what flowers to get before they approach her stall.

“What are the flower for?” The woman asks.

“My sister just had a baby.”

“Lilies!” The woman declares and picks up a potful of white lily.

“Why lily?” Asks the man’s companion.

“They’re soft and pretty like babies.”  The woman declares quite boldly. Mai rolls her eyes, much too boldly for something that sounds like improvisation. “Lilies are supposed to represent innocence.”

“Really?” The man asks.

The woman nods. “Back in Hira’a I knew a woman who had a garden. She always said that lilies are pure, especially the white ones.”

“What do you think?” The man’s companion asks.

Mai shrugs. “Yeah, lilies are soft and pure.”

“Sounds good to me.” The man passes her a few coins as the woman hands his partner the flowerpot.

Mai watches them wander back into the crowd. Truthfully, she doesn’t think that she has ever gotten a customer so soon after opening. “Maybe you’re right about putting the bright flowers in front.” She admits. She also finds herself admitting that the woman reminds her of her aunt in a way, prattling about what characteristics each flower represents.

“It’s all about presentation!” She declares. “You arrange them all nice and pretty and then you talk about what each one is supposed to mean, draws people right in.”

“Have you sold flowers before?”

She shakes her head. “I sold other things though. Rocks and trinkets, stuff I found laying around, and fireworks. Lots of fireworks.”  

So the woman is a scavenger. “I swear to Agni, if you’re one of those people who gets all crazy over shiny things, I’m gonna puke.”

“Want me to get you an empty flowerpot?”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I got lots of shiny things, see.” She pulls her necklace out from under her shirt. Each charm--though she uses charm quite loosely--is fixed on a thick rope cord. She sees a bent and slightly rusty spoon, a key, a few beads, a dull razor blade, and small shards of metal. The woman tucks it back under her shirt before she can pick out any more knick knacks.

“Interesting.”

“Thanks, I made it myself.”

Mai nods and folds her arms across her chest. “So you really don’t have a name?”

“That’s right.” The woman nods.

“Then what am I supposed to call you?”

“Most people just say, ‘hey, you!’ or ‘streetrat!’ Mohi and her sons usually just tap me on the shoulder or something.”

“Do you actually answer to streetrat?”

“Sure. I don’t really care what people call me.” She gives a dismissive hand gesture.

“I’m not going to call you that…” Mai trails off. Something in her stirs with discomfort or maybe bitterness on behalf of the woman. She’s much too energetic, disorganized, and somewhat grubby but she’s got determination and diligence. Truth be told, Mai thinks that she has an intelligence about her, one that might be lost on even she. “I don’t think that you’re a streetrat.”

She gives a hum. “Not entirely, no. Coulda been though.” She pauses. “You can name me if you want.”

Mai blinks, “you want me...to name you?”

“Sure, if that makes things easier.”

“I can’t just come up with a name for you on the spot.”

“Sure you can, people do it all the time.”

“Well I want to call you something that fits you.”

“How are you gonna decide what fits?”

“I guess it’ll come to me when I get to know you better.”

Her eyes seem to light up. “I can take you to the industrial park after you close the shop.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I don’t have much going on and Mohi doesn’t mind me going there as long as I come home first, ya know, so she knows that I’m not dead or something. She gets worried that the Iwaken are gonna get me.” She pauses. “So I’ll say hello to Mohi and then we can go to the industrial park.”

Mai very nearly groans; she hadn’t meant to talk her way into a spontaneous outing with a bizarre character, and at an probably dirty and shady industrial park of all places. She opens her mouth to decline but the woman is looking at her with such delight…

“I haven’t been able to make many friends since coming to Capital City, everyone is so uptight here.”

This time Mai does groan. “Alright, fine. We can go to the industrial park.” She very well could suggest a trip to a restaurant or to a nature path or something of a more mundane variety. But Agni if she hasn’t been longing for a break from the monotony. Things have been rather drab without any national catastrophes and with TyLee having off with the Kyoshi warriors again.

The woman flashes her a grin and Mai thinks that she might have just made the right decision. “We can always close early and…”

“Nice try. You have a full day of work ahead of you.”

[bbaronpiper]

Moment of weakness pt.3

Finally, here’s the last part. Sorry it took so long to post. I was busy and got stuck somewhere in the story. Anyway, it’s quite long than the previous parts. I hope you like it. <3

Paragraphs on Italic are lyrics form Lany’s songs I don’t wanna love you anymore and If you see her. I just altered some words to fit it with the story.

You can read the previous parts here. Part 1 Part 2

Arón x reader

Y/N’s P.O.V

I used to love these sheets Dark hair against the white I missed watching you get dressed in our hazy bedroom light

Sometimes I just wanna talk for a minute But I can't bring myself to call Because I know that your heart's not really in it And whatever we had is gone

It’s been ten long months since I last saw him or had any contact with him. The first few months were the hardest. I missed him terribly. His scent, his voice, everything. Even his snoring. I’m lying if I say that going back to him and forgiving him didn’t cross my mind. Not after I heard what he said in his sleep. “She’s not worth it, Bebé”. Five words. Just five words but it haunts me every single night. His voice was still ringing in my head over and over again like it was just yesterday.

It’s been ten long months  and I’m doing a lot better now. I have a new job, new apartment, new friends.

Sick of staring up at the ceiling The only way to get past this feeling Is to tell myself I’m not coming back

The sound of my phone ringing snapped me back into reality. It was Danna. Probably confirming if I will be coming over to her place this afternoon. She called me two weeks ago inviting me to her birthday party. Out of all of his friends, me and Danna was the closest. I loved her outgoing personality. I love her like a sister. I didn’t even felt an inch of jealousy when Arón gave her a rose on Valentine’s day. Hell, I would’ve given her one myself too.

“Hola chica! See you later! You don’t have a choice! You promised! Okay! Bye!” she said enthusiastically and hang up the phone. She didn’t even give me time to answer. Typical Danna. I just laughed to myself as I get up from the bed and start to get ready.

I thought of backing out and watch Netflix in the comfort of my own apartment instead. But I convinced myself that it was time. Besides, I’m doing a lot better now right?

“I can do this. It’s been a while and It’s just a party” I said to myself as you rang the door bell to Danna’s house. Danna opened the door and squealed so loud I thought my ears are gonna bleed.

“Bitch you came! I missed you! I had to hug you just to confirm I’m not seeing things!” She laughed and winked at me. I laughed and gave her the dirty finger in return.

“I missed you too! Happy birthday, hermana!” I said as she leads me to her backyard.  There I saw everyone: Ester, Alvaro, Omar, Mina, Miguel, Itzan, all of Elite’s casts and a few of Danna’s friends, whom I didn’t know. Everyone was there except him. He was nowhere to be found and it gave me a slight comfort as I sighed in relief.

They were all looking at me like they’ve seen a ghost. Probably shocked that I came after all this time. I can’t blame them though. At times like this, I would be thankful if the ground opened and swallowed me whole. It was Omar who came running up to me screaming my name excitedly. “Y/N! I see you came down from Mars now, eh? Damn, girl. We missed you a lot!” he said laughing at his own joke while hugging me so tight. “So I see, you haven’t changed a bit huh?” I loved that about Omar. His sarcastic but fun personality always makes me laugh. “I missed you too. Hot stuff!” I said truthfully. They all hugged me and said their I miss you’s eventually. I felt something inside me. Like a spark of joy. I missed these people so dearly.

---

I am now sitting alone in a wooden lawn chair sipping on my drink as I watched everyone. A smile plastered across my lips. Thinking this wasn’t a bad idea after all. When Danna called me, I was sure I wouldn’t be going. I couldn’t be around these people. There was a reason why I cut ties with them. Not because I wanted to but because I needed to. They really did become a family to me but this wasn’t my life anymore – not after what happened with him.

“Y/N! Smile!” Danna appeared out of nowhere with her phone trying to take a selfie with me. She and Omar laughed so hard when they saw the photo. “You guys are the worst! I wasn’t ready!” I said pretending to be pissed but laughed with them after I saw myself. The laughter died down eventually. Omar was now sitting beside me while Danna sat across from us. “But Y/N, how are you doing, really?” Omar asked seriously. Oh boy here it comes. “I’m doing good” I answered simply. They both looked at me as if they know I’m holding back. “No, really. I’m doing a lot better than I thought I would be.” Danna smiled at me proudly as Omar put his head on my shoulder. “That’s good to know Y/N, it was nice seeing you today. It’s been so long.” She said. “I just don’t think you’re aware how much you’ve been missed, Chica.” Omar added.

The smile I had faded away as a heart wrenching guilt dawned on me. I sigh as I remember all the last-minute cancellation of plans I had with them. All those rejected calls. They even came over to check up on me but I didn’t open the door for them. I completely shut them out of my life when all they wanted was to be there for me. That’s how fucked up I am. He really did a number on me. Suddenly I felt the need to at least explain and apologize. I owe them that. “Guys, you know I’m really s-” Omar cut me off as he squeezed my knee. “Y/N, it’s okay. We understand why you did it.” I smiled at him as my tears are now threatening to build up. But these tears are different from the ones I shed the past months. This was tears of joy. “We all had bad break ups, Y/N and we all have our own way on dealing with it and that was yours. You did it to save yourself and we couldn’t use that against you.” Danna added as she looked at me with happy tears on her eyes. Oh god, now I am crying. “Thank you guys, that means a lot to me”.

The door bell rang once again. “I got it!” Danna announced. Leaving me alone with Omar. He then grabbed my hand and pulled me up. “Okay chica, enough of this now. It’s time to parttteeyyy!!!” He dragged me where everyone was. Itzan and Jorge are now dancing on top of a table. While Ester and Mina, laughing their asses off. I can’t believe I survived ten months without these crazy people.

Arón’s P.O.V

Just look at us You'd never bet against our love Got that kind of thing that lasts Table for two She said "for life" so I'm confused How'd she turn it off so fast

Well, I wasn’t confused how she’d turn it off so fast. I mean, I broke her heart. It’s been ten long months since the last time I saw her and I’ve been dreading to see her. Damn, I’d settle even just for her silhouette just to make sure she’s safe.  Not that I didn’t try. I did. But there’s no way I could find her. She completely cut ties with everyone and it was all because of me.

She won’t talk to me anymore So if you see her Tell her I’d do anything, I need her I know I’m not perfect but we were She says she doesn’t love me don’t believe her If you see her

It’s a hot summer afternoon and I’m here on my balcony smoking, staring at the sky. It’s all I ever do nowadays and write songs to reflect what I’m feeling. That’s the only thing that keeps me sane. Bored out of my mind, I decided to open Instagram and saw Danna posted stories of her birthday cake, her house decorations, and birthday greetings from her friends. I totally forgot what today was supposed to be. But it’s fine, I don’t feel like coming anyway. That’s until I saw her last post. It was a picture of her and omar, and Y/N. I blinked twice making sure it was really my Y/N. it was a bit blurred like she was caught off guard. But I know my Y/N too well. I know it was her. I quickly throw my cigarette on the ground, stomp on it and got on my car. I drove so fast as anxiety took the best of me. I think I broke every single law on my way over to Danna’s. I rang her door bell as I waited impatiently.

She opened the door and smirked devilishly when she saw it was me. Like she knows why I’m here and it was not because it’s her birthday. “Sooo, look who decided to show up” I hugged her and wished her happy birthday. Act natural I thought but I’m so close on peeing myself. “They’re out at the back. Go grab yourself some drinks at the bar. You know your way around here, chico” Danna spoke again and wink at me before disappearing out of my sight. I did what I was told. I was about to go out to the garden when I froze in track. There I saw her with everyone. Goofing around. My Y/N. She looked so beautiful. Her hair was now shorter than I remember. She’s in a floral summer mini dress which complement her curves. She was glowing. She looked so happy.

I felt my stomach flip at the sight of her. Excitement now replaced with fear. I’m scared that I’d hurt her again. How would she react when she see me? Will her smile fade the moment she found out I’m here? I don’t think I can do this to her again. I thought to myself. Suddenly I felt the urge to turn back around and leave. Until I heard Miguel’s voice calling after me.

 Y/N’s P.O.V

I don't wanna love you anymore I don't wanna love you anymore From the start, I never thought, I'd say this before But I don't wanna love you anymore

I don't wanna love you anymore I can't forget, the way it felt, when I walked out the door So I don't wanna love you anymore

I was having so much fun catching up with everyone’s lives but at the back of my mind, I can’t help but to think if he was coming or not. Part of me, the confident me, wanted to see him. Thinking I’ve come way too far from where I’ve been since that night. I’ve become stronger and definitely better having to go through all that shit alone but the other part of me, the lonely, curious me wanted to know what it feels like to see him again. Will I go back to the dark place I’ve been the first few months I left. Will I be shattered to pieces again? No one knows but I hope it was the first one. All the questions inside my head stopped when I heard Miguel say his name. I looked at the direction he was looking at. My heart stopped for a moment when my eyes landed on him. He was already looking at me with a sad smile on his lips. All I can do was give him a small nod in return acknowledging his presence.

He said his hellos to everybody and hugged them. When it was my turn, he stopped for a second. If I didn’t knew him I’d think he just didn’t wanna hug me. But I saw it in his eyes. He was scared. I inhaled his perfume mixed with an almost faded smell of cigarette. Oh, how I missed this. Train of memories starts to hit me and I suddenly knew the answers to the questions in my head.

--

It was now dark and everyone’s drunk as fuck. If not, passed out somewhere in Danna’s house. I lit a cigarette. My guilty pleasure, remember? And looked up. I always loved the night sky. How the darkest nights produce the brightest stars. Somehow, it gives me hope. We all needed a little darkness to shine right? I took another puff on my stick and turned around only to see Arón staring back at me from a short distance. My heart started pounding against my chest and I felt a little dizzy when he started walking towards me.

“Can I join you? Y/N?” his deep voice sent shiver up to my spine.

Arón’s P.O.V

So if you see her Tell her I'd do anything, I need her I know I'm not perfect but we were She says she doesn't love me, don't believe her If you see her

We both know she's not perfect either But if she says she loves me, let me see her Let me see her

She bit her lower lip, something she does when she’s nervous. her body movements became uneasy. For a while, I thought she was gonna refuse and tell me to leave. But she nodded her head yes. A smile crept in to my face as we sat down next to each other. No one dared to say a word. Probably afraid to ruin the moment. I like this. Just the two of us under the moon, sitting in silence enjoying the view. Cold air blowing gently on us. Oh how I would give anything to do this with her every single night.

“Danna really knows how to throw a party, no?” I said trying to start a conversation. “She was always the life of the party.” She said laughing a little. Still looking up at the sky. I sunk on my seat further back, just looking at her from behind as the wind blew her hair gently. The light of the moon and stars illuminating her beautiful face. I tightened my grip around the bottle I’m holding as an attempt to hold back my self from touching her. I want to hold her so bad. Tell her I felt so incomplete without her. Tell her I know how stupid I am to let it all fall apart. My Y/N, How could I ever let her go?

“Y/N,-” “Arón, save it. We’re fine like this” I felt a sting on my chest as she cut me off. But I’m not gonna make the same mistake I did ten months ago. This time, I’m gonna fight for her. “No, please just let me get this out. Por favor” I heard her sigh as she looked back at me. The first time she looked me straight in the eye and I can still see the pain on it. or is it pain? or disgust? or anger? I dunno. I shifted on my seat so now I’m facing her. “Y/N, please know that I deeply regret all the things I did to you. I’m sorry you had to suffer alone when I promised you otherwise. ” I can tell she’s trying so hard not to shed a tear. “I just want you to understand that none of this was your fault. There’s nothing wrong with you. It was all on me” my voice getting shaky as I remembered the night she asked me if she was the one to blame for my unfaithfulness. I can’t believe I made her think that. I could hear myself apologizing over the things I did wrong and the things I didn’t do for her.  My heart breaking as I spit out words after words. The look on her face made me wanna pull her in. wrap her in my arms so tight I might glued her broken pieces back together. “I hated myself for it every single day. But most of all, I hated the fact that It cost me to lose you just to realized you’re exactly who I wanted”. I said almost out of breath. I waited for her to say something. Please Y/N, say something. My leg bouncing up and down. 

She took a shaky breath and finally spoke. “You know, Arón. I really thought it was me. All this time, I kept on thinking where did I go wrong, what did I do for you to find comfort in someone else.” I barely heard her as her voice was so soft. Like she’s just so tired of all the bullshit I put her through. Like she gave up on me. On us. “I loved you. I truly loved you, Arón.” Loved? Past tense? Fuck! “I thought we were gonna end up together. You know? Build a family and all that shit” she took a deep breath as her chin starts to quiver. “But you broke my heart.” That’s when a single tear escaped from her eye. “You broke my soul, Arón.” How could I do this to her? My Y/N. I felt a familiar pain in my stomach at the sight of her. That gut wrenching pain I hate so much. “but thank you for tonight. For the closure. We can now both sleep in peace.” And in that moment I knew she was about to leave me. Again. She started to get up and without thinking, I grabbed her wrist and pull her down to me. My heart broke a little more when she pulled away quickly. “Stop, please. I just wanna go home.” She begged. I couldn’t let her go. I won’t.

“Y/N, almost a year ago, I made the biggest mistake of my life. I’ve regret every second of it.” I was ready to pour my heart out to her. It was now or never. “I Still love you. I never stopped loving you. I know you’re terrified I’d do it again but I won’t and if you ever give me another chance, I will be glad to spend the rest of my life proving to you how much you mean to me. I wouldn’t stop until I’ve made you believe how much I wasn’t willing to lose you.” I said as I cried with her. My chest was pounding like a drum now.

 Y/N’s P.O.V

I looked at him with wide eyes trying to absorb all the things he just blurted out. Arón, the love of my life just said that he wanted to be with me for the rest of his life. That he will never hurt me in anyway possible. I was torn to pieces. My head was screaming at me to run. Run as far away as I can but my heart. My stupid heart wanted to give him another chance. What if he’d do it again - he won’t - he will Y/N, don’t be stupid. I love him but I’m scared to death. It took me a lot of courage and a lot of sleepless nights just to get to where I am right now. I know I would die in agony if it happens again.  But, on the other hand, don’t I owe this to myself? To at least try again?

Arón’s face started to drop as he figured I wouldn’t give him answers. he looked down at his feet shutting his eyes as pain grew stronger inside him, swallowing the lump on his throat. He sighed in defeat. He knows he’ll never have me back now. It’s too late. He looked back up at me again and gave me a small smile “okay, Y/N. I get it.” he whispered as he leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. I swore I saw a tear rolled down his eyes just as he started to walk away. 

What am I doing here just standing like an idiot. He just told me he loves me and I still love him. So what the fuck? Y/N? It’s been a while and we’re both different person now. Stronger, and probably better. Your heart finally won the battle when you yelled his name. “Arón!” he instantly looked back at me. We both walked towards each other and meet halfway. I placed my hand on his chest desperate to feel his warmth as he looked down at me with hopeful eyes. “te quiero, asshole” I saw a smile form on his lips before he grabbed my face and smashed his soft lips into mine. We poured so much passion into the kiss and it felt so right. Like every pain I felt these past months just vanished. I felt his left hand leaving my face tracing down to my neck and down to my lower back pulling me closer and there’s nothing more I wanted right now than to have him. All of him. We pulled away out of breath as he pressed his forehead against mine. I brushed the tip of my nose to his slowly. Savoring the moment. “Y/N. Gracias. I swear you’ll never regret this” he whispered so lovingly I almost felt myself melt. “Take me home” I never ever had to ask twice. 

Next thing I know, we were back in our old apartment. He lifted me up as soon as we got inside. My legs wrapped around his torso as I hold onto him like my life depended on it. His wet kisses on my neck sent shivers to my whole body. Oh how I missed this feeling. Soft moans left my lips. His soft kisses now became rough and needy as he throws me into the bed. He just stood there looking at me. 

 Arón’s P.O.V

I can’t believe this is happening right now. I had to pause for a moment and stare at her laying on my bed. Our bed. I wished I could take a picture and frame it on our wall but I have to have her now. I pulled my shirt over my head quickly as she sat up and start to unbuckle my belt. I did the same for her “Oh, bebe, you wouldn’t need this anymore” I said referring to her dress and threw it to the floor.  I climbed on top of her. Just hovering over her. Kissing her on places I knew would drive her crazy while I palmed her right breast onto my hand and I smirked when I heard her moaning my name. I aligned myself to her entrance and looked at her waiting for her approval. I didn’t waste any second and pushed myself inside of her as soon as she nodded yes. Both of us moaning in pleasure.  I realized how much I missed being inside her. How much I miss her. “Y/N, you don’t know how long I’ve waited for this. I missed you” I saw her smile for me for the first time since I saw her today. He reached up to me and kissed my mouth. I thrusted into her faster and deeper earning loud moans from her. “Faster! oh, I’m so close baby” she said almost out of breath as she dug her nails on to my back which I’m pretty sure would leave marks and buried her face on my neck biting it. “Cum for me bebe, like you used to” and with that she let herself go. The sight of her trembling beneath me with her eyes shut, screaming my name, telling me she loves me was enough for to send me over the edge. I collapsed on top her. Trying to calm down my beating heart. She kissed my shoulder and gently run her fingers up and down my spine. I kissed the tip of her nose in return as I slowly pulled out of her. We made love and it got me smiling like an idiot.

I held her all night. I couldn’t get enough of her. I couldn’t let her go I’m scared that if I did, I would wake up tomorrow and she’d be gone again. The room was so quiet all you can hear is our breathing and our beating hearts. I laid here thinking I’m a one lucky son of a bitch. I knew Y/N was the one for me. I am so sure that it’s her who I want to spend the rest of my life with. I know what it feels like to lose her I almost died by the way and I won’t let that happen again. I looked down at her lifted her chin up and kissed her softly.

“te quiero mucho” I felt my heart flutter when she said those words. I released her from my grip and reached on my side table leaving her confused. “Baby, No, where are you going?” I didn’t answer and pulled out a small box I bought for her months ago before things went to shit. Nervous as ever, I faced her again.

“Y/N will you marry me?”

“Yes!”

--

That’s it guys. I wasn’t sure about the ending... but here we are. haha!  P.S. Don’t settle for anything less. You deserve better. *wink* <3